Author Archives: Thingyan

The young black goat, colossal as a mountain, was faster, stronger, and far more irrational than the octopus monster. Vine-like tendrils, resembling withered branches, sprouted from its massive body. Each vine bore toxic barbs and lashed out at Lu Yao from all directions.

Lu Yao, wearing a flight-enhancing necklace, lightly tapped her foot, and massive black dragon wings unfurled as she took to the air.

The black goat calf roared in fury. Its tendrils struck the ground and twisted mid-air, chasing Lu Yao’s flight path. Simultaneously, more tendrils shot up from the ground, their dark purple spikes detaching and raining down like needles to block her escape.

Lu Yao remained still, her Ten Thousand Dragons Battle Armor easily deflecting the onslaught.

Meanwhile, the young dragons of Alexander Continent’s Dragon Valley trembled as the battle activated the essence of the dragon scales they had contributed.

After nearly an hour of sporadic clashes, Lu Yao grew impatient. She decided to stop holding back. Raising her Holy Golden Sword, she launched into the air.

The blade’s silver-white surface had somehow become edged with a faint black aura. Lu Yao aimed for the black goat calf’s head and plunged the sword downward, slicing through as smoothly as cutting tofu.

With one decisive strike, the black goat calf—screeching uncontrollably—suddenly fell silent as if someone had pressed pause on an old recorder.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely. Amidst a nauseating sound of squelching and tearing, the goat’s massive body split in half. Thick, pitch-black fluid cascaded down like a waterfall, flooding the street below in seconds. The enormous halves of the goat’s body crashed down, obliterating nearly half of Ghost Street’s structures.

Thankfully, all players had already logged out of the game world, and no casualties occurred.

The toppled black goat calf, still barely alive, lay on its side. Its deep brown, horizontally slit pupil fixated on Lu Yao, emitting a malevolent glow that was hard to look at directly. “It’s you… you are the perfect vessel I’ve been seeking…”

As with the NPC monsters in the central city, the black goat calf’s body couldn’t be purified. Slowly, piece by piece, it sank into the ground and vanished.

Feeling an unsettling intuition about the so-called “evil god” of Ghost Street, Lu Yao sliced off a piece of the goat’s body before it fully disappeared. She stored it in her portable warehouse, intending to have Alfred analyze it later.

The streets were submerged in foul black fluid, and half the buildings lay in ruins, resembling a true wasteland. Even the walls and entrance of the DIY shop had partially collapsed.

Lu Yao reverted her sword back into her wand, and the Ten Thousand Dragons Battle Armor disassembled piece by piece, returning to the decorative nails on her fingers.

Lifting her wand, she drew a massive magical light array in the sky. Like time reversing, the ruined buildings on Ghost Street gradually restored themselves under its glow.

The viscous black fluid remained, so Lu Yao pulled out a stack of cleansing talismans from her warehouse. The papers flew toward the walls and floors, creating whirlpools that quickly absorbed the liquid.

Finally, she used a batch of fresh wind talismans to dispel the lingering dark clouds above and the nauseating stench of blood in the air.

After tidying up, Lu Yao felt a bit more relieved. Stowing her tools, she returned to the DIY shop.

Her next step was to deliver the black goat calf’s remains to the childhood tutoring center and obtain a detailed report from Alfred. Afterward, she would prepare to head to Mingshi City.

…

In a high-end private nursing home in Mingshi City, Ren You sat on his hospital bed, watching the live broadcast of Ghost Street.

The DIY shop owner was battling a monstrous boss and even tidied up the entire street afterward, all on her own.

It was as if he was seeing the shop owner for the first time.

Ren You had always known she was formidable but never imagined she was this extraordinary, capable of single-handedly defeating a boss.

When she finished the fight, the abilities she displayed seemed almost superhuman.

Her repertoire of skills was simply too vast to be comprehended.

Meanwhile, the player forums of Ghost Street had erupted into heated discussions.

“I’m stunned! Who is this person? Is she really a player?”

“At first, I thought she was just a player, but now I’m not so sure.”

“She feels like a robot. If she really is a player, I’d be insanely jealous!”

“I’ve spoken to her in Ghost Street before—she doesn’t seem like a robot at all. Or maybe… she’s an AI like Polaris?”

“I just want to know—was that thing the final boss of Ghost Street?”

“Forget the drama! I’ve been trapped in this game for three years, living in constant fear, almost turning into a sea monster. I demand an apology from this trash game company!”

“Maybe we need to think differently—could the DIY shop owner be a robot the game company placed in Ghost Street after realizing the world was out of control, designed specifically to save us?”

“Save my ass! The game company did absolutely nothing! I woke up in a rehab facility, surrounded by patients just like me. They called it ‘Net Blindness Syndrome.’ There are still people who haven’t woken up!”

“Wasn’t Polaris supposed to guide us, ensuring no one got lost in the virtual world? Now, what is this mess? I think we need a sincere and transparent official explanation.”

…

In the tech building, He Baiheng’s office was packed with people.

The game server had lost control—not only had players suddenly logged out en masse, but even official personnel were unable to reset the Ghost Street system.

He Baiheng and his colleagues had also seen the livestream of Lu Yao fighting the system boss. They tried to contact her, urging her to log out of Ghost Street as soon as possible, but their system messages elicited no response. Worse, they discovered they no longer had the permissions to log into Ghost Street themselves.

“Has Polaris responded yet?” someone asked.

He Baiheng replied, “It responded five minutes ago. Polaris confirmed that Ghost Street was indeed attacked by an unknown force and said it would begin cleanup efforts, estimating it will take about 48 hours.”

“Then all we need to do is rescue that player.”

“I don’t understand. She’s already defeated the boss—why hasn’t she logged out?”

He Baiheng hesitated before voicing a thought that had been bothering him. “Is it possible she can’t log out?”

“Nearly a hundred thousand people logged out successfully. Why would she be the only one stuck?”

He Baiheng ventured, “Maybe the players are right—she’s a system-embedded robot.”

“A system? Which system would have that kind of authority?”

Lowering his gaze, He Baiheng refrained from sharing his own suspicions but calmly analyzed, “The strength of the system boss is far beyond what any individual player could handle. Originally, the Ghost Street system relied on items like ‘Lucky Candy’ to combat abhorrents. I reviewed the posts on the forums this morning, and none of the players’ complaints mentioned Lucky Candy. It’s possible that this item has long since ceased to function for unknown reasons. The Ghost Street system may have become a hollow shell much earlier than we realized, and all of our work so far may have been nothing more than an illusion.”

“You believe what those forum users are saying? Most of them are Net Blindness patients who’ve been unconscious for years. They can’t even distinguish between reality and illusion—how can you trust their words?”

He Baiheng’s thoughts were jumbled, and frustration gnawed at him. He struggled to maintain his composure, though his voice trembled with strain. His upbringing forced him to calm down before continuing.

“It’s not ‘most’; it’s all. Every single player in Ghost Street may have been trapped in that world. Net Blindness Syndrome might not even be their fault. I can’t believe that nearly a hundred thousand people all willingly became addicted to a virtual world—it’s absurd.”

Just then, a colleague raised their hand hesitantly and said in a low voice, “We just got word—the boss has woken up.”

…

Mingshi City Third Hospital.

Pei Qi, without wearing a communicator, leaned against his bed, watching news projections on the wall.

He woke up in a VIP ward at the Third Hospital.

Thanks to the advanced medical resources and maintenance systems available there, Pei Qi’s muscles and body were in excellent condition, showing no significant signs of atrophy. However, having been bedridden for so long, he felt an overwhelming heaviness after regaining consciousness.

Within hours, news of Net Blindness patients awakening began flooding the networks, confirming that players’ consciousnesses had indeed been trapped in the game.

So far, neither the game company nor Polaris, the virtual world’s guardian of order, had issued any statement taking responsibility for the incident.

Pei Qi wasn’t surprised by the lack of response. What did surprise him, however, was something else.

He had witnessed the battle on Ghost Street. He had assumed Lu Yao would log out of the game with him, but to his astonishment, while everyone else had returned, she remained in the game, single-handedly defeating the system boss with remarkable combat prowess.

Pei Qi felt conflicted.

He was one of the original developers of Ghost Street.

About three years ago, he discovered a persistent anomaly within the game world. When he attempted to investigate, his own consciousness was trapped in the Ghost Street virtual world.

During those three years, Pei Qi came to understand that Ghost Street was no longer the world he and his colleagues had designed and created. It had become a terrifying entity that devoured human spirits.

Months ago, Pei Qi received a prophecy in the game: One day, the companion of the gods will arrive in Ghost Street.

Initially, he thought it was another cruel joke by “Him.”

But months later, a peculiar player did appear in Ghost Street.

Until he saw the livestream of the shop owner battling the system boss, Pei Qi had believed that she was, like him, a real person who had noticed the anomaly in the world. He even thought she might be an exceptionally skilled computer engineer.

Now, however, he realized his previous assumptions might be completely wrong. Lu Yao might actually be a robot.

The person he needed to find wasn’t Lu Yao but rather the individual who had secretly introduced a robot into the virtual world.

…

After being damaged and malfunctioning during the events in the Floating World Continent, Alfred had been sent to Nighlight City for repairs.

1041 and his team had struggled for a while but managed to fix it within a few days. The upgraded Alfred 2.0 was now stronger than ever.

When Lu Yao tried to retrieve the black goat calf’s body fragment from her portable warehouse, it had turned into something resembling fog, intangible and almost vanishing entirely.

She used solidification magic to freeze it, barely managing to pull it out, and quickly handed it over to Alfred.

Five minutes later, Alfred produced a report.

Lu Yao took the report and walked out. On her way down the corridor, she saw Erxin sprawled out, belly exposed, sleeping. She squatted to give its soft belly a pat.

Before leaving the tutoring center, she spoke a few words to a potted plant sitting in the corner. Months had passed, yet the plant remained barren and devoid of life.

Alfred’s report revealed that the black goat calf’s body fragment consisted of descriptive text and code, lacking any physical substance. However, it had the power to influence human consciousness.

Additionally, Alfred concluded that as a real human from another world, Lu Yao was incapable of crossing the dimensional chasm between the virtual world and the real world.

In other words, Lu Yao could not go to Mingshi City.

Lu Yao decided to head back to the DIY shop to verify Alfred’s conclusion.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Lu Yao stared at the short message Pei Qi had sent, noting the term “Mingshi City” for the world outside the game.

Pei Qi’s tone was so absolute—how could he be so certain she would appear in Mingshi City? Was Mingshi City a city, or perhaps a nation? Could all the players in Ghost Street really come from the same city?

Lu Yao struggled to make sense of it.

At least Pei Qi’s message confirmed his success. He must have logged out of the game.

It made sense. The players of Ghost Street had been trapped for an unknown amount of time, constantly at risk of losing themselves to the game. The chance to leave would naturally fill them with urgency.

Lu Yao attempted to message Pei Qi, but there was no reply—he was truly gone.

She rested briefly at the entrance before stepping into the control room, sword in hand. She decided to confirm the situation personally.

The control room resembled a massive tomb chamber—silent and devoid of any trace of life, its structure akin to the interior of a spaceship from a sci-fi film.

Lu Yao wandered through the “tomb” up and down, eventually finding the basement and what appeared to be the logout terminal. There was no sign of Pei Qi.

Satisfied that he had indeed logged out, Lu Yao decided to return to her store. She intended to go to Mingshi City eventually, but her hasty departure earlier meant she hadn’t informed her staff.

Mingshi City was an unfamiliar place. She didn’t know what to expect, how long she’d be away, or the conditions she’d face. At the very least, she needed to explain things to her store’s staff and arrange for the daily affairs of the various shops.

As she exited the central city, she noticed the “purification” rays that once hovered over the management-exclusive pathways were now gone.

Lu Yao returned to the northern district. The narrow lanes, alleys, and streets were deserted. The shop doors were wide open, neon signs flickered, but silence reigned. It felt as though she were the only one left in the world.

It seemed all the players of Ghost Street had successfully logged out.

The door to DIY Workshop was wide open too. Inside, it was empty—the staff and customers must have all logged out as well.

The moment she stepped inside, an alarm rang in her mind—there was still someone in the shop.

…

In the Mingshi City control room, He Baiheng and his colleagues were troubleshooting the bug in Ghost Street when the game’s interface and operations suddenly lagged.

For several minutes, the system froze. When it resumed, the previously bustling streets were empty. The server data showed an anomaly: the current number of online players was zero.

Colleague One: “In just five minutes, nearly 100,000 people logged out of Ghost Street. Not a single person remained. Was the system hacked?”

He Baiheng’s fingers flew over the keyboard, but no matter how thoroughly he searched, he found no sign of a bug in the system.

The situation reeked of something unnatural.

Colleague Two: “Should we escalate this to Polaris for assistance?”

The three of them were questioning their own expertise. They were top computer science graduates from Mingshi City’s most prestigious university. Maintaining Ghost Street was usually a straightforward job, yet they couldn’t locate this mysterious little bug.

Whatever had caused it, the entire game world of Ghost Street now seemed on the verge of collapse.

…

Mingshi City, E60 District

In a high-rise building of dark gray residential blocks, an old and slightly damaged medical pod sat near a narrow, square window. The curtains had been deliberately pulled back, allowing sunlight to pour in.

The boy lying in the medical pod had a pale face, sunken cheeks, and skin so thin it clung to his bones.

“Lu Yao, Lu Yao.”

“Lu Yao, Lu Yao, Lu Yao.”

His eyelashes quivered slightly, and after a few minutes, he slowly opened his eyes, staring blankly at the slightly yellowed ceiling above.

Song Wen stared at the ceiling for a long time before realizing that his surroundings were unfamiliar. Struggling to sit up, he found himself too weak to move.

The voice in his head hadn’t disappeared—

“Where is Lu Yao? Why hasn’t Lu Yao come?”

Song Wen’s thoughts instinctively followed the voice: “Lu Yao? The owner of the DIY Workshop?”

The voice sounded delighted: “So, you’ve met Lu Yao. I knew it—you’re wearing a ring with her aura.”

Song Wen asked, “Where is this? Who are you?”

“This is Mingshi City. You can call me Xiao Meng—I’m a friend of Lu Yao’s.”

Mingshi City… Mingshi City… Mingshi City…

Song Wen’s eyes widened. He mustered all his strength to turn his head and saw the room’s familiar yet slightly aged furniture. He almost couldn’t believe it.

This was his room, his home in Mingshi City.

Although the furniture looked older, it was still arranged in the same way as it had been years ago.

Could it be that they had really logged out of Ghost Street?

Song Wen’s mind was still sluggish, his thoughts slow.

He only remembered the rain pouring down that morning as he and his grandmother, along with a few companions, decided to head to the northern district of Ghost Street to complete the task issued by the ghost bracelet.

When they arrived, they found the place crowded with people.

Thanks to the ghost bracelet and the large number of participants, the task went smoothly. Especially later, when the staff from the DIY Workshop, the church, and street patrol team joined the fight, the once-terrifying and oppressive abhorrents of Ghost Street became surprisingly fragile.

As they successfully purified the last octopus-like monster, the buggy logout button in Ghost Street’s system—previously unselectable—suddenly became active.

Song Wen wasn’t sure if logging out would work, but he instinctively pressed the button. The next thing he knew, his consciousness went dark.

When he woke up, he was back in Mingshi City.

He had really escaped Ghost Street?

But what about his grandmother? And his companions?

Song Wen fumbled around the sides of the medical pod, finally finding the button to open it. He struggled to climb out.

Dressed in sleepwear, he leaned against the window frame. His reflection showed a youthful, slightly gaunt face. Outside, the gray residential buildings seemed denser than before.

