Author Archives: Thandar

Whether or not Jing Li’s prayers had worked, the emperor’s illness was undeniably good news for them.

But there wasn’t a trace of joy on Qin Zhao’s face.

Jing Li asked, “Why… do you seem unhappy?”

Qin Zhao closed his eyes briefly and said in a low voice, “I feel like something isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“The emperor is only twenty-three this year. How could he fall gravely ill from a simple cold? Is the entire Imperial Medical Bureau incapable of treating such a minor illness?”

He was, after all, the emperor—not an ordinary person. As the Son of Heaven, enjoying every luxury, could a mere cold really render him bedridden and absent from court?

Hearing Qin Zhao’s reasoning, Jing Li realized something. “Are you saying the emperor is faking his illness?”

“It’s possible,” Qin Zhao replied. “The emperor hasn’t attended court for so long, but someone still has to handle the accumulating state affairs. Whatever’s really going on, it will become clear after some investigation.”

“Are you going to send someone to look into it now?” Jing Li asked.

“There’s no need. They already know what to do; I don’t need to give instructions,” Qin Zhao said with a faint smile. “The fastest it takes for a secret message to travel from the capital is about half a month. This is only the first letter. I suspect another will arrive in a few days, and then we’ll know more.”

Jing Li sighed. “That’s amazing…”

Qin Zhao raised a brow. “What’s amazing?”

“Their brains,” Jing Li muttered while playing with the fish fry’s small hands. “I just feel like I’d never be able to help you with something like this. My brain isn’t sharp enough.”

Qin Zhao chuckled.

He beckoned Jing Li over, and when Jing Li approached, Qin Zhao wrapped him and the fish fry in his arms.

“But I only like you,” Qin Zhao said earnestly.

Jing Li knew he was deliberately being coaxed, but the words still made his face flush. Embarrassed, he shoved the fish fry into Qin Zhao’s arms and escaped back to the bed to continue packing.

The next day, they boarded a boat to return to Linxi Village.

The boat drifted downstream, and it was the fish fry’s first time on one. He leaned over the railing, peering curiously into the water. “Wow!”

Ah Qi stood guard beside him, his posture tense and vigilant, as if the fish fry might fall overboard at any moment.

But Jing Li knew that wasn’t what Ah Qi was worried about. He was afraid the little ancestor would get too excited, forget to hide his true form, and jump straight into the water.

Ah Qi’s face was stern, and even when Jing Li came over to hand them some water, he gave only a brief acknowledgment before turning back to keep watch over the little one.

… Truly, a model of dedication.

Jing Li hesitated for a moment, said nothing, and turned back into the cabin.

This boat usually ferried a handful of people on quiet days and up to a dozen passengers on busy ones. But today, the large vessel carried only Jing Li and his family.

Qin Zhao had rented the entire boat.

Jing Li, who was used to being frugal, initially felt a twinge of guilt about the expense—until Qin Zhao calmly told him, “The Gu family paid for it.”

… Well, alright then.

Jing Li only learned that Qin Zhao was the mastermind behind Gu Changzhou after Qin Zhao personally told him.

His ability to deduce Qin Zhao’s identity from subtle oddities was already impressive, but he had never once doubted Gu Changzhou’s identity. So, when Qin Zhao revealed the truth, Jing Li was stunned for quite a while.

Even when Qin Zhao admitted to being the former Regent, Jing Li hadn’t been this shocked.

Jing Li suddenly understood. “No wonder Master Gu keeps sending things over every few days. I always thought he cared more about you than his parents or wife. Turns out he really—”

Realizing the implication, Jing Li cleared his throat and stopped mid-sentence.

Qin Zhao simply smiled.

With the Gu family’s support, Qin Zhao had never lacked for wealth. Had he not been hesitant to come clean with Jing Li before, Gu Changzhou would have already gifted him a fine residence in the prefectural city several times over.

In this household, Qin Zhao knew the full truth, Ah Qi was utterly loyal to serving the family, and the little fish fry spent his days eating, drinking, and playing without a care. In the end, only Jing Li was genuinely worrying about their livelihood.

It was, admittedly, unfair.

As Jing Li’s gaze drifted over the empty boat cabin, this thought crossed his mind again, momentarily distracting him. Qin Zhao noticed and called out, “What are you daydreaming about? Come here.”

The cabin was originally filled with simple cots for travelers to rest on, but since Qin Zhao had rented the entire boat, the extra cots had been removed. By the window, a small table had been set up, and Qin Zhao was leaning against it, enjoying the view.

The scenery along the river from Jiangling Prefecture to the countryside was stunning. Unfortunately, Qin Zhao’s frail health meant he couldn’t go out on the deck to feel the wind and had to settle for enjoying the sights from inside the cabin.

On the table sat a small teapot with water just brought to a boil. Jing Li walked over, lifted the lid, and sprinkled in a handful of tea leaves.

“Your tea-making skills are getting better,” Qin Zhao remarked.

“Of course. I’ve been practicing for a long time,” Jing Li replied, sitting across from Qin Zhao while waiting for the tea to steep. “I have to learn these things well so you won’t find me lacking in the future.”

Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“I’m just joking,” Jing Li said with a playful wink. A moment later, he poured two cups of tea and pushed one toward Qin Zhao. “Your Highness, please enjoy.”

“…”

Qin Zhao sighed helplessly.

Perhaps because Jing Li had already guessed part of the truth, he accepted Qin Zhao’s identity without the slightest resistance. His reactions, in fact, made Qin Zhao feel a bit unprepared.

From the window, they could hear the little fish fry giggling joyfully on the deck, clearly having a great time.

Qin Zhao commented, “If the fish fry likes being on a boat so much, we can travel north by water.”

“Really?” Jing Li’s eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Traveling by water is great! It’s much more comfortable than riding in a carriage—those things leave your whole body sore. I also heard that traveling by water is faster than by carriage, right?”

“It’s about a few days quicker,” Qin Zhao confirmed.

In this era, traveling to the capital for the imperial examinations was a highly risky endeavor.

Many people had never traveled such long distances in their lives and were unfamiliar with the routes. On top of that, official roads hadn’t been laid in many areas, and the journey was fraught with unknown dangers. Not to mention the threat of mountain bandits.

Jing Li had heard that some bandits specifically targeted scholars traveling to the capital in the months between the provincial exams and the metropolitan exams.

Many didn’t even make it to the capital, losing their lives in foreign lands instead.

Traveling north by boat was a relatively safer option.

Of course, it was also significantly more expensive.

Even the cheapest cargo ships cost several times more than traveling by carriage for a single trip. As for specialized merchant ships, just one night’s fare could rival the cost of staying at an inn in Jiangling Prefecture for an entire night.

For families without substantial wealth, affording such a journey was impossible.

This was why Jing Li had never considered traveling north by boat before.

But now…

He had heard that the Gu family’s businesses owned dozens of merchant and cargo ships.

Jing Li’s mental abacus started clacking away furiously. Qin Zhao, seeing through his thoughts, said, “Once we return to the village, I’ll send a letter to Gu Changzhou and have him make the arrangements.”

Jing Li nodded in agreement and asked, “When will we set out?”

Qin Zhao didn’t answer immediately.

Jing Li pressed, “It seems like you want to head to the capital as soon as possible, doesn’t it?”

Qin Zhao turned his head to look out the window, as if trying to mask some emotion.

After a while, he softly said, “…Yes.”

“Is it because…” Jing Li hesitated before voicing his guess, “You’re uneasy about what was mentioned in that letter?”

Qin Zhao might be able to fool others, but he couldn’t fool Jing Li. Ever since receiving that letter, he had been visibly preoccupied.

What was he worried about?

Was it the possibility that the young emperor was deliberately faking his illness and that something unexpected might happen?

Jing Li couldn’t suppress his curiosity about the matter.

Qin Zhao had previously revealed his identity to him, so Jing Li knew that Qin Zhao had once been the young emperor’s mentor. But he hadn’t shared much about what the emperor was like.

From the story Qin Zhao had told, Jing Li naturally assumed that the mastermind behind everything was the emperor himself.

However, Qin Zhao’s attitude seemed to suggest he was reluctant to suspect the emperor of foul play.

Unable to hold back, Jing Li asked, “What exactly happened between you and the young emperor?”

“I can tell you if you’d like, but don’t jump to conclusions,” Qin Zhao said, seemingly anticipating Jing Li’s reaction.

Jing Li nodded eagerly. “Mm, I understand.”

“I watched His Majesty grow up,” Qin Zhao began, taking a sip of tea before continuing. “He was the youngest son of the late emperor, born to one of his concubines. Before his birth, his mother had already fallen out of favor and been sent to the Cold Palace. He was born there, which is why he survived the initial struggles for the throne.”

The late emperor didn’t have just one son. In fact, all the other princes had died in power struggles. The only reason this child survived was that no one paid him any attention in the Cold Palace.

“The late emperor brought him out of the Cold Palace and sent him directly to my residence. My task was to teach him and protect him.”

“That child was very timid. When he saw me for the first time, he cried in fear. At the time, I had just come of age myself and had no idea how to handle a child. So, I left him standing in the courtyard to cry until he had cried himself hoarse and exhausted. Only then did I give him something to eat.”

Jing Li: “…”

Qin Zhao back then must have been terrifying.

Seeing Jing Li’s complex expression, Qin Zhao chuckled and asked, “What’s wrong? Scared?”

“No…” Jing Li shrank his neck and muttered, “I was just thinking, it’s a good thing I didn’t meet you ten years ago. Otherwise, I might’ve actually ended up in your cooking pot.”

No patience, cold and ruthless.

Truly befitting a Regent.

Qin Zhao frowned slightly, clearly dissatisfied with this description, but he didn’t comment further. Instead, he continued, “In the first few years after His Majesty ascended the throne, I purged the court in his name, creating quite a stir. That child was timid and soft-hearted, and I scolded him to tears more than a few times. But even so, whenever something happened, the first thing he thought of was to hide behind me.”

“It took me nearly seven years to teach him how to be a good emperor. I told him more than once that once he mastered his duties, I would step aside and let him take full control. I just don’t understand…”

He didn’t understand how that child, who had once only cried and hidden behind him, could have suddenly become so cunning and calculating.

“Let’s head to the capital earlier,” Jing Li suggested. “There’s no need to wait until November. We can rest in the village for a few days and then set off.”

With October just around the corner, if they departed after a brief rest and traveled by water, they could reach the capital by early November.

Arriving a day earlier would mean uncovering the truth a day sooner.

But Qin Zhao shook his head. “There’s no need to rush. Gu Changzhou still needs some time to prepare.”

“Let’s wait for the next secret message. Perhaps I’m just worrying unnecessarily.”

Jing Li eyed him, jealousy dripping from his tone. “I don’t think you’re overthinking. You’re worried the emperor might actually have some strange illness, aren’t you?”

Qin Zhao: “…”

What happened to not jumping to conclusions?

Jing Li lowered his head, fiddling with the teacup in front of him, his voice tinged with barely concealed bitterness. “You watched him grow up.”

“You taught him for seven years.”

“He cried and hid behind you whenever there was trouble.”

“And even now, you still trust him so much, convinced he wouldn’t harm you.”

So jealous.

The little fish fry was at an age where he couldn’t fully understand things but was extremely stubborn about what he believed. When he woke up and realized that his Little Dad wasn’t by his side, leaving him to sleep all alone in the water, he firmly decided that it must be because papa had bullied daddy and didn’t let him sleep on the bed.

That’s why he went to “comfort” Little Dad.

Jing Li spent quite some effort convincing the little fish fry that Little Dad hadn’t been bullied and daddy hadn’t stopped Little Dad from sleeping on the bed.

The little fish fry frowned, his face a perfect replica of Qin Zhao’s, showing clear suspicion. However, out of his unconditional trust in daddy, he let out an “uh-huh” and obediently slid down from Jing Li’s arms, wobbling over to Qin Zhao and asking daddy to pick him up.

Holding his “lost and found” son, Qin Zhao sighed helplessly, “I really can’t afford to upset you anymore. Even our son sides with you.”

“Upset one of you, and I’ll end up with both mad at me, and no way to smooth things over.”

“Obviously,” Jing Li replied smugly with a laugh, before adding, “By the way, don’t change the subject. We weren’t done talking about earlier. What’s your plan? Didn’t you say something about heading back to Linxi Village first?”

Qin Zhao’s expression hesitated slightly.

He suddenly seemed to find the little fish fry’s clothing extremely interesting, lowering his head to fuss with it.

Jing Li instinctively felt that his reaction was strange. A sudden flash of insight made him suspect something: “You’re not planning to leave me and the fish fry in Linxi Village and head to the capital alone, are you???”

“…Ahem.”

Jing Li snatched the fry back into his arms and said expressionlessly, “No explanations, no holding him.”

Qin Zhao: “…”

“Well, I did…” Qin Zhao carefully chose his words and said slowly, “I did… consider it.”

Jing Li narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

Clearing his throat, Qin Zhao explained, “Heading to the capital this time is fraught with uncertainties. If you two stay with me, it could be dangerous. Leaving you in Linxi Village would give me peace of mind.”

Jing Li hugged the fish fry tightly and muttered, “I don’t want that.”

Qin Zhao had anticipated this reaction.

Heading to the capital had always been part of his plan. With the authorities tightening checks on travelers, especially someone like him without an established identity, it was impossible to enter the capital under the guise of a merchant or laborer—let alone the imperial city.

Entering as a scholar heading to the imperial examination provided the perfect cover.

However, to use this route, he would need to arrive in the capital at least a month before the imperial examination.

The imperial examination’s first session was held every year on the ninth day of February, and the journey from Jiangling Prefecture to the capital took a month and a half. Calculating backwards, he would need to set off no later than the end of November.

As for when he would return, that was uncertain.

Such a long separation was something his little husband would never agree to, which was precisely why Qin Zhao had not brought it up earlier.

Jing Li said firmly, “I can agree to anything else, but not this. Don’t even think about leaving me behind.”

The little fish fry chimed in with a protesting “Hmph!”

In truth, the fish fry had no idea what his two fathers were talking about. He simply sensed that daddy seemed upset again and naturally had to help him out.

Faced with one big and one small protestor, Qin Zhao found himself with a splitting headache. “Let me finish…”

“There’s no need to say anything. No matter what you say, I won’t agree,” Jing Li interrupted. “The fish fry and I won’t cause you trouble. If we go with you to the capital, we can continue taking care of you. Otherwise, what will you do if you fall ill again?”

“But…”

“No buts. If it’s not up for discussion, then none of us will go. We’ll all stay in the village together. It’s not like we’re lacking food or drink now.” Jing Li’s tone was resolute.

Unable to win the argument, Qin Zhao had no choice but to agree for now.

Once the serious conversation was over, Jing Li could no longer resist his exhaustion. He rubbed his eyes, finally succumbing to the weariness brought on by his fluctuating emotions over the past few days and his sleepless night.

“Get some sleep. I’ll stay with you.” Qin Zhao gently removed the fish fry from Jing Li’s arms and helped him lie back down on the bed.

