Back when Father Zhou went into the mountains to hunt, he tragically lost his life in a tiger’s mouth. When his mangled body was dragged back, nearly every part was torn, barely leaving any flesh intact. Mother Zhou fainted on the spot as soon as she saw him.

Since then, her health steadily declined, and by the following year, she passed away, following her husband, leaving behind a still-young Zhou Song.

Back then, many in the village tried to persuade him to return to the Zhou family home. At the very least, he’d have his grandmother, aunt, and uncle to look after him. Once he grew up a little, he could choose to move out again if he wanted.

But he refused, choosing to stay alone in the house his parents had left behind, holding onto that small piece of memory.

Even though an eleven-year-old boy in the village could help adults with work, ultimately, he was still a child. Helping around the house and taking care of himself were two entirely different things.

Most of the villagers had known his parents and pitied him, so they often lent him a helping hand.

Fortunately, Lin Erzhu’s family lived nearby, and Aunt Qian frequently looked after him. For the first few years, he nearly ate all his meals at their place, helping out with a bit of work in return.

And so, with everyone’s support, he grew up into a strong young man.

“Old man, look at our precious grandson. He’s all grown up now and can handle real work,” Granny Zhou murmured to herself as she burned the paper money.

Zhou Song knelt quietly beside her, picking up a few pieces of paper money that had blown out of the fire and tossed them back in.

Zhou Xiaofu, who was yawning again, was nudged by his mother. Reluctantly, he knelt beside Granny Zhou and gave a perfunctory bow.

After paying respects to Grandpa Zhou, the group went on to pay homage to other ancestors, before moving to the back of the cemetery.

When she saw her youngest son’s tombstone, Granny Zhou’s eyes instantly turned red. She reached out to touch the name carved on the stone, her voice caught in her throat.

Compared to her, Zhou Song, her actual son, seemed much more composed. Quietly, he cleared away the weeds in front of his parents’ graves, setting out the incense, candles, and offerings one by one.

Zhou Dashan, looking at his younger brother’s grave, had a cold expression, as if he were a stranger. He just stood in the back, clearly not having any sincere intention to pay respects.

Zhou Xiaofu, imitating his father, stood beside him with his hands tucked in his sleeves, looking sleepy. This time, Hu Lan didn’t force him to kneel.

When Zhou Song had set up all the offerings, Granny Zhou had mostly calmed down. She wiped the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.

“You heartless boy, making your poor mother send off her son with gray hair. Truly unfilial,” she murmured, choking up with grief again.

Zhou Song knelt there, gazing quietly at his parents’ graves. After a long silence, he lowered his eyes.

A cold wind blew through the mountains that day. Granny Zhou, getting on in years, couldn’t stand the chill and soon started coughing as she spoke to the graves.

Hu Lan stepped forward, patting her hand. “Mother, please don’t be too sad. Uncle would feel heartbroken if he saw you like this, and so would Dashan.”

Granny Zhou coughed a couple of times, calming herself. She gave Hu Lan a look but didn’t say anything further.

Zhou Dashan walked over to take his wife’s place, helping support his mother. “Now that we’re done, we should head back. You’re frail; don’t want you catching a cold.”

Granny Zhou nodded and looked at her grandson, who was still kneeling on the ground. “Ah Song, let’s go home. We can come back another day to visit your parents.”

Zhou Song turned slightly, saying, “Granny, you go ahead. I’d like to stay a little longer.”

Granny Zhou opened her mouth to persuade him but, glancing at her son’s grave, sighed. “Alright then, stay and talk to your parents, but don’t stay too long. Come home early.”

Zhou Song nodded, focusing again on burning paper money, piece by piece, and tossing it into the fire.

Before leaving, Granny Zhou reminded him one last time, “Come home for lunch.”

After he agreed, she finally felt at ease and turned to leave.

Zhou Xiaofu shot a disdainful look at Zhou Song’s kneeling back, let out a sneer, and left with his arms crossed.

With the noisy crowd gone, silence settled in. Zhou Song finished burning the paper money and looked at the two cold tombstones in front of him.

After a long silence, he spoke softly, “Your son has grown up now. I’m doing well, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

A gentle breeze blew through the quiet mountains, causing the flames to flicker and releasing a few wisps of ash.

Zhou Song took out a cloth from his basket and reached out to wipe down the tombstones, especially the engraved names, with great care.

After cleaning them, he pulled his hand back and knelt again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there in silence before he looked up again. “Father, Mother…”

After a pause, he hesitated, lips pressed tightly together, before finally murmuring, “It seems…I might have found someone I truly care about…”

With no one to confide in, he could only share this with his parents’ graves.

His hands clenched into loose fists on his lap, gripping his clothes. Even here, with no one around, he felt a bit tense just thinking about that person.

“He’s wonderful…” he whispered, staring into the flickering fire. “So wonderful that… your son…”

The words trailed off, ending in a sigh barely audible in the quiet air.

“Brother Song!”

The distant shout snapped Zhou Song out of his reverie. He turned to see Lin Erzhu waving at him with Aunt Qian beside him.

He stood up, waiting for them to come closer.

“I thought you’d already gone back,” Lin Erzhu said, patting his shoulder lightly while subtly checking his expression, worried he might be in a low mood.

After a few glances, he felt relieved seeing nothing amiss.

Zhou Song greeted Aunt Qian first, then turned to Lin Erzhu. “What brings you here?”

“Naturally, we came to pay respects to Uncle Zhou and Auntie.” As Lin Erzhu spoke, he crouched down in front of the graves, pulling incense and paper money from his basket.

