In the eighth year of the Chu Rong era’s spring, Huo Xizhou, the legitimate eldest son of the Hexi Grand General’s Manor, faced the first homelessness crisis of his life.

Known as the “Little Tyrant of Hexi,” who had swaggered through the streets of Xiliang dispensing justice for one-tenth of his lifetime, he stumbled on this bright spring day. After leading a gang of his little brothers in a raid on a bandit hideout, he was thrown out by his father.

At seven years old, carrying a burden too heavy for his age, he drooped like a wilted cabbage soaked in saltwater. With his head hung low, he stepped out of the Huo family’s main gate, looked back at the manor’s entrance plaque, and shed tears of regret.

Reflecting on these years, whether beating up local thugs and hooligans or capturing bandits and thieves with his own hands, he had relied on the exquisite martial arts inherited from his father, along with those manor soldiers who went wherever he pointed—mainly the latter—to smoothly eliminate many public menaces.

Only this time, in a moment of carelessness and underestimating the enemy, he hadn’t brought enough people. This caused his followers—the neighbor’s Ergou and Pangwa—to fall into the bandit’s den along with him, nearly losing their young lives…

Regret. Right now, he felt nothing but deep regret.

Wiping away tears, Huo Xizhou walked onto the bustling street, feeling utterly lost and helpless.

The friends who used to cheer him on from the roadside with “Little Huo, Little Huo, blazing through!” now looked at his miserable state, shaking their heads in sympathetic sighs: “Little Huo, Little Huo, disaster’s struck you!”

As the sun set in the west, Huo Xizhou touched his empty belly, pulled out a few coins from his bundle, asked the old man at the steamed bun shop for a basket of soup dumplings, and sat on a long bench swinging his two short legs, listlessly nibbling them one by one.

Ergou and Pangwa came to offer advice: “Doesn’t your father dote on your mother the most? Have your mother help plead your case, and you’ll definitely be able to go home!”

This suggestion certainly had merit.

As was widely known—well, not “widely,” just among his grandfather, grandmother, maternal grandfather, maternal grandmother, maternal uncle, and aunt—in their household, whether matters were big or small, if his father said one and his mother said two, the result would definitely be two.

To what extent did his father dote on his mother? So much so that when others broke their skin, it was just broken skin, but when his mother broke her skin, she was lying in a pool of blood.

Uncle Meng said that when he was still in the womb, there was once when his father was away on official business and heard that his mother had collapsed from heatstroke. He rushed home overnight from several hundred li away, actually running three horses to death.

Having shouldered the burden of three horses’ lives before even being born, no wonder his equestrian skills never progressed smoothly afterward.

After hearing Uncle Meng say that, he increasingly discovered that his father had two sets of standards for everything, presenting completely different faces outside versus at home.

When training troops at the camp, his father strode with a gait that acknowledged no kinship, looking absolutely fierce and menacing. But upon returning home and seeing his mother, his brows would relax, the fierce light in his eyes would vanish, and he would even nestle in his mother’s lap like him, requiring a kiss before he could get up.

When others talked back to his father, that was called great treason and heresy. When his mother talked back to his father, that was called sharp-tongued, clever, lively, and adorable.

Of course, his father wasn’t without moments of being fierce with his mother.

His father would also argue with his mother, but after each argument, he would stand alone ramrod straight facing a wall in a daze, or run circles in the courtyard carrying thorny branches on his back.

When he asked his father what he was doing, his father always said he was strengthening his body and health.

Later, when he read two terms in books—one called “facing the wall in reflection” and another called “bearing thorns to plead guilty”—he knew he had cracked the case.

Given all the above, Ergou and Pangwa’s current suggestion actually hit the bullseye quite accurately.

But the problem was, this time it was truly a case of the house leaking during continuous night rain. His mother had just given birth to a little sister for him a few days ago and was resting in bed. His father had dealt with him with absolute authority, not letting his mother worry about this matter at all, even deceiving his mother by saying he had gone to visit Uncle Meng’s house.

Ergou and Pangwa said: “Then go to your Uncle Meng’s house and find your little cousin Meng!”

