Chapter Fifty-Two: Lin He!

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“Heh, as I thought, the sooner you die, the better.”
Lin Tao, shamed into anger, let out a barking laugh as he snapped the ink fan in his hand with a sharp crack, all traces of a refined gentleman gone.
“But I never said it would end like this, did I, Lin He?”
“Oh, by the way, a word of advice—even villains die because they talk too much. Remember that next time.”
“Oh, sorry, it looks like you won’t get a next time. Make the most of your first and only chance.”
Yu Daoyi leaned lightly against Song Qiuling, waiting for Lin He to come out and clean up the mess. Yet the bamboo grove remained silent for a long time.
“……”
“Ah, this is so awkward~” Yu Daoyi said with an embarrassed grin.
That backfired fast…
“Do you think you’re funny?” Lin Tao said coldly.
“I suppose I’m only a little bit funny, but always a bit romantic.” The rascal nodded shamelessly.
“So it was that useless wastrel who tattled, huh? I didn’t expect that,” Lin Tao said, feigning surprise.
“Tsk tsk tsk… cough cough cough…”
“Ugh, that’s killing my throat… I mean, he’s been jumping around under your nose for so long. Aren’t you even a little angry?” Yu Daoyi asked, a bit surprised.
“It’s unexpected, but so what? What can a piece of trash at the sixth stage of Qi Refining possibly do? An ant is still an ant. If he dares to show his face here…”
“And that’s exactly it, Lin—cough cough—Tao, you really haven’t taken my words to heart,” Yu Daoyi sighed.
“What do you mean?”
“Overconfidence is just stupidity in the eyes of others—how blinding it is.”
“Still spouting nonsense at death’s door!” Lin Tao shouted in fury.
“Lin He, if you don’t come out now, I’ll tell him you’re hiding in that little grove a hundred paces behind us,” Yu Daoyi threatened lightly, sweeping the area with his spiritual sense.
Though his sea of consciousness was more a shallow puddle than anything, and admittedly rather weak, for some reason it always seemed to work in unexpected ways. He couldn’t quite figure out why his spiritual sense was so peculiar…
You just blurted it all out! Song Cheng looked at him from the side, utterly speechless.
“Heh, Brother Daoyi, you’re certainly stubborn. You should know that not showing myself now is for the best,” a voice drifted from behind the group.
“Why! We’re out here risking our lives, and you’re just hiding on the sidelines watching the show!” Yu Daoyi protested, full of resentment.
“You know me. What I’ve left behind for you is enough to help you all.” Lin He’s voice came with a sigh from behind.
“Don’t give me that. How do I know what you’re really up to behind our backs?”

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“That’s better. No need to beat around the bush—let’s get this over with and go home. Can’t you see I’m coughing up blood here? I’m an injured man, you know!”
Such a spirited and self-righteous ‘injured man’…
Then, a figure strolled out from the depths of the bamboo grove. Dressed in an ink-black robe and carrying a white folding fan, his attire was entirely different from Lin Tao’s. His face was pale, his eyes narrow, but there was a similar air of androgyny.
“I’m genuinely curious—how did you manage to hide under my nose for so long without me noticing?” Lin Tao narrowed his eyes as Lin He approached from behind, clearly taken aback.
“You jest, cousin. It’s simply a matter of the darkest place being right under the lamp.” Lin He smiled lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“How interesting. Calm and composed—you’re nothing like the timid you I saw before. When did you start pretending?” Lin Tao asked coldly.
“Pretending? What do you mean? The timid one was me, and the one who can now stand before you openly is also me. This wasn’t supposed to be my moment to appear, but I had no choice. That guy wouldn’t rest until he saw me.” Lin He sounded helpless.
“Were you planning to keep hiding? Did you think, once I realized there was a traitor in the Lin family, you could still keep up the act? You know what I’m capable of.” Lin Tao stared at Lin He.
“And that’s your problem, Lin Tao. You’re far too arrogant. Who told you you’d make it out alive?” Lin He dismissed him with a careless wave.
“Hahaha! You’re all fools—no, you are fools! Can’t you see how outnumbered you are?” Lin Tao laughed with contempt.
“I see that, which is why the real fool has always been you.” Lin He was unperturbed, continuing in a gentle voice.
“Are you joking?” Lin Tao’s calmness made him uneasy.
“That’s enough. Uncle Lin, gentlemen, thank you for your efforts,” Lin He suddenly said to several men beside Lin Tao.
“What do you mean?” Lin Tao frowned, a sudden sense of foreboding creeping in.
“I’m hardly in any condition to talk about effort. I’m just tired,” Uncle Lin replied, waving a hand dismissively.
“Uncle, you’ve suffered enough all these years,” Lin He said softly, whether out of apology or not was unclear.
“We pay our respects to Young Master He!” The two wooden-faced men from Dawn Moon Pavilion dropped to one knee, bowing low.
“Thank you both for your hard work,” Lin He said, fluttering his white fan.
“What’s the meaning of this? Why? Even if those two betrayed me, why would even Uncle Lin—why does he call you uncle? Why? What’s going on?” Lin Tao demanded, frowning deeply.
“Tsk tsk, cough cough… damn, this cough is killing me…”
“Whatever, this is getting interesting. If possible, I’d really like some popcorn for this show,” Yu Daoyi murmured, enjoying the scene before him.
“Shut up! Stop talking!” Song Qiuling snapped at him, not understanding a word he was saying.
“No popcorn, no lap pillow—life is bleak and joyless,” the rascal lamented, entirely dejected.
“Lin He! Why! What have you done?” Lin Tao was still lost.
“Qiuling, look at him—doesn’t he look exactly like Song Yong did before?” Yu Daoyi said, watching the drama with relish.
Just as pathetic as a beaten dog.

