manynovel Page 135
Page 135
He suddenly looked up at Zhang Yunyuan, who was quietly drinking tea across from him, then suddenly looked down and stared intently at the photo!
The old, yellowed black-and-white photograph, with its worn edges, seemed to weigh a ton in his trembling hands.
The young man in the photo is wearing an old Taoist robe that doesn't fit him very well, and his hair is a little long and messy.
He had his arm around his grandfather Zhang Huaiyi's shoulder, a nonchalant smile on his face, but his eyes were as clear as a deep pool, as if nothing in the world could stir the slightest ripple in his heart.
Opposite him, on a futon in the elegant tea room, sat a young man dressed in modern casual clothes.
He was holding a cup of tea with an elegant posture, his fingers clearly defined, his movements composed.
The rising steam blurred his delicate features, but it couldn't obscure his seemingly innate, nonchalant demeanor.
Zhang Chulan's gaze darted back and forth frantically between the yellowed photograph and the living, breathing person.
His mind raced, trying to find even the slightest difference to prove that it was just an absurd coincidence.
However, he failed.
The young man in the photo—his facial features, his eyebrows and eyes, even his seemingly indifferent expression…
He's no different from Zhang Yunyuan right in front of him!
Even the faint curve of their lips is exactly the same!
The only difference is that he was wearing an old Taoist robe and had slightly longer hair in the photo, while he is wearing modern clothes in front of us.
It was as if these decades of passing time, enough to turn the ocean into mulberry fields, had merely given him a new set of clothes.
Time seemed to have stood still for him.
No, it's more terrifying than solidification.
Time, the most ruthless sculptor, seems to have no courage to leave any marks on him.
"This this…"
Zhang Chulan's lips trembled, unable to utter any meaningful syllables.
His fingers trembled violently, barely able to hold the thin photograph.
He felt a chill rush from the soles of his feet straight up to the top of his head, then up his spine, freezing his limbs and bones stiff.
His worldview, which he had just managed to piece together in an attempt to understand this bizarre and fantastical world of supernatural beings, was shattered once again at this moment.
It shattered even more completely than when I faced zombies in the graveyard last time.
This is no longer a question of whether it's scientific or not.
This is completely beyond what he could understand as a human being!
Just as his mind went blank and his soul seemed to leave his body, the door to the tea room was pushed open again.
A soft creak broke the suffocating silence.
Tian Jinzhong walked in.
He wore the same simple Taoist robe, with a gentle smile on his face and a steady gait.
"Senior brother, are you looking for me?"
Tian Jinzhong's gentle voice rang out.
Zhang Zhiwei nodded, his aged face revealing no emotion, but he gestured with his chin towards Zhang Chulan, who was still reeling from the immense shock:
“Jinzhong, this is Huaiyi’s grandson, Chu Lan.”
Zhang Chulan jolted awake, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head, instantly pulling his chaotic thoughts back to reality.
Almost instinctively, he sprang up from the prayer mat, stood up straight, and bowed respectfully to this elder who also existed only in legends: "Greetings, Master Tian!"
Tian Jinzhong looked him up and down, his weathered eyes revealing a complex expression.
There is a sense of relief that the bloodline continues after seeing an old friend.
There is a deep sense of pity for this child who has endured a life of hardship and displacement.
There was also a touch of sadness, a faint sadness stirred up by touching upon that long-forgotten past.
Ultimately, all the emotions culminated in a gentle response:
"Oh, good child!"
Immediately, his gaze shifted to Zhang Yunyuan, who sat quietly beside the tea tray. The complex expression on his face instantly transformed into a natural familiarity and warmth, and he naturally added the following introduction to Zhang Chulan:
"This is your junior master Yun Yuan, and also your grandfather's junior brother."
The words "Little Master" struck Zhang Chulan's already fragile heart once again, like three bolts of lightning, carrying raging flames of karma.
He felt as if his soul had been shattered into charcoal.
He stared blankly at Tian Jinzhong's matter-of-fact expression, his mouth agape and his eyes wide like saucers.
