Chapter Sixteen: Farewell

“Mother, is this really the right thing to do?” In a quiet room, Han Xianyu spoke to Han Liang, her expression grave, her tone imbued with a resolute firmness as though she could not accept Han Liang’s decision.

Indeed, Han Bingyan was her son—nothing could change that. She knew well she had failed in her duties as a mother, but she had tried to make amends in her own way. Now, faced with her son being inexplicably expelled from the Han family’s estate, she could not help but feel unwilling to accept it.

Those slips of paper, taken from Han Bingyan’s box—Han Xianyu had been standing beside Han Liang at the time, and a slight turn of her head had allowed her to see clearly. To her astonishment, the slip Han Liang drew from Bingyan’s box was unlike the others; it bore no writing at all.

Why was this? Why did her mother single out Bingyan? Why had she made such a decision without so much as a word of explanation, even to her? He was her grandson, after all. At the time, Han Xianyu had suppressed her feelings and refrained from protesting. But she could not accept it.

“You saw it?” Han Liang seemed unmoved by Han Xianyu’s turmoil, responding only with a calm question. Han Xianyu nodded silently. “I saw it.”

“You’re becoming more of a mother,” Han Liang remarked, sidestepping the original question with an enigmatic comment.

“Yes, missing my chance once was enough. I cannot continue making the same mistake. That’s why I want to be good to Bingyan, to be a real mother. But Mother, why can’t you be a proper grandmother?” Han Xianyu’s words were heartfelt, her tone unconsciously growing sharper.

“Are you admonishing me?” Han Liang’s eyes narrowed with displeasure.

“I wouldn’t dare!” Alarmed by her mother’s anger, Han Xianyu hastened to reply.

With a sigh, Han Liang patted her daughter’s head in a gesture both gentle and weary. “Do you think I don’t want to be a good grandmother? But I am first and foremost the head of the Han family. I must weigh every matter with the family’s interests in mind, and only then can I choose what is most beneficial. As for Bingyan, you must understand—these things are necessary.”

“But I don’t understand. Why must Bingyan be… expelled from the family estate?”

“This is the Han family’s highest secret. I shouldn’t even be telling you, but as you are the next family head, it will do no harm.” Han Liang glanced around, her eyes sharp with caution, then lowered her voice.

“Is it related to the Han family’s Plume Prophet, who appears once every three centuries?” Seeing her mother’s caution, Han Xianyu naturally thought of the family’s most closely guarded secret.

“Exactly.” Han Liang nodded, leaning close to Han Xianyu’s ear as if to ensure not a single word would be overheard. As she whispered, Han Xianyu’s initial surprise gave way to shock—her eyes widened in disbelief. “Mother, is all this true?”

Even after Han Liang affirmed it, Han Xianyu could scarcely believe what she had heard, struggling to grasp its significance.

When Han Liang finished, she glanced outside, as if a burden had at last been lifted from her shoulders. “I know it is hard to believe, but it is the truth. For the time being, I ask you to restrain your emotions. Even if you cannot help me, at least do not let this secret slip.”

“Rest assured, Mother. This is too important—I won’t breathe a word.” If all she’d heard was true, Han Xianyu knew she must remain silent, though her heart ached for Bingyan.

“One more thing—keep an eye on Bingran. She’s been clinging to Bingyan lately. That’s not a good thing.” Han Liang reminded her.

“I understand,” Han Xianyu replied with a nod.

A sudden knocking interrupted them. “Come in,” Han Liang called, her voice low and commanding.

Han Bingran crept inside, red-eyed and tear-streaked, looking utterly pitiful. Han Xianyu sighed and gently gathered her daughter into her arms.

“Mother, why must Brother go?” Bingran choked out through her tears.

Han Xianyu did not know how to answer. Instead, she softly asked, “Do you enjoy being with Bingyan?”

Bingran nodded. “I used to look down on playing with my brother. I thought him lazy, unable to reach even the lowest martial rank, and he embarrassed me. But later, I realized how pitiful he was—more like a sister, really, needing someone’s care.

As she spoke, the image of Bingyan dressed as a girl surfaced in her mind—he really was adorable!

“So, I wanted to get closer, to understand him better. And the more I learned, the more I saw that my brother is gentle on the outside but unyielding within. His determination sometimes astonishes me. If not for being born with blocked meridians, I believe his achievements would far surpass mine. He truly has a gift for martial arts—he can master a sword move instantly, and even invent his own.”

“He truly has such talent for martial arts?” Han Xianyu was taken aback by her daughter’s words, realizing how little she understood her own son—or perhaps, how enigmatic Bingyan had always been.

Bingran’s dark eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief as she responded proudly, “Of course!” as though the praise were for herself.

Han Liang and Han Xianyu exchanged glances, their suspicions deepening. Bingyan, are you really so remarkable? And yet, why must your fate be thus…

After a few words of comfort, Han Bingran was sent away, and the two women fell once more into silence.

Together with Han Bingruo, Bingyan walked out of the Han family’s grand gates. Pausing, he looked back at the imposing vermilion entrance. The world is indifferent, he thought—a great family’s courtyard is no exception. Now, he understood this fully.

“How’s your hand?” Bingruo asked with concern.

“It’s fine, not too painful.”

“Don’t be so impulsive in the future.”

Bingyan nodded. “So, what will you do?” After a moment’s silence, he asked.

Bingruo’s eyes grew clear. “I’ll return to my original city. After all, I belong to my mother’s family and have no place here. Why don’t you come with me? My parents would treat you as their own son.” The invitation was genuine and warm, and Bingyan, with nowhere else to go, felt deeply moved. To stay with Bingruo was tempting.

But in the end, he refused. Too many ties bound him to this place; he could not bring himself to sever them all. “No, I don’t want to leave. There’s too much pain here, but there are also people who care for me—Xiaoran, Mother, Aunt Yun—I can’t let them go.” With effort, he forced a smile.

As if she had expected this reply, Bingruo was not surprised. She gently ruffled his hair. “You’re not truly heartbroken yet—only when you’re hurt beyond bearing will you know regret.”

“We’ll see when that day comes,” Bingyan replied, momentarily dazed, then managed a silly grin.

“I’m off then. Let’s part ways here. See you in two years at the Plume Festival!” With that, Bingruo turned, waved, and strode away.

Watching her recede into the distance, scenes from their first meeting to this very moment flashed through Bingyan’s mind. Two years had passed in the blink of an eye. Now they parted—who could say what would happen when they met again?

Yet Bingyan firmly believed they would see each other again somewhere in the future. Would they still be the same then? Only time would tell.