Turning Chapter 1157

Yuder's gaze fell upon the elderly man resting in bed, lost in slumber.

Grandfather.

His hair was a stark white, like freshly fallen snow, and his hands, thin and gnarled, bore the unmistakable marks of age.

Once, he had appeared as colossal and unyielding as the mightiest tree; how had he become so frail?

With meticulous care, Yuder placed the basket he carried onto the floor, ensuring the slightest disturbance would not wake the sleeping elder, and then turned to depart discreetly.

A low voice, however, halted his steps from behind.

“You’ve arrived.”

Yuder turned his head. The old man, his eyelids barely lifting, offered a gentle smile and a beckoning gesture.

“My little pup. Come closer.”

After a moment's hesitation, Yuder approached. The elder reached out, taking his hand. Though weathered by time, the old man's hands were still significantly larger than Yuder’s. Without uttering a word, he tenderly patted the back of Yuder’s hand, then drew a deep breath before speaking.

“Did your excursion to the lower village conclude without issue?”

“Yes. It was nothing significant.”

“I had surmised as much. You possess the capability to manage. Nevertheless... I should have been present.”

“I am well. Kindly focus on resting.”

Only a few days prior, his grandfather had unexpectedly faltered. There had been no preceding cough, no fever, nor any discernible injury, yet he had been unable to rise from his bed. The physician from the adjacent village attributed it to the inevitable decline of old age, stating that neither cure nor medicine could assist, and only optimal nourishment could aid in regaining strength. The old man had not reacted with anger; instead, he had let out a hearty laugh.

“Your hands are in a sorry state. What activities have you been engaged in to inflict such damage?”

“I did not exert myself unduly.”

“A basket was absent when you departed; now it is present.”

Yuder paused briefly before offering a truthful response.

“I gathered some herbs.”

During his ascent back towards the dwelling, he had noticed herbs that typically did not manifest their blooms outside of their designated season. He reasoned that if they possessed the fortitude to defy the seasonal constraints, perhaps they could fortify his grandfather’s vitality. Consequently, he had unearthed them with his bare hands. Subsequently, considering it worthwhile to broaden his search, he found himself unintentionally filling an entire basket. The resulting state of his hands was merely an incidental consequence.

“It is owing to my condition, is it not.”

The elder clicked his tongue, as if divining the entirety of the situation without requiring explicit confirmation. Yuder offered a quiet, mitigating statement.

“It does not pain me. I am unharmed.”

“Nonetheless, refrain from such actions in the future.”

The elder bestowed a few more gentle pats upon his small hand and released a soft sigh.

“I have conveyed this to you previously. My departure may occur at any moment, thus I expect you not to be overly astonished…”

“...Nor excessively sorrowful.”

“Precisely.”

This was a recurring sentiment from his grandfather. He often spoke of his advanced age and the possibility of his imminent passing, advising Yuder not to be unduly surprised or grieve excessively when that time arrived.

He had reiterated it countless times: the cessation of life was an intrinsic aspect of existence.

The repetition had been so frequent that even the young Yuder had come to accept it.

Following his grandfather's collapse, Yuder apprehended that this moment might indeed be that time.

He understood the imperative to maintain composure, precisely as he had been instructed and prepared for.

He recognized his capacity to manage all affairs independently, even in the absence of his grandfather’s guidance.

Yet, despite this assurance...

“Even so, I implore you to sample the herbs. The Untarm, at the very least.”

“Untarm? You truly procured that during this season?”

This was precisely the reason for his gathering. His grandfather’s smile conveyed an unspoken understanding, as if he had already divined the intention without verbal confirmation.

“Indeed. I shall partake of it. Since my discerning young grandson procured it for me.”

Yuder promptly rose, cleansed and meticulously sliced the herbs, and presented them. While his grandfather consumed the herbs, Yuder’s gaze remained fixed upon him.

“Acrid. Intensely bitter.”

“I have also prepared honey-infused water.”

He offered a beverage sweetened with honey harvested in spring, prompting a chuckle from the old man.

“My word. You have truly attained maturity.”

A portion of him yearned to voice this acknowledgment, while another part still desired to assert otherwise. Yuder remained silent. Subsequently, the elder placed his empty cup aside and extended a hand to gently stroke Yuder’s hair.

“...Thank you.”

“...”

A comfortable quietude lingered as he continued to pat Yuder’s dark hair repeatedly. Then, abruptly, he spoke.

“Have you ever contemplated the reason why flora and blossoms unfurl at their designated periods?”

