As the night watch ended and the hazy moonlight faintly glowed, Wei Yangwan had no chance to appreciate the beautiful scenery of floating mists and warm greens. His mood was even darker than the gloomy sky.
“Imperial Brother wants to call a deer a horse? Little Brother has nothing to say. But anyone with a bit of brains knows this is someone deliberately framing and sowing discord between us brothers.”
The youth, with bruises all over his face, sniffed and angrily stuffed his hands into his sleeves as he sat in the small courtyard of the post station.
“It must be Cui Shihan’s doing. That strategist threw herself into the trap!”
“Do we need outsiders to sow discord between us?” Wei Xichen, who had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, leaned against the stone mill in the courtyard. A bruise marred his left cheekbone. He lacked his usual refined and jade-like demeanor, instead carrying a faint air of fireworks.
No close attendants stood nearby. The two groups of guards outside the post station were at daggers drawn, but inside the tightly shut courtyard gate, it was unusually quiet.
On an ordinary night, after the two brothers had fought fiercely, they finally spoke calmly.
“In any case, Little Brother did not abduct Gong Fei.”
How could Wei Xichen not know he had fallen into a trap within a trap, manipulated by an invisible hand that plucked at his suspicious heartstrings, leaving him lost in doubt?
His maternal grandfather’s time was running out, and one faction seemed to be quietly growing.
Tearing faces with the Cui Clan benefited the Third Prince. Breaking with the Third Prince benefited which side?
Among the seven princes, aside from the Eldest Prince and the Third Prince, the other four had yet to fully spread their wings.
Wei Xichen rubbed the white jade pendant at his waist, thinking of his grandfather’s worries—the Eldest Prince had died without a trace.
The carriage had exploded, shattering into pieces. The coroners could not confirm the identity of the remains pieced together.
Suddenly, the jade pendant in Wei Xichen’s hand felt exceptionally cold.
“Leave Yangzhou at dawn tomorrow. Don’t cause more trouble. Fair salt administration concerns the prosperity of the nation. Elder Brother has no energy to tangle with you. Don’t force Elder Brother to get rough with your people.”
“Threatening me?”
“See if you take the threat.”
The youth sitting on the ground fell silent for a moment, then stood up, patted the dust from his clothes, and said, “That old thing Gong Fei is in the woodshed, right?”
“What are you doing?”
“Interrogating him.” The youth pointed at his imperial brother from afar. “Father Emperor said that false mercy is acceptable, but true mercy only gives the opponent a chance to strike back.”
The youth rolled up his sleeves, kicked open the woodshed door with ferocious momentum and murderous intent, walked in, and shut the door behind him.
Gong Fei’s cries echoed from the woodshed. Wei Xichen pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Will you confess?”
“Does it hurt?”
Inside the woodshed, the wolf-like youth straddled Gong Fei’s neck, plucking the old man’s whiskers one by one. Pain made tears well up in the old man’s eyes.
Yan Zhuyu watched, her mouth twitching.
After plucking dozens of whiskers, the youth leaped down and glanced at the disheveled Yan Zhuyu. “Scared?”
Yan Zhuyu responded with contempt. “Childish.”
“So, you want This Prince to kill this old thing, hm?” Wei Yangwan walked up to Yan Zhuyu, looming over her with a sinister smile.
“Slap!”
A crisp slap rang out in the inky night.
The youth bent down and used his fan handle to turn Yan Zhuyu’s slapped face back straight.
The imperial clansmen had no playmates from childhood; they moved like walking corpses, utterly boring. It was rare to find a spoiled brat, only for her to be snatched away. The youth seethed with anger.
“This is for Jiang Niannian. Put it on her tab.”
Yan Zhuyu glared furiously, the dark bruises under her eyes intensifying. “She was born lucky. You’re all willing to play second fiddle to her!”
The youth sneered. “Otherwise, favor you? Why should we?”
At that age when he still didn’t understand scheming, the weight of childhood playmates was immeasurable. But looking back suddenly, things had changed, people had moved on.
The morning sun gradually illuminated the rippling waves, the shimmering light bidding farewell to the guest boat.
The red-clothed youth boarded the deck and gazed at the receding shore.
No one came to see him off.
“Fine, fine. Human affections are cold.” The youth shrugged indifferently.
In the scorching summer during the plum rain season, the waterway risked violent storms. Wei Qin chose a mountain path for Jiang Yinyue and her servants’ return journey, less rugged than the way there.
After instructing the leading Hong Mei, Wei Qin walked to Jiang Yinyue’s side.
The dawn light shimmered brilliantly, the lush greenery thriving. They gazed at each other, words of parting failing them.
“Let’s go. I’ll see you off.”
A fragrant breeze wafted ten li; no farewells were spoken.
Babbling streams wound around the green mountains, splashing water flowers drifting downstream, bidding farewell to the peaks.
Passing through a shadowy slanting path and stepping onto the long grassy slope, Jiang Yinyue took the bundle from Wei Qin’s shoulder. “Head back.”
“Be careful on the road.”
“Mm!”
Hong Mei gave a look, and the female guards quietly withdrew.
