Chu Tang had already heard about Prince Zhongshan’s heir from Chu Ke.
Chu Zhao ran too fast to catch up with, so they asked Prince Zhongshan to help intercept her, and thus became acquainted with Prince Zhongshan’s heir, who even traveled back to the capital with them.
The Prince was young and talented, refined and elegant. Chu Ke traveled the entire way with him, discussing heaven and earth, poetry and philosophy, conversing delightfully, kindred spirits appreciating each other—of course, this was all according to Chu Ke himself. Chu Tang let it go in one ear and out the other, not taking it seriously.
However, when Chu Ke said Chu Zhao was crude and displeased Prince Zhongshan’s heir, she did believe that—with Chu Zhao’s talents and appearance, well, mediocre talents and mediocre birth, Prince Zhongshan’s heir wouldn’t like her either.
But now, looking at Chu Zhao like this, did she dislike or like Prince Zhongshan’s heir?
Chu Tang didn’t directly ask about the Prince, only caring about Chu Zhao, asking sincerely: “What is it? Zhao, just say it. As long as I can help.”
Chu Zhao raised her head and smiled: “Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking about some past matters between the Prince and me.”
There were even past matters? Chu Tang didn’t show curiosity but instead looked somewhat uneasy, moving closer to sit beside her and asking in a low voice: “Is it good or bad for us? Did he come today to assign blame?”
“Really, don’t just think about that. I’m talking about past matters,” Chu Zhao complained.
If Chu Tang pretended not to be curious, she would pretend to want to confide. Wasn’t this just using pretense to make people trust you more? Who couldn’t do that?
In that previous life, Xiao Xun pretended deep affection toward her, the consorts pretended respect toward her. Even if she didn’t use pretense herself, she had learned it by watching.
Chu Tang grasped her hand, expressing apology: “I’m timid and afraid something will happen to the family. I know the Prince escorted you back. Is this Prince a good person?”
“I don’t know if he’s good or not, but he’s quite arrogant,” Chu Zhao said. “When I was on the road, I went to the river to fetch water and accidentally fell in. He saved me.”
This had happened? Chu Ke hadn’t mentioned it. Chu Tang was shocked—a life-saving debt!
“He saved me, fine,” Chu Zhao snorted. “I didn’t need him to save me. In the wilderness, no one else saw it either. He shouldn’t use this life-saving debt to threaten me—I won’t acknowledge it.”
After speaking, she stood up and left, leaving Chu Tang completely bewildered, her heart suspended in mid-air.
What was this about?
……
……
Chu Tang brought her maid Linglang to her father’s study. Both parents were there, along with the steward. The three were whispering about something, speaking quite animatedly. As soon as Chu Tang entered, the voices stopped abruptly.
“Miss Tang,” the steward said with a smile and a bow.
Since getting busy with Chu Garden matters, Chu Tang rarely came to her parents. Chu Lan and Jiang Shi naturally didn’t blame her and were happy to see their daughter.
“Have you eaten? Have you drunk anything?” Jiang Shi pulled her daughter to sit beside her. “Look, you’ve gotten thinner from exhaustion.”
“I’ve eaten and drunk. Now your daughter is like the mistress of a household—no worries about food and drink, well attended to,” Chu Tang said, holding Jiang Shi’s arm. “Your daughter has worked hard and finally understands Mother’s hardships. From now on, your daughter will never let Mother worry.”
Jiang Shi exclaimed: “Tang has never made me worry!”
Chu Tang looked at her father: “Father, the garden is full of talk that Prince Zhongshan’s heir came. If there’s anything, don’t hide it from me.”
Chu Lan laughed heartily: “Tang doesn’t need to worry. It’s a good thing.”
Chu Tang didn’t believe it: “Father only reports good news and not bad. I don’t believe it.”
Chu Lan glanced outside. The steward understood: “Master, you talk. I’ll keep watch outside.”
After speaking, he withdrew together with Linglang, personally guarding the door.
“The Prince came to discuss with me how to resolve the predicament between us and the Third Prince,” Chu Lan said with a smile. “I thought of a good idea—have Zhao fall into the water and claim illness, so the Chu Garden literary gathering can end.”
Listening to her father’s words and knowing how to pick out what to listen to, Chu Tang immediately understood this idea was Prince Zhongshan heir’s. Falling into water—
“Publicly claiming she fell into the water and got sick probably won’t work, will it?” she said with a frown.
Chu Lan laughed heartily. His daughter was so clever!
