Hearing that Lin Hao had come, Wen Feng hurried out to greet her.

“I heard Eleventh Brother returned, so Mother asked me to come see you.” Lin Hao smiled in greeting, signaling for Baozhu to set down the gifts they had brought.

Wen Feng’s face showed emotion: “I’ve troubled Auntie and my cousin to think of me.”

Regarding the gifts Lin Hao brought, he didn’t refuse them—doing so would only make things seem distant.

“Eleventh Brother suffered these past days.” Lin Hao looked at Wen Feng, who had clearly lost weight, naturally opening the conversation.

Sorrow flashed through Wen Feng’s eyes, his smile carrying unconcealed bitterness: “I only stayed elsewhere for a few days. It was nothing.”

Compared to the deceased Crown Prince, what did a few days of confinement matter?

Wen Feng was an honest person. These past days at Jinlin Guard, he had barely slept well. More than worrying about himself, he grieved over the Crown Prince’s death.

“At least it’s all over now.” Lin Hao consoled him gently.

All over?

Hearing these words, Wen Feng became somewhat distracted.

Was it over?

The Crown Prince was dead. Did that mean they had to reinstate the incompetent and unvirtuous Prince Liang as Crown Prince? If not Prince Liang, then what should be done?

If they hadn’t accompanied the Crown Prince drinking outside that day, would the Crown Prince not have met with mishap?

It couldn’t be over. With the Crown Prince’s death, whether for Great Zhou or for him personally, everything was different. That day was destined to become a lifelong nightmare, an unresolvable knot in his heart.

“Eleventh Brother.”

Hearing Lin Hao’s call, Wen Feng snapped back to attention and hurriedly picked up the teapot to pour her more tea, covering his embarrassment: “A’Hao, have some tea.”

Lin Hao acted as if she hadn’t noticed Wen Feng’s lapse, lifting her teacup for a shallow sip.

“It’s not particularly good tea.” Wen Feng smiled apologetically.

“I think it tastes quite nice.” Lin Hao took another sip, then brought up what concerned her: “Eleventh Brother, what kind of person do you think Yang Zhe is?”

Wen Feng froze, his gaze at Lin Hao carrying something unusual: “Why bring him up so suddenly?”

Lin Hao lowered her eyes, staring at the tea leaves floating in her cup: “Just curious. Don’t you think too many things have happened surrounding Yang Zhe?”

Wen Feng’s eyes flickered slightly, catching Lin Hao’s implication: “You think Yang Zhe isn’t innocent?”

Lin Hao held her teacup without speaking.

Wen Feng slowly shook his head: “It can’t be.”

Under the young woman’s calm, water-like gaze, his tone became more resolute: “He’s a gentleman of noble character and gentle as jade. If you spent more time with him, you’d understand.”

“Eleventh Brother has such high praise for Yang Zhe.” Lin Hao pulled at the corners of her lips.

Wen Feng’s expression became increasingly serious: “It’s just my genuine feeling from interacting with him. Go ask Baocheng and the others—they’ll say the same. Many incidents have occurred around Yang Zhe, but the more outstanding someone is, the more attention they attract. What do you think, A’Hao?”

Lin Hao curved her lips in a smile.

Seeing how highly her cousin regarded Yang Zhe, she wouldn’t get anything from him.

She set down her teacup. Before she could speak words of farewell, the door curtain was suddenly lifted.

“Feng’er—”

The person, both hands carrying items, called out excitedly, but seeing Lin Hao’s pretty face turn toward him, his voice came to an abrupt halt.

The items in Wen Rusheng’s hands fell to the ground, his eyes widening enormously: “You, you, you—”

Lin Hao stood up, raising a smiling face: “Eighth Uncle.”

This crisp call made Wen Rusheng shudder and turn to run, but because his movement was too hasty, he heavily collided with Wen Ping’s shoulder behind him.

Wen Ping stumbled and fell to the ground while Wen Rusheng disappeared in a flash. Fruits scattered on the ground rolled about, adding even more chaos to the scene.

