Author Archives: Thandar

Bighead Sun thought it would be easy. After all, he had watched Lin Shuishi grow up and knew his timid nature well. The boy had been bullied by his family for years, always doing as he was told without daring to disobey. Bighead Sun believed that he could walk right in and take whatever he wanted from Lin Shuishi, who was now living alone, without anyone to rely on.

He had long been looked down upon by others, but now that his own son was about to become a concubine for a wealthy family—something that might not sound great but would bring practical benefits—he felt it was time to do something to win his son’s favor. This would also give him leverage to gain control over the household management in that high-status family.

In that brief moment, Bighead Sun envisioned a future where he would finally command respect and live a life of prestige.

He carefully avoided alerting the Zheng family down the slope and sneaked up to Lin Shuishi’s yard. As soon as he entered, he started searching around, inspecting everything valuable or not, planning what to take today and what to hire a cart to take away tomorrow.

Then, suddenly, his dull eyes lit up as he noticed the little black horse leisurely eating feed in the livestock pen!

He was well aware of Lin Shuishi’s modest possessions, none of which could compare to the value of this fine horse before him! The horse was strong and had a shiny coat, and it still looked young, with more growing to do. If it matured, it would be worth a fortune! If he could sell it in town, he could make a hefty profit.

But where did this horse come from? He pondered nervously, worried it might belong to someone else. If that were the case, even if he could intimidate Lin Shuishi, he might not be able to get away with taking someone else’s property.

Blinded by greed, he decided not to go inside the house but instead planned to steal the horse right then and there. With the move to town imminent, he could just deny everything! He had been doing this sort of thing all his life, thick-skinned and shameless, and not even the village head could do anything about it.

Bighead Sun swiftly sneaked into the livestock pen, looking around for a rope to lead the horse. But after fumbling around for a while, he realized the horse wasn’t even tied up; it was just left loose in the pen. Frustrated, he cursed under his breath. There wasn’t even anything to lead the horse with! Still, eyeing the fine horse before him, he gritted his teeth and decided to use his own belt as a makeshift lead.

But just then, the situation took a sudden turn! The black horse, which had been quietly eating its feed, suddenly lifted its head and fixed its gaze on him. The young horse had grown quickly, now standing at the height of a man, with strong, agile legs.

With a flick of its head, the horse easily dodged the makeshift noose. Then, it reared up and kicked out with its powerful hind legs. With a loud “thud,” it landed a solid blow to Bighead Sun’s chest, knocking the wind out of him so completely that he couldn’t even cry out in pain.

The black horse wasn’t done yet. It continued to kick and stomp, driving Bighead Sun out of the yard. The little white wolf also joined in, biting and scratching at him, leaving him bloodied and battered. Bighead Sun, now too pained to scream, rolled and crawled down the slope, barely able to stand after some time.

Fearful now, Bighead Sun’s cowardly nature resurfaced. Beaten badly by the animals, he abandoned his plan and stumbled back down the mountain path, heading home in a panic.

Enduring the pain of broken ribs and the smell of blood all over him, Bighead Sun trudged through the forest. Suddenly, he heard the roar of a bear ahead, and his legs turned to jelly. How could he encounter a bear here? His brother-in-law, also a well-known hunter in the area, had been killed by a bear! Panicking, he ran, ignoring the pain in his body, but just as he felt a strong gust of wind behind him, he suddenly lost consciousness.

Later, under the dark night sky, where clouds covered the moon, a pair of legs were visible just outside the forest. Slowly, something dragged the body further into the woods, leaving a trail of blood.

At Lin Shuishi’s home, after driving away the intruder, the little black horse shook its head, straightened its disturbed braids, and calmly returned to eating its feed. The little white wolf, meanwhile, cautiously approached the door of the earthen house but was still stopped by Fuli’s growl from inside, so it didn’t dare to go any closer and spent the night in the clean livestock pen with the horse.

Fuli had sensed someone entering the yard but didn’t bother to deal with it since he was holding onto something dear in his arms. When he realized the intruder couldn’t even fend off two young animals, he dismissed the matter altogether. After all, there were too many “people” living around, with several in each earthen house, and he was learning to gradually adapt to and tolerate this.

The next morning, Lin Shuishi woke up with a renewed spirit. He quickly got out of bed, prepared medicine for Fuli, added fresh straw for the horse, and even set up a small pen in the side room for the newly hatched gray geese, giving them some bran to feed on.

After a restless night filled with flashes of life and death, he finally came to terms with this world and began to fully integrate into it. His life and that of Shuishi Ge’er had merged, becoming a single drop in the vast ocean of time, silently flowing with the currents of history.

Time passed peacefully, and as the New Year approached, Fuli had finished his medicine and his wounds had scabbed over, yet he still hadn’t left. Lin Shuishi didn’t mention it either, and they continued living together quietly. Lin Shuishi gradually became accustomed to having this silent companion by his side, and the “beast” learned how to carry water and chop wood.

During the day, Fuli would sometimes disappear without a trace, but by nightfall, he would return with fresh game, still carrying the clean, sunlit scent of the mountain’s hot springs on him. He would lie beside Lin Shuishi, guarding him as he slept.

Fuli glanced through the gap in the wooden window, looking up at the nearly full moon, biting his lip to suppress the surge of his bloodlust and the urge to pounce on the sleeping person before him, to pin him down and devour him.

The New Year was approaching, and every household, regardless of wealth, was preparing for the celebrations, either by steaming buns or baking flatbreads. After receiving gifts from several families, Lin Shuishi began his own preparations. He took the coarse rice bought from town, de-hulled it using the Zheng family’s stone mill, soaked it in water for a day, then steamed it and mixed it with mugwort juice. He mashed everything together to make mugwort rice cakes, a dish unfamiliar to the local people. When he distributed them to the neighbors, they treated it as a rare delicacy.

After all, not to mention rice cakes, even rice itself is something the villagers must cherish. News of refugees migrating north had already reached this remote mountain village, and all they could do was guard their grain stores, saving them for next spring’s planting season, hoping for favorable weather so that they could have enough food and clothing.

Today, Lin Shuishi delivered some rice cakes to Aunt Qi, and by the time he returned home, it was already evening. He looked around but Fuli had not yet returned, which suddenly made him feel uneasy. He had grown accustomed to the warmth of Fuli’s chest and the steady rhythm of his breathing every night. The scent of that person seemed to have seeped into his very bones, and just smelling it brought him peace.

He had never experienced love and, because of his disability, had never even dared to imagine it. So now, he didn’t know what to do; Fuli wouldn’t speak, and neither would he. Every night before sleeping, he just silently wrestled with the emotions stirring inside him.

The sky had turned dark, and Lin Shuishi prepared the bedding. The bed beside his was particularly wide and long because Fuli was so tall and large that no ordinary blanket could cover him completely. So, Lin Shuishi had stitched two quilts together the night before, and today, it was ready to use.

Otherwise, every night, Fuli would end up taking part of his blanket. He would pin Lin Shuishi down, wrap him up tightly, sniffing him all over, his throat making a deep rumbling sound. Eventually, Fuli would press him between the quilts and intensely nuzzle the back of his neck. Once, he even accidentally bit him, which hurt so much that Lin Shuishi kept his distance for several days afterward, which finally made Fuli restrain himself.

Just as he was trimming the oil lamp wick to leave a light on for Fuli’s late return, there was a knock on the door, and a few aunties outside called out cheerfully.

Lin Shuishi immediately felt a headache. Ever since the villagers had started interacting more with him, these women had been persistently trying to introduce potential matches to him, insisting that it would be best to settle down before the New Year. They warned that with his faint pregnancy mark, it would be harder to find a husband if he waited too long. He had declined several times to no avail.

Deciding to brush them off once again, Lin Shuishi called out, “Aunt Gao, I’ve already gone to bed. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, you’re just a young man, so there’s no need for me to hold back. This is an important matter; if you miss it, you’ll regret it!” Aunt Gao teased Lin Shuishi, half-joking, half-serious.

Lin Shuishi felt helpless. He didn’t know when Fuli would return, so he needed to quickly send these “matchmakers” on their way. He got out of bed and opened the door. Aunt Gao wasn’t alone; she had brought a few of her close friends. They had found a good match for Lin Shuishi and couldn’t wait to come over and settle the matter.

“Come on, this person is a scholar who failed the imperial exams. Although he’s a bit poor, at least he’s got some learning in him. He could become a teacher in the future and wouldn’t starve, right?” Another one chimed in, “We should settle this quickly. I’ve heard that even a few girls have taken a liking to him.”

Lin Shuishi had no idea how he would live after becoming someone’s husband. He had never thought about what kind of girl he would marry, but he certainly hadn’t imagined “marrying” a scholar or butcher! He was about to find a way to firmly put an end to this, to stop them from trying to match him with anyone else.

Just as Lin Shuishi was about to speak, the group of women suddenly fell silent, staring at the doorway as if they had seen a ghost. Aunt Gao even stood up. “Lin Shuishi! Why is there a man in your house?” She didn’t finish her sentence, but the implication was clear: not only was there a man, but he was terrifying, radiating a deadly aura!

Lin Shuishi quickly turned around and saw Fuli standing at the door with a dead deer, blood still seemingly on his lips. His massive frame, taller than the doorway, required him to duck to enter. The oil lamp’s light cast shadows over his chiseled features, making him appear even more intimidating.

The women stared in shock at the man who naturally positioned himself behind Lin Shuishi. They were too frightened to speak, even their breathing became shallow. Not daring to look directly at Fuli, they shifted their gaze back to Lin Shuishi.

Lin Shuishi was also a bit flustered. Though Fuli came home every day, he rarely encountered outsiders and always managed to avoid people. He didn’t know why Fuli had suddenly come in so boldly today.

“Who, who is he? How dare he barge into a young man’s house at night? You’d better watch yourself, or I’ll call for help!” Aunt Gao threatened, trying to regain her composure. The other women, now emboldened by Aunt Gao’s lead, quickly chimed in.

Amidst the chaotic scene, Lin Shuishi clenched his teeth, stomped his foot, and shouted loudly at the women in front of him.

“No need to call for help!”

“He—he’s my husband!”

Lin Shuishi’s hand still trembled as he gripped the knife, staring wide-eyed at the wailing, venomous refugee bandits before him, and at the distant city gate, where flags had just begun to appear.

It was as if he had been struck by a harsh reality. The world had torn open a bloody corner, revealing its true nature to him. Lin Shuishi now fully understood that he could no longer view the world as he used to; he had to survive as Shuige’er. The times had changed, and the past was irretrievably gone.

Hearing the faint call from the weak being behind him, Fuli hesitated, pausing his hand that was about to tear off the bandit’s arm.

He panted heavily, gritting his teeth as he struggled to suppress the murderous urge within him. He threw the nearly lifeless man aside and turned to approach Lin Shuishi.

Without a word, Fuli bent down, scooped Lin Shuishi up, and started walking away.

Lin Shuishi, still in a daze, with a few splashes of blood on his face, finally snapped back to reality as he was tightly held in Fuli’s arms. He tilted his head to cautiously observe Fuli’s expression, gently kicked his legs, and lightly patted Fuli’s firm shoulder, signaling to the unconscious Cheng’an lying on the ground.

Fuli cast a heavy gaze toward Cheng’an, frowned, and without even reaching out, kicked Cheng’an into the nearby ox cart with a swift motion. Cheng’an landed with a thud, crashing into the middle of the cart bed, which finally jolted him awake.

Hissing in pain, Cheng’an winced, and as he regained consciousness, he was first startled by the sight of the blood-soaked bandits on the ground. Then, he turned and saw someone carrying Lin Shuishi into the forest.

He was about to shout for them to stop, but suddenly realized that the person carrying Lin Shuishi wasn’t a bandit. That strong, broad back, and the uniquely braided hair were unmistakable—it was Lin Shuishi’s injured benefactor! It must have been him who arrived just in time to save them. Goodness, what a terrifying sight! The bandits lay with their limbs bent unnaturally, clearly broken, their bodies covered in blood.

Looking more closely, Cheng’an noticed that Lin Shuishi was calmly lying on the man’s broad shoulder, not making a sound. The two were followed by the “puppy,” stumbling along as they were about to enter the forest.

But just then, the big man paused, seemingly listening to Lin Shuishi mutter something. He stopped, and like a wolf, turned back to glance at Cheng’an.

Realizing that they were waiting for him, Cheng’an rubbed his head, finally understanding. Ah, they were waiting for him!

He looked down at the severely injured bandits on the ground, narrowed his eyes, and decided to leave them to their fate rather than reporting them to the authorities. He didn’t want to invite trouble or incur the wrath of the refugee bandits. Instead, Cheng’an calmly checked the ox cart. The bandits had planned to steal it outright, so they hadn’t touched the ox or the goods, which were still securely piled up.

The driver had fled into the forest, hopefully to safety. As for the bandits on the ground, Cheng’an had no interest in getting involved with them. He couldn’t be bothered to report them and risk unnecessary trouble. So, he simply led the uneasy ox, following Fuli along the small path into the woods.

What he didn’t know was that shortly after the ox cart left, several wolves with mixed fur from the nearby hills emerged from the bushes, baring their fangs and growling as they descended upon the bandits.

As Fuli walked along the path, his ears twitched, and a flash of light flickered in his dark golden eyes before gradually receding into their depths.

At that moment, Fuli could have leapt through the forest, which would have been much faster, but he didn’t. He continued to walk steadily, measuring the distance of this homeward journey, carrying the female in his arms, like a human, slowly making his way back. Although his “slowly” was still fast enough that Cheng’an, who was driving the cart behind him, could barely keep up.

Lin Shuishi lay in Fuli’s arms, his mind racing with thoughts. The journey felt overwhelmingly long, but eventually, lulled by the man’s steady steps, he relaxed and drifted into a drowsy sleep. At that moment, he felt there was no place safer than this warm embrace.

He was fast asleep when suddenly he twitched, grabbed at something with his hand, and softly called out in his dream, “Fuli!”

The man didn’t stop; he just softly responded, “Hmm.”

The person who had been restless settled down, once again relaxing into the strong chest, unmoving.

There was only one path wide enough for an ox cart to pass through on the way back to the village, so halfway there, Cheng’an encountered the cart driver who had fled earlier. The driver had hoped that his ox cart might have made it back safely on its own, so he had chosen this path—and, as luck would have it, he really did come across it!

Cheng’an breathed a sigh of relief. Despite everything, they hadn’t lost anything valuable on this trip. Seeing how unsafe the area around the town had become, he immediately told the Zheng family not to go out unnecessarily. He had prepared everything they needed, and it was best to stay home and have a proper New Year.

He then went to the old village chief’s house to explain the situation, so the chief could warn the villagers. The old village chief understood the situation; the people of Rehe Village rarely traveled far. They lived off the mountains and rivers, and only the Zheng family had someone who studied and traveled often.

After taking care of everything, Cheng’an returned home, where he and his brothers divided the goods from the ox cart. They also delivered Lin Shuishi’s share up the hill. However, Zheng’s second brother was too frightened of Fuli, so it was up to Cheng’an and his third brother, Dongsheng, to carry the rice, flour, and oil, along with the small basket full of spices, up the slope.

The door to Lin Shuishi’s house was open. In the yard, the horse and the wolf were still engaged in their entirely unrelated “conversation.” The little wolf was “howling” as it proudly recounted its brave deeds from the day, puffing out its small chest with pride! But the clueless horse seemed unable to understand the wolf’s language, so the little wolf, not one to be discouraged, decided to act out the events itself!

