When Yun Qiang saw his village in the distance, his eyes shined with joy. He couldn't wait to see his sister and the rest of his family again. He also wanted to see how the rest of the villagers were doing. Being a small village, he was on good terms with most of them and knew all of them by name.
The first person to see him was Old Qian, his father's best friend, and the man he was almost named after. According to his parents, Old Qian had saved Yun Qiang's father from a falling tree, so when Yun Qiang was born, they had decided to give him a similar name to Old Qian.
"Old Qian! It's me, Yun Qiang!"
Old Qian turned around, his hands almost letting go of the heavy basket he was carrying.
"It's you?!"
He hugged him, his old hands barely managing to wrap around Yun Qiang's fit physique.
"Yun Qiang. How long has it been?"
He put a hand on his shoulder.
"You have grown taller. What are you doing here? How is your brother doing at the Sect?"
Yun Qiang's smile widened, showing his white teeth.
"It's a long story, we can talk about it later." He took the straw basket from Old Qian's hands.
"Here, let me help you. It's been a while since I was here. I want to go and see my family."
Old Qian's smile froze when he heard these words.
"Little Qiang...."
Yun Qiang looked at him strangely. It had been years since someone had called him like that.
Old Qian stared at the ground.
"Qiang, your parents died last year, and your sister left with a cultivator...."
Yun Qiang froze, his eyes widened.
"What?! Tell me what happened now!"
He stared at the trembling old man before him. Old Qian seemed so shocked, and he could barely stand.
Yun Qiang felt a wave of shame. His gaze moved to the ground as his free hand picked up another basket filled with wood.
"I'm sorry...." He lowered his voice. "Please tell me what happened."
Old Qian took a few moments to calm down and stop trembling. As a mortal, he was more sensible to cultivators' aura, and when Yun Qiang had screamed, he had felt an oppressive pressure on his already weak heart.
"..."
"Follow me, your parents are buried nearby..."
"In the meantime, I will tell you what happened that day."
A few minutes later, they arrived at a small tomb at the edge of the village. It was a small rectangular tomb, just wide enough to fit two people right beside each other.
Yun Qiang fell to his knees. He could clearly see his parents' names on the tomb. His eyes became wet with tears.
"You said they fell ill during winter?"
Old Qian nodded, his eyes wandered to the forest beside them.
"Yes, it was a cold winter. Food and animals had become scarce. Your parents became weak and fell ill. They barely made it to spring, but..."
Old Qian's words died in his throat. Yun Wein was a dear friend of his. His death still pained him.
"We buried them together. At the time, we tried sending some letters out, but we never received a response..."
Yun Qiang's tears started slowing down, his voice becoming clearer. Even if he wanted, he couldn't feel the same level of sadness he felt in the past.
"I was in the army. I never received any letters...."
Old Qian's gaze moved to Yun Qiang. He could see it in his gaze. The way Yun Qiang looked at the tomb, it was something too familiar to him.
"How many people did you lose?"
Yun Qiang's response was slow, his voice sounding dry.
"Too many."
Old Qian didn't respond. In his youth, he was forced to join the army and had been stationed at the border for six years. The only reason he made it back alive was because of a kind cultivator that gifted him enough points to leave the guard.
"They still use dead bodies as weapons?"
Old Qian wanted to comfort him but found himself incapable of doing it.
Even if he had seen war, he couldn't compare his experience to Yun Qiang's. Too many years had passed since his youth, and Yun Qiang was a cultivator, so his experience would also be different than his.
"Yes..."
Yun Qiang stood up, his face still wore a sad expression. However, he had stopped crying.
"What about Mei? You said a cultivator picked her up? Was it a wandering cultivator or sect?"
Old Qian responded.
"Yes, she joined a sect called Swords of Heaven in the Crow Dynasty."
His eyes moved towards a building in the distance.
"Later on, she sent us a letter. She said that she had seen Nian and that you had committed a crime of some kind.... She also sent some food."
Yun Qiang sighed.
"I was framed..., but it doesn't matter. My sentence at the border is already finished. I paid for my crime, and now I'm home..."
His eyes wandered off towards the houses in the village.
"Home sweet home."
There was a hint of bitterness and irony in his voice. Was there anything left for him in this village?
"Do you still keep the wood in the same place? Also is it a problem if I stay in my parent's house?"
"I will stay there for just a few months. Nothing more."
Old Qian shook his head
"Yes, I still keep it there...."
His gaze moved towards a house in the distance.
"Yun Qiang, nobody's using that house, and the village is pretty empty these days anyway...."
A small pang of sadness still hit Yun Qiang.
That winter must have killed a lot of people...
However, this feeling quickly disappeared. Yes, he knew all of them and he could consider them friends to some level, but they weren't his family; their relation was more similar to neighbors that helped each other in time of need.
He sighed, his feet already moving towards Old Qiang's storage.
Of all the people left in the village, Yun Qiang only felt connected to Old Qian. The old man had taken care of him when he was young and had taught him his first spear moves.
Besides, he had saved his father. In a way, his family was indebted to Old Qian.
Yun Qiang calmly left the straw baskets inside Old Qian's store before going to his home. He had already made up his mind. He would stay here for a few months, taking care of Old Qian and making sure the old man had enough food for the winter.
After that he would leave for another place.
This place didn't feel like home anymore.