Author Archives: sandy

Before Zhang shi could flare up, the blockheaded Mu Jiafeng grew anxious at once.

He yanked Mu Xing over, looked him up and down twice, then hurriedly turned to Zhang shi and Mu Dazhu:
“In that case, Father, Mother, we’d better hurry and take Xiaobao away. Xiaobao’s body is so weak—if someone clashes with his fate and makes him sick, what’ll we do then?”

Hearing this, Old Madam Mu quickly pressed her palms together and chanted Amitabha, nerves taut:
“Jiafeng is right. Let’s pack and go quickly—we mustn’t let Xiaobao be harmed.”

In these times, people were deeply superstitious about fate and spirits. Zhang shi had been furious at the old nurse’s tone, but hearing her family speak this way, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy too.

She went to Mu Xing’s side, touched his cheek, and asked with concern:
“Xiaobao, do you feel unwell anywhere?”

Mu Xing shook his head and casually glanced at the old stewardess.

As expected, her face was already black as the bottom of a pot.

He didn’t believe she dared joke about the young master’s health; there really might be something to this “fate clash.” But it was obvious she wasn’t here just to deliver a message.

She was here to intimidate, to humiliate the Mu family.

What she didn’t expect was that the Mu family wouldn’t play by common sense at all.

What did these people mean? From their words, it almost sounded like they were worried her young master would harm this child!

She gave Mu Xing a dark look and said coldly:
“Young Master is of such noble birth, favored by His Majesty and the Noble Consort. If Young Master Mu could ward off disaster for him, that would be a blessing for Young Master Mu himself.”

The words had scarcely left her lips before she met several pairs of murderous eyes.

The stewardess’s heart skipped, and she involuntarily took two steps back:
“You—”

She never finished. A broom came down across her face with a whack.

“Ah!”

Old Madam Mu wasn’t done venting her rage. Though older than the stewardess, years of farm work had kept her sturdy, and the big yard broom in her hands whirled with ferocity.

That stewardess, pampered and accustomed to deference as the old madam’s confidante, was utterly no match.

She’d only brought two little maids to keep the matter discreet, and they were waiting outside. There was no one to help her now.

—She was beaten flat to the ground, hair in disarray, hairpins and ornaments scattered everywhere.

Panting, one hand on her hip, Old Madam Mu began scolding:
“Filthy old hag! Your young master’s a treasure, but my Xiaobao’s just a weed? Pah!”

“You think anyone’s desperate for your household? If it weren’t for you insisting on bringing Xiaobao over, I wouldn’t have bothered to come! You take him in only to look down on him? I’d like to ask, do your masters have something wrong with their brains?”

The old stewardess was shaking with rage:
“You, you—”

“You what?” Old Madam Mu hurled the broom aside and gave her a sharp kick.

“We farmers never studied books, we don’t talk reason—but curse my grandson, and I’ll fight you to the death!”

“Grandma, calm down, have some water.” Mu Xing, seeing her panting hard, quickly offered her a cup. “It’s not worth ruining your health.”

The stewardess finally managed a breath, and seeing Mu Xing stop his grandmother, she thought he was siding with her.

Recalling the old madam’s orders, she hurriedly said:
“Young Master Mu, the old madam never said to drive you out. You’re her own grandson—she still thinks of you.”

Mu Xing found it laughable: if that old madam truly cared about him, would this stewardess dare speak to him this way?

Seeing him silent, the stewardess thought she’d struck a chord. Climbing up, straightening her clothes, she cast a contemptuous look at Old Madam Mu before forcing a smile at Mu Xing:
“Young Master Mu, the old madam hasn’t said you must leave the capital. Our Marquis’ household has fine estates outside the city. You could live there comfortably, with dozens of maids and servants to attend you—no worse than being in the main house. Ah!”

She was cut short by a ringing slap across the face.

Old Madam Mu had struck her again, snarling:
“Get out!”

Then she turned to her son and daughter-in-law:
“Pack up quick—we’re leaving today. I don’t want to stay another moment in this unlucky place!”

What kind of person isn’t even allowed into the household, only shoved into a side estate?

That was an unacknowledged bastard child, excluded from the family registry!

Who were they trying to humiliate?

Old Madam Mu hugged Mu Xing, fearing he’d be hurt:
“Xiaobao, don’t be sad. Your birth parents are blind. Your grandmother loves you. We don’t need them.”

Mu Xing blinked, hugging her back:
“Grandmother, I’m not sad. I never thought of them as my family.”

“My real parents are all right here, aren’t they?”

---

When they were leaving, people from the Marquis’ house were still outside. The old stewardess cast the Mu family a dark, poisonous look.

Zhang shi hesitated, then went to her:
“The young master of your house…”

The stewardess’s smile was cold:
“The young master is well. He’s the Marquis and Madam’s legitimate son—his future could never be compared to that of a peasant’s child from the countryside.”

Zhang shi sighed:
“I understand. Please, carry a message for me: may he have a bright future, and a life of peace and joy.”

The stewardess sneered:
“Spare me your words. As long as your family doesn’t disturb him, he’ll live smoothly and happily enough.”

Zhang shi said nothing more, turning to leave.

The stewardess’s gaze turned venomous as she watched their carriage roll away.

Hidden in her sleeve were several silver notes, originally meant by the old madam to be given to the Mu family. Now she had no intention of handing them over.

Leaving aside how that old stewardess twisted black and white once she returned, stirring trouble until the masters of the Marquis of Cheng’en’s household flew into a rage and exhausted what little good impression they’d had of Mu Xing—

The Mu family, having hired an ordinary carriage to leave the capital, soon saw scenes completely different from before.

When they’d come to the capital, they rode in the Marquis’ carriages. Ordinary folk kept well out of the way, and the Mus mostly stayed inside. What little they saw from the windows was only the prosperity of the capital.

But on the return trip, the common carriage jolted and swayed uncomfortably. The family often had to get out to stretch when they stopped to eat.

On the very first day, they saw many ragged travelers, some with bundles on their backs—whole families who looked like refugees fleeing disaster.

“Xiaobao, here.” Someone shoved a plump white steamed bun into Mu Xing’s hands. Before he could eat, he felt a pair of burning eyes fixed on him.

Not far ahead, a disheveled middle-aged man holding a child’s hand stared at the bun like a starving wolf.

Old Madam Mu was already chatting with the carter:

“I stayed in the capital a few days and only saw noise and bustle everywhere. Why is it, just outside the city, there are so many refugees?”

“You’re not from around here, are you, madam?”

The driver took a gulp of water and sighed. “There’ve been disasters in several regions this year. You can’t imagine how many families are fleeing. With nowhere to live, they just camp out under the open sky.”

Old Madam Mu looked back toward the capital. She could still glimpse the towering city gates.

She remembered how even a mere serving nurse in the Marquis’ household dripped with gold and jewels and had maids waiting on her.

She asked, “And the court doesn’t do anything?”

The driver barked a laugh as if at a joke. “Do anything? Who would? You saw the porridge sheds outside the gates, didn’t you?”

Old Madam Mu nodded.

The driver sneered. “A bowl of cloudy water with a few grains of rice—what good is that?”

He lowered his voice. “Best if you eat inside the carriage. Hungry folks in desperation will do anything.”

He’d sized them up—an old woman, children, only two sturdy adults—and feared others might get greedy.

Old Madam Mu hastily muttered Amitabha, then sighed. “Back home in the sticks, I thought life was hard. But hearing this, at least we have a few acres and the mountains for game. We’ll never starve or be homeless. Better off than them.”

Mu Xing listened quietly.

He sighed, wrapped a few buns in a clean cloth, and tossed them before the man and child.

When they looked up, all they saw was the carriage quietly waiting there.

The coach rolled on. Before long, it lurched to a halt.

“Who are you? Out of the way!” the driver barked.

Mu Dazhu lifted the curtain, and Mu Xing leaned out too.

It was the same man and child.

The middle-aged man blocked the carriage, eyes locked on the Mus.

Then he fell to his knees, kowtowing hoarsely: “Please, save my son’s life. Just a bite to eat. I beg you, take him with you!”

His forehead struck the ground and didn’t rise again. Alarmed, the driver jumped down to check, then cried out: “He’s dead!”

The Mus were stunned, hurried down, and found the man still bleeding from old wounds—he must have been forcing himself on.

The boy beside him, hair tangled, stayed silent. His eyes gleamed fierce and bright like a wolf cub’s.

“What a sin…” Old Madam Mu muttered, looking from the boy to the body on the ground.

“This is your father? Do you have any other kin?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Maybe he’s dumb,” the driver muttered.

Old Madam Mu glanced at her son and daughter-in-law, and the three stepped aside to confer.

The boy suddenly looked at Mu Xing, pulled a small bundle from his clothes. Mu Xing recognized it—it was the one he’d thrown to them.

He smiled at the child. The boy said nothing, lowering his head again.

When the elders returned, Old Madam Mu bent toward him: “Would you like to come with us?”

The boy hesitated, then nodded faintly.

The driver sighed. “Madam, you’ve a kind heart. Following you at least gives him a chance.”

In times like these, such a child alone could hardly survive unless sold as a slave.

The Mus buried the father by the roadside, then set out again with the boy.

Five days later, they reached Dazhuang Village.

At home only Mu Jiawang’s wife Wang shi had stayed to keep the place. Seeing everyone return safe, she let out a long breath.

But when she saw the child at Mu Xing’s side, she couldn’t help asking: “And who is this?”

The boy now wore clean clothes, his hair neatly tied. The Mus hadn’t expected that a child they’d taken in by chance would be so delicately pretty.

And he wasn’t mute.

Likely because his family had perished and he’d been traumatized, he was wary and withdrawn. Only with Mu Xing did he show closeness—Mu Xing figured it was probably thanks to those steamed buns.

Zhang shi briefly explained the boy’s situation:

“Ah Yue has no family left. I think he’s even younger than Xiaobao—such a pitiful child. It’s not as if our family can’t feed one more mouth, so we brought him back.”

When Wang shi saw how good-looking Ah Yue was, she couldn’t help wanting to pat his head. But the boy darted back two steps, hiding behind Mu Xing with wary eyes.

Zhang shi sighed helplessly: “See? That’s how he is—he only talks to Xiaobao now.”

Wang shi didn’t mind. She was capable and had already heated water so everyone could bathe away the fatigue. By the time the family came out, a meal was waiting.

The child named Ah Yue was arranged to stay in the same room as Mu Xing.

---

That night.

Mu Xing was so tired his eyes could barely stay open, yet he couldn’t fall asleep—because the boy beside him, though unmoving, was clearly awake. His breathing gave it away.

Mu Xing asked softly, “Can’t sleep?”

The blanket shifted a little. Ah Yue clearly hadn’t expected him to still be awake.

With no reply, Mu Xing mumbled drowsily, “Are you sad? Missing home, missing your dad?”

The moment he said that, the boy’s breathing faltered, his body trembling faintly—like he was crying.

Mu Xing startled, his drowsiness gone. Propping himself up, he used the moonlight and his keen eyesight to see tear-filled eyes—bright red, biting down stubbornly, refusing to make a sound.

So stubborn.

After a thought, Mu Xing lay back down, pulling the child into his arms through the blanket, awkwardly comforting him:

“Don’t cry. Your uncle entrusted you to us with his dying breath—he must have wanted you to live well.”

He patted the quilt gently and said seriously: “Our family is really, really good. Grandma, father, mother—they all are. Truly.”

But when the boy kept trembling, Mu Xing tried to distract him, saying:

“You saw it these past few days, right? How good they are to me. But actually, I’m not even their real child.”

He briefly recounted his own background and what had happened at the Marquis of Cheng’en’s residence.

“See? I have birth parents, but what difference does it make? It’s thanks to the Mu family that I’m cherished. And we’ll take good care of you too.”

Perhaps because he used his own story to console Ah Yue, it worked a little.

The boy finally stilled and rasped hoarsely, “Marquis of Cheng’en’s household?”

Mu Xing, already growing sleepy again, patted the blanket absentmindedly, mumbling: “Mm. Marquis of Cheng’en. My parents are great nobles, but they despise me. I’m not sad, though, because I don’t care about them.”

He didn’t see how the boy’s wolf-like eyes stared wide open into the dark, filled with searing hatred—as if something in that darkness was the root of his deepest loathing.

---

The next morning, after breakfast, Mu Xing went to visit his teacher.

Naturally, Ah Yue followed as his new little shadow.

But at first sight of Xie Wang, Mu Xing was shocked—when he’d left, the old man had still been hale and vigorous. In just a few days, how had he aged so much?

“What’s so surprising?” Xie Wang chuckled carelessly. “I should’ve died the year I met you. Back then I fought an old rival and my inner organs were damaged. These past years I’ve survived only on that century-old ginseng and suppressing the injury with inner strength. That’s why I lasted this long.”

He coughed twice, then added, “By age, I’ve already lived past my due.”

Mu Xing felt pained. “Then… you can’t suppress it anymore?”

Xie Wang brushed the strings of his zither idly. “Don’t worry. Your master won’t die just yet. I can still drill you for a few more years.”

His gaze turned to Ah Yue. “And who’s this?”

Mu Xing said, “A child I picked up on the way back from the capital. His name’s Ah Yue.”

Xie Wang studied him intently, then remarked: “You have a wolf’s eyes. I see boundless hatred in them.”

Ah Yue’s eyes narrowed, dropping his head.

“Come here.”

Suddenly Ah Yue’s body was drawn forward by a gentle yet irresistible force, bringing him to the old man’s side. Two fingers pressed against his wrist.