The black horse had grown quickly; it hadn’t been long since it descended the mountain, and it already had the outline of an adult horse. Its large, bright eyes resembled those of its mother, and at that moment, it was calmly watching the little white wolf roll around the ground, busy with its reenactment.

Honestly, the horse thought that this carnivorous beast’s cub was a bit silly…

When the two small creatures saw someone enter the yard, they stopped what they were doing and stared at the gate, watching as two “humans” carried in a lot of things, with one of them, who looked familiar, heading toward the house.

Seeing this, the little white wolf quickly rolled up off the ground, pinned its ears back, and hid. The leader inside the house was already in a bad mood, and even the wolf didn’t dare get close! And yet, a “human” had the nerve to go inside? The wolf was afraid of getting caught in the crossfire! Naturally, the horse was, too.

Cheng’an originally thought that since they were delivering things, it would be polite to greet Lin Shuishi and check if the young one was still frightened. He was still young, and after experiencing such a dangerous moment today, Cheng’an was worried there might be some lingering effects.

But as he reached the doorway, he noticed that the usually mischievous animals had both scurried off to the livestock pen and were occasionally peeking at him—something was strangely off.

When he opened the door, he finally understood why: animals’ instincts are often the most accurate! As soon as Cheng’an opened the door, he could faintly see Lin Shuishi nestled in the man’s arms on the kang, fast asleep. And that so-called benefactor? He looked like a wild beast defending his territory. As soon as someone entered, he stood up, wrapping Lin Shuishi tightly in his arms, his chest hunched and head raised, ready to drive him away.

Normally, no one looked too closely, but now that Cheng’an was this close, he could see that the man’s eyes were golden! And his pupils were unusual! But Cheng’an was already chilled to the bone from being stared at like that, so he stiffly backed out of the room as quickly as he could.

Cheng’an felt a mix of fear and turmoil inside; he finally understood why his father was always so worried when it came to Lin Shuishi. This… this kind of person, this kind of strange being, was far from an ideal match!

Inside the house, after the “human” had left the territory, Fuli lowered his head, nuzzling against Lin Shuishi’s chest and cheeks, carefully sniffing the small body beneath him. Amidst the rich fragrance mixed with his own strong scent, Fuli felt very content. He laid down quietly, resting there peacefully.

Lin Shuishi slept deeply, his mind unsettled after witnessing such a bloody scene, as if his very soul had been shaken. He remained in a hazy, dreamlike state, though he felt no discomfort—only warmth. He sensed a giant wolf lying beside him, its body curled protectively around him as it watched over him with a predatory gaze, anxiously nuzzling and licking him.

Outside, a crescent moon hung in the sky, seemingly gathering strength, ready to unleash its full light and warmth when it reached its fullest.

Under the faint light of this crescent moon, a family from the remote village was quietly moving their belongings out of the village. This was none other than the uncle and aunt of Lin Shuishi, the same ones who had sold him to be sacrificed to the wolves. Accompanying them was a rather clever-looking ger, with a strikingly red birthmark on his forehead—a sign of his good fertility.

“Father, hurry up and move the last of the junk. Forget about the useless stuff! The main wife of Master Xu won’t let me bring too much. Once we live in the Xu household, there’ll be no shortage of fine things!” This ger, their son, was the pride and joy of the couple. He had finally secured a position as a secondary spouse to Master Xu, and now he was bringing his parents along to help him navigate the treacheries of the inner household.

At that moment, the ger’s mother was busy packing up a cabinet. Seeing the old, worn cabinet in front of her, she couldn’t help but think of the fine wooden one that had been taken by those bastards from Rehe Village. If only they still had it, it would have been perfect to bring to the Xu household as a display of status!

Anger flared within her, and she grabbed her husband’s ear. “This is all your fault! How could you be so useless, letting people walk all over us without saying a word!”

Her husband clutched his ear, groaning, “Blame me? Your brother wasn’t any better! I asked him to find an excuse to arrest someone, but he kept saying this wouldn’t work, that wouldn’t work, making excuses left and right!”

The ger watched his parents bicker and sighed, feeling that they were hardly the most dignified of elders, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Finally, the woman snapped, “My brother has official duties, not that you’d understand! If you have any guts, go find those things and bring them back! That’s the proper thing to do!”

Fueled by anger, her husband decided to take matters into his own hands. He had always been overshadowed by his sister when they were children, which had shaped his current temperament. Now, with his blood boiling, he recalled hearing that Lin Shuishi wasn’t living with the Zheng family but rather on his own, and a plan began to form in his mind.

Hmph! Those things are mine to reclaim, and it’s perfectly justified!

So, urged on by his wife and son, he set out under the moonlight toward Rehe Village. He trudged up the slope and, seeing the faint smoke rising from the chimney above, a cold smile crossed his face.

I’ll show them what I’m capable of!

As December arrived, the weather grew colder by the day.

This year, snow had come late to the capital. Even by December, there had been no sign of it. Instead, as mid-month approached, the city enjoyed a few clear and sunny days. In the winter, basking in sunlight was one of life’s greatest pleasures. Qin Zhao had Ah Qi bring out a lounge chair so he could relax in the courtyard, soaking up the sun with his soft little fry in his arms.

As for Jing Li, he had gone out early in the morning to buy ingredients and then disappeared into the kitchen, forbidding anyone from disturbing him. Even Ah Qi, who offered to help, was refused. Whatever he was up to remained a mystery.

Around noon, a delicious aroma began to waft through the air.

The little fry stirred in Qin Zhao’s arms, lifted his head, and his eyes lit up. “Wow—!”

He couldn’t stay put any longer.

Qin Zhao was equally curious.

Jing Li wasn’t much of a cook. Over the years, he’d learned a little from both Qin Zhao and Ah Qi, but his skills barely reached the level of cooking food without burning it.

Qin Zhao couldn’t help but wonder what Jing Li might have prepared for them today.

However, Jing Li had issued strict orders that no one was to enter the kitchen until he came out. Left with no choice, Qin Zhao peeled a grape and popped it into the little fry’s mouth to placate him for the time being.

A short while later, Jing Li finally emerged from the kitchen in a hurry, carrying a small stone stove.

The stove was usually used for boiling water or brewing medicine. It was made of stone and quite heavy, with embers still glowing inside. Jing Li wobbled slightly under its weight as he carried it out.

“What are you doing? Be careful,” Qin Zhao said, quickly getting up to help him, even letting the blanket on his lap fall to the ground in his haste.

With Qin Zhao’s assistance, Jing Li managed to place the stove in the center of the courtyard.

“Lunch is ready. Let’s eat here,” Jing Li said, his face smudged with a bit of soot. “Watch the fire and keep the little fry away from it. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he darted back into the kitchen.

Qin Zhao, still uneasy, called Ah Qi over to keep an eye on the little fry and the stove before heading into the kitchen himself.

The kitchen was, to put it mildly, a mess.

Bowls and plates of various sizes cluttered the countertops, holding partially prepared vegetables and fruits that had only been roughly sliced and still glistened with water droplets. On the cutting board lay a heaping plate of meat slices, unevenly cut—some thick, some thin, some large, some small, clearly the work of an amateur.

On the stove, a pot of bright red broth simmered, its aroma filling the room. Jing Li was busy ladling the broth into a copper hotpot.

The scent they had smelled outside earlier was undoubtedly from this pot of soup.

Qin Zhao surveyed the chaotic scene and, for a moment, didn’t know where to start. “What are you making?” he asked.

“You’re not supposed to be in here!” Jing Li frowned, annoyed at the intrusion. Then, with a sigh, he relented. “Fine. Help me carry these dishes outside. We’ll dip them in the broth to cook.”

Qin Zhao stepped closer to observe the broth. “Is this lamb bone soup?”

“Yes,” Jing Li replied.

“Why is it this color?”

“I added tomatoes,” Jing Li said proudly. “I also sautéed some chili and spices. Here, taste it.”

He scooped a bit with a small spoon, cooled it, and held it up to Qin Zhao’s lips.

Qin Zhao tasted it and commented, “It’s bland.”

“Really?” Jing Li took the same spoon and tried it himself. “It doesn’t taste bland to me. I think it’s just right.”

“It’s fine if you’re drinking it as is,” Qin Zhao explained. “But if you’re using it to cook vegetables and meat, the broth needs to be more robust, or the food will taste bland.”

Realization dawned on Jing Li. “I see!”

He muttered to himself as he rummaged through the kitchen for more spices and seasonings.

For a novice, the soup was actually quite well-made. The lamb bone flavor was rich, enhanced by the tanginess of the tomatoes and the warmth of the spices. It was slightly sour and spicy, making for a delicious and comforting broth.

In fact, this might have been the peak of Jing Li’s cooking abilities.

But now that Qin Zhao had pointed out that the flavor was too mild, Jing Li wasn’t sure how to adjust it properly.

Watching him flounder for a while, Qin Zhao sighed and took the spices from his hands. “Let me do it. You take the dishes outside.”

“Oh… alright,” Jing Li agreed reluctantly.

Jing Li could only comply.

He made several trips back and forth, finally bringing all the prepared dishes into the courtyard. By the time he returned, Qin Zhao had already finished enhancing the soup base.

Qin Zhao ladled the soup into the copper pot and added a few pieces of garlic and ginger. Watching his smooth and practiced movements, Jing Li curiously asked, “Have you seen something like this before?”

“Hmm?” Qin Zhao looked up. “Seen what?”

“This—hotpot! Does it exist in the capital?”

Jing Li hadn’t seen this style of dining in this era, but with the weather turning colder, lamb hotpot seemed like the perfect meal. It had been his idea to try something new and let Qin Zhao experience it.

Qin Zhao shook his head. “I’ve never heard of that name.”

“Then how do you know how to make it?”

“I just adjusted the seasoning in your broth. It wasn’t difficult.” Qin Zhao answered calmly.

Jing Li: “…”

Alright then.

It seemed there was very little in this world that Qin Zhao couldn’t do. He should have known better by now.

The copper pot was brought into the courtyard and placed atop the small stove to simmer. Chairs were arranged around the fire, and the meal began with everyone cooking slices of meat in the bubbling broth.

The little fry, already captivated by the aroma, could barely sit still. Unfortunately, with his short arms and legs, he couldn’t reach anything from his seat and had to rely on Uncle Ah Qi, who diligently fed him and ensured his bowl was never empty.

“Are you cold? Should I get you another blanket?” Jing Li asked, concerned about Qin Zhao’s health.

The wind wasn’t strong today, but sitting outside for too long could still lead to a chill. It would hardly be worth it to risk catching a cold for one meal.

“I’m not cold,” Qin Zhao reassured him. “It’s quite warm here.”

The lamb broth, spiced with warming ingredients, drove away the chill. By the end of the meal, everyone was warm from head to toe.

Despite the tempting food, Jing Li seemed uncharacteristically restrained today. He moved closer to Qin Zhao, picked up a slice of meat, and placed it in Qin Zhao’s bowl. “How did I do?”

“Acceptable,” Qin Zhao replied, but when he saw Jing Li’s face fall, he quickly added, “I like it very much.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Jing Li beamed and said proudly, “I’ve been really capable lately, haven’t I?”

Qin Zhao’s eyes flickered slightly, sensing there was more behind Jing Li’s words. He didn’t respond immediately.

Jing Li continued, “By the way, I’ve already bought everything you need. I made sure it’s all exactly as you requested, so there shouldn’t be any issues. You can check it later if you want.”

These items, of course, were for Qin Zhao’s upcoming meeting with the young emperor.

In two days, the ancestral worship ceremony would take place. According to the court’s schedule, the young emperor would leave the capital the next day. Qin Zhao planned to use this opportunity to meet with him and had been preparing for this encounter for weeks.

However…

“Xiao Yu,” Qin Zhao set his chopsticks down and said seriously, “no matter how much you try to please me, I will not agree to take you with me.”

Even with all his preparations, the plan carried risks. Qin Zhao could not allow Jing Li to be put in danger.

“Really? Can’t I go?” Jing Li pleaded softly. “I promise I’ll be good and won’t cause any trouble. You can disguise me as a guard, and I’ll follow quietly.”

“No.”

Qin Zhao’s tone was unusually firm. “We agreed when we arrived in the capital that you’d listen to me in everything.”

“But…” Jing Li hesitated.

He knew Qin Zhao’s refusal was for his sake, but the thought of staying home alone, waiting for news, was unbearable. He would rather face danger by Qin Zhao’s side than endure the torment of waiting, powerless and alone.

“Xiao Yu, I can usually give you whatever you want, but not this time,” Qin Zhao coaxed gently. “You know I’ve prepared thoroughly. There won’t be any danger on this trip. There’s no need for you to worry.”

“If there’s no danger, then why won’t you let me go?”

“Because this isn’t a leisure trip. I can’t let you be reckless.”

“I’m not treating this like a game,” Jing Li snapped, clearly provoked by Qin Zhao’s words. Anger flared in his voice as he said, “I just want to stay by your side. Fine, if you won’t let me go, I won’t meddle in your affairs anymore!”

He slammed his chopsticks onto the table, got up, and stormed off to the backyard.

Even the little fry stopped eating.

He quietly swallowed the meat in his mouth, blinking innocently as he looked up at his father.

The courtyard fell silent for a moment before Qin Zhao let out a quiet sigh and said calmly, “Let him cool off for a while. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it???

Jing Li crouched behind the courtyard wall, his anger nearly boiling over upon hearing Qin Zhao’s remark.

He hadn’t really meant to throw a tantrum—he was just trying to guilt Qin Zhao into agreeing with him. After storming out, he hadn’t gone far, waiting for Qin Zhao to come after him.

Who could have guessed that scoundrel wouldn’t even bother?

…He hadn’t even finished eating yet.

Seething, Jing Li didn’t know where to vent his frustration. After all the effort he’d put into his little act, walking back now would be humiliating. The aroma of hotpot still wafting through the air made his stomach grumble, and he reluctantly retreated to their bedroom instead.

What Jing Li didn’t expect was that Qin Zhao didn’t come to soothe him—not even by the next morning, when he was preparing to leave.

The following morning, the carriage arrived early at the back gate. After verifying everything was ready, Qin Zhao prepared to set off.

“You stay here and take good care of Madam and the young master,” Qin Zhao instructed Ah Qi.

“Understood, sir. You can rest assured,” Ah Qi replied.

Jing Li stood against the wall, holding the little fry, his expression icy as he listened. He let out a derisive snort and turned his head away.

“Still angry?” Qin Zhao approached, tilting his head as if to kiss him, but Jing Li dodged. “It’s my fault. I’ll make it up to you when I return—whatever you want. But for now, stay at home, alright?”

Jing Li still wouldn’t look at him, responding with a cold and reluctant “Oh,” which was barely an acknowledgment.

Qin Zhao reached out to touch Jing Li’s cheek, then lowered his hand to ruffle the little fry’s hair. He spoke gently, “Daddy has to leave for a while. Stay at home and protect Little Dad, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The little fry obediently nodded. “Okay!”

With that, Qin Zhao boarded the carriage and departed. Jing Li, showing no signs of lingering attachment, resolutely carried the little fry back to their bedroom.

Clearly, he was still fuming.

Ah Qi, having witnessed the argument the day before, hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should offer some advice. But he wasn’t skilled with words. Before he could figure out what to say, Jing Li had already slammed the bedroom door shut, leaving no room for discussion.

