The General's Ancestral House (2)
"Ah… my child… my child…."
The old mother burst into tears and collapsed where she stood.
Young men rushed forward and carried her gently inside.
At a glance from Lee Hui, the five men behind him dismounted and lowered five chests from their horses.
The chests were in perfect order.
Their hands were careful, their steps slow.
The five who bore the relics bowed their heads deeply the moment they crossed the main gate, as though treading upon sacred ground.
Before the gate, the courtyard became a sea of tears in an instant.
When one began to weep, nearly all followed.
The wailing was restrained, and for that very reason, heavier.
It was the kind of weeping that swallowed its own sound, and thus sank deeper.
A man who resembled the General stood beside the old mother and looked at Lee Hui.
His gaze trembled, yet he struggled to keep his voice from breaking.
"I am the General's elder brother. My name is Jin Musik."
"It is an honor. I am Lee Hui."
"And my younger brother—what became of him?"
It was a question sharp as a blade.
Lee Hui drew in a breath.
"After defeating the barbarians, he received stipend and land in the imperial capital. On his way home, near Mount Bokwoo, he brought his life to its close."
"Ah…."
Jin Musik clenched his teeth.
Three or four men who bore the same likeness lowered their heads and wiped their tears.
Younger brothers, nephews, sisters-in-law.
Jin Musik made a quiet gesture.
The brothers and nephews stepped forward to receive the relics.
Their hands trembled as they accepted the chests.
They received them with utmost reverence, yet their mouths did not easily open.
"Your journey was long. Please, come inside first."
Jin Musik did not abandon formality to the end.
That courtesy itself was the dignity of the house.
Lee Hui shook his head.
"No. We are many. The estate will be burdened. We will not impose. We shall camp outside."
"No. There is ample space within. My brother's loyal subordinates are not merely guests of the Jin household—they are our companions. Whether wide or narrow, we must share it together. Please, enter."
Jin Musik's gaze passed briefly over the local militia.
There was a flash of discontent in that glance, quick as lightning.
It was the look of a man who had endured something because of them.
"And those soldiers—what are they? They appear to be local militia…."
Lee Hui answered shortly.
"They blocked the road into Anyang. They were discourteous and appeared problematic. We are educating them."
"Ah… I see. Educating them…."
Jin Musik did not inquire further.
The household received guests first and postponed shame until later.
In the end, the White Dragon Corps entered the estate.
Many rushed forward, taking hands and guiding Lee Hui's men inside.
Chickens were slaughtered. Pigs were butchered.
Jars of wine were brought and set down in the broad central courtyard.
The hospitality was not ostentatious, yet it was generous.
It was the way of a house that did not abandon propriety, even in grief.
While the White Dragon Corps settled in the courtyard and eased their fatigue,
Lee Hui was guided into the inner hall.
The family, having already received word, had enshrined a spirit tablet to one side.
Before it, sheets bearing the General's honorific title were laid in neat rows.
The five brothers and nephews who had carried the relics set the chests down reverently before the portrait.
In that single motion dwelled the heart of returning what was entrusted.
"Please, be seated."
Jin Musik offered a place.
The father and mother sat.
Jin Musik's wife sat.
The General's younger brothers and their wives gathered around the wide round table.
Jin Musik introduced each person in turn.
It was an old custom.
To present all immediate kin to those who had come.
With each introduction, Lee Hui bowed slightly.
In a place that received such sacrifice, courtesy must precede speech.
Then came the painful moment.
General Jin Muguang's wife was introduced.
The widow, younger than her years, bore quiet dignity.
She was graceful, and that grace deepened the sorrow.
Her gaze faced forward, yet her eyes seemed fixed on some distant place beyond.
She avoided meeting another's eyes.
In her silence, the weight of grief grew heavier.
Lee Hui steadied his breath and looked at them calmly.
Whom should he trust.
To whom should he speak the truth.
The father.
The elder brother.
The widow.
The younger brothers.
Their faces all resembled one another.
Yet it was not a place for careless words.
The burden of delivering truth to someone tightened around his throat.
Words did not come easily.
After the introductions ended, silence lingered for a long while.
The chests and wrappings were opened, and the relics were brought out.
Some were moved before the spirit tablet.
Some were placed before the aged parents.
The father received the iron sword.
He drew it tightly against his chest.
Only then did he cry aloud.
Keoi, keoi.
It was weeping held in restraint.
A cry forced down and endured.
The cry of a man striving to steady himself with the thought that it sufficed—that a son of his had fought and died for the nation.
However much he was a public man 公人, a general, a strong man—he was still a son.
Once the old father's tears broke, they would not cease.
The inner hall 內殿 grew drenched in sorrow.
At such a time, one must yield the place to the most stricken.
More than husband, more than brother, the grief of parents who send a son before them runs deepest.
Deep lines layered the old man's aged eyes.
Between those lines, clear tears flowed for a long while.
Those tears settled the air of the room into darkness.
The fingertips of those who handed over the relics, and the breath of those who received them, grew heavy together.
l's Ancestral House (2)