Lin Hao stared at Wen Ping for a moment, finally settling her gaze on Wen Feng’s face: “Eleventh Brother, Eighth Uncle, he—”

Still firmly believed she was a demon?

Wen Feng was extremely embarrassed. His mind raced to find a not-very-clever excuse: “These past days’ events frightened my father badly. He gets easily startled when he suddenly sees people… Uncle Ping, quickly go find my father.”

Wen Ping climbed up, looked deeply at Lin Hao, responded, and hurried out in pursuit.

“A’Hao, I’m truly sorry.” Wen Feng scratched his head, losing his usual composed appearance.

Mainly he was nervous—if A’Hao learned that his father considered her a demon, it would be too shameful.

“Eighth Uncle cares about Eleventh Brother. Eleventh Brother should go check on Eighth Uncle. I should be heading back too.”

“I’ll see my cousin out.”

Lin Hao didn’t refuse.

Either way, she had to go out.

The two walked out the courtyard gate and along the alley. After just a few steps, they discovered something wasn’t quite right ahead.

Many people stood at the alley entrance, with sounds of commotion coming through.

Lin Hao and Wen Feng exchanged glances.

“A’Hao, let me go check first.” Wen Feng thought of something, dropped these words, and hurried forward.

Though Lin Hao didn’t care about that uncle, for Wen Feng’s sake she couldn’t appear too indifferent, so she also quickened her pace.

Emerging from the alley entrance, it was indeed Wen Rusheng who had met with trouble.

He sat on the ground crying out in pain while Wen Ping gripped a man, not letting him leave.

The man wasn’t easy to provoke either, his face flushed red with anger: “Why should I compensate? He ran into me himself!”

“You injured someone and you’re still in the right?”

Wen Feng walked over quickly, bending down to help Wen Rusheng up: “Father, are you alright?”

Wen Rusheng pointed to his right foot: “My foot hurts!”

“What about elsewhere?”

Seeing his son’s anxious expression, Wen Rusheng shook his head: “Just twisted my ankle when I fell. Everything else is fine.”

Wen Feng breathed a sigh of relief and called to Wen Ping, who was entangled with the man: “Uncle Ping, let him go. First, let’s get my father to a medical hall.”

Wen Rusheng wasn’t pleased: “Just let him walk away like that?”

Wen Feng knew best how to persuade his father to listen: “Your son shouldn’t get involved in more trouble right now. What do you think?”

Hearing this, Wen Rusheng became compliant.

Seeing the man released, the onlookers who had stopped to watch the excitement gradually dispersed.

Lin Hao walked over, her face showing concern: “Is Eighth Uncle alright?”

Wen Rusheng instinctively shuddered. The close proximity made him afraid to act rashly. He tried hard to act as if he had forgotten the young woman’s true nature: “A’Hao is here. I’m fine, hiss—”

“Father, I’ll carry you to the medical hall.” Wen Feng lifted Wen Rusheng onto his back, struggling slightly, but fortunately Wen Ping supported them.

Wen Rusheng felt bad for his son and quickly said: “Just have Wen Ping support me.”

“That won’t do—we don’t even know how badly your foot is injured.” Wen Feng stood steady and took a step forward.

“Eleventh Brother, take my carriage.” Lin Hao pointed to the carriage stopped by the roadside.

Wen Feng’s feet didn’t stop: “No need. The medical hall is right there.”

Lin Hao followed his gaze and saw a small medical hall with a “Loyal Heart Hall” sign not far away diagonally across the main street.

Wen Feng quickened his pace carrying Wen Rusheng and soon reached the other side of the road.

Seeing this, Lin Hao silently followed.

“Is the doctor in? Please examine our master quickly.” As soon as they entered the medical hall, Wen Ping called out.

The doctor was a middle-aged man around forty. Hearing the shout, he walked over: “Isn’t this Master Wen? What happened?”

Wen Feng and his father had rented lodgings here for over a year. With the medical hall so close, they occasionally came for treatment or medicine, naturally becoming familiar faces.