Lin Xuanying basked in glory, and the elders regarded him as the future head of the family. The Third Elder proposed that they formally appoint an heir.
His mother stepped forward. “The position of family head belongs to my son!”
The Third Elder sneered. “Then let him come out and compete.”
Lin Yuan stood up and walked into the middle of the hall.
He looked at the gathered clansmen, at the Third Elder, who had scrutinized him for twelve years; at his mother below the stage, shocked and doubtful; and at Uncle Zhou in the corner, his eyes rimmed red.
He spoke.
His first complete sentence in twelve years:
“When I win, Third Uncle, please tell me: where did that letter from all those years ago go?”
The hall fell utterly silent.
In that instant, Lin Yuan knew:
His second cry had finally sounded.
