Ch 28: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Mu Xing wasn’t wrong at all.

The Marquis of Cheng’en’s household could never, and indeed had never planned, to return Lu Jiaming—whom they had raised for eleven years—to the Mu family.

Leaving aside how the lords of the Marquis’s household had genuinely cherished this boy for over a decade, just the fact that Lu Jiaming was beloved by both the emperor and the imperial concubine, was on close terms with the Second Prince, and had already been chosen as the prince’s study companion, was more than enough for the Lu family to bury the truth.

How could the young master they had spent so much effort cultivating be sent back to a peasant household?

When the old madam learned the truth of the switch that year, she merely spent a night chanting scriptures, and the next morning acted as if nothing had happened, even calling Lu Jiaming to accompany her at breakfast.

From that alone, Chen Mama understood: the Marquis and Madam’s “true-born son” could only ever be Young Master Jiaming.

As for this little young master from the Mu family, the old madam would likely want to see him first before making any decision.

Chen Mama hesitated for a long while, not daring to decide, and only when the Marquis’s fourth master, Lu Yu, arrived the next day did she bring it up.

“These words truly came from the boy himself—the one my elder brother lost all those years ago?” Fourth Master Lu was rather astonished.

When she confirmed it, Fourth Master smiled. “It seems my nephew isn’t so simple after all.”

“As for the Mus wanting to see Jiaming,” he continued with a genial smile, “I’ll allow it. Parents wishing to see their own flesh and blood is both reasonable and proper—hardly something we can refuse.”

Chen Mama’s heart jolted. Looking at the ever-smiling face of this Fourth Master, she dared not protest, only lowered her head in assent.

---

At last, Mu Xing met a genuine master from the Marquis’s household.

His dream had been long, filled with shifting scenes, but the faces he clearly remembered were only a few. This Fourth Master Lu, he had never seen before.

The man looked to be in his thirties, refined and scholarly, with a neat beard—appearing easy to get along with.

Catching sight of Mu Xing’s appearance, the Fourth Master paused in surprise, then walked forward and studied him up and down before saying: “Chen Mama said you resemble our noble consort. At first I couldn’t believe it. With her beauty, few in the world could compare. But now, seeing you… the likeness is indeed striking.”

At this, his expression dimmed, and he sighed with feeling. “It’s a pity… you’ve suffered all these years.”

Looking at Mu Xing, his eyes filled with pity and affection. “Good child, I am your Fourth Uncle. I’ve come to bring you home.”

His manner was warm and intimate, with no trace of a nobleman’s arrogance—he seemed the very picture of a kindly elder.

Because of Chen Mama’s earlier behavior, the Mus had formed an extremely poor opinion of the Marquis’s household. Yet now, faced with this gentle demeanor, their expressions softened somewhat.

Mu Xing, however, only cast a glance at Chen Mama and kept silent.

At that moment, his silence spoke louder than words.

Fourth Master’s smile deepened. To meet his backer and at once push blame onto the servant who had wronged him—though a clumsy tactic, it still showed some cleverness.

Inwardly, he judged: a fine face, a touch of wit, but nothing remarkable.

Good. This new nephew would surely be acceptable to the family.

Turning to Chen Mama, he scolded, “I’ve already heard of your behavior. When you return, you will take your punishment.”

Chen Mama bent low, apologizing to Mu Xing. Only then did Fourth Master say, “See? Fourth Uncle has taught this vile servant a lesson for you. Are you satisfied?”

Mu Xing finally revealed a grateful smile, looking intimate and moved. “Thank you, Fourth Uncle.”

---

Fourth Master moved quickly. Knowing the Mu family wanted to accompany Mu Xing to the Marquis’s household, he ordered several more carriages prepared—everything was arranged down to the last detail.

But from start to finish, he never exchanged more than a few words with the Mus.

Clearly, in his eyes, these people held no value worth engaging.

Five days later, the party arrived at the capital.

---

In the Marquis of Cheng’en’s household.

The most favored young master, Lu Jiaming, had already been ill for several days.

When asked, he only said he felt unwell, too weak to rise from bed, no appetite. Even when the imperial physician came, he declared it was merely “excessive worry” and advised careful nursing.

But how could a child so young be consumed by such worries?

Madam Kang, the marchioness, knew the truth well. When she had discussed the matter of her child’s true identity with the Marquis, Lu Jiaming had overheard.

He had fainted on the spot, and since then had been bedridden.

“Mother… don’t abandon me. I’m not a bastard…” The boy’s face was pale, tossing in nightmare, muttering nonsense.

He was the child she had cherished in her palms for more than a decade—Madam Kang’s heart ached unbearably.

And so, the scales in her heart began to shift.

At first, when she heard that her true son had been switched at birth by that treacherous maid and raised by peasants who could barely feed themselves, her heart had been wracked with guilt and sorrow.

Especially upon hearing that her son had been sickly from birth—who knew how much suffering he had endured over the years?

She had longed to send people at once to bring him home, to summon the best physicians to treat him, to lavish him with all the care a Marquis’s heir deserved.

She had yearned to see him, to know if he resembled her.

But before any of that could happen, Jiaming had fallen ill.

The boy had overheard, unable to accept the truth, devastated and broken. In just a few days, he had wasted away.

Madam Kang was summoned by the old madam and harshly reprimanded.

The Marquis himself deliberated with her at length—yet the conclusion was firm: the Marquis’s true-born young son could only ever be Lu Jiaming.

Only a true son of the Marquis’s household could win both the emperor’s and the imperial consort’s favor, and be chosen as the Second Prince’s study companion—not some child raised in a peasant family.

