Xu Zhuohua's fingers tightened suddenly, gripping the armrest of the armchair so tightly that they left several fine marks. She sprang up as if struck by lightning, the black hand warmer spinning and falling to the ground.
Clang—
The hand warmer struck the blue bricks with a crisp, tearing sound. The moment the perforated lid popped open, red-hot charcoal wrapped in silver threads burst forth like flowing clouds. A few sparks landed on the ground, flickered a few times, and quickly dimmed.
She stared blankly at the mess on the ground, the rustling sound of charcoal clattering still echoing in her ears, the lingering warmth on her fingertips gradually replaced by chill.
Cheng Muyun's actions were almost faster than his thoughts. Before Xu Zhuohua could react, he had instinctively grabbed Xu Zhuohua's reddened fingertips.
"What's wrong? Did you get burned?"
A terrifying thought suddenly popped into Xu Zhuohua's mind.
It's not that she looks like someone from the Xu family; it's that she is a member of the Xu family!
Xu Zhuohua's fingertips were like cold iron clamps, gripping Cheng Muyun's wrist bone tightly, her nails almost digging into his flesh.
Those once bright and lively eyes were now bloodshot, darting around like startled birds: "Cheng Muyun, you said the middle word is 'listen,' who told you that?"
"What did your second brother mention at the banquet just now? What happened?" Cheng Muyun subconsciously tried to turn his hand over and grasp the other person's, but instead touched a patch of cold sweat.
The sunlight reflected from the window shone brightly on Xu Zhuohua's pale face, making her pupils throb with a terrifying panic.
In the family of Confucius and Mencius, the tradition of ranking people according to their generational names has long been established. Although the Xu family has been in business for many years, they have always adhered to the rules set by their ancestors.
"I need to find my second brother, where is he?" Xu Zhuohua suddenly staggered forward, but Cheng Muyun caught her by the waist in a flash.
Cheng Muyun had never seen Xu Zhuohua like this before.
The man who was always so composed in the past was now like a puppet whose soul had been ripped from its strings. He held the man tightly in his arms, gently patting his back as it heaved violently: "What's wrong? Don't panic, catch your breath, I'll take you to find your second brother."
Beneath the silk fabric, her back was taut and straight, and you could clearly feel her ribs trembling with her rapid breathing.
The two stumbled through the winding corridor, the snowdrifts piled up all over the courtyard constantly stinging Xu Zhuohua's eyes.
For a moment, she couldn't tell whether it was the stinging pain in her eyes or the overwhelming emotion she couldn't refuse.
Xu Jixin's figure, bent over copying account books, was hidden behind the desk, the ink spreading on the rice paper.
As soon as Cheng Muyun's fingertips touched the rough cotton curtain, the biting cold wind slipped through his fingers. He suddenly flung open the curtain, and the howling north wind, carrying fine ice shards, rushed into the room. The neatly stacked Xuan paper on the table was blown around and fluttered, like a flock of startled white doves flapping their wings.
The yellowed paper swirled in mid-air, revealing densely packed tiny characters on it—each line of ink-stained characters recording the flow of money, those neatly written characters for 'receive' and 'export'.
Xu Jixin paused, his hand holding the wolf-hair brush paused, and he looked up from the ledger.
The smile lines at the corners of his eyes relaxed, and his eyebrows showed an undisguised joy.
"The trade route on the southern route of Dongxing has been smooth this year, and silk and porcelain are selling like hotcakes." He put down his brush and reached out to press down the account book that had been blown away by the wind. "I am really happy. The order from Suzhou alone is enough to cover the expenses of the northern route of Dongxing. Perhaps the northern route will be completed this year."
Before he could finish speaking, another gust of wind rattled the windowpanes, and Xu Zhuohua slipped in from under the curtain.
Xu Jixin then noticed the unusual expressions on the two men's faces, stood up and picked up the scattered account books from the ground. "What's wrong? You two aren't happy that I'm doing the accounting here? Why don't we count the money together?"
Xu Zhuohua glanced at the papers on the ground, frowned, and asked, "Second brother, have you ever seen the family genealogy?"
Xu Jixin looked up in confusion. "Family tree? I saw it yesterday, and I paid my respects to it this morning."
"Where?"
"Why has it been placed behind the ancestral tablets in the ancestral hall all along?"
Xu Zhuohua turned and ran out.
She had knelt in the Xu family ancestral hall more than once, but she had never carefully looked at the names on the memorial tablets, nor had she ever gone behind the altar. Now she desperately wanted to know the names on those tablets.
Cheng Muyun and Xu Jixin chased after her, neither of them expecting that Xu Zhuohua could run so fast.
Xu Zhuohua ran very fast, the cold wind stinging her cheeks, and the stray hairs on her forehead were already soaked with cold sweat, sticking stickily to her skin.
The vermilion gate of the ancestral hall stood silently in place, as if quietly waiting for her.
She reached out and gripped the doorframe, her heavy breathing condensing into a white mist in the cold air. The faint light seeping through the crack in the ancestral hall door flickered in her eyes, like some ominous summons.
Xu Zhuohua suddenly pushed open the door, the wooden door creaking loudly, startling a ripple in Xu Zhuohua's heart.
The pungent smell of incense mixed with rising dust choked her, causing her to cough repeatedly.
The eternal lamp burned dimly on the shrine, its tiny flames swaying violently in the draft, cutting the entire ancestral hall into fragments of light and shadow.
The altar where the ancestral tablets were enshrined seemed to be shrouded in a layer of black mist. The gilded surnames and posthumous titles were distorted and deformed in the light and shadow. The originally solemn and dignified tablets cast huge and eerie shadows that groveled on the wall with the flickering candlelight, looking just like countless withered hands scratching silently.
Xu Zhuohua stepped inside. The closer she got, the clearer the names on the memorial tablets became, but the ancestors on the tablets were all deceased.
What really matters is the family tree.
She walked quickly to the back of the memorial tablet, where there were even larger candlesticks, arranged at varying heights, illuminating the entire room. The wind blowing in from outside caused the candles to flicker.
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