After a long while, Xie Wang said: “Bone age, five years. Physically strong—clearly raised in comfort. Rare talent in his foundation, excellent for martial training.”

He asked, “Your hatred—does it involve Xing’er?”

Ah Yue shook his head. The Mu family were his benefactors.

“Good. Then—would you take me as your master?”

Ah Yue lifted his gaze.

Mu Xing was astonished. “Master… didn’t you say—?”

But Xie Wang ignored him, speaking only to Ah Yue: “With your talent, as long as you’re not utterly stupid, under my training you’ll one day be invincible. Isn’t that what you seek?”

Ah Yue’s eyes lit up, and he almost knelt.

“Wait.” Xie Wang stopped him. “On one condition.”

Ah Yue rasped, his voice rough from an old throat injury, “Please speak.”

Xie Wang said: “I will have only one heir to my legacy—Xing’er. His talent surpasses yours, but he was born weak and lacks ruthlessness. I fear he’ll suffer one day. If you want my martial arts, you must swear this: so long as you live, you must protect Xing’er.”

Mu Xing froze for a moment, all his helplessness turning into a dull ache:

“Master, it’s not like you don’t know what I can do. How could I be so easily taken advantage of?”

Sure, he wasn’t as “ruthless” as his master wanted, but honestly—he had never been the one to suffer losses.

And besides, Ah Yue was only five years old. Making a five-year-old his bodyguard? Mu Xing really couldn’t bring himself to do that.

But the old man and the child completely ignored him. Ah Yue had already dropped to his knees with a solid thump:

“Disciple greets Master.”

Xie Wang said in a deep voice: “Good. From today onward, you’ll come here with Xing’er every day.”

---

The morning passed quickly, and lunch was delivered by Wang shi.

Xie Wang wasn’t in good spirits, didn’t feel like eating, and went to rest.

Mu Xing turned to Ah Yue: “Don’t take my master’s words to heart. I’m telling you, you’ll see soon enough—I’m amazing.”

Ah Yue kept his head down, eating in silence.

Just then, a leaf drifted down from above and landed on the stone table where they were eating.

Mu Xing said, “Look!”

Ah Yue watched as his pale fingers picked up the leaf and flicked it forward lightly—

That soft leaf instantly became a deadly weapon, whistling through the air before embedding itself deep into a tree trunk ahead.

Ah Yue’s eyes lit up.

Mu Xing said with a bit of pride: “Told you I was amazing. And I don’t even run around in the martial world—other than my master, I’ve never met another martial artist. So he’s just worrying too much.”

Ah Yue asked slowly: “In the future, will I… be this strong too?”

Mu Xing thought about it, then said: “Probably? Master has really high standards. If he says you’ve got good bones, then you must have talent. And this isn’t even that hard.”

Ah Yue nodded earnestly.

It was a good thing only Mu Xing and Ah Yue were around—if any martial artists had heard that last line, they’d probably cry themselves to death.

---

The Mu family was overjoyed to hear that Ah Yue had been accepted as a disciple by Mister Xie. Zhang shi personally prepared a big feast to celebrate and even went to town to carefully choose gifts as tuition offerings, treating Ah Yue as one of their own children.

But before this, Mu Xing had always been Xie Wang’s only disciple. With his master indulging him, he’d always thought himself quite diligent.

That was, until Ah Yue arrived.

Mu Xing was stunned by the boy’s dedication.

Other than eating and sleeping, it was nothing but training, training, training.

He secretly asked Xie Wang if this was bad for him, but Xie Wang only said that with Ah Yue’s constitution, plus the medicinal baths he prepared, the boy could handle it.

Mu Xing thought about it and figured maybe he should also work harder—only to be stopped immediately by Xie Wang.

“He trains with hatred in his heart, with a purpose. Someone like him can become a peerless expert, but he’ll never be a disciple of my Carefree Sect. You don’t need to imitate him.”

Where Xie Wang was harsh with Ah Yue, he was gentle with Mu Xing:

“Xing’er, just follow your own pace and interests. No need to exhaust yourself.”

Mu Xing: …

So that’s what double standards look like, huh, Master.

Even with his master’s reassurance, Mu Xing still felt that Ah Yue’s way wasn’t healthy.

Since the boy listened to him, Mu Xing would drag him to the mountains whenever he had the chance.

It wasn’t really for himself—it was to make Ah Yue relax a little.

The mountains were Mu Xing’s domain. Animals seemed to like him naturally, and whenever he went, a few creatures would always show up around him.

He’d catch them and shove them into Ah Yue’s hands.

“Hug them! Their fur’s so soft, so cute, right?” Mu Xing grinned.

Ah Yue held the squirrel stiffly, staring at it with a blank face.

Mu Xing sighed. “Ah Yue, you’re always unhappy.”

He reached out and ruffled Ah Yue’s neatly combed hair until it was messy, thinking the texture wasn’t bad—like petting a rabbit. Ahem.

He composed himself, speaking earnestly:

“I know you’ve got things hidden inside, and I won’t pry into your secrets. But I do know this—your loved ones, as long as they truly loved you, would only want you to be well. They’d want you to live happily, not carry hatred and brood until your life is nothing but revenge.”

Ah Yue quietly looked at him.

Mu Xing stood, brimming with energy as he ladled out some “chicken soup for the soul”:

“Of course! If you’ve got enemies, then of course you should take revenge! Otherwise, you’ll never feel at peace. Right? But at the same time, while holding onto that hatred, you should also notice the good things in life.”

He bent down, scooped up the squirrel Ah Yue had just tossed away, and stuffed it back into his arms:

“Like this squirrel—look how nice it feels to pet, isn’t it?”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

It wasn’t until Lu Jiaming was settled back on his bed, with the old madam, the Marquis, and the marchioness all keeping vigil at his side, that their emotions gradually calmed. Only then did the marchioness remember the other child who had been left behind.

“That… Xing’er…” The marchioness suddenly realized that in her panic earlier, she had shoved him aside and not cared where he fell. She thought to rise and go look, but Lu Jiaming clutched at her sleeve, uneasy:

“Mother, who is Xing’er? Was that the one you were holding just now? Wh-where are you going?”

The old madam glanced at her daughter-in-law, then patted Jiaming’s hand with a smiling face:

“Don’t be afraid, Jiaming. Your mother is right here with you, she’s not going anywhere.”

The marchioness froze, then lowered her head and smiled gently:

“Yes, mother will stay here with Jiaming.”

Jiaming was so gravely ill now, he indeed needed someone by his side more. That other child looked healthy and sound; surely he could look after himself.

---

Inside the main hall of Songhe Hall.

The fourth master had been watching all along—the child shoved to the floor by his birth mother, staring blankly as everyone else bustled about the fainting heir, then noisily left him behind.

All were shocked by the sight of the little young master vomiting blood, and not one paid attention to this newly arrived boy.

He watched Mu Xing’s blankness shift to silence, then saw him climb back up by himself without a word.

After savoring the scene long enough, the fourth master finally walked over, wearing a face of concern, and comforted him:

“That just now… was my elder brother’s younger son.”

Seeing Mu Xing lift his head toward him, the fourth master knew he had understood the meaning.

With an expression full of pity, he said soothingly:

“Your uncle and aunt didn’t mean to neglect you… it’s just that Jiaming has been spoiled from birth, indulged too much. As the youngest, the family has always doted on him.”

Mu Xing thought: if this were a child truly longing for his birth parents, wouldn’t such words cut to the bone?

When the fourth master finished, he watched Mu Xing with interest, wanting to see the boy’s reaction.

And then he saw Mu Xing raise his head, wearing the very same comforting smile he himself had just used:

“Fourth Uncle, you don’t need to say more, I understand.”

Mu Xing’s brows drew together faintly, looking genuinely sympathetic:

“I’ve had weak health since childhood too. My parents and grandmother especially doted on me. Seeing how frail and disheveled that young master looked just now, it’s understandable that the family loves him more.”

The fourth master mulled over these words, feeling something was off.

And then he heard Mu Xing continue:

“I was born sickly, and countless doctors said I wouldn’t live past eighteen. But even so, I’ve never vomited blood.”

Looking worried, Mu Xing’s expression was utterly earnest:

“Judging by the young master’s pale face, he seems in far worse condition than me. Could it be… he doesn’t have much time left?”

Fourth Master: “…”

His gaze deepened, as though seeing Mu Xing for the first time, before he smiled faintly:

“Xing’er is overthinking. Jiaming’s constitution has always been sound.”

Mu Xing only nodded:

“Then I’m relieved. Since there’s nothing serious, please send me back now, Fourth Uncle.”

The fourth master was startled:

“Back? Where to?”

Mu Xing replied as if it were obvious:

“My parents and grandmother are waiting for me, of course I must return to them. The young master of the Marquis’ household is here, he just spat blood after all.”

The fourth master put away his smile:

“Xing’er, I know you’re young and quick-tempered. I know you’ve been wronged today. But you must understand—temper must be measured against circumstance. Some things cannot be changed just by throwing a little tantrum.”

His tone grew meaningful:

“You may not yet realize how high the gates of the Marquis’ household stand. Once you walk out, entering again will be very difficult.”

He did not believe Mu Xing’s words, assuming the boy was simply using retreat to advance.

He was warning him: know when to stop.

But he had no idea that Mu Xing had never intended to stay in the Marquis’ household. With his nature and standpoint, it was hard for him to imagine someone choosing the humble Mu family over the Marquis’ wealth.

Mu Xing only shook his head with a laugh.

He had come here simply because he didn’t fully trust the dreams the glowing orb had given him. Compared to some strange, inexplicable dream, he trusted his own eyes more.

If the Marquis’ household had been an honest family like the Mus, victims of a scheming servant, then as their blood, granting his pitiful birth parents a glimpse of their true child would have been only right.

But now it seemed—the orb wasn’t entirely wrong.

The Marquis’ household clearly placed little value on this “bloodline.” In their eyes, ten Mu Xings weren’t worth a single finger of Lu Jiaming.

Since that was the case, Mu Xing, who felt no affection for the Marquis’ house to begin with, naturally bore no burden in leaving.

As for Lu Jiaming…

Mu Xing looked at the fourth master, speaking with utmost sincerity:

“To tell the truth, Fourth Uncle, I know a little of fortune-telling. I calculated, and it seems the young master Jiaming and I are fated to clash. Look—since I arrived, he’s fallen so gravely ‘ill.’ If I don’t leave, I fear his sickness will never recover.”

The first part was nonsense, but the latter was true.

Just now, seeing Lu Jiaming’s pallor and the blood he spat, Mu Xing had instinctively used his inner energy to probe his body.

Lu Jiaming’s qi and blood were abundant—his body was clearly in excellent health.

This illness was, more than likely, feigned.

Learning Mu Xing’s identity and then staging this scene at such a moment—remembering the tricks Lu Jiaming had used in his dream—Mu Xing instantly knew what he was aiming at.

Only this time, Mu Xing had arrived at the Marquis’ household a few years earlier, and he himself was no helpless beggar like in the dream.

Compared to the composed, calculating Lu Jiaming of the dream, the present young master, harming himself to gain pity, was far more childish.

But childish or not didn’t matter—so long as it worked.

In the dream, the little beggar had withered away under Lu Jiaming’s constant intentional and unintentional suppression. Mu Xing, however, had no interest in becoming anyone else’s sacrificial pawn.

He repeated, “Please send me back, Fourth Master.”

Not even calling him “Fourth Uncle” anymore.

The fourth master looked at this child standing ramrod straight, realizing he had likely underestimated him from the very start.

But so what?

No matter how clever, he was still just a child with no background.

And the Marquis’ household could crush him as easily as crushing an ant.

Since matters had come to this, the fourth master naturally would not stoop further by escorting Mu Xing out himself.

He casually found a steward and ordered him to take Mu Xing back to the other residence.

---

When the Mu family saw Mu Xing return, they immediately crowded around him.

“Xiaobao is back.”

Seeing Mu Xing dressed in rich finery, they were momentarily dazed.

It was Mu Jiajia who first spoke, her eyes sparkling: “Xiaobao, you look so handsome in these clothes.”

Zhang shi quickly came to her senses and agreed: “I’ve seen those noble young masters from big families, but none of them look as fine as our Xiaobao.”

Saying this, she suddenly realized something, hurriedly correcting herself: “Our Xiaobao is a noble young master to begin with.” Yet her expression dimmed slightly.

Mu Xing noticed. He stepped back, removed the golden coronet from his head, untied the jade belt at his waist, and shrugged off the ornate robe, tossing them all onto the ground.

“Now that’s better.” Seeing his family staring in shock, Mu Xing grinned, his eyes crinkling. “What good is looking nice? It was strangling me half to death.”

Looking at Zhang shi, his tone softened unconsciously, no trace of the defiance he’d shown before the fourth master: “Mother, the cotton clothes you make are still the most comfortable. Could you bring me a set?”

Zhang shi froze, her eyes reddening, and she answered again and again: “Yes… yes, of course.”

Once Mu Xing had changed back into his plain clothes and tied up his hair, the family sat around him, asking if he had met his birth parents at the Marquis’ household.

Mu Xing recounted everything, without exaggeration or concealment.

Mu Jiafeng couldn’t help clenching his fists: “What do they mean by this? If they didn’t want Xiaobao, why come looking at all?”

Zhang shi frowned deeply: “I’ve heard great households are full of rules. With favoritism shown so blatantly, even if Xiaobao went, how could his days be good?”

Then, worriedly, she added: “But hearing Xiaobao say, that child seems truly favored in the Marquis’ household. If that’s the case, I shouldn’t worry so much. Only… vomiting blood… is his body weak?”

