Yan Sanhe had to speak more plainly.

“That night at Xuanzang Temple, how many groups of people did we see?”

Li Buyan replied, “Two groups—Xie Thirty was one, the Imperial Grand Heir another.”

Yan Sanhe said, “We followed the Imperial Grand Heir’s carriage. The ‘real bodies’ stayed at Xuanzang Temple and returned to the capital with Xie Thirty.”

Li Buyan’s eyes fixed for a moment.

Holy crap!

Xie Thirty and his father Xie Daozhi both stood on the Imperial Grand Heir’s side.

Standing with the Imperial Grand Heir meant standing with the Crown Prince.

The Xie family was solidly Crown Prince faction.

“I have another question!”

Li Buyan raised her hand like a student, humbly asking Master Pei for instruction. “Aboveground or underground?”

Girl, is that any way to ask?

Pei Xiao thought: Fortunately I’m also quite clever!

“Underground!”

Li Buyan frowned. “Why underground? Wouldn’t openly supporting be better? After all, it’s legitimate and proper!”

“This…”

Pei Xiao thought: How should I answer this?

Yan Sanhe picked up the thread. “That can only explain one thing.”

Li Buyan asked, “What?”

Yan Sanhe was too lazy to speak in riddles now. Her words were extremely direct.

“It means the Emperor is very dissatisfied with the Crown Prince. To protect himself, Xie Daozhi simply can’t touch either side. Regarding his son’s affairs, including his marriage, he won’t support, won’t oppose, won’t take a position.”

Li Buyan shook her head. “Sounds quite like a scumbag.”

If he weren’t scum, could he climb so high and sit so stable?

Yan Sanhe sneered inwardly.

Li Buyan nudged Pei Xiao with her elbow. “What’s our Third Master’s attitude toward Du Yiyun?”

Why are you nudging me again?

Suspicious circumstances—my wife is still watching from the side!

Master Pei quickly pulled back his arm, distancing himself from Li Buyan.

“What Third Master’s attitude toward Du Yiyun is, you’d have to ask Third Master. I’m not a worm in his belly!”

“Him stringing Du Yiyun along like this is worse than a scumbag!” Yan Sanhe made the final judgment.

Master Pei: “…”

Strange, hearing her curse Xie Fifty like this, I actually feel quite pleased.

…

The cart wheels pressed on the blue stone road, creaking.

In the carriage, Du Yiyun gazed at the man opposite with eyes full of affection, cheeks flushed with spring.

He lowered his head, arm casually resting on the small table, his features devastatingly handsome and alluring.

In this world, there are two types of men: one type is stunning in childhood but grows up ruined, becoming ordinary; the other type is unremarkable in childhood but through years of refinement becomes increasingly outstanding.

Her Third Brother belonged to the latter.

Xie Zhifei sensed Du Yiyun watching him. After briefly organizing his thoughts, he raised his head.

“Yiyun?”

“Mm?”

“This illness attack was actually very dangerous. The abbot of Xuanzang Temple personally told me one word: difficult.”

“Third Brother?” Du Yiyun’s eyes reddened.

“Find a good family to marry into. Don’t waste your thoughts on me.”

Xie Zhifei’s voice was light. “Being delayed for me isn’t worth it.”

“Third Brother.”

Du Yiyun felt a chill rising from the soles of her feet.

“I don’t care at all how long you can live. If I cared, I wouldn’t have waited these many years. Moreover, when poor families get sick, they can still use old ginseng to sustain life for three to five years. The Xie and Du families aren’t lacking—surely you can live to fifty.”

Xie Zhifei shook his head. “Du Yiyun, I only see you as a younger sister. I told you this long ago, not just once. Right?”

“Perfect—then I have one more person doting on me!”

“This won’t work for me!”

“Is it because of that Yan Sanhe?”

“It has nothing to do with her.”

Xie Zhifei looked at her, dark currents surging in his eyes.

