Early the next morning, Cui Fu drove the carriage and brought Wei Nisheng to the gates of the Feng Residence.
The Feng Residence's vermilion gates stood wide open. The gatekeeper was sweeping when he saw a carriage stop outside.
He was about to approach and inquire, but upon recognizing Wei Nisheng, he hurriedly bowed and stepped aside.
"Young Master Wei is here! The master left instructions: you may go straight in."
Wei Nisheng nodded slightly, tucked the memorial into his sleeve, and strode over the threshold, heading toward the rear garden without obstruction.
He had visited the Feng Residence several times and already knew the way.
Through the front hall, around the covered corridor, past a grove of green bamboo, and through a moon gate lay the rear garden.
Feng Yan was seventy-one. His wife had long since passed away, and the two concubines he had taken in his youth had also died, one after the other.
He had fathered three sons in his lifetime. One had died young, and another had joined the army and fallen on the battlefield.
His only eldest legitimate son had been so frightened upon learning of his father's retirement that he had fled the Capital overnight.
Thus, although the sprawling Feng Residence boasted an illustrious name, its household had dwindled.
Ordinarily, only the elderly Feng Yan and a few servants remained, leaving the place quiet and desolate.
Wei Nisheng followed the flower-lined path and soon reached the pavilion where Feng Yan often sat.
The pavilion was empty.
Half a cup of leftover tea sat on the stone table beside an open book, as though its owner had only just stepped away.
"Lord Feng isn't here..."
Wei Nisheng took the memorial from his sleeve and placed it in the center of the stone table, beneath