He then sternly instructed the little fish fry, “Daddy is very tired. Don’t make any noise. Let him rest properly, alright?”

“I know.” The fish fry obediently climbed into the space between Jing Li and Qin Zhao, lying still and quiet.

His tone and phrasing were almost identical to Jing Li’s. Qin Zhao tucked the blanket around him and then lay down as well.

With the little one nestled in between them, Qin Zhao couldn’t hold his little husband like he used to while sleeping. Instead, he lay awake, quietly watching Jing Li’s peaceful face. Every now and then, he would reach out to brush the strands of hair that fell onto Jing Li’s cheek back behind his ear.

“Qin Zhao…” Jing Li murmured drowsily, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’m being unreasonable?” Jing Li didn’t open his eyes, his voice muffled as half of his face was buried in the blanket. “But if you go to the capital, even a single letter will take over a month to reach me. I can’t bear not seeing you for so long or hearing anything from you.”

In this era, being separated by distance meant a complete disconnection.

There were no means of communication, no news. At the shortest, it could be months; at the longest, one or two years. They wouldn’t even know if the other was alive or dead.

Jing Li couldn’t endure such a life.

“I understand,” Qin Zhao replied softly. “But what about me? Do you think I’m being unreasonable?”

“Huh?”

Qin Zhao continued, “I could stay here and live a peaceful life with you without worrying about anything else. But instead, I insist on going to the capital and stirring up trouble. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m being too unreasonable myself.”

In truth, Jing Li wasn’t wrong—there wasn’t only one path ahead for Qin Zhao.

He had a safer choice: to take his little husband back to the countryside, live under a false name, and spend the rest of their days in peace. With Gu Changzhou in Jiangling Prefecture and the provincial governor being an ally, it wouldn’t be difficult for them to live out their lives safely under their protection.

But if he chose to move forward, the road ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger.

It might even put his family at risk.

This was the very question Deng Tianyou had asked him during their meeting the previous night.

“…I don’t understand. Why not stay in Jiangling? It’s been so long since it happened. As for what happened back then… if His Majesty really intended to eliminate you, wouldn’t returning now be walking straight into a trap?”

Qin Zhao had heard this question more than once. Even his loyal servant Ah Qi had once asked why, if Gu Changzhou wasn’t allowed to rebel, Qin Zhao was still so determined to go to the capital.

He had never given a direct answer.

“I understand you,” Jing Li said, leaning over and resting his head on Qin Zhao’s shoulder. “As long as you don’t leave me behind, I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

Before, Jing Li had guessed Qin Zhao’s identity and deeply hoped he wouldn’t go to the capital.

At the time, he didn’t know all that had transpired, and he feared the dangers Qin Zhao might face on such a journey. He didn’t want him to take that risk.

But today, after Qin Zhao shared stories of his past—without mentioning the specific reason for going to the capital—Jing Li could sense what was in his heart.

He was unwilling to accept his fate.

The Qin Zhao of years past had dared to shoulder the heavy responsibilities entrusted to him by the late emperor, single-handedly cleansing the court inside and out. He was a man of unmatched pride. Yet now, even a slight breeze could leave him bedridden, relying on medicinal decoctions just to get by.

Such a life was unbearable for anyone, let alone a man like him.

Jing Li understood him and was willing to support him.

Of course, the condition was that Qin Zhao absolutely could not leave him behind.

Even if Qin Zhao thought he was being unreasonable, it didn’t matter.

“Besides, don’t forget, I’m useful too,” Jing Li added. “The fish fry and I are both koi, you know? With us by your side, we’ll bring you good fortune. Anyone who dares to harm you will definitely meet a bad end.”

Qin Zhao chuckled softly, choosing not to argue. “Alright, I’ll do as you say.”

“Promise?” Jing Li pressed.

“Promise,” Qin Zhao replied. “Your husband was once second only to the emperor himself. I can’t let you and the child suffer any real grievances.”

Jing Li mumbled something in response, as though a burden had finally been lifted from his heart, and soon fell silent.

Did he just fall asleep?

Qin Zhao tilted his head to look. Jing Li’s head was still resting against his shoulder, and he was sound asleep.

“You were so worried about being afraid after learning the truth, and now you fall asleep just like that? Doesn’t look like you’re scared at all…” he murmured.

Qin Zhao muttered softly to himself, only to have a small, chubby hand press against his lips.

The little fish fry covered Qin Zhao’s mouth with a serious look. “Shh.”

Although Qin Zhao had already promised not to leave Jing Li behind, they had sent a letter to the village beforehand, stating that they would return to Linxi Village soon. Thus, the two decided to stick to their original plan and make a brief trip back.

“Take this too; the wind at night in the village is strong.” The day before their departure, Jing Li was up early, busily packing their clothes.

Watching Jing Li bustle about, Qin Zhao couldn’t help but ask, “Are you planning to stay in the village until winter?”

“Of course not. We agreed to only stay for a few days,” Jing Li replied. “Unless you still want to leave me there.”

Qin Zhao quickly shook his head, denying it.

Since he had promised Jing Li, he wouldn’t go back on his word. However… they were only going to the village for a short stay, yet Jing Li was packing as if they were moving house. It left Qin Zhao feeling helpless.

“Baby, you’re stepping on daddy’s robe!”

“Qin Zhao, if you’re not going to help, take the little fish fry outside and stop getting in the way.”

The house was a chaotic scene of noise and commotion when Ah Qi knocked on the door.

The door wasn’t closed. Qin Zhao had just pulled the baby out of a pile of clothes and responded without turning his head, “Come in.”

Ah Qi paused for a moment, stunned by the mess inside, but quickly remembered his task and walked up to Qin Zhao. “Sir, a message has arrived from the capital.”

Everyone in the room froze.

Earlier in the year, Gu Changzhou had gone to the capital under the pretense of delivering fabrics to the royal family. In reality, he was setting up an intelligence network in advance to prepare for Qin Zhao’s journey to the capital.

The network was still in its early stages, so messages traveled slowly. This was the first time Qin Zhao had received news from the capital.

Jing Li immediately set aside his work, took the fish fry into his arms, and sat quietly to the side. Ever since Qin Zhao had come clean with him, he had stopped hiding things. Jing Li knew this was Qin Zhao’s way of accommodating him and tried his best not to disturb him during serious matters.

Qin Zhao said nothing, directly opening the letter.

After reading it, he remained silent for a moment.

He dismissed Ah Qi with a wave and placed the letter into the brazier to burn.

“What’s wrong?” Jing Li asked softly, noticing the somber look on Qin Zhao’s face.

Staring at the ashes of the letter from the capital, Qin Zhao finally spoke. “The message from the capital says that the current emperor caught a cold in autumn and has been bedridden ever since. He has now retired to the harem to recuperate and hasn’t attended court for dozens of days.”

“…Huh?”

Jing Li blinked, not fully grasping the implications. His first reaction was…

Was his koi luck really that effective?

All those nights he spent cursing the emperor’s poisoner before bed weren’t wasted after all!

In the winter month, the village was quiet and silent, even the dogs were curled up and sleeping in their beds. Only one mud house still had a bean lamp burning.

The elderly Zheng couple was not asleep at this time. Their fourth son had come back from the county town overnight to raise some money. His teacher was seriously ill, but due to poverty, they couldn’t afford expensive medicines. They had to rely on the students to pool together whatever they could, hoping for a bit of relief.

However, the elderly couple kept quiet about the lingzhi mushrooms that Lin Shuishi had given them, only packing all the little money they had for their son to take to the teacher. They were determined not to give away Lin Shuishi’s things! First, because they were someone else’s property; second, they feared that such treasures might bring misfortune.

Zheng Cheng’an was anxious. Although it was not ideal to ask home for money, his parents’ finances were not abundant. But with the teacher’s life hanging by a thread, the remedy his senior brother had prescribed was useless without the necessary medicine! They could only make up for the household finances later; after all, human lives were paramount!

Just as he was about to hire a cart and head to the county town with the money, the family heard urgent knocking on the door. At this hour, neighbors usually didn’t visit.

Puzzled, they heard Lin Shuishi’s voice from outside, “Uncle Zheng, Aunt Zheng, open the door, I have an urgent matter!”

Old Man Zheng hurried to unfasten and open the door, while Aunt Zheng said to their fourth son, “It’s Shuishi, whom we mentioned in the letter. Take care of him in the future.”

When the door was opened, Old Man Zheng was startled. How could the child look like this after just one night? His eyes were swollen, and his face was ashen! They quickly welcomed him inside and gave him a cup of hot water.

In the main room were only the elderly couple and Zheng Cheng’an; the other three sons were sleeping in their rooms, as it was not appropriate to let the daughters-in-law know about the money matters. The money had all been given to the younger brother!

Seeing Lin Shuishi in such a state, Aunt Zheng was anxious, “What happened, child? Did you encounter thieves during the night?”

Feeling Aunt Zheng’s warm hand on his cheek, Lin Shuishi’s eyes reddened, and he said the first thing upon entering, “Uncle, Aunt, I need to find a doctor, the best doctor here!” He then placed a basket of animal skins and lingzhi mushrooms on the table.

Zheng Cheng’an saw Lin Shuishi entering the house and first stood respectfully by the table. But seeing that the young man, who had just been saved by his parents, had spilled a pile of valuable furs and, most importantly, three large and excellent lingzhi mushrooms, which were extremely rare and not easily bought with money, he was astonished.

The elderly couple quickly packed the items back up, asking as they did, “What’s wrong? What’s hurting?”

Lin Shuishi thought for a moment and explained that there was someone in the mountains, a hunter who had saved his life. He didn’t reveal the full details to avoid damaging his reputation and only gave a partially true account, blending fact with fiction to make the story coherent.

Sometimes the truth is hard to believe, like surviving among wolves in Dongshan Mountain and being as fierce as a wild beast. But a fabricated story can be instantly convincing. They were puzzled how Lin Shuishi survived in the deep mountains; now hearing he had a benefactor, it all made sense!

The old man immediately wanted to call the village’s barefoot doctor, thinking that the problem was likely just a fall or injury. But Zheng Cheng’an held him back, “Lin Shuishi, I am your fourth brother Cheng’an.”

Lin Shuishi, feeling anxious, didn’t pay much attention and approached Zheng Cheng’an. Unlike the old man, Zheng Cheng’an and the three sons were different, probably due to his education. Though young, he was not impetuous but gentle and refined, wearing a plain long robe and exuding calmness.

“Tell me what illness it is, and then we can decide on the doctor with the parents,” he said, speaking calmly and methodically, not loudly like the villagers.

Lin Shuishi remembered that this fourth brother was from the town’s academy, so he assessed the situation and did not specify the illness. “Fourth brother, do you know of any reputable doctors in the town who are knowledgeable about herbs and can be trusted? I’ll use these items to invite him!” He pointed to the packed basket.

Cheng’an understood and realized that the benefactor’s illness might be related to poison, which could not be publicly discussed. He thought for a moment and looked back at his father, who was still eager to find the barefoot doctor.

“Is this benefactor of yours a hunter from the mountains?” He needed to investigate thoroughly. If he brought about some major trouble through his connections, it would be a problem not just for him, but for the whole family. And the person treating the illness would be wronged as well.

Lin Shuishi thought to himself that scholars are indeed meticulous, but considering Fuli’s daily activities in the deep mountains, what major enemies could he possibly have?

“He’s been hunting in the mountains and rarely interacts with others. This time, he must have been accidentally injured.”

Worried about wasting time, Lin Shuishi narrowed his eyes, “They are just mountain villagers. Fourth Brother, scholars can’t handle bloodshed. Don’t trouble yourself. Just tell me the location, and I will find the doctor myself!”

Cheng’an was surprised by Lin Shuishi’s temper! He hadn’t been like this when he was a child. He was always passive and didn’t resist when teased. It was his brothers who had to drive away bullies to protect him.

He quickly stopped Lin Shuishi and forced a smile, “Fourth Brother is clumsy with words. Don’t mind it. Scholars are just struggling to survive, nothing more.”

Seeing Lin Shuishi’s urgency, he got straight to the point, “As for an expert in medicinal herbs, I have a very reliable candidate.”

Cheng’an glanced at Lin Shuishi’s expression but realized that he was considered family, so he continued, “He is my eldest senior brother. He is the son of the Chief Imperial Physician. His family was implicated due to the imperial power struggles, and he was the only one who escaped. He is now living in this remote county, quietly getting by.”

Upon hearing this, Lin Shuishi was immediately interested. Although this person’s background was tragic, being the son of an imperial physician meant he had a wealth of knowledge! However, he was unsure of the cost and whether he would be willing to get involved. Those who have been through great trials often prioritize their own safety, and Lin Shuishi, with his modern mindset, considered this aspect.

He hesitated and looked troubled as he said to Cheng’an, “Will he be willing to come? Moreover, I have just been rescued from the mountain by my uncle and don’t have much money. What if this basket of goods is not enough?”

Cheng’an thought Lin Shuishi was hesitating over his senior brother’s identity, but was surprised to hear that Lin Shuishi was concerned about the money! The words almost caught in his throat. Looking at the three large and excellent lingzhi mushrooms, he was stunned—money was an issue?

He didn’t realize that, aside from the lingzhi, even those few rare furs could fetch a good sum if sold to a clothing store!

After a moment of thought, he spoke up and even performed a bow directly to Lin Shuishi. In this era, scholars did not bow to common people, especially not to a young man. Lin Shuishi quickly avoided it, “Fourth Brother, what are you doing!”

Cheng’an thought for a moment, and with a troubled and somewhat ashamed expression, said, “Lin Shuishi, I won’t hide it from you. We came home to raise money for the teacher’s life-saving medicine. Now that we see your lingzhi, there’s nothing more suitable! Although the price doesn’t quite match, I would like to ask my senior brother to treat your benefactor. He will surely cure him!”

Lin Shuishi, standing by the table, waited for Cheng’an to continue. Cheng’an, looking extremely troubled, finally spoke, “It’s not about the consultation fee. I only ask for one lingzhi to treat my master’s illness!” The price of lingzhi is high, and it could be used for multiple treatments. Cheng’an himself felt a bit shameless making this request.

Old Man Zheng frowned, “How can this be considered a single matter? Fourth Son, have you read all the wrong books?”

Lin Shuishi was overjoyed, thinking that the lingzhi and furs were secondary; saving Fuli was the most crucial. He immediately smiled and said, “That’s alright, these are all for you. Quickly take me to find your senior brother!” He picked up the basket and tugged at Cheng’an to head outside!

Just then, as if recalling something, he paused and turned back to speak earnestly to Old Zheng, “Uncle, don’t let anyone come up the hill.” Seeing the tearful-eyed young man, Old Zheng nodded seriously. Only then did they leave the house.

So the old couple could only sigh inside their house, but since it was their own son who wanted to save his mentor, they couldn’t stop him and just hoped that Shui Ge’er would be able to fulfill his wishes.

Cheng’an didn’t expect him to be in such a hurry, tugging on an unmarried young man, which wasn’t a good look. “Shui Ge’er! Wait a moment, I’ll call for the Zhao family’s ox cart!”

