Exiled!? Ha! I have An Infinite Space-Chapter 53 -

They slowly walked along the path, and soon enough, they reached the cabins. Everyone at that moment was already awake and patiently waiting for them.

Grandmother Fu and Grandfather Fu had been woken up by Madame Fu’s endless tears as she panicked, praying that her children would all come back safely. Fu Fei was there to support their mother. Fu Teng and Fu Tong, who had ended up staying behind, had helped Master Fu outside.

Waking him to tell him such terrible news was the last thing any of them wanted to do, but they had no choice. Unlike Madame Fu, he held his emotions in well.

Grandfather Fu looked from his wife to his son, and a heavy guilt struck him at that moment. He walked slowly toward Master Fu, who at that point did not bother acknowledging his presence.

"Son... um... you have to calm down. I’m sure they will be fine. Fu Sheng will surely let nothing happen to Fu Li. She will absolutely come back safely." He looked at his son, who barely even glanced at him, and the guilt crushed him even more. He knew that he did not deserve any of the things that were happening to him.

Turning around, he faced Uncle Fu, who was with his wife, sitting down on a stool as they looked like they were being forced to stay outside.

"When can we go to bed now? I’m so tired and drained... They will eventually return. Why do we have to wait outside like this?" Aunt Fu whispered to her husband as a low yawn escaped her lips.

"Just wait for some time. Then I’ll feign a sudden headache. Mother will surely allow me to go rest. I’ll tell her you need to massage me before I can feel better. Then we will both escape... just hang on," he reassured his wife.

Uncle Fu rose slowly from the stool, rubbing his temples as if the dull ache had already begun to throb behind his eyes. He drew in a breath and walked toward Grandmother Fu, his steps measured, voice prepared.

"Mother, I’m not feeling well. My head is splitting. Perhaps I should lie down for a while—"

He did not finish.

"Stop right there."

Grandfather Fu’s voice was not loud at first, but it cut cleanly through the courtyard. The rain beyond the eaves seemed to fade under it.

Uncle Fu paused.

Grandfather Fu stepped forward, the cane in his hand striking once against the stone floor.

"At a time like this," he said, his voice tightening, "your brother’s children are still out there in the storm. And you are thinking about your sleep?"

Uncle Fu straightened. "Father, I only meant—"

"You meant to leave," Grandfather Fu said. "You meant to slip away and wait until it was over."

Aunt Fu shifted uneasily, her earlier yawn long forgotten.

Grandmother Fu frowned. "Why are you turning this into a spectacle? Everyone is already worried. Must you add to it?"

Her tone was sharp, edged with irritation more than concern.

Grandfather Fu turned toward her. For a brief moment, something wavered in his eyes, then steadied.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I must."

She stared at him.

"For years," he continued, "you have compared them. Measured them. Whispered which son was more capable, which one deserved more. You think words vanish after they are spoken? They don’t. They stay. They take root."

Grandmother Fu’s expression hardened. "You are exaggerating."

"Am I?" His voice rose now, not wild, but controlled in a way that made it heavier. "Look at this house. Look at how they stand on opposite sides of every matter. You call it personality. I call it division.. You are the reason our family seperated."

No one moved.

Uncle Fu lowered his eyes.

"You are their mother," Grandfather Fu said, more softly now. "You should have been the one to hold them together."

The words lingered between them.

Grandmother Fu opened her mouth to answer, but for once, nothing came out.

Grandfather Fu turned back to Uncle Fu.

"And you," he said. "Whatever grievance you carry, whatever dissatisfaction you hide behind polite smiles, tonight it has gone too far. A child was sent into the rain. Do not pretend your household’s constant needling had no part in it."

Uncle Fu’s jaw tightened. The instinct to argue flickered across his face, then faded.

Grandfather Fu did not look away. "Go. Speak to your brother."

Uncle Fu’s head lifted at once. "Why should I?" he said, the restraint in his voice thinning. "This isn’t my fault. None of this is my fault. They chose to run out into the storm. How does that become my responsibility?"

A murmur stirred among the servants before dying just as quickly.

He turned toward his mother. "Mother, you see this, don’t you? Father is placing everything on me. Say something."

Grandmother Fu instinctively stepped forward. "Enough, this has gone too far—"

"Don’t," Grandfather Fu cut in sharply.