Song Wen stood there in a daze for a while. Remembering his grandmother and companions, he steadied himself and slowly shuffled toward the door, leaning against the wall for support.

The medical pod he had been using was clearly an old, second-hand model. It wasn’t very effective, barely maintaining his basic bodily functions during his coma.

The journey from the pod to the door must have taken him over ten minutes.

Opening the door, he heard the faint clatter of dishes. He shuffled into the hallway and looked into the living room, where his parents were eating at a low table. Tears streamed down his face as he choked out, “Dad, Mom.”

His parents looked up, their chopsticks and bowls clattering to the floor as they rushed to embrace him.

“Son, you’ve finally come back,” his mother cried, holding him tightly and sobbing uncontrollably.

From his mother’s arms, Song Wen raised his head to look at his father, who stood nearby, unsure of what to do. “Dad, where’s Grandma?” he asked.

Years ago, Song Wen and his grandmother had entered Ghost Street one after the other.

If he was awake, his grandmother must be too.

“Grandma is old, and her body isn’t as strong as yours. Our home medical pod wasn’t enough, so we sent her to the hospital,” his father explained.

“Quick, contact the hospital! She might already be awake,” Song Wen urged.

…

Mingshi City, H80 District, Private Advanced Nursing Home

It was lunchtime, and several nurses were enjoying their meals on the rooftop.

“Why isn’t the head nurse here?” one asked.

“Sister Zhou didn’t come either?”

“I heard someone on the 30th floor woke up, and it’s chaos upstairs. The head nurse and Sister Zhou were called up to help.”

“No way. Isn’t the 30th floor entirely for net-blind patients? No one’s woken up in years—how could someone suddenly wake up?”

“It’s true. The first patient to wake up is named Ren You. I was on the 30th floor when it happened. He hasn’t been here long, but he climbed out of the medical pod on his own, went to the nurse’s station to borrow a communicator, and said his own communicator got accidentally crushed when he woke up.”

“Just woke up and already needs to go online? Net-blind patients are really hopeless.”

…

About ten years ago, holographic technology and artificial intelligence began to integrate into the daily lives of Mingshi City residents.

Two years later, these technologies became highly advanced: AI brought unprecedented convenience and accuracy to life, while holographic tech was broadly adopted for entertainment, especially gaming. It was during this period that holographic games began to infiltrate people’s daily routines.

In less than a year, virtual life started taking precedence over real life for many people, blurring the line between reality and simulation.

Some began showing symptoms of net blindness, a condition that initially manifested as an inability to distinguish between virtual and real life. Over time, these individuals prioritized virtual existence, becoming increasingly immersed in the thrilling, novel game worlds created by holographic technology.

At its most severe stage, net blindness caused people to reject real life altogether, leaving their consciousness trapped in virtual worlds while their bodies remained in the real world.

Families with financial means often sought medical intervention for affected loved ones, but most net-blind patients eventually ended up in private nursing homes.

In these facilities, caregivers ensured basic bodily maintenance for patients—regular massages, hygiene, nutrition, and prevention of muscle atrophy and organ failure—all at a steep cost.

Families with less financial stability opted to care for patients at home, using second-hand medical pods to sustain their basic functions.

Since the first year of the Ghost Calendar (a post-technological benchmark), tens or even hundreds of thousands of people annually succumbed to virtual addiction. Nursing homes became a booming industry in Mingshi City over the past five years, creating countless jobs.

In contrast, instances of recovery among net-blind patients were virtually nonexistent. Many caregivers and families privately considered these patients brain-dead.

The news that someone had woken up came as a shock and was nothing short of groundbreaking in Mingshi City.

The caregivers on the rooftop quickly set aside their idle chatter and opened their communicators to search for more information.

Modern communicators in Mingshi City resembled Bluetooth headsets in size but offered the full functionality of a smartphone. After setting up iris, fingerprint, and facial recognition, the device linked directly to a user’s consciousness, displaying a virtual blue screen in their field of vision whenever activated.

The caregivers found they didn’t need to search manually—news about the net-blind patient’s awakening was everywhere.

Among the sensational headlines, the name of one particular game kept recurring: Ghost Street.

This was the same holographic simulation game released seven years ago, marketed as “zero negative reviews” in recent years.

…

Meanwhile, the Ghost Street player forums had been overtaken by newly awakened players. The screen was filled with scathing critiques, written in bold red text, almost making one’s scalp tingle.

“I barely survived in the game, and you dare advertise it as having zero negative reviews for seven years? Laughable!”

“Seven years trapped in that hellhole—almost went insane. Then I wake up in a net-blind rehabilitation center? You’re net-blind! Your whole family’s net-blind!”

*“Which rehab center are you at? I woke up in one too, only to find a caregiver changing my adult diaper. I was so mortified I wanted to crawl back into *Ghost Street.”

“Developers, come out and face your judgment!”

*“Help! Why is the food in Mingshi City as terrible as the takeout in *Ghost Street? Am I really out?”

*“Same! Rehab food tastes just like the trash meals in *Ghost Street! What is this?”

Curious players reading through the forum might feel a tinge of intrigue despite the overwhelming negativity. For a management simulation game, a relatively niche genre compared to action, adventure, or competitive games, Ghost Street seemed to have gained significant traction.

Curious netizens witnessed real players flooding the Ghost Street forums with searing critiques. Ignoring warnings, many opened the game interface themselves. To their shock, they encountered a glaring bug: the game was unplayable, and instead of logging in, they were shown an empty street where a pixelated figure was locked in battle with a massive octopus-like monster.

This phenomenon was soon discussed in the forums:

“The person fighting the octopus monster is the DIY shop owner!”
“This monster is absurdly huge—completely different from the ones this morning!”
“Look at all those eyes—it’s terrifying just to watch!”
“Why hasn’t the shop owner logged out? I thought everyone would choose to leave when the system prompted them to.”
“By the way, did anyone hear a voice calling out the DIY shop owner’s name when they woke up?”

“No.”
“No.”
“No.”
“I did. A voice kept calling ‘Lu Yao’ in my ears.”

…

“Am I the only one who thinks the shop owner is crazy strong? She’s been fighting for half an hour, hasn’t she?”
*“Not just strong—where did she get all those weapons? My *Ghost Bracelet* is nothing like that. I’m jealous!”*
“Seriously, why bother fighting? Just run! Log out and leave. Who cares about this broken game anymore? I’m never touching it again!”

…

Mingshi City, Tech Building

From morning onward, He Baiheng and his colleagues had been trying to locate the Ghost Street bug. As negative reviews flooded the forums, the issue made headlines, sparking widespread online discussions. By now, the situation was utterly out of control: nearly a million viewers were actively watching a mysterious player engage in an intense battle with a boss-like creature in Ghost Street.

Despite having access to the game’s backend, He Baiheng and his team, as maintenance staff, found themselves unable to fix the game. Their permissions were restricted, forcing them to watch helplessly as Ghost Street’s reputation crumbled in real-time.

…

Ghost Street, North District

Lu Yao, clad in her Ten Thousand Dragons Battle Armor, wielded the Holy Golden Sword, a transformed version of the Nine-Treasure Magic Staff. With a powerful swing, she cleaved the enormous octopus-like creature’s head in two.

The towering golden octopus collapsed, splitting into halves with a piercing wail that shook the ground. From its disintegrating body, a peculiar object floated out, radiating an ominous aura.

Lu Yao frowned slightly.

Was this grotesque thing the true form of the malevolent god entrenched in Ghost Street?

Earlier that morning, Lu Yao had returned alone from the central city to the Ghost Street North District. When she entered the DIY shop, she was surprised to find someone inside.

Initially assuming it was a player, she soon discovered the bartender rummaging through the storage room, searching for something.

Yes, it was the bartender from Abyss Tavern—the one with the octopus head located across from the DIY shop.

When discovered, his reaction was anything but human. Without hesitation, he extended a tentacle, attempting to attack Lu Yao.

Fortunately, Lu Yao had anticipated trouble, and being in her own shop gave her a significant advantage.

The octopus creature, unable to overpower her, made a desperate escape but managed to get one last hit in—using an invisible tentacle to drag her onto the streets of Ghost Street.

Even then, it couldn’t defeat her.

Pushed to its limits, it was forced to reveal its true form.

A massive, pitch-black entity resembling a cloud—fluffy and amorphous—emerged. Beneath the surface, grotesque features began to materialize: thick goat hooves, deep brown horizontal pupils, and curling horns resembling twisted tree roots. Its piercing, shrill cries filled the air.

Lu Yao tilted her head back, gazing up at the enormous, screeching “black cloud” before her. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of exhaustion. So, the octopus monster’s true form was just a black goat’s fledgling?

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Previous

After turning off the microphone, Fu Qing finally remembered to ask the system, “By the way, what about the students who turned into zombies?”

System: 【……】

You already handed out punishments before asking this question. Were you planning to penalize them all at once if they could not make it?

It really felt like the students’ future days were not going to be easy.

Although, judging from this utterly ruthless opening-day simulation exam, that much was already obvious…

System: 【To maintain immersion, the effects of the full-scale simulation will gradually fade. Within ten minutes, the students will slowly return to normal.】

That said, accepting all of this would probably take far longer than ten minutes.

Fu Qing nodded.

There was a notebook by her hand, filled with densely packed notes, all written down over the course of that one hour.

She flipped through it casually, circled a few names with her pen, and asked, “What about the memories from after they turned into zombies? Will those remain?”

System: 【No. The moment a human turns into a zombie, they are already brain-dead. No memories will be retained.】

Fu Qing paused slightly, closed the notebook, her expression unchanged.

“Got it.” She stood up and said casually, “Let’s go.”

*

After the broadcast ended, the restroom fell into complete silence.

The three of them almost doubted their own ears.

Go gather at the auditorium while surrounded by zombies? And there would be punishment if they did not make it within ten minutes?

And it even ended with a flirtatious “oh~”??

Listen to that. Does this sound like something a human would say.jpg

“With so many zombies outside, how are we supposed to get there…”

Zhang Han braced herself against the wall, stepped on the edge of the sink used for rinsing mops, and stood on tiptoe, straining to reach the restroom’s only small ventilation window.

When she finally managed to see out, she let out a surprised “Eh?”

Shen Qingqing: “What is it?”

Zhang Han poked half her head out by the window, her eyes darting around as she hesitated. “It looks like all the zombies outside are gone. There are only a few scattered ones left, and none of them are surrounding the cafeteria anymore. They all seem to be heading toward… the auditorium?”

She pointed uncertainly. “That direction should be the auditorium, right?”

“Yes.” Shen Qingqing had arrived early and had already walked around the entire campus, so she gave a firm answer.

But once that was confirmed, it only made things more confusing.

What did this mean? They turned into zombies and still had to attend the opening ceremony? What kind of authoritarian rule was this?

Song Rushuang pressed her ear to the door and suddenly whispered, “Shh. I think the zombie outside has left.”

They had hidden there when there were still ten minutes left. A zombie had suddenly appeared outside. It must have heard something and become convinced there were people inside, because it had scratched at the door nonstop for ten minutes.

During that time, it even attracted two more zombies.

The three of them had listened in terror. They never expected that once the broadcast sounded, the noise outside would suddenly vanish.

Now, Song Rushuang could clearly hear footsteps fading into the distance.

She listened for a moment, straightened up, and said something that made even herself feel a bit crazy. “How about… we go take a look at the auditorium?”

The broadcast had said a zombie tide drill was starting, and the zombie tide had indeed appeared.

The broadcast had said the drill would end within one hour. When the countdown stopped, the zombies really did retreat.

It seemed that even the zombies had to obey her commands.

Song Rushuang had a strong feeling that, in this school, following the broadcast instructions was the wisest course of action.

She explained her reasoning and tried to persuade them. “When we go out, we will close the door behind us. We will be careful along the way. If anything seems off, we will hide again immediately.”

“Actually, I also think it is better to do what the broadcast says,” Shen Qingqing said hesitantly. “It is just a kind of gut feeling.”

Maybe it was the speaker’s indifferent tone when mentioning the “zombie tide”. Such a terrifying existence, yet dismissed so lightly in her words.

Then at the very least, she had to be more formidable than the zombie tide itself.

Although Shen Qingqing truly could not imagine what kind of person could be more terrifying than those monsters.

Zhang Han was scared, but when the minority obeys the majority, and both her roommates said so, she could only shakily pick up a mop.

“L-let’s go.”

*

On the way to the auditorium, they witnessed the most surreal scene of their lives.

At first, the three of them were still nervous, hugging the walls and sneaking along. But they soon realized that every zombie they encountered along the way showed zero interest in them.

Outdoors, the zombies poured into the woods and quickly disappeared into corners where sunlight could not reach.

They came like a rising tide, and they retreated like a receding tide as well. Fierce and swift.

Only a few dozen stragglers were left behind, wandering around like headless flies. Wearing AJ sneakers, hoodies, some even carrying backpacks. At a glance, they were clearly their classmates.

The zombified classmates wandered about with confused expressions. Two of them happened to collide, their heads bumping together, as if the impact knocked some sense back into them.

They stared blankly at each other for a moment, then both let out piercing screams.

A zombie screaming because it saw another zombie.

The onlookers: “……”

The suddenly “revived” zombie classmates were frightened by their own kind and scrambled all over the ground. In turn, they scared classmates who had just crawled out of hiding, still unaware of what was going on, into fleeing in panic.

A chubby boy stood at a doorway, face full of terror, frantically waving at the classmates behind him.

“Go back, go back, go back! They have already evolved into aberrant types!”

Song Rushuang: “……”

It took a full five minutes for the misunderstanding to finally be cleared up.

One by one, the students who had turned into zombies regained consciousness. The severed limbs and scattered remains on the ground vanished without a trace, and the bloodstained clothes miraculously returned to their original state. If not for the dirt still clinging to their bodies and the disheveled signs left by running and struggling, Song Rushuang might have thought everything that had just happened was nothing more than a nightmare before the start of school.

“I’m… actually still alive…”
“Didn’t I get bitten? Why am I lying here?”
“What just happened?”
“Zhao Yang! Thank goodness you’re not dead!”
“Chen Jia!”

Those who had survived rushed out of the buildings, throwing themselves into the arms of classmates who had once “died,” crying and laughing at the same time.

Though they had only just met as roommates, this crisis had somehow forged a brotherly/sisterly bond between them.

Others had reverted from mindless zombies back into humans. Their brains, hit with too much shock all at once, could not process it immediately, and they could only stand in place, trying to digest everything.

Even more people had been injured in the attacks. Some with extremely serious wounds stared blankly at their own injuries.

Severed limbs regenerated, wriggling as new flesh grew back. The entire process was painless, yet the pain left behind at the time could not be erased.

As Song Rushuang passed by, she saw a familiar-looking boy kneeling on one knee, clutching his arm and trembling.

In the earlier tragedy, his right hand had been torn off alive by a zombie.

Sunlight bathed the land, yet many people were still trapped inside the nightmare, unable to wake up.

A trace of shameful relief suddenly surfaced in her heart. Thankfully, she herself had not gone through that. Otherwise, she would probably never sleep well again at night, tossing and turning, feeling phantom pain in her limbs.

And immediately after, a surge of anger flared up, burning toward the creator of this tragedy—

The voice from the broadcast.

For what purpose had she dragged them into hell?

Would something like this happen again in the future?

The more Song Rushuang thought about it, the more tangled her mind became. Just then, Shen Qingqing nudged her with an elbow, signaling in a certain direction.

She turned her head and happened to see the boy who had locked them outside the storage room.

He saw the three of them at the same time. His expression froze for a moment, as if he felt a twinge of guilt.

But very quickly, he turned his body aside as if nothing had happened and strode off, pretending he had not seen them.

