Clan Rise: Starting as a Grandfather Chapter 2 - 2 1 Children and Grandchildren Filling the
Previously on Clan Rise: Starting as a Grandfather...
Chapter 2: Chapter 1 Children and Grandchildren Filling the Hall_2 Chapter 2: Chapter 1 Children and Grandchildren Filling the Hall_2 Memories of home brought Yang Zhenshan's thoughts to his parents, who had divorced and remarried, each with their own kids, yet they treated him well, always providing alimony without fail and even saving up to purchase an apartment for him upon his college graduation.
He enjoyed a solitary life that was quite comfortable, though loneliness crept in at times, but generally, he relished the freedom.
Yet now, things had changed entirely...
Any more dwelling on it would only summon tears!
Daring not to ponder deeper, Yang Zhenshan rose to inspect his body.
Standing around 1.8 meters, he appeared somewhat slender, bearing a lengthy scar from his left shoulder down to his abdomen, inflicted during a battlefield mishap.
That conflict had almost claimed his life, and without his fortune, he wouldn't have made it back after his duty.
Though he survived, his physique endured significant harm.
It held up better in his youth, but with age advancing, his strength waned, particularly the persistent dull pain in his shoulder.
Frowning at the scar on his frame, Yang Zhenshan donned a blue cloth shirt and pants along with canvas shoes, then rubbed his face with vigor.
“I must confront this no matter what, I won’t allow the original self to falter; I am Yang Zhenshan, and Yang Zhenshan is me!”
The former owner avoided needless talk, much like Yang Zhenshan himself. In that way, they shared similarities.
Still, coming from the modern era, many of Yang Zhenshan’s customs diverged sharply from the original’s.
He could only draw on the original’s recollections, striving to uphold the same character.
Exiting the chamber, he found the whole household already gathered around two wooden tables in the hall.
The sight of all these relatives caused Yang Zhenshan’s steps to falter.
It was downright frightening!
The original’s spouse had indeed been fertile, birthing five offspring.
The first son, Yang Mingcheng, aged twenty, was robust and sturdy, having trained in some Martial Arts alongside the original, not exactly a Martial Artist but impressively powerful.
He wed at fifteen to the Wang lass from nearby Wang Family Village, and over five years, fathered two kids: a grandson barely past three and a granddaughter just exceeding a hundred days.
The second son, Yang Mingzhi, eighteen, took after his mother with a leaner build and height surpassing 1.7 meters, noticeably shorter than his older brother, and he stayed quiet, seldom speaking, wed at fifteen to the Li girl from Li Family Village, welcoming a son the previous year.
The third was a girl, Yang Yunyan, sixteen, freshly married for over a year.
The fourth, Yang Minghao, fourteen, served as an apprentice in the county’s blacksmith shop and remained away from home.
The little girl, Yang Yunxue, merely ten, inherited her mother’s beauty, with sparkling eyes and pearly teeth, the cherished jewel of the original’s wife, spoiled rotten from young.
A headache plagued Yang Zhenshan; previously, he had sufficed to feed himself alone without worry for others, but now, excluding the wedded daughter, the clan totaled ten mouths, the mere idea sending shivers down his scalp.
Furthermore, the family wasn’t affluent, possessing just twenty acres of farmland, and yields had declined lately, struggling to nourish everyone adequately.
“Dad!”
“Dad!”
“Grandpa!”
As Yang Zhenshan emerged, the entire clan hailed him.
…
Yang Zhenshan found himself at a loss for words, merely nodding before heading to the well beyond the hall to rinse his face.
Gazing at his image in the basin, Yang Zhenshan sensed tears welling up once more.
This doesn’t resemble thirty-eight at all!
Even claiming forty-eight would seem generous.
Sun-darkened skin, coarse texture, unkempt beard, graying sides.
I once possessed great handsomeness!
Yang Zhenshan compressed his lips, bound his lengthy hair, and began surveying the household courtyard.
