“There is a way to deal with Lei Shenbao.” Feng Jiu’er stood by the bed, looking at Duan Wucheng.

“Miss?” Duan Wucheng looked up to meet her gaze. “What insight do you have?”

“Isn’t the Third Prince still here?” Feng Jiu’er turned toward Feng Jiang, who had just entered.

“Third Prince.” Duan Wucheng’s gaze shifted, and he tried to get off the bed. “How could I have forgotten, I…”

“Father, you can’t get up.” Duan Liuyang clutched her father’s arm to stop him.

“Speak lying down,” Feng Jiang said flatly, sitting in a nearby chair.

“Yes, Third Prince.” Duan Wucheng nodded slightly in obedience and lay back down.

“Third Prince, I wonder what you think of all this? Perhaps you could find someone better suited to be the lord of Yongshan City.”

“Our land here isn’t large, nor wealthy. If not for discovering the sulfur, this whole city would hold little value at all.”

“Even if Yongshan City were conquered and vanished entirely, His Majesty wouldn’t spare it another thought.”

Duan Wucheng’s strength was failing; it had taken great effort just to get through that much.

He drew several deep breaths, then turned his head toward Feng Jiang. “Now that the Third Prince is here, replacing the city lord is no more than a word from you.”

“Replacing me is possible, but I… have one condition.”

“What condition?” Feng Jiang asked in a low voice.

“My condition is that the new city lord must not… abandon a single one of our Yongshan City’s people,” Duan Wucheng said, his voice suddenly gaining strength.

“Third Prince, I know I have no right to bargain with you, but…”

“The people of Yongshan City are also His Majesty’s people. They’ve worked so hard—none of us has the right to abandon them.”

“Cough… cough cough…”

“Father, don’t speak anymore!” Duan Liuyang bent down, gently patting Duan Wucheng’s chest.

“Father, please don’t speak anymore, please, I’m begging you.”

“Uncle Liu, hurry and prepare some food—Father is hungry, make some porridge.”

Duan Liuyang, anxious, kept working with her hands as she turned back to look at Feng Jiu’er.

“Physician, could you write out the prescription for my father? Please, write it out first, can you? He…”

Duan Liuyang’s voice choked, crystalline tears already sliding down her fair, translucent face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll write it out right away.” Feng Jiu’er turned to look at Xiao Yingtao.

Xiao Yingtao quickly pulled out paper and a brush and came to the table.

Feng Jiu’er sat, took the brush, and began writing.

The steward, no longer caring whether the Third Prince was present, turned and practically ran out.

“I’ll bring my lord some porridge right away.”

“Miss Duan, the prescription is nearly done—could you have someone check whether your household has these herbs?” Xiao Yingtao looked at Duan Liuyang.

“We don’t have much medicine left at home. Let me have… Xiao Liu, Xiao Liu, come in.” Duan Liuyang looked toward the door.

“Miss.” A young man hurried in. “Miss, what are your orders?”

With such important guests in the house, the young man called Xiao Liu didn’t dare even lift his head.

“Go, take the physician’s prescription and fetch the herbs for my father. Quickly!” Duan Liuyang waved her delicate hand.

“Yes, Miss.” Xiao Liu took the prescription from Xiao Yingtao and left.

“Third… Third Prince.” Duan Wucheng’s voice grew even weaker.

“Rest for now, I won’t be leaving anytime soon,” Feng Jiang said, standing and walking toward the door.

Feng Jiu’er turned back to look at the man on the bed, whose face had grown even paler.

“If you’re worth helping, no one will stand by and do nothing—especially the Third Prince, who has always loved the people as his own children.”

“Rest well!”

Feng Jiu’er dropped those words and stepped out as well.

The group left Duan Wucheng’s chamber, and Xiao Yingtao, walking last, turned and closed the door behind her.

Just then, Qiao Mu and Xing Zizhou, who had gone off earlier, returned.

“What’s the situation?” Feng Jiu’er looked at the two of them.

“In the two courtyards out back, the people living there are all orphans,” Qiao Mu said, glancing back the way she’d come.

“There’s also a couple in their fifties living there—from what they said, they’re normally responsible for the children’s day-to-day care.”

“Orphans?” Feng Jiu’er furrowed her brow.

“Yes.” Qiao Mu nodded. “There are over fifty orphans now, ranging from a few months old to teenagers.”

“Beyond those two courtyards are the fields. The couple raises chickens, ducks, and fish, and grows vegetables—probably to feed the orphans.”

“They also said the orphans old enough for schooling all attend a private academy. The lord treats them like his own children—kind, but strict too.”

“Jiu’er, look over there.” Qiao Mu turned and pointed at a building not far off.

“That’s the newest, most lavishly decorated house—it belongs to Duan Langyu and his mother. I heard her family back home is quite wealthy.”

“And this place.” Qiao Mu turned her gaze back to the building in front of them. “This is where Duan Wucheng and his second wife live.”

“That’s the whole of the Duan estate—just these few buildings, nothing more.” Qiao Mu shrugged.

“I also heard that aside from Duan Langyu’s side, which has several maids, this place only has the steward, Uncle Liu, and his son Xiao Liu as servants.”

“Apparently the second wife is very capable—she handles almost everything herself, rarely relying on others.”

“Where’s the second wife now?” Feng Jiu’er turned to look at the spacious yet somewhat worn-down house.

“After Duan Langyu died, the first wife fell apart. The second wife took her young son into the mountains to pray to Buddha,” Qiao Mu said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“If none of this is just for show, then it really does seem like Duan Langyu was the bad one.”

“Jiu’er, what do we do now?” Xiao Yingtao walked over.

“Let’s go eat.” Feng Jiu’er turned to look at Feng Jiang.

“Sure.” Feng Jiang understood what his sister meant.

The siblings had reached an agreement, and even though the others found it a bit sudden, no one objected.

When the steward hurried back, everyone who had been there earlier was already gone.

He looked around, shook his head, turned, and pushed open the door to Duan Wucheng’s chamber.

Xing Zizhou led the group to an inn near the Duan estate.

They didn’t take rooms upstairs, instead sitting at two tables in a corner of the ground floor.

Feng Jiu’er, Jian Yi, Feng Jiang, and Qiao Mu sat at one table; Xing Zizhou, Xiao Yingtao, and Zhao Yusheng at another. The two tables were close together.

It happened to be lunchtime, and the inn was fairly crowded.

“Did you hear? Lei Shenbao is going to attack our Yongshan City again!” a commoner not far off sighed.

“Isn’t that the truth?” another shook his head. “It’s only been a few years—how many times is this now?”

“Thank goodness we have Lord Duan, otherwise this little city would’ve been done for long ago.” A third commoner picked up his cup and took a sip of tea.

“Poor Lord Duan.” A fourth leaned in, lowering his voice.

“I heard the eldest young master of the Duan family was killed by Lei Shenbao. Losing a son in his middle years like that—how tragic for Lord Duan!”