A mother’s heart is made of flesh. Zhang shi naturally favored Xiaobao, but for that unseen son of hers, she still carried sincere concern.

Mu Xing hesitated. He couldn’t very well say outright that Lu Jiaming was faking, so he said instead: “I never heard he was in poor health. Supposedly, he learned the truth and couldn’t accept it, so he fell ill.”

Zhang shi fell silent, then forced a smile: “Perhaps the child is just more sensitive.”

Mu Jiajia blurted: “That’s being too fragile. I think he just couldn’t accept not being the Marquis’ young master anymore. Seems he looks down on our family, and the Marquis’ house doesn’t want to give him back. Then it’s perfect—everyone’s happy. Let’s take Xiaobao back to Dazhuang Village. That’s best.”

She was still young; she felt no bond toward a “younger brother” she had never seen, and after hearing how Xiaobao was wronged, her indignation was naturally on his behalf.

Zhang shi said, “After all, those are parents who raised him over ten years. Learning the truth all at once… it’s normal they can’t accept it.”

As a mother, she would never willingly measure her child with malicious thoughts.

Mu Xing didn’t expose Lu Jiaming, only said: “I’ll send word to the steward here, saying our family wants to meet him. Mother, when you see him, you can talk to him. After that, depending on how he responds, we’ll decide whether to go back.”

---

He told the steward at the other residence that the Mu family, as distant relatives, wished to meet the Marquis.

The steward smiled agreeably, not daring to suppress them, and passed along the message.

The Mu family waited in the other residence for more than ten days, before at last the old madam’s trusted servant came.

But it was not to invite them inside to meet Lu Jiaming.

That old nursemaid’s gaze at Mu Xing was like staring at poison:

“A master came to the house and declared that Young Master Mu’s fate clashes with our little young master’s. They must not stay under the same roof.”

Madam Mu shielded Mu Xing behind her, frowning: “What is the meaning of this?”

The nursemaid’s smile was cold: “It means the Marquis’ household hopes you leave the capital quickly, so as not to disturb our young master’s peace.”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Mu Xing wasn’t wrong at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At that moment, his silence spoke louder than words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

Five days later, the party arrived at the capital.

---

In the Marquis of Cheng’en’s household.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did he have to appear now?

Her life had been so smooth before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What then?

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

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

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

---

In the Pine-Crane Hall of the old madam.

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

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

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

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

“I understand,” Kang-shi replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fortunately, his “assist” arrived on cue.

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

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

The arms holding Mu Xing stiffened.

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

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

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

His words suddenly cut off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At last, the script was back on track.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Mu Xing looked at it suspiciously. “Really? But as I recall, in that first dream of mine, it would still be several years before the Marquis’s household discovered my identity, right?”

Besides, in this life Mu Xing had never even planned to go to the capital. He had thought it through quite clearly: as long as he didn’t go there, as long as he never met the Marquis’s household, his identity would never be exposed.

He didn’t value so-called bloodlines that much. The Mu family was fine. By comparison, he would much rather continue being their child.

“Did you tamper with something?” He had always felt that this light orb had no good intentions, even if every time it spoke it put on the appearance of acting for his sake.

But now, without its interference, how could the Marquis’s household suddenly discover the child had been switched?

The orb hastily denied it. “No, it wasn’t me, I didn’t. I’m just a useless little orb of light—how could I harbor bad intentions?”

Mu Xing gave a short hum, clearly unconvinced.

The orb said, “Returning to your rightful clan is what you ought to do, and it’s also the fate you must experience. Look, even though you ignore me, destiny still moves in the direction it should.”

Mu Xing shook his head. “I don’t think so. Isn’t a person’s life lived out by themselves?”

He pointed at himself. “If fate was already set, then why would you urge me to go early to the Marquis’s household to acknowledge kin? According to that dream, I wouldn’t even have been taken home by Mother, I should have been a beggar, dying in my teens. But now I’m living well. Obviously, that dream wasn’t real at all.”

He looked at the orb, smiling. “I even think you yourself aren’t real.”

“So don’t enter my dreams again and talk about useless things.”

The moment Mu Xing finished speaking, he opened his eyes.

He woke from the dream.

It was still before dawn, and he couldn’t sleep anymore.

Getting up and dressing, he stepped outside the courtyard, breathed in the cool morning air, and took a deep breath.

Thinking of what the orb had said in the dream, he shook his head.

Once, he had worried: if the Mu family learned he wasn’t their biological child, if the Marquis’s household came to claim him, what should he do?

But now he was calm.

Why care about others? He trusted the Mu family, trusted himself.

As for the Marquis’s household… it was only a matter of blood ties. The beggar in the dream cared about that—he didn’t.

At that thought, the qi inside his body suddenly surged rapidly, advancing noticeably in just a single moment.

Mu Xing was taken aback, then laughed. So this cultivation method truly lived up to the words “Xiaoyao”—free and unrestrained.

---

The next day would be Mu Jiawang’s wedding.

The Mu family had rebuilt a new house two years ago, neat and fine with green bricks and tile, spacious and beautiful. Each child now had their own room.

A lively day passed, and the following morning, just as the new bride was offering tea to the elders, a commotion rose outside.

Mu Jiafeng went out to look, and soon came running back shouting, “There’s a group outside, riding horses, with sedan chairs and a carriage—it’s so grand! They said they’re here to find Father and Mother.”

The Mu family members exchanged glances. They didn’t know any household so distinguished.

Mu Xing more or less knew who had come. Smiling, he said, “Maybe they’ve got the wrong family. Sister-in-law, go on and serve tea—I’m still waiting for the red envelopes from Big Brother and Sister-in-law!”

Everyone laughed, and the bride Wang shi blushed.

Before marrying in, she had inquired about the Mu family. She’d heard her husband had a younger brother who looked like an immortal child, said to be frail since birth and spoiled by the family. She had worried he might be hard to get along with.

But that unease had vanished the moment she saw Mu Xing yesterday.

Wang shi naturally thought: with such a beautiful younger brother, how could he possibly be difficult?

Never mind that the Mu family spoiled him—who wouldn’t like such a good-looking, delicate little youth?

Even if he were a bit spoiled in temperament, she could simply humor him.

---

Since people had come, the Mu family quickly finished the ceremony and went outside to see.

As soon as Mu Xing stepped out, he saw them: a line of guards in uniform riding tall horses at the front, two blue-cloth sedan chairs in the middle, and a carriage.

The riders didn’t dismount, and neither the carriage nor the sedan chairs lifted their curtains even a fraction.

Standing beside Mu Xing, Mu Jiajia muttered softly, “Who are these people, putting on such airs?”

Mu Xing whispered back, “Who knows?”

The lead guard, seeing them emerge, didn’t even properly look at them. From his high perch he asked, “Is this the Mu household of Dazhuang Village, master Mu Dazhu, madam Zhang Xinglan?”

The tone was unpleasant.

Mu Dazhu, an honest man, didn’t think too much of it. He simply answered politely, “I am Mu Dazhu, and this is my wife Zhang. May I ask who you are?”

The guard declared proudly, “My lord is of the Marquis of Cheng’en’s household in the capital!”

Mu Dazhu didn’t understand official titles, but hearing “capital” and “marquis household,” he knew it was impressive.

He grew uneasy, unconsciously standing straighter.

The guard then asked, “Do you have here an eleven-year-old young… master, with a birthdate on the ninth day of the ninth month?”

Eleven years old, ninth day of the ninth month—that was clearly Mu Xing.

At mention of his son, all of Mu Dazhu’s unease vanished.

He looked at the guard with vigilance. “Why are you asking these things?”

In fact, the Marquis’s household had already investigated everything before coming here. This was just a token question, and by their lord’s order, also a way to put on a show of authority.

That guard finally deigned to lower his gaze, letting it sweep down like condescension, and the moment it landed on Mu Xing standing behind Zhang, his pupils shrank.

Without even needing to ask, without even needing to guess, he almost instantly knew—this had to be the youth their master had spoken of, very likely the young lord.

If he weren’t the Marquis’s son, then in this poor and remote place, how could such an outstanding young boy have been raised?

Among their party, only he and Chen Mama, still sitting in the sedan chair and keeping up appearances, knew the truth.

At first, the guard hadn’t thought much of this “young master.” In his mind, even if the child carried the Marquis’s blood, raised for over ten years in the countryside, he would surely be nothing more than a crude, ignorant brat.

But seeing Mu Xing’s appearance now, he knew he was wrong.

He smiled at Mu Xing in a friendly manner and asked, “You must be the Mu family’s youngest son? Mu Xiaobao?”

In Dazhuang Village, everyone called him Mu Xiaobao since birth. That was also the name they’d uncovered in their inquiry—the very name the Marchioness had once scorned as vulgar and coarse.

Mu Xing ignored him.

He bore grudges—this man had barked at his father earlier, and hmph, he would remember it!

Seeing his silence, the guard merely thought him shy. He turned his horse and respectfully called toward the sedan chair ahead, “Chen Mama.”

From the carriage behind, a young maid hopped down to lift the sedan curtain, and an older woman adorned with jewels stepped out.

Mu Xing’s impression of these people instantly plummeted: one after another, so full of airs.

Even the guards and servants put on such grand manners—what kind of character could their master be?

As Chen Mama emerged, both the Mu family and the villagers gathered to watch were left stunned—never had Dazhuang Village seen such a wealthy-looking lady.

Even the ladies of prominent families in the county town didn’t always carry such presence.

Savoring their envious and awestruck gazes, Chen Mama felt smug and disdainful.

She lazily lifted her eyelids, looked over the Mu family, then—like the guard—her eyes locked firmly onto Mu Xing.

But Chen Mama was different from the guard.

She was a household-born servant of the Marquis of Cheng’en, a trusted aide of the old marchioness, raised within the household since childhood.

Why had the Lu clan of the Marquis of Cheng’en thrived for generations?

Because of their beauty. Over the course of this dynasty, the family had produced nearly ten imperial consorts.

Most recently, the favored concubine who had borne the Second Prince was the Marquis’s own sister—once hailed as the unrivaled beauty of the capital.

Chen Mama had watched that concubine grow up. And now, looking at this plainly dressed youth before her, she realized he outshone every member of the younger generation of the Marquis’s household. His features were strikingly like those of the noble concubine.

At once, her face bloomed with warmth. She walked forward, reaching out to grasp Mu Xing’s hand. “So this is our household’s young master? What a handsome and talented boy…”

But before she could touch him, another hand seized hers.

Though Chen Mama was a servant, she had lived more finely than most mistresses. Yet Zhang shi, hardened from years of mountain labor, had real strength in her hands.

One grab, and Chen Mama cried out in pain.

Zhang shi stared at her coldly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Her mind spun rapidly. Her Xiaobao was so good-looking—could these people be human traffickers?

With that thought, her eyes toward Chen Mama grew even harsher.

Chen Mama snapped angrily, “You… insolent! Release me at once! Guards, drag this shrew away!”

The guards quickly dismounted and surrounded them.

Mu Xing shoved Chen Mama aside and grabbed Zhang shi’s hand. “Who exactly are you people? To bully others so openly in broad daylight—do you hold no regard for the law of the land?”

Chen Mama, hearing his voice, forced herself to calm down.

The moment she had seen Mu Xing’s face, her dismissive attitude had shifted. Whatever else, with such a face, the Marquis’s household would never deny him—and he would likely win the noble concubine’s favor.

If she offended the Mu family now, Mu Xing might remember it against her.

And those words he’d just spoken…

She asked in surprise, “Young master, you’ve studied?”

By now, Mu Jiawang and Mu Jiafeng had stepped up protectively beside their mother and younger brother.

Mu Jiafeng, already annoyed by their arrogance, rolled his eyes. “And what’s so strange about that? Can’t country folk study? Not only my little brother—our whole family has studied!”

Even if Master Xie hadn’t acknowledged them as his disciples, they had still learned to read and write. They weren’t lying!

Chen Mama waved a hand, ordering the guards to step back.

She smiled warmly at Zhang shi. “It’s all a misunderstanding, Madam Zhang. I’m the stewardess of the Marquis of Cheng’en. Today I’ve come to discuss a most important matter with you.”

Zhang shi shook her head and stepped back. “We are just a peasant family. We have no ties to the Marquis’s household, and nothing important enough to discuss with you.”

Chen Mama’s smile tightened. “Madam Zhang truly won’t hear me out? Eleven years ago, at Qingshan Temple, the lady who gave birth alongside you—that was the Marchioness of Cheng’en.”

Zhang shi still remembered the night Xiaobao was born.

A sense of dread surged in her heart. She clutched Mu Xing’s hand tighter, her voice taut. “What are you trying to say?”

Seeing her reaction, Chen Mama smiled knowingly. “Too many ears here. Why don’t we go inside to talk?”

Zhang shi fell silent for a moment, glanced at Mu Dazhu, then turned and walked into the house.

Chen Mama ordered the guards to wait outside and followed her in.

Once inside, Chen Mama looked the room over with a critical eye. Only after confirming that the place was at least tidy did she pull out her handkerchief, wipe down a chair, and sit.

Mu Jiajia, seeing her pretentious manner, openly rolled her eyes.

“Please have the irrelevant people step out, Madam Zhang,” Chen Mama said smoothly. “Some matters—you wouldn’t want too many to overhear, would you?”

Zhang shi gave her a look of impatience, then suddenly slapped the table. “These are all my family. There are no ‘irrelevant people.’ What exactly are you trying to say, sneaking about like it’s some shameful secret?”

She wasn’t hot-tempered by nature, but this crowd had been putting on airs for long enough without saying a single useful word—it was downright irritating.