His voice was firm now, leaving no space between the words.

She stared at him, stunned. "What do you mean, don’t? He is your son."

"And so is he," Grandfather Fu replied, glancing toward Master Fu, who still stood in silence near the steps.

The courtyard felt smaller somehow.

Grandfather Fu faced Uncle Fu fully. "You say it isn’t your fault. Fine. Then stand there and say that your constant resentment, your wife’s words, your refusal to yield even once, say that none of it fed tonight’s disaster."

Uncle Fu’s expression hardened. "You are exaggerating."

"No," Grandfather Fu said. "I have been silent for too long. That was my mistake."

He took a slow breath.

"If you do not walk over there and apologize to your brother," he said evenly, "then from this moment on, you will no longer call yourself my son."

The words landed heavily.

Even the rain seemed to falter.

Grandmother Fu gasped. "What are you saying? Have you lost your mind? How can you threaten to disown him over this?"

Grandfather Fu did not raise his voice again. That made it worse.

"I am not threatening," he said. "I am deciding."

She stared at him as though she did not recognize the man before her.

Master Fu’s eyes shifted briefly toward his wife and daughter. They exchanged a look but none of them spoke.

Uncle Fu let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "You would sever ties with your own blood? Over his household?"

"If that blood refuses to take responsibility," Grandfather Fu replied, "then what binds us?"

Silence pressed in from all sides.

From a corner of the courtyard, Fu Fong, still pale and weak from earlier, pushed himself up slightly despite the pain etched across his face.

"Grandfather," he called out hoarsely, "why are you doing this to my father? He didn’t force anyone into the rain—"

The sharp crack of a slap cut him off.

Grandfather Fu’s hand had already fallen.

Fu Fong’s head snapped to the side, the sound echoing against the stone walls. He nearly lost his balance.

"Do not speak when elders are talking," Grandfather Fu said, his voice cold in a way none of them had heard before. "And do not defend what you do not fully understand."

Shock rippled through the courtyard.

Grandmother Fu rushed toward her grandson. "Have you lost all sense?" she cried. "He is injured!"

But Grandfather Fu stood where he was, his hand still trembling faintly at his side.

"I am trying to prevent this family from rotting further," he said quietly. "If that makes me cruel tonight, then so be it."

"You good-for-nothing husband and father," Grandfather Fu said coldly, staring at Fu Fong. "You let your wife go out into the rain to gather firewood. What kind of man raised you to be like this? You are disgraceful."

Fu Fong’s cheek burned where the slap had landed. His jaw tightened, but he did not dare speak again.

Grandmother Fu pulled him protectively behind her. "Enough! He is already hurt. Why must you humiliate him further?"

Grandfather Fu ignored her.

His gaze shifted between Uncle Fu and Fu Feng, his disappointment unmasked.

"A wife is meant to be protected," he continued. "A family is meant to be guarded. Yet because of pride and petty resentment, you allowed matters to escalate until a young girl ran into a storm."

Uncle Fu’s face flushed with anger. "Do not twist this—"

"I am not twisting anything," Grandfather Fu cut in sharply. "Both of you will step outside. Now."

No one moved.

"You will kneel in the rain," he said, each word deliberate, "and you will apologize to your elder brother this instant."

Grandmother Fu stared at him in disbelief. "You would make your own son kneel in a storm?"

"If he does not learn today," Grandfather Fu replied, "then he will never learn."

Uncle Fu’s fists clenched at his sides. "This is unnecessary."

"Go," Grandfather Fu repeated.

The authority in his voice left no room for argument.

After a long, suffocating pause, Uncle Fu turned abruptly and stepped out from under the shelter of the eaves. The rain immediately soaked through his robes. Fu Fong hesitated only a second before following, wincing as the cold water struck his already weakened body.

They knelt.

Rain poured over them mercilessly, washing over pride and anger alike.

Grandmother Fu stood frozen beneath the shelter, her chest rising and falling unevenly. "You are too harsh," she said bitterly.

Grandfather Fu did not look at her. "Harshness now may prevent ruin later."

Inside the courtyard, no one spoke.

Master Fu remained still, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were heavy.

And under the relentless rain, Uncle Fu and his son knelt.. her mouths shut tight as though it had been glued together.