Parting amid the verdant scenery, a faint sorrow lingered, unscattered by the wind.
Jiang Yinyue tiptoed, smoothed the stray hairs at Wei Qin’s temples, and looked up smiling at the handsome face so close.
In his cyan official robes and black gauze hat, Wei Qin exuded elegant charm and grace, blending into the mountains, grasses, and trees—and into Jiang Yinyue’s clear eyes.
“When autumn comes, I’ll welcome you back.” Jiang Yinyue suppressed the choke in her throat, hoping he would return home as promised.
Wei Qin leaned down, forehead touching his wife’s.
The scenery was gentle, and so was the man. Amid the tender affection, Jiang Yinyue did something bold, then timidly ran off, slipped into the carriage, and urged Hong Mei to drive faster.
Wei Qin watched the carriage head toward the opposite hillside, touching his damp forehead with the back of his hand.
His robes fluttered wildly. He raised his sleeve and lightly kissed the back of his hand.
As they drove farther away, Jiang Yinyue poked her head out the window and waved vigorously.
Still as clever and sly.
The caravan traveled over twenty li into flat mountain roads. Jiang Yinyue lifted the curtain, stepped out holding the doorframe, the parting gloom scattered by the wind.
“Lightning Chaser!”
The scruffy horse trailing the caravan reacted, galloping over joyfully.
When Lightning Chaser caught up to the carriage, Jiang Yinyue grabbed the reins and a tuft of mane with one hand and vaulted onto its back. “Giddyup!”
The favored scruffy horse ran with the momentum of a Sweat-Blooded Steed. How could the cramped stables compare to the vast wild mountains’ freedom!
“Woof! Woof!”
Watching the woman and horse race freely, Qi Bao barked nonstop from inside the carriage.
Under the brilliant sun, the floral patterns on the woman’s brocade skirt bloomed amid the mountain vistas.
A beauty of captivating allure.
The white-clothed man who had come to see them off watched the distant woman and horse in silence.
On the way back, the splendid scenery dimmed inch by inch, his desire to return to the Capital City intensifying.
Passing a fortune-telling stall, the man heard a question—
“Young sir, with your dragon-like bearing and phoenix poise, far from ordinary—why the furrowed brow?”
Wei Xichen halted his guards and asked warmly, “Can you divine marriage fates?”
The stall owner pinched a whisker and gestured “please.”
Wei Xichen sat before the stall and drew a bamboo slip from the cylinder offered by the Daoist.
The stall owner examined it carefully. “What troubles young sir is not marriage, but letting go of a regret.”
The guards exchanged glances.
He had some skill.
Wei Xichen smiled and sighed. “Please speak plainly. Is my marriage fate unfavorable?”
“Marriages in this world are full of regrets.”
“I understand.” He left some silver, nodded, and departed.
Those opaque in love were clear in other matters, understanding at once.
The stall owner stood and shouted at the white-clothed figure’s back: “With sincere devotion, even metal and stone will open. Don’t give up! I wish young sir smooth sailing and all desires fulfilled.”
Wei Xichen did not turn back, his thin lips curving slightly. His wishes were few: to ascend the throne, to regain what was lost.
No regrets from the pleasure quarters.
“Whoa~”
After the great heat, under the blazing sun, Jiang Yinyue reined in her horse by a stream. “Let’s rest.”
Hong Mei glanced at the fierce sun beyond the uneven branches and led her horse to the stream first to cool it.
After days of travel, with no village ahead or behind, she marveled at her young miss’s endurance.
“Young Miss must have suffered much on the way with Uncle.”
Jiang Yinyue held Lightning Chaser’s reins in one hand and Qi Bao’s leash in the other as she walked to the stream. “With Wei Qin shielding me from wind, frost, snow, and rain, it wasn’t bitter at all.”
“Uncle is good at taking care of people.”
Jiang Yinyue scooped a ladle of icy stream water and fed it to Lightning Chaser, letting Qi Bao drink on its own at the edge.
“But he doesn’t take care of himself, always getting injured.”
“Husband and wife should care for each other.”
Mentioning Wei Qin swept away Jiang Yinyue’s road fatigue. She lay back beside the gurgling stream, feeling the warmth of the pebbles beneath her.
“After the End of Heat, we’ll be out of the hottest period. Let’s hurry back to the mansion to moisten up.”
Northern autumns were dry; Jiang Yinyue missed the small pear soup simmered by the Jiang Mansion cooks.
“This servant fears Young Miss can’t endure it.”
Aside from Jiang Yinyue, they were all martial artists who could withstand scorching summers and bitter winters.
Jiang Yinyue picked up a smooth pebble and pressed it to her face. “Me? I’m as tough as this stone.”
At first, the female guards thought their young miss was boasting. But after days of wind, dew, sun, and exposure, the former spoiled brat hadn’t complained once.
On the ninth day after the End of Heat, the group neared the Capital City.
Meanwhile, ten li from one of the Capital City’s gates, someone awaited eagerly.
Servants sent by Jiang Song stood watch here daily for their returning young miss.
“By the date, she should arrive.”
“My wife should be back too. I’m turning into a husband-gazing stone.”