If not for the fact that the woman had mentioned Xiaobao, Zhang shi wouldn’t have let them in at all!

The bang made Chen Mama jump.

In the Chen household’s inner court, she usually dealt with noble ladies from powerful families, women whose servants were deferential and polite. When had she ever encountered such a coarse, brash woman?

She was sharp-tongued and skilled in manipulation, but against this kind of blunt force, she had no defense.

She reached for tea to calm her temper, only to realize that the Mu family hadn’t served her any at all—not because they didn’t know courtesy, but because her own behavior had already soured everyone’s mood. Who would bother to cater to this old crone?

Forcing herself to swallow her anger, Chen Mama finally said, “Since Madam Zhang insists, then I’ll speak plainly.”

She looked directly at Mu Xing. “According to the investigation by our Marquis’s household, your young son is in fact of the Marquis of Cheng’en’s bloodline.”

“Bullshit!” Zhang shi, after waiting so long only to hear that, could no longer hold back the fury she had suppressed.

She shot to her feet, jabbing a finger at Chen Mama, and cursed: “I wondered what nonsense you’d spout. So it’s to steal my son? I carried Xiaobao ten hard months in my womb, nearly lost my life to give birth, and this family has poured endless effort into raising him this far. And you—you dare, you actually dare to say such things?”

She pointed toward the door. “Get out. Or don’t blame me if I stop being polite.”

Mu Xing’s mouth fell open as he stared at her.

All his life, he had never seen Zhang shi this angry.

In front of him, his mother was always gentle and plain-spoken. Who would have thought, once roused, she could be this formidable?

Seeing her youngest son’s expression, Zhang shi softened at once. “Did Mother frighten Xiaobao just now? Forgive me, I’ll try to keep my voice down next time.”

Mu Xing, wide-eyed with admiration, said, “No. Mother was amazing just now.”

Then he added seriously, “I’m strong now, don’t treat me like a child anymore.”

His martial training wasn’t a secret in the family. Everyone knew his talent far surpassed Mu Jiafeng’s, and that he had grown powerful in his practice.

But somehow, the whole household still saw him through a strange filter: even after watching him slay a wild boar and drag it home single-handedly, they still thought of Xiaobao as delicate and frail, a little treasure to be coddled and protected.

It gave Mu Xing quite a headache.

Chen Mama had indeed been cowed by Zhang shi’s outburst at first, but regaining her composure, she felt humiliated.

She flicked her sleeve and sneered, “Why such anger, Madam Zhang? Do you know who the Marquis of Cheng’en is? Would we come chasing after some backwater child without solid proof?”

Her tone turned cutting. “Let me be blunt—whether young master is the legitimate heir or even just a concubine-born, once he returns he’ll be a true son of the Marquis’s house. Far better than wasting his life in this wretched countryside!”

Seeing Zhang shi remain silent, she thought she had won the upper hand.

Her eyes ran over Mu Xing, and she pasted on a kindly smile. “Young master, Chen Mama isn’t a bad person. I was sent by the Marquis himself to fetch you to the capital. And what is the capital? The very foot of the Son of Heaven’s throne! Once you’re there, you’ll never want to return.”

Mu Xing stared coldly, saying nothing.

At first she had only thought him beautiful, but now—those dark eyes fixed on her, unblinking—Chen Mama shivered despite herself.

When Zhang shi heard her trying to coax her son, she shoved her backward with a curse: “Old witch, not a word of truth from your mouth! Still scheming to trick my Xiaobao?”

Chen Mama tumbled hard onto her backside.

Crying out in pain, she scrambled up, face red with anger, and shrieked, “You shrew! Who are you trying to fool? Look at your family of crooked melons and cracked dates—could they birth a young lord like ours? Don’t you dare deny we have evidence!”

She spat out: “Back then, the maid-in-waiting Zhu was married off to a worthless gambler. Resentful, she took the chance when you and Madam were in labor together and switched the children!”

Zhang shi’s face shook, and she forced out a cold laugh through clenched teeth. “I don’t believe it!”

“You don’t?” Chen Mama scoffed. “I’ll tell you—young master looks exactly like our Imperial Consort, the Marquis’s sister! And what’s more, doesn’t he have a red birthmark on his back? The Marquis has the same! That’s proof of bloodline.

“I’ve come to retrieve the rightful young master of the Marquis’s house. Who are you to stand in the way?”

Zhang shi was struck dumb, her mind reeling. The others too were stunned by the revelation, frozen in place, speechless.

Seeing this, Chen Mama felt triumphant.

She looked again at Mu Xing, coaxing:
“Little young master, trust Chen Mama. You are the honored young master of our Marquis’s household. The Marquis and Madam are your true parents—they miss you dearly and cannot wait to see you.”

Mu Xing raised his head, his bright eyes fixing directly on her. “Is that so?”

Those eyes were so clear and penetrating, it felt as though they could see through every hidden thought in her heart.

Chen Mama coughed lightly. “But of course. The moment the Marquis and Madam learned of this matter, they immediately sent me here.”

Mu Xing suddenly smiled.

He turned, walked to Zhang shi’s side, and grasped her hand. Her palm was icy cold—clearly she was not as calm as she appeared.

He held on tighter and looked up: “Mother, if you suddenly discovered that your own child had been lost outside, and then heard news of him, what would you do?”

Zhang shi instinctively answered, “Of course I’d rush over to see him, to check if he’s well…”

Her words faltered midway, and she instantly understood Mu Xing’s meaning.

Forcing herself to stay composed, she turned to Chen Mama and asked sharply: “And who exactly are you in the Marquis’s household?”

Chen Mama thought the other woman was yielding, so she straightened her back and said proudly, “This old servant attends upon the Dowager Madam herself, managing half the inner court.”

Zhang shi might not understand the twists and turns of noble families, but she could tell right away this woman was still just a servant.

The thought struck her like lightning.

She pointed at Chen Mama and sneered: “I may not be learned, but I know one rule at least. For a great house like yours, to welcome home a son lost for more than ten years—yet you send just a stewarding servant?!”

Chen Mama froze.

Zhang shi hugged Mu Xing close, her eyes reddening. “So, not even his own father or mother came. Not even a proper elder. That alone shows you never truly valued Xiaobao. If you really looked down on this child, then why scramble over here to seize him?”

Her earlier fury now turned into raw heartache.

“You must already know how frail he was since birth. His father and grandmother and I have watched over him day and night, never daring to slack, always fearing he might… slip away. It’s been so hard to raise him to this point, finally healthy and lively. Even if he truly were some Marquis’s young master, he wasn’t raised for you to belittle!”

And she wasn’t wrong.

When the Marquis’s household received the news, apart from the Marchioness, no one took Mu Xing seriously.

First, the house was not lacking in sons. Second, learning he’d lived in the remote countryside for over a decade, they subconsciously assumed he was crude and unpresentable, sure to disgrace the family.

Most crucially, the boy who had been swapped with Mu Xing—Lu Jiaming—was the Dowager’s darling and the Marchioness’s precious heart.

No one was willing to part with him, nor did they plan to return him.

As for Mu Xing, they only meant to bring him back so the Marquis’s bloodline wouldn’t be left outside.

The Marchioness had shown some concern at first, but when Jiaming overheard the news, he fainted on the spot, fell into a fever, and kept crying for his mother. After that, she could no longer spare a thought for Mu Xing.

Chen Mama knew full well: how could a child unseen for ten-plus years compare to the one doted upon daily?

That was why, from the beginning, both she and the lead guard had dismissed Mu Xing.

Servants’ attitudes always followed their masters’.

But such things she could not admit aloud.

So she smiled and said, “Madam Zhang, what words are these? The young master is the Madam’s own child, a true heir. Who would dare belittle him? As for why the Marquis and Madam did not come—surely you understand, the matter is still being kept quiet, not to be paraded publicly. Once the young master is acknowledged, there will be a grand banquet, the world will be told of his return.”

“Kept quiet? Why keep it quiet?” Mu Xing suddenly interjected, staring curiously at her. “Is it because my years outside are too shameful? Or does the Marquis’s house have other plans?”

Then he asked, “Since you’ve come to fetch me back, when will my father and mother’s own lost child be returned here?”

He felt Zhang shi’s hand tremble slightly in his grip as he said it.

Chen Mama faltered, then blurted without thinking, “Our young master will of course remain in the Marquis’s house.”

She turned wary eyes on Zhang shi. “What do you mean by that? Do you harbor designs on our young master?”

Mu Xing let out a soft laugh.

“Chen Mama,” he said slowly, “you’ve brought so many here to fetch me, claiming it’s the Marquis’s household reclaiming their bloodline—a glory to us Mu family. And yet, if my mother wishes to see her own flesh and blood, that’s called scheming?”

Chen Mama retorted as if self-evident: “How could your Mu family compare with the Marquis’s house?”

“Why not?”

Madam Mu’s voice rang out, steady and cold: “Our Mu family may be humble, but we are an upright, clean-living household. We may not be as grand as a Marquis’s, but does that give you leave to trample us?”

She wasted no breath, only stared straight at Chen Mama. “If your Marquis’s house wants to take Xiaobao, bring human witnesses, evidence, and an official writ. Send a proper master of the household to receive him. Only then will we not stand in the way. Otherwise, never!”

“You old hag…” Chen Mama began furiously.

Mu Damei only looked at her son. “Dazhu, see the guest out.”

Chen Mama was “escorted” away.

The family glanced at each other, none knowing what to say.

Zhang shi collapsed into a chair. The newlywed Wang-shi, just inside the door, didn’t even dare speak and hid behind her husband.

Mu Xing looked around at them all, cleared his throat, intending to say something to ease the mood.

But that sound alone seemed to shatter the silence, and the room instantly grew lively.

Grandma Mu was first to grab him. “Xiaobao, don’t be afraid. Grandma and your parents will stand behind you—we won’t let you suffer even the slightest grievance.”

Zhang shi quickly came back to herself, looking him over anxiously. “Xiaobao, don’t be sad, don’t get angry—you’ll upset your health. Tell me, are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

Mu Jiawang added, “That’s right, Xiaobao, don’t overthink. You’ll always be our Xiaobao. If you don’t want to go, no one can take you away. But if you do want to go to the Marquis’s household…”

He said solemnly, “Big brother will personally take you. I wouldn’t be at ease unless I saw you safe with my own eyes.”

Mu Jiajia and Mu Jiafeng both chimed in:

“Xiaobao, don’t think too much.”

“I didn’t react just now—if that old hag dares come again, I’ll curse her until she can’t speak back!”

“If you go to the capital, I’ll go with you.”

“Me too. The capital’s far, right?”

“Far or not, it must be so much fun…”

Mu Jiawang finally snapped. “Fun? Fun your head! You two shut up!”

Mu Jiajia and Mu Jiafeng exchanged a glance and laughed.

Mu Xing also burst out laughing.

He knew they were joking on purpose, just to make him smile.

That was family. Even at such a moment, they only thought of cheering him up.

In a small voice he said, “Don’t worry. From their looks, they don’t even care much if I return. I won’t go with them. I’ll always be Mu family’s Xiaobao.”

Mu Jiajia seemed relieved, but also torn. She muttered, “But the Marquis is such a high official. If you became their young master, you’d live so well.”

She even imagined aloud, “Eating delicacies, riding horses and sitting in carriages like they did just now… I’ve never ridden in a carriage. Maybe you could even meet the Emperor!”

She looked at Mu Xing. “Staying here, wouldn’t you be missing out?”

The others, too, couldn’t help thinking along those lines.

Mu Xing shook his head. “What’s there to envy? Here, I’m everyone’s Xiaobao. In the Marquis’s household—you saw it—even their servants didn’t treat me like anything.”

At those words, the Mu family thought back on Chen Mama’s attitude and their hearts sank with worry.

Zhang shi said, “That’s true. Thinking on it, the Marquis’s house isn’t all that, is it?”

Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged him. “It’s just that your father and I are useless—we couldn’t give you a better life.”

Mu Xing: “…”

He helplessly hugged her back. “Xiaobao’s life is very good. Mother and Father are good. Grandma is good. Eldest brother, second sister, third brother are good.”

He glanced at Wang-shi, hovering cautiously behind Jiawang, and his eyes curved with a smile. “And sister-in-law is good too.”

As always, Mu Xing was the joy of the family. At his words, laughter burst out all around.

No one mentioned the Marquis’s young master again—as if he never existed.

But Mu Xing knew. They hadn’t forgotten. They just didn’t want to say it in front of him, afraid he’d be upset.

But he truly wasn’t upset.

And in any case, it wasn’t something he could avoid.

Leaning in his mother’s arms, he asked, “If I really am the Marquis’s son, then… the child who should have been Mu Xiaobao—what will you do about him?”

The family fell silent again.

After a long while, Zhang shi whispered, “I… I want to see him.”

Fearing Mu Xing would mind, she added quickly, “Just one look. From Chen Mama’s tone, he seems to be very favored in the Marquis’s household—he surely wouldn’t want to come back with us. I just want to see what he looks like.”

“I’d like to see him too.” Mu Xing patted her hand. “If I must go to the Marquis’s house, then you’ll come with me. Grandma probably wants to see her grandson too. Father certainly does…”

He counted them off, then made the decision: “Why don’t we all go together? Just treat it as a trip to the capital to see the world!”

Just then, Mu Dazhu came back in. He said nothing, just scooped Mu Xing up and shifted him in his arms, muttering, “Still so thin.”

The man who could never find sweet words used his actions to tell Mu Xing—today’s events hadn’t changed a thing.

Mu Xing, unwilling to concede, pinched at the flesh on his arm. “I’ve put on weight!”

