Volume One: The Millennia of the Stream Chapter One: Rain

Throughout the city, those adorned in fine silks were hardly ever silk farmers. At the homes, there was no clay for pottery by the gate, and only a few patches of thatch and tiles on the roofs.

What impressions could a five-year-old child have of home? A muddy courtyard, earthen walls, whitewashed plaster, thatched tiles, and clay pots. Only the rain remained constant—drizzling softly, scraping the scratches on the walls, the grooves in the ground, and the confusion heavy in his heart.

Sun Zikai sat on the doorstep beneath the eaves, his toes touching the rain, while a few steps ahead stood a small square table. On it lay a rabbit, gutted and sliced open. He had just dissected the dead rabbit when the rain began. He intended to retrieve a medicinal herb from inside the rabbit’s body, but the rain soaked it, rendering it useless.

Blood dripped down the wooden table, seeping into the mud, flowing along the furrows and trenches, winding its way to the small stream outside the door.

After a while, in the rain around the corner, a figure hurried over—a woman of about twenty-four or twenty-five. She stopped abruptly before Sun Zikai.

“Xiao Kai,” the woman’s voice trembled.

“Aunt Ying?” Sun Zikai stood up. “My parents aren’t home; they went back to your sect, right?”

The woman hesitated, pain etched deeply on her face. She crouched and placed a set of keys into Sun Zikai’s palm. “Your parents are dead. These are the keys to the storage at Jinping Manor. Inside are the things they saved up. They’re now entrusted to you.”

Having spoken, she rose immediately, her face a tangle of struggle and tears.

The rain intensified, yet the two remained silent. The woman wrestled with how to explain the cruel truth of death to a child, but it was Sun Zikai who first spoke, his voice tinged with confusion: “Aunt Ying, why did it have to be my parents who died?”

“Huh?” The woman was taken aback. “Xiao Kai, do you understand what death is?”

“I know. I killed a rabbit just this morning. What I’m asking is, why did it have to be my parents? They’re just ordinary people, right? Even though they stayed with your sect for so long, weren’t they always outsiders, from a lesser branch? When they left three days ago, they told us they were going with the elders and disciples to do some important work. I don’t know what it was, but even if it was important, it’s not supposed to be small people like my parents who die.”

The woman was stunned. She had expected the child to wail or go mad, to be ignorant and in need of a long explanation about death. Instead, he understood everything—the cycle of life and death, even the plight of small folk. “Xiao... Xiao Kai...” she began, then noticed his moist eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Her own heart ached, tears falling as she struggled to say, “Child, you’re too young. Some things must wait until you grow up. What will you do? You still have family, right?”

Sun Zikai wiped his tears, his voice calm. “I have my uncle, aunt, cousins,I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.