Left with no alternative, Ah Qi dutifully stood guard outside.

While Qin Zhao had instructed Ah Qi to protect Jing Li and the little fry, it was evident the “protection” also served as surveillance.

Qin Zhao knew Jing Li’s temperament all too well. Once Jing Li set his mind on something, not even Qin Zhao could easily change it. He hadn’t gone to placate him last night because he knew the issue would only spiral into an unresolvable argument.

Aside from forcibly keeping Jing Li at home, there was no other solution.

Qin Zhao had already informed Ah Qi of this the previous night. Consequently, Ah Qi was on high alert today, standing guard at the door with utmost vigilance. If, by any chance, Jing Li managed to sneak out and follow, Ah Qi’s career as a bodyguard would surely be over.

Inside the room, Jing Li withdrew his gaze and let out a dissatisfied hum.

He had anticipated Qin Zhao assigning Ah Qi to keep watch. Did Qin Zhao really think a single guard could stop him if he truly wanted to leave?

He underestimated him.

Jing Li had already devised a plan. He turned and walked to the window on the other side of the bedroom, but before he could get far, a small figure clung tightly to his leg.

The little fry hugged Jing Li’s leg firmly and declared in his babyish voice, “Daddy said you can’t go out, Little Dad.”

…He had almost forgotten about the little spy.

Jing Li felt it necessary to reeducate his son.

He picked up the little fry and placed him on the bed. Squatting down to his level, Jing Li asked gently, “Do you like Little Dad?”

“I like Little Dad!” the little fry immediately replied.

“And if Little Dad is being bullied, will you help him?”

“I will!”

“What if the one bullying Little Dad is Daddy? Will you still stand up for Daddy?”

“I will!” the little fry said seriously. “No one can bully Little Dad!”

Jing Li saw his chance and continued, “Well, Little Dad is being bullied right now. Will you help Little Dad?”

The little fry looked at him in confusion. “How can I help?”

“It’s simple,” Jing Li explained. “You just need to stay in bed, be quiet, and don’t move. If Uncle Ah Qi comes in to find Little Dad, just tell him Little Dad went out for a bit and will be back soon.”

The little fry frowned. “But Daddy said you can’t go out…”

“You just said you’d help Little Dad.”

“Umm…” The little fry hesitated, torn between obeying his daddy and helping his little dad. After a moment of internal struggle, he nodded. “Okay.”

Jing Li was satisfied. He helped the little fry take off his jacket, tucked him snugly under the blanket, and said, “Have a nap, and when you wake up, both Daddy and Little Dad will be back.”

“Okay!”

His agreement was a bit loud, so Jing Li quickly pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

The little fry clamped both hands over his mouth.

Jing Li leaned down and kissed his child on the forehead. “Good boy. I’ll bring you some sugar cakes when I get back.”

“And candied hawthorn!”

“Alright, candied hawthorn too. Got it.”

Having settled the little fry, Jing Li returned to the window.

The bedroom window was slightly ajar. He peeked outside to confirm that the young guard stationed at the door wasn’t paying attention. Then, he untied the sash at his waist.

As his clothing fell to the ground, a vibrant red koi fish slipped through the small gap in the window, tumbling silently into the drainage channel beside the wall.

The little koi flicked its tail smugly and swam downstream with the current.

Jing Li and Deng Tianyou had never formally met, so he wasn’t familiar with the man’s figure. It wasn’t until he got a proper look at his face that he realized who the person lying before him was.

Jing Li immediately dropped the broom and rushed over to help him up. “Lord Deng… Lord Deng! Wake up!”

Poor Deng Tianyou was nothing more than a scholar, and the ordeal had left him unconscious. No matter how much Jing Li called out, he didn’t wake up.

Jing Li tried everything—fanning him for air, pressing his acupressure points—but after a long struggle, he still couldn’t bring him around.

When Qin Zhao arrived, this was the scene he walked in on.

“What are you… doing?”

Seeing the little fry return alone had already made Qin Zhao uneasy. Carrying the child, he rushed out to find them but unfortunately arrived a step too late.

Qin Zhao glanced at the unconscious Deng Tianyou, then at Jing Li, who crouched beside him with a guilty expression. Without needing an explanation, he already understood most of what had happened.

Rubbing his temples, Qin Zhao sighed, “Let’s bring him inside and let him lie down for a while.”

Deng Tianyou had come to meet Qin Zhao as agreed.

Though Qin Zhao had been lying low, he wasn’t idle during these days of waiting for news in the capital. Deng Tianyou had recently returned to the capital for his official duties and had received a message from Qin Zhao before his departure, requesting a meeting at the residence.

Being a cautious man, Deng Tianyou didn’t want to draw suspicion by being seen entering Qin Zhao’s residence openly. Therefore, he came alone and attempted to sneak in through the back gate.

Unfortunately, his stealthy entrance coincided with Jing Li catching him in the act.

Jing Li had become far more vigilant lately, not letting even the slightest rustle go unnoticed. Seeing someone sneaking near the back gate of their home, he naturally assumed the worst.

As for Qin Zhao, while he had roughly calculated when Deng Tianyou might arrive, he hadn’t known the exact time and thus hadn’t informed Jing Li beforehand.

In the end…

This led to the current situation.

Deng Tianyou remained unconscious for nearly half an hour before finally waking up. Just as he moved, someone came to help him. “You’re awake. Does your head hurt?”

The wound on his forehead had already been treated and bandaged. Focusing his vision, Deng Tianyou found himself face-to-face with a delicate and handsome young man. “You are…”

“My husband,” Qin Zhao answered.

It was only then that Deng Tianyou noticed Qin Zhao, also in the room.

This was a guest room in Qin Zhao’s home. Deng Tianyou lay on the bed, while Qin Zhao sat by his side. A small table beside him held gauze and medicinal ointments, presumably used for treating the injury.

“Your Highness, I… what happened to me…?” Deng Tianyou, a man of refined manners, immediately tried to sit up upon understanding his situation, but the young man gently pressed him back down, saying with concern, “Don’t move yet. Are you feeling dizzy?”

“I…” Deng Tianyou felt a bit dazed and finally remembered to ask, “What happened to me? How did I lose consciousness?”

He raised a hand to touch the still-aching spot on his forehead and asked in confusion, “Did I… get hurt?”

Jing Li nervously glanced at Qin Zhao.

Clearing his throat, Qin Zhao calmly replied, “You fell.”

“…What?” Deng Tianyou blinked in disbelief.

Qin Zhao said, “Indeed, you fell. My husband brought you back.”

His expression was perfectly serious, and Deng Tianyou believed him without question. He immediately sat up and bowed toward Jing Li. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Jing Li: “…”

It was the first time he had been addressed that way, and he wasn’t used to it at all. His response came out awkward and stammered, “N-no problem.”

In contrast, Qin Zhao showed no hint of guilt for his white lie, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor. “You can’t stay here long. Let’s get to the main topic.”

“Yes,” Deng Tianyou replied.

Qin Zhao led Deng Tianyou to the table, where they began to talk in detail. Jing Li had nothing to contribute to the conversation but didn’t want to leave, so he busied himself pouring tea and serving water.

Qin Zhao glanced at him and let him be.

“When did you return to the capital? Have you been to the palace yet?” Qin Zhao asked.

“I returned early yesterday morning and entered the palace at midday,” Deng Tianyou replied.

“Did you see His Majesty?”

Deng Tianyou shook his head. “All state affairs are now managed by the Empress Dowager. When I inquired about His Majesty, I was told that his health is too frail for visitors.”

After a brief pause, he added, “However, I heard the Ministry of Rites is already preparing for the year-end ancestral rites.”

“Oh?” Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow. “When is it scheduled?”

“December 16th.”

This was news to Qin Zhao.

Although he had an intelligence network in the capital, its efficiency couldn’t compare to a high-ranking official like Deng Tianyou, who operated within the court.

It was now late November, leaving them over half a month—ample time for planning.

Qin Zhao said, “I want to meet His Majesty. I’ll need your help.”

“During the ancestral rites?”

“No,” Qin Zhao replied. “The ancestral ceremony requires His Majesty to appear in person, and the ancestral temple is some distance from the capital, taking at least three days for the round trip. During those three days, find me an opportunity to meet him.”

Deng Tianyou hesitated for a moment but ultimately nodded. “Understood.”

Qin Zhao then asked about various details concerning recent court affairs, which Deng Tianyou answered meticulously, speaking with grace and precision.

Jing Li watched him with interest.

Deng Tianyou, who had become the top scorer in the imperial examination at eighteen, had served under Qin Zhao ever since, effectively making him half a disciple. His demeanor, decision-making, and mannerisms were heavily influenced by Qin Zhao.

However, he lacked Qin Zhao’s natural poise and confidence, likely due to differences in their backgrounds.

Observing Deng Tianyou, Jing Li grew even more curious about the young emperor, who had been raised and guided by Qin Zhao for seven years. What kind of person was he?

Jing Li’s mind began to wander and he didn’t catch the rest of their conversation. Before long, Deng Tianyou rose to leave, exiting through the back gate just as he had arrived.

Qin Zhao saw him out and turned back, only to find himself suddenly hugged around the legs by a soft little figure.

The little fry, who had been quietly playing in the courtyard while the adults talked, finally popped out to make his presence known.

Jing Li noticed the child’s empty hands and suddenly remembered something. “Where’s my candied hawthorn?”

The little fry ducked behind Qin Zhao. “It got eaten.”

“Who ate it?” Jing Li pulled the little one out from behind Qin Zhao, mimicking his tone. “Didn’t your daddy tell you to hold onto it for me?”

The little fry blinked innocently and said, “But Daddy didn’t say I couldn’t eat it.”

“…” Jing Li was at a loss for words.

Grabbing the little fry by the collar, Jing Li looked up at Qin Zhao and said, “See what a bad influence you’ve been? Even your son is learning your tricks.”

Qin Zhao didn’t see how he was at fault, but he knew better than to argue in situations like this. Husbands were meant to be coaxed, not reasoned with. He nodded and said, “My fault. I’ll get you another one later—no, two.”

Jing Li, satisfied, agreed. “Deal!”

The two of them took the child back inside.

Jing Li soon forgot about the candied hawthorn and happily resumed squabbling with the little fry over pastries.

His parenting style was truly unique. While most parents saved the best for their children, Jing Li wasn’t one to let himself suffer. When the little fry was very young, Jing Li would secretly eat part of his treats. Back then, the little one didn’t understand why a big piece of pastry would somehow shrink by the time he got to it.

Now that the little fry was smarter and had caught him in the act several times, Jing Li simply started openly competing with him for food.

This often made Qin Zhao feel like he was raising two children.

“So, you were planning all along to use Deng Tianyou to meet the young emperor? I don’t quite understand—why is he helping you?” Jing Li asked, thinking back to earlier.

Perhaps because Deng Tianyou was a high-ranking official, Jing Li instinctively distrusted him.

Even if his demeanor resembled Qin Zhao’s, as a protégé of the Prince Regent, Deng Tianyou had quickly turned against his mentor when the prince fell from power. Now, he was trusted and employed by the court. Was someone like that really worth trusting?

Qin Zhao could guess what was on his mind and explained, “There are many people in the court I could use to get what I want. But do you know why I chose Deng Tianyou and Xiao Yue?”

“Because one holds office and the other has military power?”

“No.” Qin Zhao shook his head. “Deng Tianyou and Xiao Yue are fundamentally different people, but they share one thing in common: each has an unshakable conviction.”

Jing Li still didn’t quite understand.

Qin Zhao continued, “The Xiao family has been generals for generations, making significant contributions to the empire. Their ancestors fought alongside the founding emperor, and the Qi clan owes them a great debt. Xiao Yue himself is said to be unruly and unyielding. In his heart, he cares about two things.”

“The peace and prosperity of the Xiao family and the preservation of the Qi dynasty.”

As long as the throne remained in Qi hands, Xiao Yue didn’t care who sat on it.

“Deng Tianyou is even simpler,” Qin Zhao said. “He was born into poverty and is solely devoted to improving the lives of the people. He values the safety and well-being of the commoners more than his reverence for authority. That’s also why he and I had disagreements in the past.”

“I couldn’t tell…”

Deng Tianyou, with his scholarly demeanor, didn’t seem like someone with such a fiery conviction. Jing Li had never expected him to have such resolve.

Qin Zhao smiled. “Someone like him wouldn’t last three days under a tyrant.”

“But if he’s really like that, why would he help you?” Jing Li still couldn’t understand.

Even if Deng Tianyou didn’t fear imperial authority, it didn’t mean he’d casually betray it.

“Because I told him the truth—that my poisoning had hidden motives and that the Empress Dowager might be plotting to seize power,” Qin Zhao said calmly.

“What?” Jing Li froze. “How do you know the Empress Dowager…”

“I don’t,” Qin Zhao replied.

Jing Li stared at him, dumbfounded, before slowly realizing the truth from Qin Zhao’s expression.

He didn’t… just make that up to convince Deng Tianyou, did he?

Qin Zhao let out a leisurely sigh. “Unlike that blockhead Xiao Yue, Deng Tianyou is a thinker. I had to give him a plausible reason to persuade him.”

Jing Li: “…”

It was the first time he’d seen someone so confidently deceive another while claiming they lacked intelligence!

But honestly, it made sense. If Deng Tianyou were truly sharp, he wouldn’t have fallen so thoroughly into Qin Zhao’s trap.

Wasn’t this just the type of person who’d count money for someone who sold them out?

Some people were just too sincere.

Jing Li’s expression became a little dazed, and he asked, “But what if you’re wrong? If this has nothing to do with the Empress Dowager, won’t Deng Tianyou find out the truth?”

“And so what?” Qin Zhao countered.

Indeed, so what?

That night in Jiangling, if Deng Tianyou hadn’t agreed to help him, Qin Zhao might not have made it out alive. Even if the truth turned out to contradict his claims, what would he have to fear?

Deng Tianyou was only a civil official. He posed no real threat to Qin Zhao.

Understanding this, Jing Li fell silent.

This man had clearly been strategizing far more than he had let on.

No wonder the doctor had said he overthought everything.

“Do you think I’ve been too harsh on Deng Tianyou?” Qin Zhao asked, noticing Jing Li’s troubled expression. He quickly added, “But judging by how things are shaping up, my guess was likely correct. Something must have happened to His Majesty, and it’s probably tied to the Empress Dowager. So, in a way… I’m not entirely lying to him.”

These words were meant to comfort Jing Li, but in truth, Qin Zhao had been spinning half-truths and half-speculations. Only after His Majesty’s illness and retreat to the rear palace had his conjectures begun to solidify.

Jing Li, however, wasn’t focused on the same thing. Qin Zhao’s reassurance didn’t matter to him.

He said, “If you want to know what’s happening with the young emperor, I can help.”

“You can help?” Qin Zhao looked at him skeptically.

Jing Li nodded. “I’ve checked the area over the past few days. The moat runs directly into the palace. I can sneak in and see what the emperor is doing.”

Qin Zhao: “…”

“What’s so funny?” Jing Li asked, annoyed. “I’m serious!”

He wasn’t joking. Ever since arriving in the capital, he’d been considering this possibility and had even scouted out the route while running errands.

He was certain the moat led straight to the palace.

“Alright, I understand,” Qin Zhao said, stifling a laugh and trying to maintain a serious tone. “Swimming into the palace might work, but do you know how big it is?”

