Hanshan Town was livelier than it had been five years ago.

  The old locust tree at the town entrance still stood tall, its branches now draped with thick icicles. Several dirt roads had been trampled firm, and many of the houses lining them had been renovated—brick-and-tile roofs replacing the thatched ones of the past.

  Yun Che’s family courtyard lay at the eastern end of town.

  From a distance, he recognized the familiar fence—now replaced by a waist-high stone wall. The courtyard gate stood open, a faded red “Fortune” character pasted above the lintel. The three main rooms had clearly been refurbished, green tiles covering the roof and fresh window paper glowing softly.

  It was early morning.

  Thin trails of cooking smoke curled up from the chimney.

  Yun Che paused outside the gate, quietly sweeping the courtyard with his divine sense.

  Inside, a gray-haired old man with a stooped back was instructing a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old boy on how to plane wood. The old man held a half-finished wooden carving in his hands, muttering as he spoke:

  “Steady your wrist, you brat! Look at these lines—too deep here, too shallow there. How is that presentable? Hah… you’re far worse than your brother Yun Che was back then.”

  The boy scratched his head and grinned foolishly.

  “Uncle Yun, Brother Tiezhu was an immortal! How could I compare? If I can learn even thirty percent of your skills, I’ll be able to eat well for the rest of my life!”

  Hearing that familiar voice, Yun Che felt his eyes sting.

  He gently pushed open the gate.

  Creaaak—

  The sound startled the two inside. The old man turned around, and the wooden carving slipped from his hands and fell to the ground with a dull thud.

  Their eyes met.

  The old man rubbed his eyes once, then again, his lips trembling.

  “Tie… Tiezhu?”

  Yun Che stepped forward and knelt down.

  “Father. Tiezhu has returned.”

  Yun’s father froze for a moment, then rushed forward, gripping his son’s shoulders and looking him over from head to toe, tears streaming down his face.

  “It’s really Tiezhu! You’ve grown taller… stronger… good, good!”

  He turned toward the house and shouted, voice choking:

  “Wife! Come out! Our Tiezhu is back!”

  The door burst open. A woman wearing an apron, her temples streaked with white, stumbled out. When she saw Yun Che kneeling on the ground, she froze—then tears poured from her eyes.

  “Mother.”

  Yun Che turned and kowtowed respectfully.

  “Tiezhu has failed in his filial duty. Five years without returning.”

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  Yun’s mother rushed forward, clutching him and sobbing.

  “You heartless child! Five whole years… not even a letter! Do you have any parents left in your heart? Do you know how we waited, day after day, night after night…”

  Yun’s father wiped his tears and forced a smile.

  “What does a woman know! Tiezhu is cultivating immortality—of course cultivation comes first! Come, get up. Let your father take a good look at you.”

  Yun Che rose and supported his mother. After five years, both parents had aged visibly. His father’s hands were cracked and calloused; his mother’s hair had turned completely white at the temples. Cultivation knew no years—

  but the mortal world aged relentlessly.

  “Xiao Liu, go on home,” Yun’s father said to the apprentice.

  “No need to come for the next few days. I’ll call you back after your Brother Tiezhu leaves.”

  The boy named Xiao Liu looked at Yun Che with admiration, agreed repeatedly, packed up his tools, and left.

  That day, the Yun family courtyard was filled with long-lost laughter.

  Yun’s mother personally cooked a full table of dishes—

  all of Yun Che’s childhood favorites: stewed mountain chicken, pan-fried flatbread, pickled vegetables stir-fried with cured meat, and a steaming pot of mushroom soup.

  Though Yun Che had long since reached the stage of fasting from grain, he ate with particular relish. When his parents asked about the past five years, he spoke only of trivial matters, saying he cultivated in the sect and that everything had gone well.

  Suddenly, Yun’s father seemed to recall something.

  “Tiezhu, about a month ago, we saw something like a huge mountain shaking in the sky to the north, with thunder-like sounds… did something happen in your immortal sect?”

  Yun Che paused mid-bite. He set down his bowl and replied calmly,

  “Father, the sect… moved far away. I might not be able to come back often in the future.”

  The two elders exchanged glances. Yun’s mother’s eyes reddened again, but she forced a smile.

  “Moving is good, moving is good… we don’t understand immortal matters. As long as you’re doing well out there, that’s enough.”

  Yun’s father nodded and changed the subject, talking about changes at home over the years.

  Fourth Uncle Yun Feng had opened a general store in town, doing fairly well. With his help, they reclaimed several plots of mountain land that had once been taken from the family. Yun’s father no longer worked as a carpenter himself, instead taking on three apprentices to pass down his craft. Life wasn’t wealthy, but they never lacked food or clothing.

  “Your Fourth Uncle had a son two years ago,” Yun’s mother smiled.

  “Chubby little thing, adorable as can be. You even held him when you were younger—do you remember?”

  Yun Che smiled and nodded, guilt quietly stirring in his heart.

  Over these years, he had done nothing for his family.

  After the meal, Yun’s mother pulled him to sit on the heated kang bed. Her expression suddenly turned serious.

  “Tiezhu, you’re nineteen this year. Boys your age already have children running around town. I know you’re an immortal, but immortals need families too, don’t they? These past few years, several families sent matchmakers—I turned them all away, waiting for you to return. Stay a few more days this time. Let Mother take you to meet some girls?”

  Yun Che was stunned, then laughed bitterly.

  “Mother… I’m still young…”

  “Still young?” she glared.

  “The butcher Zhang’s second son is your age. He married last year—and his wife is already pregnant!”

  Yun’s father coughed lightly and chimed in,

  “You don’t understand, wife. Our Tiezhu is an immortal. If he’s going to marry, it should be an immortal maiden, right? How could ordinary girls be worthy of him?”

  Yun’s mother was momentarily speechless, then muttered,

  “What’s so good about immortals… gone for five years at a time. If he marries an immortal wife, they’ll both fly off—ten years, eight years, never see them again…”

  Yun Che couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.

  “Mother, don’t worry. When your son’s cultivation succeeds, I’ll definitely bring you back a good daughter-in-law—one you’ll be satisfied with.”

  Only then did Yun’s mother brighten, resuming her endless household chatter.

  Late into the night, neither parent felt sleepy. They held onto their son, asking question after question. Yun Che answered patiently, telling them “interesting stories” about the “immortal sect”—

  all of them fabricated.

  The candlelight flickered, illuminating his parents’ kind faces.

  Warmth filled Yun Che’s heart.

  Yet beneath it lay a trace of heaviness.

  How long could days like this truly last?

  Cooking Smoke — The True Mortal Cultivation

  After the fall of a sect and the dominance of the strong, this chapter contains no battles, no breakthroughs—

  only a meal, a trail of smoke, and a family reunited.