Jin Yin had been rather troubled these past few days.

Many major clients who knew of him, clutching papers claiming “a certain Mr. Jin from the capital is a prince of Yuling,” had rushed over in panic demanding to withdraw their silver deposits from the money house. He repeatedly explained that the Mr. Jin mentioned wasn’t him, even providing several other people with the surname Jin, but couldn’t change their minds. After exhausting his arguments and losing his temper, he had the counter staff process their withdrawals. He consoled himself that at least this saved him interest payments.

However, this wasn’t actually what troubled him. He’d done quite well these past years, and with the world heading toward chaos, he’d already intended to appropriately tighten his money house operations. So if major clients wanted to flee, let them flee. Moreover, most clients didn’t know the name of the Jin Yin Money House’s major owner anyway.

What troubled him was the question of where to go from here.

As Yuan Cheng had said, the Great Zhou court couldn’t possibly determine his identity based on a single slip of paper—they would certainly investigate secretly first. Da Qiu and Nande would do the same. Once they uncovered the truth, it would take anywhere from two months at minimum to half a year at most. During this period, he’d only need to guard against hidden arrows. Hidden arrows he could handle on his own, and the other party would have to swallow their frustration. But if this period passed and people confirmed everything and decided to act openly, things would become complicated—he’d have to see what stance each nation took. Presumably, Da Qiu would want to eliminate the threat completely, while Great Zhou and Nande might either show magnanimity by taking him in (which would amount to house arrest under a different name), or align themselves with Da Qiu by either killing him or driving him away.

Jin Yin understood clearly that if he remained in a passive position, in the end he might have to go into hiding again under a false name, abandoning everything he’d worked so hard to establish. He also understood Yuan Cheng’s implication—taking initiative was better than remaining passive. However, what would be the cost of taking initiative?

“Jiu Jiu.” He tapped the window frame with his fan, calling to the green figure who had been crouching before him for quite some time.

He was inside the study, she was outside it.

The green figure put down her small hoe, changed the water pot, and continued with her back to him without so much as a sound.

“Little Jiu, Stupid Jiu, Idiot Jiu…” After trying a string of names, he narrowed his eyes and changed tactics: “Dou Lu.”

The green figure paused her movements, slowly stood up, and slowly turned around. “Young Master called me?”

So she’d been pretending to be absorbed in her task, deliberately ignoring him?

Jin Yin leaned on the windowsill laughing. “Did your sister teach you this? Not to acknowledge unless I call you Dou Lu?”

“If the proper name isn’t spoken, how would the listener know who Young Master is calling?” Dou Lu looked at Jin Yin as if he were rather dim.

Jin Yin exclaimed in delight, his mood lifting slightly. “I take back what I said before about you not being like your sister. Two sisters, two mouths—one quick, one slow; one outspoken, one reserved—yet both equally formidable.”

“I suppose so.” Dou Lu turned around, raised her hand to pluck plum blossoms one by one, placing them into the bamboo basket hanging at her waist.

“You actually pick flowers? Seeing how much you love flowers, I thought you’d fight anyone who picked them.” Jin Yin had imagined it would be exactly like that.

“Plum blossoms bloom fully for only a few days—past their peak, they decline. By picking them at the right time to use as auxiliary ingredients for brewing wine, their fragrance lasts longer.” Dou Lu picked the blossoms not carelessly, but with careful selection.

Watching her pick flowers was like observing her character.

Jin Yin fell silent for a long while. “Dou Lu, if I were to leave the capital, what would you do?” The moment the words left his mouth, he felt them unnecessary—naturally she would follow Mo Zi.

“If I complete three tasks for Young Master, I’ll go find my sister. Otherwise I can only follow Young Master.” One must keep one’s word.

Jin Yin started—he’d forgotten all about those three tasks he’d casually mentioned that day.

“That would rather inconvenience you.” Only follow him? He hadn’t planned on bringing along someone who would be a burden.