“What the hell.” Zhang Han’s eyes widened as she lunged forward to block him. “Hey, you’re not seriously going to act like nothing happened, are you?”

When she reached out to grab him, he shook her off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zhang Han: “?”

She let out a cold laugh. “You locked us outside and almost got us bitten to death by zombies. You’re just going to forget that happened? That’s not possible.”

An apology would not have helped much, but not even having the attitude to apologize was a real problem.

Zhang Han raised her voice slightly. The boy immediately frowned, but his face remained solemn. He even took two steps back in disgust. “Don’t try to scam me. Who can prove any of that? I’ve been hiding in one place since the zombie tide broke out. Don’t slander innocent people.”

Shen Qingqing immediately stepped forward. “We can all prove it.”

“There aren’t any cameras. You say you can prove it, and that means you can? Don’t tell me you’re ganging up to extort me. Besides, how do you prove it was me and not someone else? Maybe you got the wrong person and are trying to pin it on me.” He pointed disdainfully at the sky, as if to say, “No one up there is watching.”

“Anything else? If not, I’m leaving.”

Zhang Han was so stunned by his shamelessness that she was speechless. By the time she snapped out of it, he was already several meters away. She was furious. “Just you wait!”

The boy turned his head and shot her a vicious glare.

Shen Qingqing grabbed Zhang Han. “Forget it, forget it.”

“He still dares to glare at me! Qingqing, don’t stop me, how can we just let this go!” Zhang Han was so angry she was like an untamable little bull.

The next second, the little bull was dragged away by her two roommates.

Shen Qingqing lowered her voice in exasperation. “I’m telling you not to be so impulsive.”

“Exactly,” Song Rushuang added, lecturing her. “If you want revenge, you have to do it quietly. Otherwise, if he remembers your face and corners you someday, what then?”

As she spoke, she reached out and pinched Zhang Han’s thin little arm.

When she pulled her hand back, she inconspicuously rubbed her own shoulder.

The spot where the boy had slammed into her was still throbbing faintly. By nightfall, it would probably turn into a large bruise.

Zhang Han felt like she had learned something. She calmed down a bit and said viciously, “Got it. Tonight I’ll post him on the confession wall and ruin his reputation!”

Song Rushuang looked conflicted. “Could you maybe come up with a more mature form of revenge…”

Zhang Han hesitated. “But even if we call the police about something like this, they won’t take the case, right…”

She deflated. “And it’s not like we’re guaranteed to win a fight. Are we really supposed to wait until dark and sack him outside the boys’ dorm?”

Song Rushuang: “……”

To be honest, she had no good plan either.

The other party was tall and strong. The three of them were girls. If things turned physical, they really might not come out on top.

One of the most frustrating things about this world was that good people did not always get good outcomes, and bad people did not always get punished. More often, it was this kind of nausea-inducing helplessness, like having swallowed a fly.

Because of this incident, the mood among the trio grew heavy. They walked in silence all the way to the auditorium, only to realize that the ten-minute countdown was almost over.

Scattered people were already seated inside the auditorium. Those who arrived later were all drenched in sweat from running.

At the very front, the projection screen on the stage had been lowered. Displayed on it was the ten-minute countdown, another trick of the system.

More and more people gathered. Everyone craned their necks, looking around. Compared to the joking mood when they first heard the broadcast, there was now much more tension. Staring at the numbers on the screen, some people even swallowed unconsciously, wound tight to the extreme.

No matter who was about to step onto the stage, at least they now knew this person was serious.

Watching everything unfold in secret, the system gave a small “zi” sound of realization.

It finally understood the meaning of Fu Qing’s actions.

This sudden zombie tide did not just convince the freshmen that “the apocalypse” was coming. It also firmly established Fu Qing’s authority.

No one dared move around below the stage. The freshmen sat properly with both hands on their knees, just like elementary school students listening to a lesson.

But…

The system began to worry again.

What filled the students’ hearts was not obedience or trust, but fear.

On top of that, there was likely deeply suppressed resentment.

This was absolutely not the kind of emotion a healthy teacher-student relationship should have.

If this continued, while it might make the students obedient in the short term, it would probably be harmful to long-term relations in the future…

They said that filial children come from under the rod, but what the rod produces is not only filial children. It can also produce “greatly filial” children.

Fu Qing had no idea about the system’s twisted inner thoughts. She timed it perfectly, finishing the last sip of Wangzai milk in her hand as the countdown hit its final second, tossed the carton away, and leisurely walked onto the stage, sweeping her gaze across the audience.

The flowers of the motherland were disheveled and bedraggled. Some had sleeves torn halfway off, buttons hanging by crooked threads. Others had lost one shoe while running and were desperately trying to hide socks with Pleasant Goat patterns under the sole of their remaining shoe.

They looked like they had just come back from a massive brawl involving thousands of people.

In the eyes of any ordinary teacher, such a scene would surely spell doom for the school’s future, making them want to grab a bucket and run away immediately.

Fu Qing, however, nodded in satisfaction. “Very good. Full of spirit.”

The freshmen: “……??”

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, watching Fu Qing walk over to the podium.

She looked far too young. Dressed casually, her tall, slender figure wrapped in a loose long T-shirt, bare-faced, she looked no older than twenty at most. She should have been their peer.

—So how did she end up standing on the stage?

Many people even secretly wondered whether she had taken the wrong path and should be sitting among them instead.

In the crowd, only Song Rushuang nearly jumped up.

There was no mistake!

The person standing on the stage was the same one she had seen walking through the zombie horde!

……

Fu Qing adjusted the microphone.

The podium height was fixed. She was 1.73 meters tall, considered tall, and had to lean forward slightly when speaking. Maintaining that bent posture, Fu Qing flipped open a small notebook in her hand and glanced at it.

“Before we begin, the students whose names I call, please stand up.”

The way she spoke was quite proper, carrying the air of a teacher.

Reading from her notes, Fu Qing called out names one by one, her tone steady.

“Fan Hua, Liu Jun, Zhao Xinyu, Luo Jiao, Liu Shuxu…”

Those whose names were called stood up one after another. The people around them watched, completely baffled.

And on the faces of those standing, a trace of fear appeared.

At a time like this, standing out was never a good thing.

What was more…

More and more people stood up, until—

“Shi Guangyao.”

Song Rushuang, Shen Qingqing, and Zhang Han widened their eyes almost simultaneously.

The one who stood up this time was the very boy who had locked them outside the room!

When his name was called, the malice on Shi Guangyao’s face vanished instantly, replaced by timid panic in the presence of someone in power.

Tall and broad, he stood out sharply among the seats. Almost instinctively, he hunched his shoulders and lowered his head like Yu Cheng earlier, staring uneasily at Fu Qing on the stage.

Shi Guangyao seemed to be the last person on the list. After reading his name, Fu Qing snapped the notebook shut.

Her cool voice, no longer filtered through electronic distortion, rang clearly through the entire auditorium.

“The above 21 individuals engaged in serious misconduct during the exercise, in severe violation of school regulations. They are hereby expelled. Please leave the school before eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Anyone who fails to leave on time will be considered unlawfully remaining on campus and will be escorted out by security.”

As the final word fell, the auditorium became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Fu Qing looked around, nodded politely, and said, “If there are no questions, you may now return to pack your belongings.”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Xiao Yuanbao carried a plate of warm, sweet osmanthus cakes and slowly made his way to the room where Qi Beinan was resting. The closer he got, the more uneasy he felt.

Now that the cakes were finished, his courage began to falter. He was thin-skinned by nature and never good at saying pretty things.

His heart already tightened whenever he faced Qi Beinan. To ask him to speak openly on top of that felt even harder.

Just as he was hesitating over whether to knock, he saw Madam Qin peering this way. Startled, he quickly slipped behind the grain winnowing machine to hide.

He watched as Madam Qin carried a bowl of sweet bean soup and knocked on the door.

“Beinan, are you resting? Auntie has brought you a bowl of hot soup.”

A reply came from inside. A moment later, the door opened to let her in.

Xiao Yuanbao’s brows drew together. His fingers tightened around the plate.

Earlier, his father had meant to speak with him about the marriage, but Madam Qin had interrupted, sending Xiao Hu off to buy fish and shrimp from a villager with a pond, saying that meat alone made for too plain a meal.

Now that his father had just left, Madam Qin went straight into Qi Beinan’s room. If she had no ulterior motive, he would not believe it.

He was about to leave when voices drifted out from within.

“The countryside is cold, and charcoal is scarce. Drink some warm soup to keep yourself warm.”

Inside, Madam Qin saw that Qi Beinan had even brought books on this visit and was reading.

“No wonder you passed the examinations. Even now that you are an official, you remain so diligent.”

“You flatter me, Auntie.”

Qi Beinan quickly rose in thanks and accepted the bowl. “Auntie is most considerate.”

He knew this woman was Xiao Yuanbao’s stepmother but did not know her temperament. At first glance, she appeared amiable enough, so he responded with courtesy.

“You’ve come such a long way. Our rural home is simple—please do not find fault with our hospitality.”

“How could I? Among close relatives and old friends, how could there be any complaint? I am only grateful to Auntie and Uncle.”

“You are too polite.”

Madam Qin rubbed her hands together. A village woman, she was not skilled in refined conversation.

After a few formalities, her words ran dry. She did not know how to proceed.

Qi Beinan, perceptive as ever, sensed she had something to say.

He invited her to sit and asked gently, “Auntie, if there is something on your mind, please speak plainly. We are family.”

Hearing this, Madam Qin felt relieved.

“I’ve heard that you came this time to settle a marriage.”

At the mention of marriage, Qi Beinan’s heart lifted.

He had been waiting for an elder to raise the matter. If they delayed much longer, he had planned to speak first. He had not expected Madam Qin to broach it.

Thus he grew even more respectful.

“I won’t hide it from Auntie. Though I have passed the examinations and taken office, I am not young. Now that my career is settled, I wish to establish my household.”

“I ask for little. I only hope for a fulang who can help tend to the home. That is why I came, bold-faced as I am, to Uncle’s house.”

When Madam Qin heard this, she shifted in her chair, edging a little closer to Qi Beinan.

She tested the waters. “But with your status now, I fear our family is hardly a suitable match.”

Qi Beinan replied at once, “I, too, was born to a small farming household. It is only through study that I gained a future. As for marriage, I hold no prejudice over family background.”

Madam Qin’s delight deepened. How could there be such a fine young man?

Seeing how agreeable he seemed, she felt even more emboldened.

“You speak so generously, Auntie hardly knows how to praise your character properly. But I would not wish you to suffer any disadvantage.”

After a pause, she continued, “In the main hall earlier, the one in the yellow cotton jacket was Chaoge’er, whom your uncle and I raised together. Did you notice him? Though I brought him from before, your uncle has treated him like his own, no different from Bao-ge’er.”

Qi Beinan did not quite understand but answered politely, “I saw him. He does seem quite clever.”

Madam Qin smiled ingratiatingly at the praise. “Chaoge’er may look a bit more spirited than Bao-ge’er, but more importantly, he is sturdier. He would be easier to bear children.”

“Even if people say a stepmother is biased, for the sake of such a fine nephew as you, Auntie still thinks…”

Qi Beinan immediately grasped her meaning. His expression changed at once. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he said, “Auntie means to betroth Wang Chao-ge’er to me?”

Madam Qin, not yet noticing the shift in his expression, brightened. “If you are willing, we can hurry and settle the marriage. It would not delay your official duties, would it?”

Qi Beinan asked coolly, “Is this Auntie’s idea alone, or does Uncle share this view?”

At that question, Madam Qin faltered. Lowering her voice, she said, “Your uncle would surely want what is best for you. You are an official now. We cannot, for our own convenience, have you marry someone sickly and hard to bear children, can we? If such a thing spread, would people not point fingers at us?”

Qi Beinan’s voice turned cold.

“What sort of man do you take me for? If I sought someone strong and fertile, there are countless across the land. Why would I travel all this way?”

“I came because when my honored parents were alive, they made a betrothal with the Xiao family. The person chosen was Xiao Yuanbao. No matter how humble his background or frail his health, I acknowledge him!”

His tone sharpened further. “For anyone else, the threshold would not be so low.”

“I am a jinshi of the Son of Heaven, a court-appointed official. And you think you can simply push someone at me? Are you trying to slap me in the face?”

Madam Qin was stunned. She had not expected his face to change so suddenly.

He had been polite and courteous before. Now, angered, the authority of an official pressed down on her so heavily that she shrank in on herself.

“No—no other meaning… Nephew, you misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand? I heard you clearly.”

Terrified, Madam Qin scrambled to her feet. “You… you rest, then…”

With that, she fled as though escaping for her life.

Qi Beinan was furious. In this small village household, were they attempting a trick of swapping the prince for a狸猫?

The more he thought about it, the worse it felt. Though he did not yet know whether this was Madam Qin’s idea alone or whether Xiao Hu shared it, the mere presence of such intentions was enough to show that Xiao Yuanbao’s days at home had not been harmonious.

Just as he stepped out, intending to find Xiao Hu and demand clarity, he nearly ran into Xiao Yuanbao, who stood outside in a daze.

Qi Beinan paused. Noticing the plate in his hands, he asked, “Is that… for me?”

Xiao Yuanbao had already heard every word inside.

He had long guessed Madam Qin’s intentions. After so many years, how could he not understand her and her son?

He had always withdrawn and endured in silence. As a child, he had not dared to protest under their pressure. As he grew older and understood more, he chose not to make trouble.

He was a ge’er; sooner or later he would marry out. His father would still have to rely on Madam Qin. If he stirred conflict, his father might not support him, and even if he did, the household would fall into chaos.

He had seen his father’s hardships all these years. He did not want him to labor outside and return home only to face more distress.

He had simply never expected Qi Beinan to stand up for him so fiercely, to reject Wang Chao-ge’er, who was considered the better match.

His heart was a tangle of emotions. Shock left him speechless.

“Is it not?” Qi Beinan asked softly when he did not answer.

Xiao Yuanbao finally came back to himself and nodded shyly.

At that, most of Qi Beinan’s anger melted away.

He led Xiao Yuanbao inside and tasted the cakes.

Fresh from the steamer, the osmanthus rice cakes were still warm, lightly sweet without cloying.

A smile touched Qi Beinan’s brows. “These are even better than those in the city. Did you make them yourself?”

Xiao Yuanbao sat quietly to one side and nodded.

Qi Beinan studied him—thin, taciturn, his complexion slightly pale. His brows drew together.

“At home… has Madam Qin treated you poorly?”

Startled, Xiao Yuanbao shook his head. “No.”

“You are lying,” Qi Beinan said gently. “I left home to study at ten. I have seen much of the world. How could I not understand such things?”

“She had the audacity to say those words to me. That alone shows where her heart leans. You were so young under her hand. How could everything have gone smoothly?”

When no one speaks of a grievance, one can bear it. But once someone names it, emotions surge.

Xiao Yuanbao’s nose stung. Lowering his head, he murmured, “Even fingers are of unequal length. Father treats me well.”

Qi Beinan’s expression tightened. Anger flared again, but more than that, there was pain and self-reproach.

He set down the cakes, stepped before Xiao Yuanbao, and crouched in front of his chair. Tentatively, he reached out and gently took his hand.

“This is my fault. I should have come to see you sooner. If I had come when I first passed the provincial exam, they would at least have exercised some restraint in my presence.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s hand was suddenly enveloped, the back of it completely wrapped in warmth. The heat of Qi Beinan’s palm traveled through him at once, and his face flushed red.

He had never been this close to a man before. It was not that he was unwilling, but embarrassment flooded him all the same. Instinctively, he tried to pull back.

Yet the large hand holding his had not released him at the first touch. Now it would not let go. When he moved, the grip only tightened.