*

That night, Mu Xing lay in bed.

The house was quiet, but he knew many of them likely wouldn’t sleep.

A premonition stirred in his chest—and sure enough, his mind wavered and he was pulled into that familiar darkness again.

The light orb glowed brighter than usual, clearly excited.

“You’re going to the Marquis’s household, aren’t you?” it said happily. “Let me tell you— the boy who was switched with you, Lu Jiaming, he’s the most beloved in the family.”

Mu Xing: “Oh.”

The orb prattled on: “Do you know how spoiled he is? He drinks tea from tribute crystal cups, his clothing and expenses equal to the Dowager’s, even the Imperial Consort likes him and summons him to the palace every few days…”

Mu Xing rubbed his temples. “You say the same things every time. Can’t you come up with something new?”

The light orb paused before replying, “But this time is different. You might not be able to picture it just from my words, but if you saw it with your own eyes, the feeling would be completely different.”

It coaxed him softly: “Mu Xing, this was supposed to be yours. You were born far more handsome than him, naturally likable. Even if he has eleven years of affection over you, as long as you strive for it, everyone will like you. The love that belongs to you will come back to you.

“He’s just a thief who stole your life. Don’t you want to watch him lose everything, to suffer the pain you went through in that dream?”

“As long as you want it, you can have everything. The entire Marquis’s household… could all belong to you.”

Bathed in the orb’s nonstop brainwashing, Mu Xing drifted off to sleep. By the time he woke up the next morning, his head was full of “the whole Marquis’s household belongs to you.”

He shook his head, thinking maybe the orb had found the wrong person.

If it were someone else, they might actually fight for it.

But what use was the Marquis’s household to him?

He had no shortage of food or clothes. As for grandeur and wealth, he had seen far more in his past life in a modern, developed society.

The point was, the orb didn’t understand him at all—he simply didn’t care.

The people of the Marquis’s household hadn’t left, but Mu Xing didn’t mind. The next day, he went to Xie Wang’s place to study as usual.

Xie Wang asked him once, “It seemed lively at your house yesterday?”

Mu Xing knew his master didn’t concern himself with outside affairs, so he probably didn’t know what happened. He told him the whole story.

“The Marquis of Cheng’en?” Xie Wang thought for a moment, then sneered. “A sycophantic, treacherous lot!”

“Huh?”

Mu Xing blinked. “Master, you even know about the Marquis’s household?”

Xie Wang tapped his head with a brush. “What does your teacher not know? That place is no good, filthy and foul. The court is full of fools and incompetents. Only the Marquis of Might is worth anything, but… loyal ministers and good generals are shackled everywhere.”

Mu Xing didn’t understand much, only praised, “Master is amazing, you even know about the court!”

Xie Wang only sighed.

Mu Xing asked, “What’s wrong?”

Xie Wang shook his head. “Nothing. Keep writing.”

So Mu Xing didn’t ask further and obediently practiced his calligraphy.

For several days, people from the Marquis’s household came daily to the Mu house. Fearing Mu Xing, they didn’t dare use force, only tried persuasion.

Later, they stopped coming, though guards still lingered outside the village.

About ten days later, Chen Mama arrived again, decked out in finery. She said, “You all think I’m not respectable enough, so you won’t let the young master return. I’ve written to the lord and lady. Well then, our fourth master is personally coming to fetch him. He’ll arrive in Dazhuang Village tomorrow.”

She didn’t bother pretending to be kind anymore, flicked her handkerchief, and said, “Young master, pack up whatever you have. Don’t delay tomorrow’s hour.”

Though her words said that, her manner clearly showed she didn’t think there was anything worth packing here.

Mu Xing replied, “My family doesn’t feel at ease. They want to come with me to take a look.”

Chen Mama forced a smile. “What’s there to be uneasy about? Our Marquis’s household isn’t some shabby little place, yet you fuss over this and that.”

Mu Xing said, “Not only that. My parents want to see your young master too.”

Chen Mama’s face instantly hardened. She looked at the Mu family as though they were filth. “What do you mean by that? Trying to cling to our young master? Don’t even think about it! Who do you think you are? Who is he? How dare you harbor such thoughts?”

Mu Xing corrected her calmly: “My parents aren’t anybody. They’re just the biological parents of the ‘respected young master’ you speak of.”

Chen Mama snapped, “Impossible!”

Mu Dazhu and Zhang shi clasped each other’s hands tightly.

Mu Xing glanced back at them, sighed, and said, “I don’t want to do this either, but you’re forcing me.”

He lifted his head and fixed Chen Mama with a sharp gaze. “My parents don’t want anything else. They just want to see what he looks like. If he doesn’t want to come back, we won’t force him. But if you refuse even this, then I’ll reveal the truth of his and my identities.”

Chen Mama’s face changed dramatically.

Recalling the dream, Mu Xing continued, “I suppose your Marquis’s household has kept this a secret all along. Even if you take me back, you’ll give me some other identity. You never intended to reveal the truth, did you?”

Regardless of her expression, he boldly threatened:

“Even if your household protects him, once it’s known he isn’t truly of Marquis blood, it will still have quite an impact on your young master, won’t it?”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Xie Wang could more or less guess why this woman was so agitated.

From the appearance and dress of her family, it was clear their days were not easy.

And yet, this naturally frail young boy was fair-skinned, clean, and—aside from being thin—looked perfectly fine. It was obvious the family cherished him dearly.

If they loved the child, they would surely have tried to get him seen by a doctor, and would know exactly what condition he was in. Now, upon hearing there might be a way to treat him, it was only natural for her to be excited.

He said, “I do not dare make absolute promises. But under the heavens, if I cannot cure him, I fear there will be no one else in the world who can. Only… in my current state…”

Even if he wanted to, standing on the threshold of death left him powerless.

Zhang-shi gritted her teeth, hesitated for a moment, then suddenly turned around and took something from the crude basket on her back:

“Elder, please look—would this ginseng… count as a rare medicine?”

*

Madam Mu was called out of the house by Mu Jiawang’s loud voice. Her eldest grandson sounded urgent, and she hurried out into the yard, unsure what had happened.

“Grandma, Mother says you need to ask Uncle next door to help—go into the mountains to bring someone back!” Mu Jiawang came running, panting heavily.

Thinking something had happened to her own family, Madam Mu asked in alarm, “What is it? Who’s hurt? Did someone fall?”

Mu Jiawang shook his head. “It’s an old man we don’t know, badly hurt and hard to move. Mother told you to borrow a cart from Uncle next door.”

Mother had told him not to explain anything else for now, so he hadn’t mentioned more.

Hearing it was a matter of life and death, Madam Mu didn’t waste time. She quickly went to the neighbor’s to borrow a cart. That family, upon hearing someone in the mountains was injured, immediately took the cart and followed Mu Jiawang back.

When they reached the spot, Zhang-shi only said that Xie Wang was a distant relative from her mother’s side, a merchant who’d earned some money but had no children, and had come to see his niece. On the way, he’d been attacked by bandits.

Seeing the old man was dressed unlike mountain folk and did indeed look as though he’d been through an ordeal, the neighbor suspected nothing and helped lift him onto the cart, pushing him all the way to the Mu home.

Zhang-shi thanked the neighbor repeatedly before settling the old man in bed. Then she shut the courtyard gate and quietly told Madam Mu what had happened that day.

Zhang-shi was uneasy. “Mother, I didn’t discuss it with you before giving him that ginseng. It was my decision alone, and I was wrong.”

That ginseng was worth real silver, and if they waited until the old man passed away, they could still claim the generous wealth he’d promised. The money could have brought the Mu family an immediately comfortable life.

But now the ginseng was gone, the money too, and whether Xiaobao’s illness could truly be cured was still uncertain.

Madam Mu patted her hand. “I know what you were thinking. From what you’ve said, the ginseng was found by Xiaobao, and this old man was also discovered by Xiaobao. Clearly, this is Xiaobao’s blessing. Maybe Heaven sent him to cure our boy’s illness.”

Zhang-shi’s tears fell at once.

Her own life had not been easy—her mother died early, her stepmother treated her poorly, and when she reached marrying age, she wasn’t even given a proper bridal quilt. She’d carried her own small bundle to marry into the widow-and-orphan Mu family.

The Mu family was poor—so poor they had to ration their food.

But the people were good. Her mother-in-law was kindhearted, her husband diligent and caring.

She had never had any complaints.

Now the family’s life was slowly improving, her only worry was Xiaobao—afraid that one day, without warning, her well-behaved little boy might be gone.

Sometimes she’d wake in the night, look at Xiaobao sleeping quietly beside her, and be gripped with fear. If she had really hardened her heart and abandoned him back then, she didn’t dare imagine how much the child would have suffered.

Fortunately, though he’d been sickly from birth, they had managed to raise him to the age of three, and his health now seemed much better than before.

If this Elder Xie could truly cure him, it would be Heaven’s blessing indeed!

Following Xie’s instructions, Zhang-shi sliced the century-old ginseng into thin pieces, having Madam Mu give him one to hold in his mouth every hour. Then, taking the pouch of silver and the prescription Xie had written, she went alone to the county pharmacy to buy medicine.

When Mu Dazhu came home that night and heard the story, the usually silent man said nothing—he simply took over the task of going to the county for medicine.

Elder Xie ended up living at the Mu house for half a month. During this time, the three brothers’ room was given to him, while Mu Xing stayed with Madam Mu, and Mu Jiawang and Mu Jiafeng squeezed in with their parents.

Half a month later, Xie Wang could get out of bed.

With no family ties and injuries that would take a year or more to heal, he decided that though the place was poor, the villagers were honest and the scenery was good. So he spent money to have a small house built in the village and settled there.

Mu Xing then began formally following him.

At first, Xie taught Mu Xing simply to repay the Mu family’s kindness by nursing the boy’s health. But the more time he spent with the child, the more he realized his extraordinary natural intelligence—whatever he learned, he grasped instantly.

Having reached his seventies with no worthy successor—not for lack of offers, but because he looked down on mediocrity—he never expected to find such a rare jade so close to his grave.

He developed a true desire to preserve this talent, and while tending to Mu Xing’s health, asked if the boy would be willing to take him as his master.

How could Mu Xing refuse?

The more he interacted with Elder Xie, the more he realized the man was unfathomable—skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, medicine, and the arts of the five elements and eight trigrams—everything handled with effortless ease.

Not to mention, Mu Xing also knew that this Elder Xie was a master of martial arts.

Someone like that—if not for fate—he could have lived in Dazhuang Village his whole life and never encountered such a person.

The Mu family, of course, had no objections: if nothing else, the fact that Xie Wang was a learned man already made him, in their eyes, an extraordinary figure.

After a simple disciple ceremony, Mu Xing began studying under Xie Wang.

From the day Mu Xing was born until now, Mu Xiaobao’s life had completely changed.

*

In the blink of an eye, five years passed.

Eight-year-old Mu Xing had grown into a slender young boy.

His features were exquisitely fine, his whole demeanor scholarly. Aside from being a shade paler than most, anyone who saw him would praise him as a refined, handsome young gentleman.

Every time the people of Dazhuang Village saw him, they would sigh with envy, saying the Mu family must have burned high incense at their ancestral tombs—how else could a family of rough folk produce such a beautiful son?

Xie Wang stood in the courtyard with his hands clasped behind his back. Five years had passed, yet his outward appearance was unchanged.

Mu Xing came in from outside holding a few apricot branches, placing them into a vase.

His master was a refined man—living in the countryside had not dulled his taste for elegance. Mu Xing rather liked this attitude toward enjoying life.

After arranging the flowers, he walked over to Xie Wang and said happily, “Master, I’ve already broken through to the fourth layer of the Xiaoyao Heart Sutra!”

Even knowing how gifted the boy was, Xie Wang was startled by this, then sighed—this child seemed born for the Xiaoyao path.

The word Xiaoyao—Free and Unfettered—already encompassed the essence of their sect’s heart method: in harmony with the workings of heaven and earth, true to one’s own heart.

His little disciple had a pure, childlike heart by nature, with a certain affinity for the natural world. More than once, Xie Wang had noticed wild creatures in the mountains approaching Mu Xing of their own accord.

In practicing the sect’s inner method, he encountered almost no bottlenecks at all.

While cultivating high-level martial arts to strengthen his foundation, he also took medicinal baths every three days. After persisting for five years, when Xie Wang took his pulse again, he no longer wore the look of “I’m worried my fine disciple might not wake up tomorrow.”

“Very good.” Xie Wang patted Mu Xing’s head. “Xing’er, with your current body, as long as you keep practicing the Xiaoyao Heart Sutra properly, your lifespan should be no different from an ordinary person’s. But you must still take care of your health—avoid extreme joy or grief.”

He never avoided discussing such things with Mu Xing, nor did he tell comforting lies just because the boy was young.

Mu Xing nodded. “Your disciple understands.”

The name “Mu Xing” was also given by Xie Wang.

He said that in the Xiaoyao sect’s generational order, Mu Xing’s generation fell under the character “Xing,” though since he didn’t intend to take more disciples, he simply gave the boy this name outright.

Once Mu Xing’s health began improving day by day, the Mu family regarded Elder Xie as though he were an immortal. And since it was natural for a master to name his disciple, they had no objections at all.

“By the way, Master, my eldest brother is getting married the day after tomorrow. He wants to invite you to the wedding banquet.”

Xie Wang waved a hand. “The wedding gift is already in the main hall—deliver it for me. I won’t be going.”

Mu Xing wasn’t surprised. His master was a lofty figure, and lofty figures always had their quirks.