“You think the same as the Prince,” he couldn’t help but speak the truth, then coughed lightly. “But don’t worry. Your father has thought it through—we’ll have her fall into the water before everyone’s eyes. That way no one will question it.”
Chu Tang was stunned, looking thoughtful: “Before everyone’s eyes.”
“Yes,” Jiang Shi smiled, stroking her daughter’s arm. “Your father, the steward, and I have all arranged it. We’ll loosen a foothold by the lake, then lure her over there, and she’ll step into emptiness and fall into the water—”
Chu Lan said in a low voice: “This matter must be kept extremely secret. Tang, you mustn’t speak of it.”
“What are you saying? Is Tang the kind of child who doesn’t know what’s important?” Jiang Shi said with displeasure, then added, “Tang came at just the right time. She can help too. Have Tang lure Zhao over there?”
Now it was Chu Lan’s turn to be displeased: “How can we have our daughter do such a thing? Afterward she’ll surely be resented by Zhao.”
His daughter was too precious.
Such things should be done by servant women and underlings.
Jiang Shi nodded repeatedly: “I was confused. Tang, you don’t need to worry about anything. Just pretend you don’t know about this matter.”
Looking again at Chu Tang, she seemed to be distracted. Only when called did she look over.
She had no particular thoughts about her parents’ arrangements and only asked: “When Zhao falls into the water, will Prince Zhongshan’s heir be present?”
Chu Lan nodded: “Of course.” His expression carried a few traces of pride. “I must have the Prince witness my sincerity with his own eyes.”
After hearing this, Chu Tang took her leave, no longer disturbing her parents’ important matter. She didn’t return to Chu Garden either, but went back to her own courtyard.
Linglang dismissed the crowding maids and personally brought a bowl of tea. Looking at Chu Tang’s thoughtful expression, she asked in a low voice: “Miss, do you think something isn’t quite right?”
Chu Tang nodded: “Of course it’s not right. Father and Mother think very simply. This matter is definitely not that simple. I don’t believe others would be good to our family for no reason—they must have ulterior motives.”
Linglang was somewhat nervous: “What motives?”
Chu Tang said faintly: “Chu Zhao?”
Linglang was startled and blinked: “What? Miss, what do you mean?”
Chu Tang said: “I don’t know what it means either, but one thing is certain—the Prince’s action is for Chu Zhao’s sake, not for my family, much less for Father and Mother’s predicament.”
Linglang was somewhat troubled: “What does this Prince really mean? The master and mistress can’t say clearly either. We don’t know anything.”
Chu Tang laughed instead: “Not knowing anything, we can still do things. We only need to know who the matter concerns.”
Linglang asked nervously: “Then what should we do?”
But Chu Tang didn’t say more, propping her chin on her hand: “I need to think this through carefully.”
……
……
The lamplight was dim. The day’s excitement at Chu Garden had drawn to a close. After eating and washing up, Chu Zhao sat at her desk while a young maid fumigated her hair.
A’Le came in from outside: “Little Die, let me do it.”
The young maid responded, and Chu Zhao picked up a plate of snacks from the table: “Take these and share them with your companions.”
The young maid happily responded and left carrying the snacks.
“Miss,” A’Le said with a worried brow, “A’Le is incompetent. I couldn’t find out what the Prince and the master and mistress are secretly plotting.”
Chu Zhao patted her hand: “How can this be your incompetence? Don’t worry.”
A’Le was helpless: “How can I not worry? It must be detrimental to Miss. How should we respond?”
Chu Zhao smiled and blinked: “Believe it or not, someone will respond for me.”
A’Le naturally believed Miss’s words.
“Who?” she asked curiously. “When did Miss arrange this? Besides me, there are actually people in the household who are good to Miss?”
Chu Zhao smiled: “Sometimes people who aren’t good to you can also help.”
A’Le understood: “Miss means some people don’t want to see Miss do well, so they’ll do certain things, and these things will happen to be just as Miss wishes.”
Chu Zhao nodded with a smile: “A’Le is really smart.”
A’Le sighed: “What’s smart about this? It’s just that human hearts are sinister. Miss, don’t forget—I’ve been stealing and deceiving since I was four or five years old. I’m not a good person either.”
If not for the General and Miss restraining her all these years, who knows what she would have become.
Chu Zhao reached out to cup A’Le’s face: “A’Le has a kind heart. She can act like a villain, but can’t do villainous deeds.”
