Song Mo had no recollection of how he made his way back.

While traveling through Xinglong, he received the news of his mother’s passing.

For six days and five nights, he had rushed home, day and night.

His guards had fallen far behind, with only Yu Jian keeping pace.

The moment he dismounted, his legs buckled. If it hadn’t been for Yu Jian and the steward on duty at the entrance who caught him, he might have collapsed to the ground.

“Your Highness, Your Highness!” The air was filled with choked voices, a mix of joy at his return and relief.

Tears welled in Song Mo’s eyes as he hurried toward the mourning hall, following the procession of funeral banners.

“Brother!” Song Han, dressed in mourning clothes, threw himself into Song Mo’s arms, his voice filled with fear and reproach. “Why did you take so long to come back?”

“It’s my fault!” Song Mo embraced his younger brother, tears streaming from his bloodshot eyes. “It’s all my fault… I came back late…”

Song Han began to cry loudly, “Brother, brother!”

Holding his brother’s hand, Song Mo knelt before their mother’s spirit.

“Mother, I’m back!” He bowed three times, his face wet with tears.

Someone approached, saying, “Tian Ci, put on your mourning clothes.”

It was his elder cousin, Song Qin’s voice.

Song Yichun had always taken good care of the family. He had secured a position for his elder cousin, Song Maochun, as a clerk at the Linheng Bureau in the Xilin Garden. After a few years, he managed to oust the bureau chief, allowing Song Maochun to take over. His younger cousin, Song Fengchun, served as a deputy at the Taxation Office in Chongwenmen, while another cousin, Song Tongchun, held a deputy position in the Yiziku of the Imperial Granary.

Although the bureau chief was a respectable eighth-rank official, the deputy positions at the Taxation Office and the Imperial Granary were less prestigious, they were still lucrative. The Linheng Bureau handled tribute fruit, the Taxation Office collected city wine taxes, and the Yiziku managed military supplies like padded jackets, boots, and soldier hats. Though their official ranks were low, they were all members of the Song clan, and even the ministers and lesser officials would treat them with some respect. Any benefits from above would not be overlooked, and with ancestral land passed down, their lives were undoubtedly comfortable.

Thus, Song Yichun held great prestige in the Song family; it would not be an exaggeration to say his word was law.

Song Qin was seven years older than Song Mo and had married in the spring of the previous year.

Before the marriage, Song Maochun had brought his son to see Song Yichun, hoping he could secure a good position for him. However, Song Yichun had scolded him, saying, “Short-sighted! Jing Zhi has already passed the provincial examination and is on the verge of qualifying as a graduate. He should focus entirely on his studies! If he can become a scholar, I can speak on his behalf even before the Emperor. I should at least secure him a proper seventh-rank position at the construction office, or at least an eighth-rank position as a clerk in the guard office!

That future is far better than yours! He shouldn’t end up like you, spending his life as a lowly clerk! If Jing Zhi isn’t fortunate enough to pass the examination by thirty, then we can look for a position for him.” He added, “Our family is small; we must stick together. Even if Tian Ci has three heads and six arms, without blood relatives to support him, it’s all in vain. Don’t be content with small gains; if you can help the children take a step up, you must do everything you can to help them advance!”

Song Maochun was deeply grateful, thanking him repeatedly.

Even Song Qin felt immense gratitude, believing his second uncle treated him sincerely.

Having always regarded Song Mo and Song Han as brothers, he became even closer to them.

The death of Jiang Shi was a significant event for the Song family, akin to half of a grand building collapsing. Everyone in the family came to help, and Song Qin took the lead, hardly sleeping during the first seven days, only managing to catch a few hours of rest in the last couple of days.

Song Mo, in a daze, allowed Song Qin to help him into his mourning clothes.

Noticing how thin and exhausted Song Mo looked, Song Qin supported him, saying, “You should wash your face first! Your second uncle has been in the inner room; you need to see him.”

Just then, Song Duo, Song Qin’s younger brother, walked in.

He was four years older than Song Mo and, like all second sons, had a lively personality.

Seeing Song Mo, he called out, “Tian Ci! You should take a break! The deceased has passed; you need to take care of yourself. There are still many matters awaiting you!”

Song Mo was taken aback by his words, “The deceased has passed.” If it weren’t for the overwhelming sorrow in his heart, he might have smiled.

Seeing the weariness on both his cousins’ faces, he knew they had been helping a lot these days. He grasped Song Duo’s shoulder and looked at Song Qin, saying, “Thank you.”

“We’re brothers; there’s no need for such words!” Song Qin replied humbly.

Song Mo nodded.

Song Han tugged at his brother’s sleeve, “Brother, I want to go with you.”

The death of their mother must have frightened his eight-year-old brother, who still wanted to sleep beside her!

A flash of pity crossed his mind as he thought of their father in their mother’s room. If his brother left, there would be no one to express gratitude to, so he steeled his heart and whispered to Song Han, “We can’t leave Mother alone; I’ll be right back!”

Song Han nodded through his tears, repeatedly urging his brother, “You must come back quickly! You must come back quickly!”