Jing Li was momentarily speechless.

“There are over seventy halls and more than 9,000 rooms in the palace. Do you even know where the emperor resides?”

Jing Li fell silent again.

“Chances are, you’d get lost in the maze of the palace before you ever found the emperor,” Qin Zhao sighed dramatically. “And then I’d have no choice but to have Xiao Yue storm the gates to rescue you.”

Jing Li: “…”

Did Qin Zhao really think he was that clueless?

How infuriating.

With a huff, Jing Li decided to stop speaking to him.

Qin Zhao dropped the teasing and coaxed, “I know you’re worried about me and want to help, but I’ve already made plans for this. All you need to do is take care of yourself, and that’s enough.”

“…I know,” Jing Li muttered gloomily.

Having successfully dissuaded his husband from his “spy mission,” Qin Zhao felt relieved and took a sip of tea.

After pondering for a moment, Jing Li suddenly said, “Now that I think about it, with how good you are at lying, did you trick me back when we first met?”

Qin Zhao froze, his expression turning serious. “Of course not. I would never deceive you.”

“True,” Jing Li agreed without hesitation. “Before you regained your memory, you were honest and kind, completely incapable of lying.”

Qin Zhao simply smiled and nodded, not daring to say another word.

In this world, his dear husband might be the only one who believed him to be honest and kind.

Jing Li turned back to the table, only to find that while he’d been talking to Qin Zhao, two-thirds of the pastries had vanished. He snapped, “Qin Zhao, we agreed to split them evenly!”

He was so angry he used Qin Zhao’s full name.

The little fry, holding a piece of pastry and about to take a bite, looked at the pastry, then at Jing Li. After a moment of hesitation, he carefully broke it in half and held out one piece. “Half for you.”

Jing Li: “…”

The next day, Xiao Yue sent men disguised as coachmen to escort Qin Zhao and his family into the capital.

The inspections at the city gates were extremely strict. Imperial guards stood watch at the gates, creating a tense atmosphere.

Early in the morning, a long line of commoners had already formed, waiting to be inspected before entering the city.

As the carriage moved slowly forward, Jing Li, seemingly unable to sit still, repeatedly lifted the curtain to peek outside. Qin Zhao, noticing this for a while, finally spoke lazily as Jing Li prepared to lift the curtain again, “Stop looking. Are you afraid people won’t notice you?”

“…” Jing Li sheepishly withdrew his hand.

Qin Zhao said, “We’re here for the imperial exams. They won’t make things difficult for a scholar and his family.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Jing Li muttered, his eyes still darting toward the outside. In a low voice, he asked, “Are you sure no one will recognize you?”

This was the capital, where Qin Zhao had grown up. What if someone recognized him…

Qin Zhao countered, “If the current emperor changed into civilian clothes and stood in front of you, would you recognize him?”

Jing Li shook his head.

“Exactly.”

As it turned out, Jing Li’s worries were unnecessary.

The guards at the city gate inspected Qin Zhao’s documents, asked a few questions about why he was entering the city, how he had traveled, and the identities of the people with him. Qin Zhao answered them all calmly and was granted passage without any issues.

The process was so smooth it was almost uneventful.

Things were just that simple. Regardless of his past as the regent, how many common people had ever seen Qin Zhao’s true face?

After all, during his years in power, he frequently disguised himself to visit gambling houses and enjoy the nightlife—never once being recognized.

By the time they reached the residence prepared for them by Gu Changzhou, it was almost noon.

The residence was uninhabited, with only a single servant left behind to watch over the property.

“You must be Mr. Qin? We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” the servant said, quickly explaining, “Half a month ago, I received a letter from Master Gu instructing me to wait here for you. But why did you arrive a day late?”

“It rained in the mountains last night, making the roads slippery, so we stayed outside the city,” Qin Zhao replied.

The servant nodded understandingly. “Yes, it’s the rainy season in the capital. You should always carry an umbrella when you go out.”

As he spoke, he led Qin Zhao and his party into the residence.

The house was about the same size as the one Qin Zhao had lived in back in Jiangling, modest by capital standards, but it was in an excellent location.

This had been Qin Zhao’s specific request.

As a scholar supposedly here for the imperial exams, staying in a grand residence would draw unnecessary suspicion. In fact, being sent to the capital under the name of the Gu family patriarch and staying at his residence was already slightly conspicuous.

“If you head east from here, two streets down there’s a market where you can buy daily necessities. Heading north leads to the inner city, but keep in mind there’s a curfew in place. Make sure to return home before dark,” the servant explained, introducing the area.

Qin Zhao, who had grown up in the capital and knew it like the back of his hand, listened patiently. However, when the curfew was mentioned, he asked, “The guards have tightened security recently?”

The capital was the heart of the dynasty, known for its bustling nightlife. A curfew that required everyone to return home by dark was unusual.

“You noticed, didn’t you? The emperor is ill, and for the past two months, the city’s security has been strict. It’s made everyone on edge. Didn’t you see how many guards were at the gates when you entered?”

The servant glanced around cautiously, lowering his voice. “The emperor hasn’t attended court for months. They’re saying it’s due to a cold, but who believes that?”

Speaking ill of the court was technically a serious offense, but as the saying went, the law couldn’t punish everyone. Rumors like this had always been impossible to suppress.

Qin Zhao grew slightly interested and asked, “If it’s not just a cold, what do people think is the cause?”

“There are all kinds of rumors,” the servant said. “Some say the emperor has a strange illness, others claim he was poisoned, and some even say he’s being haunted by an evil spirit!”

Qin Zhao frowned instinctively. “An evil spirit?”

“The former regent, of course,” the servant said with a serious tone. “Who doesn’t know that the regent was a ruthless killer with a violent temperament? When the emperor ordered his execution, he didn’t even leave a memorial tablet, refusing to enshrine him in the ancestral temple. People say he’s come back as an evil spirit, seeking revenge on the emperor!”

Qin Zhao: “…”

Jing Li: “…”

Qin Zhao sighed, rubbing his temples in exasperation.

He should have known better than to take gossip seriously.

Still, he hadn’t expected that after all these years, the common people of the capital still regarded him as a monster.

The servant didn’t pay much attention to his reaction and continued, “Master Gu left a carriage for you to use. It’s parked in the back courtyard. The house has been cleaned, and all the necessities are in place. I live nearby, so if you need anything, feel free to let me know.”

Qin Zhao replied, “Understood. Thank you.”

After introducing the residence and its surroundings, the servant excused himself. Qin Zhao walked him to the door and watched as he left, his gaze lingering for a long time.

Meanwhile, Jing Li was helping Ah Qi unload their luggage from the carriage.

Jing Li still wasn’t used to treating Ah Qi as a servant. To him, Ah Qi felt more like an assistant than a subordinate.

After carrying one batch of luggage into the courtyard, Jing Li looked up to see Qin Zhao still standing in the same spot. Following his gaze, Jing Li turned his head.

The capital, as the dynasty’s grandest city, was breathtakingly prosperous and far beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

They weren’t even in the city’s core, yet the skyline was filled with tiled roofs and white walls. In the distance, a tall and imposing pavilion stood out.

“That’s the Zhaixing Tower,” Qin Zhao said. “It’s the tallest building in the imperial city. Whenever there’s a military victory or a major celebration, the emperor holds a banquet there.”

Before regaining his memories, that tower had appeared countless times in Qin Zhao’s dreams.

At the time, he hadn’t understood its significance. But thinking about it now, it likely represented his early perception of power.

A towering structure reaching a hundred feet high, one could pluck the stars from the sky.

“Zhaixing Tower…” Jing Li muttered. “It’s not even that tall. How dare they call it ‘Plucking Stars’? The view from the mountaintop near Linxi Village is much better, and you don’t have all these buildings ruining the scenery.”

The little fry overheard and imitated them by craning his neck. “Stars… Baby wants to see the stars too!”

The little one’s balance gave way as he looked up, and he almost fell on his bottom. Qin Zhao caught him just in time.

With a laugh, Qin Zhao said, “You’re right—there are far better places to enjoy the view.”

Jing Li hummed in agreement and changed the subject. “Are you hungry? It’s too late to cook now. I saw a few restaurants on the way. Should I go buy something?”

“Speaking of food…” Qin Zhao seemed thoughtful. “There’s a place nearby that I used to like.”

“Really?” Jing Li’s eyes lit up. “Where?”

A short while later, the family stood in front of a small noodle shop.

The shop was tucked at the corner of an alley. It was old and run-down, with mediocre business. Despite being lunchtime, the shop was noisy but not bustling. Inside, two attendants scurried about serving customers.

“This is the place you like?” Jing Li asked, surprised.

Qin Zhao rarely expressed any particular fondness for food, so when he mentioned “liking” a place, Jing Li had expected some uniquely refined establishment.

It was more… ordinary than expected.

“Yes, I’ve been eating the noodle soup here since I was a child,” Qin Zhao said as he led Jing Li inside.

They found a quiet corner to sit, and soon a waiter approached with tea. “What will you have, honored guests?”

“Three bowls of lamb soup noodles, four flatbreads, less oil, less spice, and extra scallions,” Qin Zhao ordered smoothly.

“Got it.” The waiter poured three cups of tea and smiled. “You seem like a regular.”

“It’s been a while since I last came,” Qin Zhao said. “Are you related to Boss Zhao?”

“He’s my father,” the waiter explained. “His legs aren’t in great shape, so he’s been resting at home. My brother and I have been running the shop for the past year. Don’t worry, though—the flavor hasn’t changed!”

The waiter left to serve other customers, and soon, three steaming bowls of lamb soup noodles were brought to their table.

The broth, made from lamb bones, was clear and rich, with a few glistening drops of oil floating on the surface. The aroma was savory and inviting. Perhaps because Qin Zhao had been recognized as a regular, the portions were noticeably generous.

The slightly chilly weather made the hot soup even more comforting, warming them from head to toe.

But when it came to the taste…

Maybe it was because the anticipation had been too high, but the noodles weren’t anything exceptional. In fact, they were rather plain. Jing Li glanced at Qin Zhao, who, after taking a sip of the soup, furrowed his brow slightly.

“His father’s cooking was better,” Qin Zhao said with a hint of regret.

Jing Li blinked.

He knew there were undoubtedly better options in the capital. Qin Zhao had chosen this place not for the food but for the memories it held.

Qin Zhao was sharing a piece of his past with him.

Still, even a simple roadside noodle shop couldn’t escape the passage of time.

Jing Li felt a pang of nostalgia.

Only the little fry seemed entirely unbothered. Holding a small wooden bowl Qin Zhao had specially requested, he carefully scooped up broken pieces of noodles that Ah Qi had cut for him, eating with such dedication that his cheeks puffed out like a little squirrel’s.

---

Qin Zhao and Jing Li settled into their life in the capital.

The next two weeks felt much like their days preparing for the exams in Jiangling. Qin Zhao read daily, occasionally taking Jing Li and the little fry out for walks when the weather permitted.

The calm made Jing Li feel somewhat uneasy.

It wasn’t… quite what he’d expected.

“What were you expecting? Intrigue, schemes, and bloodshed?” Qin Zhao asked with a wry smile after hearing Jing Li’s thoughts. “Isn’t peace better?”

“Of course,” Jing Li replied. “But it feels like we’re not making any progress here.”

Even during these tranquil days, Jing Li couldn’t shake a sense of unease. As long as the matter remained unresolved, Qin Zhao was at risk of being exposed. He couldn’t bring himself to be as composed about it as Qin Zhao seemed to be.

The contradiction gnawed at him.

He wished for the peace to last, that Qin Zhao would stay safe and avoid trouble. Yet, at the same time, he hoped for swift resolution so they could move past this looming threat.

The internal struggle left Jing Li restless, so he decided to distract himself by taking the little fry out to run errands.

By mid-October, the capital had turned noticeably colder. Qin Zhao, falling ill during this period, had cut back on outings.

But Jing Li couldn’t sit still.

When idle, his thoughts tended to spiral, so he took on most of the household tasks, including running errands.

After two weeks, Jing Li was well-acquainted with the neighborhood.

On this particular day, father and son had finished their shopping at the market, bought some pastries at the street corner, and were now heading home with a stick of candied hawthorn in hand.

Both of them were dressed in identical bright red jackets, embroidered on the back with lifelike koi fish—one large, one small, as if cut from the same mold. The sight was undeniably endearing.

As Jing Li held the little fry’s hand and walked toward their home, he noticed a figure slipping furtively into the alley beside their house.

Jing Li frowned and instinctively tightened his grip on the little fry.

That alley… led directly to their backyard and was a dead end.

After dinner, the little fry grew tired from playing, so Jing Li took him back to the tent to sleep.

Qin Zhao, however, went back to Xiao Yue’s tent.

“Now that it’s just the two of us, can we speak openly?” Qin Zhao asked bluntly as he took the main seat without ceremony. “Did something happen in the capital?”

Xiao Yue didn’t argue and sat down on a nearby military cot. “The young emperor hasn’t attended court for two months.”

Qin Zhao nodded. “I know. It’s said he’s gravely ill and recuperating in the inner palace.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No.”

Xiao Yue sighed, his expression growing heavier. “Doesn’t this all feel familiar to you?”

It started with the emperor falling gravely ill, entrusting the governance of the court to trusted officials. Over time, the acting regents grew ambitious, forming alliances to consolidate their power.

This was exactly how the Empress’s faction had gradually dominated the court during the late emperor’s reign.

“And now it’s the Empress Dowager who has taken over,” Qin Zhao said slowly. “Recycling old tricks?”

“That’s my suspicion as well,” Xiao Yue replied. “Otherwise, why do you think I brought these few hundred men? Did you think I needed them just to help you with a trivial matter?”

Qin Zhao quipped, “I don’t mind having more people.”

Xiao Yue: “…”

“If I brought any more, this hiding spot would be blown! Besides, what do you even need so many people for? You’re not actually planning a rebellion,” Xiao Yue spat. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You just want to make sure that if things go south, I’ll be there to protect your husband and child, right?”

“If I really got involved in such chaos, they’d go after my weak spots first,” Qin Zhao replied calmly. “I’ve learned that lesson well, which is why I came to you in the first place.”

Thinking about it, Xiao Yue felt annoyed. “I’m the mighty Grand General of National Defense, sneaking back from the border, only to be ordered around by your guards. How am I supposed to face anyone if word gets out?”

“Wrong. You’re employed by me,” Qin Zhao corrected. “Didn’t I promise you that estate outside the city?”

At the mention of the estate, Xiao Yue’s mood lightened slightly. “Still not sure if I can even get it back…”

Xiao Yue then asked, “So, are you going to tell me now? What’s your plan?”

“I want to find a way to meet the young emperor,” Qin Zhao replied.

“How?” Xiao Yue asked. “He’s withdrawn to the inner palace. Even I might not be able to see him. How will you?”

Qin Zhao appeared to have already thought this through. “Hasn’t it been three years since the emperor last visited the ancestral temple for the annual rites?”

According to tradition, the emperor was required to visit the ancestral temple in the suburbs of the capital every three years. It had been exactly three years since the last visit.

Xiao Yue smacked his forehead. “How did I forget about that?”

The ancestral rites were a significant national event, requiring the emperor’s personal attendance. However, there was a possibility the event could be postponed if the emperor was truly bedridden.

