Chapter 13: Ancestors

In the carriage, the dark tattoo at the nape of Zhang Mama's neck gradually faded under the gentle cleansing of the medicinal solution, until at last it vanished completely.

Madam Wang watched the entire process with clear eyes, her heart brimming with questions, yet outwardly she maintained a calm and composed demeanor. Zhang Mama, several times, opened her mouth in curiosity to inquire, but upon seeing the old lady's expression, her clever instincts told her to stay silent. Before long, Zhang Mama alighted from the carriage.

Inside, Wang Keyue and Madam Wang carefully applied medicine to each other. Madam Wang, running her hand over her granddaughter’s newly restored, fair neck, allowed a smile of relief to cross her face.

“Yue’er, should anything ever happen in the future, you must always let Grandmother know first. Let me handle everything, do you understand?” There was clearly a deeper meaning in Madam Wang’s words, though she left it unspoken.

“Yes, I understand, Grandmother. You can rest assured!” Wang Keyue’s heart was filled with awe. This old lady was not only courageous and decisive, with a ruthless hand, but also wise and astute. The little tricks she herself had played could never fool her; Madam Wang merely chose to turn a blind eye, unwilling to expose her.

An idea suddenly formed in Wang Keyue’s heart.

“Grandmother, there is indeed something I don’t know how to handle. I would like to ask for your help.”

“Very well, tell me,” Madam Wang replied, gazing affectionately at her well-behaved legitimate granddaughter.

“When I was on the brink of death that day, I dreamed of a white-bearded Daoist. He called himself the patriarch of the Wang family, saying he could not bear to watch our lineage fall into decline and needed my hand to revitalize it…”

From the original host’s memories, Wang Keyue vaguely recalled her father mentioning that, long ago, a legitimate son of the Wang family had indeed entered a Daoist sect and had not been heard from since.

At Madam Wang’s first hearing of this, her whole body trembled in shock and disbelief. “This… this… is this true?”

“Grandmother, do not worry. Every word is true, I dare not deceive you. The white-bearded elder seemed kind and benevolent, not at all like a bad person. At that time, your granddaughter was already at death’s door. He merely stroked my head gently, and I awoke,” Wang Keyue continued to fabricate, showing not the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“What a miraculous occurrence! Yue’er, did the old Daoist say anything else to you?” the old lady pressed.

“He taught me the art of ‘Heaven in the Sleeve’ and reminded me to always heed your guidance. He even said you are a wise woman and a pillar of the Wang family!” Wang Keyue did not forget to flatter her.

“In addition, the old Daoist said he would watch over us, telling us not to be afraid and to act boldly!” In truth, Wang Keyue had put these words in the old Daoist’s mouth to comfort her grandmother.

Sure enough, Madam Wang’s expression grew dazed, deeply moved; her eyes reddened, and tears began to flow unbidden.

She had devoted her entire life to the Wang family, bearing every burden without complaint. Now, in her twilight years, just as she should have been able to enjoy a peaceful life, calamity had struck yet again.

She had to keep going—she could not cry, nor could she falter. She knew that if she fell, the Wang family would be finished.

But she was only a woman, and an old one at that—already past fifty, with one foot in the grave. She, too, grew weary, she too felt pain. Those who had died were all her children and grandchildren.

In such a moment, to hear these words of comfort from a Wang family elder—so resolute—warmed her heart beyond measure.

“Good, good! Many thanks to our family’s ancestor! Yue’er, if you ever meet him again, be sure to thank him for me!” Madam Wang quickly regained herself, hastily dabbing away her tears with a handkerchief.

The Daoist, in her mind, had naturally become the ancestral patriarch of the Wang family—proof that she had accepted Wang Keyue’s story, deep in her heart.

“I will, Grandmother.” Wang Keyue nodded.

Then, right before Madam Wang’s eyes, she drew a sack of rice from her sleeve. Its sudden appearance so startled Madam Wang that she nearly cried out.

“This… what is this?!” Fortunately, she remembered what Wang Keyue had said earlier. “Is this that… technique the ancestor taught you…?”

“Grandmother, this is the art of ‘Heaven in the Sleeve.’ The ancestor left me some daily necessities, fearing we might be robbed on the road, and so he imparted this immortal method to me,” Wang Keyue explained.