Lin Shuishi had just seen a glimmer of hope, but as soon as he heard about an ox cart, he shook his head immediately. “An ox cart! When would we ever get back with that?”

“Well, the fastest we could get back would be tonight.”

“What?” Lin Shuishi couldn’t allow that, so he let go of Cheng’an and quickly ran up the slope.

The King of Horses hadn’t left after sending him back! It had been led by the little horse to explore the entire area behind the slope, thoroughly stepping over the small hill. At that moment, it was in Lin Shuishi’s den in their eyes—a little mound of earth that could emit smoke.

Lin Shuishi saw the King of Horses sniffing the soybean meal and fine grass in the little horse’s feeding trough, even taking a bite and seeming quite satisfied, then taking another bite. “Great! You haven’t left yet, can you take me on another trip?”

He glanced at the soybean meal residue at the King of Horses’ mouth. “I’ll give you a few bags to take back and eat at your leisure!”

…

Cheng’an was standing at the bottom of the slope, puzzled as he watched Lin Shuishi suddenly run back. But then he saw a small black horse leisurely making its way down from the courtyard wall. He couldn’t help but marvel, “What a fine horse! It’ll be majestic in the future!”

As he praised it, he saw Lin Shuishi descending the slope alongside another extremely tall and strong horse. Little Shui Ge’er, even when standing up straight, was only as tall as the big black horse’s legs! That sleek, shiny coat and proud stance—he had never seen such a fine horse!

Cheng’an was both surprised and curious. “Where did this horse come from?” This wasn’t a horse that an ordinary person could own.

Lin Shuishi gently tugged at the thick, flowing mane of the King of Horses, and the King, understanding his intent, knelt down. Otherwise, no one could have mounted this king’s back.

He was a child raised in the modern greenhouse, with his parents building barriers around him, severing the steps beneath him. In the end, he hadn’t really experienced the human world. But now, he was truly pulled into the mortal realm, crawling and struggling through it.

The process might be bitter, but this is the taste of being “human.”

Before long, Cheng’an finally emerged from the city gates with a middle-aged man sporting a long beard. The man had an air of ruggedness about him, and his clothes weren’t very tidy, but the medicine chest slung by his side was exceptionally clean! It was made of fine oil wood, polished to a shine.

The two of them zigzagged their way through the forest, ensuring no one was watching, before they finally arrived at Lin Shuishi’s side.

Sun Luqian had been at home pondering medicinal formulas that day, thinking about his master’s illness and how to treat it without using expensive herbs. But then he heard his junior apprentice brother knocking at the door. This younger brother, though born into a farming family, was young yet honest and steady. Sun Luqian wondered if the money for buying the medicine had finally come through, so he went to open the door immediately.

When the two met, there was another story to be told. After they discussed the matter of exchanging spirit medicine, Sun Luqian decisively agreed and immediately went inside to fetch his medicine chest.

He knelt before several ancestral tablets, calmly saying, “Grandmaster and parents above, our Sun family has been famous physicians for generations. We rose through medicine and fell because of it, and now I’m the only one left in the family.” After saying this, he looked at the tablets in the room and took a deep breath.

“I once vowed not to treat poisons again, but after wandering for years, I realized that while fate is beyond our control, filial piety and benevolence remain!”

After speaking, he kowtowed a few times, then, without another word, grabbed the medicine chest that was also placed on the table with the tablets and walked out the door with his junior apprentice brother.

Who would have thought that his brother would be so secretive just to leave the city, taking several twists and turns? Sun Luqian thought it was unnecessary until he saw the majestic sight in the forest! The Sun family was no ordinary household; they once held a place in the imperial city, with a level of insight far beyond the norm. He had even seen the emperor’s horses, with his grandfather once receiving a steed as a reward.

But no imperial horse could compare to the King of Horses before him! This was a breed that grew freely in the deep mountains, of the purest and most robust bloodline, untamable by any man. It was proud, elegant, and seemed to carry a hint of divine spirit.

Seeing his senior’s reaction, Cheng’an feared he might misunderstand, so he quickly explained, “This horse is here to help; it’s not a possession of any noble family. Let’s hurry; it needs to return to the mountains before dark.” He repeated Lin Shuishi’s words to persuade his senior to mount the horse.

The King of Horses was so tall and strong that even with three people riding, there was still ample space. It stood up, feeling the weight, and decided it was manageable—it wasn’t as heavy as that “wolf” it had carried before. So it stretched its legs and dashed back to the village like the wind.

Along the way, they might have encountered the occasional cart or pedestrian, but before anyone could marvel, the black horse had already sped past, vanishing from sight.

Before noon, they had already reached the village.

The majestic horse came up the less-traveled slope, leaping into Lin Shuishi’s courtyard in a single bound. Sun Luqian, with the heart of a healer, immediately dismounted and followed Lin Shuishi into the house, though he stumbled a bit as he hadn’t landed firmly.

He and Lin Shuishi rushed inside to save the patient, while Cheng’an went down the slope to inform his father and reassure the elderly couple.

Inside the house, Lin Shuishi anxiously crouched by the warm kang bed, closely observing Fuli’s pallid face. He couldn’t help but repeatedly place his delicate little finger under Fuli’s nose to feel the faint breath, only then could he feel at ease.

Sun Luqian had already moved past the initial shock of seeing Fuli. He reminded himself that the descendants of the Sun family had nothing to fear! So what if the patient was a bit more imposing and wild? He had seen people from other tribes before.

But he had never seen anything like this. As far as he knew, no other tribe had such a build and physique!

As a healer, he didn’t focus on appearance or skin color, but during the process of treating the wound, he felt the bones…

No one could have such copper skin and iron bones!

The wound on this man’s shoulder and back was clearly inflicted by a barbed heavy arrow, tearing the flesh into shreds, with a massive wound that wouldn’t easily heal. For an ordinary person, the poison on the arrow alone would have been lethal. Just the arrow itself would have pierced them through, leaving them dead beyond a doubt!

But with his incredibly strong muscles and bones, he managed to stop the heavy arrow from penetrating beyond his scapula! The arrow didn’t reach his vital organs at all. Although the torn flesh looked terrifying, it wasn’t as bad as it seemed; he only fell unconscious because of the potent poison.

Sun Luqian took his pulse again and wiped the wound with a cloth strip, bringing it to his nose to smell the lingering traces of the poison.

“How is he? Is he doing alright?” Lin Shuishi couldn’t help but ask every now and then.

The doctor reassured him, “You did well in treating him. You’ve already drained the poisonous blood. Now, we just need to analyze the toxin and find a way to counteract it.”

Lin Shuishi looked at Fuli’s torn shoulder and back. “Shouldn’t we stitch it up? Otherwise, it’ll take forever to heal.”

Sun Luqian dismissed his suggestion as childish nonsense. The human body isn’t like clothes or shoes that you can just stitch up! “You’re being silly, young man.”

Then, Lin Shuishi explained in detail how he had stitched up a wolf’s belly, and he discussed the possibility of suturing to promote wound healing with the doctor, who had once been a famed imperial physician.

In the end, Sun Luqian found the young man’s ideas intriguing, opening up a new perspective on medicine. Though it seemed somewhat playful, if proven true, it could be a valuable method to benefit the poor, sparing them the expense of rare and costly wound medicines!

Lin Shuishi didn’t mind the doctor using Fuli as a test case. After all, modern medicine had already proven the effectiveness of surgical procedures.

Next came the detoxification. Lin Shuishi watched as Sun Luqian respectfully opened his medical chest and took out numerous silver needles of various lengths and thicknesses. It was an eye-opening experience—this was the true heritage and depth of a family of physicians!

Using fire to sterilize the needles, his movements were swift and precise, his fingers working with such dexterity that it left Lin Shuishi in awe!

The acupuncture process was long, extending into the afternoon. The Zheng family didn’t dare disturb them, quietly bringing in food and then leaving.

Sun Luqian was drenched in sweat because the poison in Fuli was not only rare but also extremely potent. Considering Fuli’s strong physique, the fact that he was still unconscious spoke volumes about the poison’s lethality against an ordinary person.

Lin Shuishi kept wiping sweat from the doctor’s forehead and removing the poison from Fuli’s body. As the acupuncture drew out the toxins, dark purple blood continuously oozed from the needle points, dripping down Fuli’s strong body.

It wasn’t until dinner that Sun Luqian finally finished the acupuncture. He let out a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. The poisonous blood had been fully expelled. He then wrote out a prescription and asked his junior apprentice brother to return to the county to fetch the medicine.

Lin Shuishi felt very sorry for the doctor, who now had a black eye. During the treatment, perhaps due to the acupuncture’s effectiveness, Fuli had reflexively twitched his muscles and slightly raised his hand, and then…

“Mr. Sun, thank you for your benevolence as a healer! You’re truly amazing.” Lin Shuishi stammered, not knowing what else to say. He had never seen such miraculous medical skills, not even in modern times, where a dying person could be treated until their breathing stabilized!

He wanted to express his gratitude by offering money, but the doctor only asked for a single lingzhi mushroom and seemed to feel guilty about it. It was only then that Lin Shuishi realized the true value of such items. His heart tightened as he thought of the gravely injured Fuli inside the house. From that moment on, he decided never to speak of lingzhi mushrooms again—money wasn’t worth more than life.

As he thought about the tranquility of Dongsheng Mountain, he resolved to keep any information that might arouse greed buried deep within him.

No treasures should be sought if it means preserving peace in the mountains.

Uncle Zheng finally made it up the slope and, seeing his fourth son and the doctor preparing to leave, hurriedly said, “Why not stay for a meal before you go? It’s late, and who knows when you’ll get back.”

Sun Luqian quickly declined, “No, no need to trouble you! We need to hurry back, grind the ingredients into powder, and prepare the medicine for our master. His illness is serious!”

With those words, no one dared to insist further, and they quickly hitched the cart to take the doctor back to the county.

Sun Luqian was a cautious and prudent gentleman who had endured hardships. From that day on, he never mentioned the majestic black horse or the fiery lingzhi mushroom again, not even to his master. He simply said that he had modified the prescription and used more affordable medicinal ingredients.

Before leaving, he looked at the darkening evening sky and said to Lin Shuishi in front of everyone, “The patient should take the medicine according to the prescription. After recovery, he may become stronger and more robust. Don’t be alarmed; it’s just the effect of the medicine.”

Lin Shuishi looked at this seemingly ordinary man sitting in the ox cart, stunned for a moment, then respectfully bowed deeply to Sun Luqian, remembering this kindness. Understanding without revealing, knowing without speaking—this was a way to protect both himself and Fuli.

Sun Luqian accepted the gesture, and only then did Lin Shuishi step forward and push a basket filled with sliced lamb into Sun Luqian’s hands. Fearing he might refuse, Lin Shuishi said, “It’s just some lamb, nothing valuable. Take it back and stew it for a meal with some wine.”

The middle-aged scholar with a short beard on the cart looked at the pure-hearted young man in front of him, nodding. This little guy reminded him so much of his younger brother back in the day! But now, his younger brother’s bones lay buried at the frontier.

As the ox cart began to move, he added softly, “Once he recovers, let him return to the mountains to hunt.”

When extraordinary people emerge from the mountains, extraordinary events often follow. Whether good or bad, they easily provoke conflict, ultimately leading to nothing but trouble. It’s safest to live quietly in a secluded mountain or forest, unknown to the world. He hoped this gentle Shui Ge’er could live a peaceful life.

Lin Shuishi understood his meaning. When it came to surviving safely in this era, no one present had more experience than Sun Luqian.

He watched as the ox cart gradually disappeared down the path leading to the village entrance.

Turning back, Old Man Zheng was moving bags of soybean meal. This was good fodder for livestock, not too expensive, and every household planted some every year. This year, the Zheng family had lost a horse, so they had more than they needed and decided to give the rest to Lin Shuishi to feed the little black horse. That little thing was the apple of Old Zheng’s and the eldest Zheng brother’s eye!

Lin Shuishi didn’t refuse. He had already handed over a few poor-quality hides, not too eye-catching, and had asked his fourth brother to take them to town to exchange for some silver. All these things would eventually be paid back to Uncle Zheng, as nothing in a farming family comes for free.

He and Uncle Zheng carried the bags together, but Lin Shuishi couldn’t lift much and had to settle for carrying a small bag.

Walking ahead, Old Man Zheng spoke, “Shui Ge’er, why not let your benefactor stay at my place to recover? It’s easier to take care of someone in a bigger household, and with a man of that size, you can’t even move him easily.”

After thinking for a moment, he added, “And besides, he’s a man. The villagers might gossip.”

Lin Shuishi didn’t see anything particularly scandalous about it. “Marrying” him off was something he couldn’t care less about! It was a joke to think he, a man, would bow down and serve as someone’s bride.

Moreover, if Fuli woke up surrounded by strangers in an unfamiliar environment, and if his ferocity returned, no one would be able to stop him! To avoid any potential disaster, Lin Shuishi knew he had to care for him himself.

After all, it was his responsibility, and he was happy to bear it.

“No need, Uncle. I can take care of him myself. I’m not concerned about reputation—life should follow its natural course.”

Old Man Zheng, having lived many years, understood Lin Shuishi’s thoughts. It seemed the match between him and Brother Lin’s family wasn’t going to happen! But when he thought of the powerful man inside Lin Shuishi’s house, even lying down, he still inspired fear. Surely, he was an excellent hunter, capable of taking good care of Lin Shuishi, ensuring he was well-fed. That way, Old Man Zheng could also have peace of mind.

Finally, the night was quiet. The King of Horses leaped out of the woods on the slope behind the house, carrying a few bags of agreed-upon soybean meal, and returned to the mountains at ease. The little black horse nuzzled its powerful protector, then stubbornly trotted back to the house.

But it no longer dared to stay in the main house, settling instead by the stove in the side room. The sight—or even the scent—of Fuli on the kang bed was enough to make its legs tremble!

The horse hadn’t forgotten how that “beast” had once clamped its neck and dragged it to the treehouse, then furiously loaded it with two heavy baskets. The horse had smelled the overwhelming scent of blood on Fuli back then and hadn’t dared to make a sound—it had forced itself to hold it in!

Lin Shuishi was cooking a hot meat broth, carefully feeding Fuli, who was lying on his side, a little at a time. Fuli’s complexion had finally improved; it was no longer so dark and lifeless, and there was warmth in his body now, with his breathing steady and deep. It didn’t seem like he was unconscious anymore, but rather in a deep sleep.

By the light of the small oil lamp, Lin Shuishi finally gathered the courage to closely observe this man’s face. Fuli’s strong and prominent facial features were the complete opposite of his own, which made him secretly smile—Fuli definitely had more of a manly aura!

Lin Shuishi thought to himself that he, too, should exercise more from now on, so that at least he could look more like a man!

So, there he sat, in the shadows cast by the oil lamp, crouching by the heated brick bed with his hands propping up his cheeks, staring blankly at Fuli for quite a while.

But he wasn’t self-conscious at all, and even started speaking to him, “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you! Even though I’m not very familiar with life here either.”

But then Lin Shuishi thought of how Fuli struggled even to speak properly and narrowed his eyes, “But I’m still a bit better off than you! You’ll have to rely on me!”

