Though Yi Yong'an remembered his eldest uncle Yi Shuyuan as a decrepit old man, the form Yi Shuyuan wore now was actually the one most deeply etched in the Yi family's memories.
Even so, Yi Yong'an failed to recognize him. His uncle's face, and even his voice, had long since blurred in his eldest nephew's memory.
But Yi Shuyuan would never take this to mean Yi Yong'an did not care about his uncle. He could feel the genuine affections of the mortal world, and he would never forget that moment when they had parted.
Of Bao Kang and his son, one had feelings blazing like fire, while the other was rather more reserved.
Hui Mian's words carried a note of disbelief, but Yi Shuyuan offered no strong response, merely watching the float with his usual expression.
Small waves rippled through the river, making the float bob and sway without pause. After a while, the water settled, and the float grew still as well.
"Very good, very good. I can tell you're a young man who puts his whole mind into what he does!"
Yi Yong'an offered a word of praise. The Confucian scholar sitting there fishing had a steady, composed air about him. Impatience was an angler's greatest enemy, and this man gave him a sense of tranquility.
For some reason, that was simply how Yi Yong'an felt. Such an atmosphere was rare. It seemed he had experienced it only yesterday, yet it also felt as though it had been ages since he had met a like-minded fishing companion. He even wanted to sit beside him and fish for a while.
"You're too kind, sir!"
Yi Shuyuan replied courteously. Yi Yong'an's hands were already itching, and he turned to the servant beside him.
"A Wei, give me my fishing gear.