As night deepened, a faint chill rode the mountain wind as it swept through the viewing pavilion.
The attendants silently cleared away the dining table, then lit several ever-burning lamps made from a mixture of animal fat and slow-burning resin.
The warm yellow firelight drove back the darkness at the pavilion's edges, casting the family's shadows across the rough wooden floorboards.
The delicate fragrance of herbal tea drifted through the cool air.
After their initial shock and concern, Chen Hongmei and Zong Qiming gradually came to terms with the weighty information Zong Shen had revealed.
They had weathered their share of storms, after all. They understood that worrying was futile; what mattered more was supporting their sons.
The family chatted about everyday matters for a while longer, asking about the details of life in Zong Ze's territory—how the rock sheep were raised, how the mountain yams had yielded, whether the inhabitants had adapted to the mountain climate, and so on.
They also asked about the quality classifications and construction processes of those things under the semi-datafied system.
Zong Ze answered each question in a very relaxed tone.
He tried to pick interesting stories to tell, and the atmosphere in the pavilion gradually eased once more.
It was late, and the temperature in the mountains dropped quickly.
Chen Hongmei let out a small yawn, and seeing this, Zong Qiming suggested they rest.
Before long, Zong Shen was the only one left in the pavilion.
He walked to its edge, rested a hand on the rough log railing, and looked down the mountain.
Scattered lights dotted Zong Ze's territory. Most of the inhabitants had already gone to sleep, and only the patrol soldiers' torches moved slowly along their fixed routes like drifting fireflies.
Farther away, the outlines of the mountains blended into