That night, he fell asleep beside Fuli. The room had only one more person in it, but it felt full! Lin Shuishi curled up under the blanket, inhaling that familiar scent, and drifted off into a deep sleep.

Lying beside Fuli, he no longer had those unsettling dreams.

In the silent valley, with the stars hanging low and clouds obscuring the dark moon, the pack of wolves prowls and fiercely holds the mountain ridge.

Beside the wolf king, Fuli’s burly body lies motionless on the ground. A thick arrow is cruelly embedded in his shoulder, and after so much time, the blood from the wound has dried, but it still shows a faint bruise, indicating poison.

Lin Shuishi is frozen in place, unable to believe what he’s seeing. It seems like an absurd dream to him—where did this arrow come from? Who could have injured such a formidable beast?

When he finally wakes up from the dream, he is still in the dirt hut on earth. Although they are still miles apart, both he and Fuli are safe.

The wolf king steps forward, gently pulling Lin Shuishi, leading him to Fuli’s side. Lin Shuishi kneels on the ground, trembling, reaching out to Fuli. The muscular movements of the back are familiar, but the usual warmth has turned cold.

“Fuli, Fuli. Fuli!” He calls out repeatedly. Normally, Fuli would gaze at him with dark golden eyes, but now there is only silence.

Lin Shuishi panics, feeling a lump in his throat, but looking around, there are only desolate mountains and a group of anxious white wolves. They are skilled in battle and fighting, but how could they heal? The wolf king’s belly was even ripped open by a bison, and he had to help sew it up himself.

Thinking of this, Lin Shuishi’s eyes light up. If the wolf king, so close to death, could fully recover, then surely Fuli, who is so strong, can too!

With newfound determination, he wipes the tears from his face and examines the wound.

The arrow is embedded deeply and the exposed part is covered with purple barbs. Lin Shuishi gasps. Who has invaded the Dongshan Mountains and used such a poisonous weapon?

The poisoned arrow must be removed, and the toxic blood squeezed out. Lin Shuishi tears off his woolen shawl, wrapping it around the barbed arrow. Taking several deep breaths, he gathers his courage, grips the thick arrow, and closes his eyes, pulling with all his might.

However, the barbs on the arrow tear at Fuli’s flesh, making it extremely difficult to remove. Lin Shuishi’s strength is insufficient for this task. As he grits his teeth and continues to pull, an old, large wolf steps out from the pack. The white wolves make way, and the wolf king steps aside.

The old wolf’s eyes are somewhat cloudy but still look at Fuli with sadness and affection. After a moment, realizing Lin Shuishi’s helplessness, she lowers herself closer.

Lin Shuishi feels a warm breath on his hand and looks up to see the old wolf leaning over the arrow. He urgently warns, “This arrow is poisoned, stay away!”

The old wolf does not move but looks up at Lin Shuishi. He is taken aback by the human-like eyes, filled with wisdom, emotion, the vastness of the stars, and the changes of the world.

The old wolf licks Lin Shuishi’s cold hand, and he instinctively releases the arrow. The old wolf tilts her head, bites onto the animal skin wrapped around the arrow, and with a shift in demeanor, her eyes become sharp. She digs her front claws into the ground, bites the arrow firmly, and with a shake of her head, the arrow is pulled out along with Fuli’s flesh.

Ignoring everything else, Lin Shuishi immediately moves to Fuli’s back, desperately squeezing the blood from the wound. Due to the barbs, the wound is both deep and wide. Even if he risked his life to suck out the poisoned blood, his small mouth cannot cover half of the wound! He can only press and squeeze out the blood.

The wound exudes a significant amount of purple-black tainted blood. Lin Shuishi then drags Fuli to the hot spring in the wolf den to clean the wound. The spring continuously bubbles up from underground and flows away, a source of fresh water that the wolves rarely drink, making Shuishi feel secure about using it to wash out the poison.

However, Fuli’s size is too large for Lin Shuishi to drag him by himself. Seeing this, the wolf king, having learned from the previous actions of his mother, immediately helps to pull Fuli along. He trusts Lin Shuishi’s method because it worked for him before; Fuli’s situation is different.

The wound on Fuli’s back is cleaned, but due to excessive bleeding, the flesh around it is stark white. Fuli remains motionless, showing no signs of waking up. Lin Shuishi worries that the poison has circulated through Fuli’s blood over time, and it can’t be managed by treating the wound alone!

He sits by the spring and thinks for a while before deciding that he must take Fuli down the mountain.

Only humans create various poisons to satisfy their own desires, and only humans possess the medical expertise to save lives from peril.

It’s both contradictory and complex.

Lin Shuishi, using his remaining strength, drags and carries Fuli to the ridge but is exhausted. After the shock, his limbs are weak, and he’s barely managing to keep going. The only hope is to get Fuli down the mountain for a chance of survival!

The strongest white wolf can barely carry Lin Shuishi across the ridge, but it’s impossible to transport a comatose Fuli. His large body and strong muscles make it impossible for him to hold onto the wolf’s back or find any leverage.

Reluctantly, Lin Shuishi lays animal hides from the cave beneath Fuli, using the remaining hides to tie Fuli to himself. He clenches his fists, biting his gums until they bleed, and struggles to drag Fuli behind him with the skin rope.

The wolf pack helps, grabbing the hard hides under Fuli and pulling together. Eventually, they make it through the grasslands and into the forest.

However, their speed is too slow. It’s uncertain whether Fuli can hold on until they reach the bottom of the mountain, and dragging him makes crossing the ridges impossible.

Lin Shuishi is overwhelmed with helpless sadness and torment. Fuli can save him, but he cannot save Fuli. The rope across his shoulders has already worn through and is swollen.

Unable to hold back his tears, Lin Shuishi, still young and inexperienced, feels furious at his own helplessness while being alone in a foreign world. But there’s nothing he can do.

He tightens the rope, gritting his teeth, and trudges forward despite the difficulty, tears falling onto the dry leaves and branches.

At this moment, the waning moon peeks out from the dark clouds, casting a faint light over the Dongshan Mountains, allowing him to see the surroundings. As Lin Shuishi pulls Fuli along, he suddenly hears a familiar, loud horse whinnying ahead.

Lin Shuishi looks up and sees a tall, strong black horse standing in front of the trees!

Its sleek, shiny coat glistens under the moonlight, and its muscular lines are well-defined. The night breeze gently ruffles its long mane, and with a toss of its head, the mane flows softly. The horse is robust and beautiful, like a mysterious spirit of the mountains.

Lin Shuishi, surprised, hoarsely calls out, “The Horse King!”

The wolf pack watches warily as the black horse leader approaches. They usually avoid each other, respecting and being cautious of one another. Now, in this moment of crisis, they are especially careful.

The wolf king stands in front of Lin Shuishi and Fuli, with fierce blue eyes glaring at the tall Horse King. The horse’s sturdy hooves can easily break a predator’s spine.

Soon, a smaller black horse, panting heavily, emerges from the forest. It doesn’t dare approach the wolf den but goes to find Lin Shuishi, bringing help with it! However, it can barely keep up with the pace of its mother and is exhausted.

With the arrival of the small black horse, the tense atmosphere eases somewhat. The wolves recognize the little horse and the opportunity it presents, so they relax a bit.

Lin Shuishi, disregarding everything else, sees the strong Horse King and feels a surge of hope!

As if acknowledging this, the Horse King lies down on the ground. The wolf pack steps back, allowing Lin Shuishi, despite his struggles, to place Fuli on the horse’s back and secure him with the animal hides to prevent falling. The horse is so high that a fall could cause serious injury.

Fuli’s large body fits perfectly on the broad back of the horse! It’s just right! Lin Shuishi finally relaxes his tense face and calls the large wolf familiar with the mountain trails, still lying on its back.

The little horse saw that Lin Shuishi was riding the wolf instead of it! Annoyed, it stamped its hooves, but it understood that even without carrying anyone, it couldn’t keep up with its mother’s speed. It was too weak and needed to grow strong! Eat more, sleep more, and run more!

In the midst of the little horse’s rich imagination, the animals of the Dongshan Mountains, led by the white wolves and the Horse King, sped forward with Lin Shuishi and Fuli. The wolves led the way, and the Horse King galloped steadily behind them.

Both animals are known for their endurance and speed. Lin Shuishi felt that it wasn’t long before dawn, and he could already see Rehe Village!

As dawn approached, the wolf pack stopped advancing. They watched as the two horses and two people returned to the earthen house, and then they withdrew back to the Dongshan Mountains.

As the first light of dawn approached but had not yet arrived, the wolves in the mountains surrounding the Dongshan Mountains howled, all the wolves in the pack, regardless of type, looked up to the moon and howled to the sky, their voices echoing loudly.

Even the villagers down the mountain could faintly hear the sounds. Rehe Village felt a sense of awe, but the distant mountain village, which had a grudge with the wolf pack, was terrified and immediately moved several households as soon as it was light enough, unable to stay any longer!

Back in the house, Lin Shuishi settled Fuli, heated up the kang, and gave him some warm water. Then he took a bundle of hides and a few lingzhi mushrooms, packed them into a basket, and walked down the slope to the Zheng family’s house, knocking on the door. He needed to find the best doctor nearby for Fuli!

Lin Shuishi woke up abruptly from the dream, drenched in sweat, with his heart racing and breath short.

He sat up, gasping for air, with his throat feeling extremely dry. No matter how much he swallowed, it didn’t help. He should have gotten up to fetch some water to soothe his throat, but his legs were numb, as if the running in his dream had affected his real body.

This made him even more anxious, and while the details of the dream were fading from his mind, he could still vividly remember those beastly eyes that left him feeling cold with fear.

To keep warm, the wooden boards on the windows were tightly shut, not a single beam of moonlight could enter. The oil lamp on the kang cupboard had gone out, making the room both warm and dark.

Lin Shuishi restrained himself from coughing, and the little black horse in the side room poked its head out, sensing the atmosphere around. After hesitating for a moment, it walked over to the kang, stretching its small face to touch Lin Shuishi.

Feeling the warm little horse, Lin Shuishi held its head close and snuggled against it.

After such a strange and haunting dream, he needed comfort, even if it came from an immature little horse…

In the following days, since he started living alone, every night he would follow a glowing white wolf into the pond, as if experiencing another world. Intermittently, he witnessed the rise and fall of a tribe.

Until last night, where swords, spears, and flying stones shattered bloodied bodies, and the civilization collapsed in an instant, being destroyed and buried.

When Lin Shuishi woke up, he realized his eyes were filled with tears, wetting his pillow. But he didn’t know who he was crying for.

He inexplicably thought of Fuli, wondering if the grand and tragic tribe in his dream was just a figment of his imagination or if it was related to the mysterious past of the person with golden eyes far away.

He couldn’t distinguish between the two.

As dawn approached, Lin Shuishi got up to prepare. Yesterday, Old Man Zheng had told him that today they would go down for a meal, and his fourth son, Cheng’an, who was studying in the county, would be coming home for a few days.

Lin Shuishi had never met a scholar from this era and was curious. He also wanted to inquire about things in the town, preferably sell some hides and other useful items.

He called the little horse and went to push the wooden door at the entrance of the house. Despite pushing several times, the door wouldn’t open! It only opened a small gap, as if something heavy was blocking it from the outside.

The little horse, seeing this, got irritable! It backed up a few steps, kicked the door a few times, and then with a “whoosh,” it slammed into the door.

Lin Shuishi, unable to stop it in time, stared in amazement at the half-open door that had been knocked off its hinges. He turned stiffly to see the little horse still standing proudly in the cold wind outside.

The look of wanting to hit a horse was unmistakable.

Before he could get angry, he noticed something in the morning light at the door. Upon closer inspection, it was a strong ram with its spine bitten through!

It was placed neatly at Lin Shuishi’s doorstep in the early morning light without disturbing anyone.

Lin Shuishi immediately ran outside, his heart pounding with anticipation. He quickly glanced around but found no one. The only thing he saw were a few scattered wolf tracks on the dusty hillside behind the house. The tracks led back into the forest, their destination unknown.

He had to return and inspect the ram carefully. He wondered how the wolves knew he liked the tender meat of the ram and its thick hide. They had even gone through such a long journey to deliver it right to his doorstep.

Feeling a bit upset and emotional, he took several deep breaths to steady himself.

At that moment, Old Man Zheng’s booming voice came from below the slope, “Shuishi, come down quickly, we have meat to eat!”

Lin Shuishi was startled and glanced at the huge ram, realizing he couldn’t hide it. He decided to cut open the bite marks on the ram’s back with a knife to alter its shape and then called out to the mountain below, “Uncle! Come see, a ram fell from the slope and broke its neck!”

Old Man Zheng thought it was just the boy’s joke. When Shuishi was young, he was shy and timid, but now he had grown up, lively and bold, even surviving in the harsh environment of Dongshan. He thought it was amusing that Shuishi was now joking around with him. But he also appreciated that Shuishi had become spirited and wasn’t worried about future hardships!

Old Man Zheng, who was quite indulgent, had never been this lenient even with his youngest son. Regardless of whether the story was true or not, he decided to go up the slope to get his meal. However, when he reached the gate and saw the scene, he was dumbfounded.

A huge, snow-white ram lay in front of the house. The stiff neck of the ram was thicker than the waist of the boy standing there in a daze!

As an experienced hunter, Old Man Zheng was astonished by the sight. He quickly ran to Lin Shuishi and carefully checked him over, finding that he was indeed unharmed. He then turned his attention back to the ram.

He touched the ram and realized that it had died from a broken spine, although it seemed as if it had been killed by a large beast. However, there were no signs of such a beast in the vicinity, especially not on the slope behind Shuishi’s house. Not even a rabbit was around, let alone a giant beast.

While Old Man Zheng was pondering, Lin Shuishi quickly suggested, “Uncle, let’s not worry about where it came from. It fell down from the back mountain, so let’s just eat it!”

Old Man Zheng agreed, thinking it made sense. Since the ram was unclaimed, whoever found it could keep it! Moreover, if they handled it well, not only would they have plenty of meat, but even a good ram skin sold in the county could ensure a good winter for Shuishi.

After thinking it over, Old Man Zheng decided not to worry about anything else. He quietly called his son and wife down the slope, telling them to stop their work and skip their meal. They needed to take care of this windfall first.

Seeing them busy around his house, Lin Shuishi said, “Uncle, just take it to your place. Just bring me a leg of lamb.”

Before Old Man Zheng could respond, Lin Shuishi’s older brother and sister-in-law chimed in with a laugh, “Are you kidding, Shuishi? This is a free prize! If we take it down there, everyone will see it and get jealous. If it stays up here, no one will notice. It’s perfect!”

Aunt Zheng nodded in agreement, “That’s right. It’s also your find, so it’s a blessing for our family to get some of it. Even just having some meat is a stroke of luck!”

Dongsheng also commented while setting up a stove and boiling water, “Forget hunting! I’ve never even seen such a big ram before!”

Old Man Zheng laughed heartily, “I’d say, one way or another, no one can match Shuishi’s hunting skills! Born hunter, and he gets all kinds of game delivered right to his doorstep.”

