This slap sent Ji Lingzhi’s small body nearly tumbling to the ground.

She covered her face, looking up in shock at the person before her, her body involuntarily shrinking back.

Ji Yinshu rebuked her, “At such a young age, lacking proper discipline—if your father and mother won’t teach you the principles of treating others with kindness, then today I’ll teach you properly myself.”

Her gaze was sharp and severe.

“Don’t think that just because you’re still young, you can speak without restraint. Relying everywhere on the protection your family gives you, acting tyrannical and domineering, doing whatever you please—if no one teaches you properly, won’t acts of murder and arson come easily to hand next? The principles of how to conduct oneself in actions and words—haven’t the masters at the academy taught you these? Do you know that your third brother died precisely because of behavior like this? Do you want to become the next one like him?”

Ah!

Ji Lingzhi covered her burning, aching cheek, utterly frightened.

Her large eyes bulged wide as she stared.

In her impression, Ji Yinshu should have been gentle and weak, someone anyone could bully—how had she become so fierce after just a few months?

She pursed her lips, sniffling, her voice carrying a sobbing tone, “I’m going to tell Father that you hit me.”

“Go ahead.”

Little girl, that old fellow will probably beat you first himself.

Ji Lingzhi cried with extreme heartbreak!

However, in the next instant, Ji Yinshu domineeringly snatched away the cactus she was holding in her hands.

With a wicked raise of her eyebrow, she said, “Don’t you like snatching other people’s things? This cactus looks pretty good—I’m taking it.”

“Give it back to me.”

“Dream on!”

Ji Yinshu took her seized spoils of war and strode away triumphantly.

Behind her came wave after wave of heart-wrenching cries.

Coming out from the Wei residence.

Jingrong was still sitting leisurely in that chair drinking tea, with two respectful servants standing beside him, attending to him as if serving their own parents.

As soon as she emerged, Jingrong rose to meet her, but noticed the two items she was carrying and paused in surprise!

One was an unidentified object wrapped in cloth!

The other was a cactus!

This woman went in just to retrieve these?

She explained, “This is my mother’s memorial tablet. I don’t want to leave her here. As for this cactus, well, I snatched it.”

She raised her proud little eyes.

Snatched it?

“How remarkable—even you, Ji Yinshu, have learned to snatch other people’s things?”

“I have to learn some things eventually. I can’t always let others do the snatching.”

“Those words—this prince likes them. Moreover, this prince’s belongings, no one else should think of snatching.”

Naturally, he was referring to Ji Yinshu herself!

How embarrassing!

Returning to the Wei residence.

At the main gate, Wei Yi sat on the stone steps outside the door, his hands propping up his chin, head lowered looking at his own clean shoes. His toes tapped lightly in rhythm, yet he appeared lost in thought.

“Wei Yi?”

Hearing the voice, he looked up and immediately jumped up, the corners of his mouth stretching into a sunny smile.

“Shu’er.”

“Why are you here?”

“Waiting for you.”

He was always like this!

Ji Yinshu smiled, reached out to pat his head, and handed him the cactus.

He tilted his head, “What’s this?”

“A potted plant. Take it to Uncle Fu and have him care for it properly.”

“Okay.”

He agreed readily.

At this moment, a servant from the Wei residence ran out and bowed respectfully to Jingrong.

“Your Highness, Magistrate Liu from the yamen has arrived and is waiting for you inside.”

Jingrong’s eyes narrowed, “Liu Qingping? What’s he doing here?”

“He brought many gifts.”

“No one visits the temple without a reason!” He complained lightly.

Ji Yinshu then said, “I’ll go check on Uncle Fu.”

“Mm.”

And so they each went their separate ways.

The rear courtyard.

In Uncle Fu’s room.

Muruo had already finished treating the crisscrossing whip wounds on his body, applied medicine, and bandaged everything once over.

“Fortunately, no bones or tendons were injured. Just rest well for several days and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Young Master Muruo.”

“No need for courtesy.” He said, “Uncle Fu, at your advanced age, you still persevere at Yi Zhuang, dealing with those corpses every day. Those people weren’t even acquainted with you, yet you find burial plots for all of them and offer three incense sticks daily. Such dedication makes this younger generation ashamed.”

When put this way, it really was true.

People say those who deal with dead bodies are either coffin makers or bring bad luck—everyone scorns and avoids them, afraid of catching even a bit of ill fortune. Therefore, Uncle Fu had no regular visiting friends and didn’t socialize with people, spending years alone at Yi Zhuang. For corpses sent over from the yamen that went unclaimed, he would use his own resources to find them burial sites, or else cremate them, placing the ashes in urns and stacking them behind Yi Zhuang.

So much so that at night, people passing by would often be scared half to death by those ash urns.

Others performed visible acts of charity for public recognition, but wasn’t what Uncle Fu did equally charitable?

Hearing Muruo’s words, Uncle Fu felt gratified, “Among young people nowadays, very few think like you do.”

Muruo: “It’s only that not everyone in this world sees through to such truths.”

“Well said.”

“By the way, Uncle Fu, don’t you have any family?”

Family?

Uncle Fu’s expression darkened, revealing a trace of desolation.

He sighed, “Dead, all dead.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

Muruo’s hand, which had been writing a prescription, suddenly paused, feeling somewhat apologetic.

“Please don’t take offense.”

“It’s nothing—they’re all old matters from years past anyway.” He seemed to have made peace with it, and looking at Muruo added, “If my son were still alive, he’d be about your age now.”

This piqued Muruo’s curiosity.

“May I ask—what happened to your family?”

Uncle Fu said, “They were burned to death in a great fire. For the white-haired to send off the black-haired—such a tragedy.”

How pitiful!

Muruo didn’t dare ask further, afraid of touching upon his inner wounds.

Before long, Ji Yinshu arrived with Wei Yi.

Seeing Uncle Fu’s complexion had improved considerably, she felt relieved.

“Uncle Fu, rest easy and recover here. The people of the Wei residence will take good care of you—you needn’t worry about anything else.”

“Miss Ji, I truly must thank you. If not for you, at my age, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a few days.”

Before she could speak, Wei Yi interjected.

“That won’t happen—Uncle Fu, you’ll live to be a hundred years old, and besides, you’re such a good person, Heaven will protect you.”

His face was full of conviction.

Uncle Fu looked at him, his eyes involuntarily revealing affectionate indulgence mixed with heartache.

He smiled.

Wei Yi simply sat down by the bedside, “Uncle Fu, you can stay here permanently. Also, Brother Muruo is a divine physician—he’ll definitely cure you.”

“Thank you, Young Master Wei.”

“No need to thank me. Mother said saving one life is better than building a seven-story pagoda. Besides, Uncle Fu, you let us rest at Yi Zhuang yesterday—you’re a good person, and good people receive good rewards.”

Uncle Fu’s eyes brimmed with tears!

He grasped Wei Yi’s hand and patted it gently twice.

“Yes, your mother is right—saving one life is better than building a seven-story pagoda. Your father and mother are both good people.”

“Mm!”

He nodded emphatically.

These words, this scene—caused Ji Yinshu’s thoughts to sink slightly…