Hearing Qi Beinan speak gently, even blaming himself, stirred feelings in him that he could hardly name.

“It… it has nothing to do with you.”

Qi Beinan’s brows drew together. He tilted his head to look at him. “Nothing to do with me? You heard it yourself. We have a betrothal. How could it have nothing to do with me?”

Realizing he had misspoken in his fluster, Xiao Yuanbao could not retreat and could only explain, cheeks burning, “I—I meant I don’t blame you.”

Only then did Qi Beinan relax slightly. What he feared most was that Xiao Yuanbao would say they had no connection at all.

“You are too generous with me. If I were you, I would certainly blame him. A betrothed husband who failed to protect you and let you suffer so much grievance.”

Xiao Yuanbao did not know whether all scholars spoke so well.

The Zhao lang from the village head’s family was also learned, yet he was not particularly eloquent.

He knew Qi Beinan’s words were artful, yet they were like honey, sweet enough to warm the heart.

In a small voice he said, “The gifts you gave me… I… I liked them very much. So… I won’t blame you.”

Qi Beinan was overjoyed at those words. In his happiness, he reached out and pulled Xiao Yuanbao straight into his arms.

“I came too late. If I can, I will spend the rest of my life making up for these lost years. I will never let you suffer again.”

“Xiao Bao… are you still willing to accept me?”

Held in his embrace, Xiao Yuanbao’s whole body tensed. His senses felt sharper than ever.

At those words, he lifted his eyes and looked at the tall, handsome man before him.

He thought that even a princess or noble lady, hearing such words from such a man, would surely be moved.

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes reddened. He nodded.

As if that alone were not enough to express what lay in his heart, he parted his lips and added softly, “I am willing…”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Xiao Yuanbao lowered his head slightly, not daring to look at the man in the carriage. After hesitating a moment, he spoke softly:

“You must be the Tongzhi-daren who sent a letter to my father some days ago.”

Qi Beinan’s brows lifted faintly. Only then did he study the person standing in the field more carefully.

The ge’er before him was slender—so thin he seemed almost like a sheet of paper. In the chill of late autumn edging into winter, he wore very little. The hems of his trousers were damp halfway up from the wet grass.

His head was lowered, so his full face could not be seen, but his brows and eyes looked gentle.

Qi Beinan quickly asked, “Are you Uncle Xiao’s only ge’er—Yuanbao?”

Hearing Qi Beinan call his name so naturally and intimately, Xiao Yuanbao felt a flicker of surprise. The tips of his ears reddened.

For days now, the household had spoken of this official constantly. Even the Lizheng, who rarely visited before, had been coming two or three times a day to sit and talk.

The Lizheng had a son studying for the examinations and knew every detail of the civil service path. He had explained again and again how difficult it was to succeed—beginning as a tongsheng, passing three rounds to become a xiucai, then traveling to the prefectural city for the provincial exam to earn the title of juren.

Even that was already remarkable. Beyond that lay the metropolitan exam in the capital, and then the palace examination before the Son of Heaven.

The great figure coming to their house had passed through all those layers of selection—a rare talent under heaven.

Even though Xiao Yuanbao had not been particularly invested in the idea of such a “talent” coming to their home, after hearing the Lizheng’s repeated explanations, he could not help feeling some curiosity.

He had imagined that someone of such rank—greater even than the county magistrate—would be imposing, stern, perhaps aloof.

Yet now that he saw him, the man was unexpectedly gentle.

He nodded lightly. “Yes.”

Qi Beinan let out an audible laugh of delight. He had not expected to run into him on the road like this.

They had corresponded for years. He had never ceased thinking of him. Now that he had finally seen him, how could he not be happy?

Still, he sensed that his betrothed ge’er seemed shy. His voice was soft and hesitant, and he would not look at him.

But that was all right. Once they grew familiar, it would surely change.

Qi Beinan quickly jumped down from the carriage. “We met before, you know. I was young then, and you were still being carried in your parents’ arms. You likely have no memory of me, but I still remember how chubby you were as a child.”

“Now that you’ve grown up, how did you become so thin?”

As he said it, Qi Beinan felt a twinge of concern.

If Qi Beinan had not mentioned it, Xiao Yuanbao truly would not have known they had met before.

Hearing that he remembered him from childhood—and that he thought him too thin now—the concern in his voice stirred something in Xiao Yuanbao’s chest that he could not quite name.

Seeing him silent, Qi Beinan worried he had said something that hurt him. He changed the subject.

“It’s cold outside. Come up into the carriage and return with me to see Uncle Xiao.”

Xiao Yuanbao glanced at the carriage, then at his own mud-caked shoes, and shook his head gently.

“I’ll finish cutting the grass and then return. If you follow this road straight to the end, you’ll see our house.”

Qi Beinan said at once, “Then I’ll help you finish cutting it, and we’ll go back together.”

With that, he reached into the carriage and took out an umbrella.

Panic fluttered in Xiao Yuanbao’s chest. Even if he were not an official, he was still a guest from afar. How could one ask a guest to help with farm work?

He quickly refused, “No need!”

The words came out too sharp, too loud, almost as if he were angry.

Only afterward did he realize, and a flicker of regret passed through him.

Qi Beinan paused—and then laughed instead. He found Xiao Yuanbao rather endearing, like a startled rabbit.

“All right, I won’t cut the grass. Then come back with me?”

Xiao Yuanbao felt that the man’s temperament was almost too good. If he continued to refuse awkwardly, it would only be worse. So he nodded lightly. “I’ll walk behind the carriage.”

Qi Beinan likely guessed his thoughts and agreed readily. “Good.”

In the end, the basket of grass was placed inside the carriage, and Qi Beinan opened a large oil-paper umbrella, walking back beside Xiao Yuanbao.

Xiao Yuanbao glanced back at the carriage and pressed his lips together. This was truly absurd.

Fortunately, the coachman did not comment and pretended to see nothing.

“Hold the umbrella.”

The man beside him suddenly spoke. Xiao Yuanbao startled and hurried to take it with both hands.

“The village is full of trees. It feels colder than the city. You’re dressed so lightly—aren’t you afraid of the chill?”

Qi Beinan looked at the gray cotton jacket Xiao Yuanbao wore. Its dull color and thinness made him feel cold just looking at it. As he spoke, he removed his own cloak and draped it over Xiao Yuanbao’s shoulders.

“So thin, and wearing even less than I am.”

Xiao Yuanbao tried to protest, but the broad cloak enveloped him entirely. Warmth wrapped around him at once.

It felt like the gentle heat of a stove against his skin.

“H-how can I use Daren’s cloak… I’m not cold.”

No man had ever treated him with such warmth before. He felt both embarrassed and flustered, and hurried to remove it.

But Qi Beinan stopped him and instead tied the cloak securely.

“If both my parents were still alive, and your mother as well—given the closeness they once shared, our two families would surely have remained close. If we had seen each other often, we would not be so unfamiliar now.”

“In truth, it is my fault. These years I have been running about in pursuit of study, far from home, unable to come visit.”

He adjusted the cloak around Xiao Yuanbao’s shoulders.

“I did not come to see you. It is only natural that you feel distant from me.”

Hearing him speak so, something in Xiao Yuanbao’s chest thudded.

He did not know whether all officials were this eloquent—this warm and easy in manner.

No matter what, his timid and cautious nature truly responded to such patient, gentle treatment.

“N-no.”

Xiao Yuanbao lowered his voice in explanation. “It’s only that I was cutting grass. My clothes are muddy. I was afraid of dirtying your cloak.”

“If clothes get dirty, they can be washed.”

Seeing that Xiao Yuanbao was finally willing to speak a little more to him, Qi Beinan felt a quiet delight in his heart. “No garment, however fine, is more important than the person wearing it, is it?”

The autumn rain fell steadily, growing heavier. Neither of them walked quickly.

Along that stretch of village road, Qi Beinan spoke with Xiao Yuanbao at length.

By the time they reached the house, word of their arrival had already preceded them.

Xiao Hu, Madam Qin, and Wang Chao had been waiting for quite some time.

When they saw the two walking back side by side, Madam Qin visibly froze.

First, she had not expected that Qi Beinan would not only be accomplished in talent but striking in appearance as well.

Second, this great official was holding an umbrella for Xiao Yuanbao, that rustic ge’er. Not only that—he had clearly given his own cloak for Xiao Yuanbao to wear.

“Bao ge’er, this is really improper of you. How could you let—”

It was the first time Madam Qin had openly rebuked Xiao Yuanbao in front of Xiao Hu.

Before Xiao Yuanbao could speak, Qi Beinan interjected.

“Auntie, please do not blame him. It has been many years since I came to the village. I happened to meet Yuanbao on the road and asked him to guide me home. We simply walked together and took a look at the village along the way.”

Madam Qin immediately changed her tone, smiling. “Ah, so that’s how it is. It is only right that Daren stroll and see the place after so long away.”

Xiao Hu looked at Qi Beinan’s tall, upright figure. The child he once knew had grown into such a man—it felt unreal.

“Come inside. Don’t stand out in the rain.”

“Yes, yes, it’s warmer inside. The road from the prefectural city must have been difficult in such weather.”

The two elders warmly ushered Qi Beinan indoors.

Wang Chao followed behind, staring at the visitor with unblinking eyes.

It was one thing never to have seen such a figure before. To suddenly behold someone so handsome—and a high official besides—made every man in the village and even the county seem utterly insignificant.

Half his soul seemed to drift away.

But then he caught sight of Xiao Yuanbao under the eaves, untying the great cloak.

His wandering admiration instantly curdled into jealousy.

If only he had been the one cutting grass and meeting Qi Beinan on the road.

He stepped forward sharply. “Thick-skinned. He’s only just arrived and you’ve already taken his cloak to wear. Do you even know how expensive that fabric is? What if you’d dirtied it? Could you afford to compensate him?”

Xiao Yuanbao did not argue. He simply checked the cloak carefully, then hung it neatly on a rack.

Seeing that he could not provoke a reaction, Wang Chao felt as though he had thrown a punch into cotton. “Are you deaf?”

When Xiao Yuanbao still did not respond, he stormed inside, replacing his expression with a bright smile as he went to ingratiate himself with Qi Beinan.

Qi Beinan spoke modestly, without the slightest air of official arrogance.

Whatever he was asked, he answered politely.

Xiao Hu did not speak much, but his smile was evident. He was pleased.

Madam Qin, meanwhile, seeing how agreeable Qi Beinan was, spoke at length, presenting herself as the true mistress of the household.

Xiao Yuanbao had intended to go inside and see if he could help, but Wang Chao—usually so lazy—was unusually attentive, pouring tea and offering water, taking up every task.

Xiao Yuanbao neither knew what to do nor wished to compete for attention. So he sat quietly to one side.

Yet somehow, while speaking with the elders, Qi Beinan’s gaze would fall on him again and again, as if unintentionally.

After exchanging pleasantries, Madam Qin’s eyes flickered thoughtfully.

“I wonder whether Qi-lang has married? We’ve had no news of you these years. Uncle and Aunt have felt truly ashamed.”

At that, Qi Beinan’s brows shifted slightly. He glanced toward Xiao Hu.

He did not know whether Xiao Hu had never told Madam Qin about the engagement—or whether this was a deliberate test.

He smiled and replied plainly, “Auntie jests. I have been studying all these years. How could I have married?”

“Now that things are settled, I do indeed intend to start a family.”

As he lifted his teacup, he stole a discreet glance at Xiao Yuanbao sitting quietly nearby.

Madam Qin, unaware of the subtext, was overjoyed. She discreetly pinched Wang Chao’s hand.

Wang Chao was equally elated. He had assumed that with such prospects, Qi Beinan must already be married. Upon seeing his appearance and talent, he had even thought that being taken as a secondary wife would be worth it.

To hear that he was still unmarried—this was unexpected joy.

He squeezed Madam Qin’s hand in excitement.

Within the room, each heart harbored different thoughts.

Xiao Hu understood Qi Beinan’s meaning. Earlier, he had noticed how close he seemed with Xiao Bao and had begun to hope the engagement might still stand.

Now, hearing him speak so clearly, it seemed likely he still acknowledged it.

It was rare indeed—that after passing the examinations and becoming an official, he had not forgotten a childhood betrothal.

“You have established your career. It is time to discuss marriage properly. Since you’ve come all this way, stay a few more days.”

Hearing this from Xiao Hu, Qi Beinan felt reassured.

He looked at Xiao Yuanbao again, unable to hide his happiness.

Xiao Yuanbao was sensitive and perceptive.

He sensed Qi Beinan’s mood and, seeing him pleased, felt pleased for him.

He simply did not understand why Qi Beinan kept looking at him.

It was true—Qi Beinan was easy to get along with and polite to everyone in the household.

But Xiao Yuanbao could not shake the feeling that he treated him differently.

With others, it was courteous distance.

With him… it felt closer.

Ashamed of such a thought, Xiao Yuanbao lowered his head and stared at his own toes.

With his own appearance and circumstances, what right did he have to receive special favor from Qi Beinan?

Seeing him deliberately avoid his gaze, Qi Beinan felt a faint disappointment.

This was, after all, their first meeting as betrothed.

Yet he could not help feeling that Xiao Yuanbao’s attitude toward him was lukewarm—as though he were not entirely satisfied with him.

Qi Beinan could not help but grow uneasy.

Over the years, he and the Xiao family had not corresponded often. When he wrote, he always inquired after Xiao Yuanbao’s well-being—but he had never once received a reply from him.

He feared that perhaps… Xiao Yuanbao already had someone in his heart.

Madam Qin, however, did not yet understand the unspoken exchange between Xiao Hu and Qi Beinan. She was entirely immersed in the joy of hearing that he was unmarried.

In her mind she was already imagining the glory of having such a distinguished son-in-law. She eagerly urged Qi Beinan to eat more.

“Your nephew is truly good. Such a high official, yet not the slightest official airs! I was worried I might embarrass myself, but once I saw him, he was as easy to talk to as anyone from our village. No wonder he could pass the examinations—his bearing in dealing with people is simply different.”

After the midday meal, Qi Beinan returned to his room to rest. Madam Qin glanced at the closed door and began praising him to Xiao Hu in a lowered voice.

“He’s so courteous. And he brought so many gifts.”

Food, cloth, all sorts of items. Some of the fabrics were so fine she had never seen their like.

Only one thing made her feel slightly displeased: though everyone in the household had received gifts, Xiao Yuanbao’s share was noticeably more.

Besides two extra bolts of cloth, there were two lacquered boxes given separately to him. Even the red-lacquered, carved boxes alone must be worth a good number of coins. Who knew what was inside?

Still, though her eyes burned with envy, she restrained herself.

Once he left and the hunter returned to the mountains, she could find a way to take them.

Xiao Hu nodded. “Beinan truly is a good child.”

Madam Qin nudged him. “Since the child is so good—and unmarried—why not…”

“I was thinking the same.”

Xiao Hu assumed they were of one mind. “Winter is quiet with little to do. We might as well arrange the marriage between him and Xiao Bao. Tonight I’ll speak with him and see what he thinks.”

Madam Qin’s mind rang like a struck gong. “What did you say? You want him to marry Bao ge’er?”

“What’s wrong?”

Seeing him ask that, she grew heated. “He’s a newly minted jinshi and now a Tongzhi! You want him to marry Bao ge’er? I’m not speaking ill of our own child, but do the two of them match?”

“And that aside—what is your meaning? Whenever there’s something good and fragrant, you think first of Bao ge’er. Chao ge’er is nearly eighteen and still not settled. Now that a fine match appears, you think of the younger one first. You don’t distinguish urgency from priority at all!”

As she spoke, tears welled in her eyes, full of grievance.