Seeing the lively and cheerful scene, Lin Shuishi relaxed and helped Aunt Zheng clean the ram’s organs and intestines. Listening to Old Man Zheng’s praise, he smiled and said, “I call this waiting for rabbits by the stump!”

Dongsheng, while stoking the fire and looking at the energetic and blushing Shuishi, couldn’t help but grin foolishly, his own face reddening.

They quickly processed the ram. There was too much meat, and Lin Shuishi felt it would go to waste if they tried to eat it all. He kept only two legs and the hide, and asked them to take the rest back down the slope. The Zheng family reluctantly agreed, though Lin Shuishi insisted on eating some with every meal.

Even so, they ended up hauling several large baskets of meat, organs, and intestines up and down the slope multiple times.

“Uncle, since Fourth Brother is coming back tonight, why not invite the uncles and aunts who went up the mountain before to come and taste the lamb, and take some back with them?” Old Man Zheng had this idea but hesitated since Lin Shuishi hadn’t said anything. It’s not just winter that’s less favorable for hunting; even in summer, no one has managed to catch anything. This ram is a rare find.

Lin Shuishi’s good nature made Old Man Zheng like him even more. Under the sunlight, Shuishi’s face looked radiant, with two cute dimples when he smiled. Old Man Zheng suddenly felt his foolish son wasn’t worthy of such a good person and had wasted the chance.

At dinner, they invited the uncles and aunts, but someone sent word that Fourth Brother’s teacher was ill and he would return a day later. Old Man Zheng didn’t mind; after all, respecting teachers and education was important, and he wasn’t not coming back. So, he happily continued drinking and toasting with his brothers.

On the table, the lamb soup, roasted lamb, and lamb heart and liver stew with potatoes all smelled wonderful. The quality of the lamb was so good that no matter how it was cooked, it was deliciously fragrant.

Uncle Li, who had been drinking, began to share recent news, “It’s not just this lamb that’s unusual; the other day, some brothers from the mountains said they saw ghosts at the boundary river between the West Mountain and the Dongshan Mountain!”

Dongsheng’s eyes widened in surprise, “What? Where did they see ghosts?”

“They said they vaguely saw some strange figures, walking heavily and in formation, wearing thick clothing like armor. They crossed the boundary river and disappeared in the blink of an eye!”

Uncle Li chuckled and, in a lowered voice, added, “They say it’s ghost soldiers passing through!” The others shushed him, dismissing it as mere gossip.

For some reason, Lin Shuishi suddenly felt a chill, not out of fear but a sense of unease, as if he had caught a whiff of the bloodshed from the falling tower in his dream. He became choked up and couldn’t eat any more.

Once the gathering ended, Lin Shuishi and Old Man Zheng had already divided the lamb meat and handed it out to everyone. They didn’t take much for themselves—just seven or eight pounds per person—enough that no one had to push back too hard, and it would last long enough for their families to enjoy a bit of freshness.

Because the lamb was so aromatic, the men, thinking of their own families, accepted it with some embarrassment.

Lin Shuishi then bade farewell to the Zheng family and returned up the slope. He lit the stove and sat on it, feeling restless and with his eyes twitching incessantly. Instead of sleeping, he took out a tightly packed bundle of wolf fur, which he had previously degreased and turned into yarn that wouldn’t itch.

As he handled the bundle, he realized that the fur was soft and pliable, different from the stiff adult wolf fur he had processed before. It was actually the soft, baby fur of small wolves. Some of it was in large patches and some in small curls. Lin Shuishi recognized that this must be from the young wolves next to the wolf king’s den—those little wolves had naturally curly, fluffy fur, and were not very sociable, so he hadn’t gone into that den.

He was troubled, unable to imagine the scene of Fuli pulling at the baby wolf’s fur. He couldn’t help but smile, thinking that if anyone dared to offend him, they’d certainly end up with a stiff face and would just have to take it.

With a small oil lamp as his company, Lin Shuishi spun the yarn for a while until he began to feel sleepy. He turned off the oil lamp and lay down in the semi-warm bedding.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a noise at the door.

Lin Shuishi looked at the small horse lying on the floor; it was still in the room! Confused, he listened carefully and heard what sounded like claws scraping at the door.

He immediately thought it might be wolves! He quickly got up, unlatched the small lock, and lifted the small wooden panel on the door to look outside. The half-pages that had been damaged by the little horse’s careless kicking were reinstalled by Old Man Zheng, and an extra small latch was added for extra security.

Looking outside, he saw many wolves standing silently. The two gray wolves were among them, scratching at his wooden door, while the remaining dozen or so large white wolves were cautiously looking around, appearing somewhat anxious and restless.

Lin Shuishi hurriedly put on his clothes and opened the door latch. He wasn’t afraid of the familiar wolves.

However, as soon as he opened the door, the most imposing white wolves leaped at him instantly! They knocked him down, grabbed the collar of his coat, and tossed him onto their backs.

Without saying a word, the strongest alpha wolf, carrying the still bewildered Lin Shuishi, galloped towards the back of the house. With such a high leap, it soared up the mountain slope with ease, not swaying Lin Shuishi at all.

Lin Shuishi didn’t dare to scream; anyone who startled the wolves would be doomed!

In no time, they had taken Lin Shuishi away, disappearing from sight. The little black horse didn’t dare to intervene; it blinked its large eyes, said nothing, and followed after lifting its legs. The place was left with only an empty house.

Carried and guarded by the wolf pack, Lin Shuishi traversed the hard-to-reach mountain ranges, taking the shortest route into the Dongshan Mountain. The wolves were more cautious than ever, continuously monitoring the surroundings. Any sign of disturbance prompted groups of wolves to investigate immediately.

Lin Shuishi felt something was off but sensed no malice from the wolves. They had always treated him as part of their pack, caring for and protecting him.

As the moon reached its zenith, the wolves’ breaths became heavy, and they appeared exhausted. The familiar landscape gradually came into view, and they reached the wolf den on the ridge!

Lin Shuishi dismounted from the wolf’s back with a heart full of excitement, as if reuniting with an old friend. But his smile abruptly froze.

The wolves formed a circle around something in the center, their bodies smeared with dark blood and a purple substance. The wolf king, with a chunk missing from one ear, was still diligently sniffing at the ground.

Lin Shuishi’s face turned ashen, and his mind was filled with a “buzzing” sound.

When Old Man Zheng heard that Lin Shuishi wanted to visit his old home, he nodded inwardly, appreciating the child’s filial piety and respect for his roots.

He put down his work and quietly went inside to find a thick coat of his own, draping it over Lin Shuishi. Under his arm, he carried a stack of yellow paper money. Leading Lin Shuishi, he walked towards a small slope beside the house. Before long, a large courtyard with a wooden fence, situated on elevated terrain and backed by a hillside, came into view.

The courtyard appeared more orderly and spacious than the houses Lin Shuishi had seen on his way. The fence was solid and tall, about the height of a person. On either side of the courtyard were barns and livestock pens typical of a hunter’s home. In the center was a neat and tidy earthen house, facing south with walls smoothed evenly with mud.

However, it lacked the usual homely atmosphere found in farmhouses; though it was clean, it felt rather cold. The arched wooden windows on either side of the door were open, with hardwood slats providing ventilation and security.

As Lin Shuishi approached and looked through a small window, he saw that the house was not empty. It was fully furnished with tables, cabinets, and even a very large bow hung on the wall opposite the bed. It wasn’t dusty either, suggesting someone had been cleaning.

Old Man Zheng unlocked the door and entered, saying, “A few days ago, we went to your uncle’s house and brought back all the good wooden tables, chairs, and cabinets he had taken with him! Such people don’t deserve Brother Lin’s good things! Especially your father’s great bow—there isn’t anything better in the county. If no one could draw it, hmph, those two scoundrels would have sold it long ago!”

The old man reached out and touched the large bow with a sense of nostalgia. “It’s fortunate you’re back. All these items haven’t been brought back in vain!”

Lin Shuishi touched the firm, glossy bow and looked around the house that had once been his. It was indeed a good place to live. It was situated at a distance from other houses, separated by a small slope, which suited him well since he wasn’t one for socializing with neighbors. Moreover, it was not dilapidated and still quite new.

“Uncle Zheng, do you come here often to clean? I don’t see much dust.”

Old Man Zheng was fetching a basin and a fire starter from the outer room. “Yes, it’s a good house, built the year you were born, not even fifteen years old. We thought it best to keep it clean so it wouldn’t deteriorate, in case you might need it in the future.”

At the time, Bighead Sun’s wife had wanted the deed to sell it off, but he and his brothers did not agree. The houses in the mountain village weren’t worth much, so they gathered some money for his uncle to preserve Lin Shuishi’s current dwelling, though Old Man Zheng didn’t mention this.

Perhaps recalling the old days made him feel a bit melancholy. Old Man Zheng didn’t say much, and he and Lin Shuishi knelt in front of the courtyard gate, using the fire starter to burn a basin of paper money as an offering.

Seeing the flames burning, Lin Shuishi felt a deep and inexplicable emotion. He started to resonate and empathize with the body he inhabited, as if at that moment, he was not Lin Shuishi but Shui Ge’er himself, with scenes from his childhood replaying in his mind. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.

When the paper money was burned away, Lin Shuishi suddenly felt a release, as if there were no more restraints, and he felt remarkably light. Moved by the moment, he knelt again and bowed three times in the direction of the ashes, offering thanks for the reunion of his family and expressing gratitude for the body he now occupied.

Old Man Zheng sighed and said, “Child, stop crying. Live well from now on; it’s a way to repay your parents.” After cleaning up the fire starter and the iron basin and locking the door, he led Lin Shuishi down the slope.

As they approached Zheng’s home, Lin Shuishi had made up his mind. He decided it was better to address the main issue directly before entering the house where there would be many people—his elder sister-in-law, younger sister-in-law, and the old lady.

“Uncle Zheng!” Lin Shuishi called out. Old Man Zheng stopped and asked, “What is it, Shuishi?” Lin Shuishi, with his swollen eyes from crying, looked at the old man and said, “Uncle, I’ve decided to live on the slope by myself. It’s easier to avoid missing my parents, and I’m used to living alone in the mountains. I can manage by myself.”

The old man frowned when he heard this. “You’re just a child, weak and unable to carry or handle much! Cooking and maintaining a house will be difficult. How can I rest easy? What if you encounter thieves at night?”

But Lin Shuishi insisted on returning to live on the slope. Since they were not yet family and had spent little time together, Old Man Zheng couldn’t be too forceful. Lin Shuishi then added, “It’s not far. I can call out if needed. Uncle Zheng, you’ll still need to help me!”

Seeing the reason in Lin Shuishi’s words, Old Man Zheng agreed to let him stay, suggesting that if necessary, Dongsheng could visit the slope more frequently to check on him and help out.

That evening, it was not possible to move immediately. They needed to heat the stove in the house on the slope and remove the dampness and chill from the room. Lin Shuishi planned to do it himself, but his elder brother and Dongsheng quickly took wood and went to the slope without any discussion.

Lin Shuishi felt guilty, realizing he had added to the family’s workload, but there was nothing he could do. He resolved to repay their kindness slowly in the future.

Before moving, Zheng’s family made several trips to deliver daily necessities to the house on the slope, including firewood, rice, oil, salt, bedding, oil lamps, and even vegetables like cabbage and potatoes, which they stored in a two-meter-deep cellar on the slope. Although these items were not worth much, they alleviated Lin Shuishi’s immediate needs.

Lin Shuishi could not refuse their kindness and accepted everything. Before leaving, he opened a bamboo basket and took out several large fire mushrooms, insisting on giving them to Zheng’s family.

Old Man Zheng initially hurried to refuse the gift, as he cared for Lin Shuishi out of respect for an old friend and with thoughts of future family harmony, without expecting anything in return. Besides, none of them had ever seen such large and substantial Lingzhi mushrooms before! They must be worth a lot!

His elder sister-in-law’s eyes widened in surprise, “Where did you get these, Shuishi? They’re incredible!”

Lin Shuishi thought for a moment and decided he couldn’t keep it a secret, so he told them honestly, “I gathered them from the dense forest in Dongshan.”

The family had initially been curious about the location to try their luck, but when they heard “Dongshan,” they fell silent, afraid to speak.

Dongshan was a forbidden and dangerous place, a fear that ran deep in the blood of the villagers from Rehe. The brothers had risked their lives to find Lin Shuishi, and despite their skills and caution, they nearly perished at the hands of bears and wolves. After returning, they never mentioned Dongshan again.

Moreover, there was a precedent where villagers from Yuanshan Village went to Dongshan seeking treasures and ended up dead or mad. Even the villagers had suffered, with livestock disappearing mysteriously. No one dared to keep animals, fearing they would be silently devoured.

So, the family refrained from asking about the origin of the Lingzhi and chose to keep it secret. They believed that keeping such treasures hidden prevented unnecessary risks and preserved the tranquility of the villages under Dongshan.

Ultimately, Old Man Zheng accepted the Lingzhi, feeling that Lin Shuishi living alone already posed enough risks, and adding such valuable items was not a long-term solution. Lin Shuishi, unaware of the value of the Lingzhi, was pleased that Old Man Zheng accepted them.

He kept one of the largest Lingzhi for himself, planning to make a drink from it once he had heated the stove.

Before taking the little black horse up the slope, he was still teaching the family how to use the Lingzhi. “Auntie, boil it to make a drink or grind it into powder for cakes. It protects the liver, detoxifies, and helps prevent illness!”

Auntie Zheng choked and responded with a stiff expression. In her mind, she thought, eating a divine item from Dongshan? She felt it would be a waste if she didn’t offer a piece to the gods, as it might shorten her lifespan…

Nevertheless, Lin Shuishi finally moved into his new home. That evening, he sat alone on the warm kang, relieved and enjoying the peace and freedom.

But then he rolled over and took out the beautiful eggs wrapped in wolf fur, examining each one under the light. Seeing nothing unusual, he carefully placed them at the head of the kang, wondering if they would hatch in the future. While he was covering the eggs, rhythmic knocking sounds echoed from outside.

Lin Shuishi cautiously peered through the peephole in the wooden door and saw a horse’s face blocking the hole!

Since the little black horse had been left alone, it had trotted around the yard fence, leaping in and out, and was now tired of playing. It stared at Lin Shuishi through the door, with its long face and hooves kicking the door, as if saying, “Let me in!”

Lin Shuishi was both amused and exasperated. Didn’t this horse know it was just that—a horse? There was plenty of grass outside, but it seemed determined to sleep indoors. Unable to resist, Lin Shuishi softened and opened the door. The little black horse flicked its tail and walked in with a dignified stride, then lay down on the ground under the kang.

Seeing this, Lin Shuishi felt that all the animals from Dongshan seemed so proud and noble. The wolf cub was like this, the fat squirrel was like this, and now this young black horse also had an air of superiority!

It made Lin Shuishi feel like a servant, constantly tending to these creatures!

But when Lin Shuishi, lying in bed, thought about these tiny details, he felt a soft gratitude. They had taken good care of him, allowing someone as inexperienced as him to survive well in the harsh mountains.

