( tradition)
Ning stepped forward, hugging Wei tightly. The siblings joined, the embrace swelling with tears and warmth. Even Zhang Lin's eyes glimmered faintly, and Ning did not pull away. For once, he let himself feel completely surrounded by family.
They laughed, tears still wet on cheeks, until a voice from outside broke the moment.
"It's time."
The room fell silent. Ning's gaze lingered on every corner of his chamber—the folds of his bedspread, the scent of home. His mother stepped forward, simple robes flowing, and embraced him. She pressed a jade ring onto his finger. "For protection," she whispered. The elders' chests swelled with pride, though Ning noticed the mountain of luggage beside him.
He climbed into the waiting carriage, shoulders heavy, heart heavier. Tang and the servants guided him, the red petals from Elder Mi's farm still scattering across the path. Wei called teasingly from behind, "Here comes the bride! And remember—my dishes were the best!"
Ning laughed, letting the humor warm him even as his chest ached.
The carriage rolled forward, leaving the familiar gates behind. The road was long and harsh. For two days, rain lashed, mud clung, and the wheels groaned over uneven paths. Ning's robes were damp, his posture weary. Tang remained at his side, offering guidance with steady patience.
"You cannot rely on charm or strength alone," Tang said. "The Qi Kingdom is wealthy, yes, but it is sharp. Every gesture, every word… they notice. You carry the honor of the Zhang family now, even as a Bi groom."
Ning exhaled slowly. "I know… but even as a Bi, I will always be Zhang Ning. The second young master of the Zhang family. That cannot be erased."
The horizon finally revealed the gates of the Qi Kingdom, gilded and vast. The scent of blooming flowers and polished wood reached him. Ning adjusted his white-and-silver belt—the gleam of the clan's legacy against his waist—and prepared himself for the life awaiting beyond.
Meanwhile, back at the Zhang estate, Ning's absence hung heavily over the family. Though the halls were neat, the gardens trimmed, and the routines restored, his laughter and presence were sorely missed. Their mother moved quietly, lingering over his room, while the siblings trained harder than ever, tightening their bonds through practice, gossip, and play.
Zhang Wei, however, felt the shift more acutely. The emptiness of Ning's absence pressed against his chest, suffocating him. He noticed how even Lin's stoicism had a faint falter, how Fei Fei's smiles were tinged with longing, how Sang's calm demeanor wavered.
The grand hall remained imposing, the elders' eyes sharp, watching every young master and miss. Within a month, the Great Tournament would be held—a chance to bring pride to the family. The announcement was met with cheers, but Wei's heart sank. He had not wished to participate.
Reading Wei's expression, Zhang Chuan's gaze swept over him. A finger jabbed decisively.
"You must at least have your name in the top twenty. Fail that, and your name will be stripped from the Zhang registry."
Wei went pale. Zhang Mi stumbled in anger, fists clenched—but the elders' piercing eyes froze him instantly. The siblings watched in shocked silence.
"Then," the head elder said, voice iron-cold, "train harder. Sharpen yourselves. For the Zhang. For the family."
Wei's jaw tightened. The weight of expectation pressed down like never before. He looked around at Lin's composure, Fei Fei's determination, Sang's calm resolve—and then to the open practice fields. The challenge was clear. The plot had only begun. He had to survive, to rise, to make his mark.
For Ning, the road ahead was full of luxury, wealth, and the sharp scrutiny of the Qi Kingdom. For Wei, it was relentless training, fear of failure, and the pressure of tradition. And for the family, Ning's absence lingered like a ghost—aching, bittersweet, yet full of love that would always follow him.
The threads of their fates were weaving tighter, the story only beginning.
And whether through laughter, tears, or struggle, the bonds of the Zhang family endured—strong, unbreakable, and eternal.