With the plan to migrate to the far north settled, most of those sent by the various branches were juniors, eager to return and report. They had not expected Luo Jin's son to stop several of them.
The quiet room was not large.
They sat around the stove, a small gathering of only five: Luo Jin's son Luo Chen, Luo Xing's grandson Luo Wu, Luo Chu's grandson Luo Xi, Luo Qi's son Luo Yuan, and Luo Yan's grandson Luo Xiang. Among the Luo Clan's outlying branches, these four were different: powerful, yet without a direct line.
Water boiled on the stove, steam billowing up and settling damply on their faces. The four exchanged glances, all waiting for Luo Chen to speak. They knew the household head must have sent him, and all wondered what the household head would say at a time like this.
Luo Chen lifted the kettle and poured the scalding, boiling water into the teapot. The rising white vapor veiled his face and seemed to muffle his voice a little too. "Brothers and nephews, the Luo Clan will migrate. My father wishes the various branches to hold fast in the various states. You need not migrate with us."
What?
The four had imagined countless reasons, but never this one. All grew anxious at once. How could they be excluded from a plan concerning the clan's very survival?
Disappointment mingled with hope as Luo Xi said, "Uncle, we too are members of the Luo Clan. Though our Sacred Marks have vanished, Luo blood still flows in our veins. How could we stand by and watch our clansmen tread through bitter snow and frosty winter while we remain in warm lands, enjoying wealth and honor?
"We are unwilling. Please convey this to Great-Grandfather, Uncle. This must not be done,