“I will!” Song Mo patted Song Han’s head and was about to return to Yi Zhi Tang when he ran into his father’s attendant, Lu Zheng.

“Your Highness,” Lu Zheng began to tear up upon seeing Song Mo, “You’re finally back! Duke hasn’t eaten or drunk anything these past few days; we’ve all been worried sick. I heard you were back, so I came to take you to the main hall!”

Recalling Song Qin’s words, Song Mo didn’t hesitate and immediately followed Lu Zheng to the main hall.

Song Yichun sat cross-legged on the kang by the window in the inner room, and the furnishings were just as they had been during Jiang Shi’s lifetime. Even the cosmetics on the vanity were arranged as Jiang Shi had preferred, with an ivory comb inlaid with gold filigree casually left on the table.

Song Mo’s eyes reddened, and his vision blurred, but he heard his father’s somewhat hoarse voice: “You’re back! How did it go? Your mother was concerned about this matter while she was alive!”

“I met with the King of Liao,” Song Mo replied respectfully, bowing to his father. At his father’s gesture, he sat across from him. “The King of Liao was already aware of the Jiang family’s situation. After San Jiu’s condition worsened, it was still the King of Liao who helped summon the doctor—we underestimated his intentions.”

Song Yichun nodded slightly, sighing, “If only your mother had heard this news while she was alive!” He added, “You should report this to your mother’s spirit later.”

Song Mo nodded in agreement.

Song Yichun scrutinized his travel-worn son and said, “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? I’ll have the kitchen prepare something for you. You should clean yourself up as well; your mother loved beauty. If she saw you like this, she would be heartbroken!”

Tears streamed down Song Mo’s face as he lowered his head and replied, “Yes.”

Lu Zheng came to assist him with bathing, and afterward, a maid reported that the meal had been prepared by the Duke’s instructions in the inner room.

“The Duke must want to talk to you!” Lu Zheng said sadly, “He hasn’t been well these past few days!”

Hearing this made Song Mo even more sorrowful.

On the kang table by the window in the inner room lay several vegetarian dishes, a large plate of steamed buns, and a big bowl of plain noodles.

“Eat up!” Song Yichun sat beside his son, watching him eat quickly, though his movements still retained a certain elegance.

“In the blink of an eye, you’ve grown up,” he remarked, a hint of nostalgia flashing in his eyes. “I’m getting old!”

Song Mo remained silent.

He was not one to comfort others. He couldn’t help but think: if Tian En were here, it would be wonderful. Tian En always knew how to make people laugh. Throughout his life, whenever Tian En was around, there was never a dull moment.

He quietly continued his meal.

Song Yichun sat quietly, watching his son eat.

The room was silent, only the gentle clinking of porcelain could be heard, enhancing the tranquility of the space.

Once Song Mo finished eating, the maids brought water for him to wash his hands and served his usual tea before quietly retreating.

Song Yichun gazed at Song Mo, his expression complex, yet he remained silent.

Song Mo patiently waited, calm and composed.

A flicker of something unusual crossed Song Yichun’s eyes.

He spoke in a low voice, “Do you remember your mother’s headmaid, Mei Rui?”

“I remember,” Song Mo replied, unsure why his father suddenly mentioned his mother’s maid, but he answered calmly, “She was the most capable maid by my mother’s side.”

“After your mother passed, I planned to wait until the mourning period was over before releasing all those who served her,” Song Yichun said, lifting his teacup, his eyelids drooping as his gaze fell on the green tea leaves floating like little boats in the cup. “But on the night of the second week, Mei Rui suddenly committed suicide by crashing into a pillar before your mother’s spirit.”

Song Mo’s expression changed slightly.

“Fortunately, it was evening, and there weren’t many people around. Lu Zheng handled it well, so the matter didn’t spread widely,” Song Yichun continued. “I had all the people who served your mother detained.” He paused, suddenly raising his gaze to meet Song Mo’s, his eyes sharp as swords. “Guess what Lu Zheng discovered?” Before Song Mo could respond, Song Yichun’s face turned ashen as he continued, “That maid was four months pregnant and already showing!”

“How is that possible?” Song Mo exclaimed, unable to hide his shock.

The child wasn’t his father’s. Otherwise, given his mother’s nature, she would have made arrangements before her death, and his father wouldn’t need to explain this to him, nor would he be so furious.

Though his mother was strict, perhaps influenced by the Jiang family, she was not a rigid or cruel person. If Mei Rui had feelings for someone, given how much his mother favored her, she could have simply told her without resorting to such disgraceful actions.

Whose child was it?

If this matter got out, his mother’s reputation would surely be tarnished.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes as he heard his father’s voice: “Lu Zheng searched her room and found several pieces of this year’s newly submitted silk from Jiangnan, along with some exquisitely crafted ornaments. Among them was a jade pendant, intricately carved from fine Hetian jade, adorned with cloud patterns on all sides, with a soaring rock in the center…”

Song Mo was stunned.

When he was born, his grandfather had given him a pendant just like that!

It was said to have been passed down from the Song family’s ancestors.

Song Yichun was now furious: “Abomination! Look at the good you’ve done!” He raised his hand and slapped it toward Song Mo!