When Yi Xuan returned to the hall, Yi Yong'an was still talking endlessly to Yi Shuyuan. Over the decades, he had bottled up far too much that he wanted to pour out to his uncle.
"Uncle, I always had this feeling. I knew you must still be alive. I knew you would come back to see me. When Mother passed away, I told her that, but she didn't believe me. When my wife passed away, I told her that too, and she didn't believe me either..."
As his emotions welled up, Yi Yong'an's eyes grew moist again.
As Yi Yong'an spoke, the figures of those two women flashed through Yi Shuyuan's mind: Zhao, thrifty and capable, a skilled homemaker who had initially seemed rather snobbish and sharp-tongued; and Li, gentle and virtuous, who worked tirelessly without complaint. Both had enjoyed a fair measure of peaceful comfort in the latter halves of their lives.
Yi Shuyuan reached out and patted Yi Yong'an's shoulder. For a family like the Yi Household, those who departed first were, comparatively speaking, the more fortunate ones.
"Grandfather, why keep bringing up these sad things? You're making, uh... making..."
Yi Xuan had only just come in and sat down when he heard this. Seeing his grandfather growing emotional again, he hurried to comfort him, but despite opening his mouth several times, he simply could not get the words "Great-granduncle" out. Still, he had to finish his sentence.
"Making everyone sad..."
"Yes, yes, yes, the little rascal's right. Uncle, let's not talk about this. Let's talk about something else. Oh, Uncle, do you remember when you'd just recovered from your illness and come home, and I went with you to the county town to look for work?"
Yi Yong'an began recalling those early years. At that moment, his