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The main hall was heavy with tension. The faint scent of dust and lamp oil lingered in the air, and from beyond the doorway came the low murmur of villagers a restless tide whispering in the wind.
Madam Wei's sharp gaze swept over Han Yan, her lips twisting into a cold sneer.
"Han Yan, good, very good. You've got yourself a house now, hoarding all the money for yourself, and still have the nerve to speak about filial piety. Truly, what a fine son you've become."
Her words dripped with venom, each syllable sharp enough to cut.
Han Yan looked at her Indifferently, his expression remained unmoved as though her scorn had failed to reach him at all.
"I think you've forgotten that we already agreed on this matter," he said evenly. "I'm only here to take what belongs to me. Once I'm done, I'll leave. Please don't delay me any longer."
His tone was calm, unhurried yet that composure struck deeper than any insult.
Madam Wei's face darkened, her eyes widened; she hadn't expected him to speak to her so bluntly.
"You... did you eat a bear's heart and a leopard's gall? Look at you, daring to talk back to your elders!"
Han Yan tilted his head slightly. "So what if I have?"
"What?" Madam Wei snapped, startled. Momentarily thrown off. "What did you say?"
"So what if I have?" he repeated softly, his voice steady, his gaze unreadable. "I've already done more than enough for this family. I owe you nothing. Whatever you say won't make me feel guilty. If, in your eyes, that makes me a beast then so be it. It makes no difference to me."
A stunned silence followed. The words were neither loud nor harsh, yet they struck harder than any shout.
From the side, Madam Zhang gasped, clutching her son tightly.
"Tsk… he dares talk back at mother-in-law?!" She whispered in disbelief.
Madam Liu merely snorted softly, her lips curling as she watched the scene unfold with amusement.
At the edge of the room, little Han Ling, forgotten for the moment, quietly slipped behind her younger sister. Her small hands clutched the girl's sleeve, trembling. Wide eyes peeked from behind the pillars as she tried to make herself smaller, afraid Madam Wei's fury might suddenly turn toward her again.
Outside, the villagers began to murmur.
Madam Wei's face flushed crimson her body trembling as she shouted. "You all what are you gossiping about?! This is my family matter!"
But her words only fueled the whispers.
"Family matter? One villager said boldly.
"Then perhaps you should handle it like family, not like a tyrant in your own courtyard."
"Madam Wei, you should just let Han Yan take his things," another added. "You've already caused a scene, especially after treating little Han Ling like that."
"We'll report to the village chief if you don't want to reason" someone else chimed in, and soon, more voices joined indignant, murmuring, alive.
Gasps and whispers rippled through the gathered villagers. the air thick with judgment.
Madam Wei heard every word. Her pride cracked, her eyes darted around, finding only disapproval reflected back at her, rage and fury surged like boiling water, she glared at Han Yan with thick hatred.
"You think you're so great just because you moved out? That house, that money it all came from this family! Without us, what are you?"
Han Yan met her gaze, utterly unshaken.
"If that's what you believe, then keep believing it. I have no intention of arguing."
"You!" Madam Wei's voice cracked as she clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms. Rage burned in her eyes, her lips trembled, but under the weight of the villagers' stares, she could do nothing more her words turned to ash.
Silence spread once more. Madam Zhang lowered her gaze while Madam Liu turned away. Little Han Ling's thin shoulders relaxed slightly as Madam Wei's attention faltered, though she still clung tightly to her sister.
The once-proud Madam Wei stood alone, her anger burning itself out like a dying flame.
Han Yan gave her one final indifferent glance before turning toward the back room. His steps were unhurried, his back straight. The faint light from the courtyard spilled across his shoulders, outlining him in pale gold.
Behind him, Madam Wei stood rooted in place, her lips pressed tight, face stiff with humiliation unable to speak another word.
For a long moment, no one dared breathe too loudly.
And as Han Yan's silhouette disappeared down the corridor, the villagers whispered, almost themselves
"That's not the same Han Yan anymore…"
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He turned into the narrow path leading to the far courtyard the one tucked behind the old locust tree, quiet and almost forgotten. The air here was still, carrying only the faint scent of sun-warmed earth and bamboo.
When he reached the gate, he paused. The small courtyard beyond was bathed in gentle afternoon light. A bamboo fence leaned slightly to one side, its shadow falling in slanted lines across the ground. A water jar stood near the doorway, half-filled, a single leaf floating on its surface.
A gust of wind brushed past, stirring the thin curtain by the window. The faint creak of wood echoed softly, as if greeting his return.
The courtyard was small and quiet, worn by years yet carrying traces of life. The broom leaning by the wall, the neatly coiled rope by the eaves, even the faint prints of Lin Xin's feet near the well all spoke of simple, steady days.
For a long moment, Han Yan stood still, his gaze calm. Though this body remembered the place, the soul within did not. The faint familiarity pressing against him belonged to someone else entirely. The air was warm, yet somewhere deep within, a thread of cold detachment settled in his chest.
Then, without a word, he stepped inside.
The interior was simple but tidy. The mud-plastered walls were swept clean, and a thin blanket lay folded on the low bed. A single table stood by the window, holding a wooden bowl and a few folded clothes. The light streaming through the paper window cast a soft glow over everything, turning the humble space almost gentle.
Without speaking, Han Yan walked to the corner where their belongings were kept. Lin Xin's clothes were neatly stacked each piece carefully mended. Han Yan gathered them one by one, added his own, and tied the bundle with a strip of cloth. His movements were calm and steady, neither hurried nor sentimental.
When he finished, he gave the room one final glance. The sunlight spilling through the window fell upon the table and floor, drawing quiet gold across the worn surfaces.
Then he turned and stepped out into the courtyard once more. The door creaked softly behind him, and the faint rustle of wind filled the silence that followed.
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