As he thought about this, his mind increasingly recalled the figure of the person who had always been there, with strong, broad shoulders.

He had mostly seen that person’s back, perhaps because they were always facing away, protecting him.

Or maybe it was because that person would always turn and leave silently.

Lin Shuishi fell asleep amid these troublesome thoughts.

In his dream, he was running alongside a giant white wolf glowing with light. The surrounding mountains and ranges sped away, passing through countless autumns and winters, until they reached a clear hot spring.

In the dream, Lin Shuishi didn’t know where he was or his name. All he knew was the spring before him, and then he jumped in.

After entering the water, he instinctively struggled but remained asleep, his soul drifting through the spring into an ivory white tower. In the tower, tall and strong men and women moved about, sometimes running hand in hand in the forest, sometimes howling at the moon.

As he ascended higher, the people became fewer, until only groups of white wolves guarded the area. Lin Shuishi continued running until he reached the very top!

With no dome to obstruct his view, he saw the sky! A huge moon hung in the night sky, seeming very close to the tower. The shadows on the moon were clearly visible.

Lin Shuishi continued running, but then he saw a tall figure at the edge of the platform. The figure turned and started running towards him!

As the person charged toward him, they gradually transformed, their hands turning into giant claws, their face becoming beastly, and their clothes torn apart as if they were an ancient giant beast!

Lin Shuishi felt an inexplicable fear, with his neck aching from nervousness. Just as he was about to turn and run, he felt an uneasy impulse and looked back.

Behind him, under the giant moon, a pair of golden eyes stared menacingly at him…

xxx

Thandar: what menacingly, that’s your husband being in heat 🤭

Lin Shuishi was brought to the Zheng family home, where he was introduced to many people and received a very warm welcome.

The Zheng family had four sons. The eldest and second sons were already married. Since the family had some surplus and prestige, their wives came from good families and had several children. The fourth son was studying in the county town and could not return immediately.

The eldest son had a young ge’er with him, indicating he had a concubine. Although it’s a rural area with fewer formalities, it was apparent that the young ge’er had little say. During meals, he served in the kitchen and did not join the table with the other elders and guests.

Lin Shuishi noticed this and sighed inwardly. Indeed, within any crowd, there are distinctions of status and wealth.

Mrs. Zheng noticed Lin Shuishi’s gaze and understood the situation. Since Lin Shuishi was still not officially part of the family, she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. She promptly invited the young ge’er, Huan Ge’er, to join the table. Huan Ge’er hesitated but cautiously sat at the edge of the table, taking a corner seat.

Lin Shuishi pretended not to notice and did not look further. It was a family matter, and as an outsider, he didn’t want to intrude.

The meal, though not very lavish, included some rabbit meat and potatoes in large quantities, enough to satisfy everyone. However, Lin Shuishi found the taste mediocre due to the lack of spices.

He thought about how, in the harsh winter, many in Yuan Mountain Village had died from hunger and cold. The situation in Rehe was quite good in comparison. Who would care too much about the taste when there was enough food to eat?

One thing Lin Shuishi particularly enjoyed was the warm kang bed in the farmhouse. It was only covered with a few layers of straw mats and had a faint dusty smell.

He suddenly remembered the warm wolf den on the mountain ridge, which was both refreshing and uniformly temperature-controlled, with a comforting scent…

While Lin Shuishi was lost in thought, someone called out to him from outside. His fingers twitched slightly, and Dongsheng shouted, “Shui Ge’er! Your horse is back! It won’t let me lead it. Come and see, don’t let it get away!”

It turned out that the little horse had followed Lin Shuishi to the Zheng family home. Zheng Dage, who greeted them, was very impressed with the horse’s appearance and immediately went to harness it himself.

But how could this wild little guy behave himself? It suddenly kicked up its heels and ran away, and no one could keep up with its speed. Lin Shuishi told everyone not to worry; it would come back soon. Dongsheng, however, was worried about losing the horse and stayed outside, watching.

Upon hearing this, Lin Shuishi quickly responded and wrapped himself tightly in his fur coat before heading outside. Mrs. Zheng immediately reminded him, “Shui Ge’er, be careful and don’t get cold!” Lin Shuishi waved his hand repeatedly, saying, “It’s alright, don’t worry. Auntie, I’m fine.” He had even slept in snowy dens on mountain slopes in winter, so he was quite resilient now.

He lifted the curtain and pushed open the wooden door, seeing the little horse and Dongsheng standing quite far apart, stubbornly refusing to move. Lin Shuishi hurried over to the little horse, gently guiding its small face and leading it into the wind-protected stable.

“Stay here for a while and don’t run around.” Down in the valley, people might steal horses.

The little horse shook its neck and settled down, drinking some water Dongsheng had just poured. Lin Shuishi removed the basket from the horse’s back, asked Dongsheng to move it inside, and then spent some time outside with the little horse, tightening its loose mane. After tidying up, the little horse shook its mane and posed, showing off its appearance.

As a hunter, the Zheng family had two horses in the stable. Lin Shuishi noticed that these two yellow horses had short, thick legs, were short and thin, and had dry fur. Despite being adult horses, they were even shorter than the little black horse!

Looking at the sleek, well-proportioned little horse in front of him, Lin Shuishi reflected on how the differences between horses were even more pronounced than those between people. No wonder Zheng Dage was so excited.

At this moment, Lin Shuishi frowned, tightening the little horse’s reins. Good horses were easily lost, and since this little guy was meeting people for the first time, there was a risk it could be sold or slaughtered. It would be painful for him, and he’d have to explain to the Horse King later!

The horse, tired from carrying things down the mountain, saw that Lin Shuishi seemed to be settling in this “smoky dirt mound” and relaxed, lying down to rest.

Seeing the horse settled, Lin Shuishi went back inside.

After eating and drinking, the older brothers in the house, seeing Lin Shuishi comfortably resting on the warm kang, felt at ease and prepared to take their leave.

Lin Shuishi was grateful to them, and after thinking it over, he followed them downstairs, choosing some high-quality furs from the basket to give them as a token of his appreciation.

With the snow sealing off the mountains, the hunters’ winters were harsh, but still better than for ordinary farmers. They could always catch some rabbits or martens with traps, and selling the furs in town brought in some income. Seeing Lin Shuishi offer such fine fox and leopard skins, they were very moved and declined the gifts, feeling comforted and thinking that Lin Shuishi resembled the old Lin Dage of the past.

“Little one, keep the good things for yourself. We can’t take more from you. We should be giving you things instead.”

Lin Shuishi quickly shook his head, though he struggled to express himself. “No, I have more. Just these few for you, as a token of my gratitude.”

The men, touched, patted Lin Shuishi on the head and said softly, “We’re hunters too, and we have our own ways of getting fur. You keep these for yourself, sell them in town for some money, and take care of yourself. It’ll save us from worrying about you!”

Though they could catch small game, they dared not venture into the East Mountain, so they had never obtained such fine furs before. They pretended not to know the value of the fur.

Seeing that they were determined to refuse his gifts, Lin Shuishi had no choice but to keep the furs with him. He then stuffed their bags with various dried fruits, which they finally accepted, and reminded Old Man Zheng and Dongsheng to take good care of him.

“Don’t worry, Shui Ge’er will be part of our family from now on. How could we not treat him well?” Old Man Zheng said, urging Dongsheng to confirm.

“San’er, say something!” He nudged Dongsheng, who just smiled foolishly, blushing and scratching his head.

Lin Shuishi, being in his twenties and having been influenced by modern civilization, was much more perceptive than the original owner. He quickly realized something was amiss. After seeing off the guests, he made a decision—he couldn’t stay at the Zheng family’s house for long.

That night, Lin Shuishi lay in the room prepared for Old Man Zheng’s fourth son, covered with the fur he had brought. The Zheng family, concerned that he might be cold during the night, had piled extra firewood on the kang, making it too hot for someone unaccustomed to such warmth. Lin Shuishi, not used to the hot kang, tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Feeling his throat dry and uncomfortable from the heat, he had no choice but to sit up, draping himself in a large white snow fox fur, and leaned against the window, quietly watching the moonlight.

The full moon was missing a piece. Lin Shuishi wondered if he was looking at the same moon as someone else at this moment.

Under the moon in the Dongshan Mountain, a pack of wolves howled. The wolf king, now in good condition, led the pack on a hunt. They returned, their load full of fresh sheep and deer, which they dragged up the hillside. The wolves waited a long time but saw that Fuli didn’t come to eat, so they looked at the wolf king.

The wolf king licked the blood off his lips, his blue eyes scanning the surroundings. He then leaped and raced to the top of a ridge, where it seemed closer to the moon.

Fuli lay on the ground, with a listless little white wolf curled up beside him. The small wolf, seeing its father, remained still, relying on Fuli and trying to act important.

The wolf king stood beside Fuli for a while, but seeing that his elder brother ignored him, he sneezed and stepped back. He was frustrated, not only with Fuli but also with the unmoving cub.

So, the little white wolf didn’t even have the luxury of feeling melancholy. The wolf king grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and, stiff as a board, carried it to the deer meat under the ridge. The wolf king bit open the deer’s belly, pressed the little wolf’s head down, and dunked it into the deer’s liver, covering its face in blood.

The wolf king observed the increasingly picky cub, while the cub struggled and kicked with its fluffy hind legs, longing for the “two legs” that usually fed it so gently.

Meanwhile, Fuli was left alone at the top, basking in the gentle breeze, bathed in the moonlight.

xxx

The next morning, having slept half the night in the cold and the other half on the hot kang, Lin Shuishi indeed developed a fever, with a swollen throat and a nosebleed. The eldest daughter-in-law quickly grabbed a towel and came to help Lin Shuishi clean up the blood.

Seeing the delicate, refined Lin Shuishi, she wiped his nose continuously, feeling quite sentimental. Although Lin Shuishi looked like a delicate young man with his fair face, neither she nor her sister-in-law, nor even Huan Ge’er, could match his daintiness!

The eldest daughter-in-law, observing the way her father-in-law and mother-in-law acted, realized that this young ge’er would be the sole focus of attention in the family from now on. However, the pregnancy mole was faint, and San’er and his family would still need to rely on them in the future, so she wasn’t envious. Instead, she found Lin Shuishi easy to get along with and kind.

Lin Shuishi, after wiping his nose, thanked her in a muffled voice, “Thank you, eldest sister-in-law.”

The eldest daughter-in-law, being straightforward, waved it off and, seeing that Lin Shuishi was fine, invited him to the main hall for breakfast. Lin Shuishi had a simple meal with the Zheng family, helped clean the dishes, and then went out to feed the little black horse.

Upon stepping outside, he saw the horse occupying the feed trough and selectively eating the bean cake, intimidating the two yellow horses away. Lin Shuishi went up and patted its soft ears, “This is someone else’s house; you’re being quite the bully!”

Behind him, Old Man Zheng hobbled over, carrying a bag of bean cake and pouring it in front of the little black horse, picking out the horse’s favorite bits. “Shui Ge’er, I heard from the eldest daughter-in-law that you didn’t sleep well last night and caught a cold.”

Lin Shuishi shook his head, “It’s nothing, Uncle Zheng. I’ll be fine in a bit.” After exchanging a few more pleasantries, with Zheng Laohan showing concern for Lin Shuishi’s well-being, Lin Shuishi, who had already made up his mind, finally asked, “Uncle, is the house we used to live in still around? I’d like to go see it, pay respects to my parents, and reflect on the past.”

Hearing Qin Zhao’s question, Jing Li froze for a moment, then turned his gaze away.

…He’d slipped up.

Jing Li stayed silent, but seeing his reaction, Qin Zhao seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He pulled Jing Li into his arms, lying down together as he said slowly, “I should have realized sooner… I used to think you just didn’t want me to go to the capital because you were afraid it would be too taxing. But in truth, you were worried about my safety, weren’t you?”

Jing Li still didn’t respond.

He lowered his head, fingers lightly gripping the edge of the blanket. He didn’t nod, but he didn’t deny it either.

“When did you figure it out?” Qin Zhao asked.

“…A long time ago.”

“How long?”

“…I don’t remember,” Jing Li whispered, lips pressed tightly together.

It wasn’t that he was deliberately evasive—it was just that, if Qin Zhao wanted an exact timeline, even Jing Li himself couldn’t pinpoint it.

Because it truly had been a long time.

The first hints of suspicion had likely arisen after Qin Zhao achieved the prestigious “Triple Top Scholar” title.

Living under the same roof, it was impossible to hide everything. After that accomplishment, Qin Zhao often spent long afternoons or evenings alone in the study. It was around that time that Jing Li began to notice the ashes of burned papers in the brazier there.

He had a hunch that Qin Zhao was hiding something from him, but he didn’t ask.

Jing Li never believed that love required unconditional honesty. He respected Qin Zhao’s choices and pretended not to notice, refraining from asking questions. But some things couldn’t simply be ignored, no matter how much he tried to feign ignorance.

The peculiarities only grew more frequent.

There was Xiao Yue, who came to stay with them temporarily; the increasingly deferential attitude of the Gu family toward them; and, more subtly, the slight changes in Qin Zhao’s demeanor and decision-making.

Jing Li remembered every detail of their life together with clarity: the origins of that strange poison Qin Zhao carried, the poem he recited at the Mid-Autumn poetry gathering, and his reaction upon learning Jing Li’s true heritage at Yun Guan Temple… All these scattered moments, though insignificant on their own, came together to form a single undeniable answer.

An answer Jing Li was reluctant to face.

Qin Zhao lowered his eyes, quietly watching the youth curled up in his arms. Jing Li lay beside him, his body slightly hunched, as if trying to hide himself. He always did this—retreating inward when faced with things he didn’t want to confront—yet he forgot to mask the anxiety and unease written all over his face.

Qin Zhao leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Jing Li’s trembling eyelashes.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he said softly.

After so many years together, Jing Li didn’t need to explain much. Qin Zhao could read everything from his reactions.

Qin Zhao had never thought the return of his memories had significantly impacted him. He continued treating Jing Li the same way he always had—with care, attentiveness, and an effort to shield him from the hardships of the world.

He thought this approach would make Jing Li’s life easier, safer.

But in truth, it had backfired.

The arrogance and pride that came with the return of his memories had subtly placed Jing Li and himself on unequal footing. He had assumed, condescendingly, that Jing Li should be sheltered by him, leading a carefree and simple life.

But he had forgotten—true partners were meant to stand together, shoulder to shoulder, through everything.

In recent days, Qin Zhao had tried to shoulder everything alone, keeping his burdens hidden from Jing Li. But his attempts at secrecy had been poorly executed. Jing Li had noticed, had figured it out, and, out of respect, kept his worries to himself, silently fearing and fretting for Qin Zhao.

For Qin Zhao, wasn’t this also a kind of pain?

For the first time, Qin Zhao felt regret for his actions.

“I’m sorry.” It was the second thing Qin Zhao said. “You’re right, Xiao Yu. I was being presumptuous.”

