At the village entrance, Yang Peili had a tobacco pipe tucked at his waist, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed toward the distant Xiaohong Building. Although separated by some distance, bursts of laughter occasionally drifted over faintly.
Because it was a banquet with guests coming and going, those who arrived early would eat their fill and head back. Upon seeing Yang Peili, their expressions took on a strange look momentarily, but they still greeted him with smiles. After leaving, though, they'd engage in various discussions.
"That monk who said Yang Baihe had a fortune-telling destiny back then—I bet he was wrong…"
"Not necessarily wrong. Maybe the monk was talking about Xinxin, but that old hag from the An Family forcibly pinned it on Yang Baihe instead…"
"You saying that… it could be true. All these years, they've been oppressing the eldest branch."