“Is Young Master returning to Yuling?” Dou Lu already knew about Jin Yin’s identity.

Jin Yin’s eyes darkened. “Yuling is a fallen nation—what could I do by returning?”

“Well…” Dou Lu spoke slowly. “Once you return, you’ll probably know what needs doing. It’s like these flowers—if they’re not before your eyes, how can you tend them?” She seemed to love explaining everything through flower metaphors, yet there was genuine logic to it.

“Besides, Young Master has silver.” A great deal of silver.

“So?” What business was his silver of hers?

“Young Master is usually so miserly—not to save every tael for its own sake, but to spend it where it counts at critical moments, right?” Dou Lu spoke very directly. “Otherwise, why earn so much silver in the first place?”

Why earn it?

Jin Yin started again. Why indeed? He hadn’t thought about it in so long. Back when he first began trading, when he thought about it most frequently—that was when. He wanted to earn enormous amounts of silver, then follow what Mo Zi had told him about economics determining superstructure—recruit soldiers, buy horses, and seize the throne to infuriate that old bastard and that mother-son pair to death. They’d suppressed him so much, yet he’d rise above them—proving how foolish they were.

“So I did think about it once.”

He thought about that lofty dragon throne, thought about wearing dragon robes with those who wanted him dead kneeling at his feet. He murmured to himself, “But when did I stop wanting it?” Was it during drunken slumbers, during wild rides and carriage races, or while viewing mountains and crossing waters?

Dou Lu turned to look, her lake-green hair ribbon fluttering in the wind. As her hair swirled, a plum blossom fell into her hair. She saw he was questioning himself and didn’t need others butting in, so she remained quiet.

“Young Master!” Two urgent calls, figures swift as wind—today Qian and Bai Liang wore identical outfits.

“Such commotion—if it’s not urgent business, I’m docking both your wages for two months.” Jin Yin resumed his miserly money god expression.

“Third Young Master has arrived!” The twins seemed to be practicing telepathy, speaking as if from a single mouth.

Hearing that Mo Zi had come, Jin Yin smiled with considerable interest. “Dou Lu, you have a good sister—she comes every few days to stand up for you. In the past, I had to beg just to see her once.”

“That’s not right.” Dou Lu understood Mo Zi better than Jin Yin. “Sister said she’d have someone bring me to stay somewhere for a couple days, but she didn’t say she’d come personally. Perhaps she’s here to see Young Master.”

“Me?” Jin Yin furrowed his brow.

“Jiu Jiu is correct—Third Young Master is indeed here for Young Master, and also… also…” How to say it? Their beautiful eyes filled with difficulty.

This was Qian Liang, supposed to be more composed.

“Coffin!” His younger brother Bai Liang shouted the two words with very exaggerated expression.

Jin Yin stood on a chair and climbed out through the window.

The twin brothers and Dou Lu found this completely unremarkable.

Jin Yin had no martial arts skills, but he loved doing unexpected things. For instance, perfectly fine doors left unused while he climbed through windows. No matter how ungraceful the posture, if he wanted to climb, he climbed.

“You two—one speaks with no ending, the other with no beginning. Are you looking to get beaten?”

It made his heart unsettled and chaotic.

“Sister brought a coffin.” Dou Lu connected beginning and end, explaining truthfully.

Qian Liang and Bai Liang clapped their hands, simultaneously giving thumbs up. “Exactly!”

Jin Yin was shocked. He naturally wouldn’t think Mo Zi was being deliberately mysterious, but bringing a coffin to his house—for whom?

“Let’s go see!” No wonder the two boys came flying—he wanted wheels on his feet to get there.

As he walked past Dou Lu, Jin Yin retreated two steps to look down at her, opened his mouth, but made no sound.

Seeing this, Dou Lu said, “If Sister brought a coffin to find Young Master, it must be extremely urgent. Besides tending flowers, I understand nothing—rather than being unhelpful and in the way, I might as well wait here. Please, Young Master, ask Sister for me whether I still need to stay over tonight.”