Xie Wang’s temperament was a bit eccentric. He adored Mu Xing’s talent, treasured this disciple like a jewel, and would have gladly given his life for him.

But he disliked noise and “worldly folk.” Aside from the Mu family, whom he owed for saving his life, he had no wish to meet anyone else in the village. On holidays and festivals, he would send the family generous gifts. While nursing Mu Xing’s health, he had gone through all kinds of herbs and wild game from the mountains, taking only the essence and letting Mu Dazhu sell the rest.

Even so, he wasn’t particularly close to the Mu family.

Especially with Mu Xing’s older siblings—Xie had tried teaching them for a few days out of gratitude, only to confirm that his little disciple was the only “mutation” in the family. Compared to Mu Xing’s aptitude, calling the others “dullards” would have been a compliment.

Utterly unworkable material!

Fortunately, the others weren’t inclined toward scholarly learning anyway, and studying under Xie was pure torture for them. After barely learning some characters and basic skills for fitness, they themselves said they didn’t want to continue.

Now, at fifteen, Mu Jiawang was already an accountant in the county, married to the daughter of a restaurant owner.

Mu Jiajia had more interest in medicine, but Xie only taught prodigies who could grasp things instantly. Every time Mu Xing went home, he would break down the basics for her bit by bit. She wasn’t amazing, but could now handle common illnesses on her own.

Mu Jiafeng loved martial arts and had some talent, but Xie’s teachings were too profound for him to understand. At ten, he had joined a martial school in town—a decent path for him.

These days, when people mentioned the Mu family, Dazhuang Village was full of envy, saying every child had turned out well and that Mu Dazhu and his wife were blessed.

The only one unhappy was the light orb.

In recent years, it had grown much smarter, no longer saying the kind of things that instantly put Mu Xing off. But Mu Xing could still hear in its tone that his current life was not what it wanted for him.

That day, Mu Xing was once again pulled into a dream by the light orb.

It said to him, “The young master of the Marquis’s household fell into the water yesterday. The whole household is in a panic—they say the marchioness cried for an entire day.”

By now, Mu Xing knew that aside from entering his dreams, the light orb could do nothing to him at all, and he was no longer afraid of it.

He responded casually, “Oh? That’s nice.”

The light orb: “…”

Unwilling to give up, it said, “Think about it—if that young master just gets a fever and they worry so much, then if she knew her real son had been frail since birth, with several fevers nearly taking his life, how guilty would she feel?”

Mu Xing looked at it sincerely. “Be direct. Get to the point.”

The light orb: “…”

It spoke stiffly, “Congratulations. The Marquis’s household has discovered the child was switched back then and has already traced the Mu family’s identity. You’re about to live a life of wealth and luxury.”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Mu Xing squatted there a bit too long, and Mu Jiafeng, “on orders” to watch his little brother, called over: “Xiaobao, what are you doing? Are you tired?”

Mu Xing was almost certain it was ginseng, but Mu Xiaobao couldn’t possibly recognize it.

So he put on a very happy face and shouted loudly, “Mother, Big Brother, Second Sister, Third Brother, this flower is so pretty!”

Zhang-shi was chopping firewood with a hatchet. She smiled when she heard him. “Pretty? Then Xiaobao should pick it and wear it on your head.”

Mu Jiafeng grinned. “Xiaobao looks like a little girl—he’d definitely look good with a flower.”

Mu Xing: “…”

Third Brother, don’t blame me for always setting you up—just with a mouth like that, Mother’s right, you deserve a beating!

He thought for a moment, then picked the flower and ran straight to Zhang-shi, holding it up. “For Mother to wear.”

Zhang-shi wiped her sweat and turned with a smile. “Oh my, Xiaobao even knows to pick flowers for Mother to wear… Huh?”

The flower seemed familiar, though she couldn’t place it for the moment.

She took it from Mu Xing and looked at it carefully, but didn’t recognize it as a ginseng flower—happily tucking it into her hair.

Mu Xing waited hopefully for a while, but when she simply wore it, he was dumbfounded.

He hadn’t expected that Zhang-shi wouldn’t recognize a ginseng flower.

He’d have to think of another way.

He went over to Mu Jiafeng, who was gathering sticks, and helped him.

Since it wasn’t safe for small children to use knives, Mu Jiafeng and Mu Jiajia picked smaller branches, stacking and bundling them for later use.

Listening to the two chatter excitedly about how the wild fruit in the mountains would ripen soon and how tasty it would be, Mu Xing suddenly had an idea.

“Second Sister, are wild fruits tasty?”

“Of course they are!” Mu Jiajia replied.

Mu Xing clapped. “Then we can pick lots and have Father sell them for money!”

“Sell them?” Jiajia scratched her head. “You can’t sell them.”

“Why not?” Mu Xing tilted his head like a curious child.

Jiajia didn’t really know the reason and made something up. “You just can’t. They’re only for picking and eating yourself. If you could sell them, Father would have done it already.”

Mu Xing then ran over to Zhang-shi and asked, “Mother, why can’t wild fruits be sold for money?”

She laughed. “Because they aren’t worth much.”

“Then what is worth money? Let’s go pick that!” Mu Xing said with innocent eagerness.

Amused, Zhang-shi replied, “What’s worth money? Mountain herbs are worth money, but they’re hard to find. A few years ago, the Wu family in our village struck it rich when they dug up a ginseng root. That thing is really valuable! But ginseng isn’t so easy to come by…”

She trailed off, suddenly freezing mid-sentence.

Suppressing her excitement, she quickly put down her hatchet, pulled the flower from her hair, and examined it closely.

She had thought it looked familiar. When the Wu family found their ginseng, they’d proudly shown it off to the whole village, and everyone had gone to see what the legendary plant looked like.

This flower—wasn’t it exactly the same as the one she’d seen back then?

Her breath quickened. “Xiaobao, where did you pick this flower?”

Relieved, Mu Xing pointed to the spot where he’d been earlier. “Over there.”

With an innocent look, he asked, “Mother, do you want to pick more flowers? But I looked—there’s only this one.”

She stroked his little cheek, forcing herself to stay calm. “Xiaobao, take Mother to see.”

Mu Xing led her back to the spot, and the more Zhang-shi looked, the more excited she became.

These leaves—they were exactly the same as the ones she’d seen at the Wu family’s house.

She took a deep breath and called to her eldest son: “Jiawang, bring me your hatchet.”

Puzzled, Mu Jiawang quickly ran over.

Not knowing the exact position or depth of the root, Zhang-shi began digging a wide circle around it, slowly working her way down.

The children all gathered around, asking, “Mother, what are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, just kept carefully digging—more meticulously than she’d ever turned soil in her life.

Layer after layer of earth was removed, until at last, between the clumps of dirt, a patch of white came into view…

*

Zhang-shi’s heart was pounding. Forget chopping firewood—she stuffed the treasure into her basket, covered it with wild vegetables, and hurried home with the children.

Along the way, she repeatedly told them not to tell anyone what had just happened.

Mu Xing was now on Mu Jiawang’s back—Zhang-shi was in a hurry, and his little legs couldn’t keep up.

Halfway home, Mu Xing’s nose twitched.

There was the scent of blood.

It was faint—if his senses hadn’t been getting sharper lately, he might not have noticed at all.

He focused, and then heard a faint groan.

A person.

Judging from the smell and the sound, probably someone injured.

Mu Xing tugged at Mu Jiawang’s clothes. “Big Brother, I think I just heard someone calling for help.”

Mu Jiawang looked puzzled. “Really?”

He stopped to listen carefully. “I don’t hear anything—you must’ve imagined it.”

Mu Xing shook his head firmly. “I heard it. It’s over there.”

He pointed toward a patch of tangled woods to the left of the mountain path.

Seeing them stop, Zhang-shi turned back and asked what was going on.

Mu Jiawang said, “Little Brother says he heard someone calling for help over there.”

Zhang-shi hesitated.

She wanted to hurry home without delay, but hearing someone might be calling for help—if someone was in trouble, she couldn’t just ignore it.

She asked Mu Xing, “Xiaobao, are you sure you heard it?”

Mu Xing nodded.

She asked where, and Mu Xing pointed to the left.

Zhang-shi put down the basket on her back, instructed the eldest, Mu Jiawang, to watch over the others carefully and not let them wander, then picked up her hatchet and headed in the direction Mu Xing had indicated.

Not long after, Mu Xing saw Zhang-shi emerge from the woods carrying an elderly man with graying hair on her back.

The old man’s clothes were stained with blood, and he appeared to have fainted.

Mu Xing glanced at the fabric of the old man’s clothing—it was clearly not something worn by mountain farmers.

Zhang-shi obviously realized this as well. “I don’t know where this elder is from… if I just take him back to the village without thinking…”

The man lying on the ground suddenly coughed twice, waking from unconsciousness.

Though his age was advanced, his eyes were bright and piercingly sharp.

Looking at the village woman and the children in front of him, then at the fact that his position had changed from where he’d fallen, Xie Wang gave a weak smile. “Xie thanks this madam for her help.”

Zhang-shi had never in her life been called “madam” before, and was suddenly flustered. “Elder, you’re too polite.”

Xie Wang coughed twice more, and Zhang-shi took some water from her basket for him.

He thanked her, took two sips, then said, “Xie is gravely wounded. Unless there is some rare medicine to sustain my life, I will certainly die within the hour.”

At the words “rare medicine,” Zhang-shi’s palm involuntarily clenched.

Xie Wang thought for a moment, then pulled out a money pouch and removed a piece of white jade from his waist, handing them to her. “Madam is kindhearted—please, return here in an hour. If I have passed by then, I ask that you bury me, so that I am not left to rot in the wilderness. Here are several dozen taels of silver; the jade pendant is worth a hundred gold—take them as my thanks.”

When Zhang-shi heard “several dozen taels of silver” and “a hundred gold,” she was stunned.

She looked at the items on the ground, not daring to touch them.

Even when the Wu family sold their ginseng back then, she didn’t think it had fetched that much money.

Mu Xing, seeing her frozen in place, tugged at her clothing. “Mother…”

He was just about to say something when his vision suddenly went black, and his consciousness was pulled once more into that pitch-dark place by the strange ball of light.

Mu Xing felt a bit annoyed, but the light ball was even more agitated than he was.

“Why has the Mu family’s fate changed? And who is this old man?”

The light flickered rapidly, as if unable to comprehend. “Why is everything different?”

It asked, “Mu Xing, why aren’t you following the path I told you? What’s the point of struggling through life in the Mu family? The marquis’s household is where you belong.”

Mu Xing lowered his gaze. “I think the Mu family is quite good. Life’s getting better now—we live in peace and happiness.”

It’s exactly because life is getting better that it’s wrong! the light screamed inwardly.

It wanted to do something to Mu Xing, but aside from speaking, it could do nothing at all.

Mu Xing’s mind cleared, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself in Zhang-shi’s arms.

The elderly man, seemingly close to death, was straining to press his fingers against Mu Xing’s pulse.

His voice was filled with both astonishment and regret. “This young one’s bones are one in ten thousand—if he could train in martial arts, he would surely be a talent of extraordinary brilliance. But alas, his constitution is weak from birth, bearing the mark of an early death…”

He shook his head. “If Xie could live a few more years, I would be interested to see if it could be nursed back to health. Unfortunately…”

But Zhang-shi’s eyes suddenly lit up.

She asked urgently, “Elder Xie, are you saying there is a way to save Xiaobao’s body?”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

“Xiaobao, why aren’t you eating? No appetite?”

Mu Xing looked up and saw everyone watching him with concern.

He shook his head, pushed away those inexplicable thoughts, and smiled. “No, it smells great.”

Then he said seriously, “Next time, Mother, don’t make something just for me. Xiaobao will eat with you all.”

Zhang-shi, seeing her youngest son was fine, relaxed. She didn’t take his words seriously, and instead spoke in the coaxing tone used for children: “Xiaobao is still young. Children have to eat better so they can grow up quickly. When you’re grown, there won’t be any rabbit legs for you.”

Liar. Sister Jiajia didn’t have any when she was little either, Mu Xing thought to himself.

Then, as soon as the thought formed, he realized his thinking had just been exactly like that of a three-year-old.

Startled, he gave a small shiver, then shook his little head to throw away all those strange ideas.

Don’t overthink it. Since I’m Mu Xiaobao now, I’ll just be Mu Xiaobao.

If the whole family wants to give me special treatment, then I’ll just find a way to make life better for everyone, so we can all eat delicious food.

Outside, the big yellow dog suddenly started barking. Right after came the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice.

“Mother, Xinglan, I’m back.”

Zhang-shi had just stood up when two people came in from outside—it was Mu Dazhu and the eldest son, Mu Jiawang.

“Look what I brought you.” Mu Dazhu carefully pulled an oiled paper package from his chest, opened it, and set it on the table.

Mu Jiafeng craned his neck to see, then shouted, “It’s braised pork!”

“That’s right—braised pork. I kept it in my coat, so it’s still warm. Come eat! Hm? What’s that smell? So fragrant.” Only then did Mu Dazhu notice the aroma filling the room.

“It’s the rabbit Xiaobao caught!” Mu Jiajia announced first.

Mu Xing: “…”

That made his face flush. He explained, “It was a rabbit that killed itself.”

But Mu Dazhu acted as though he hadn’t heard, loudly praising, “Wow, Xiaobao is amazing—so young and already catching rabbits.”

Mu Xing: “…”

I think, with the way you’re raising me, if I weren’t a reincarnated soul, I’d probably end up spoiled into a little tyrant.

That night, Zhang-shi washed his hands and face, then laid him in bed with a small quilt over his belly.

