Uncle Fu’s room.

A maid was just carrying freshly brewed medicine, about to enter, when Ji Yinshu intercepted her. She set the lantern on the ground to one side, then took the medicine bowl.

She said, “You go rest. I’ll take the medicine to Uncle Fu. If there’s nothing else, don’t come back in.”

“Yes!”

The maid curtsied and left.

Only after the maid had left the courtyard did Ji Yinshu carry the medicine inside, her expression indifferent, revealing no emotion.

After entering, she closed the door.

Uncle Fu had just gotten out of bed, wearing a thin robe, his steps labored as he walked over from the bedside, puzzled in his heart.

Why close the door out of nowhere?

“Master Ji, what is this about?” he asked.

Ji Yinshu simply sat down quietly, changing the subject. “Uncle Fu, you should drink the medicine while it’s hot.”

She placed the medicine bowl on the table, and at the same time, set down the painting she had brought with her.

When he saw that scroll painting, Uncle Fu’s eyes clearly darkened, and an almost imperceptible trace of pain flashed across his face, though it vanished in an instant.

Such expressions and such looks—all were caught by Ji Yinshu’s observant eyes.

Uncle Fu walked over and sat down, pressing his chest and coughing twice before extending his wrinkled, calloused hands to lift the medicine bowl and drink it down.

At the same time, Ji Yinshu across from him said, “Wei Yi grew up in Jinjiang from childhood. Though his mind is not like ordinary people’s, fortunately Wei’s father and mother protected him well, teaching him to have more kindness and goodwill than ordinary people. He even knows how to be considerate of others. Though raised in comfort and privilege from childhood, he has no sense of entitlement. Those who are clever from youth and full of arrogance cannot match even half of him. Even toward someone like Uncle Fu whom he doesn’t know, he shows great concern, instructing everyone in the household to care for you well. He even said he wants to keep you in the residence to look after you for the rest of your life. Such a heart is truly rare.”

Uncle Fu set down the empty bowl, revealing a gratified smile, agreeing. “Yes, Young Master Wei truly has a kind heart, showing such attentive concern even for an old fellow like me. I don’t know what blessings I cultivated in my past life to meet Young Master Wei. I believe good people receive good rewards. In the future, Young Master Wei will surely rise like a carp leaping through the dragon gate, achieving great wealth and status.”

Ji Yinshu smiled faintly. “That day at Yi Zhuang, when you saw Wei Yi, you were clearly different toward him than toward others. In your eyes, there was even a trace of doting affection and loving kindness. Those who didn’t know might think you two were blood relatives!”

“Young Master Wei has a noble status, while I’m merely a rough man guarding Yi Zhuang, of lowly status. How could I be related to Young Master Wei? Master Ji, aren’t you joking?”

“The noble status you refer to—what do you mean by that?”

“A vast disparity in status.”

Vast disparity in status!

Hearing these four words, Ji Yinshu’s heart ached.

Her index finger tapped on the tabletop again and again, then she slowly rose and walked to the window, pushing open the tightly closed shutters.

Cold wind blew in wave after wave, carrying fine rain that splashed against her already icy cheeks, making them even colder.

Outside, the shadow of the large tree cast mottled patterns on the ground, the windowsill, and on her body, swaying and flickering, appearing and disappearing.

After a long while, with her back to Uncle Fu, she asked, “Uncle Fu, have you ever been to the capital?”

Uncle Fu sighed and shook his head. “The capital—I did go there once, but that was twenty years ago. I don’t remember much of it.”

“Oh?” She turned her head slightly, her peripheral vision slanting over, then shifted her gaze back to the tree outside. “Then let me help you remember. Twenty years ago, the late emperor passed away, and the new emperor ascended the throne with the reign name Qizhen—the current Great Lin Emperor. I heard that before his enthronement, he was merely an unremarkable Eighth Prince. The heir the late emperor had chosen was Prince Ning at the time. But Prince Ning disliked conflict, so he yielded the position of Crown Prince to the Eighth Prince. After the Eighth Prince ascended the throne, he enfeoffed Prince Ning as Duke Yuguo.”

“Ah, us common people can’t worry about affairs of the imperial family. What Eighth Prince? What Duke Yuguo? They’re completely unrelated to us—eight poles couldn’t reach them. We common folk only chat about idle family matters over tea. And I’ve stayed at Yi Zhuang year-round, never mind casual conversation—I know even less about imperial affairs.”

“Since that’s the case, why don’t I tell you about it? We’re bored anyway, might as well pass the time. It’s just that these matters I’ve pieced together from what I’ve heard here and there. If I say something wrong, just listen and don’t take it too deeply to heart.”

Hearing these words, Uncle Fu probably understood somewhat in his heart.

His aged hands gripped tighter and tighter!

When Ji Yinshu received no response from him for a long time, she began speaking on her own. “This story must begin with the late emperor. I heard that when the late emperor ascended the throne, fearing his blood brother the Marquis of Chao might rebel, he fabricated charges against him and had him executed. And sometimes, history is remarkably similar. When the current emperor ascended the throne twenty years ago, many court officials suffered imprisonment—dismissed if fortunate, executed if not. Nearly all those with contrary intentions were charged with crimes. After Prince Ning was enfeoffed as Duke Yuguo, he was like a tiger fitted with chains, kept at Emperor Qizhen’s side. Duke Yuguo feared he would meet the same fate as the late Marquis of Chao, killed by his own brother. So from the day Emperor Qizhen ascended the throne, he made his plans early.

“In secret, he had the newborn young heir and the Third Madam sent away from the capital through outside relatives. But no one expected that shortly after leaving the capital, the Third Madam would fall ill and die on the road. That person could only continue on with the infant heir who wasn’t yet a month old. Unexpectedly, by chance, they encountered a wealthy family whose newborn son had just died. When that madam saw the young heir, she loved him dearly. And for the young heir’s true safety, that person could only deceive everyone, including Duke Yuguo himself. Therefore, he entrusted the young heir to that family and never contacted them again. But all this time, he never left that place, often going secretly to visit the young heir, only feeling reassured when he saw him growing up healthy day by day. But who could have imagined that only six years after this, the Duke Yuguo’s residence caught fire. In one night, all seventy-two people perished in the flames. No one knows what exactly happened that night. And no one knows whether it truly was Emperor Qizhen… emulating the late emperor.”

Ah!

Emulating the late emperor!

What grave words she used!

The late emperor, to consolidate his throne, did not hesitate to kill his blood brother the Marquis of Chao.

Then, did Emperor Qizhen truly also kill Duke Yuguo to consolidate his throne?

No one knew the truth!

And from beginning to end, when Ji Yinshu spoke these words, she never once turned to look at Uncle Fu.

In her ears, besides the wind gradually rolling in through the window, she could faintly hear soft sobbing sounds coming from behind her…