“Go back and tell your father—say Third Master is sorry to him, the Xie family is sorry to him!”

Du Yiyun’s breathing hitched. Immediately tears flowed down.

“Third Brother, we have so many years of affection. Why speak so absolutely?”

“That’s because!”

Xie Zhifei said word by word, “If I don’t speak absolutely now, I’ll be harming you. Stop the carriage!”

The carriage stopped. He jumped down, thought for a moment, then stuck his head back in.

“Remember to convey my words to your father. With some matters, ask questions, think about them—everything will become clear.”

“Third Brother!”

Du Yiyun’s expression changed. She asked word by word, “I’ll ask one more time—is it because of Yan Sanhe?”

Xie Zhifei looked at her deeply. “I’ll say it one more time—it’s not!”

The curtain fell.

The person inside the curtain suddenly curved her lips. Where were any tears in her eyes? Only cold depths, dark and profound, cold and terrifying.

The person outside the curtain looked calm and relaxed. He took the reins Zhu Qing handed him, mounted the horse, and rode away in a cloud of dust.

…

“Hyah—”

Xie Zhifei fiercely whipped the horse. It sped up even more.

Zhu Qing keenly sensed Master’s emotions were off. He also whipped his horse to follow.

The two horses entered Four Lanes Alley one after another.

Xie Zhifei suddenly pulled the reins. With a “whinny,” the horse’s front hooves rose high, circled several times in place, then stopped.

Xie Zhifei climbed up from the horse’s back, leaped, hooked his arm, and mounted the high wall.

“Master!”

Zhu Qing’s mind exploded with a “boom.”

Xie Zhifei sat down on the wall, his gaze falling on the tree by the wall.

Somehow, the tender buds of spring had become leaves—green, brimming with vitality.

But looking down was shocking.

The entire trunk was burned black, peeling where it peeled, cracking where it cracked—like a dying old person, the whole body supported only by that layer of skin.

Before, this tree hadn’t been like this.

It had been tall and strong, leaves dense, rustling in the wind.

This was his and his sister’s tacit secret realm.

The two often secretly climbed the tree, their small bodies hidden among branches and leaves where no one could find them.

Then she would sit and he would stand.

She’d cling tightly to his leg. He’d hold a branch with one hand, bending his head to look over the high wall.

“Tell me quickly—how many people in the alley today? Were there any peddlers with carrying poles?”

“No!”

“Then what?”

“There’s a pretty lady walking.”

“How pretty? Prettier than Mother?”

“Prettier than you anyway!”

“I’m going to tell Father and Mother you were peeking at another lady—unless… you say I’m pretty.”

“Yes, yes, yes—you’re the prettiest!”

“Not sincere at all!”

She shook his leg, saying fiercely, “Zheng Huaizuo, come down. It’s my turn now.”

That’s right—he used to be Zheng Huaizuo, who died under black-clothed men’s blades. That year he was eight, just learning a set of Zheng family swordwork.

He had a twin sister called Zheng Huaiyou.

Though born of the same mother, brother and sister had completely opposite temperaments.

He liked noise; she liked quiet.

He loved martial arts, getting headaches from books. She loved literature, avoiding weapons and staffs.

He went year-round without even a cough. She was sickly, uncomfortable every few days.

He ate a bowl of rice in two or three bites. She ate half a bowl, taking small bites, slowly chewing, always leaving the last bite.

Leaving that last bite was the doctor’s instruction.

Her spleen and stomach were weak—she could only eat sixty percent full. One bit more and her stomach couldn’t handle it, causing discomfort for a long while.

She also couldn’t eat fast. Each bite of rice must be chewed thirty-six times before swallowing.

She also couldn’t eat mushrooms. Even one bite and her whole body would break out in rashes, unbearably itchy.

The sickly one had a weak body and ate little, but climbed trees fast. He often mocked her as a cat spirit reincarnated.