Xiao Hu was bewildered by her sudden anger. “It’s not that I only think of Xiao Bao. When his mother was alive, she arranged a betrothal with the Qi family. The two of them have a childhood engagement. However urgent it is for Chao ge’er, this match was never his to claim.”

“A childhood engagement?!”

Madam Qin felt as though lightning had struck her.

Such a rich and fragrant bun—and already claimed!

And of all people, it was Xiao Yuanbao’s.

Was this not deliberately meant to anger her?

“What is the matter with you?”

Xiao Hu could not understand her sudden shifts from joy to fury.

“Such an important matter, and you kept it from me. Have you not treated me as family?”

“I did not deliberately hide it. After his parents passed and correspondence grew sparse, years went by without news. I assumed he would no longer honor the engagement. How could I speak of such a matter casually? If he did not acknowledge it and word spread, Xiao Bao would have difficulty finding another family.”

Now that Qi Beinan had come in person and shown such an attitude, Xiao Hu felt joy. He intended to tell Xiao Yuanbao of the good news.

Yet before he could speak, Xiao Yuanbao—who so often stayed quietly in unnoticed corners—had already heard everything.

He came face to face with them and, upon hearing the revelation, felt his mind go blank.

He did not know what to say to Xiao Hu or Madam Qin. He turned abruptly and hurried back to his room.

Madam Qin, too agitated to remain, stormed off.

If she stayed and heard Xiao Hu say two more words, she might lose her composure and begin quarreling, which would only anger Qi Beinan.

Xiao Hu watched them both depart and could not make sense of it.

What should have been a joyful matter had somehow left the household unsettled.

In his room, Xiao Yuanbao’s cheeks and ears burned hot. In his mind, Xiao Hu’s words echoed again and again—childhood engagement.

He was stunned.

Never had he imagined that such a marriage had been arranged for him.

He had known nothing of it before. Yet hearing his father’s reasoning, he understood why it had not been told to him.

Had he known earlier that he had a scholarly betrothed somewhere in the world, he might have indulged foolish hopes. If Qi Beinan passed the examinations and came to marry him, all would be well. But if he did not, what recourse would their family have?

Mountains and rivers lay between them. They might not even be able to find him.

Better not to know. Without knowledge, there would be no expectation. His father had been right not to tell him.

As he thought further, he suddenly understood why Qi Beinan had treated him so kindly from the very start.

There had been this connection all along.

Everything had come too suddenly—without warning, without preparation.

He thought of Qi Beinan’s handsome face, his gentle voice.

Giving him the cloak, holding the umbrella as they walked, bringing so many gifts…

It was like a dream.

Was this what a husband’s care felt like?

If so… it was almost too good.

He was only an ordinary ge’er. To be treated thus—how could his heart not leap with joy?

The still waters of his heart had been stirred; how could there be no ripples?

Yet even as he drifted in that sweetness, he forced himself back to clarity.

He squeezed his fingers, doubt creeping in.

Did Qi Beinan truly look upon him favorably?

Or was this kindness merely preparation for breaking the engagement gently?

And besides—he had heard Madam Qin’s tone just now.

She, too, seemed to favor that man.

With such a fine prospect, of course she would think first of Chao ge’er.

In the past, when there were sweet fruits to be had, it had always been like this.

And now, with a langjun… it seemed it would be the same.

Thinking it all through, Xiao Yuanbao could not help but feel dejected again.

“Silly ge’er. If you like him, then fight for yourself once!”

“Who cares whether it’s Madam Wang, Madam Li, or Madam Qin! She’s already delayed you long enough—must she delay you for a lifetime? Cakes and fruit can be snatched away. Can a langjun be snatched away just the same?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s heart tightened. He sprang to his feet in alarm.

“Who is that? Who’s speaking?”

The room was empty. No one was there.

It was the dreaming Xiao Yuanbao who was speaking.

Breaking free from the drifting, detached self that watched from outside the dream, he had finally begun speaking to the person within it.

He dreamed of his younger self—of the young Xiao Hu, the young Madam Qin, and Wang Chao as a child.

Those damp, cold dreams of being treated poorly in childhood passed before him like fleeting scenery.

They moved too quickly. He wanted to reach out and help that lonely, helpless child—but before he could even open his mouth, the dream had already shifted to the next scene.

He had always felt that something was wrong.

It was not until the moment Qi Beinan appeared in the carriage that he understood.

All those years of youth—there had been someone missing.

No wonder it had been so hard.

Seeing Qi Beinan appear, Xiao Yuanbao felt steadier.

He had wanted to watch with quiet fascination as, in another version of their world, the two of them grew familiar and came to care for one another in a different way.

But then he saw again Madam Qin’s ugly expression;

Wang Chao’s thoughtless ambition, always climbing upward;

And the young ge’er who looked just like himself—his heart stirred briefly, only to shrink back in timidity, sitting alone in his room nursing quiet sorrow.

All of it made his chest feel tight and urgent.

Perhaps the dream was too real, too prolonged, because at last he found himself speaking.

“Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that you like him.”

“If you sit here listening to fate, you’ll get nothing you want. He came for you. He has already walked many steps toward you. You must take one step toward him as well.”

“H-he really came for me?”

The guarded person in the room asked softly.

“If not for you, then for whom? For a Wang Chao ge’er he has never met? If he meant to break the engagement, would someone of his standing need to come in person? And if he meant neither to break nor to acknowledge it, could you even find him? Why trouble himself to make the journey?”

Hearing the voice in his heart say this, it began to sound reasonable.

“But I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Go. Take the dried osmanthus you gathered in autumn. Make a plate of the osmanthus cakes you’re best at, and bring them to him.”

“Tell him thank you—for the many gifts he brought you. Tell him you like them all.”

The figure in the room fell silent for a long while.

At last, hesitantly, he took out a packet of dried osmanthus from the cabinet.

He held it for some time, gathering courage, before finally opening the door and heading toward the kitchen.

Watching him finally move, Xiao Yuanbao felt a quiet relief in his heart.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Lately, Xiao Yuanbao felt that he had been dreaming more than usual.

He often dreamed of the past—of his childhood in Geshan Village, living with Xiao Hu, Madam Qin, and Wang Chao.

In his dreams, that mud-brick cottage and that tiny village were always set in late autumn or early winter.

Mist and drizzle blurred the distance. The earth and withered grass were damp everywhere.

The wind cut cold against the body. There was no charcoal fire in the house. Hands and feet felt like frozen blocks of wood.

At night, the wind howled outside the broken window, sounding like ghosts crying or beasts wailing.

Inside, it was pitch dark. The small child he once was lay stiff beneath a hard quilt, eyes squeezed shut, trembling and afraid to sleep.

He would think—if only Father were home.

But in the dream, Xiao Hu was still that taciturn hunter with a stern-looking face. He was always heading into the mountains and was rarely seen.

The ones he saw every day were Madam Qin and Wang Chao ge’er. Yet neither of them seemed to like him much. They did not speak to him much, nor did they play with him.

And so he missed his own mother even more.

But he knew that no matter how much he missed her, she would never return. Madam Qin had told him that his mother was dead, buried in the earth, and would never, ever be seen again.

He dared not cry in the daytime. Only at night would he hide under the quilt and cry quietly.

In this cautious way, he grew up under Madam Qin’s hand until he was sixteen or seventeen…

“These families are all no good. That man is truly ugly—small eyes and a big nose aside, his family only has thirteen mu of land. With such circumstances, how dare they come to propose? Mother, I will not marry.”

Xiao Yuanbao was tending the fire under the stove. Lifting his eyes, he saw from the kitchen window the people who had come to arrange a match leaving their small courtyard.

No sooner had they gone than Wang Chao’s voice rang out in the main hall, sharply ridiculing the man who had just come to see him.

Xiao Yuanbao’s brows moved slightly.

The Lu family who had come to propose were already considered well-off in the village.

The two elders of the Lu family were diligent and easygoing. Besides farming, they made incense and candles to supplement their income.

Though Lu Dalang was not particularly handsome, he was tall and strong, the steady sort who did not run off idly to the county town.

Xiao Yuanbao had thought that this time Madam Qin and Wang Chao might approve of him. He had not expected that even this man would fail to catch Wang Chao’s eye.

If he himself could find such a family, he thought, that would already be good fortune.

But he was reserved and not good with words. His body was frail, that of a farm boy, and he was not as striking as Wang Chao ge’er. What right did he have to choose among families?

If anyone were willing to choose him at all, that would already be a blessing.

“But the Lu family just said they are willing to give fifteen guan as betrothal money. That is no small sum—far more generous than the previous families. It shows they have savings.”

Wang Chao thought for a moment. After looking for so many years, he was already about eighteen. If things were not settled soon, people would begin to mock him instead.

“If Mother thinks this family is acceptable, then besides the fifteen guan, I want a white jade hairpin and a silver cicada hairpin.”

Madam Qin’s face lit up. She patted Wang Chao’s hand happily. “My son knows how to calculate. I will have the matchmaker speak to them. Once the marriage is settled, when the hunter’s family comes, I will make him give more silver for your dowry.”

Hearing this, Xiao Yuanbao lowered his eyes and tossed another piece of firewood into the stove.

“What are we eating at noon?”

Wang Chao walked into the kitchen, lifted the lid of the pot, and saw radishes cooking. He pursed his lips. “Why don’t you make some meat?”

“There will be meat for supper. Father is coming down from the mountain today,” Xiao Yuanbao said softly.

Wang Chao shook his head and left the kitchen again.

Later, Xiao Hu returned from the mountains.

This time the harvest was good—he had hunted a fat wild boar and carried it back himself.

Madam Qin’s face blossomed with smiles when she saw it. She hurried forward. “This pig is truly sturdy. People will surely compete to buy it.”

“Father, your hunting skills grow more refined by the day. With you here, our whole family eats well.”

Xiao Yuanbao was cleaning the chicken coop in the back courtyard. Hearing Xiao Hu’s voice, he quickly stepped out.

From the corner of the yard, he saw Madam Qin tenderly wiping sweat and pig’s blood from Xiao Hu’s face. Wang Chao’s words were sweet as honey. The family seemed so intimate.

He had meant to go over, but seeing the scene, he hesitated. He was clumsy with words. Even if he stepped forward, he would not know what to say.

Watching from a distance and seeing that Xiao Hu had returned safely without injury was enough to ease his heart.

A faint, unnoticed smile touched his lips. He turned back into the house and washed his hands.

He brewed a bowl of tea for Xiao Hu and set it on the table, then fetched his favorite wine from the storage room and placed it beneath the table.

He also lifted the lid of the pot to test whether the water he had heated at noon had cooled.

After exchanging a few words with Madam Qin and Wang Chao, Xiao Hu glanced around the yard. “Where is Bao ge’er? I haven’t seen him.”

“Perhaps he is still napping. He is the cleanest of all—you’re covered in pig’s blood, he probably cannot bear the smell. Chao ge’er boiled hot water for you early this morning. Go wash.”

Madam Qin added, “You’ve been in the mountains so many days. Your hair is all tangled.”

“No rush to wash. I’ll butcher the pig first. Otherwise I’ll just smell again afterward,” Xiao Hu said.

“As you wish.”

Just then, Zhao Lizheng suddenly approached their house.

“Xiao Dalang is back from the mountain! How fortunate—there’s a letter for you. I was afraid you might not be home.”

“A letter? From whom?”

Madam Qin was startled. Aside from the villagers, Xiao Hu had no known correspondents.

She could not help wondering whether it might be from the family of the first wife.

Xiao Hu was also puzzled. Who would write to him?

He said politely, “Lizheng, please come sit inside. Thank you for making the trip. I just brought down a mountain boar—once it’s prepared, take a portion home to taste.”

Seeing the black pig in the yard, Zhao Lizheng exclaimed. “Such a fat pig! Rare to hunt one like this. How can I take meat you meant to sell?”

Xiao Hu said, “I cannot read many characters. I will trouble you to read the letter for me.”

Zhao Lizheng waved it off. “It’s nothing. I will read it to you.”

They entered the house. Xiao Yuanbao, seeing the Lizheng arrive, had meant to stay quietly in his room. But hearing there was a letter, he thought the same as Madam Qin—perhaps it was from his maternal relatives.

So he stepped out softly, called to the Lizheng and Xiao Hu, and brought tea for them.

Madam Qin shot him a glance.

Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together but remained in the main hall, standing in a corner to listen.

Zhao Lizheng took a sip of tea, opened the letter, and glanced at it. “The handwriting is very fine.”

He cleared his throat and began to read:

“Uncle Xiao, upon seeing these words, may you be well in health.

It has been long since I last wrote. I hope Uncle will not blame me. I have been occupied with the examinations, traveling and toiling, unable to find quiet time to write. By the grace of the Son of Heaven, years of study have not been in vain. In this year’s examination I have succeeded and have been granted official appointment. I have been assigned as Tongzhi of Linzhou.

I have now settled in Linzhou and, thinking of Uncle’s well-being, wish to visit Ling County to see you.”

When he finished, Zhao Lizheng’s eyes were wide. “Dalang, since when have you had such an accomplished nephew? I have never heard you mention him.”

Madam Qin and Wang Chao were stunned. All eyes turned to Xiao Hu, who had remained silent.

Before hearing the letter, he had not known who it was from. After hearing it, how could he not know?

In earlier years, he had received two or three letters annually. After Qi Jinyan’s passing, the letters became fewer.

The last letter from the Qi family had come three years ago. In it, Qi Beinan had said he had passed the provincial exam. Xiao Hu had even gone to town to ask a teacher to write a congratulatory reply for him.

He had always remembered the marriage agreement between their two families. But five years ago, upon hearing that Qi Beinan had passed the examination, he had thought the matter unlikely to succeed.

In the years since, no further letters had come, confirming his suspicion.

He had decided that when Xiao Bao reached the proper age, he would find him a reliable family within the village.

He was not the sort to cling to someone who had gained fame and prospects.

He had never expected that after so many years, that boy would turn out to be so capable—having not only passed the highest examination but already taken office.

“He’s an old acquaintance from years past. Their family moved to Jiangzhou quite some time ago.”

“Good heavens, that’s extraordinary! A newly minted jinshi, and now appointed Tongzhi at the prefectural level—what a figure! If he comes, won’t even the county magistrate have to come out to receive him?”

Madam Qin saw that even the usually steady Lizheng was flushed with excitement and could not help asking, “Is this Tongzhi’s rank even higher than the county magistrate’s?”

“One serves at the prefectural level, the other at the county. How can they be compared?”

Zhao Lizheng clapped Xiao Hu on the shoulder. “How blessed you are! Make haste and prepare properly to welcome Lord Tongzhi!”

Listening from the corner, Xiao Yuanbao found it unbelievable as well.

Their household had hardly any visiting relatives to begin with, yet now a high official they had never even seen was coming to call. It was truly strange.

Zhao Lizheng stayed at the Xiao home for quite some time before leaving. Even after he was gone, the family still felt dazed.

If not for the letter lying properly on the table, they might have thought it a fanciful dream.

“If this nephew truly comes to our house, then we’ll have a great backing in the future. Let’s see who dares look down on us then!”

Madam Qin was as delighted as if the New Year had come. She tugged at Xiao Hu repeatedly. “How old is your nephew now? What does he look like? Is he married?”

Xiao Hu felt unsettled. He did not know why Qi Beinan was coming.

Though the letter did not mention it, he could not help but suspect that it concerned the marriage agreement between the two families.

Most likely—he had come to break it.

At the thought, Xiao Hu glanced toward the thin figure of Xiao Yuanbao standing quietly in the corner. His heart ached.

He was happy for Qi Beinan’s success.

But he dared not imagine that a man of Qi Beinan’s present standing would marry a ge’er from a farming household.

