HNYWEF -Chapter 188 Nonsense

The fifth year of Zhenguan, eighth day of the fifth month.

Chang’an.

Dusk had just begun to settle.

The matter of relocating the grave had finally been completed.

Zhou Yi stood at the entrance of the Duke of Su’s residence, looking at the plaque overhead for a while.

Then he raised his hand and knocked the door ring. The gatekeeper poked his head out, saw who it was, and quickly stepped aside.

“Consort, the Duke is inside.”

Zhou Yi nodded and walked in.

He passed the screen wall and rounded the corridor. Before he even reached the main hall, he heard Cheng Yaojin’s booming voice from inside, loudly cursing someone with great enthusiasm.

Zhou Yi paused outside the door for a moment. Only after the shouting died down did he lift the curtain and walk in.

Cheng Yaojin sat on the couch holding a bowl of tea, lingering anger from his earlier tirade still written across his face.

When he saw Zhou Yi, he froze for a moment. That anger faded, replaced by another expression—something between heartache and relief.

“It’s done?”

Zhou Yi nodded. “Finished today.”

Cheng Yaojin set down the tea bowl and patted the spot beside him.

“Sit. Have you eaten yet?”

Zhou Yi didn’t sit. He stood there, looking at Cheng Yaojin for a while before suddenly speaking.

“Uncle Cheng, do you know Xie Yingdeng?”

Cheng Yaojin’s hand stopped midair.

He froze completely—not the kind where someone slowly processes what they heard, but the kind where the brain simply stalls on the spot.

He stared at Zhou Yi, blinked once, then again. His mouth opened slightly before closing again.

“How do you know Xie Yingdeng?”

Zhou Yi didn’t explain. “I ran into him at Wagang Stronghold.”

Cheng Yaojin’s brows knitted together.

Of course he knew Xie Yingdeng. Back in Wagang, that man had already been the type who disliked crowds and rarely spoke.

When he looked at people, his eyes were always calm and quiet, as though he could see straight into your heart.

Later, after Wagang fell apart, he became a Daoist priest. Cheng Yaojin had never imagined that someone like him would ever get involved in something like grave relocation.

“That guy…” Cheng Yaojin’s voice carried a note of disbelief. “With the way he acted like he’d transcended worldly affairs, I’d never connect him with something like this.”

Zhou Yi nodded.

“He said he couldn’t help. Said the people in Chang’an could arrange things more properly.”

Cheng Yaojin snorted. That did sound like something Xie Yingdeng would say.

He picked up the tea bowl, took a sip, then set it down again.

“That’s about the only kind of bullshit he knows how to say.”

Zhou Yi looked at him and spoke again.

This time his voice was quieter than before.

“He said one more thing at the end.”

Cheng Yaojin waited for him to continue.

Zhou Yi said, “He said that the next time he saw my father, he should be better.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Cheng Yaojin’s expression changed instantly.

Not gradually. It changed with a snap—from disbelief to a kind of irritation that wasn’t anger, but more like, I knew it.

He shot to his feet. The chair scraped half an inch backward across the stone floor with a sharp screech.

“That’s fucking nonsense!”

His voice was so loud that something outside in the corridor suddenly fluttered and flew away.

Cheng Yaojin stood there, chest rising and falling, his face flushed red.

“That brat, always acting all mysterious, always talking nonsense! Better? Not better? Who the hell does he think he is? What right does he have to say someone’s better? What did he even see? Damn it…”

He couldn’t continue.

He stood there panting heavily, gripping the tea bowl tightly.

Zhou Yi watched him like this and suddenly didn’t know what to say.

It wasn’t as if he had never seen Cheng Yaojin curse people before.

But he had never seen him like this—where even after the cursing ended, there was still something pent up inside him.

Slowly, Cheng Yaojin sat back down.

The tea bowl was still in his hand. He didn’t drink from it. He simply held it there, staring at the floor, though it was impossible to tell what he was looking at.

After a long while, he finally spoke.

“That brat… damn him, he always talks in half-sentences. Ask him anything and he just smiles without answering. You think he knows nothing, but he knows everything.”

He lifted his head and looked at Zhou Yi.

“But don’t believe him.”

Zhou Yi froze for a moment.

Cheng Yaojin said, “Your father’s matters—your father will get better on his own. It has nothing to do with that brat. So what if he says he’ll get better? So what if he says he won’t? Who the hell is he?”

He slammed the tea bowl onto the table with a bang.

“Your father’s just stubborn. He’s been stubborn for more than ten years. If he figures things out himself, then naturally he’ll get better. If he doesn’t want to, even immortals couldn’t help him. What does any of that have to do with Xie Yingdeng’s few words?”

Zhou Yi stood there, looking at Cheng Yaojin.

He knew Uncle Cheng was cursing Xie Yingdeng.

But he felt that the person Uncle Cheng was really cursing wasn’t Xie Yingdeng at all.

He said nothing. He only nodded.

“I understand.”

Cheng Yaojin looked at him for several breaths. The fire in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by something softer.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

Cheng Yaojin stood up and patted his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s eat. Don’t think about all that pointless stuff.”

He strode toward the door. But when he reached the entrance, he suddenly stopped.

Without turning around, he stood there for a moment.

“That brat…” he cursed softly, voice so low it was impossible to tell who exactly he was cursing.

Then he lifted the curtain and walked out.

Zhou Yi remained standing in the room, watching the swaying curtain.

After standing there for a while, he followed after him.

Night had completely fallen now. Lanterns were lit beneath the corridor, their dim yellow light reflecting off the blue stone floor.

Cheng Yaojin walked ahead with long strides, his silhouette swaying beneath the lantern light.

Zhou Yi followed behind, watching that broad back, and suddenly remembered Xie Yingdeng’s words.

Once his father returned, he would be better.

What did “better” mean?

He didn’t know.

But he did know one thing.

When Uncle Cheng had been cursing earlier, it wasn’t because he didn’t believe it.

It was because he didn’t dare to believe it.