Even the last shred of hope vanished completely.
He felt like he was about to petrify and crack open again.
From the inside out, from soul to body, it cracked inch by inch, turning into dust and scattering in the wind.
Zhang Zhiwei ignored his grandson, who was on the verge of collapse.
He walked slowly to the head seat and sat down. His seemingly casual movements exuded the profound and majestic air of a master.
He gestured for Tian Jinzhong to sit down as well, then his gaze softened as he looked at Zhang Chulan, who was still in a daze. His voice was steady and powerful, like a resounding bell, striking Zhang Chulan's heart:
"Chu Lan, this Luo Tian Grand Ceremony is specially organized for you."
Zhang Chulan suddenly looked up at the Old Master.
Those eyes, which were always half-open and half-closed, as if they had no interest in anything in the world, were now gazing at him gently.
Those eyes were deep and kind, possessing a power capable of soothing all pain.
“You have been living a life of hardship and injustice since childhood, living in anonymity and suffering a lot. You didn’t even have a single relative to rely on.”
Zhang Zhiwei's tone carried a hint of barely perceptible pity, "The advisor knows all this."
From now on, things will be different.
We are your family, and Longhu Mountain is your home.
"From now on, if anyone dares to bully you again, just say my name is Zhang Zhiwei."
These words were spoken plainly, without any fancy language.
Yet it weighs as much as a thousand pounds.
Every word was like a warm, heavy hammer, striking the softest and most vulnerable spot in Zhang Chulan's heart.
An indescribable mix of bittersweet emotions surged through Zhang Chulan's heart like a flood bursting its banks.
It made his nose sting and his eyes instantly redden.
From the day his grandfather passed away, he was like a rootless duckweed, drifting aimlessly in the world.
He was cautious, he wore a mask, and he didn't live like himself.
He was afraid, he was lonely, he didn't even dare to stay in one place for too long, and he didn't dare to make a real friend.
Everything he did was simply to survive.
To keep my grandfather's last wish, I want to be an "ordinary person".
But now, this old man he had only met a few times, this legendary "top expert" in the world of supernatural beings, was telling him that he had a home.
He has family now.
He no longer has to shoulder everything alone.
This sudden, overwhelming sense of happiness and belonging almost made him lose his balance.
He pursed his lips tightly, gritted his teeth, and lowered his head, not wanting anyone to see him in this disheveled state.
But those tears, so uncontrollable, still streamed down her cheeks, one drop at a time, and fell onto the floor in front of her.
Looking at his slightly trembling shoulders, Tian Jinzhong felt a pang of sorrow in his heart.
He spoke at the opportune moment, his voice as gentle and kind as ever, like the warm sun in winter:
"Chu Lan, you've really suffered all these years."
Now that you're here, stop holding back.
"If you have anything on your mind, or any grievances you feel, you can tell the advisor."
This gentle word of advice became the last straw that broke the camel's back.
Zhang Chulan could no longer hold back. He sniffed hard and let out a suppressed sob.
He looked up, his eyes still red, but those eyes, washed by tears, had become incredibly resolute.
He knew that from this moment on, his life would be completely different.
He looked at Zhang Zhiwei, his voice tinged with suppressed sobs and urgency:
"I...I do have something that's been on my mind for years, something I've always wanted to know!"
He took a deep breath, as if using all his strength, and roared out the biggest question that had troubled him throughout his childhood and adolescence:
I want to know about my grandfather!
What kind of person is he?
What exactly happened to him back then?
Why did he leave Longhu Mountain?
What exactly did he do during the Jia Shen Rebellion?
A barrage of questions, like a machine gun, exploded in the quiet tea room.
Each question carried with it all the resentment, confusion, and yearning for the truth that he had accumulated over the past decade.
The tea room fell silent for a moment.
Even the sound of the wind outside the window seemed to have stopped.
Zhang Zhiwei sighed slowly. In that sigh, there was reminiscence, regret, and a sense of helpless fate.