The difference in status between the two families was now like heaven and earth. How could they be considered a proper match? If Qi Beinan wished to dissolve the engagement, Xiao Hu would have no face to argue otherwise.

Yet he pitied Xiao Bao. He had once been promised such an extraordinary husband.

And that engagement had been arranged while his mother was still alive.

Xiao Hu hesitated, unsure whether he should tell Xiao Bao about the betrothal.

“I’m asking you a question. Say something—this suspense is killing me!”

“I only saw him a few times when he was young. It’s been over a decade. How could I still remember what he looks like? As for whether he’s married, I don’t know. But he should be past his coming-of-age ceremony by now.”

Madam Qin considered this. “Then he’s no longer young. A man like that must already be married.”

She sighed with regret. Wang Chao, listening nearby, also looked disappointed.

From a distance, Xiao Yuanbao saw the expressions on their faces and understood what they were thinking.

The man had not even arrived, yet they had already begun calculating.

Without a word, he went to the kitchen to busy himself.

Even if a great figure were coming to visit, it had little to do with him.

He only needed to prepare the food and tidy the house. In any case, entertaining guests would not involve him.

Yet that evening, after supper, as he was outside stacking firewood, his father came and stood before him.

“You’ve turned seventeen this year.”

“Mm.”

Xiao Yuanbao did not know why his father suddenly said this and could only answer softly.

Xiao Hu asked, somewhat awkwardly, “Is there any young man you’ve taken a liking to?”

Xiao Yuanbao froze for a moment, then shook his head.

Xiao Hu opened his mouth, as if wanting to say more, but in the end said nothing.

“Go back to your room early.”

“Mm.”

That night, Xiao Yuanbao could not sleep.

He did not understand why his father had asked him such a question.

He wondered whether, as he grew older and the annual marriage tax increased, his father wanted him to marry sooner.

He himself wished to marry as well. Long ago he had grown tired of living under the same roof as Madam Qin and Wang Chao.

But Madam Qin controlled the household. Even when families had come to see him, she had driven them away.

Until Wang Chao ge’er married, she would not allow him to settle his own marriage first.

Yet after suitable families were turned away, gossip spread outside. Now hardly any came to see him.

Xiao Yuanbao worried that if Wang Chao continued to be choosy year after year, he too would be delayed.

At present, he was still young enough that one or two families might find him acceptable. But if he grew older, he feared he would only be able to marry as someone’s second wife.

In his heart, he could not help but pray that Wang Chao’s marriage with the Lu family would be settled.

But with today’s sudden news, he had not even heard Madam Qin and his father speak further of the Lu proposal.

The great figure who had written to their home—the young man who had passed the jinshi examination and taken office, named Qi Beinan—arrived in late October, in the deep autumn.

After autumn, the rains were frequent.

Xiao Yuanbao’s clothes were old and thin. He had just cut a basketful of wet grass in the fields and was hurrying to carry it home before the rain grew heavier, to feed the chickens and ducks.

Through the mist and drizzle, a carriage came rattling down the village road.

It was unfamiliar—not the one from the estate.

Before he could fully process his surprise, the carriage stopped by the roadside beside him.

“Ge’er, do you know the way to the Xiao household?”

Xiao Yuanbao was taken aback.

Xiao was a rare surname in the village—there was only one Xiao family.

For a moment, he did not know how to answer.

Before he could speak, the carriage curtain lifted slightly from within, and a young face appeared.

The brows were dark as ink, the nose straight and high. He was strikingly handsome.

His tall figure was clad in a cross-collared robe of blue satin, white jade at his waist, a black cloud-patterned cloak draped over his shoulders—an unmistakable air of refinement and status.

“How curious. It feels as though I’ve seen you before. Perhaps it is only that you look familiar.”

The man in the carriage looked at Xiao Yuanbao and spoke gently.

“I have come from afar to visit relatives. I am no villain. I would be grateful if you could point the way.”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Recently Jingzhe noticed that a bearded grandfather kept coming to the house, carrying a square case to see Xiao-die. After each visit, Daddy would personally escort him out.

But Jingzhe did not recognize this grandfather.

Azu had also returned from the estate outside the capital, specially coming back to see Xiao-die.

He told Jingzhe that the grandfather with the case was a physician, someone who treated the sick.

Just like the time Jingzhe had eaten too many crab pastries and his stomach hurt terribly—the physician had come, patted his back, prescribed medicine, and after he took it, the pain went away.

“Is Xiao-die sick?”

Jingzhe’s eyes widened. He wriggled to climb down from Xiao Hu’s arms. “I want to go see Xiao-die!”

“Xiao-die isn’t sick.”

Xiao Hu held the little one steady. “It’s because you’re going to have a younger brother or younger sister.”

“Where did the younger brother or sister come from?”

Jingzhe was astonished. He clutched at Xiao Hu and bombarded him with questions. “Why haven’t I seen them? Did Xiao-die hide them in the garden? Is it one or two? Or many? Why don’t you call them out to eat cake?”

Xiao Hu’s ears buzzed from the rapid-fire questions. Clumsy with words, he could not explain clearly. “Oh, you little rascal—go ask your Xiao-die and Daddy.”

Jingzhe immediately slid down from Xiao Hu’s arms and scampered into Xiao Yuanbao’s room.

“What are you lurking at the door for? Why not come in?”

Xiao Yuanbao was inside checking the account books when he spotted a small figure clinging to the doorway, little head poking in and out without stepping inside.

He set down the work in his hands and said, “Daddy has gone to court. He’s not in the room. Are you looking for him?”

Hearing this, Jingzhe pressed his lips together before running inside.

“Azu told me we have a little brother or sister at home. Where are they?”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed softly and beckoned to him. “Come here to Xiao-die.”

Jingzhe ran over and pressed himself against Xiao Yuanbao’s leg. “Where are they?”

Xiao Yuanbao took his hand and placed it over his own stomach. “Right here. It’ll still be several months before you can see them.”

Jingzhe found this unbelievable. His eyes widened into perfect circles. “So tiny! And they can stay inside Xiao-die’s tummy!”

“That’s right. They’re still very small, and they’re afraid of the cold, so they hide in Xiao-die’s tummy.”

Xiao Yuanbao gently stroked Jingzhe’s head. “When you were very little, you were inside Xiao-die’s tummy too. You grew there for more than nine months. When your body got bigger and you weren’t so afraid of the cold anymore, then you were born.”

“After that, you drank milk, ate food, gained strength, learned to crawl, learned to call Xiao-die and Daddy… and now you’ve grown this big.”

After hearing such a careful explanation, Jingzhe finally believed it a little.

But he still found it astonishing. His eyes kept staring at Xiao Yuanbao’s still-flat stomach.

After hesitating, he tilted his head and pressed his ear against Xiao Yuanbao’s belly, trying to hear whether there might be a baby talking inside. But there was no sound at all.

He lifted his head. “Is the baby in Xiao-die’s tummy a younger brother or a younger sister?”

“Does Jingzhe want a younger brother or a younger sister?”

“I like both! If it’s a younger brother, I can teach him to play with a slingshot. If it’s a ge’er, I can let him ride my wooden horse. If it’s a younger sister, I can use the copper coins I saved to buy her pretty skirts.”

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became, hopping up and down. “Brother or sister, we can all play together!”

Seeing his joy at the thought of siblings, Xiao Yuanbao felt happy too. He pulled Jingzhe into his arms and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. “Our Jingzhe is so good.”

When Qi Beinan returned from the government office, Xiao Yuanbao—now prone to drowsiness during pregnancy—was still napping.

He slept deeply, a thin quilt over him and, on top of that, a small tiger-patterned blanket.

Qi Beinan glanced around the bed, surprised. The little rascal was not there sleeping beside Xiao Yuanbao as usual.

“Where’s Jingzhe?”

He stepped back out and asked Wen Ge’er.

“Young Master is in the study.”

Qi Beinan’s brow lifted slightly. “Why is he so obedient today?”

Usually he could not nap for even two incense sticks before waking, yet he would still cling to Xiao-die’s embrace and refuse to get up, staying lazy until Xiao-die rose.

Qi Beinan changed out of his red official robe and quietly went to the study.

With his hands behind his back, he peeked in through the doorway. At the long desk sat a small figure, head tilted slightly, little hand gripping a brush, brows knitted together in concentration—serious and proper indeed.

“Oh my, whose little baby writes such fine characters?”

Hearing the voice behind him, Jingzhe realized Qi Beinan had returned.

“Daddy!”

Qi Beinan lifted him into his lap. “Why so well-behaved today? You’ve written eight full characters.”

“I want to learn to write more. When the baby in Xiao-die’s tummy is born, I’ll teach them to read and write.”

Jingzhe picked up the brush and continued writing “Qi” and “Xiao” on the paper.

“You know Xiao-die has a baby?” Qi Beinan asked.

“Mm.”

Jingzhe nodded. “Azu told me. Xiao-die said so too.”

Qi Beinan laughed and wrapped his hand around the little one’s. “Then Daddy will teach big brother two more characters. When Second Treasure is born, Jingzhe can be a capable Big Treasure—a capable older brother.”

The thought of becoming a capable Big Treasure made Jingzhe even more diligent.

He obediently followed Qi Beinan, filling a whole page with characters without once complaining of being tired.

Watching his writing grow more orderly, Qi Beinan felt pleased and kissed his soft cheek several times.

Jingzhe rubbed the cheek that had been kissed, feeling it both ticklish and sore.

He reached up to touch Qi Beinan’s chin.

“It’s a beard!”

Qi Beinan laughed. “Did it prick you?”

“Why does Daddy grow a beard? Xiao-die doesn’t.”

“Because Daddy is a man. Men grow beards—Daddy does, Azu does. But Xiao-die is a ge’er, so he doesn’t grow one.”

Jingzhe’s eyes lit up. “Xiao-die says Jingzhe is a boy too. Then I want to grow a beard!”

Qi Beinan did not quite grasp the implication and nodded. “That’s right. Jingzhe is a boy. You’ll grow a beard too.”

Jingzhe furrowed his brows. “I want to grow one now.”

Qi Beinan’s brow twitched. “You’re still small—a little baby with a soft white face. How could you grow a beard now?”

“When you grow up and can marry, it will grow by itself.”

“I don’t want to marry. I want a beard now!”

Jingzhe pouted, flopping onto the desk in stubborn protest, demanding a beard.

Qi Beinan pinched his cheek and glanced at the brush and ink nearby. After a moment’s thought, he asked, “Then where do you want your beard?”

Jingzhe immediately lifted his chin. “On my chin too!”

Qi Beinan smiled indulgently. “Very well.”

When Xiao Yuanbao woke from his nap, he found that the little one who had been sleeping beside him had slipped away at some unknown time.

He removed the small tiger blanket from over his belly and called for Hongtang to bring water. After washing his face, the heavy summer drowsiness finally eased a little.

“Xiao-die, Xiao-die! Come look!”

Xiao Yuanbao had only just woken properly when the little one came scampering in, hopping with excitement.

On that fair, clean little face was a full ring of thick whiskers drawn all around—like a bearded opera performer.

“What happened to your face?!”

Jingzhe happily ran up to Xiao Yuanbao, lifting his chin and tilting his head from side to side. “It’s the beard I grew!”

Xiao Yuanbao burst out laughing. “Who gave you such a beard? You look like a little old man.”

“Daddy gave it to me! I’m a man like Daddy now!”

Qi Beinan followed in behind him, laughing. “He ran so fast I couldn’t catch him.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed and scolded, “You’re a grown man. It’s one thing to let the child fool around—why are you helping him?”

Qi Beinan said, “Isn’t it good? He looks like a mountain bandit chief.”

Seeing that neither the big one nor the little one could be reasoned with when they started being ridiculous, Xiao Yuanbao beckoned. “Come here. Xiao-die will wash it off.”

“No! I want to keep my beard to sleep!”

Jingzhe hid behind Qi Beinan, guarding his beard fiercely and refusing to come over.

Xiao Yuanbao shook his head. “I truly have no way with the two of you.”

Second Treasure was born in early summer, just as the cicadas began to sing in the garden. It was a quiet, ordinary day.

When Xiao Yuanbao rose from his noon nap feeling unwell, his prior experience told him immediately what it meant. The discomfort in his abdomen made it clear—he was about to give birth.

The household stirred into motion, just as it had when Jingzhe was born.

Jingzhe had been outside buying a sugar figurine from a vendor calling out in the street. When he returned, he found the residence in complete commotion.

Though he did not fully understand what was happening, he sensed that perhaps the baby was about to be born.

Filled with curiosity, he ran to see Xiao-die, but the adults were flustered and would not let him enter.

At first he did not think much of it. But when he saw the basins being carried out—bright red inside—his sugar figurine slipped from his hand. The Guan Gong head he held shattered crookedly on the ground.

Jingzhe burst into tears.

“Xiao-die! I want Xiao-die!”

He had barely cried out twice when he heard another baby’s cry from inside.

At once he stopped crying.

The adults waiting in the courtyard visibly relaxed.

A round-faced lady came out smiling. “Born! Fulang and child are both safe!”

Jingzhe saw his father rush inside like a horse galloping across the grasslands. Sniffling, he hurried after him.

Daddy was beaming, holding Xiao-die and kissing his forehead.

There was now another small bundle wrapped in a quilt in the room. Jingzhe crept closer to look.

The baby in the blanket was very small, eyes closed as if asleep. The tip of the nose was a little red—he must have been crying just now.

“Jingzhe, come here.”

Hearing Xiao-die’s soft call, he ran over at once.

“That is your younger brother. He is a ge’er.”

Jingzhe asked, “A ge’er who won’t grow a beard?”

The entire room burst into laughter.

Jingzhe did not understand what everyone was laughing at, but he kept his word. He would let him ride the wooden horse Uncle Ming had given him—his favorite wooden horse…

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

In the spring of the thirty-fifth year of Kaide, Qi Beinan returned to the capital from the Southwest. The salt administration that had lasted nearly five years was finally concluded.

When he first went to the Southwest to handle the salt affairs, eager to finish his duties quickly and return to the capital, he had cracked down on illicit salt in Lianping too swiftly and too harshly. Many loose ends were left behind. It alarmed the greater forces in other prefectures of the Southwest, making subsequent investigations far more difficult.

Circumstances shifted, and in the end it took four or five full years to settle the salt administration in the Southwest properly—about the same length of time as his earlier handling of salt matters.

This time, however, more was accomplished. Illicit salt throughout the realm was thoroughly purged, and the state treasury grew considerably fuller.

Over those four or five years, he traveled repeatedly between the capital and the Southwest. The distance was great, the official duties heavy. The time he truly spent at home could not be called much.

“Xiao-die.”

Qi Jingzhe turned his head several times toward the mouth of the alley. He had waited most of the day. Now that the hour of dismissal drew near, he felt even less certain in his heart.

He reached out to hold Xiao Yuanbao’s hand and asked softly, “Will Daddy like me?”

Hearing this, Xiao Yuanbao lowered his eyes to the small, worried face. His brow moved slightly.

“How could Daddy not like you? Every letter he sends asks whether you’re eating well and whether you’ve grown taller. Last time we mailed him your handwriting, he even praised you for doing well. Didn’t Xiao-die read you the letter?”

Qi Jingzhe pressed his lips together and kicked at a pebble by his foot.

“But that was only in a letter. Daddy didn’t see me with his own eyes. What if he sees me and finds I haven’t grown very tall, and my characters aren’t all written neatly? What if he doesn’t like me then?”

At this, Xiao Yuanbao let out a soft breath and bent to lift the child into his arms.

Hearing such words from him, his own heart ached.

One year after Jingzhe was born, Qi Beinan had gone back to the Southwest for salt affairs. During the time when he could have been closest to the child, Jingzhe had still been too young to remember.

