Li Pingyi was in a daze when he heard the sound of crying. He stepped outside and found a little boy sitting by the door with tears glistening on his eyelashes. Sunlight bathed his face, lending him an endearing appearance.
Li Pingyi took a step closer tentatively, and to his surprise, a childish voice escaped his own lips.
The boy looked up. Li Pingyi then heard himself earnestly saying, "I'd be sad if you died, too."
Li Pingyi's vision slowly grew clearer as he finally woke up from his dream. Pain throbbed throughout his body, and a bitter and metallic taste lingered in his mouth. His chest ached due to his broken ribs while his legs screamed in agony—likely fractured as well.
Two flies buzzed before his eyes. Li Pingyi attempted to swat them away, but his limbs refused to respond. He writhed on the bed, gradually noticing a figure seated beside him, silently and solemnly watching him like a stone statue.
"Father…" Li Pingyi uttered weakly, but Li Xiewen's expression remained impassive, devoid of any emotion.
His thoughts drifted, disjointed and distant as he croaked out the question.
Li Xiewen had finally found his voice and broke the silence with two quiet words.
Li Pingyi froze as if he had been struck across the face. All the memories came flooding back to him—the precious pearl, the thunder flames, the crumbling house.
With a burst of energy, Li Pingyi writhed violently and exclaimed, "How's Young Family Head?!"
Li Xiewen's moved his lips again, uttering yet another two words.
Li Pingyi felt a squeeze in his throat as he croaked out something incoherent. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to repeat his father's words.
Li Xiewen's watched quietly as Li Pingyi transitioned from silent tears to outright sobbing, to convulsive weeping, only to abruptly cease… because Li Xiewen brought his hand down on his son's cheek.
Again, his hand struck Li Pingyi's other cheek, leaving the boy dizzy and disoriented from the force.
Li Xiewen reached for Li Pingyi's neck as the boy squirmed on the bed, sobbing.
"Father, I have unfinished business."
Li Xiewen regarded him coldly as Li Pingyi continued to squirm, his gaze darting around the room until it settled on the charred wooden slip at the head of the bed.
Li Pingyi halted his tears and spoke quietly, "Young Family Head told me to deliver this book to Young Master Yuanyun… Please, Father."
Li Xiewen faltered, his voice thick with emotion as two burning tears trickled down his cheeks.
"You were the one who brought that precious pearl to him…" he said hoarsely.
"Yes, it was me," Li Pingyi squeezed the words through clenched teeth, his body instantly going limp as though he had lost his backbone.
Tears streamed down Li Xiewen's face as he continued hoarsely, "You've been a good kid since young… You're sharp and resourceful. Other than your lack of spiritual orifice, you're no less capable than the children among the generation of Yuan. Unlike me, I've been dumb since I was a child. Were it not for my close ties with Brother Xuanxuan and the lack of ambition among my younger brothers, I would never have been chosen as a town manager."
Li Xiewen shed more tears as he continued, "And then you were born. When those two dark eyes stared at me, my only thought was, 'Ah, this child will surely grow into a capable man and surpass me one day.'"
Li Pingyi lay on the bed. He could taste his father's tears in his mouth—they were bitter. Tears continued flowing from his eyes as he whimpered, "I've let you down… Father."
Li Xiewen wiped his tears and gently patted his eldest son. He gritted his teeth and hissed, "But Xiu'er is gone... Li Yuanxiu is gone! That's Li Yuanxiu we're talking about! The Young Family Head of the Li Family, the successor your grandfather entrusted to me, which I entrusted to you! Do you understand the weight of that responsibility?!"
Li Pingyi closed his eyes and nodded silently.
Li Xiewen rose slowly, tucking the charred wooden slip into his sleeve before casting one last glance at his eldest son's face. With a wave of his sleeve, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.
As the door swung open, the blinding sunlight flooded Li Pingyi's vision. But as his father departed and closed the door behind him, darkness reclaimed the room.
The faint glow from the desk barely reached Li Pingyi. Unable to see his surroundings clearly, he squirmed on the bed like a worm and peered over its edge.
Straining his eyes, Li Pingyi realized the thunder flames had damaged his vision—his left eye barely functioned. With his right eye, he discerned a big bucket beneath his feet. It was made of wood found on the mountain and bound by iron, securely sealed to prevent any leakage.
Within the bucket was bloody water, likely remnants of his own when his father had wiped him down. A pungent and metallic odor assaulted his senses. A gray rag floated on the surface like a dead fish.
Estimating the distance, Li Pingyi shifted his only functional leg, bracing himself for the pain of moving over broken bones. With a deep breath, he stomped down.
He plunged into the blood-filled bucket headfirst, the liquid rising just below his chest. Fearful of moving involuntarily, he wedged his leg into the bed's corner.
As the taste of blood filled his mouth, Li Pingyi began to cough violently, inhaling and expelling the crimson fluid with each convulsion, causing gurgling noises in the water. Eventually, his body stiffened, urine leaking from his rigid form and wetting his pants.
A beam of light appeared before his eyes and faces flickered through his mind—his father's, his mother's… and Li Yuanxiu's.
Amidst the turmoil, a single thought surfaced—To be able to see his face again one last time before my death… it's all worth it.
Outside the door, Li Xiewen closed his eyes, clenching his hands tightly until they turned white. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. When the gurgling sound from within ceased, he collapsed softly onto the ground.
For a moment, he could not discern his own surroundings, and he was not even sure of which the floor and ceiling was. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he found himself staring at a pair of leather boots before him.
Raising his head, Li Xiewen locked eyes with a face bearing a striking resemblance to Li Yuanxiu's, albeit with more angular features and a fiercer gaze.
The man peered intently at him and asked, "Uncle Xiewen, where's Pingyi?"
Li Xiewen rose to his feet, his voice barely above a whisper as he replied, "Greetings, Young Master Yuanjiao… Li Pingyi was too distraught by the Young Family Head's passing and took his own life."
Without waiting for Li Yuanjiao's reaction, Li Xiewen retrieved half of a burnt wooden slip and presented it to him with both hands.
"Young Family Head has instructed Li Pingyi to deliver this to Young Master Yuanyun… With this, I have fulfilled Li Pingyi's last task on his behalf!"