The Mu family had three rooms—Mu Dazhu and his wife in one, Mu Jiajia with Madam Mu in another, and the three brothers in the last.

Before, Mu Xing had always slept with his parents, but once he turned three, he had firmly insisted on sleeping with his brothers—even going so far as to act cute and claim he was already a grown man.

Zhang-shi had been both worried and amused, secretly checking on him several times in the night before finally agreeing.

In ancient times, there was little to do at night, and oil lamps had to be saved, so people generally went to bed as soon as it got dark.

Mu Xing lay on his bed, wide-eyed, thinking.

For the first three years, he had been too young and often ill. The family had watched him like a precious jewel, and he’d barely stepped out of the house.

But since turning three, he could feel his body was much better.

The heavy weakness had eased greatly, and the heightened senses he’d had in his past life after returning to Xiaoxi Village were slowly coming back.

At the moment, he could even hear from the next room—Mu Jiajia complaining she was hot, Madam Mu fanning her while coaxing her to sleep.

Listening for a while, drowsiness washed over him.

Half-asleep, he thought: Now that I’m much better, tomorrow I can go with Mother into the mountains to see if there’s anything good. I heard that a few years ago, someone in the village dug up an old ginseng root there and sold it for enough to buy a house in town.

*

The next day, Zhang-shi woke him, and he rubbed his eyes while dressing himself, then was handed a warm cloth.

In this weather, everyone else in the family used cold water from the vat to splash their faces. Only Mu Xing had Zhang-shi boil a bit of hot water while making breakfast, so he could wash up with it.

After washing, it was almost time to eat.

As usual, he had a bowl of easy-to-digest white porridge, while everyone else had filling cornbread, with Zhang-shi’s homemade pickles as the side dish.

Mu Xing listened as Mu Dazhu and Zhang-shi talked about the fields—poor harvests, high taxes, and how hard life was for the farmers.

After drinking half his porridge, he asked, “Are Father and Mother going into the mountains today?”

Mu Dazhu said, “Yes.”

Usually, Zhang-shi would search the outer mountain slopes for wild vegetables and fruits, gather firewood, and cut some grass to feed their most valuable hens.

Mu Dazhu and the other strong men in the village would go deep into the mountains to try their luck at hunting something good to sell for extra income.

Mu Jiawang would sometimes go out with Zhang-shi as well, to help a little.

Mu Xing said, “I want to go with Mother too.”

He knew well that where Mu Dazhu went was too dangerous for him, but the places Zhang-shi visited were safe enough.

As expected, Zhang-shi refused right away. “Xiaobao’s still too little. Wait until you’re older to go with Mother.”

Mu Xing knew the usual approach wouldn’t work.

He silently berated himself, cast aside any sense of shame, then lifted his head. His big eyes glistened as he looked pitiful: “But Third Brother said that when he was my age, he was already running all over the mountains with no clothes on.”

Mu Jiafeng: “???”

He looked at his little brother in confusion, trying to remember—Did I ever say something like that?

Before he could figure it out, his mother’s sharp gaze swept over, sending a chill down his back.

I’m done for!

Zhang-shi shot this mischievous monkey a fierce glare. But when she turned to Mu Xing, her tone softened greatly. “Xiaobao mustn’t copy your third brother—he’s been asking for a beating since he was little.”

Mu Jiafeng: “…”

Mu Xing didn’t speak, just looked up at Zhang-shi with big, hopeful eyes.

Faced with such an obedient child staring at you with such longing—who could resist?

Certainly not Zhang-shi.

Thinking the mountains would be cooler than home, she gave in. “Alright, after breakfast you can come with Mother. But let’s agree—no running off. If you get tired or feel unwell, you must tell me, no forcing yourself.”

Mu Xing nodded quickly.

He finished his porridge in no time, even conscientiously placing the bowl on the stove. Madam Mu, seeing this eager little look, felt both joy and a pang of sadness: joy because Mu Xing’s impatient cuteness was irresistible, and sadness because the reason he was so eager was that, due to his health, he’d hardly ever stepped outside the house.

Mu Xing followed Zhang-shi and his three older siblings into the mountains.

At first, he’d only come along hoping he might find something valuable—much like how modern people buy lottery tickets always imagining they’ll win.

That hopeful mindset was there, but he hadn’t truly expected much.

Yet now, looking at the bright red flower before him, he fell silent.

In his past life, living alone, he’d raised many flowers and plants, and knew quite a bit about them.

This… this was a ginseng flower, wasn’t it?

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

He stood up and shouted toward the creek, “Second Sister, Third Brother!”

In the water, Mu Jiajia and Mu Jiafeng heard his voice and quickly ran out, shaking the water off their hands as they came over.

“Xiaobao, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Seven-year-old Mu Jiajia reached out to touch her little brother’s forehead, only relaxing when she felt no fever.

When Mu Xing was born, Mu Jiajia was already four years old and old enough to remember things.

In her memory, this little brother was different from everyone else in the family—always small and skinny, and falling sick several times a year.

She had seen their mother quietly crying while holding him, and had seen him in high fever, unconscious no matter how they called him.

So from a young age, Mu Jiajia knew: this little brother was fragile and needed careful protection.

Normally, Zhang shi (Madam Zhang) never dared let Mu Xing go out in the heat or cold. Today, he’d been too restless at home, and after repeatedly promising that he’d sit only under the shade of the tree and not run into the sun, she finally allowed him to come out with his siblings.

Mu Xing truly wasn’t feeling hot—his body was naturally cold. In winter, he couldn’t stand even a bit of wind, but in summer he didn’t mind the heat much.

Hearing Mu Jiajia’s concern, Mu Xing obediently shook his head.

“Are you tired? Third Brother will carry you home!” Mu Jiafeng said, crouching down.

He was six this year—mischievous enough to get their mother chasing him with a stick, but he never messed with Mu Xing.

Not because he was afraid, but because he couldn’t bear to.

Xiaobao was different from the rest of them—white-skinned and delicate from birth, quiet and refined, and unlike that annoying Jiajia, who was always picking fights with him.

Mostly—it was because he was good-looking!

Mu Jiafeng really liked this little brother.

Mu Xing looked at his two siblings.

That ball of light was always telling him how luxurious life in the marquis’s household was and how poor the Mu family was. But in Mu Xing’s eyes, life here wasn’t so unbearable.

Yes, the Mu family was poor, but they were honest people. The fields weren’t very productive, Mu Dazhu hunted in the mountains, Zhang shi did odd jobs in town, and Madam Mu took embroidery work.

The children, though a bit naughty, were sensible.

And they had never treated him badly—Mu Xing had always enjoyed the best treatment in the family.

He would never forget that when he was born, it was the family’s poorest time. There was almost no rice, Zhang shi had no milk, and Madam Mu had borrowed a sack of rice from her family. Every day she cooked porridge for Zhang shi and fed rice soup to Mu Xing.

The rest of the family only had hard, coarse cornbread to gnaw on. Mu Jiafeng and Mu Jiajia would swallow their saliva at the smell of rice but never made a fuss—because their mother was “ill” and the kitten-like little brother couldn’t have his food taken away.

Mu Xing patted his third brother’s shoulder. Mu Jiafeng turned around curiously, only to see his little brother pointing to the back of the tree trunk.

On the other side of the trunk lay a big, fat rabbit, motionless.

Mu Jiafeng: “!”

His eyes lit up instantly!

He grabbed Mu Xing and whispered excitedly, “What happened with this rabbit?”

Mu Xing whispered back, “I was just sitting here, and it ran over by itself, crashed into the tree, and died.”

“There’s luck like this?” Mu Jiajia clapped happily. “Let’s take it home quick—we’ll have meat for dinner!”

Thinking of meat, she couldn’t help swallowing.

Mu Jiafeng quickly added, “Right! Let’s hurry and take it home before anyone sees. If that annoying Liu Dapeng spots it, he’ll definitely try to steal it from us!”

Mu Jiajia hugged the big rabbit tightly, while Mu Jiafeng picked up a large straw hat from the ground and put it on Mu Xing’s head. After confirming again that Mu Xing didn’t want to be carried, he took his hand, and the three of them went home together.

That day there was a celebration in the neighboring village, so Mu Dazhu had taken the eldest son, Mu Jiawang, to help out, and Zhang shi had gone to the back mountain to dig wild vegetables. Only Madam Mu was home.

Seeing the three return, Madam Mu smiled. “Back so soon?”

Mu Xing, as usual, was the focus of concern. “Xiaobao, are you hot? Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

Mu Xing shook his head. “Grandma, Xiaobao isn’t hot and doesn’t feel unwell.”

Mu Jiajia couldn’t hold back any longer. “Grandma, don’t you see what I’m holding?”

Of course Madam Mu saw it—what could a little girl hug so tightly except something valuable? But for a moment she couldn’t tell what it was.

She asked, “What are you holding, Jiajia?”

Unable to contain herself, Mu Jiajia loosened her grip. She failed to catch it, and the rabbit fell to the ground with a thud.

Madam Mu froze. “Where did this come from?”

Mu Jiafeng eagerly told the story of Mu Xing’s encounter, complete with dramatic detail.

He grinned. “I’ve never seen a rabbit kill itself before! Xiaobao’s amazing.”

Madam Mu, hearing this, was just as overjoyed. She stroked Mu Xing’s hair with a smile. “Yes, Xiaobao’s the best.”

Mu Jiafeng was already shouting, “Grandma, let’s have rabbit meat tonight!”

Mu Jiajia nodded like a pecking chick. “Rabbit meat!”

Madam Mu agreed. “Alright, rabbit meat tonight.”

Efficient as ever, Madam Mu had water boiling and the rabbit cleaned by the time Zhang-shi returned from the mountain.

Mu Jiafeng once again recounted the rabbit’s origin in vivid detail.

Zhang-shi looked at Mu Xing and smiled. “See? Our Xiaobao is blessed. Ever since he was born, our days have been better than before.”

It was the truth—back then, the Mu family had been truly poor, the kind of poor where they couldn’t even put food on the table.

Now, though still living frugally, there was no problem feeding everyone until full, and they could even have meat from time to time—mainly because Mu Dazhu had been bringing home more and more game from the mountains.

By coincidence, Zhang-shi had dug up half a basket of wild vegetables that day.

The fire was already lit, and the rice was steaming.

The rabbit was extremely plump. Zhang-shi couldn’t bear to cook it all at once. She took half—one leg and a few chunks of meat—and simmered them in a small pot. The rest she chopped into small cubes, added chili and garlic, and stir-fried them with wild vegetable roots into a heaping plate.

A mouthwatering aroma filled the air.

As dusk approached, the family sat down to dinner.

One plate of rabbit meat, one plate of stir-fried greens—that was the day’s meal.

Only in front of Mu Xing was there an extra bowl—a bowl of rich rabbit soup, with a plump rabbit leg inside.

The meat had been stewed until it was falling-apart tender; at the touch of chopsticks, pieces would tremble and fall away.

Looking closer, Mu Xing saw that only his bowl was filled with pure white rice. Everyone else’s bowl had not just rice, but also cornbread that had been steamed along with it.

This blatant “special treatment” was something the whole family acted as though they didn’t even notice.

Mu Xing stayed silent.

It wasn’t the first or second time he’d been treated like this.

This family had been raising him like a treasured jewel since he was born, giving him the best of everything. He wondered—if they knew he wasn’t their biological child, how would they feel?

Then his thoughts turned to the little beggar from his dream.

If back then the Mu family hadn’t feared he wouldn’t survive and thrown him away, would he have avoided the kind of misery he’d lived through in that dream?

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

ARC 2: Picking Up a Cub Who Turns Out to Be the Future Emperor

“Xinglan, this child won’t survive.”

“But… if we don’t do anything, he’ll die right away.”

“Even if we do, he won’t live much longer. Didn’t you hear what the old abbot said? Even with careful care, this body won’t last long. And more importantly, we really can’t afford another mouth to feed. Sigh.”

“…”

Then came the sound of quiet sobbing.

Mu Xing couldn’t open his eyes, his body heavy. It took a long while before he slowly became aware.

In his last life, he had lived freely and comfortably, dying of old age without much suffering. Was this now reincarnation after death?

But if reincarnation was real, wasn’t he supposed to drink Meng Po’s soup?

Still groggy with thought, he suddenly felt himself being lifted up.

Someone kissed his face, and hot tears fell onto his forehead.

“Child, don’t blame your mother for being heartless. This may just be your fate.”

Mu Xing was shocked. Remembering the conversation from earlier, these two were likely his parents in this life—and now, because of his weak health, they seemed about to abandon him.

A newborn baby, already with a congenital illness—if abandoned, he would most likely die.

Was he really going to live only this short moment in his second chance at life?

No—he couldn’t just sit and wait for death.

Gathering all his strength, he managed to lift one tiny hand, groped until he found the hand holding him, and gripped a finger tightly.

He had to try—after all, from their voices, they clearly didn’t truly want to give him up.

The person holding him trembled.

“Zhuzi Ge (Brother Zhuzi), look how close this child is to me, how well-behaved he is. We can’t be so cruel.”

“But…”

“No buts.” Zhang Xinglan wiped away her tears, her voice firm. “It’s just one more mouth to feed. We’ll tighten our belts. I’ll dig more wild vegetables in the mountains—somehow we’ll manage.”

He was, after all, their own flesh and blood. Mu Dazhu also couldn’t bear it. Thinking that the child might not live long anyway, he sighed.

“Alright. Give him to me. Let’s go home.”

Hearing this, Mu Xing finally relaxed. The strength he’d been holding on to ebbed away, and he quickly sank into a heavy sleep.

That sleep brought a long dream.

