Power Up Artist Yang - Chapter 315 The Young Master’s Pas

The earliest years of Yu Zixu’s life were perhaps the happiest parts of his childhood. His father loved him greatly. His mother loved him just as much. He had a younger brother, only four years younger than him, and they were the best that siblings could be.

His mother adored flowers. She adored nature, all of it, from the sun to the rain, the wind to the soil, the leaves to the branches to the petals. She couldn’t stand staying indoors. At any opportunity, she would spend time in her courtyard. Zixu would watch her, from the perspective of a curious child, as his mother proceeded with her daily tasks.

She would water and plant new flowers herself. Unlike the other madams and ladies who only did a little bit of trimming and snipping here or there, she didn’t like to cut the flowers. She liked the way the plants grew naturally, sprawling over the bed of grass in delicate little white flowers, or spiraling around her windowsill in curls.

Most things could not keep her attention span for long either. She jumped from task to task, always searching for something new and exciting to do. Amongst the few things that could keep her attention, one of them was mixing the ink for her husband, Zixu’s father. While Zixu sat on the opposite side of the table, she would grind the inkstick against the stone, slowly making sure that enough ink filled the stone. His father, meanwhile, would paint with that ink. Zixu liked watching this as a child. He liked seeing the way the ink-dipped brush marked the page, revealing an intricate scene of nature. It was as if his father was crafting a slice of a small world, while Zixu watched and while his mother mixed the ink.

The second thing that kept her attention were trips outside the capital. At any chance she could get, she would take Zixu out, to fields of flowers that she would weave chains of flowers and pick messy bouquets from. All of these times, she would take Ziyang along as well. Yet when Ziyang’s health began to show signs of illness, she would only take Zixu. The two would sit under the shade of the magnolia grove, quietly passing time with serenity. It was during these trips where his mother would finally relax.

He didn’t realize it back then, but looking back at it, the flower fields were a temporary escape from reality for her. His younger brother’s continuously worsening health was a great concern for the entire family, but the one who took on the most stress was their mother.

Zixu remembered his mother, during those days, as a woman who only smiled. She was like sunlight, forever warm and glowing. Most of his memories remained of her lying amidst the flowers, or watering the plants, or mixing the ink, light streaming through the paper windows to catch her soft expression.

Zixu thought, back in those days, that everything was alright.

Things began to change when Zixu turned seven.

The Yu Family had a history of merchants for their ancestors, save for a few here and there, going into the government. His father was one of those, becoming a high-ranked official due to his friendship with a few prominent families. Yet around the time Zixu was seven, his older uncle and the one carrying on the business died from disease. Zixu’s father let go of his government career to carry on the family business.

The world thought that he was foolish back then, to throw away a government position for the lowly status of a merchant. Except when Zixu thought back to these actions of his father, in retrospect, it seemed like his father had wanted to quit from the government for a long while now. This was just an opportunity for him to slip away.

Along with this event, which was notable but didn’t seem too dramatic in the past, things began to slowly change in Zixu’s life.

He remembered a fight between his mother and father. Sitting outside while that went on, he didn’t completely hear or remember what had happened. He just knew that they started arguing. It was the first time that he heard them fight so openly. The rest of the villa was hushed, awaiting in complete silence while screams and shouts and insults were thrown across.

At the end of eternity, the shouting ceased. His mother stormed outside, door slamming to the side. Her cheeks were red, tears noticeably still staining her skin. When she noticed Zixu, standing by the side and staring at her with wide eyes, she came to a stop.

Zixu came up to her, putting his smaller hand in hers. “What happened, Mother?”

She froze up, her hand tensing.

And then— he would remember this look forever— she stared back at him, not an ounce of warmth in her gaze. She whipped her hand away, clutching it close to her. With a trembling voice, she replied back, “Don’t touch me.”

He would remember this look, not just for the difference in the mother he once knew, but also for how he seemed to appear in her eyes. It was almost as if he was not her son, but rather a hideous creature that she had never known. It was different from the blank indifference towards a stranger. It was pure aversion. Hatred. Disgust.

