Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Morning.

There are birds chirping in the trees.

"Chirp chirp chirp, chirp chirp chirp."

The Jiang family had an unusually hearty breakfast together today.

Everyone had a bowl of congee made with millet and meat broth.

The aroma was mouthwatering.

Jiang Mianmian could smell how fragrant it was and felt like she could drink some too.

But after a small sip, it was still a bit harsh on her throat. There seemed to be some grain fragments in the millet, her mother's milk was still easier to drink.

Unusually, Jiang Changtian didn't go to work this morning either.

To be honest, this was the first time Jiang Mianmian had seen her father in broad daylight since coming into this world.

He would leave before dawn every day, and only come back when it was dark.

But the Jiang Changtian of today didn't look as good as yesterday's, it was as if he had aged ten years overnight.

On closer inspection, quite a lot of his hair had turned white.

But he didn't look bad per se, one could even say he had obtained a certain weathered and broken beauty.

But which family member would want that kind of beauty for their loved ones, it was better to be normal.

Jiang Mianmian thought, she had the Spring of Life, it would be fine.

She was even able to bring back her older brother from the brink of death.

And there was an unexpected pleasant surprise too.

She had been worried all this while that once the Spring water was used up it would be gone for good, and hence didn't dare to use it all up in one go.

But yesterday she had used all of it at one go, and found that today, the Spring seemed to have gotten a little richer in flow. Where previously it could only fill up a thin layer at the bottom of a bowl, about enough for one spoonful, now it looked like the level was slightly higher, at least two spoonfuls' worth.

But there was some side effect.

It seemed that her older brother who drank the water became especially clingy to her.

Lying in bed, he still wanted his older sister Jiang Yu to shift her wooden tub over so he could look at Jiang Mianmian.

"You're the patient yourself, why do you want to keep looking at me?"

Jiang Mianmian felt a little helpless.

But there was no way around it, it must be because she was too cute, adorable and well-behaved.

Lying in her wooden tub, Jiang Mianmian stretched her little legs towards her mouth, practicing her stretches.

At the same time she curiously peered out of the window.

The house was made of wood and stone.

Her brother's room window happened to be made of wood panels.

Ancient architecture was rather flexible, the craftsmanship looked advanced.

The wood panels were joined together, with a groove at the bottom that allowed the window to be slid open.

Pushing it open in the daytime allowed a view of the trees outside in the courtyard, a very nice window scene.

Curious to spot where the birds were but unable to see any, though she could still hear their chirping.

"Chirp chirp chirp, chirp chirp chirp."

It looked rather hideous.

Jiang Changtian said, "Feng'er, this might hurt a little, bite down on this."

He stuffed a piece of soft cork into his son's mouth.

Jiang Feng smiled weakly, "Father, I'm not afraid of pain, truly, not one bit."

He had endured that endless night, watching countless worms slowly gnaw at his body, watching himself become a skeleton, watching himself turn to dust. He was not afraid of pain, truly.

"Yes, my good son is not afraid of pain." Jiang Changtian patted his son on the shoulder.

But still stuffed the cork firmly into his mouth.

He then turned to his wife, "Luoxia, pass me the spear."

Qin Luoxia picked up the red hot spear. "Dear husband, let me do it, my hands are faster."

Jiang Changtian shook his head. "You're stronger, you hold Feng'er down."

Jiang Mianmian watched as Father tied up his long hair in a bun.

Heavens, a man with a bun was unexpectedly still so handsome. With all his features exposed, Father looked even more striking.

Then her eyes were covered by Sister.

She heard a muffled groan.

Struggling with all her might, she finally managed to peek out from between Sister's fingers to see the scene before her.

Father had actually pressed the red hot spear to Brother's wound!

Such an act was too cruel.

This was punishment given only to prisoners.

Yet she saw Father's hand did not tremble at all. This man who would cough at the slightest trigger, who walked in an unsteady flutter, now held a red hot spear firmly in hand, pressing it repeatedly to his own son's head. Qin Luoxia held down her son's convulsing body.

Jiang Feng said he felt no pain, yet still bit down hard on the cork, emitting muffled groans.

In his heart he truly did not feel pain, instead he felt joy, elation, pleasure. This kind of pain made him feel alive.

Only that his body would convulse uncontrollably.

Jiang Changtian was doing something utterly heartless, yet his expression was one of utmost concentration and fastidiousness, his hand completely steady.

To Jiang Mianmian, Father now looked like an extremely skilled surgeon, like a ruthless robotic surgery apparatus.

Because she observed that Father was not simply coarsely branding that wound with the red hot iron, but moving with great precision to treat every little bit of damaged tissue, striving to clean out all of the rotten flesh in that wound, yet not destroying any healthy flesh.

Initially Jiang Yu's eyes were squeezed shut as she covered her sister's eyes.

But upon hearing the muffled groans, she too could not help but open her eyes.

Witnessing Father's actions, tears flowed freely down her cheeks. This was all her fault, because Jiang Wan had given her clothes and shoes as gifts, and out of greed she had kept them, resulting in elder brother getting beaten.

Elder brother had nearly died because of it.

And now had to suffer such agony.

She herself would get scalded from bowls that were merely warm.

Yet her brother's flesh was being seared till fragrant. *sobs*

As the iron left the fire, it would gradually turn from red to black, yet the temperature remained extremely high.

Jiang Changtian's hand grew increasingly steady. Other than trembling slightly on the first press, his subsequent presses became more and more firm.

He no longer seemed like he was carrying out branding punishment on his own son's head, but was painting a picture.

Using the red hot iron, he drew line by line against the flesh, transforming that twisted rotten wound before him into a vivid, lifelike painting, just like a black mandala.