An eight-year-old kid emptied his scumbag father's warehouse and followed his grandparents into

"I heard an old friend is here? Let me see who it is." Before he finished speaking, the bead curtain at the door was lifted by the maid, and at the same time, the message came: "The old general has returned home."

"I am Li Ziwen, a student, and I am honored to meet you, old general." Li Ziwen quickly stood up and saluted respectfully.

"So it's you, kid! I thought it was someone else." The old general's cheerful face suddenly turned serious, and he scolded, "How many times have I had a drink with your grandfather? And you are so distant? I'll write you a letter and ask you to take it back and let Old Li give you a good beating."

"The student admits his mistake!" Li Ziwen saluted again, standing facing the old general with his hands hanging down, looking ready to accept punishment at any time.

"Sit down, sit down. Don't be so polite to me. I can't stand all the formalities you scholars use." The old general lifted his skirt and sat down in another main seat. "Although I was anxious to know who this old friend was, I still insisted on finishing the game. Fortunately, I didn't lose to your grandfather."

After saying this, he looked at Jing Chunxi with a smile, and several younger generations stood up and saluted him.

After the old general returned, the atmosphere in the hall became even more lively, until Nanny Wang came in and announced, "Lunch is ready."

"Come on, let's eat and talk. Since you have finished your exams, there is no need to be too restrained. Just accompany me for a couple of drinks." The old general stood up first.

"Old General," Li Ziwen suddenly spoke, his face flushed, "Before I left Beijing, my ancestor specially wrote a letter, instructing me to personally present it to you, General, and Madam for review."

As he spoke, he raised his head and looked behind the old lady seemingly unintentionally.

"You kid, you dare to hide the letter from Old Li to me for so long. If it happens on the battlefield, you won't be able to get ten heads chopped off." The old general's voice was like a loud bell, shaking the beams in the hall without any dust.

He snatched the letter that Li Ziwen took out of his arms, which was still warm from his body. The letter was held respectfully, and the corners were rubbed to the point of being frayed, which showed that it had been treasured in his arms for a long time.

The old lady sat upright in the upper seat, and gently put down the teacup in her hand, making a crisp sound. "Old man, since there is a letter, you should sit down and read it first. Read it carefully to everyone so that we can also know some of the latest news in Yamen Village. It's not too late for dinner in this quarter of an hour."

Her voice was not loud, but it had a sense of majesty. Everyone who had stood up because the old general invited them to dinner sat down quietly and held their breath.

The old general remained standing, his rough fingers nimbly tearing open the seal, his eyes scanning the letter with a sharp gaze.

"Well, Old Li said everything about the village is good." The old general read through the documents quickly, speaking in a loud voice. "After we left, he retired and began to enjoy his retirement. Ziwen's father took over the position of village chief, so there is a successor."

His tone slowed, a sense of relief filling the air. The old village chief's letter was rambling and full of the flavor of everyday life, each word saturated with gratitude. Several nearby counties had even benefited from the seedlings, seeds, and planting methods left behind by the Jing family, resulting in bountiful harvests in recent years.

Yamen Village now relies on the shed workshop and the secret method of making vermicelli left by the Jing family for free. Every household has a place to sell their potatoes. This New Year, villagers from all four villages in the village received dividends, and the letter paper seemed to carry the sweet fragrance of the harvest and the festive feeling of firecrackers.

But when reading the whole letter, it was full of gratitude, but there was not a single word about asking them to look after the grandson who was going to Beijing to take the imperial examination. This simple and honest attitude made everyone in the hall feel warm and moved.

When he turned to the last page, the old general's resonant voice suddenly paused. His thick black brows gradually knitted together, and the smile on his lips slowly faded, finally turning into a barely audible sigh. His sharp eyes swept over Li Ziwen, who had been standing nervously, not daring to look up at him.

This sudden change instantly froze the warmth in the room, and the air seemed to become heavier.

"What's wrong? This is..." The old lady noticed something was wrong and quickly leaned forward to ask, concern in her voice.

The old general did not answer her directly. Instead, he turned around and asked anxiously, "Where is Mingrong? Why didn't I see her today?" He quickly glanced around the hall, then turned around and fixed his eyes on the side of the old lady - Jing Mingrong was lowering his head, and his slender white fingers were gently kneading the old lady's shoulders, his posture as gentle as a willow branch in spring.

Instantly, all eyes were on her. Mingrong's fingertips trembled suddenly, and she stopped moving. Her voice trembled slightly, like a spider silk in the wind: "Granduncle, but what did Mingrong do wrong?"

Jing Yongcheng was a few years younger than Jing Yongsheng, who died on the way to exile. But when they were in Yamen Village, Mingrong wanted to follow the servants and respectfully call them old general and old lady, but was firmly stopped by the two elders, who still called them according to the old custom of the Jing clan.

They had long treated this poor child as their own, and Mingrong was grateful for this kindness. No matter how much she was dissuaded, she always rushed to do the work. Whether it was the duty of a granddaughter or the chores of a servant, she silently took it on and never ate a meal for free.

"You are so good, what could go wrong?"

The old general's voice, usually as loud and high-pitched as a war drum, softened involuntarily when facing this timid child, becoming somewhat unnaturally lukewarm and even stuttering in a rare way.

His eyes wandered, finally landing on Jing Chunxi, and he muttered, "Your cousin's wife is pregnant now, so she can't go hungry. Why don't you sisters go with her to the flower hall to eat first? You can sit at the same table and don't wait for us. We can talk later."

His usually solemn, dark face now forced a gentle expression, and he gave Jing Chunxi a barely perceptible wink. Although he was a straightforward, dark-faced, rough-mannered man, this gesture seemed a bit clumsy and concerned. Finally, he added, "Mingrong will go too."

Jing Chunxi immediately understood and stood up, knowing that her grandfather must have something important to discuss and it would be inconvenient for them to be present.

"Cousin, you're pregnant? You didn't even send a message to tell me." This good news came so suddenly that Jing Chunxi's eyes widened in surprise. Dalang's vacation home to get married was only three months long, and the journey back and forth took up quite a bit of time. It had only been a little over two months since the wedding, so how long had he been gone? And Feng Jiaojiao was already pregnant!

Dalangge is indeed awesome! Jing Chunxi gave him a thumbs up in his heart.

"Let's go! Let's go eat. Don't let my nephew starve." Before Feng Jiaojiao could come back to her senses from her embarrassment and respond, Jing Chunxi added crisply, took her arm affectionately, and winked at Mingrong behind her grandmother, who hurried out.

Feng Jiaojiao's face suddenly flushed red, spreading all the way to her ears. She was so embarrassed that she wanted to find a hole to crawl into. She had no choice but to stand up and, with the support of Jing Chunxi, walked quickly towards the flower hall as if she was escaping.

Several young girls hurriedly gathered their skirts and followed, their steps light and graceful. Behind them, the old general's high-pitched, hearty laughter erupted again, echoing through the hall like a bell, and making the magpies perched on the beams flutter and take flight, soaring across the clear window panes.