Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five: Mother

In the afternoon, Qin Yang visited Liu Molan’s home. Her injuries had mostly healed, and the scars on her face had faded significantly. Qin Yang estimated that in three or four days, she would be fully recovered. The wounds on her legs were also nearly healed. She had now officially returned to work, allowing Tao Caijie, who had been holding things together, to rest properly for a few days. After checking her condition and prescribing several new remedies, Qin Yang left peacefully. He no longer worried about Liu Molan’s safety. The underworld was gradually being consolidated by Liu Long, and with Ji Liehu’s backing, the progress was swift. Minor gang skirmishes were quelled by the next day, and two elite ghost soldiers were always on standby in Haitian City. Qin Yang truly believed no one would dare to stir trouble anymore.

After a night’s rest, once Qi Mengwei and Xiao Lan had left, Qin Yang and Han Dongxue gathered their things and, accompanied by Shen Lang, headed downstairs. Just as they reached the door, Qin Yang spotted the somewhat aged Han Elder standing nearby. Han Dongxue’s lips twitched slightly as she pulled Shen Lang into the car. Qin Yang knocked on the door and approached Han Elder with a smile. “Still haven’t convinced her?”

“Difficult,” Han Elder replied with a bitter smile.

“Come on, it’s not that big a deal. I think it’s about time; that’s just her temper,” Qin Yang chuckled.

Han Elder shook his head and asked, “Where are you two headed?”

“Taking her on a trip,” Qin Yang shrugged. “To relax. Maybe when she returns, she’ll have opened her heart. By the way, aren’t you pretty idle these days?”

“More or less,” Han Elder said without objection. “What else should I do?”

“Heh, I’m about to start a traditional medicine company. You know how the Black Plague is causing havoc outside, and I happen to have the cure. Actually, this trip is about gathering some herbs. Interested in being an advisor for my company? If you join, you’ll immediately regain the legendary ‘Thirteen Shots’ techniques of the Han family, plus some ancient medical manuscripts you’ve never seen. They’re my personal handwritten copies, precious beyond measure,” Qin Yang tempted.

“Really?” Han Elder, aware of Qin Yang’s medical prowess, felt tempted. After all, he had nothing better to do.

“Of course. Liu Yan is already preparing. I’m not afraid to tell you this. When things settle down, I’ll have Han Dongxue help at the company. At least she’ll have a job, and you can strengthen family bonds,” Qin Yang said with a smile.

At this point, Han Elder immediately agreed.

“Oh, and if any of your old colleagues are interested in lost medical arts, there’s always a spot for them on the advisory board,” Qin Yang added with a grin. “Remember, lost medical arts.”

Han Elder nodded, finding Qin Yang’s offer credible. His old peers were indeed idle at home; joining would be better. He agreed and left. Qin Yang returned to the car, and only then did Han Dongxue ask what was said. He gave a vague answer before discussing future work plans. Han Dongxue agreed without hesitation—after all, with Xiao Lan at school and Qi Mengwei working, she was quite lonely alone.

“Huh? This isn’t the way to Mount Lu,” Han Dongxue remarked, noticing Qin Yang wasn’t driving west but north, feeling puzzled.

“Before that, we’re attending a wedding,” Qin Yang forced a smile.

Han Dongxue’s interest piqued. Seeing Qin Yang’s faint sadness, she teased, “Not your ex-girlfriend’s wedding, is it? Don’t worry, I’ll give you enough face. I may not be as beautiful as Sister Qi Mengwei, but I’m not bad either.”

“No,” Qin Yang rolled his eyes playfully. “It’s a deceased friend’s.”

Han Dongxue silently nodded, gently stroking Shen Lang’s head.

After more than three hours, they arrived at Tang Li’s hometown, Sanjiang City. Named after the convergence of three rivers, this beautiful city was the ideal habitat for humans. Qin Yang drove to Tang Li’s family address, finding an older residential complex. Red wedding decorations were faintly visible—Tang Xiaomei was getting married. Parking nearby, he and Han Dongxue got out, instructing Shen Lang to behave. Neither dared to believe anyone would dare steal their car.

They walked through the complex to the last, somewhat yellowed building. Following the address, they entered and found a lively scene. At Tang Li’s home, the door was open, and several people were chatting inside. An elder woman stepped out, asking, “Who are you looking for?”

“Is this Tang Xiaomei’s home?” Qin Yang asked politely.

The older lady, presumably Tang Li’s mother, nodded. “Yes, it is. And you?”

“I’m Tang Li’s comrade-in-arms,” Qin Yang replied.

“Ah?” Tang mother was stunned. The festive expression turned sorrowful, disbelief washing over her face. “He… isn’t he?”

“I promised him I would attend Tang Xiaomei’s wedding,” Qin Yang nodded. “He told me to come here.”

Tang mother nodded, intending to welcome them inside, but Qin Yang stopped her. “There’s something I wish to tell you privately.”

She didn’t refuse and spoke briefly to the guests before leading Qin Yang and Han Dongxue to a modest inner room. The decorations were simple, but old photos adorned the table—images of Tang Li as a child and in his early military years. Tang mother gestured for them to sit. Qin Yang then said, “Tang Li was killed recently while on a mission.”

“What?” Tang mother couldn’t believe it. “Wasn’t it long ago?”

“No. Tang Li made a grave mistake during a mission. To protect him, the military fabricated news of his death. Recently, to attend Tang Xiaomei’s wedding, he and I undertook a dangerous mission together. During it, he sacrificed himself to save a Chinese citizen, pierced in the heart by shrapnel. Before dying, he confided everything to me,” Qin Yang said bitterly.

“I… I…” Tang mother was overwhelmed, tears welling up.

“His body is in Haitian City. After the wedding, I will arrange for it to be brought home. He did not want his true death to disrupt his sister’s wedding,” Qin Yang’s voice was heavy.

“Why did this happen?” Tang mother sank onto the bed. Han Dongxue quickly moved forward to comfort her gently.

“Why was I unaware that my son was alive? And why, when I finally learn he is not dead, can I only see his corpse?” Tang mother cried.

Qin Yang felt guilty. “I’m sorry. You should have known all this before. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

Suddenly, Yang Guang’s voice came from the doorway. Qin Yang looked up, surprised to see Yang Guang and Wu Ya standing there. He frowned. “Why are you here?”

“How could we not know about Xiaomei’s wedding?” Wu Ya placed a package on the table. “Tang Li kept updating his family through Wei Boyang. He was excited for days after learning about his sister’s marriage. This is a letter he wrote but never sent. We found it, along with some photos, in his room.”

Tang mother excitedly opened the package, revealing numerous letters and family photos, including group portraits and Tang Li’s personal images. These treasures became her solace, her eyes never leaving them. No matter how Han Dongxue comforted her, she could not be consoled. Thankfully, her sobbing was quiet; otherwise, curious neighbors might have barged in.

“My child,” Tang mother whispered, clutching the photos tightly.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” a clear voice called from the doorway. Everyone turned to see Tang Xiaomei, dressed lightly and elegantly, entering the room. Seeing her mother in tears, she hurried over cautiously, eyeing the guests.

Tang mother stopped her gently. “This is your brother’s comrade and a guest here for your wedding. It’s alright, dear. I’m fine. Please go outside. I want to talk with them.”

Hearing this, Tang Xiaomei left, confused.

Wiping her tears, Tang mother asked, “Can you tell me more about his imprisonment? Though I never saw him, hearing about him would bring some comfort.”

“No problem.”