This dwelling marked the original’s old residence, renovated at his wedding, initially comprising three tiled chambers, expanded with extra rooms as the offspring matured.
The central structure held three spaces: sleeping quarters, gathering hall, and cooking area, flanked by four rooms each, their entrances oriented toward the southeast and southwest yard corners, which included a shed sheltering a hefty yellow ox.
Regarding this family’s past, it hadn’t always been destitute. The original had seen combat, earning repute as a valiant figure among these ten or eight villages, and his bride hailed from the Lu clan, whose father-in-law was a Scholar, contributing a decent dowry upon marriage.
Nevertheless, with offspring multiplying, household outlays ballooned, dragging them into poverty.
Yet, the clan wasn’t utterly penniless; Yang Zhenshan recalled the pair’s stash of emergency funds.
Considering the silver in the cashbox, Yang Zhenshan experienced a touch of ease.
Sustaining so vast a household weighed heavily on him.
Possessing some funds bolstered his assurance somewhat.
As for abandoning this kin, he contemplated it momentarily before dismissing the notion.
Though impoverished, this home at least offered a base to root himself.
Departing the fold, survival in this realm remained uncertain for him.
From the predecessor’s memories, this world deviated from any known ancient dynasty, forming an entirely alien setting.
Under feudal rule and society, solitary existence would prove far tougher.
Thus, Yang Zhenshan deemed staying with the family wiser, at minimum providing a broad support network.
After all, a home brimming with offspring and descendants held its merits.
Once cleaned up, Yang Zhenshan reentered the main hall, claiming his predecessor’s position, eyeing the fare spread on the tables.
Two wooden surfaces merged, males within, females without, the repast featuring coarse grain gruel and corn flatbreads, accompanied by merely two sides: pickled greens and foraged veggie broth, utterly devoid of grease.
The eldest son’s wife, Ms. Wang, a rotund lady who evidently nibbled during meal prep, had cooked it all, accounting for her fullness.
The clan awaited hungrily, fixated on Yang Zhenshan, who maintained a grave expression and echoed his predecessor’s voice: “Eat!”
As patriarch, none dared commence without his command.
Feudal ways imposed strict protocols.
Reflecting, serving as grandfather carried advantages; sons toiled the fields, daughters-in-law managed domestic tasks, granting him unchallenged dominance.
The fare proved tough to endure, yet genuine hunger drove Yang Zhenshan to consume it regardless of its blandness.
Besides, meals occurred but twice daily; missing morning sustenance meant enduring until evening.
Forcing himself, Yang Zhenshan slurped a bowl of mixed grain porridge, quelling his stomach’s rumble, then found further eating impossible.
The gruel proved tolerable, but the corn cakes repelled him entirely.
Those cakes ground roughly, scraping his gullet on the way down, and even chased with veggie soup, the sensation lingered unpleasantly.
He nibbled the corn cake once before setting it aside.
“Grandpa, take my porridge!” The oldest grandson Yang Chengye noticed Yang Zhenshan’s single bowl and slid his over.
Yang Zhenshan regarded the boy with a mix of emotions in his eyes.
This three-year-old already displayed piety toward his grandfather—oh, how touching, how...
Begone, he’s no true kin of mine!
“Grandpa isn’t famished, Chengye, you eat it!” Yang Zhenshan extended a hand, patted his grandson’s head, and let out a gentle sigh.
Deep down, he harbored no desire for this grandson, but despite his inner resistance, faulting a mere child was unjust.
“Clear your plates then head to the fields; I’ll take some rest!”
Feeling burdened, Yang Zhenshan uttered those instructions and retreated to his chamber.
“What ails Father?” The second son Yang Mingzhi whispered, eyeing Yang Zhenshan’s departing figure.
Though Yang Zhenshan endeavored to mirror his predecessor’s ways, the children detected an unusual air about him this day.
“Perhaps he’s reminiscing about Mother!”
The first son Yang Mingcheng reflected on Yang Zhenshan’s earlier demeanor in the room and ventured.
At the reference to their mother, the household fell into collective longing.