“I don’t think it will be,” Qin Zhao said. “The emperor hasn’t appeared in public for two months, which must have already caused doubts among the court officials. Whether the illness is real or fake, or there’s some hidden agenda, he’ll need to show himself to restore confidence—even if only to confirm that he’s gravely ill.”

Xiao Yue understood.

If even someone like him, stationed at the border, knew about the emperor’s absence, the court ministers in the capital must be deeply uneasy. Whether the emperor was truly incapacitated or it was part of a larger scheme, he would need to make a public appearance soon.

The ancestral rites presented the perfect opportunity.

Still, Xiao Yue hesitated. “Do you really think that just meeting the young emperor will resolve everything?”

“What I mean is…” He paused before continuing. “If it turns out that the events of that year were orchestrated by the young emperor himself, what will you do? Regicide?”

Qin Zhao didn’t rush to answer.

The late autumn in the capital was already bitterly cold, and every tent had a brazier burning inside. Qin Zhao stretched his hands toward the fire, the faint flicker of flames casting light on his finely sculpted features.

After a while, he asked softly, “Do you think the current young emperor is fit to rule?”

He still remembered when the young emperor first ascended the throne, Xiao Yue had dismissed the boy with disdain.

Xiao Yue thought for a moment before speaking frankly. “Weak-willed and lacking authority, but he hasn’t done anything particularly wrong. Except…”

Except for targeting Qin Zhao.

If it were true that the young emperor had plotted against Qin Zhao, then that would likely be the gravest mistake of his reign.

For a monarch, being soft-hearted wasn’t inherently a fault. But if he couldn’t employ capable advisors and was plagued by paranoia, it would be catastrophic for his ministers.

Xiao Yue’s initial hostility toward Prince Rong stemmed from his fear that the regent would undermine imperial power. Yet, it was clear now that Qin Zhao had no such intention. As someone who had nurtured the young emperor’s education, he should have understood this better than anyone.

Even so, he still chose to discard Qin Zhao like a spent arrow after the hunt.

How could such a ruler inspire loyalty?

If he could betray a mentor who had taught him and been unwaveringly loyal to the court, what hope did outsiders like Xiao Yue have?

Xiao Yue had always been aware of these issues but never dared to dwell on them.

Because if the young emperor was truly like this, Xiao Yue would be the one most at risk.

After all, there were already signs that the emperor wanted to strip him of his military authority.

Qin Zhao’s one question had unleashed a flood of thoughts in Xiao Yue’s mind. If his fears were true, there seemed to be only one path forward if he returned to the capital…

To raise an army in self-defense.

The moment this thought surfaced, cold sweat drenched Xiao Yue’s back. He raised his head to look at Qin Zhao, who was sitting by the table.

But the other man was merely warming his hands by the fire, quiet and calm.

Had this man foreseen everything?

Had he already calculated that if the young emperor truly stood against him, Xiao Yue’s only choice would be to join him in rebellion?

By then, it wouldn’t be Xiao Yue helping Qin Zhao but rather Qin Zhao helping Xiao Yue.

…How terrifying.

“Damn it, I think I’ve boarded your pirate ship,” Xiao Yue muttered, taking a deep breath and rubbing his face vigorously. “You conniving bastard, have you been scheming this since six months ago?”

Qin Zhao smiled faintly but didn’t deny it.

Nor did he offer a rebuttal.

Xiao Yue felt a chill run through him. This man seemed more restrained than before, even harder to read. The trials of these past years appeared to have changed him in many ways, yet Xiao Yue suddenly realized that, at his core, Qin Zhao had never truly changed.

He was still the calculating, commanding regent, Qin Shu, who held life and death in his hands.

Perhaps sensing Xiao Yue’s turmoil, Qin Zhao said, “I’ve looked into it. Among the imperial family’s collateral branches, there are a few promising young talents. With proper guidance, they could grow into capable leaders.”

“Shut up.”

Xiao Yue groaned, covering his face with both hands. “If I dare rebel, my father will break my legs and cast me out of the family. I don’t want to entertain this possibility, so stop talking about it.”

“There’s no helping it,” Qin Zhao said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “The old general will surely understand.”

When Qin Zhao spoke, his tone remained light, as if he and Xiao Yue were merely having casual post-meal chatter rather than discussing something as grave as rebellion and regicide.

Qin Zhao said, “Besides, isn’t that what I’m here for? You only need to lend me your men—you don’t need to get involved personally.”

“You’re making it sound more and more real!” Xiao Yue finally lost his temper and scolded, “In any case, everything will depend on what happens when we meet the young emperor. Let’s hope that brat has some backbone. Seriously, how can you be so cold-blooded? That boy was practically raised by you, and yet you’ve already planned your escape route after potentially killing him… Does your husband know how ruthless you are?”

Qin Zhao stared at the brazier, not even looking up. “If I were truly ruthless, I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to come to the capital.”

If he were truly ruthless, he could have laid his cards on the table during his first meeting with Xiao Yue. He wouldn’t have needed to gather evidence or prove anything—he could have taken the throne outright.

But he didn’t want to believe it.

In the firelight, Qin Zhao’s voice remained calm. “Because I still hold onto a sliver of hope, I’m willing to give him a chance—to face me directly. But if he truly seeks to eliminate me, then it doesn’t matter who sits on the throne.”

When Qin Zhao left Xiao Yue’s tent, it was already late at night.

The campfires were dimming, and only a few soldiers on night watch remained by the flames, dozing off. Qin Zhao glanced back at the dark mountains in the distance. The woods on either side were pitch black and silent, but he knew that countless eyes in the shadows were vigilantly guarding the camp.

The Grand General of National Defense’s personal guards might not be adept at kidnapping, but they were certainly skilled at protecting people.

Qin Zhao pulled his cloak tighter and headed toward a smaller tent nearby.

Inside, the brazier was still glowing.

As soon as he stepped in, a figure rushed toward him, bringing with it the warm air of the tent and crashing into his arms.

“Slow down,” Qin Zhao said softly. “Why aren’t you asleep yet? Is the little one already asleep?”

“Of course, he’s been asleep for ages,” Jing Li replied, snuggling against Qin Zhao and noticing how cold he felt. Quickly, he pulled him further inside. “Come sit by the fire—you’re freezing!”

The brazier in this tent was twice the size of those in other places, making the interior warm and almost summery—likely due to Jing Li’s special request.

Jing Li helped Qin Zhao remove his heavy cloak and guided him to sit by the brazier. Then, he busied himself pouring hot water.

“It’s too late for tea, so just have some warm water,” Jing Li said, placing the cup in Qin Zhao’s hands. “Are you hungry? Someone brought over some fruit earlier.”

“…Not hungry. Sit down,” Qin Zhao said, pulling Jing Li back to his side with a touch of helplessness. “If I need anything, I can take care of it myself. You’re running around so much you’ll wake the child, and that’ll be a hassle.”

Jing Li let out a small “Oh” and finally stopped bustling about.

The brazier was right next to the military cot. Qin Zhao and Jing Li sat on wooden stools by the fire, and from where they were, they could see the little one soundly asleep on the bed.

After a while, Jing Li asked, “How did the talk go?”

“Not bad. Don’t worry,” Qin Zhao replied. “Xiao Yue is just concerned about the emperor and wanted to discuss what to do next.”

Jing Li nodded, then asked, “Are we heading into the city tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Qin Zhao replied. “Xiao Yue is in the capital secretly and can’t show himself publicly. Staying here doesn’t help. Things will be easier to handle in the city. Have you heard the saying, ‘The greatest concealment lies in the marketplace’?”

“Of course I’ve heard of it,” Jing Li said with a smile.

Jing Li leaned on Qin Zhao’s shoulder, speaking softly, “I just wonder when all of this will finally be resolved.”

Qin Zhao wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, gently ruffling his hair. “You were scared today, weren’t you?”

Jing Li pursed his lips. “Not at all.”

“You’re lying,” Qin Zhao said with a warm tone. “Did I ever tell you how I reacted the first time I encountered something like this?”

“Huh?” Jing Li blinked and shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“I was terrified,” Qin Zhao said. “Back then, I wasn’t even ten years old. On a trip outside, we ran into some bandits who had a grudge against my father. They wanted to capture me to get revenge.”

“That was the first time someone held a blade to my neck. I was so scared I couldn’t even speak, shaking from head to toe.”

Jing Li asked nervously, “What happened after that?”

“My father’s shadow guards arrived and killed them. I was unharmed,” Qin Zhao replied. “After that, I began training my own shadow guards and learned some self-defense skills.”

His tone was calm as he recounted the story, but Jing Li could imagine how terrified a child under ten must have been going through such an ordeal.

Noticing Jing Li’s mood shift, Qin Zhao reassured him, “That’s why I’m used to it now. Over the years, there have been too many attempts on my life, both in the open and in secret. If I weren’t cautious, I wouldn’t still be alive.”

Jing Li shook off his melancholic thoughts and half-joked, “You say you’re cautious, but didn’t you get poisoned once without even realizing it? I don’t understand how, with so many guards around you and not even being in the capital at the time, someone managed to poison you.”

“Who knows,” Qin Zhao said, his tone enigmatic.

This matter had come up between them many times, but the answer remained elusive. The Chenhuan Powder he had ingested wasn’t a poison, which meant even his guards couldn’t detect it. Yet the symptoms he exhibited could only result from a significant intake of the drug. How had it been administered without him noticing?

If it wasn’t a one-time event, it had to be a prolonged scheme. But Qin Zhao had never shown signs of addiction to Chenhuan Powder.

The truth of this mystery would likely only be uncovered when they found the culprit.

Qin Zhao shook off the thought and turned his attention back to comforting his little husband. “I’m telling you this to show that it’s okay to be afraid. You were braver than I was back then. Don’t overthink it.”

“I know,” Jing Li said after a pause, then admitted, “Actually, I was a little scared.”

It was his first time encountering such a situation. No amount of mental preparation could shield him from the panic and fear in the moment.

Especially with the little fry beside him at the time.

Qin Zhao turned and placed a light kiss on Jing Li’s lips. “That’s why I’m here to comfort you. Don’t worry. Whether it’s real or fake, I won’t let it happen again.”

The kiss was quick and fleeting, like a dragonfly skimming the water. Jing Li, unsatisfied, murmured, “That’s not enough.”

“What?”

“That kind of comfort doesn’t feel very sincere,” Jing Li said, his eyes darting away. “It’s too casual.”

Qin Zhao understood. Pulling him closer, he kissed him deeply.

A moment later, Jing Li pushed him away. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Slightly breathless, Jing Li took a couple of deep breaths before saying, “Go rest. If you wake the little fry, it’ll be troublesome.”

Qin Zhao, still wanting more, sighed. “At times like this, having that little guy in bed with us really gets in the way.”

It made certain things far less convenient.

Just as he finished speaking, he looked up to meet a pair of wide, dark, innocent eyes.

The little fry had most of his face wrapped in the blanket, with only his big, curious eyes peeking out. He blinked, looking both clueless and amused. It was unclear how long he had been watching.

Qin Zhao: “…”

What happened? Wasn’t he just asleep a moment ago?

Jing Li’s voice trembled. “Why… why are you awake? Your daddy and I were just… talking about serious matters. How much did you hear?”

The little fry beamed. “Everything!”

Jing Li: “…”

Qin Zhao listened to those words and fell silent for a moment before responding unhurriedly, “I’m in poor health and can’t get wet in the rain. I’m afraid I can’t help.”

The coachman was taken aback by his reply and blurted out, “Just need one person to help out. Is your entire family in poor health?”

Qin Zhao nodded seriously with a straight face. “Yes.”

Jing Li couldn’t hold back: “Pfft.”

The rain outside was heavy, so the coachman didn’t hear Jing Li’s reaction. He continued to persuade, “If worse comes to worst, how about you all wait outside for a bit? With so many people in the carriage, it’s really hard for the horses to pull. The sky’s already dark. If we stay stuck here, it’ll waste your time too, won’t it?”

Qin Zhao remained seated, steady as a mountain. “I don’t mind wasting time.”

The coachman: “…”

“Still haven’t woken him up?” A peddler-looking man, who had been tugging at the horses up front, shouted back impatiently when he noticed the delay. “I didn’t use that much of the medicine! How is he sleeping so soundly?”

Just as he walked over, his gaze met Qin Zhao’s. The atmosphere instantly grew awkward.

The coachman spat in annoyance, then kicked the peddler into the mud. “You brat! Always causing trouble. I should’ve never brought you along!”

After venting, he turned back to Qin Zhao, forcing a smile and speaking with surprising politeness, “Sir, don’t listen to his nonsense. There’s been a misunderstanding here. How about you step out of the carriage first? We’ll get it unstuck and explain as we go?”

“In such a hurry?” Qin Zhao smiled faintly. “And if I don’t feel like leaving?”

The coachman’s smile froze. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said.” Qin Zhao replied calmly. “If anyone’s worried about being delayed, it should be you, not me.”

The coachman said nothing.

He had been standing in the rain for a long time, water dripping from his straw raincoat. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating his rugged features, now dark and menacing.

But Qin Zhao didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze steadily.

After a moment, the coachman wiped the rain off his face and sighed. “Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be easy to deal with.”

He straightened his previously hunched back, cupped his hands in a formal salute, and said solemnly, “Subordinate Sun Mengyi pays his respects to His Highness and congratulates you on your return to the capital.”

In an instant, his demeanor changed completely.

Qin Zhao responded coolly, “This doesn’t seem like much of a congratulatory gift.”

“Well…” Sun Mengyi hesitated for a moment, scratching his nose. “I beg Your Highness for forgiveness.”

Jing Li, who had been listening the entire time, grew more confused the longer he listened.

So… they’re not enemies?

Are they Qin Zhao’s former subordinates?

Jing Li turned to Qin Zhao. “You know them?”

“No.” Qin Zhao glanced at Sun Mengyi and added, “But I can roughly guess who sent them.”

Jing Li asked, “Who?”

Qin Zhao answered, “Xiao Yue.”

The person in question was none other than the Grand General of National Defense, Xiao Yue, who had once been a guest at Qin Zhao’s home. The two had always been at odds.

Although Jing Li had only met Xiao Yue once, nearly a year ago, the man’s distinctive appearance and commanding aura left a lasting impression.

When Xiao Yue visited Qin Zhao’s home, Jing Li had already suspected that his identity was far from ordinary. Recently, when Qin Zhao was revealing the truth to Jing Li, he explained this matter as well.

Still, Jing Li didn’t understand and muttered, “Has Xiao Yue got nothing better to do? Why would he send people to capture us?”

“Cough, cough…” Sun Mengyi, caught off guard, accidentally choked on some rainwater.

Qin Zhao held back a laugh and said quietly, “Who knows? When you see him, you can ask him yourself.”

Qin Zhao’s remark made the two standing by the carriage a little embarrassed. The man dressed as a peddler stepped in to smooth things over. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. This is Deputy General Sun under General Xiao. My surname is Geng, fourth in my family. Your Highness may simply call me Geng Si.”

“It’s true that General Xiao sent Old Sun and me to welcome Your Highness today.”

The rain, which had come so suddenly, began to subside just as quickly.

Qin Zhao and Jing Li stepped out of the carriage, and in an unusual act of kindness, Qin Zhao allowed Ah Qi to help push the carriage, finally freeing it from the mud.

As they worked, Jing Li quietly asked, “Why do you seem completely unsurprised?”

“Surprised about what?” Qin Zhao asked in return.

