Chapter Five: Prosperity Amidst the Mortal World (Additional Chapter for 1000 Recommendation Votes)

At present, when counting the family lines, apart from his daughter Ruoxi, the closest blood relative in the third generation of the Shen family was, ironically, Shen Lian. Shen Qingshan was lost in his thoughts, but was brought back by Shen Lian’s voice—he hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the young man for quite some time. With a fierce embrace, Shen Qingshan pulled Shen Lian close. “Good child, let’s go inside quickly,” he said, pausing to sigh. “Let’s also pay our respects to your two cousins.”

Though not particularly close to his two nephews, their sudden passing still grieved him deeply. Shen Lian felt somewhat uncomfortable in his arms. Firstly, though he was now the owner of this body and, by blood, Shen Qingshan was indeed his uncle, and he had resolved to live on under this identity as a way to make amends for taking over another’s life, he was, after all, a grown man at heart. He knew there were countless advantages to accepting this role, yet his mind could not wholly adapt in so short a time. Secondly, Shen Qingshan was still strong and sturdy, while Shen Lian in his current state was weak; the bear hug felt like being caught in a vice, painfully tight.

Short of breath, Shen Lian managed a few coughs before Shen Qingshan finally released him, a look of apology on his face. “Look how thin and frail you are. You must have suffered these two years in the mountains. It’s my fault—I’ve been so busy and never found time to visit you.”

Shen Lian could hardly retort; he certainly couldn’t admit he was now just a feeble youth. He swore inwardly that, over the coming days, he would train his body into robust strength. Although his spirit was formidable, his intelligence and memory prodigious—talents fitting the style of a prodigy—he had no desire to remain weak.

He followed Shen Qingshan into the courtyard. The Shen family home was as unadorned as ever, lacking in ornate gardens and possessing only a few mourning decorations. Of course, with his modern sensibilities, even if the estate had been as grand as a palace, it would not have impressed him.

He passed through the halls with Shen Qingshan, his demeanor calm and composed, never glancing about curiously, which made Shen Qingshan regard him with even greater respect.

This child truly had a taste for the Dao; if nothing else, his tranquility and detachment set him apart from all the young people in Qingzhou Prefecture.

He thought to himself that perhaps the old master’s seemingly wild idea was not so foolish after all.

As Shen Lian and Shen Qingshan entered the main hall, an elderly man with silver hair and beard sat in the place of honor. He was full of spirit, showing none of the frailty of age. Shen Lian’s maternal grandmother had passed away years ago, so the old patriarch’s authority in the house was absolute, making him a daunting figure.

Shen Lian felt a wave of respect. It is always a sorrow when the white-haired must bury the black-haired. The old patriarch had lost two grandsons, yet he bore no excessive grief—truly a man of iron will.

Perhaps because Shen Lian resembled his mother, the old patriarch’s usually stern expression softened a little. He remarked to those around him, “This child truly resembles his mother.”

Shen Lian bowed to his grandfather and, at the same time, took the opportunity to observe the people nearby. The middle-aged man at the old master’s side must be his eldest uncle, Shen Qingshi, whose face was heavy with sorrow. He was wrapped tightly in mourning robes and looked even more haggard than Shen Lian, his swollen eyes betraying many sleepless nights.

Next to him sat a middle-aged woman, her features a touch severe, with thin, tightly pressed lips, showing no warmth at Shen Lian’s arrival. This was his eldest aunt, Lady Xu. She did not seem particularly grieved—perhaps because neither of the deceased cousins was her own son.

On the other side stood a mother and daughter. The mother was dressed simply; her brows were gracefully arched, her expression gentle and kind. Though fine lines touched her eyes, they only enhanced her mature charm. She held the hand of a radiant young girl, who appeared a little older than Shen Lian, clad in a light blue silk dress of understated elegance. Her budding figure was slender and upright, like a lotus just about to bloom. In the prime of her youth, she needed no embellishments—her natural beauty was striking, and even Shen Lian, accustomed to modern beauties, felt his heart race at the sight of a maiden in ancient attire.

Unlike the manufactured perfection he’d seen in his previous life, this girl’s beauty was unadorned and fresh, a product of nature, and her upbringing in a wealthy family gave her a fair, delicate complexion that would draw attention anywhere.

In his previous world, she might have been considered a late-blooming young girl, but in this ancient-like society, she was already of an age to consider marriage. If not for her mother’s favored status with the old master, she would likely have been married off long ago, but at seventeen she had yet to leave home.

This pair was, of course, his second aunt, Lady Chen, and his cousin, Shen Ruoxi.

After so many years apart, the Shen family did not quite know how to interact with Shen Lian, especially considering his sensitive position. The old patriarch’s reason for summoning Shen Lian back likely harbored other intentions. After all, for the old master, the distinction between granddaughter and grandson was negligible. If his eldest uncle, like Shen Qingshan, proved unable to have children, the question of inheritance would become a pressing concern.

Cautious and discreet, Shen Lian answered the old master’s questions and attended to the elders’ various inquiries with measured responses, careful to maintain the proper balance.

The old patriarch did not show Shen Lian any particular affection—perhaps out of habit, or perhaps wounded by the loss of his grandsons.

When the old master finally grew tired and retired to rest, Shen Lian noticed that Lady Xu’s gaze had grown even more unfriendly. He understood well enough—had he appeared foolish, she might have been pleased, for then the old patriarch would not have paid him much mind. Now, with the eldest uncle childless and ailing, and uncertain if he could ever father a son, the matter of inheritance would no longer be so straightforward. With Shen Lian’s addition, Lady Xu’s share might dwindle yet further.

When the meeting at last concluded, a servant led Shen Lian to his room. To his surprise, after all these years, his room remained almost unchanged.

He sent a maid to brew some ginseng tea and, once he felt warmth return to his body, began to exercise alone in his room.

This so-called bodyweight training involved using his own weight to strengthen every part of his body, unlike the isolated muscle work of equipment training—here, the whole body moved in concert.

Had anyone entered, they would have seen Shen Lian gripping the bed frame, lowering himself until his chest nearly touched the edge, then slowly straightening his arms again—a movement that, to the uninformed, might have seemed rather embarrassing.

In truth, it was a basic exercise from his former life. When his soul force told him he’d reached his limit, he stood up and, after a while, began another set.

After he finished, a natural warmth spread through his body, reaching every limb and bone—the beneficial effect of the ginseng tea now taking hold.