I opened my eyes to a room full of flickering candlelight.
This was a mourning hall. The white funeral banners had yet to be taken down, and a dozen familiar faces surrounded me, every pair of eyes brimming with tears.
"Father!" My eldest son was the first to throw himself at me, a man in his thirties sobbing like a child.
I wanted to raise my hand to wipe away his tears, but my limbs felt as heavy as though they had been filled with lead. I could only twitch my fingers.
Everyone in the room was crying, yet smiling too.
The maids and elderly serving women crowded around the edges, wiping their tears, while old Fu, the steward, knelt on the floor with tears streaming down his aged face.
My gaze passed over their shoulders to the young immortal named Song Yan, who stood beside the screen, quietly watching it all.
"The Great General truly is a man of miracles!"
With three fingers resting on my wrist, the imperial physician suddenly opened his eyes wide. "His pulse is steady and strong. This... this is plainly the body of a man in his prime!"
Another cheer erupted in the room.
I tried to clear my throat, and seven or eight hands immediately offered me warm water.
As the warm water slid down my throat, long-absent sensation surged through every limb and bone like a spring tide. It seemed I truly had come back to life.
At last, I could lift my hand and gently pat Xiao Heng's shoulder.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Master, you were unconscious for sixteen days."
My daughter-in-law Liu Shi came closer with my little grandson in her arms. "Yuan has kept clamoring for Grandpa to teach him martial arts."
My five-year-old grandson Xiao Yuan