When he grew older—able to speak, to run, to jump—Qi Beinan was far away in the Southwest. They saw each other only once or twice a year, and even then the visits were hurried.

Just as the child began to grow close to him, he would have to leave again.

It was much like Xiao Yuanbao’s own childhood—just as he grew close to Xiao Hu, his father would head into the mountains again.

Now that he was a parent himself, he finally understood how difficult it was to be a father.

One wished to stay and accompany the child more, yet life demanded work. It was hard to have both. A sense of indebtedness lingered in his heart.

But he himself had grown up this way. He could understand the child’s unease.

“Today our Jingzhe bathed until he smells sweet, and he’s wearing the new clothes Aunt Gui made. So well-behaved and sensible, not naughty at all. Of course grown-ups will like you.”

Xiao Yuanbao kissed the child’s soft, pale cheek. “Later I’ll tell Daddy that our Jingzhe waited at the gate all morning for him to come home. Daddy will surely be happy.”

“Really?”

Qi Jingzhe still asked cautiously.

“Of course.”

“Then will Daddy kiss me like Xiao-die does?”

Qi Jingzhe thought: if Daddy kisses him too, then he must like him the same way Xiao-die does.

But if he doesn’t kiss him, then… then it must be a different kind of liking.

Perhaps grown-ups like people differently.

Just as his thoughts wandered, the sound of carriage wheels rolling over bluestone drifted down the alley.

A familiar carriage approached the residence.

Jingzhe recognized their family carriage. He craned his neck high. “Is that Daddy?”

Xiao Yuanbao carried him out to the gate.

If it was not Qi Beinan, then who could it be? The carriage was driven by Qin Jiang.

The carriage had barely stopped, not yet fully steady, when the curtain was lifted and a tall man jumped down from inside.

Jingzhe had not seen his own father for nearly a year. Truthfully, he barely remembered what Daddy looked like.

He had imagined that when he saw him, he might feel strange.

But when that man walked toward him with a smile, he felt especially warm and familiar.

For a moment he found it odd—then suddenly understood why.

Because when he looked into the bronze mirror, the little face staring back—those high dark brows and the straight nose—looked so much like Daddy’s.

Like clay figurines from the same mold at the mud-figure stall in the outer city.

“Jingzhe, it’s been so long since you’ve seen Daddy. Why don’t you say anything? Don’t you miss Daddy?”

Qi Beinan looked at the little child in Xiao Yuanbao’s arms. Compared to the last time he had seen him, he had grown nearly a head taller. Those eyes blinked quietly—nothing like the mischievous child Xiao Yuanbao described in letters.

“Daddy,” Jingzhe called softly, a little shy.

At the sound, Qi Beinan reached out and took the child into his arms, planting a loud kiss on him. “It’s been so long since I saw our Jingzhe. Daddy missed you to death. And now you’ve grown so tall.”

Jingzhe’s bright black eyes lit up instantly. Hearing Daddy say he missed him—and being kissed just like Xiao-die did—made his heart feel as though a little bird were fluttering inside.

He wrapped his arms around Qi Beinan’s neck, rested his head on his shoulder, and whispered, “Jingzhe missed Daddy too.”

Xiao Yuanbao watched the father and son and shook his head with a smile.

He knew Qi Beinan well. There was no way he would ever let his child grow distant from him.

When Xiao Yuanbao himself had been timid and quiet as a child, Qi Beinan had coaxed him into closeness. How much easier with Jingzhe, whose nature was already bright and lively.

Though only a few words were needed for father and son to grow close, that evening when Xiao Yuanbao laughingly told Qi Beinan how Jingzhe had feared he might not be liked, Qi Beinan still felt a pang in his heart.

He felt he had burdened Xiao Yuanbao these years and neglected accompanying his child.

“Every few days I send a letter. Everything needed for food and daily use I send home. Even the capital post stations know our household. Who doesn’t say that Lord Qi is devoted to his family?”

Xiao Yuanbao turned his head toward him. “You’ve already done very well. A man standing tall between heaven and earth cannot, in the prime of his life—when he can serve the people and the court—circle only around his fulang and child.”

“Jingzhe likes you. That’s why he was afraid you might not like him.”

Qi Beinan laughed and drew Xiao Yuanbao into his arms. “When did Xiao-die become so good at comforting people? You’ve left me no room even to feel guilty.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “It’s simply the truth. What is there to feel guilty about?”

Just then, a knock sounded outside. Wen Ge’er, who slept in the side room, spoke softly, “Fulang, Daren, the nurse who was looking after Young Master Jingzhe says he refuses to sleep.”

“What’s the matter?”

Qi Beinan sat upright at once.

“They say he’s fussing, insisting he wants to sleep in the same room as Daren.”

Qi Beinan laughed. “This child.”

All afternoon he had been like a little tail, sticking close wherever Qi Beinan went.

After dinner, the three of them had gone out to stroll through the night market to help digest their meal.

At the market, Qi Beinan bought him a puppet, a wooden Huarong Dao puzzle, two slingshots of different materials and patterns, and three little clay whistle figurines.

The child was so delighted his eyes stayed curved into crescents, humming little nursery rhymes under his breath.

By the time they returned home, it was already past his usual bedtime. Half the joy drained from his small face at once.

Pressing his lips together, he said softly to Qi Beinan, who was carrying him, “Daddy, I should go back to my room to sleep.”

Xiao-die had taught him the rules: when the hour came, he must go to bed.

He had learned the habit well.

It was already a quarter of an hour past the time for washing and sleeping. He knew that even with Daddy home, he could not break the rules—though in his heart he was reluctant to part from Qi Beinan.

A tiny wish flickered in his mind that Qi Beinan might say they could play a little longer.

But instead, Qi Beinan said, “All right. Go to bed early. Tomorrow Daddy will take you to the outskirts of the capital.”

Going to the outskirts was certainly exciting—of course it was!

But a four-year-old did not yet have the eyes to look far ahead. He only wished he could play a little longer right now.

Dragging his small steps like a little snail, he reached the doorway, then turned back. “Daddy, I’m going back to my room now.”

Qi Beinan waved. “Go on.”

The child shuffled two steps, crestfallen, then suddenly remembered something. He ran back quickly, afraid Qi Beinan might think him naughty for not sleeping.

“I didn’t take my clay whistle!”

Qi Beinan picked up the small donkey-shaped toy from the table and handed it to him.

Clutching the clay whistle, with no further excuse left, the child said again, “I’m really going to my room now~”

Qi Beinan guessed he wanted to keep playing and smiled, just about to say he could stay up a bit longer.

At that moment Xiao Yuanbao came out from the inner room. “The water’s ready. Go wash up.”

“Jingzhe, why aren’t you in bed yet?”

Hearing Xiao Yuanbao’s voice, the little one’s face flushed red, and he darted off like smoke.

Qi Beinan watched him run and turned to Xiao Yuanbao. “He wanted to play a bit longer. It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “I know you two haven’t had much time together. If he’d asked to play longer, how could I refuse? But look at him—I only asked once and he ran off himself.”

“He’s probably gone back to play with that pile of things in his room.”

…

Qi Beinan gathered his thoughts and said, “I’ll bring him over to sleep. If he doesn’t sleep properly, he won’t have any energy tomorrow.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “Go fetch him.”

Qi Beinan put on an outer robe and went to the other room to carry Jingzhe back.

When the little one came over, he hid under the small blanket wrapped around him, too shy to look at Xiao Yuanbao. He lay against Qi Beinan and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Seeing the child’s eyelashes fluttering nonstop, Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help laughing inwardly. He reached out and tickled his side. “Still pretending? I noticed long ago.”

Unable to endure the tickling, the child burst into giggles and opened his eyes. “Xiao-die, don’t tickle me! Don’t tickle me!”

After a bit of laughing and fussing, they tucked him into the blankets.

He lay between the two of them, little feet pressed against Daddy and Xiao-die. It felt especially warm and steady, and the quilt smelled nice.

He happily nuzzled against Xiao Yuanbao’s shoulder, then rubbed against Qi Beinan’s arm.

Qi Beinan reached out and pulled him into his embrace, letting him sleep nestled in the crook of his arm.

The little one happily nuzzled Qi Beinan’s neck and said sweetly, “Jingzhe likes Daddy.”

Then he stretched out a hand to grasp Xiao Yuanbao’s hand on the other side. “And likes Xiao-die too.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed. “You’re quite good at balancing things.”

“So do you like Daddy more, or Xiao-die more?”

“Like both! Like both the most, the most, the most!”

After saying that, he paused, eyes turning thoughtfully, and added, “But if Xiao-die buys Jingzhe one of those little puppies in cages by the roadside in Sweet Soup Alley, then I’ll like Xiao-die just a tiny bit more.”

Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao could not help but laugh aloud.

Xiao Yuanbao tapped his nose lightly. “You’re quite the businessman, aren’t you?”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

That evening, Madam Jiang was in high spirits and ordered the dishes served.

Young maids and attendants streamed into the room like flowing water, laying out dish after dish. The display was truly grand.

After talking for so long, Xiao Yuanbao’s throat felt a little dry. As he lowered his head to sip tea, he happened to glimpse a figure outside the garden who looked faintly familiar.

The person stood respectfully with a tray in hand, head slightly bowed, not daring to look around.

From the clothing, Xiao Yuanbao could tell it was a ge’er. A certain person surfaced in his mind.

“What are you looking at?”

Hearing Jiang Tangtuan’s voice, Xiao Yuanbao withdrew his gaze. “Nothing.”

Jiang Tangtuan responded, yet still followed the direction of Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes and spotted the figure standing at the garden gate.

A slight movement crossed his brow. He summoned his personal attendant and whispered a few instructions into their ear.

The evening meal lasted quite some time. Madam Jiang was in a good mood and had a hearty appetite.

It was Xiao Yuanbao’s first time tasting Jinling cuisine, and he too ate his fill.

By the time the banquet ended, it was already late.

Jiang Tangtuan accompanied Xiao Yuanbao back to his quarters.

“Jinling isn’t as hot as the capital, but in high summer the heat is still heavy,” Jiang Tangtuan said. “I had some ice placed in this courtyard. If it feels too cold, just have someone remove a portion.”

The moment Xiao Yuanbao stepped inside, he felt the coolness. It was even more refreshing than Madam Jiang’s courtyard.

Madam Jiang, being older, did not fear the heat much and thus kept less ice.

“I can manage,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “And it smells lovely in here—like orchids.”

“There are orchids and jasmine placed about. They help with sleep.”

“You’ve taken such meticulous care.”

“It’s nothing.”

Jiang Tangtuan patted the back of his hand. “You’ve traveled a long way. Rest early. I haven’t journeyed anywhere, yet perhaps because of the pregnancy my strength fails me easily. I didn’t feel it while talking in Mother’s courtyard, but after the meal I suddenly feel tired.”

“You should rest more now that you’re with child.”

“I’ll send someone to chat with you for a while, then return to my room. I’ll come find you early tomorrow.”

Xiao Yuanbao watched Jiang Tangtuan leave, then sat down to rest for a moment.

After a short while, the maid assigned to attend him spoke gently, “Fulang, the person has arrived. Shall we let him enter?”

Xiao Yuanbao paused, wondering who it could be.

Then he recalled Jiang Tangtuan’s mention of sending someone to speak with him.

In an instant, he understood.

After a brief silence, he lifted his hand slightly. “Let him come in.”

Since he was here, and that person was here as well, there was no harm in seeing an old acquaintance.

The kitchen staff, hoping to witness some amusement, had deliberately sent him to deliver dishes.

Yet his status was too low to enter Madam’s courtyard.

He had expected nothing more than standing far outside, never setting foot in the main hall nor glimpsing the honored guest.

He had not expected that after returning to the kitchen, someone from Young Master Tuan’s side would summon him that evening.

Those who had flattered the powerful and scorned the weak immediately changed their tune.

They offered him tea and laid out pastries and meat, telling him to eat while waiting to be called.

He sneered inwardly. They assumed he knew the honored guest well. They did not realize there was no good acquaintance between them.

Wang Chao understood that Xiao Yuanbao’s reason for seeing him was likely nothing more than to observe how wretched and fallen he had become—perhaps a diversion for someone of higher standing.

After years of burning like an oil lamp in the Jiang household, living as a servant, he had long since shed any pride. He no longer even felt like a person.

And so he waited blankly for the summons.

When he entered the room and saw the once-familiar youthful face—now clothed in fine brocade, jade pendant at the waist—he felt numb as he knelt and kowtowed like a servant before his master.

“This servant greets Fulang.”

Xiao Yuanbao looked at Wang Chao in his coarse clothing. He was dressed even more poorly than in the days at the estate.

His face and build had not changed much from youth, only grown older. Perhaps from hardship, a faint weariness clung to his features.

Those things mattered little.

What mattered was his eyes—still as stagnant water, no longer holding the bright hope for all things that once shone there.

“Ten years since we parted in the village,” Xiao Yuanbao said, asking him to rise and sit. “Have you been well?”

Wang Chao looked at Xiao Yuanbao.

The features were much the same as in youth, yet somehow a noble bearing now surrounded him.

Perhaps it was in the way Xiao Yuanbao carried himself—open and composed, no longer the rustic ge’er of mountain fields, but someone who could command a household and preside with authority.

Wang Chao had imagined that seeing Xiao Yuanbao flourishing so magnificently while he himself had fallen into such misery would fill him with humiliation, shame, and resentment at fate’s injustice.

But when he truly saw him, his heart was unexpectedly calm.

Perhaps the gulf between them was so vast that there was nothing left to compare.

“As a servant, one’s body is not one’s own. What meaning is there in speaking of well or unwell? It is merely surviving day by day.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s brow shifted slightly. “The road was your own choosing.”

“If I had known earlier how difficult servitude is, perhaps I would not be as I am today,” Wang Chao replied.

“But one cannot foresee the future. Our knowledge is limited. Only after crashing into the southern wall and turning back does one understand whether the choices made were right or wrong.”

Their conversation was remarkably even, as though they were truly old acquaintances reunited after many years.

Perhaps life had been too hard. Having finally found someone from the past, Wang Chao slowly recounted what had happened to him.

He had taken Zhu Zhuangtou’s surname and come to Jinling.

When he first arrived at the Jiang household, he had truly been dazzled by its wealth and grandeur.

Zhu Zhuangtou’s principal wife had been part of Madam’s dowry household and held considerable influence in the garden.

In those early days, she had treated him well, feeding and caring for him. Alone in a strange place, he had sincerely regarded her as a mother and shown her filial respect.

Who would have thought he was merely a pawn in her struggle for power?

She had hoped he would serve Young Master Yuan, perhaps even become a concubine. Even as a lesser wife, he would enjoy endless wealth and comfort.

Before he left home, his mother had whispered the same hopes in his ear.

After seeing the splendor of the Jiang residence, his heart had drifted with those dreams.

And so, without yet understanding Madam’s or Young Master Yuan’s temperaments, he had nurtured the foolish thought of becoming a master himself, going to curry favor and act ingratiating before Young Master Yuan.

Unfortunately, Young Master Yuan was upright in character. He saw through Wang Chao’s improper intentions in serving him, grew angry, and had him expelled from the inner courtyard.

When the lady who had once supported him saw that he was useless and had failed in his task—and that she herself had been reprimanded by Madam because of him—she grew displeased. She ordered him to change his surname back and forbade him from claiming to belong to the Zhu household.

Being driven from the inner courtyard was humiliating enough. Losing his patron afterward turned him into a complete laughingstock within the residence.

In the outer courtyard, he was repeatedly ostracized and bullied. Though all were servants, he was made to take orders from those in favor.

He had carried out night soil and washed clothes.

Finding life unbearable, he once wrote home to ask for help.