“Xiao Yue,” Jing Li said. “Isn’t he stationed at the border? Why would he suddenly appear here?”

“I wrote to him,” Qin Zhao replied matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“The day before we left, I sent him a letter,” Qin Zhao explained. “Judging by the timing, he should have arrived a few days before us.”

Jing Li blinked.

He was still puzzled, but Qin Zhao showed no intention of elaborating further.

Qin Zhao had mentioned that Xiao Yue had once promised to help him. But what exactly he needed help with and how Xiao Yue would assist him, Qin Zhao hadn’t said.

That day, Qin Zhao had shared too much information at once. Jing Li couldn’t process it all at the time, so he hadn’t paid much attention to that part. Now, thinking back, it struck him as odd.

The truth about what happened back then remained unclear. However, any investigation would have to start with the emperor.

Yet, according to Qin Zhao, Xiao Yue’s family was staunchly loyal to the imperial authority. Why, then, would Xiao Yue be willing to help Qin Zhao investigate the emperor?

Jing Li didn’t ask further questions.

He didn’t want to wait for Qin Zhao to explain everything. That would make him seem foolish and incompetent.

But if he had to figure it out on his own…

Holding the little fry, Jing Li furrowed his brows in frustration.

…He couldn’t think of anything.

This is so hard.

Ultimately, Jing Li failed to come up with an answer. Deputy General Sun approached them. “Your Highness, the carriage is ready. Shall we set off?”

Qin Zhao nodded. “Let’s go.”

On the next leg of their journey, Sun Mengyi no longer drove the carriage but instead rode inside with Qin Zhao and the others.

Previously, he had pretended to be the coachman, but now that his identity was revealed, it made no sense to leave him outside. Accompanying them was the proper way to show respect to a guest.

After the brief turmoil, Jing Li was wide awake and sat properly, straight as a rod. The little fish fry was also fully awake, babbling insistently at Qin Zhao to let him see the scenery outside.

Sun Mengyi observed this seemingly carefree family and grew increasingly perplexed.

Earlier, they had discreetly used a mild sedative inside the carriage to ensure their plan went smoothly. Though the dosage was minimal, how could it have no effect whatsoever—not even on a child who looked no older than one?

Sun Mengyi’s curiosity was unbearable, but he didn’t dare question the enigmatic former regent directly. Instead, he cast furtive glances at the incense burner in the corner of the carriage.

“Don’t bother looking; the incense burner isn’t the issue,” Qin Zhao said, catching him in the act.

“…” Sun Mengyi, caught red-handed, awkwardly scratched his nose and offered an apologetic smile. “It seems Your Highness already knew.”

Qin Zhao didn’t hide it. “Over the years, I’ve become highly sensitive to the scent of drugs and poisons.”

Having spent years on medication and delving deeply into medical principles, Qin Zhao could now identify most drugs and poisons by scent alone. Detecting such a common sedative was effortless.

Seizing the opportunity, Sun Mengyi asked his burning question. “Then how did Your Highness neutralize it?”

Qin Zhao gestured to a pouch hanging at his waist. “This sachet contains various herbs that repel snakes and insects, clear the mind, and detoxify.”

The formula was one Qin Zhao had recently concocted. Before departing, he had taken advantage of a wedding banquet to have Elder Xue review it. Only after confirming its efficacy did he prepare one for everyone to wear.

With these sachets, ordinary sedatives posed no threat to them.

“I see,” Sun Mengyi marveled. “As expected of Prince Rong.”

Roughly half an hour later, the carriage came to a halt.

When they disembarked, Jing Li realized they were not in the capital but in a remote mountain ravine.

Before them was an open space with dozens of military tents of various sizes, each illuminated by campfires. However, due to the terrain and the surrounding forest, no light could be seen from outside the ravine, even at night.

“This is General Xiao’s temporary encampment,” Sun Mengyi said as he led Qin Zhao into the camp.

Qin Zhao glanced around briefly before nodding. “Easily defensible, highly concealed. Truly worthy of General Xiao. If one were to launch an attack on the capital from here, the imperial guards would be caught completely off guard.”

Sun Mengyi opened his mouth, so startled that he forgot what he was going to say. “…”

“Spare me your nonsense!” a voice snapped as Xiao Yue strode out, clad in light armor and plain robes.

Having received word of their arrival as soon as they entered the ravine, Xiao Yue had intended to greet them. Instead, he overheard Qin Zhao’s outrageous remark as he stepped out.

Xiao Yue spat angrily. “I’ve brought no more than a hundred personal guards this time. I’ve no intention of aiding your rebellion—don’t drag my brothers into this!”

Qin Zhao stroked his chin thoughtfully. “If I were to lead the troops, a hundred personal guards should suffice to overthrow the young emperor.”

“…” For a moment, Xiao Yue couldn’t tell whether he was joking or serious.

Jing Li, holding the little fry, watched the scene unfold with great interest.

Xiao Yue, ever the accomplished young general, looked even more commanding in armor than when they had last met in Jiangling, making it hard for anyone to meet his gaze directly.

However, this only made the sight of him being rendered speechless by Qin Zhao even more amusing.

After a long pause, Xiao Yue failed to come up with a retort and glared fiercely at Qin Zhao. “Let’s discuss this inside the tent.”

Xiao Yue hadn’t lied—there really weren’t many people in the camp. Even the military tents were simple and lacked the full setup of an actual military campaign.

“I’ve prepared accommodations for you. Old Sun will show you the way later,” Xiao Yue said as he sat down by the table. “But you’re still as dull as ever. I thought you’d be a bit more excited to see me.”

“I didn’t see any intention of surprising me,” Qin Zhao replied coldly. “You sent people to pose as kidnappers and lured me to a place like this. What are you trying to do?”

Xiao Yue shot a glare at Sun Mengyi and spat, “Useless. You couldn’t even handle such a simple task.”

After a moment’s pause, he smiled. “It was just a joke. You haven’t been back to the capital in years. How could I not prepare a welcome gift?”

“A joke?” Qin Zhao said. “You drugged me and frightened my husband, and you think calling it a joke will settle things?”

Ah, husband again.

Xiao Yue had known all along that a small prank wouldn’t anger Qin Zhao this much. The real reason was that his precious husband had been scared.

This man who values love over friendship.

Accepting his bad luck, Xiao Yue picked up the wine jug and cups from the table and poured three drinks. “Fine, I’ll apologize to my brother’s wife. It was my mistake.”

As he spoke, he pushed two cups toward Qin Zhao and Jing Li.

Jing Li frowned slightly, recalling some unpleasant memories.

Wasn’t it this same guy who got Qin Zhao drunk last time, causing him to come back with a fever?

“My husband doesn’t drink,” Qin Zhao said without even glancing at the cups. “Neither do I.”

Xiao Yue was momentarily speechless.

Wasn’t the person who used to drink him under the table this very man?

Before he could respond, Qin Zhao shifted the topic. “What’s the matter that required me to come in person? Speak plainly.”

“What’s the rush?” Xiao Yue said. “It’s already late. Even if you leave now, you won’t make it back to the capital before curfew. Stay here tonight, and I’ll send someone to escort you back tomorrow.”

Just then, a guard at the entrance reported, “General, dinner is ready.”

“Let’s eat first. We’ll talk after the meal,” Xiao Yue said to Jing Li. “You’ve never tried our camp’s roasted lamb ribs, have you? Once you’ve tasted them, you won’t forget them!”

As he finished speaking, Jing Li’s stomach growled audibly.

In truth, from the moment he entered the camp, Jing Li had caught the pervasive aroma of roasted lamb ribs.

He was starving.

Qin Zhao had intended to continue the discussion with Xiao Yue but stopped when he saw the pitiful look on his little husband’s face.

The group left the tent together.

Xiao Yue was an unpretentious general, sitting cross-legged on the grass like the other soldiers. He used a small knife to slice off a piece of sizzling lamb and ate heartily.

The camp’s food wasn’t particularly refined. The lamb had been hunted in the mountains and seasoned with just a bit of salt and spices, far less elaborate than home cooking.

Yet, perhaps influenced by the atmosphere and surroundings, Jing Li found the simple fare uniquely delicious.

“Not bad, right? This was made by the best cook in my camp,” Xiao Yue said.

Qin Zhao, carefully cutting the meat into small pieces for the little cub, looked up and saw Xiao Yue alternating between bites of lamb and gulps of mare’s milk wine, clearly enjoying himself.

Qin Zhao glanced at the plain water Ah Qi had fetched for him and suddenly found it far less appealing.

Seeing this, Xiao Yue handed over a wineskin and whispered, “What do you say? Just one sip?”

Jing Li, focused on feeding the cub, didn’t notice their exchange. Qin Zhao’s gaze flickered, and even his fingers seemed to twitch slightly.

But the next second, catching a hint that Jing Li might turn his head, he immediately stopped himself.

Xiao Yue, equally quick, retracted his hand.

Jing Li simply reached over to grab a piece of meat Qin Zhao had just cut, popping it into his mouth.

“Hurry up and eat. Why are you both just sitting there?” Jing Li blinked innocently. “Is there something wrong?”

Qin Zhao: “…”

“No,” Xiao Yue replied solemnly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong.”

Except for Xiao Yue’s newfound conviction that marrying early was completely unnecessary.

What a miserable fate.

As the year-end approached, the weather grew colder, and the breath from one’s mouth quickly turned to frost, settling on their eyebrows and lashes.

But the sunlight was strong, and Lin Shuishi lay on the cart, basking contentedly in the warm rays. The creaking of the cart’s wooden wheels was a constant in his ears, the crisp winter air filled his lungs, and in his arms, he held the little white wolf that had crawled out of the basket to sunbathe.

Man and wolf both squinted in the sunlight, lazily yawning as they soaked up the warmth.

Cheng’an found the sight amusing, but as he watched them, he couldn’t help but yawn himself. However, as a scholar, he felt the need to maintain his composure and didn’t want the cart driver to see him being anything less than proper. So, he straightened his back and sat upright on one side of the cart.

Lin Shuishi squinted as he watched the trees on either side of the road slowly recede. The trees were all covered in frost, sparkling as they reflected the sunlight. At this moment, his heart was filled with contentment and gratitude. Having once faced the stillness of death, he now cherished the simple joy of basking in daylight—a testament to nature’s wondrous grace.

Finally, Lin Shuishi could take in the scenery around him. The last time he traveled this route, riding swiftly into town to fetch a doctor, he had been too rushed to notice anything.

This was a quiet country road, hidden and serene. The ox cart traveled for a long time until it reached the end of the path, where it joined the main road leading to the town. The surrounding trees gave way to snowy fields, and after a short distance on this larger road, the city gate came into view.

This was Lin Shuishi’s first time entering the city; the last time, he had only seen it from a distance. Feeling a bit excited, he quickly grabbed the still-drowsy little wolf and tucked him back into the basket. Slinging the basket over his shoulder, he jumped down from the cart.

For some reason, the soldiers guarding the city gate were more numerous and seemed fiercer than usual. They thoroughly inspected the group, only allowing them to pass after Cheng’an presented a letter from his school.

Lin Shuishi carefully followed the not-so-tall Cheng’an, lowering his voice to ask, “What’s going on? Why is it so strict just to enter the city? Is everything okay?”

Cheng’an was puzzled as well. “It wasn’t like this before; they usually didn’t stop anyone.” However, after glancing at the lively marketplace inside the city, he relaxed. “It seems like nothing’s changed within the city.”

Still, after some thought, he turned back to Lin Shuishi and said, “You go ahead and buy what you need, but don’t get lost. Meet me at the flatbread shop at the main market later.” Cheng’an furrowed his brow. “I’ll visit my teacher’s house and see if he knows anything. If there’s any trouble, I’ll make sure to get you home early.”

Lin Shuishi obediently nodded. Although the inspection at the city gate had made him a bit uneasy, his eyes were still shining with excitement. He had never experienced a bustling market before, never walked through such crowded and noisy streets.

In the past, he would quietly sit in a wheelchair while his mother carefully chose quiet, uncrowded times to take him out for a short stroll, before quickly returning home. Due to years of relying on medication, his immune system was weak, and he would often catch colds.

He adjusted the basket on his back, wearing a bright smile as he listened to the shouts of vendors and the haggling along the road. Watching the little children with their small horns running around and chattering, he grinned and dove into the bustling crowd with a chuckle.

Meanwhile, Cheng’an hurried to Qiaoyong Alley, where his teacher resided. Standing at the entrance, he straightened his clothes and respectfully knocked on the door. As it happened, Sun Luqian opened the door.

“Ah, Senior Brother! Just in time, you’re here too. I just got into the city. What’s going on at the city gate?”

Sun Luqian motioned for his junior to lower his voice and ushered him inside. Their teacher was seated in the central hall, reading a historical text. Seeing his beloved student arrive, the teacher put down his book and smiled, inviting Cheng’an to sit beside him.

“Teacher, how have you been feeling lately?” Cheng’an respectfully bowed.

The teacher nodded and gestured for him to enjoy the tea and snacks on the table. “Thanks to your senior brother’s improved prescription and the good medicine you all worked hard to gather, I’m feeling much better. I even ate an extra bowl of rice yesterday.”

Sun Luqian, seeing his teacher in good spirits, was also relieved. “It’s all because of your strong constitution, Teacher, that the medicine worked so well.”

The teacher gave each of them a piece of pastry, then noticed his slightly weary student and asked, “Cheng’an, what’s the matter?”

Sun Luqian, munching on his pastry, interjected, “I bet he got questioned at the city gate.”

“Yes, Teacher. I brought our family’s Shuishi to town to buy some supplies, but I was surprised by how strict the guards were at the city gate! If there’s something going on, I should take Shuishi back as soon as possible.”

The teacher’s smile faded as he listened. He had once been an official in the capital before being demoted, and his wisdom and insight were respected even by the county magistrate. However, because he refused to demand exorbitant fees for his medical expertise, he had fallen on hard times, with his students secretly pooling money to support him without his knowledge.

Now, with no family to care for, he had resigned himself to spending his remaining years in this small town, valuing only the sincerity of his students.

“These are troubled times. The Barbarian King is stirring up unrest. I’ve heard from the county magistrate that in the south, in Yongzhou, the Barbarian King’s forces have nearly stripped the land bare. The common people can no longer survive there, and many refugees are heading north. Although our county of Dingping is built among the mountains and somewhat remote, it’s not immune to refugees passing through.”

“Ah!” Cheng’an’s expression turned grim. “Doesn’t the court have any countermeasures? The city still seems as peaceful as ever. What is the county magistrate planning?”

Sun Luqian finished the last bit of his pastry and gestured for his junior to sit down. “It’s not that bad yet. Let’s wait and see. You shouldn’t worry about the court’s affairs—you’ve only been studying for a few years! Just take Shuishi back home and stay put. Rehe Village is protected by natural barriers, and it’s self-sufficient and well-hidden. No one will find it. It’s still safe there; wait until the situation stabilizes.”

Cheng’an sighed and stood up to go find Shuishi. As he reached the door, he paused and suddenly realized something, turning back to say, “If Dingping ever faces danger in the future, Teacher and Senior Brother, please come home with me!”

The two seated men chuckled at what they considered his childish words, but they were clearly touched. Sun Luqian waved him off, “Go on, make sure Shuishi finishes shopping and then head back.”