Whenever Jiaming awoke, he clung to Madam Kang and wept. Sometimes he stubbornly asked if he had misheard, sometimes he gripped her sleeve, begging his mother not to abandon him. More often, he bit the quilt and silently shed tears.

When the Second Prince heard that Lu Jiaming was ill, he personally came to the Marquis’s residence several times. Madam Kang had to conceal the true reason—if the palace discovered anything, the consequences would be dire.

Exhausted and heartsore, she found herself, unbidden, resenting the child who had not even returned yet.

Why did he have to appear now?

Her life had been so smooth before.

Her eldest son was sensible, her daughter had married into a powerful family, and her youngest was clever and deeply loved by the old madam. Because of that, she herself held more face than her sisters-in-law.

Among the noble ladies of the capital, few enjoyed as comfortable a life as hers.

And now, suddenly, she was told that the obedient, endearing Jiaming was not her own child—that her real son was someone else.

The old madam was displeased, the Marquis was displeased, and even she herself… felt unsettled and unhappy.

It was as if a flawless porcelain vase had suddenly sprouted a crack.

And Jiaming—before that boy had even returned, Jiaming had already fallen so ill.

She could not help thinking: what if that boy wasn’t as well-behaved as Jiaming? What if he wasn’t clever, not endearing at all?

What if he was coarse and ignorant, without the slightest sense of propriety—

What then?

Amidst her tangled worries, word arrived that Fourth Master had returned.

Lu Yu settled the Mu family in a separate courtyard of the Marquis’s estate and personally brought Mu Xing to the main residence.

“I’ll have you change into proper clothes first,” Fourth Master said. “Then I’ll take you to meet your grandmother and your parents.”

---

In the Pine-Crane Hall of the old madam.

The old lady sat at the head seat, with the Marquis of Cheng’en, Lu Xun, and Madam Kang beside her.

“Kang-shi, do you remember what I told you earlier?” the old lady asked.

Madam Kang quickly rose. “This daughter-in-law remembers it all.”

“Good.” The old lady closed her eyes. “I have more than ten grandchildren. You have three children. Of them, the only one who has caught the Second Prince’s eye is Jiaming. You must understand which weighs more.”

“I understand,” Kang-shi replied.

The Marquis merely lowered his gaze to his teacup, as if the matter did not concern him.

“Old Madam, Fourth Master has returned,” a maidservant announced from outside.

The old lady opened her eyes, and both the Marquis and Madam Kang turned to look expectantly toward the door.

Fourth Master entered, leading a young boy dressed in bright sapphire robes, his face glowing with delight.

As they stepped in, he laughed aloud: “Mother, Eldest Brother, Sister-in-law—look what treasure I’ve brought back!”

The boy’s attire was splendid and eye-catching: luxurious robes, a golden coronet, and a jade belt cinched at the waist.

But none of the three masters of the Marquis’s household paid attention to his clothes.

The old lady’s gaze lit up, and she turned to Fourth Master. “This is…?”

She knew who it must be, yet still found it hard to believe.

Fourth Master chuckled. “You doubt your eyes, Mother? When I first met Xing’er, I too could hardly believe it. With such looks and bearing, who would think he’d been raised in some backwater?”

He smiled with pride. “It shows clearly: our Lu family’s bloodline—like a pearl, it cannot be hidden by dust.”

The old lady’s expression softened instantly, her tone full of affection. “Xing’er? Is that your name? Good child, I am your grandmother. Come, let Grandmother take a good look at you.”

Mu Xing feigned confusion and fear, glancing toward Fourth Master.

Fourth Master laughed. “Why look at me? Your grandmother is calling you.”

Mu Xing stepped forward, bowed his head, and said softly, “Greetings, Old Madam.”

“Good, good child.” The old lady hadn’t expected such a pleasant surprise.

The Marquis and Madam Kang were no less moved—the Marquis finally cracked a smile, while Madam Kang drew Mu Xing into her arms, tears spilling down her cheeks.

This wasn’t quite the script Mu Xing had expected.

He thought with some unease: if the Marquis’s household welcomed him so warmly, it would make his plans harder to carry out.

Fortunately, his “assist” arrived on cue.

He was still in Kang-shi’s embrace when a maidservant’s anxious cry sounded outside:

“Seventh Young Master, wait for this servant!”
“Seventh Young Master, please put on your clothes first…”

The arms holding Mu Xing stiffened.

A moment later, a disheveled boy burst into the hall.

He wore only his underclothes, barefoot, clearly having rushed straight from bed.

The boy ran in and threw himself toward the old lady, weeping: “Grandmother, I just dreamt that you didn’t want me anymore, that Mother didn’t want me either. You cast me out. I was starving and hurting, and people pointed at me, calling me a bastard…”

His words suddenly cut off.

Only then did he notice Mu Xing, still in Kang-shi’s arms. His face turned deathly pale.

“Who is he?” the boy demanded, pointing at Mu Xing as if at a specter.

“Mother, who is he? Are you really going to cast me out?” His voice cracked. He doubled over, coughing painfully, and with a wrenching spasm, spat up a mouthful of blood. His body crumpled to the floor.

Mu Xing felt a powerful shove—Kang-shi, in her panic, had flung him aside. He crashed heavily onto the ground.

He sat on the ground, watching the kindly old madam’s face turn anxious, watching the always-composed Marquis look stricken as he lifted the boy into his arms, watching Madam Kang’s face stream with tears as maids bustled back and forth.

Not a single glance was spared for the fallen Mu Xing. The tender façade from moments ago was torn to shreds with ease.

And yet, completely ignored, Mu Xing finally let out a slow breath—

At last, the script was back on track.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