Jing Li’s eyes trembled slightly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jing Li said hastily, grabbing Qin Zhao’s hand, a little panicked. “I didn’t mean it like that. Whatever decisions you make, I’ll always support you. I just… I just want you to take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you hurt yourself…”

“You don’t need to explain so much to me.” Qin Zhao pulled him into his arms, resting his chin against Jing Li’s head and rubbing it gently. “I know you’re worried about me. I understand.”

“There are some things I should’ve told you from the start.”

“Let me tell you a story.”

“Many years ago, during the reign of the late emperor, a prince of a collateral royal line was granted the title of king. His family had been loyal for three generations, his forebears all diligent ministers with distinguished achievements. Born into a noble household, he was well-versed in literature from a young age and greatly admired by the late emperor, to the extent that they formed a deep, mentor-like bond.”

“Later, the emperor became addicted to medication and fell gravely ill. During his illness, the empress’s faction seized the opportunity to consolidate power, even plotting treason. Chaos reigned within the court and beyond, and even the prince’s family was implicated. His father and relatives were imprisoned. Desperate, he pleaded with the emperor for mercy, but the emperor said, ‘Others can save you for a moment, but they cannot save you for a lifetime.’”

Jing Li looked up, blinking in surprise.

Why did that sound like shirking responsibility?

Was that really something an emperor should say?

“You think it’s problematic too, right? But he had no choice back then,” Qin Zhao sighed. “In hindsight, the late emperor must have foreseen what would happen. As far as imperial strategy goes, his level of mastery was unmatched—neither the later regent nor the current emperor could compare.”

“After that day, the late emperor issued a decree, naming his only son, a twelve-year-old boy, the crown prince and entrusting him to the care and tutelage of the Prince Rong.”

Jing Li understood immediately. “He was creating a balance of power?”

“Exactly,” Qin Zhao said. “With the empress’s faction growing stronger, the emperor’s only solution was to cultivate a force capable of countering it.”

And the Prince Rong was the perfect candidate.

Not only because of his extraordinary talent but also because he had no other choice. If he didn’t overthrow the empress’s faction, he couldn’t save his own family.

Moreover, the offer the emperor made was incredibly enticing.

The young Prince Rong had been proud and ambitious. To him, the emperor’s offer was a chance to save the nation and its people while proving his worth. No one could resist the allure of such power and recognition.

“But the emperor miscalculated one thing,” Qin Zhao said softly.

Jing Li asked, “What?”

“He didn’t live to see his plan succeed.”

Prince Rong did not disappoint expectations. He quickly built a power base capable of rivaling the Empress’s faction. However, the late emperor’s illness was far too severe, and not long after issuing the decree, he passed away.

With the late emperor’s death, the young crown prince smoothly ascended the throne. As his teacher, Prince Rong was tasked with overseeing the court, becoming the regent with unparalleled authority. The Empress, now the Empress Dowager, and her faction fell into complete decline, never able to challenge the regent again.

Qin Zhao’s tone was calm as he recounted the story. Jing Li listened quietly, and when he finished, he asked softly, “What about his family? Were they saved?”

Qin Zhao closed his eyes briefly. “No.”

“Many lives were lost in that power struggle, and many events were beyond anyone’s control. Nearly a hundred members of Prince Rong’s family perished. In the end… only he survived.”

Jing Li’s eyes reddened instantly.

He buried his head in Qin Zhao’s embrace, clutching tightly at the blanket, as though trying to suppress an overwhelming and suffocating emotion.

“There’s no need to grieve,” Qin Zhao said gently, stroking his hair. “He has a new family now, and people he wishes to protect. There’s no reason to dwell on sadness. Perhaps it’s precisely because he’s so afraid of loss that he doesn’t want those he cares about to be caught in the chaos.”

“He wanted so desperately to protect the people he loves that he neglected their feelings, causing them to worry and feel hurt.”

“He knows he was wrong now, Xiao Yu. Forgive him this once, will you?”

In the end, Jing Li couldn’t get any sleep that day. Qin Zhao had far too much to tell him—stories of his past, the plans he’d been making recently. They talked for the entire afternoon.

It wasn’t until a little fish fry came scratching at the door with soft cries that the two snapped back to the present.

When the door opened, they found Ah Qi standing awkwardly in the doorway, his face full of apology.

The little fish fry had woken precisely two hours after his nap and stubbornly insisted on finding his daddy. No amount of coaxing could dissuade him. Having upset Jing Li the day before, Ah Qi didn’t dare risk upsetting the young master now, so he had no choice but to bring him back.

“You may go,” Qin Zhao said, waving a hand helplessly.

Ah Qi, likely never having felt this aggrieved in his life as a shadow guard, quickly retreated.

Meanwhile, the little fish fry stretched out his arms toward Jing Li, demanding a hug.

Jing Li picked up the child and brought him into the room, unbothered by the additional “third wheel.” “Where were we? Why did you meet with Deng Tianyou? Weren’t you afraid he’d betray you?”

“He’s the top scholar I personally selected, someone I cultivated. I understand him well,” Qin Zhao explained. “Besides, he holds some power in the capital. Once we arrive, he’ll be useful.”

Jing Li gave him a skeptical look, clearly hesitant to fully trust this reasoning. Qin Zhao coughed lightly and added, “Last night, I had my old subordinates set up an ambush near here and outside his residence. Even now, those men haven’t withdrawn. If he shows any signs of disloyalty, he won’t live to return to the capital.”

Jing Li let out a soft “Oh.”

That was more reassuring.

Meeting with Deng Tianyou was a risky move, and if Qin Zhao had truly gone in unprepared, Jing Li would have been far more concerned.

Qin Zhao glanced at Jing Li and tentatively asked, “Don’t you think my methods are too ruthless?”

Avoiding his gaze, Jing Li focused on untangling his hair from the little fish fry’s grasp. “It’s necessary, isn’t it? If you don’t take precautions, you’d be putting yourself in danger. I understand…”

“You don’t have to force yourself,” Qin Zhao said with a gentle smile, raising a hand to caress Jing Li’s face. “Anything that makes you uncomfortable—don’t look, don’t listen, don’t involve yourself. Leave it all to me.”

Qin Zhao didn’t want Jing Li to change for him. On the contrary, he loved Jing Li just as he was. His words weren’t meant to seek Jing Li’s understanding or approval, but simply to ease his worries.

“I’ll adapt. Just give me some time,” Jing Li replied earnestly.

“Alright,” Qin Zhao said. “I just want you to know, it’s okay if you never adapt. Staying as you are now—trusting what people say and being fooled by a single pastry—is just as endearing.”

“…That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” Jing Li muttered softly.

Qin Zhao chuckled.

“Look who’s talking,” Jing Li said indignantly. “You were the same, trusting that dog of an emperor. Do you still refuse to believe he’s the one who sent people after you?”

Qin Zhao’s smile faded slightly.

“I don’t know,” he said, turning his gaze toward the window, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes I wonder if being born into an imperial family means you’re destined to be more scheming and harder to see through than others.”

The room fell quiet, the atmosphere growing heavier. Only the little fish fry remained oblivious, giggling in Jing Li’s arms. When Jing Li stopped him from pulling his hair, the child turned to tugging at his clothes, nearly tumbling out of his lap in the process.

“Don’t move around so much; we’re talking about important matters,” Jing Li scolded as he caught him.

Qin Zhao didn’t seem bothered and reached out his arms. “Come here. Let me hold him for a bit; you must be tired.”

“Umm…” The little fish fry blinked, then turned to Jing Li first for approval.

Qin Zhao sighed helplessly. “This little one has been ignoring me all day since waking up. I think he knows I upset you.”

“Is that so?” Jing Li looked down at the child and asked, “Are you ignoring your dad today?”

The little fish fry nodded seriously.

Jing Li: “…”

“Why?” Jing Li asked.

The child replied, “Bullied Little Dad.”

Jing Li exchanged a glance with Qin Zhao, both amused and exasperated. “Your dad didn’t bully me. Why do you think that?”

“Did too!” the child said with a pout, hiding in Jing Li’s arms. “He made Little Dad sleep in the water.”

The little one puffed up his cheeks and declared indignantly, “No bullying Little Dad!”

Qin Zhao was about to give chase when a voice called out from behind him: “The magistrate has already left.”

“Alright.” Qin Zhao halted his steps and replied casually, as if nothing had happened.

Ah Qi spoke again: “Can Deng Tianyou really be trusted to stand on our side? Should we send someone to keep monitoring his residence?”

“Let Gu Changzhou handle it,” Qin Zhao instructed. “After all, it’s been years since I last saw him. A measure of caution is always necessary.”

“Yes, understood. Then—”

“Ah Qi,” Qin Zhao interrupted, his patience wearing thin.

“You’ve been with me for so many years. You should know what to do without constantly seeking my input. Besides…”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to keep his tone calm. “I have more urgent matters to attend to right now.”

Ah Qi blinked in confusion.

Standing behind Qin Zhao, he had been so focused on reporting his news that he failed to notice his master’s subtle shift in mood. Following Qin Zhao’s words, Ah Qi glanced down and noticed faint water trails by the drainage channel, leading toward the backyard.

Ah Qi froze.

He seemed to realize something… extraordinary.

Fearing he might get caught up in it, he hurriedly bowed and excused himself. “This subordinate takes his leave.”

A light breeze swept past, and by the time Qin Zhao turned around, Ah Qi was already gone.

… He’s running faster these days.

Qin Zhao sighed silently and slowly made his way to the backyard.

Jing Li had already returned to the bedroom. Quietly shifting back into his human form, he changed clothes and looked up, only to meet a pair of round, curious eyes staring at him from the bed.

He walked over. “Why are you awake?”

“I… I miss Daddy,” the little fry murmured softly, hiding half his face under the blanket.

The little one knew his daddy was still recovering, and he had been worried all day.

Jing Li huffed in mild exasperation. “What’s there to miss? He’s busy and has no time for us.”

The little fry blinked, looking a bit puzzled.

Wasn’t Little Dad’s attitude just now a little… different?

Rolling himself into a ball, the little fry wriggled into Jing Li’s arms like a small animal, nuzzling him. “Little Dad… don’t be mad.”

No matter how upset Jing Li might be, he couldn’t bring himself to scold his son. He bent down and patted the little fry’s back gently. “Little Dad’s not mad. Go to sleep.”

It was well past bedtime for the little one. Earlier, he had stayed awake out of worry for Qin Zhao and because Jing Li wasn’t by his side when he woke up.

Now, lulled by Jing Li’s comforting words, he quickly grew drowsy.

Not long after, the door creaked softly. The little fish stirred, murmuring, “Daddy…”

The little one was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open, but he was still anxiously waiting to see if his daddy had come back. Jing Li paused briefly, not turning around, and gently reassured him, “Yes, Daddy’s back.”

“Tell me a story…”

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” A faint scent of medicinal herbs wafted from behind as Qin Zhao leaned down, wrapping an arm around Jing Li and gently patting the little fish’s head. “Sleep now.”

Satisfied with Qin Zhao’s promise, the little fish curled up snugly in Jing Li’s arms and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Confirming that the little one in his arms was sound asleep, Jing Li gently placed the child back on the bed, tucking in the blanket. After finishing this, he carefully slipped out of Qin Zhao’s embrace and got up to leave the room.

He had barely stepped out when Qin Zhao pulled him back into a hug.

“Xiao Yu?” Qin Zhao lowered his voice, asking softly, “Why are you ignoring me?”

Jing Li didn’t turn around and mumbled, “You should lie down and rest. You’ve been exhausting yourself all evening—what if you fall ill again?”

“Just tell me why you’re angry.”

“…”

Jing Li was silent for a moment before replying, “You knew Deng Tianyou from before. He didn’t come here on his own; you deliberately lured him here, didn’t you?”

He had overheard Qin Zhao saying so earlier.

Qin Zhao, not realizing this was the source of Jing Li’s displeasure, admitted, “That’s true, but I had my reasons for doing so.”

“And was making yourself sick also part of those reasons?”

Jing Li’s voice grew louder, almost waking the child sleeping inside.

Taking a deep breath, Jing Li struggled with his frustration. “Qin Zhao, do you think I’m so easy to fool? You were perfectly fine yesterday, but as soon as the invitation to the Banquet arrived, you suddenly fell ill. I already thought it was suspicious but didn’t dare to overthink it. Then tonight, the magistrate came looking for you…”

Qin Zhao and Deng Tianyou knew each other, and Qin Zhao likely feigned illness to avoid being recognized at the banquet.

The logic wasn’t hard to piece together.

Jing Li could barely keep his voice steady. His words trembled with anger, “I worried about you all day, and this is how you treat your body?”

So that’s why he’s upset.

Qin Zhao sighed inwardly.

Seeing how his little spouse was genuinely distressed because of him, Qin Zhao had resolved to come clean about everything. Yet before he could even explain, Jing Li had already figured out the truth.

This wasn’t going to be an easy situation to mend.

Qin Zhao spoke softly, “Calm down, Xiao Yu. There’s more to this than you realize. Let me explain everything to you.”

“No need,” Jing Li cut him off. “You’re still unwell tonight. I don’t want to discuss this right now. Just rest.”

“Then you…”

Before Qin Zhao could finish, Jing Li broke free from his embrace and returned to the inner room.

Moments later, he came out holding the fish tank, which he placed firmly on the table in the outer room.

“Until I cool off, I’m not sleeping in there.” Jing Li huffed, puffing up with indignation. “We’re sleeping in separate rooms.”

Qin Zhao: “…”

Qin Zhao wanted to coax him further, but Jing Li gave him no chance. A flash of red light illuminated the room as the little koi leapt back into the fish tank with a splash. It swam through the dense aquatic plants, burying itself among the foliage and leaving behind nothing but a trail of bubbles.

The decision to sleep in separate rooms was firm and unyielding.

Qin Zhao stood in place for a long moment before sighing helplessly and turning back to the inner room.

Having been together for so long, Qin Zhao rarely saw Jing Li so resolute. If he insisted on pursuing the matter, it would likely backfire.

Besides, the root of this issue was his own illness—he couldn’t afford to worsen his condition further.

The priority now was to recover.

Returning to the bed, Qin Zhao found their little one sleeping soundly and peacefully, completely unaware of the household tension. He glanced back toward the outer room and sighed again, lying down next to his son.

Jing Li, however, barely slept that night. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that he finally dozed off, exhausted.

Some time later, Jing Li felt something nudging him.

Still in a haze between sleep and wakefulness, he lazily flicked his fin in irritation. Instead of water, it brushed against something smooth and small.

The little creature, spun around by his flick, soon swam back and began nudging insistently at his belly.

“Stop fussing…” Jing Li realized what it was and used his fin to scoop up the restless little one, pinning it down firmly.

The little fry, unable to move under the pressure, didn’t seem upset. It spoke in its soft, sticky voice, “Little Dad, wake up.”

“How did you get here?” Jing Li, who had slept lightly all night, quickly came to full awareness.

The little fish replied, “Came to play with Little Dad.”

Though the tiny one could only form simple sentences, it communicated clearly.

Jing Li released it and floated up from the aquatic plants, surfacing just in time to see Qin Zhao entering the room with breakfast in hand.