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“Lin… He? What are you saying? A member of the Lin family? Am I really a Lin by blood?”
“What did you say?” Lin Tao was baffled.
“Lin Tao, you really should have paid attention to what Song Yong told you before.”
“It’s not just the Song family—what’s happened in the Lin family is even more revolting. You’ve always believed you understood everything about the clan, but have you ever probed into those dark corners?”
“You wouldn’t. You look down on them. You think they’re beneath you, filthy to your eyes, dirty to your ears—because none of it matters to you. You were destined to be a genius, blessed in both cultivation and alchemy.”
“You asked why I did all this—well, listen closely. I am a bastard, unlike Song Yong. I hate every last one of you!”
“Lin Tao, after all these years, your arrogance has left you stuck in place! There’s so much you’ll never understand!”
“Lin Tao, I am nothing like you—the legitimate heir of the Lin family. I am nothing but a filthy, despised bastard. Do you even know who my mother was?”

Years ago, when Lin He was a child.
The Lin residence, winter, thick snow falling.
The sky was dim—though it was daytime, the world seemed shrouded in darkness.
Young Lin He sat in the pavilion of the courtyard, watching the snow. It was beautiful—the world draped in silver, the eaves adorned afresh, breathtaking in its splendor.
But it was cold, and empty. A single color blanketed what had once been a vibrant world, draining all its hues until only biting cold and relentless white filled his eyes and heart.
In Lin He’s eyes, there was only a hollow whiteness. His childish cheeks had been reddened by the wind, his small hands clutched the railing so tightly that even as they froze, he refused to let go.
He loved the snow—loved the white of the world—because it made him feel the same as other children. This is how the world was supposed to be: a little whiter, a little colder. It didn’t need so many colors to be beautiful.
Lin He exhaled slowly; a warm breath drifted into the air and vanished in an instant.
For a moment, those hollow eyes seemed to regain a trace of life, a glimmer of childish brightness. Perhaps in this cold season, he could find a sliver of joy, a hint of warmth—he never asked for much.
But then a cold voice snapped at him, and that tiny spark of life vanished from his eyes. He turned—it was his father.
Lin Yan looked at him with a frosty expression, eyes cold and distant, as if asserting his dominance in this household. But Lin He knew his own timidity, knew he was little better than a servant in the Lin residence.
He hadn’t called him father since he could remember—he didn’t deserve it. He could hear his mother’s endless weeping, hear the crashes of objects being hurled behind closed doors. In front of outsiders, his father bent and scraped, abandoning all dignity; at home, he’d put on airs and bark at Lin He, a pitiful show more laughable than a dog.
His mother’s sobs, his own bruises, their shabby room—cold, so cold. Ever since his father’s fit of rage the other day, his door no longer closed, and every night the icy wind swept through his room. No one knew, and no one cared, not even himself.
He looked at the man who was his father in name only, then released the railing. His hands were covered in chilblains, some bleeding. He drew his sleeves tighter, straightened his collar, and walked toward him, remembering he was supposed to pay his respects. His thin clothes revealed his frail body—nothing but an undergarment and the Lin family’s signature white robe, never changed year after year, day after day.
The robe was pristine, no patches or stains. He cherished it, for on its lower right corner was embroidered a simple crane—the only thing his mother had ever given him.