A’Le smiled and pulled down Chu Zhao’s hands: “Miss, stop always saying nice things to praise me. Tell me what else you need me to do.”
“You’re the most crucial,” Chu Zhao said. “The final success or failure of this matter depends on you.”
A’Le quickly leaned in. The two girls whispered under the lamplight, discussing how to get through this crisis, how to use villainous hearts to achieve their wishes. Inside the room was dim, and the two girls’ eyes and brows were also veiled in a dim yellow glow.
In the night far from the capital, flames rose up, illuminating the foot of the mountain bright as day.
Chaotic cries and shouts pierced the sky.
Countless shadows danced and ran in the night—more than half in the firelight, more than half outside it.
The flames devoured everything. Water poured over had no effect but instead enraged the fire, making the flames blaze even more fiercely, viciously licking at those who rushed in.
That person didn’t retreat. His body covered in a wet quilt, he ran through the firelight trying to rescue people. There were too many people, cries everywhere.
He grabbed one person and pulled—an arm came off. The person missing an arm was burned and stuck to the ground, waving the other arm and continuing to cry out—
They could no longer leave this place.
The wet quilt on his body was also gradually being baked dry, becoming aggressive. It was no longer protecting him but wanted to keep him there like the fire, turning him into charred ash and rotted flesh.
He looked at the dancing shadows all around, his ears filled with cries. Finally, he also looked up and screamed miserably, enduring the fire’s licking and reaching through the flames to grab an unconscious child, hugging him to his chest and charging outward.
Far beyond the great fire stood a circle of people forming a wall. The heat rising from the fire scorched even those on this side until they felt they might burn, but there was no need to fear—all the grass, trees, and buildings on this side had been torn down, the ground nearly scraped bare of its skin. Without fuel, even if sparks flew over, they couldn’t ignite.
Hearing that miserable scream from within the fire, the people who had been quietly watching changed their expressions.
“Quickly go rescue the young master!” A steward wearing dark brocade robes said with a ferocious expression. “If anything happens to the young master, none of you will live!”
Running in meant death; staying here also meant death. But if they ran in and died, their families and wives and children could still receive compensation and support. A group of people gritted their teeth and charged toward the fire—even if they had to roll their bodies to smother the flames, they would rescue the young master.
Before they rushed into the fire, a figure rushed out from the great fire, fell to the ground rolling, the flames on his body sending up a shower of sparks.
“Young Master!”
Everyone was overjoyed, beating at the person with brooms in their hands. Water poured over. The burning fire was quickly extinguished.
The young master on the ground had his clothes burned away, revealing fair shoulders and back dotted with blisters.
His face was undamaged, but his eyes were tightly shut. He curled up on the ground, emitting violent coughs, his voice hoarse.
“Young Master Yanlai!” The steward rushed over, shouting excitedly, “Doctor, come quickly.”
The doctor had been waiting and rushed over to turn over the curled-up young master. Only then did they see the young master was still hiding a seven or eight-year-old child in his embrace.
“Save him, save him,” the young master coughed and shouted hoarsely.
A group of people had risked their lives to save the young master, but at this moment no one listened to the young master’s words. They all stood unmoving. The doctor didn’t move either. They all turned to look at the steward.
The steward’s face was dark. He glanced at this unconscious seven or eight-year-old boy and finally nodded, pointing at a young man beside him.
“You take care of him,” he said.
The young man reached out to take the child from the young master’s embrace. With this taking, the child became his rescue.
The young master showed no reluctance, closing his eyes and releasing his hold.
That young man, holding the child and loudly calling for a doctor, hurried away—when the Xie clan’s merchant caravan traveled, they didn’t bring just one doctor.
Only then did the doctor here continue examining the young master. Fortunately, aside from some burns, there were no major injuries.
The steward, who had been very worried, breathed a sigh of relief, his voice heavy and angry: “Young Master Yanlai, your drunkenness this time has caused great trouble.”
Xie Yanlai lay on the ground. After the child was carried away, his entire being seemed hollowed out. He let the doctor cut away the remnants of his clothing, wash and apply medicine, not making a sound no matter how much it hurt.
Hearing the steward’s reproach, his face pressed against the ground, he opened his eyes slightly to look, letting out a hoarse laugh: “Do you need my life to atone for this disaster? Take it then.”
The steward’s gaze in the firelight was pitying, his voice carrying affection: “For disasters and crimes, there is Third Young Master. How could we bear to take Ninth Young Master’s life?”