Yuder responded with a shake of his head.

“It is because they possess an innate awareness that premature or delayed blooming jeopardizes their survival. They instinctively comprehend that emergence at the opportune moment enhances their prospects for persistence. Even the most diminutive among them grasp this principle. Should they blossom outside of their natural cycle, they become vulnerable targets—a predisposition that might attract individuals like myself to consume them.”

He chuckled, patting his stomach lightly.

“I, too, indulged in excessive desire once, akin to those misplaced herbs. However, I now recognize the futility of such avarice. Therefore... whenever I perceive a resurgence of acquisitiveness, I endeavor to affirm that the present juncture is precisely appropriate. Regardless of the accompanying sorrow or regret... I accept it as the correct timing.”

This concept proved challenging. Yuder did not fully grasp its implications. Observing his grandson's contemplation, the old man, in his customary manner, modulated his pace and elaborated further—this time employing simpler terminology.

“Thus, refrain from succumbing to greed on my behalf, Yuder. Nor should you indulge it for your own sake.”

To prevent the introduction of anguish or suffering.

Two days subsequent to this exchange, his grandfather peacefully passed away in his sleep.

He left behind a hand-knitted bracelet resting beside his bed...

“...”

Yuder slowly opened his eyes, emerging from a dreamscape.

The familiar, yet strangely attenuated, ceiling of his childhood residence came into view.

The dream… wasn't that the scene just before Grandfather passed away?

He hadn’t recalled that day even once in all the years that followed. Time had blurred it into a hazy memory.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve returned home.

Most of the events concerning his grandfather had long since been buried, gathering dust. Yet, the final words his grandfather spoke—'Don’t be greedy'—were still as vivid as ever.

Back then, the words were remembered, but their true meaning remained elusive…

Now, after the dream, he felt he might finally grasp the reason behind those words.

It strangely felt appropriate to have such a dream on the very day he intended to visit the place his grandfather resided. Still, the feeling wasn't unpleasant.

Blinking, he turned his head—only to find the space beside him vacant.

He hadn’t registered it previously, having grown accustomed to sleeping alone, but now he clearly recalled someone having been there before he drifted off to sleep.

Kishiar.

Yuder sat up. He scanned his surroundings, but the modest dwelling was completely silent. There was no trace of anyone.

Could he have gone to clean himself already?

He opened the door, and the nascent sunlight streamed in, illuminating the brightening sky. Compared to the light in the capital or Peleta, the rays here were intense, causing him to instinctively narrow his eyes.

As his vision cleared, a figure appeared in the distance.

Kishiar, clad only in a simple shirt and trousers, stood motionless, observing the sunrise. It was nothing more than that. Yet, Yuder found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the silhouette.

Then, as if sensing Yuder's presence, Kishiar turned his head.

His face, bathed in the light, appeared strikingly pale, and a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“You are awake already?”

It felt as though time itself had only just begun to flow again. Yuder finally drew a breath and walked towards him.

“What were you doing?”

“A bit of light morning training. And I was preparing breakfast.”

“Pardon?”

“…And while I was at it, the sunrise was simply too magnificent—I ended up just watching it.”

Yuder blinked at his words, and Kishiar let out a soft chuckle.

“Who would have imagined that the sun rising above remote mountains could be so stunning? I felt almost as though I had become one with nature.”

It was an odd thing to say, yet he somehow appeared to be exactly as he described.

Yuder suppressed his impulse to comment and instead asked,

“What precisely do you mean by preparing breakfast?”

“Well, given that you treated me to such a splendid dinner yesterday, I thought I would endeavor to reciprocate. It's getting chilly—shall we head inside to finish it?”

They returned to the house. It was only then that Yuder noticed the array of ingredients surrounding the stove. However, unlike the roughly cut components from the previous day, these were neatly trimmed and arranged with an almost artistic flair.

“What is this…”

“Thanks to having spent time with someone like Shusiner, I’ve witnessed a great deal of cooking—even if I never tried my hand at it myself.”

Kishiar casually added the prepared items to the pan on the stove. His movements were unhurried, yet they possessed the distinct rhythm of someone recalling and mimicking an action they had observed countless times.

Sizzling. Stirring. A sprinkle of something from a cupboard. A smooth transfer onto a plate.

That was all it took. Yet, the resulting dish of grilled vegetables and eggs looked precisely like something one would be served in Peleta.

“This should be acceptable, don’t you think?”

Yuder gazed at the sight before him, his disbelief palpable.

“……”