Zhou Song watched him and said, “You didn’t need to go out of your way.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Aunt Qian patted his arm. “Your parents helped us so much before. It’s only right to come pay respects. It’s not a big deal.”

A widow who’d raised Lin Erzhu alone, Aunt Qian knew hardship. When Zhou Song’s parents had moved from the West Village, they’d offered her family a lot of support, and she and Zhou Song’s mother had grown as close as sisters.

With this bond, they made it a point to come every year on this day.

Zhou Song knew their intentions. This happened every year, so he didn’t say much after asking. Instead, he helped Aunt Qian arrange the offerings.

Lin Erzhu knocked his head on the ground a few times in quick succession and began chatting to the tombstones about Zhou Song’s life, adding with a grin that Brother Song didn’t talk much, so he was here to fill in.

Aunt Qian shot him a glance. “You’re the one who talks too much. Don’t drag your brother into it.”

“Mother, I’m just sharing a bit with Aunt and Uncle to put their minds at ease. My intentions are sincere,” Lin Erzhu said, shaking his head dramatically.

Aunt Qian gave his head a nudge. “You and that mouth of yours.”

Watching them, Zhou Song felt the loneliness lift from his heart. Looking back at the tombstones, he thought, with them here, perhaps his parents wouldn’t feel so lonely.

After spending a long while at the graves, they finally left. Although Aunt Qian claimed her son talked too much, she herself also kept talking, like the old days when she and Zhou Song’s mother would chat for hours. It felt like, if she spoke long enough, maybe her friend was still here and nothing had changed.

“Brother Song, are you going back to the Zhou household for lunch?” Lin Erzhu asked casually as they walked down the mountain.

Zhou Song nodded.

Lin Erzhu didn’t comment, knowing it was traditional to spend the holidays with the elders even if he didn’t think much of that family. “Fine, if you come back later, come have dinner at my house.”

Aunt Qian, who had been walking in front, turned to add, “Yes, Zhou boy, come eat with us tonight. Erzhu caught a fish yesterday. I’ll make fish soup for you both.”

This time, Zhou Song didn’t turn down their kind offer.

He agreed, and Aunt Qian seemed delighted, mumbling about making extra dishes.

Lin Erzhu shot Zhou Song a sly look, then draped an arm over his shoulder. “Mother, why don’t we invite Aunt Wu and Shen Xiaolang too? It’s a holiday, and it’d be too quiet with just the two of them.”

Zhou Song glanced over at him.

Lin Erzhu raised his brows with a grin.

Aunt Qian, instantly understanding her son’s intentions, merely rolled her eyes at him, choosing not to call him out. Instead, she went along with it. “True, it would be good to invite them. It must be lonely for the two of them in a new place with no family graves here.”

Zhou Song lowered his gaze. That person had probably watched the village’s hustle today, feeling bittersweet without his family’s graves nearby.

“Brother Song,” Lin Erzhu asked, nudging him, “what do you think?”

“About what?” Zhou Song, lost in thought, didn’t catch his meaning.

Lin Erzhu clicked his tongue. How come whenever it was about Shen Xiaolang, his usually sharp Brother Song turned clueless? “I meant, what do you think about inviting Aunt Wu and Shen Xiaolang to dinner tonight?”

“Oh, yes, that’s good,” Zhou Song replied without thinking, then realized he might sound too eager. He added, “I mean, I’m fine with anything. It’s up to you.”

Seeing him act so cautious and reserved, Lin Erzhu couldn’t help but chuckle. He tilted his lips into a grin, holding back a laugh. “Alright then, be sure to come tonight.”

Zhou Song nodded, afraid that saying any more might betray his thoughts.

As they reached the foot of the mountain, they parted ways. Lin Erzhu and his mother took the road back to the East Village, while Zhou Song headed west.

On his way, he met several villagers who used to know his parents well, and they stopped him for a long chat before letting him go with satisfied smiles.

Approaching the Zhou family courtyard, Zhou Song could already hear Zhou Xiaofu’s sharp voice yelling at Wang Cuixiang inside. His tone was so nasty it was hard not to feel disgusted.

Zhou Song pushed open the gate, entering just in time to see Wang Cuixiang coming out of the main hall with tears in her eyes. She looked at him in surprise, lowered her head, greeted him as “Cousin,” and hurried off to the kitchen before he could respond.

He wasn’t particularly close to Wang Cuixiang, his cousin’s wife of a few years now. She was quiet by nature, and he wasn’t the talkative type either, so they barely spoke beyond the occasional greeting.

All he knew was she came from a neighboring village, from a poor family. Her parents hadn’t paid her much mind, or they wouldn’t have married her off to someone like Zhou Xiaofu, who was lazy and unmotivated.

Hu Lan had been willing to accept such a poor in-law for two reasons. First, the girls in the village all knew Zhou Xiaofu’s reputation, so no one wanted to marry him. And second, Wang Cuixiang’s family was overcrowded, with a brother needing to marry. Her parents wanted to get their useless daughter off their hands, asking for little in dowry and rarely visiting afterward.

Yet, years had passed since she married in, and still, she had no children. Hu Lan was increasingly displeased with her, and Zhou Xiaofu also felt she was plain and dull, so her life here wasn’t easy.

Even though Zhou Song rarely came over, he’d seen her scolded and insulted several times.

But these weren’t matters he could intervene in. After all, it was their family business.

All he could do was pretend not to see and leave her some dignity when he encountered such scenes.