Seeing that they didn’t take his offer seriously, Cheng’an decided not to press the issue. Though the saying goes that a gentleman does not stand under a dangerous wall, his teacher and senior brother were not ordinary people. Cheng’an knew he couldn’t fully grasp their thoughts. For now, his priority was to ensure Shuishi’s safety—otherwise, his father would have his hide!

With that, he bid the two farewell and hurried to the town’s main market to find Lin Shuishi. He also planned to buy more food supplies. Once they returned to the village, who knew when they’d be able to come out again? Essentials like salt and rice needed to be stocked up.

The magistrate of Dingping County had a military background and was particularly adept at maintaining public order. So, even though it was close to the New Year and the streets were crowded, the vendors adhered strictly to the rules. Anyone caught trying to take advantage of the chaos faced harsh penalties, from imprisonment to execution. Over the years, this strict enforcement meant that incidents during the New Year season were rare. This was why Cheng’an felt safe letting Lin Shuishi wander the market on his own.

Cheng’an took a shortcut to the end of the market street, where the flatbread shop was located, but Lin Shuishi was nowhere to be found. He figured that Lin Shuishi might not have finished browsing yet, so he continued buying supplies while keeping an eye out for him.

It wasn’t until Cheng’an approached a roasted duck stall and saw a crowd gathered nearby that he spotted Lin Shuishi. There he was, right in the middle, holding his precious “puppy” in his left hand and a string of coins in his right, looking a bit downcast as he apologized to the stall owner.

It turned out that as soon as Lin Shuishi entered the market, he was dazzled by everything around him. The stalls selling pouches and accessories didn’t interest him much; after seeing modern crafts, these seemed less impressive, and he didn’t think they had as many patterns as the sweaters he knitted himself. Besides, as a man, he had no use for such bright and colorful things.

When Lin Shuishi came across a stall selling spices, he took his time, patiently stopping to purchase various items, carefully placing them into his basket. The scent of the spices was so strong that it eventually woke up the little white wolf dozing inside the basket, making it sneeze repeatedly. However, the market was so noisy that Shuishi didn’t notice the sneezing right away.

As Shuishi continued to walk through the market, a group of children began to follow him, giggling and whispering among themselves. This was because the little wolf cub, desperate to breathe some fresh air but too scared to come out in the crowded market, had its front paws hooked over the edge of the basket, with its snout poking out to sniff the air.

From behind Shuishi, one could see a small, thin boy carrying a basket with something alive inside it—only a black, wet snout and two fluffy white paws were visible. The children, having noticed this, started to trail behind him. Sometimes, they would use small sticks to tickle the white paws, only to have the sharp little claws swipe back at them. Other times, they would hang a piece of candy near the snout, letting the dark nose sniff it.

The little white wolf, unimpressed by the candy, ignored it with haughty disdain. It wasn’t until Lin Shuishi stopped at a stall selling rice that things took a turn. He crouched down to inspect the rice closely. The grains were small, many were worm-eaten, and it was only partially husked, meaning more work would be needed to turn it into usable rice.

As Lin Shuishi stood in front of the stall, pondering how to process the rice when he got home, he was inadvertently pushed by the crowd into a narrow space between the rice stall and another vendor. And as luck would have it, that other vendor was selling roasted duck…

The little white wolf, having been accustomed to cooked food since it was weaned, had a particular fondness for good eats. The smell of the freshly roasted duck was irresistible. It stretched its neck as far as it could, sniffing the air hungrily, drooling so much that the edge of the basket was soaked.

Staring longingly at the ducks hanging from the hooks in the stall, the little wolf, acting all sneaky, extended its paw and managed to snag one, trying to pull it into the basket. By the time the stall owner noticed, the duck was already halfway inside, with only a leg sticking out!

The stall owner, furious, accused Lin Shuishi of stealing his duck. But when he opened the basket and saw the little “puppy” at the bottom, its face covered in grease yet still looking remarkably fine, he let out a sigh and relented. He even offered to let Lin Shuishi keep the duck if he would give him the dog, promising that the little fellow could eat duck every day from then on!

Lin Shuishi was at a loss, both amused and exasperated. There was no way he could give the little creature away—he was still counting on it! So, he had no choice but to awkwardly pull out some money, stammering apologies as he paid for the duck. He even bought a freshly roasted one, wrapped in lotus leaves, though he wasn’t sure who he’d give it to.

As the crowd around him giggled, Cheng’an squeezed through, pulling the blushing Shuishi, who was now trying to cover the basket, out of the crowd. With a playful flick on Lin Shuishi’s forehead, Cheng’an scolded, “I told you, coming to the county town with a puppy on your back—aren’t you tired?”

Lin Shuishi scratched his head, grinning with his eyes squinting in a smile, obediently standing beside Cheng’an. Cheng’an sighed; he finally understood the difficulty of being an elder brother—unable to scold and unable to control! So, he simply led Lin Shuishi out of the bustling market. “Did you get everything?”

Lin Shuishi nodded, “Yes, I got everything. The lighter stuff is in the basket, and the heavier rice, flour, or cookware, I arranged with the shop owner to deliver to the ox cart at the city gate. I’ll pay them when we get there.”

Cheng’an nodded in approval. “Then let’s go.” The street was actually quite short, and after passing through the crowded part, they arrived at the rice cake shop, a century-old establishment. The aroma of baked rice and flour, mixed with the scent of oil, filled the air even from the doorway. The Zheng family had a fondness for this treat, and since it was nearing the end of the year, they didn’t mind spending a bit more money. The two of them bought a good amount of rice cakes before heading back to the city gate.

Without delay, Cheng’an collected their belongings and instructed the driver to hurry out of the city, aiming to get home while there was still daylight.

However, they left the city later than expected. Before noon, refugees had already begun gathering at the city gate, hoping to find a way to survive. The county magistrate had wisely stationed soldiers at the gate, setting up a tent to distribute porridge, though it was thin and barely enough to keep the refugees from starving to death.

The surrounding towns and villages were taking similar measures. The magistrate dared not give out too much rice for fear that word would spread, leading to an overwhelming influx of refugees, which could spell disaster for the city. As a soldier himself, he valued the survival of his people above all, knowing that the lives of the county’s residents were what truly mattered.

Cheng’an frowned and urged the driver to speed up. With few people around at the moment, they needed to move quickly before the situation worsened.

Lin Shuishi, meanwhile, was stunned as he looked at the refugees, barely clothed and huddled by the city walls. He finally understood what it meant for the roads to be filled with the bones of the dead and the starving.

The soldiers’ stern indifference, along with Cheng’an’s haste to get home without acknowledging the refugees, revealed a darker side of this world to him.

The fact that he had woken up in the wolves’ den in the Dongshan Mountain was a stroke of luck.

As Lin Shuishi’s cart moved forward, the refugees didn’t dare attack under the watchful eyes of the city guards. But one emaciated woman threw herself in front of the cart, unafraid of being run over, bowing repeatedly to the people on the cart. Her son, leaning against the city wall, was on the brink of death from starvation.

Seeing her desperate state, Lin Shuishi couldn’t bear it. Imagining if it were his own mother, she would undoubtedly do the same to protect him. So, while no one was looking, he quickly handed her a bag of rice cakes before turning away, urging the cart to move faster.

Cheng’an sighed but didn’t scold Lin Shuishi. Instead, he became even more vigilant of their surroundings.

But as the ox cart left the sight of the city guards and was about to enter the forest path leading home, an unexpected situation occurred.

The son of the woman who had been constantly bowing in gratitude earlier, who had seemed on the verge of death, was now striding confidently, eyes gleaming with a predatory light, as he and several others caught up with the ox cart, surrounding Lin Shuishi and the others with knives and clubs, clearly intending to attack.

“Leave no one alive, so the city guards won’t find out,” Lin Shuishi heard one of them say, and his heart sank. The driver shouted for Lin Shuishi and the others to jump from the cart and hide in the forest while he tried to escape. The group of robbers immediately rushed forward.

Cheng’an pulled Lin Shuishi to run, but soon several stones were hurled at them, hitting them hard. This was clearly a tactic the robbers often used to chase down their victims. Cheng’an, who was still young and not very strong, was hit on the head and fainted.

Lin Shuishi couldn’t abandon Cheng’an, so he drew a kitchen knife from the basket and guarded Cheng’an, slashing at an approaching robber and wounding him. But the rest of the robbers, armed with knives and clubs, were determined to beat Lin Shuishi to death.

At that moment, the little wolf in the basket leaped out, no longer playful and mischievous, but showing the fierce and ruthless nature of a direct descendant of the wolf king. It bristled its fur, bared its sharp teeth, and stood protectively in front of Lin Shuishi, letting out a chilling howl that echoed across the wilderness.

The robbers hesitated at the sound of the howl, but the leader quickly ordered, “Quick, kill it first!”

The little white wolf, however, was incredibly agile. It immediately pounced on one man’s head, clawing out his eyes before sinking its teeth into his throat with the deadly precision of a hunting wolf. The others, ignoring their screaming companion, took advantage of the opening to rush at Lin Shuishi.

Lin Shuishi’s body trembled, but he gritted his teeth, gripping the kitchen knife tightly, determined to take at least one of them down with him.

One of the robbers, with yellowed teeth, charged at Lin Shuishi. In desperate fear, Lin Shuishi shut his eyes and swung the knife with all his strength.

But instead of striking flesh, he heard a bloodcurdling scream from the other side, followed by silence. Lin Shuishi opened his eyes and exhaled in relief, his body instinctively relaxing, a sense of safety washing over him.

A towering figure stood before him, solid and imposing. With his powerful right arm, he lifted the robber by the throat, hoisting him high off the ground. Lin Shuishi heard a sickening crack, and the yellow-toothed robber went limp, his limbs dangling uselessly, before being flung far away by Fuli.

The remaining robbers, seeing this, immediately fled. They had carefully planned this ambush, knowing there were only three people in the ox cart—two of whom were either elderly or young, and the third being a seemingly weak ger with a barely noticeable birthmark. Their intention was to kill, loot, and leave no witnesses—a practice they were well-accustomed to.

But who could have predicted that such a fierce figure would appear out of nowhere? They watched in terror as this massive, intimidating man silently leaped out of the forest. His strange appearance, with eyes that glowed a reddish-gold and an aura brimming with murderous intent, was terrifying enough. In just one swift move, he had snapped the neck of one of their comrades.

Fuli, consumed by rage, immediately pounced on the remaining men. In just a few moves, they were left bloody and battered. However, he didn’t kill them outright—he seemed intent on tearing off their limbs, torturing them to death. Wolves typically kill with a single blow, respecting life even as they hunt, offering this final mercy to their prey.

But Fuli had broken this rule. He tilted his head slightly, baring his chillingly sharp teeth, his eyes blood-red, overtaken by a violent and beastly nature.

Even the little wolf nearby was frightened by this side of Fuli. Its mouth still stained with blood, it retreated, ears flattened in submission, and whimpered as it moved closer to Lin Shuishi for protection.

This was a side of Fuli that Lin Shuishi had never seen before—wild and ferocious, a beast reveling in bloodshed and death.

But despite his hesitation, Lin Shuishi tightened his grip, summoning the courage to softly call out to him from behind.

“Fuli… Fuli.”

“Let’s… let’s go home.”

The sky was dark, with only the serene, jade-like moonlight outside. Its soft glow gently illuminated the surroundings without disturbing the world.

Gently pushing the door open, Lin Shuishi saw Fuli silently return to lie down beside him. Fuli, still carrying his injuries and the lingering poison in his body, had bid farewell to his mother under the falling snow at dusk. Now, exhausted from the effort of living as a human, struggling to maintain this facade, he had no energy left. A weary giant beast, shackled and burdened, curled up beside a person and fell into a deep sleep.

As the night wore on, the small room grew colder. Lin Shuishi lay awake under the covers, his eyes tracing the heavy figure of the man lying on his stomach, illuminated by the moonlight. He thought for half the night but couldn’t quite grasp what he was thinking about.

Fuli slept simply, whether in a tree or on a cliff, always bare-chested. Would he be cold?

Finally, as the cold frost settled outside, Lin Shuishi cautiously moved closer to Fuli, sharing a corner of his blanket with him, draping it gently over Fuli’s broad arm.

Fuli didn’t wake up; he was too deeply asleep.

In the early morning, Lin Shuishi was awakened by the wet licks of the little white wolf. The sturdy figure that had been under the blanket was replaced by this noisy, affectionate little cub. Seeing the cub’s fur standing on end due to static electricity, Lin Shuishi tried to smooth it down, but as soon as he lifted his hand, the fur popped right back up, clinging to his palm.

With a sigh, Lin Shuishi got up to fetch some water to smooth the cub’s fur. But more importantly, he wanted to find out where Fuli was—if he was still here in this small, confined world that Lin Shuishi had come to know.

Opening the door, a blast of cold air greeted him, forming mist on his face. Looking out, he saw that Fuli was still there, sitting alone in the courtyard with his bare shoulders, his back to the red morning sun, a pile of firewood at his feet.

Down the slope, the sons of the Zheng family were swinging axes to split wood. The dry tree roots were so thick that it took considerable effort. Dongsheng worked up a sweat, vigorously chopping away.

Fuli had observed this scene from the slope for a long time. Now, he was “splitting wood” as well, but not with human tools like an axe. Instead, he simply grasped the ends of the logs, pulling them apart with his bare hands. The muscles in his arms tensed, and the thick wood snapped in half with a “crack.”

He continued this action rapidly, and in just a short morning, a considerable pile of split wood had formed on the ground.

Lin Shuishi was startled when he saw what Fuli was doing. He had already witnessed Fuli’s extraordinary strength, but Fuli was still injured! Splitting wood required significant use of arm muscles, and the strain could easily cause his back wound to reopen.

Unable to hold back, Lin Shuishi called out to him, “Fuli, stop doing that! Your wound might reopen!”

Fuli stood in the pile of firewood, holding a piece of wood in both hands. Just as Lin Shuishi finished speaking, Fuli exerted his strength again, and with a series of cracking sounds, he split several more pieces of wood.

The two of them stood at an impasse for a moment, and when Lin Shuishi’s nose started to redden, Fuli finally brushed off the wood chips from his body and silently walked over to him.

From the initially taciturn person he had been, Fuli had now progressed to being able to speak a few sentences. Even though he only said a few words, his pronunciation was incredibly precise, and he spoke clearly. If he wasn’t confident in his speech, he would remain silent.

Fuli had grown up in a wolf pack, far from any human influence. There was no one to serve as his reference or guide, a trait that was intrinsic to his nature and carried the pride that flowed through his bloodline.

Lowering his head, Fuli looked at the small human before him and asked in a deep voice, “You don’t want me to do this?”

Lin Shuishi gazed up at the tall, strong figure in front of him, and he instantly understood Fuli’s meaning. Fuli was asking if Lin Shuishi didn’t need him to do this task, if he wanted to find someone else to do it—like the men down the slope who were chopping wood together?

After thinking for a while, Lin Shuishi awkwardly replied, “No, it’s just that we have enough wood for now. You should come inside so I can check your wound!” He then bit his lip, not daring to look at Fuli, and quickly turned to go inside.

Fuli was always attentive to the small, weak human in front of him, trying to decipher what he wanted, what he was trying to express, and what he was refusing. This was his challenge.

In the wolf pack, they could understand each other’s emotions through scent and howls, confirming their bond through close physical contact and grooming. But clearly, humans were not like that. Humans were more complex, more unpredictable.