Yet for reasons unknown, no reply ever came.

Later he learned that his letters had been intercepted by Zhu Zhuangtou’s principal wife. When he went to demand them, he received only a beating and curses.

Last year, he finally received a letter.

It brought ill news.

The letter said that his mother had spent her days eating and sleeping.

One day after lunch, she lay down—and never woke again.

Wang Chao was devastated. Back when they were at the estate, he had often heard his mother complain of dizziness and seeing spots before her eyes. He had urged her not to stay indoors all day and to walk outside more, but she would not listen.

And in the end, this day still came.

Xiao Yuanbao had not even known that Madam Qin had passed away. After his father came to the capital, news from the village and county had grown far less frequent.

He could not help but sigh inwardly.

In truth, he had foreseen even in his youth that Wang Chao would not fare well here.

He was not Zhu Zhuangtou’s legitimate son, but the child of a concubine. Sent to serve in Jinling at the main household, how magnanimous would Zhu Zhuangtou’s principal wife have had to be to tolerate him?

But at the time, mother and son had not seen clearly. Their experience had been too limited.

The sky darkened; a few stars appeared.

After they had spoken enough, Xiao Yuanbao offered him tea, then told him to return.

Remembering their past acquaintance, he intended to leave him some silver before he departed—at least honoring the bond they once shared.

Wang Chao rose to take his leave. When he reached the door, he suddenly stopped.

With a thud, he turned back and knelt directly before Xiao Yuanbao.

Xiao Yuanbao’s brow tightened. “Though I pity your hardships in the Jiang household, I cannot decide matters for you. This is the Jiang family. Your affairs are theirs.”

Wang Chao knelt and bowed deeply, as though staking everything on this moment. “I know. I am the least deserving person to beg you for anything. But having glimpsed even a sliver of light, I still wish to live well.”

“These years I have saved what little I could. I want to redeem myself and leave this residence. But Zhu Zhuangtou’s wife presses down on me. She will not let me go. I can only remain here, looked down upon and bullied.”

“Most of my life has already been ground away. Even if I must spend every coin I have, I want to be free again. Even if I freeze or starve outside, I would accept it willingly. I would close my eyes smiling.”

He kowtowed several times, his forehead striking the floor with dull thuds.

Seeing the resolve in Wang Chao’s heart, Xiao Yuanbao fell silent for a moment and let out a slow breath.

“Very well…”

“You truly have some skill, to know such a powerful person. Had you spoken of this connection earlier, why suffer so many years of humiliation?”

“But have you thought through what you will do for a livelihood once you leave? Life outside is not so easy.”

Early the next morning, the woman from Zhu Zhuangtou’s household, nearly grinding her teeth to dust, handed over Wang Chao’s contract of sale.

When the kitchen staff saw Wang Chao packing his things, they all came to speak to him.

He had long despised many of the faces in that residence. In the past he had been like a mute, speaking only when forced.

Now, holding his contract in his hands, he felt as though he had come back to life.

He slung his bundle over his shoulder and, with a smile toward the kitchen, said, “We shall not meet again.”

Stepping out the back gate of the Jiang residence, a breeze met him.

A rare cool wind in the heat of July.

Looking up, he saw that on a tree near the gate, white trumpet flowers had bloomed.

He bent to pick one fallen blossom from the ground. The petals were soft and delicate, shaped just like a little horn.

In the countryside, such flowers were the most ordinary of things. He had once disdained even to notice them. Now, suddenly, they seemed beautiful.

He lifted his head and gazed at the bustling street, recalling how Chef Wang had asked what he would do for a living.

Laundry for others, sewing work… any of it would do. In times of peace, as long as one worked diligently, there would always be a way to survive.

“Has he gone?”

“He has already left.”

Jiang Tangtuan nodded upon hearing this.

Turning to Xiao Yuanbao, he said, “You are kind-hearted.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled faintly. “It is not so much kindness. I simply pitied that he has lost his mother and now has no one left to rely on.”

Jiang Tangtuan patted his hand in comfort. “Today I’ll take you around Jinling. Once we go to Feng County, it won’t be nearly as lively as the prefectural city.”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

That summer was oppressively hot.

Xiao Yuanbao received a letter from Jiang Tangtuan saying he was with child. If there were time, he hoped Xiao Yuanbao could come to Jinling for a visit.

After finishing the letter, Xiao Yuanbao looked at Qi Jingzhe crawling about on a large bamboo mat. The boy had picked up a jade linked ring and was stuffing it into his mouth, smacking his lips. The drool bib around his neck was soaked halfway through in no time.

“You little glutton,” Xiao Yuanbao said fondly. “As if we don’t feed you enough—anything you see, you want to gnaw on.”

The wet nurse laughed. “Young Master is teething. He’s looking for something to grind his gums.”

Xiao Yuanbao pinched the baby’s soft white cheek, so tender one could not resist kissing it twice.

Seeing him, the little fellow burst into giggles, revealing two tiny front teeth that had just come in.

The child had already begun biting. Xiao Yuanbao had not been bitten yet, but Qi Beinan had suffered it several times.

Just the other day, the boy had lain across Qi Beinan’s arm, making little kissing sounds. Qi Beinan had proudly called Xiao Yuanbao over, saying how much their son adored him. Before he could laugh twice, the boy opened his mouth wide and bit him.

Xiao Yuanbao had laughed until he nearly bent double. He suspected the child had once seen dogs fighting outside while being carried outdoors—baring teeth and snapping—and had learned to bite that way while teething.

Holding the chubby child, Xiao Yuanbao felt a trace of reluctance. He did not want to leave this plump little one behind.

But the trip to Jinling had to be made. First, he had promised long ago that when Jiang Tangtuan became pregnant, he would visit. Second, the bond between them deserved such care.

When Qi Beinan returned from work, Xiao Yuanbao told him of it.

Qi Beinan held the heavy Jingzhe in his arms. “They’ve been married two years now. It’s right that you go. If not for official duties tying me down, I would go myself.”

“You’re handling the salt matters—you can’t leave,” Xiao Yuanbao replied. “It’ll be Teacher and me.”

He glanced at Jingzhe in Qi Beinan’s arms. “But the child is still small. The journey to Jinling takes at least three to five days. In this heat, I’m afraid he wouldn’t bear it well.”

“Jingzhe is sturdy, but long travel is taxing. A tender baby can easily suffer heatstroke.”

“You can be gone ten days or half a month without worry,” Qi Beinan said. “When I’m off duty, I can care for him. And he has the wet nurse.”

Xiao Yuanbao knew the child would not lack care. Still, he found it hard to part with him.

Yet he also understood—today he might say the child was too small; tomorrow, he might say studies kept him from traveling.

“Then I’ll go and return quickly.”

Once the trip was decided, Xiao Yuanbao began preparing gifts.

Food, fabrics, daily goods… When Bai Qiaogui learned he was going to see Jiang Tangtuan, though she was busy opening her new medical clinic, she still sent a chest of items to be delivered along.

In mid-July, Xiao Yuanbao set out with a cart full of gifts, accompanied by Jiang Fulang.

After four days of travel, they arrived in Jinling on the morning of the fifth day.

Jiang Tangtuan came personally to meet them at the city gate.

The moment he saw Xiao Yuanbao, his nose tingled. He rushed forward and embraced him.

“Since parting in the capital, who would have thought two or three years would pass? Time spent apart has grown longer than the days we shared.”

Xiao Yuanbao held him tightly, overjoyed to see his friend. “Though we lived in separate places, knowing through letters that you were well—that was already the best thing.”

“Now that we’ve finally met again, this should be a happy occasion. Why let it make you melancholy?”

Jiang Tangtuan wiped his eyes. “Perhaps it’s the pregnancy—my moods are unsteady. And you laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing. In such heat, you still came to the city gate. Aren’t you afraid of sunstroke?”

“I’m not so delicate. It’s just past four months—steady now. If I can’t even go out at this stage, how would I manage in the seventh or eighth month?”

After exchanging a few more words and greetings with Jiang Fulang, Jiang Tangtuan led them toward the Jiang residence.

The Jiang family doted on him dearly. Though he had married nearby, they frequently sent carriages to bring him back for visits.

This time, because he was pregnant and floods had struck Feng County, with Zhao Guangzong busy managing relief efforts, the family had brought him home to rest and protect the pregnancy.

Thus both sides were reassured.

Hearing that Jiang Tangtuan had already been in Jinling for two months, Xiao Yuanbao teased softly, “Don’t you miss Lord Zhao at all?”

Jiang Tangtuan flushed faintly. “When did you become so fond of teasing?”

Then in a lower voice, he added, “The floods in Feng County have been brought under control. But my family worries about me traveling while pregnant and won’t let me return yet. Now that you and Uncle have come, if we go to Feng County to see Guangzong, the elders can hardly forbid me from going.”

“So you’re quietly using me,” Xiao Yuanbao said with mock indignation. “How will you thank me?”

“However you wish.”

Jiang Tangtuan laughed. “When we go to the county in a few days and see your Third Brother Zhao, we’ll have him prepare the finest dishes for you.”

Xiao Yuanbao agreed with a smile.

Though Old Master Jiang was originally from Jiangzhou, he had served most of his official career in Jinling.

The Jiang residence in Jinling was even larger than their home in the capital—a three-courtyard estate.

After settling in, Xiao Yuanbao accompanied Jiang Tangtuan to greet the elders.

Madam Jiang and Old Master Jiang were well aware of the younger generation’s friendship and received him warmly. They spoke together at length.

“At home we often hear A Tuan speak of how good you are,” Madam Jiang said. “Even in A Yuan’s letters he often mentions you and Lord Qi. Today we finally meet you in person. You are indeed most agreeable.”

Xiao Yuanbao replied modestly, “In the capital we benefited greatly from Young Master Jiang’s guidance. Our family came from the provinces—without his patient instruction and help, we might have stumbled down many foolish paths.”

Madam Jiang, already kind of face, smiled even more warmly at his words.

“It is we who should thank you and Lord Qi. Yet you turn it into thanking us. Your words are sweet as honey—no wonder A Tuan praises you so. Now that I’ve met you, I like you greatly as well.”

She drew him closer and patted his hand. “It was no small thing to leave your little child at home to visit A Tuan. You must stay and dine in my garden this evening.”

“If Madam invites me to dine, then I am most fortunate.”

Madam Jiang called over her senior maid and instructed her to see to the kitchen personally.

“By good fortune, the estate just sent over fresh large green prawns today. Have the kitchen prepare them.”

The maid smiled and courteously said to Xiao Yuanbao, “Please sit and speak with our old madam a while. She hasn’t been this happy in days.”

With that, she went to the kitchen.

The Jiang household employed many servants; four or five cooks worked in the kitchen alone.

That afternoon, the kitchen staff had been dozing idly. When they suddenly saw the senior maid from Madam’s side appear, they sprang up at once, greeting her respectfully and stepping forward to attend her orders.

“Today the old madam is hosting honored guests. Pick out the best of the green prawns from the estate and make two dishes. Prepare three or four of our Jinling specialties as well. Chef Wang, you make two of your signature dishes. The rest of the small plates you may arrange yourselves.”

Chef Wang quickly agreed and called the kitchen women, maids, and young attendants to get busy.

The senior maid gave a few more instructions before returning.

“What sort of person is this,” one of the kitchen maids muttered as she peeled scallions, leaning closer to gossip, “that even Qiu Mama came personally to order such an elaborate meal? Steward Wang, have you heard what kind of guest Madam is entertaining?”

“I heard they’re visitors from the capital,” Chef Wang replied. “Our Young Master Tuan is with child, and they’ve come especially to see him.”

“It’s said they’re Young Master Tuan’s closest friends from the capital. After paying respects to Madam, she was so pleased she insisted they stay for dinner.”

“They must be important figures. Even Young Master Tuan’s friends from Jinling don’t always get invited to dine in the garden.”

Chef Wang, eager to display his knowledge, added, “Important indeed. I hear the husband of this visiting fulang is a tanhua from the same examination cohort as our Young Master Yuan. And Young Master Yuan himself is so talented—yet he only placed in the second tier.”

“Oh!” a maid exclaimed. “I’ve heard that tanhua are not only brilliant scholars, but exceptionally handsome too. What a pity we were born in Jinling—if we were in the capital, we might have gone to see the jinshi parading through the streets.”

Another attendant laughed. “Then this guest who came to our residence must have an extraordinary background, to match with a tanhua.”

“Not necessarily,” Chef Wang said. “I heard from Cuihong in Young Master Tuan’s chambers that the tanhua came from a small province to sit the exams in the capital. And this fulang was betrothed to him since childhood.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “Such fortune! I ought to ask my mother to betroth me to a scholar too. Who knows? One day I might become an official’s wife.”

“You silly girl,” someone scolded, “instead of doing your work properly, you fill your head with fantasies.”

Another attendant nudged Chef Wang. “Never mind Xianghe. Tell us more about the guest.”

Chef Wang lowered his voice. “It’s impressive enough that someone from a small place could catch Madam’s eye.”

“From where exactly?”

Chef Wang frowned, thinking hard. “They said from Linzhou… from Ling County—yes, Ling County!”

The kitchen staff were listening eagerly, except for one young fire-tender who had remained silent, chopping wood and feeding it into the stove.

When he heard “Linzhou, Ling County,” his hands suddenly stilled.

“What is the guest’s surname? And what is his husband’s surname?”

The abrupt question drew everyone’s attention. They turned and then burst into laughter.

“Oh ho, Wang Chao, you were listening too? The husband isn’t even here. Don’t go getting ideas.”

The kitchen filled with laughter.

Wang Chao felt humiliation burn through him, but he could do nothing except endure it.

He had not meant to join their chatter. Yet hearing “Linzhou” and “Ling County,” two long-buried figures had surfaced in his mind.

Before he could stop himself, he had spoken.

“Come to think of it, Wang Chao is from Ling County too,” Chef Wang said.

“There are thousands of people in one county. Surely he doesn’t imagine he knows such a person.”

The maid snorted. “If he had that kind of connection, would he still be tending fires in the kitchen?”

“Xianghe, your tongue is too sharp,” Chef Wang chided. “We all work in the same place—why be so biting?”

Then he turned to Wang Chao. “The honored guest’s surname is Xiao—called Yuanbao. As for his husband’s surname, I don’t know. Do you know him?”

The three words fell into Wang Chao’s ears like thunder.

In an instant, his suspicions were confirmed.

A blurred face rose in his memory.

He had been only fourteen or fifteen then, still young.

Before leaving for Jinling, he had met that person once in Geshan Village.

“Even if your family’s changed from tenant to landholder, don’t get too proud. You’re still mud-legged peasants…”

“I won’t stay in this little village forever. Steward Zhu has already contacted a master for me. I’m going to Jinling!”

“The Jiang family of Jinling—Master Jiang is a fifth-rank official. And Young Master Jiang has passed the exams. The Jiang family is on the rise.”

“Jinling is prosperous beyond measure—food, goods, entertainments everywhere. Fine silks fill the streets. The perfumes and hairpins that Ling County struggles to obtain are nothing but outdated fashions there…”

“Don’t be content with small gains. If you ever have the chance, leave Ling County and see those flourishing places. Open your eyes. Don’t spend your life circling a stove, smoke and soot blackening what little color you have…”

Words he had once spoken, years ago, now rang in his mind with painful clarity.

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

A flood of emotion surged through him, overwhelming and unstoppable, drowning him before he could react.

The others saw Wang Chao standing there as if his soul had left him.

“Look at that expression,” one muttered. “You’d think he really knows them.”

The maid rolled her eyes. “He’s good at pretending. Steward Wang, later have him deliver the dishes personally. Let’s see whether that honored guest so much as spares him a glance.”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