A female guard’s husband joked when suddenly he spotted a scruffy horse galloping from afar. He raised the spyglass, peered closely, and blew a sharp whistle…
“Master! Master, the Young Miss is almost here!”
The messenger spurred his horse back into the city and rushed panting to the Ministry of Justice yamen to report.
Jiang Song, who was briefing someone on a case, abruptly stood.
But when he rode to the gate, he saw the Third Prince, who had just returned to the capital two days prior, waiting there with his men.
“What’s this?”
Wei Yangwan faced the sunset as he looked at Jiang Song and gestured casually. “Young Master Zhang the Seventh, Lady Ji the Eldest, Miss Zhao the Sixth… These people all kicked her when she was down. Today, they come to apologize to your daughter.”
Dozens of high-born nobles gathered: some shoulders slumped, some mouths askew, some faces darkened, all furious but silent.
The Crown Prince’s vindication of Jiang Yinyue had been delayed by Yangzhou salt affairs, falling to Wei Yangwan’s shoulders.
The fractious youth hadn’t refused.
Jiang Song lifted his chin. “Only these people?”
“Killing the chicken to scare the monkey—it’s enough.”
The echoes of past slanders and doubts still rang in his ears. Jiang Song’s peach-blossom eyes rippled. Most of these people had blindly followed the crowd; now that things had turned, how much sincerity could there be?
He couldn’t drag everyone here—too many, from ministers to clerks. As many flattered Wei Xichen as slandered Jiang Yinyue.
Jiang Song spread his hands, stepped into the stirrup, and mounted again. “We don’t accept.”
The youth planted his hands on his hips. “Then what?”
“You can never change people’s prejudices.” Jiang Song leaned low, close to the youth’s face. “On prejudices, killing the chicken doesn’t warn the monkey. Apologies without sincerity are empty words. We don’t accept. What we can do is not stumble over prejudices, rising steadily—not just in rank, but in character.”
“Giddyup!”
Jiang Song whipped his horse and rode out the gate.
The half-understanding Wei Yangwan spat the dust that flew into his mouth. From dusk to sunset, Jiang Yinyue still hadn’t returned.
“Where’s the moon? Where’s that big moon?”
The youth sighed at the sky.
Outside the city, before a grave, a tall and elegant middle-aged man accompanied his teary-eyed daughter in speaking to his late wife.
Jiang Yinyue knelt before her mother’s tomb, choking, “Mother, Daughter is back.”
Bean-sized teardrops fell in strings.
Jiang Song gripped his daughter’s shoulders and shook gently. “Alright, Mother wouldn’t want to see you crying. Smile for Mother.”
Jiang Yinyue wiped her tears with her father’s sleeve, forced a smile, her eyes slightly swollen, nose red.
With the moon set and stars sparse, Jiang Yinyue lay on her father’s back, chattering about the journey’s sights, more lively than birds perched on branches.
The breeze was gentle, the scenery elegant. Jiang Song steadily carried his daughter through the night, just like before.
Jiang the Eldest Miss, from birth to her hundred-day celebration, had barely touched the ground with her feet. For years after, the delicate Jiang Family’s Daughter would frown daintily even if her shoe soles got muddy.
From his daughter’s words, Jiang Song sensed her growth, feeling gratified yet sighing.
“You’ve talked so much. Father asks: have you made room in your heart for Father’s good son-in-law?”
“Mm…”
“Mm means how much room?”
“More than Father…”
Jiang Song said sarcastically, “Think it over before answering.”
Jiang Yinyue’s eyes curved in a smile. “Naturally not as good as Father.”
“What about compared to Taolue?”
“A little less.”
“What about Father compared to Taolue?”
Jiang Yinyue heavily patted her father’s shoulders, propped herself up, cupped her hands around her mouth like a loudspeaker, and shouted, “No one can replace Father!”
Jiang Song shot her a mock glare, fine fragments of laughter spilling from the depths of his eyes.
Yangzhou.
From the early spring adorned in jade-green hues to the deep autumn layered in emerald and gold, Wei Qin—who had survived nine deaths and one life—stood at the ferry with his bundle on his back, waiting for the guards to load one ice coffin after another onto the passenger ship.
The passenger ship had been crafted by famous artisans and was equipped with an ice cellar. On the day Wei Qin returned to the capital, Tao Qian’s body and name would lie in ruins.
Wei Xichen, eager to hurry back to the capital to visit his maternal grandfather, had set off at the end of summer. Before departing, he had instructed Wei Qin to wait until deep autumn, when the weather had cooled, before transporting the coffins containing the assassins’ corpses back to the capital.
No mishaps allowed.
The guards boarded one after another, leaving only Wei Qin standing quietly on the shore.
At his instructions, the Wei Family members had not come to see him off.
When footsteps sounded behind him, he turned his head slightly and locked eyes with the girl who had “happened to pass by.”
Not a single word was exchanged.
Facing the evening glow, Cui Shihan watched Wei Qin board the passenger ship. She blinked to force back her tears and said hoarsely, “Take care.”
Wei Qin turned at the stern and suddenly lifted the corner of his lips.
A clear and crisp voice drifted on the autumn wind.
“Take care, Little Aunt.”