Lin Shuishi tilted his head to examine the wound on Fuli’s shoulder and back. It was slightly reddened, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the strain earlier or because Fuli hadn’t been consuming enough nutrients recently to support his fast metabolism and rapid healing.

The once fiery body was now covered in a light morning mist and frost, with a faint chill. Lin Shuishi noticed this and softly instructed Fuli not to move. He then climbed into the bed and reached into a small, tidy cabinet next to it. From the cleanest and most organized drawer, he pulled out a garment that he had finished weaving a long time ago.

The sweater made from wolf wool was thick yet soft to the touch. Lin Shuishi had also knitted one for himself, but because he was smaller and required less material, it took him less than half the time it took to make this larger sweater to finish his own, which just needed the edges to be sealed.

Holding the large sweater, Lin Shuishi hesitated as he sat beside Fuli. After all, he had only ever knitted sweaters for his parents, the people he was closest to in the world.

And now, he was about to give one to this “beast” from another world.

Fuli didn’t quite understand what this thing was. Why was he being asked to wear the fur of other wolves from the pack? Scent was a very sensitive thing.

But Lin Shuishi didn’t concern himself with Fuli’s animal instincts; he was only focused on getting Fuli to put it on. Staying warm was what mattered most.

So, after much fussing back and forth, he finally managed to get Fuli to put the sweater on.

Fuli shifted uncomfortably, but he felt the warmth and started to understand. He looked at Lin Shuishi, who wasn’t wearing one, and asked, “What about you?”

But Lin Shuishi was in a daze.

He stared at Fuli, now dressed in a white sweater that covered his bulging muscles and fierce physique, making him appear somewhat calmer. With his hair tied in a modern style by Lin Shuishi, Fuli’s handsome and steady features made Lin Shuishi feel as if he had been transported back to his own time.

It was as if he hadn’t gone through a bizarre transmigration or struggled to survive in the depths of Dongshan. It felt like he had just taken a nap, and upon waking, he had encountered someone—a unique individual from a species he had never seen in his twenty years of life. And now, it seemed like he should greet this person and say, “Hi! Hello.”

Fuli’s voice brought him back to reality, and Lin Shuishi quickly responded with a simple excuse before blushing and hurriedly running off to the side room to cook, leaving Fuli sitting there, still trying to figure out what had just happened.

At lunch, there were a few potatoes and some meat soup on the table, but most of the food was placed in front of Lin Shuishi. Fuli had a separate dish in front of him—freshly sliced raw beef, seasoned lightly with salt to make up for the fact that Fuli didn’t have access to animal blood.

Fuli, slightly confused, reached for the potatoes in front of Lin Shuishi, but was stopped by him. “That’s cold beef strips; it’s how we eat it,” Lin Shuishi said, taking a small bite to show him.

“With the New Year approaching, a yellow cow in the village died of old age, so the village chief butchered it and distributed the meat to all the households. I received a portion, which Uncle Zheng helped deliver.”

Fuli chewed the beef slowly and replied with a simple “Mm.” The meat was a bit tough, but he ate it all carefully.

After the meal, Lin Shuishi was wiping down the plates, relieved to see that the beef had been eaten clean. Just then, he heard someone softly calling from the doorway, “Shuishi! Shuishi, are you there?” It was Zheng Cheng’an’s voice—among his family, he was the only one who spoke so softly and gently.

When Lin Shuishi opened the door, Zheng Cheng’an didn’t enter the house. Instead, he stood outside, clasped his hands together in a polite gesture, and glanced over Lin Shuishi’s shoulder to make sure no one else was around. Only then did he let out a sigh of relief. “Shuishi, I’ve hired the ox cart. We’ll be leaving soon. Didn’t you say you wanted to go to town to buy some things for the New Year? Get ready, and we’ll head out!” After saying that, he dashed down the slope as if he were afraid someone might chase after him.

Lin Shuishi watched Cheng’an’s hurried departure and sighed slightly. But when he returned to the house, he noticed that Fuli, who had just been sitting inside, was gone. Panic set in, and he searched everywhere, only calming down a bit when he saw that the little white wolf was still sleeping soundly on the kang.

After thinking for a moment, Lin Shuishi decided to tuck the drowsy little cub into the basket he carried on his back. He also made sure to add food and water for the small horse before heading down the slope.

When Cheng’an saw Lin Shuishi coming down, he finally instructed the cart driver to start. However, the ox pulling the cart seemed nervous, frequently disobeying the driver’s commands and even backing up instead of moving forward. It wasn’t until they had struggled out of the village that things improved.

Sitting on the cart, Lin Shuishi watched as the Rehe Village gradually disappeared in the distance. He placed the basket on his chest and covered the still-sleeping little cub with a small blanket.

Having come to this place, Lin Shuishi thought he might as well explore the customs and culture of the area, so it wouldn’t be a wasted trip.

However, what he didn’t notice was that the little white wolf in the basket twitched its ears, cautiously opened its blue eyes, and looked back at the forest behind them several times. After sniffing the air and feeling reassured, the cub stretched, let out a small whimper, and curled up to continue its nap.

When Lin Shuishi noticed quite a few children and a few unfamiliar villagers around, he quickly patted Fuli’s shoulder, signaling that he wanted to walk on his own. Now that they were in the village, it would draw too much attention to be carried like that, especially with someone as unique as Fuli. Lin Shuishi imagined that by tomorrow, there would be at least eight or nine different rumors circulating through the village. So, he quickly asked Fuli to squat down, jumped off, decisively grabbed the rattan basket, and dashed ahead, running straight back home.

As he passed by the Zheng family’s gate on the slope, eldest sister-in-law Zheng was outside with a winnowing basket, sifting corn husks. Seeing Lin Shuishi coming up from the village, she called out to him, “Shuishi, what are you doing out so early in the morning?”

Lin Shuishi, feeling a bit self-conscious, glanced back at the road where Fuli was leisurely walking toward them. He stammered a response, “Just went up the mountain to gather some wild goods.” Then he took out several large bird eggs from the basket, saying, “Sister-in-law, you can cook or fry these for the kids; it’s good nourishment.”

Zheng Dajie had never seen such strange, large eggs before! Even regular chicken eggs were a rarity for them. She wanted to decline but looking at the few snot-nosed kids around her, her motherly instincts kicked in, and she couldn’t resist taking the eggs from Lin Shuishi’s hands, albeit a bit shyly.

“Well… We’re like family, so I won’t be too formal with you. Yesterday I…”

Before she could finish, her voice trailed off. Lin Shuishi followed her gaze and turned around, only to see Fuli, with a small wolf cub tucked under one arm, already catching up to him. With long strides, Fuli passed by the Zheng family’s gate without so much as a glance and headed up the slope.

Lin Shuishi had locked the front gate last night, so instead of using the front door, Fuli reached the wall that was over a person’s height, and with a single leap, he easily entered the courtyard.

Zheng Dajie was left staring wide-eyed, stammering as she pointed to the spot by the wall where Fuli had disappeared. “W-who is that? How did he get into your house like that? He looks terrifying.”

Lin Shuishi had no choice but to explain, saying that this was the benefactor who had saved him in the mountains. Now that he was recovering, Lin Shuishi had accompanied him to ensure he wouldn’t be in danger going up the mountain alone.

After explaining, Lin Shuishi quickly said his goodbyes to Zheng Dajie, thinking it best to leave quickly before saying something he might regret. He also wasn’t sure if the little black horse had made it home yet.

As Lin Shuishi walked away with the basket on his back, he left behind a speechless woman. Though she had been quite intimidated by Fuli’s imposing figure and demeanor, once he was out of sight, she stood at the gate, marveling at how handsome and strong he was—truly a real man!

She knew quite a bit about the family matters in the Zheng household and had heard from her in-laws that Lin Shuishi likely wouldn’t be marrying into their family to be with Dongsheng after all. It seemed there was something going on between him and that benefactor of his.

Zheng Dajie watched the young man struggling up the slope with his load, and then her thoughts wandered back to that mountain-like man she had seen earlier. Her face flushed as she sighed inwardly, wondering how Shuishi could possibly handle someone of such immense stature!

Her child tugged at her, asking for the eggs that Lin Shuishi had given them, snapping her out of her thoughts. She scolded herself for having such improper thoughts and quickly took her child inside to store the eggs safely.

Meanwhile, Lin Shuishi, after saying goodbye to Zheng Dajie, finally made it to his doorstep, still carrying the basket on his back. But when he reached out to push the door open, he suddenly froze.

Since they had left through the back slope the night before, the front door was still bolted from the inside!

He was about to call for Fuli to help, but then thought better of it, knowing that Fuli might not even bother to open the door. Just as he was about to look for something to pry the door open, the thick wooden door suddenly creaked and opened.

There stood the tall and imposing Fuli, his muscular frame even more pronounced in the sunlight. His iron-like hand gripped two large pieces of what used to be the door’s sturdy wooden bolt.

Lin Shuishi blinked in surprise and clicked his tongue in resignation—well, it seemed they wouldn’t need to bolt the door anymore. The door’s bolt had been cleanly snapped in two, something that no ordinary person could manage.

In the courtyard, the little black horse lay dejectedly in the empty livestock pen. It had been unable to keep up with Fuli’s speed the night before and had been sent back by Lin Shuishi. Frustrated, it had arrived at the door only to remember that horses can’t open doors! So, it had spent a chilly night in the pen, waiting for the humans to return. Lin Shuishi felt relieved when the little black horse came over to him, but seeing the frost on its long eyelashes, he felt guilty and immediately gave it several fruits from the basket as a peace offering.

With everyone back together, it was time to cook! Lin Shuishi was eager to put all the “goodies” he had brought back to good use. But when he opened the water jar, he found only a small puddle left at the bottom—just enough to make medicine for Fuli.

Sighing, Lin Shuishi remembered how Dongsheng had been pinned to the ground and choked by Fuli while trying to help him carry water. He felt genuinely sorry for involving him in such trouble.

So, Lin Shuishi fetched an old yoke from the side room, along with two new buckets that Uncle Zheng had recently made. He opened the door and headed for the river.

Along the way, he encountered some fellow villagers also fetching water. Seeing a young man carrying such a heavy load in the middle of winter, they couldn’t help but ask whose household he belonged to and why he was out doing such heavy labor. Lin Shuishi just smiled cheerfully, not minding at all—he had always considered himself a responsible man.

What this responsible man didn’t know was that Fuli was quietly following him the entire way.

Fuli observed every person they passed, scrutinizing their intentions and behaviors with the same focus and strategy he would use while hunting.

Finally, as Lin Shuishi reached the riverbank, Fuli made up his mind. He believed he could do it.

Lin Shuishi had just bent down to fill his bucket from the warm river when he noticed a large hand reaching out beside him to grasp the bucket. The distinctiveness of that hand left no doubt about who it belonged to. Surprised, Shuishi looked up to see Fuli seriously holding the bucket.

“I need to fetch water to cook…,” Lin Shuishi started, unsure whether to stop Fuli or not. He still harbored some fear—while the villagers who had encountered Fuli were only intimidated by his overwhelming presence, Lin Shuishi knew this man’s true wildness and ferocity. Fuli was the most formidable beast, the unrivaled ruler of Dongshan.

But Fuli ignored Lin Shuishi’s hesitation. He grabbed the bucket, bent his knees, and mimicked the movements of the other villagers at the river, filling the bucket perfectly. Then, following their method, he carefully hung the buckets on either side of the yoke, spreading his arms to maintain the balance.

However, as soon as he placed his arms on the yoke, there was a sharp “crack”—the sturdy yoke snapped clean in two.

Fuli froze, and Lin Shuishi couldn’t help but laugh. He had been feeling nervous, but now he covered his mouth and chuckled. The scene was just too amusing—this invincible beast king of the mountains, defeated by a simple yoke meant for ordinary humans.

But Lin Shuishi thought to himself, It’s the same yoke, but how could it handle the same shoulders? Fuli’s body was like iron, with the strength to shake mountains—how could a mere bamboo yoke withstand the pressure of his arms?

“Never mind, the yoke just wasn’t sturdy enough. We can carry the buckets by hand instead,” Lin Shuishi said, accepting Fuli’s help and instinctively trying to make excuses for him.

But Fuli didn’t back down. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and without a word, he grabbed the buckets and the broken yoke and disappeared in just a few strides. Lin Shuishi scratched his head, still chuckling, and hurried after Fuli as they headed home.

Even though the task had been a failure, for some reason, Lin Shuishi felt strangely happy—like a little sparrow that had witnessed a tiger’s blunder and, rather than fleeing, decided to chase after it, laughing to itself. He didn’t realize that at any moment, the beast could pounce, break his wings, and clamp down on his frail body.

As Lin Shuishi jogged along the riverbank back toward the slope, he noticed several men carrying yokes and coming down to fetch water, all with looks of shock and bewilderment. Curious, he looked ahead and suddenly froze, his smile fading.

Fuli was upstream, barely covered by a simple animal skin, his arms almost bare.

He had given up on those “useless” items and directly carried a heavy, enormous water jar, tossing it into the river upstream. After filling it with water, he tested its weight by lifting it slightly and then hoisted the full jar onto his shoulder, effortlessly walking back.

Before leaving, he turned his head, glancing at Lin Shuishi from a distance with his dark golden eyes. Then he tilted his head, signaling Lin Shuishi to follow.

Lin Shuishi hesitated, but seeing that Fuli wouldn’t move until he did, and aware of how much attention Fuli was attracting, he had no choice but to awkwardly follow behind, being led back home by Fuli.

Not long after, the village began to buzz with rumors—about the young man from the Lin family who had returned, about the handsome man who was close to him, and about how that man seemed so poor that he couldn’t even afford proper clothing.

As a result, the village’s gossipy aunts couldn’t sit still. They hadn’t seen Fuli, but they had heard that Lin’s son had come back, so they wanted to visit and take a look. After all, they reasoned, even if Lin Shuishi was an orphan now, His father had been a respectable man in his day, and his only son, even if he was just a ger, surely deserved better than a brute who couldn’t even afford clothes.

Meanwhile, Lin Shuishi hardly left the house. One morning, when he woke up groggily, he saw Fuli standing by a basket of wolf fur, tilting his head in puzzlement as he stared at it.

When Lin Shuishi got closer to see what was happening—oh, what a surprise! The basket of speckled eggs had hatched three gray, fuzzy chicks. One of the eggs still occasionally shook, with a tiny yellow beak poking at the hard shell from inside. The chick inside would rest occasionally to regain strength, then continue its relentless effort to break free.

Lin Shuishi hadn’t expected that, after enduring such harsh cold and turmoil, these eggs would still hatch, albeit sparsely. He cherished them, feeding and watering them daily, hoping to see them grow strong, spread their wings, and fly.

And who knows? If they stayed, he might have a steady supply of eggs.

Fuli, who had recently started eating eggs and cooked food, was gradually abandoning his wild eating habits, transforming almost suddenly as he strove to resemble “humans.”

He was becoming more and more “like” a person.

But it was only “like.” One night, Lin Shuishi awoke groggily and, in the dim light of the waning moon, accidentally witnessed the inner turmoil beneath Fuli’s calm exterior.

Fuli couldn’t digest human food properly. In the dead of night, with no one around, he would vomit until his eyes were bloodshot. Yet, the next day, he would still sit at the table with Shuishi, eating the soup and vegetables.

He was trying hard to prove himself, while at the same time, trying hard to conceal the struggle.