“You certainly know how to assess the situation.” Jin Yin’s gaze swept toward the plum branches.

“At least I won’t drag Sister down.” Dou Lu followed Jin Yin’s gaze, turning her head.

“Don’t move.” Jin Yin extended his hand, producing a plum blossom between his fingers—the very one that had fallen into Dou Lu’s hair.

“Thank you, Young Master.” Dou Lu stepped back two paces.

“You…” Jin Yin looked her over repeatedly, shaking his head. “Seems you’re actually not so ugly after all.”

Bai Liang rolled his eyes. “Young Master, your eyesight is poor—should we find a physician to examine you? She’s clearly a celestial beauty—how is she ugly?”

Jin Yin casually swatted Bai Liang’s head with his fan. “Who has poor eyesight? This young master has seen countless women.”

Bai Liang yelped but his mouth hadn’t learned better. “I was wondering why every time Young Master hosts a banquet, the singing girls and dancing girls he finds are all so ugly—I thought Young Master was being frugal, but it turns out his eyesight is off.”

Qian Liang pulled his brother aside, just in time for him to dodge Jin Yin’s second fan strike. “Let’s go, so much nonsense. This is called different flowers for different eyes, understand?”

The three entered the central hall, where Yi Liang called out “Young Master” with a grief-stricken expression.

In the center of the hall sat an ominously dark wooden coffin, draped with white flowers. Beside the coffin stood two people—though not wearing hemp mourning clothes, they wore plain white and solemn expressions. They were Mo Zi and Zan Jin.

Jin Yin’s brow furrowed even deeper.

“I originally intended just to send the person over, but in the end I bought a coffin. Fine agarwood—plain exterior but solid and sturdy, just like this old gentleman…” Mo Zi hadn’t delayed after disembarking, changing clothes before coming directly.

“Who are you talking about?” Though Jin Yin spoke, he couldn’t help but stride forward quickly to look.

With one look, his expression changed completely.

“Old Chen…” That face covered in bloody gore, eyes staring wide, yet no longer breathing—though he had once spoken coldly with open mockery and veiled sarcasm, it was only to make the man give up hope. Chen Kui was the main general of Yuling’s resistance army, and now he was dead, his eyes refusing to close in death.

“Jin Yin, my condolences.” Mo Zi had never seen such a terrible expression on Jin Yin’s face.

“Who…” He choked on the words, coughing violently as if his heart and lungs would be coughed out. “Who killed him?”

Mo Zi recounted the entire sequence of events. “The old general’s final words—”

Jin Yin suddenly waved his arm. “I don’t want to hear them. Mo Zi, your sister is in the back garden. Didn’t you say you’d bring her to stay with you for a couple days? Go ahead.” He also had Yi Liang take the twins out.

At this moment, no one could approach Jin Yin. His face was like frost, his eyes like fire, lips pressed tight, expression rigid. His hand gripped the coffin as if he wanted to crush it.

Mo Zi sighed, turned toward the door, but stopped halfway, looking back. “He hoped you’d return to Yuling. He also said he always knew you would be a wise ruler. Whether you listen is your affair, but I cannot fail to convey his words to you.”

Jin Yin remained motionless, as if turned to stone.

After bringing Dou Lu to Deer Horn Lane, Mo Zi didn’t hide anything from her sister, telling her everything. “Dou Lu, it’s no longer safe by Young Master Jin’s side. Let Sister arrange another place for you, all right?”

“Sister, if fighting truly breaks out, where would be safe? Young Master helped me once, and I promised to do three things for him.” Dou Lu shook her head. “I just can’t understand how Brother Yan Qie could have changed like this, allowing his soldiers to be so cruel. He used to be so gentle.”

“It was all false.” Mo Zi smiled without particular loathing in her emotions, her heart very calm. “Everything he showed us was false.”

Zan Jin called from outside—they’d arrived at Deer Horn Lane.