(Thanks to reader 20171025... I can't remember the rest of the username, for the comment. Those lines originally came from Lu Xun's prose poem "Such a Fighter": "In such a realm, no one hears the battle cries. Peace, peace..." Thank you.)
Jing Jiu should have been able to stop Shi Fengchen from killing himself, but he did not.
Not because there was no need, but because when Shi Fengchen spoke his final words, Jing Jiu saw the resolve to die in his eyes.
He understood Shi Fengchen's anger and hatred toward Daoist cultivators, though he did not sympathize.
Nor did he want to question him about the painful events of his past.
Life and death mattered most.
He would respect that.
Then let the man going to his death meet his end.
The little courtyard was silent.
The sunlight shifted away, and the two scrawny chickens listlessly pecked at the shadows on the ground.
At some point, the courtyard gate was pushed open again.
"Master, it's stir-fried cabbage shoots with cured pork again today!"
Wang Xiaoming limped inside, set the strip of cured pork on the millstone stand, and kicked the two scrawny chickens into their cage to keep them from pecking at it.
"Last time you said the cabbage shoots were a little tough. These are wonderfully tender."
He carried the cabbage shoots into the house in high spirits, wanting his master to have a look first.
There was a soft patter.
The cabbage shoots fell to the floor and scattered, like real flowers.
His legs began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Ah... ah... Master!"
Wretched sobbing rang out inside the house.
His sobbing sounded awful.
Sobbing never sounded pleasant.
Shi Fengchen's funeral was a quiet affair.
At least at the very beginning.
Wang Xiaoming