She walked away quickly then, leaving Zixu by himself, in the silence.

Soon later, he would try to visit her, yet get turned away by the closed courtyard doors and maids informing him that she did not want to see anybody. He visited again, the next day, to get the same response. It was the same for the day after that. And the day after that. And the weeks after that.

His mother did not step out of her courtyard. Not to greet his father, or to check on her sons. The doors remained closed, even if Zixu visited daily, desperate to see if his mother was alright.

It went on like that, for over a month, until one day, the courtyard doors finally opened.

Zixu rushed in, heart thudding in his chest.

The mother that he saw was not the mother that he knew.

She was no longer that woman basked in sunlight, humming a light tune on her lips as she watered the flowers. She was no longer that woman wearing a soft smile, gently combing through Zixu’s hair.

She sat inside, in the shadows of her room. The room was a mess, books scattered everywhere. Her pale face was blank, devoid of any expression. She turned a page, hand trembling, then looked up upon hearing Zixu’s footsteps.

“You’re here,” she began, the corner of her lip twitching upwards before falling short. “Come, sit next to me.”

Zixu listened, sitting by her side. “What happened, Mother? How have you been?” he whispered.

His heart stopped. He could not forget the last time he saw her, the distorted gaze in her eyes. He prayed that she would not look the same way.

She didn’t. She still gazed at him oddly, yet it was different, almost detached. “I’ve been fine,” she replied, just as quietly, “but…”

When her voice trailed off, her gaze did too. Only then, all of a sudden, it snapped back to him.

“Your father’s been trying to kill me.”

“What—” He tensed up, drawing himself back upon hearing something so impossible.

His father wanted to kill his mother? How could that be?

“The books. They’ve been telling me,” she insisted. “Just look—”

She turned the book to the first page, which was scrawled with inked notes by the side. Zixu’s eyes scanned over the contents. It looked normal. It was a normal philosophy book.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” he asked, a growing sense of dread building up within him.

“Read it. Read it out loud. Don’t you see?” she pressed on. When he hesitated again, she pushed the book a little closer to him. “Go on.”

Still in disbelief, he began, “In regard to extraordinary calamities, they say that, when an old sovereign in his administration departed from the right way, Heaven reprimanded him by visiting him with calamities. Those calamities are m-manifold.”

He stumbled on the last word of a sentence, and the moment he did so, she gripped his wrist. Bewildered, with wide eyes, he looked up.

She said, her voice drawn to a sharp hush, “You cannot do that, do you understand? Mistakes. In this world, the smallest of mistakes will cost you your life. If you stumble when you speak, they’ll kill you. They’ll take you away, and they’ll kill you.”

“Who?” Zixu cried out, incapable of understanding. “Father?”

“No. No, no.” She shook her head madly. The strength of her grip tightened. His skin turned pale. All the while she shook her head, she began to cry, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “They’ll take you away. They’ll kill you. They’ll take you away from me. They’ll kill you.”

The volume of her voice steadily increased. She kept repeating those words. Her hands only tightened around his wrist, more and more and more and more until—

“You’re hurting me!” Zixu exclaimed.

The moment he said that, she let go.

He whipped his hand back, recoiling and looking at the skin around his wrist. It was already bruising. He wrapped his arms around himself, gathering himself together. Fear reflected in his eyes at his mother.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I never would’ve hurt you. You’re the only person I have.” Gazing straight into his eyes, she whispered a final phrase, “I’m the only person you have.”

There was a mix of emotions within him. He was confused. So confused. What had his mother become? Where did the one he knew go?

“You trust me, right?” she continued, beckoning him to come closer. “Everything I do is for your good. I would never do anything to hurt you. You trust me, right?”

He paused. Did he… trust her?

She put on a hesitant smile. It was weak, but it was close to a familiar expression worn on a familiar face. He could see hints of her old self again.

This was his mother. She was right. She was his mother that loved him with all of her heart. She was his mother that took him to the flower fields and the mother that always cared for him as much as she could.

She loved him. She trusted him. And he loved her back.

“Yes,” he slowly replied, his gaze slowly changing. “I trust you.”