"Sotis I wonder if I’m truly my father’s son." Fang Chuning tilted his head back to gaze at the moon, chuckling self-deprecatingly, his tone tinged with sorrow.
"You’re drunk and talking nonsense, aren’t you?" Xie Jue frowned.
"No nonsense. When I was very young, my father rarely ca ho. Even during festivals, he was nowhere to be seen. I was raised by my mother in a cocoon of luxury, pampered and adored, but my father felt like a stranger to . I even found the Marquis more approachable than him. When I was four, I learned that he would return for the New Year, and I was so excited—because before that, his visits were countable on one hand. But the mont I laid eyes on him, I was afraid. Strange, isn’t it? A child fearing his own father. The way he looked at ... I still rember it vividly. Foreign and harsh. I hid behind my mother, too scared to even call him ’father.’ I disliked him, from the very first eting.
At six, he threw amidst wolves, and when I ca back battered and bruised, I asked my mother if I was adopted. How could a father be so cruel to his own young child? But my mother said it was her fault—that she had raised the only son of the Fang Family in too much comfort. My father hoped I would inherit his mantle soday and revive Fang’s Army. Children are easy to fool. Even if I didn’t like him, hearing others speak of my mighty general father filled with pride and vanity. I hoped to beco a hero like him soday. So I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to adapt to his ways. No matter how strict he was, I convinced myself it was because he wanted to grow up into soone great. But..."
Fang Chuning’s eyes reddened. "Ting Feng, I can’t stay a child forever—naïve, oblivious, blind to his indifference and distance. By the ti I was eight or nine, I’d begun to understand that I wasn’t the son he was expecting. I was first in Imperial College year after year, but he never felt proud of . I achieved countless victories on the battlefield, but never once heard him praise . Even if I died on the frontlines, wrapped in a horsehide shroud, he wouldn’t shed a single tear for . I don’t know what I did wrong. I tried to ignore his impact on , telling myself I had my mother, my sister, and Ting Feng—I didn’t care about his opinion. I kept lying to myself. Why couldn’t I continue the lie? Why did I have to keep questioning it? Why... did we have to be father and son?"
Xie Jue’s eyes grew wet. He rarely heard Fang Chuning ntion the great general. Between them, it was a taboo subject. Fang Chuning always acted as if he didn’t care, speaking instead of how he intended to be the rebellious son of the general.
But during their days in Ningzhou, Fang Chuning always longed for letters from his father. Even if the letters were addressed to the chief commander of Ningzhou, Fang Chuning would secretly peek at them, hoping to find so trace of his father’s sentints.
Whenever there was a letter for him specifically, he would be jubilant for days.
As a youth, he used to declare that the general might as well remain on campaign forever, never returning ho. Yet, each year-end, Fang Chuning would beco exceptionally hopeful—taking Fang Lingjun to the streets to buy his father’s favorite foods, diligently practicing swordsmanship and archery.
Xie Jue, who spent day and night by his side, had seen every expectation Fang Chuning had for his father—and every disappointnt that followed.
Even Xie Jue himself was not allowed to bring up the general frequently.
"Being father and son ans so unfinished karmic tie from a past life," Xie Jue said. "My mother used to say that the bonds between spouses, between blood relatives—are all remnants of unresolved fates from before."
"Then, it must be a cursed fate."
"Cursed fate or blessed fate, it’s still fate." Xie Jue, struggling with unfamiliar territory, wracked his brain for ways to comfort him. Though unskilled, he made an earnest effort. "I envy you, because you can still defy your father. I, on the other hand, can no longer do so."
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