Huo Xizhou felt that although Ergou and Pangwa had very ordinary childhood names, their minds were not ordinary at all.

Speaking of this little cousin, she was truly an omnipotent treasure. Both seven years old, he had to squat in horse stance under the blazing sun every day, while his little cousin was the cherished pearl held in everyone’s palm.

He was always unconvinced, until recently when he eavesdropped on the adults, he learned why everyone was especially doting toward his little cousin.

It turned out that his little cousin’s birth was an accident.

Back then, his Uncle Meng, for some grand plan, had abducted his Aunt Shuyi and taken her to hide for more than half a year. When they returned, Aunt Shuyi’s belly had swelled up.

The adults said that his little cousin came into this world because Uncle Meng and Aunt Shuyi accidentally drank wine together and became muddled.

He didn’t understand what this meant, only knowing that at the time, Uncle Meng wanted to marry Aunt Shuyi, but Aunt Shuyi didn’t want to marry him. Behind Uncle Meng’s back, she secretly took some medicine to not have the little cousin, but unexpectedly, the little cousin had great fortune and destiny, and still remained.

When Uncle Meng found out, he was very angry and had a big fight with Aunt Shuyi. Aunt Shuyi had no choice but to give birth to the little cousin.

But the little cousin was really too adorably pretty. Aunt Shuyi, sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, said she wouldn’t acknowledge or care for the little cousin, but in her heart felt the little cousin was pitiable. Gradually, even looking at Uncle Meng became more pleasant.

When the little cousin was almost one year old, Aunt Shuyi and Uncle Meng finally became as loving as his father and mother.

Aunt Shuyi deeply regretted doing bad things to the little cousin before, and Uncle Meng also felt he was at fault. The two of them desperately tried to make it up to the little cousin together.

The other adults who knew about this matter naturally also spoiled the little cousin to the heavens.

Therefore, in this household, there was no path his little cousin couldn’t navigate.

Although Huo Xizhou felt that as a dignified man, relying on a little girl for help was somewhat embarrassing, when he thought about how his father also had no face in front of his mother, he felt much more comfortable. Shouldering his small bundle with righteous confidence, he headed toward Uncle Meng’s house.

When he arrived, Uncle Meng and Aunt Shuyi were fighting.

This wasn’t anything surprising. Anyway, every time he saw Uncle Meng and Aunt Shuyi, they were either arguing or fighting. Each time, his little cousin would cheer from the sidelines, telling him that her father and mother said—fighting shows affection, scolding shows love; without fighting or scolding, one ages too quickly.

This time was no different. His little cousin was clapping and watching the show at the training ground. Seeing him arrive, she even invited him to pull up a small stool and watch the match with her, guessing who would win.

In this situation, if it were in his house, his mother would definitely win.

But in his little cousin’s house, it wasn’t necessarily so.

As far as he knew, Aunt Shuyi didn’t like Uncle Meng holding back, so Uncle Meng had no choice but to go all out.

He just watched helplessly as Uncle Meng and Aunt Shuyi battled for three hundred rounds, fighting inseparably. Finally, it ended in a draw with Uncle Meng using a rake to pin Aunt Shuyi to the ground, while Aunt Shuyi held an iron rod against Uncle Meng’s neck.

Only after the two had fought to a conclusion did they remember to greet him. He explained the whole story, saying he wanted to borrow his little cousin.

Hearing how pitiful he was, his little cousin immediately wanted to help him plead his case.

But Uncle Meng said no, it was too late. His little Jiaojiao couldn’t go out—wait until tomorrow.

His little cousin comforted him, first taking him to eat delicious food, then playing double-six dice with him, molding clay figurines, and flying bamboo dragonflies.

After one night passed, he suddenly understood—were the dishes at Uncle Meng’s house not delicious, or was his little cousin not fun to play with? Why did he need to go home?

He didn’t want to leave anymore, and just played with his little cousin for three days like this.

Three days later, the main gate of Uncle Meng’s house resounded with a tremendous crash. He saw his father, carrying a blade and seething with fury, charge in.