Seeing Jing Li finally emerge, Qin Zhao immediately called out, “Awake?”

Jing Li blew a bubble, picked up the little fry, and transformed into a red glow, leaping out of the fish tank and into the bedroom. When they reappeared, both father and son were fully dressed.

Qin Zhao served Jing Li a bowl of congee and nudged it toward him. Turning to the little one, he said, “Let me feed you so Little Dad can eat in peace.”

The little fry glanced at Qin Zhao, then at Jing Li. After a moment of deliberation, it shook its head. “No.”

“Be good.”

All three adults in the house had taken turns feeding the little fry, and the greedy child had never shown any preference—until now. Today, it clung tightly to Jing Li’s clothes, refusing to let go, even burying its head into Jing Li’s embrace.

“You’re pushing too hard,” Jing Li said, his tone cold and detached. “It probably just woke up and didn’t see me, so it’s feeling clingy.”

His voice was neither warm nor harsh, and he didn’t even spare Qin Zhao a glance.

…He was still angry.

Qin Zhao was helpless but didn’t push further. He had planned to find an opportunity to coax his spouse in private, but the little fish fry seemed determined to thwart him today. The entire morning, the child clung to Jing Li and refused to be carried away even when Qin Zhao asked Ah Qi to take him out.

That brat—just here to cause trouble.

Qin Zhao could only watch from afar as father and son played in the courtyard, sighing quietly to himself.

It wasn’t until after lunch that the little fish fry finally grew tired and agreed to let Uncle Ah Qi take him for a nap. Jing Li was about to follow them when Qin Zhao stopped him.

“Xiao Yu,” Qin Zhao softened his tone, “I’m all better now.”

For once, his body cooperated. After a good night’s sleep, he had fully recovered. Seizing the chance, Qin Zhao wasted no time in seeking praise from Jing Li.

Jing Li responded with a muffled “Oh,” clearly reluctant to engage with him.

Qin Zhao tried again, “You don’t need to worry about the little one for now. You didn’t sleep well last night, right? Let me lie down with you for a bit?”

Without waiting for Jing Li’s agreement, he half-embraced, half-carried him to the bed.

“I’m still mad,” Jing Li protested.

“I know,” Qin Zhao replied gently. “You can sleep first. Afterward, you can keep being mad at me, okay?”

Jing Li: “…”

Having barely slept the night before and spent the morning playing with their son, Jing Li was indeed tired. Perhaps it was due to this exhaustion that he forgot his own rule about sleeping in separate rooms until he’d cooled off. He obediently took off his shoes, climbed into bed, and lay down with his back to Qin Zhao.

The mattress dipped behind him as Qin Zhao lay down and wrapped an arm around him.

But Qin Zhao didn’t say anything.

The afternoon sunlight filtered in, warm and soothing, casting a lazy atmosphere over the room. Jing Li pursed his lips but didn’t have the heart to push him away, eventually letting him stay.

Qin Zhao remained silent until Jing Li was nearly asleep. Only then did he whisper softly in Jing Li’s ear, “I was wrong.”

“…I shouldn’t have made you worry like that. I won’t do it again. Forgive me this time, will you?”

“You don’t get it.” Jing Li’s face was buried in the blanket, his voice muffled. “That’s not what I’m angry about.”

“What is it, then?”

“I don’t understand. If you just wanted to fake an illness to avoid the banquet, why did you have to hide it from me too?” Jing Li grew angrier as he spoke, sitting up abruptly. “If you’d told me in advance, couldn’t I have helped you fool the prefect? If neither of us nor Ah Qi said anything, who could possibly see through your act?”

“Why did you feel the need to lie to me too?”

Qin Zhao could have simply been honest with Jing Li, and together they could have staged an illness to avoid attending the Deer Call Banquet. But Qin Zhao hadn’t even considered that option.

He never thought to involve Jing Li.

In fact, part of the reason for his performance was to keep it a secret from Jing Li.

Jing Li’s voice trembled slightly as he continued, “I know you must have your reasons, and I can understand that. But you can’t treat your body this way. If something happened to you, what would I do? What would our son do?”

Qin Zhao silently watched Jing Li.

After a long pause, he asked softly, “Xiao Yu… have you already guessed my true identity?”

Qin Zhao’s study was furnished simply.

The desk was divided into two sections: one part held books for the imperial examinations, while the other housed brightly colored storybooks. The two types of books placed together created a somewhat jarring contrast, yet the owner of the room had organized everything neatly, so it didn’t feel chaotic.

Behind the desk stood a modest bookshelf, slightly shabby in appearance. It was neatly stocked with some Confucian classics and medical texts, most of which were handwritten copies that looked somewhat worn.

“Master Deng, please have a seat.” Ah Qi poured him a cup of tea and placed it beside the chair.

Deng Tianyou withdrew his gaze and sat down as invited, casually asking, “How did you know my identity?”

Ah Qi’s movements paused.

When Deng Tianyou arrived, he had only introduced himself as “Deng,” without revealing his full identity. Ah Qi’s form of address had inadvertently given something away.

However, having followed Qin Zhao for many years, Ah Qi remained composed even in the face of unexpected situations. He replied calmly, “After the first round of the provincial examination, I went to the tribute academy’s gate to meet my master. I happened to see you there, sir.”

Deng Tianyou wasn’t surprised by the response and simply nodded. “I see.”

“I heard that the provincial exam’s top scorer has been bedridden. I was quite concerned and came to visit, hoping I haven’t disturbed you.”

Ah Qi replied, “We dare not say you have.”

“Even though he’s unwell, the top scorer still sent me a poem, which I deeply appreciate.” Deng Tianyou took out a slip of paper from his sleeve and placed it on the small table nearby. He asked, “This poem—you delivered it to the government office, didn’t you?”

Ah Qi responded, “Yes.”

“…Did he write it?”

Ah Qi fell silent.

Deng Tianyou lowered his gaze to the slip of paper on the table and said slowly, “Eleven years ago, when His Majesty ascended the throne and the era was named Yanguang, the emperor, being young, appointed a regent from a collateral branch of the royal family. In the third year of Yanguang, the regent selected the first batch of scholars for the imperial court. During the banquet celebrating their success, the top scholar composed a poem to honor the regent and express his gratitude for recognizing his talent.”

He tapped the paper on the table. “This is that poem.”

Ah Qi kept his head lowered and remained silent.

Deng Tianyou’s expression darkened as he coldly questioned, “Who exactly is Qin Zhao?”

This poem had been written by Deng Tianyou himself eight years ago. Although it wasn’t a secret, it had faded from memory over time since it wasn’t particularly remarkable. However, Deng Tianyou would never forget it.

Plagiarizing someone else’s poem at an imperial banquet was a grave offense, especially when it was Deng Tianyou’s work. He couldn’t believe that someone deemed the top scorer of the provincial exam—a figure praised unanimously by the Hanlin Academy—would make such an error.

There was only one explanation.

It was intentional.

“You could’ve just asked me directly. Why trouble my people?”

A voice came from outside the door, leaving Deng Tianyou momentarily stunned.

Qin Zhao stepped into the room.

The late autumn night was slightly chilly, and the man had wrapped himself in a windproof robe, making his thin frame appear even frailer. The flickering candlelight illuminated half of his handsome face. Seeing that face clearly, Deng Tianyou felt his blood rush to his head, a roaring sound filling his ears. He slumped back into his chair, unable to speak for a long time.

Qin Zhao raised his hand, signaling Ah Qi to leave.

When Ah Qi exited, he closed the study door behind him. Qin Zhao walked to the desk, sat down, and asked softly, “What brings Master Deng here at such a late hour?”

He indeed looked like someone who had not yet recovered from a serious illness. His face was still pale, and he was much thinner than before—so much so that he was almost unrecognizable.

Deng Tianyou stared at him, dumbfounded. “You… how are you…”

“Still alive?” Qin Zhao chuckled. “Why is it that everyone who sees me asks the same question? Are you all so eager for my death?”

“Of course not!”

Deng Tianyou abruptly stood up, only to lower his head when he realized his lapse in composure.

His feelings toward this man were deeply conflicted.

This was the man who had once selected him as the top scholar and brought him into his fold, teaching him with great care. On a personal level, Prince Rong was the mentor who had discovered his talent, a benefactor who had imparted everything he knew.

Yet, on an official level, Deng Tianyou had witnessed Prince Rong’s ruthless actions, including his indiscriminate killings, culminating in his execution by imperial decree for attempted treason. As a loyal subject, Deng Tianyou knew he should have severed all ties with such a traitor.

In truth, even before Prince Rong’s downfall, Deng Tianyou had distanced himself due to their diverging political ideals.

It was this estrangement that allowed him to remain in the emperor’s favor even after Prince Rong’s death.

But why? Why had this man not died?

Why was he here now?

“Strange. Didn’t you consider this possibility before coming here?” Qin Zhao asked with a faint smile, noting Deng Tianyou’s visible agitation.

Deng Tianyou didn’t answer.

His gaze fell back on the poem lying on the table. In a hoarse voice, he asked, “Why did you send me this poem?”

“You feigned illness and skipped the banquet today. By avoiding it, you could ensure that no one would recognize you—at least not until you entered the capital. Yet, you chose to use this poem.” Deng Tianyou paused, then continued, “You could’ve avoided meeting me, but instead, you deliberately used this poem to draw me here.”

“Why?” he asked coldly. “Why did you summon me?”

“Because I wanted to see you,” Qin Zhao replied candidly. “You’ve been serving in the capital for years, while I’ve been away for a long time. You’re a useful person to me, and I need you. It’s that simple.”

“You’re returning to the capital?”

Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow, countering, “Did you think I was taking the imperial examinations just for fun?”

“Deng Tianyou, I thought you knew me well enough by now,” Qin Zhao said. “I never do anything meaningless.”

Deng Tianyou’s face turned ashen as he looked away. “But I don’t know if the person I knew was the real you.”

He had been selected as the top scholar at the age of seventeen, the youngest in the dynasty’s history. Prince Rong had held him in high regard back then, and he had once seen the prince as his goal and inspiration. But as the prince’s time in power grew longer, their political differences deepened, and they eventually fell apart.

Looking back now, Deng Tianyou realized he had no idea whether the person he thought he knew was the real Qin Zhao.

“Don’t rush. We have time. We can talk over a cup of tea,” Qin Zhao said, his tone as calm as ever.

“No need. Let’s get straight to the point,” Deng Tianyou replied without wasting time. “Why did you call me here?”

On the desk, a cup of freshly brewed tea sat waiting. Qin Zhao took a sip but brought up another topic instead. “Do you still remember how this poem came about?”

“At the banquet celebrating your top rank in the imperial examination, I learned of your humble origins. I asked why you sought to gain official status—was it to improve your circumstances? You said no.”

“You said your goal was peace for the nation and well-being for the people.”

“You feared I’d think you were boasting, so you composed a poem on the spot to prove your resolve. You said that if one day you went against the principles expressed in that poem, I should take your life without hesitation. Do you remember how I responded?”

Deng Tianyou closed his eyes, recalling the words spoken to him all those years ago.

“You have courage and integrity. You’re truly the talent I value!”

The man, dressed in resplendent robes, should have been lofty and untouchable. Yet, standing before a much younger Deng Tianyou, he carried no airs of superiority.

After hearing the poem, he even descended from his seat of honor to personally hand Deng Tianyou a cup of wine. “I will always remember what you said today, and I will remember your poem. Tianyou, don’t let me down.”

Even now, recalling that moment, Deng Tianyou felt his blood surge with passion. The appreciation in the man’s eyes had been genuine. Deng Tianyou wanted to believe that, at least at that time, their aspirations had aligned.

But what about later?

Blinded by wealth and power, he began slaughtering the innocent, eliminating dissent, and gradually drifting further and further from the ideals Deng Tianyou had once admired.

Deng Tianyou asked, “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I thought this poem was enough to prove everything,” Qin Zhao replied calmly. “Whether you believe it or not, I have never forgotten the words I said back then.”

This was why, despite knowing Qin Zhao had deliberately lured him into a trap, Deng Tianyou still chose to come alone.

If Qin Zhao truly intended to rebel, he wouldn’t openly participate in the imperial examinations. Nor would he, when he could have avoided Deng Tianyou altogether, deliberately use a poem to invite him to meet.

So, was it possible that the events of all those years ago had been a misunderstanding?

Could it be… that this person wasn’t as he had imagined?

Deng Tianyou couldn’t deny that the moment he saw the poem, this possibility overwhelmed his thoughts.

Or perhaps, he simply wanted to believe in it—

Even if the odds were one in ten thousand.

Deng Tianyou didn’t answer, but the flicker of hesitation in his eyes didn’t escape Qin Zhao’s notice.

Maintaining his calm and composed demeanor, Qin Zhao lazily raised the teacup in his hand. “It seems this cup of tea can continue, no?”

The night had grown late.

Ah Qi had disappeared somewhere, and a small koi darted through the corridors, slipping silently into the drainage channel by the courtyard.

It poked its head up, only to see the faintly flickering candlelight in the study from a distance. The conversation inside was too muffled to make out.

Why hasn’t it ended yet?

Jing Li anxiously swished its tail.

Qin Zhao had been talking with that magistrate for nearly an hour. Even the little fish fry, who had vowed to stay up until his dad came back to tell stories, had long since fallen asleep, clutching his tiny blanket. Still, Qin Zhao hadn’t returned.

Normally, this wouldn’t be such a big deal, but Qin Zhao had only recently recovered from a fever. How could his body endure such strain?

What on earth was that man named Deng talking about with Qin Zhao for so long?

Jing Li squirmed restlessly in the house, but not daring to interrupt their serious discussion, it shifted into its original form and snuck over to take a peek.

It waited in the courtyard for nearly half an hour before the study door finally creaked open.

Qin Zhao stepped out first, advising as he did, “What we discussed tonight stays between you and me. Not a word to anyone else.”

“I understand completely. Rest assured,” Deng Tianyou replied with a nod.

Qin Zhao, seemingly exhausted from the prolonged conversation, was hit by the night breeze and doubled over in a coughing fit.

The magistrate, dignified as he was, immediately reached out to steady Qin Zhao, his attitude unusually deferential. “Your health… I know a few renowned physicians. Once we’re in the capital, I’ll have them take a look at you.”

“We’ll see when the time comes.” Qin Zhao finally managed to suppress the cough and waved him off. “It was already a risk to summon you for this meeting. In the current situation, it’s best not to complicate matters further.”

Deng Tianyou let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. I’ll do as you say.”

Qin Zhao escorted Deng Tianyou to the gate, watching him leave before shutting the door and turning back. As he passed through the courtyard, he caught sight of a familiar shadow in the drainage channel.

A small koi lay there quietly, gazing up at him.

Qin Zhao froze mid-step.

It was impossible to discern expressions on a fish’s face, but somehow Qin Zhao felt an inexplicable chill.

He thought back. Did I… say anything wrong just now?

“X-Xiao Yu?”

For once, there was a hint of guilt in Qin Zhao’s voice. Before he could say more, the little fish swished its tail, leapt out of the channel, and darted toward the backyard without looking back.

Qin Zhao: “…”