In the dream, poor farmer Mu Dazhu had gone into the mountains to hunt something for his heavily pregnant wife. Three days passed with no return. His wife, Zhang, with her nine-month belly, went to look for him.

On the road, a fast-moving convoy startled her into premature labor.

Coincidentally, a noblewoman in that convoy was also about to give birth, so she took Zhang along to a nearby temple to deliver.

An evil servant secretly swapped the newborns.

The noblewoman left with the Mu family’s child. When Zhang woke up, the temple’s abbot—versed in medicine—told her that the baby she had given birth to was born with a grave weakness and would be extremely difficult to raise.

For a family already struggling to feed themselves, a healthy child could grow up to help with work in a few years, but a sickly child doomed to die young would only bring heartbreak.

The Mu couple abandoned the baby outside, wiping their tears as they left.

That frail child was picked up by an old beggar, who fed him irregularly, yet he miraculously survived.

Fifteen years later, the beggar boy was begging in the capital when he offended a rich young master and was beaten half to death—right as the carriage of the Marquis of Cheng’en passed by.

A long-buried secret came to light: the beggar boy was the real young master of the marquis’s household.

He should have grown up in wealth and honor, yet he had endured nothing but hardship.

The boy thought he had finally found his family and could live well. But the false young master was deeply favored at home, chosen as the crown prince’s study companion—worlds apart from the real one.

Everyone in the Marquis’s household looked down on the newly returned son, even his own parents.

His biological father refused to give him a name or let him reclaim the false young master’s position, telling others he was merely an illegitimate child.

Already frail from birth and weakened by years of suffering, the boy’s health quickly failed, and he died soon after.

No one in the family mourned him. Instead, they cursed him as inauspicious, wishing he had never appeared.

*

Mu Xing slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a thick blue cloth canopy. He was half-held against a warm, soft body.

He moved slightly, and the small motion was noticed. A delighted woman’s voice came from above: “The little one’s awake.”

Footsteps pattered over, and a child’s clear voice shouted excitedly about wanting to see their little brother.

Mu Xing felt himself lifted and met three children’s faces—too fleeting to make out clearly, except that they were sallow and thin.

“Alright, don’t startle the baby or your mother.” An older woman’s voice entered, speaking with the younger one for a bit.

Mu Xing, still weak, gave a small, delicate yawn and drifted back to sleep.

“This child is truly handsome,” said Zhang Xinglan’s mother-in-law, Madam Mu, as she looked affectionately at the baby’s sleeping face.

Hearing this, Zhang glanced at her youngest son’s face and thought it was true.

Though as small and weak as a kitten, he was born fair-skinned and clean-featured, with looks even finer than the plump doll in a New Year’s picture.

“It’s just a pity…” Zhang thought of the abbot’s words, and her eyes instantly reddened.

“Don’t cry—you’ll harm your health in the long run,” Madam Mu said sternly. “Don’t keep sobbing. I think our little one looks perfectly fine. We’ll raise him well. With a newborn, who can say for certain what the future holds?”

“Mm, I’ll listen to you, Mother.”

The little Mu Xing they were talking about wasn’t actually asleep at the moment.

His consciousness had sunk into a strange place.

It was pitch black—nothing could be seen.

Then, in the darkness, a point of light appeared. The light grew larger and larger, turning into a shapeless glowing sphere.

Mu Xing looked at it curiously. “Who are you?”

The ball of light said, “I’m here to help you.”

Mu Xing: “?”

The light said, “You saw that dream, didn’t you?”

“That wasn’t a dream—that was your life in this lifetime.”

Mu Xing froze. He had actually felt a faint doubt in his heart, because that dream had been far too vivid, far too detailed.

The light said, “You were supposed to be the noble young master of a marquis’s household, but instead you ended up a beggar, dying miserably of illness. Don’t you feel unwilling?”

Mu Xing thought for a moment. “But right now I’m not a little beggar—my mother brought me home.”

The light was momentarily choked, but pressed on stubbornly: “You can’t open your eyes yet, so you don’t know. The Mu family are farmers—extremely poor. Their house is made of packed yellow earth, and they can’t even afford full meals. Even if you’re not a beggar, you’ll still live a bitter, impoverished life.”

The light’s voice lowered, carrying a trace of temptation: “Meanwhile, that marquis’s wife has returned to the manor. The little young master there is the same age as you. He not only eats bird’s nest and all kinds of tonics at will—he even has seven or eight maids and wet nurses to look after him.”

“All of that should have been yours.”

Mu Xing looked at the light in puzzlement. “So?”

The light said, “So don’t you feel unwilling? I can help you.”

“Help me with what?”

“Help you return to the marquis’s household—help you take back what should rightfully be yours! How can a lowly farmer’s son shamelessly enjoy the riches and honor that belong to you?”

Mu Xing blinked at it. “You’re so worked up… don’t tell me—you’re the little beggar from my dream?”

The light immediately retorted, “How could that be? Hmph, I’d never be such a lowly creature.”

Mu Xing gave an “oh,” his face cold. “Then why are you so excited?”

The light, seeing him unmoved: “I’m angry on your behalf!”

Mu Xing’s expression said plainly Don’t try to pin this on me: “There’s really no need. I’m not angry—if you want to be, go ahead, but don’t blame me for it.”

The light: “…”

Seeing Mu Xing completely impervious, it grew frantic: “How can you be such a pushover? You’ve had your identity stolen and you don’t even care?”

Mu Xing calmly countered, “How can you be such a busybody? My identity was stolen—what does that have to do with you?”

The light: “…”

In the next instant, Mu Xing’s vision went black.

He had left that strange place.

That strange ball of light was definitely suspicious.

It seemed to be trying very hard to stir him into fighting, into seizing. But as Mu Xing had said—it was his own business, and this mysterious light was acting far too warm-hearted for no reason.

If it was “helping” him, what was it after? It didn’t exactly seem righteous.

And its methods were unpredictable—Mu Xing didn’t want any entanglement with it.

Besides—if what he saw in the dream was real, with the marquis’s household treating their own blood like a plague, he had no desire to go back.

*

Three years later.

Dazhuang Village.

It was midsummer, the sun blazing. A group of half-grown children were playing in the creek.

The creek was shallow, barely reaching the knees of the older children—safe enough that the adults didn’t bother watching them closely.

Under a large tree by the creek, a fair, tender-faced little boy sat quietly—this was now three-year-old Mu Xing.

His second sister and third brother were both playing in the water. Mu Xing, not truly a three-year-old in mind, found it hard to join in.

Besides, his health didn’t allow him to do such strenuous things.

He was idly scratching random lines in the dirt with a stick, while thinking about that strange ball of light.

In these three years, at first the light had come to him in his dreams every single day, showing him what the marquis’s young master ate, used, and how luxurious life in the manor was.

Compared to the Mu family’s poverty, it was a stark contrast—miserable by comparison.

But Mu Xing remained completely unmoved.

Perhaps discouraged, the ball of light now only came into his dreams once every several days.

Suddenly, a faint rustling reached his ears. Mu Xing looked over curiously—just in time to see a large, plump rabbit burst from the grass ahead, rushing straight at him—

Thump! It crashed into the tree trunk.

And lay still.

Mu Xing stared in surprise at the rabbit that had just killed itself by ramming into the tree.

“Waiting for rabbits at the stump,” he thought. “The ancients truly didn’t lie to me.”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

“Now, let’s welcome the popular group, MRC, to the stage!”

A small county town, a shabby, low-quality outdoor stage, a gaudy red-and-gold banner, the sparse applause from the audience, and passersby holding up their phones to film the “big stars.”

Chang Yiming and his two expressionless teammates walked up from one side of the stage.

He was no longer young, and his popularity had long faded to the point that young people nowadays would only look blank if they heard his name.

The three of them picked up microphones, put on forced smiles to greet the audience, sang two songs, and quickly left the stage.

Backstage, Chang Yiming looked at his two old teammates he hadn’t seen in a long time.

All three of them had gained quite a bit of weight, their appearances changed from what they once were. They exchanged brief greetings, then each sat off to the side, absorbed in their own phones—MRC had disbanded many years ago. After the group broke up, they each went their own way and had long since lost touch.

The only reason they hadn’t left yet was because there was still a banquet later. According to the contract, they had to show up, take a picture with the boss.

This kind of “side gig” was a common way for washed-up entertainers to make money.

Usually, Chang Yiming worked solo. At his age and with almost no popularity left, one such commercial performance could pay him twenty to thirty thousand yuan.

But this newly opened shop’s owner might have once been their fan; he invited all three and said that if they performed together, he would double the payment.

Now that they were all middle-aged with families to support, no one was going to turn down money.

They weren’t sitting in a hidden spot, and people passed by constantly, but few recognized them, and no one came up to take a photo.

After sitting for about half an hour, a young girl walked in. She looked at the three, hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

“Hello, are you MRC’s Chang Yiming?” the girl asked tentatively.

Today, she had seen people in her group chat saying there were celebrities performing in this mall—apparently a member of some long-ago group called MRC.

Her classmates hadn’t paid much attention, but she thought of something and rushed over.

Chang Yiming looked at the girl—she seemed about fourteen or fifteen, about the same age as his daughter.

With a gentle smile, he said, “I am.”

The girl’s eyes lit up instantly, and she said happily, “I’ve watched a lot of your videos online, and I’ve seen many of your performances.”

Chang Yiming was a little surprised, but also warmed: Did he actually still have such young fans?

The other two came over to greet her and even offered to take a photo with her.

She agreed.

After the photo, she cautiously asked, “I wanted to ask… do you have any contact with Brother Mu Xing?”

Looking at these three men clearly in their uncles’ age group, it was hard for her to believe they were of the same generation as Mu Xing.

The atmosphere went quiet.

Chang Yiming thought to himself, As expected.

He shook his head helplessly. “No, we haven’t been in touch for a long time.”

Hearing the answer, the girl’s expression was clearly disappointed, but she still politely thanked them before leaving.

Xu Zijia suddenly gave a cold laugh. “Mu Xing this, Mu Xing that—everyone only remembers Mu Xing. Even when people remember us a little, it’s thanks to him!”

He clearly hadn’t been doing well these past years, the wrinkles between his brows deep, his demeanor a little dark.

Chang Yiming, on the other hand, was much more at peace. His family life was happy, and years of commercial gigs had earned him a decent living. Though not as glamorous as in his peak, it was still better than most.

He said, “But you and I both have to admit—he really is someone worth young people liking.”

Xu Zijia shot him a glare but said nothing, kicked a chair, and walked off to the other room.

Xu Wen came over and said quietly, “You know, these past years I’ve often wondered… if Mu Xing hadn’t left MRC back then, what would things be like for us now?”

Chang Yiming was silent for a moment.

In the early years, he had wondered the same thing—often.

He imagined that if Mu Xing hadn’t quit, maybe they would have gone on to a dazzling, glorious path.

But now…

He shook his head. “Don’t think about it. It’s all in the past. Just live the life you have now.”

Xu Wen sighed. “Yeah.”

Then, in a lower voice, he said, “Actually, I’ve been using a secret account to watch his livestreams.”

Chang Yiming laughed. “What a coincidence, so do I. My daughter’s even a fan of his. She once asked me if I bullied her ‘Brother Xing’ when I was young. She doesn’t even believe we’re from the same generation.”

Xu Wen glanced at him, and seeing his calm and easy expression, he let go of his own awkwardness.

“I really envy him. His life looks like a fairy tale. And he looks like one too—you can just tell he has no worries.”

Chang Yiming said, “Yeah, he’s not like us.”

*

After that performance, Chang Yiming added Xu Wen on WeChat. They would chat from time to time and actually became pretty good friends.

Then one day, Mu Xing suddenly announced he would stop livestreaming—just like that, disappearing from the public eye.

That time, many people who didn’t know him well got their first taste of his terrifying influence.

No one had expected that an older streamer’s retirement would cause a bigger stir than even a top-tier idol quitting the industry.

Weibo crashed for hours, and the news stayed on the trending list for several days in a row.

And then, a year passed. Two years.

From time to time, a few netizens would happen to run into Mu Xing at some scenic spot, or see someone who looked like him. Whenever such news appeared, it would always shoot straight to the trending list.

Some fans pieced together from his past remarks and these scattered sightings that he seemed to be traveling long-term. They would wait at various famous spots, hoping to meet him just once.

It even became a running joke, called “Finding Mu Xing.”

Many more years passed.

Chang Yiming became a great-grandfather. His great-granddaughter could already speak.

One day, the official account of Xincheng County—by now with quite a large following—suddenly posted a message.

Mu Xing had passed away.

The post said he had no illness, passed peacefully, and seemed to have a premonition shortly before his death—returning home to put his affairs in order and donating all his assets to his hometown for its development.

The account also revealed a Weibo handle Mu Xing had never made public, filled with his records of life over the years—his final gift to his fans.

Many fans wept uncontrollably. When Chang Yiming heard the news, he sat silently by the window for a long time.

“Great-grandpa, what’s wrong?” came a gentle push on his knee.

He looked down. It was his two-year-old great-granddaughter.

The little girl’s big eyes blinked as she asked in her soft, milky voice, “Why aren’t you talking? Are you not feeling well?”

With slightly trembling hands, Chang Yiming patted her head and smiled. “I’m fine. I just remembered something from a long time ago, and got a little sentimental.”

The little girl didn’t really understand, but instinctively felt that her great-grandpa wasn’t very happy. She leaned against him and whispered, “Don’t think about it. Look at Niuniu.”

“Alright, alright. Great-grandpa won’t think about it. I’ll look at my sweet Niuniu.”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