Lu Bing knew when to quit while ahead, taking away the severely injured and unconscious Ding Wu along with the others. He didn’t dare leave Ding Wu in the neighboring estate—if Yan Shifan repeated his old tricks and learned his fire-fighting act, bursting in to snatch away Ding Wu, tonight’s efforts by Lu Ying and the other two would be completely wasted.

The Jinyiwei stationed by the moat indeed discovered a suspicious person. This person appeared just as curfew was about to begin—when the mischievous children swimming in the moat were being dragged home by their ears by their mothers, and the bustling river surface that looked like dumplings being dropped into boiling water had returned to calm. He was carrying a burlap sack on his back.

The man entered the river with the sack and was captured by the stationed Jinyiwei just as he was untying the rope sealing the bag.

This person was a death warrior. He bit through a medicine pouch hidden in his collar, bleeding from all seven orifices and foaming at the mouth before dying.

The Jinyiwei opened the sack, and a stench of alcohol and decay hit them in the face. The person inside had half a rotting face.

It was the dead Wu Mask.

By the time Lu Bing’s group reached the moat outside Zhengyang Gate, Wu Mask’s corpse was laid out by the roadside. Fellow Jinyiwei had bought paper money, paper ingots of gold and silver, and other funeral items, already burning a pile of black ash.

Though they had anticipated this, everyone was still shocked to see Wu Mask’s body. Lu Bing led by dismounting, and everyone else followed suit.

After a moment of silence, Lu Ying said, “Father, you should return to headquarters to rest. I’ll take the body back to Wu Mask’s home.”

Lu Bing had just recovered from his stroke and couldn’t afford to exhaust himself staying up all night again.

Lu Bing knew his physical condition and couldn’t push himself. He asked, “Do you know what to tell Wu Mask’s family?”

Lu Ying initially wanted to say she’d tell the truth, but thinking of Yan Shifan’s terrifying methods, Wu Mask’s angry and grieving family would likely try to fight back like eggs against stones, shattering themselves to pieces.

Lu Ying bit her lip, her upper teeth almost drawing blood from her lower lip, finally saying, “Death by accidental drowning while intoxicated.”

After saying this, Lu Ying slapped herself hard across the face. She was about to slap herself again when Wang Daxia grabbed her arm to stop her, saying:

“This isn’t Commander Lu’s fault. With my fearless personality, I was terrified by Minister Yan tonight. I’m a chiliarch’s son—if Minister Yan wanted to crush me, or even my father, it would be like crushing an ant, let alone Wu Mask’s family. If it’s to protect them, there’s nothing shameful about lying. Let me make this trip for Commander Lu and explain to Wu Mask’s family.”

Lu Ying had returned to dive and rescue him, and had protected him during Yan Shifan’s interrogation. Wang Daxia had been won over by Lu Ying and was willing to take the blame for her.

Lu Ying shook him off. “You’re covered in injuries—go back first. I’ll take Wu Mask home. That’s settled.”

Lu Bing looked at the teeth marks on his daughter’s lower lip with great distress, but there was no helping it. She had chosen to love military attire over beautiful clothes, unwilling to be a pampered young lady waiting for marriage in a wealthy family’s inner chambers. She was destined to face the cruelty of her growth journey. Wu Mask’s death was only the beginning—more bitter struggles awaited her.

He was old and had suffered consecutive strokes. He couldn’t shelter her from wind and rain forever. She had to learn to fly on her own.

Lu Bing mounted his horse. “Leave ten men to escort Wu Mask home. The rest follow me back.”

Wei Caiwei crouched beside Wu Mask’s corpse, silently facing his ugly face. Like her family members, he too was a victim of Yan Shifan. They were all as small as ants, unable to shake the elephant that was Yan Shifan.

Dealing with Yan Shifan wasn’t suitable for the swift revenge approach used to kill Chen Qianhu and his son. Yan Shifan was protected by layers of death warriors—court forces had to be borrowed to bring him down.

“Let’s go,” Wang Daxia said.

Wei Caiwei remained silent, boarding the carriage. She feared that once she spoke, the hatred suppressed for ten years would spill out uncontrollably.

The city gates had closed, and curfew had begun within the city.

But who was Lu Bing? One command from him opened the city gates. Starting from the bridge barriers at the moat, the outer gates, inner gates, barbican gates—each opened in sequence to let Lu Bing enter the city.

Lu Bing’s nighttime gate-knocking would certainly result in censors submitting memorials criticizing him tomorrow, but whenever Emperor Jiajing received memorials criticizing Lu Bing, he would retain them without response. Lu Bing was frequently criticized anyway—when you have many lice, you don’t itch; when you have many debts, you don’t worry.

Lu Ying took Wu Mask’s body to his home in Broom Alley. His family was still waiting for Wu Mask to return home for the Dragon Boat Festival, thinking he was delayed by work duties, not expecting this to be their final parting.

The old mother at home fainted upon seeing her son’s corpse. Lu Ying and her subordinates helped Wu Mask’s son set up a mourning tent and arrange the funeral through the night until dawn.

Returning to Jinyiwei headquarters, the first thing Lu Bing had to do was carry Ding Wu to the underground death row.

For safety, there were no lights in Ding Rukui’s cell either. For ten years, he had lived by the sun’s schedule, but tonight Ding Rukui hadn’t slept. He lay in bed, gripping his son’s small gold seal tightly in his hand.

To die or not to die—that was the question.

Fortunately, Ding Rukui had been thoroughly deceived by Yan Song and Yan Shifan ten years ago, leaving him with the root of paranoia. Thinking it over repeatedly, uncertain of Ding Wu’s safety, he still hadn’t swallowed the gold to commit suicide.

Light appeared in the corridor, accompanied by footsteps. Ding Rukui immediately tensed up—he was afraid, his hand gripping the seal trembling continuously.

This scene seemed familiar. Ten years ago, on such a night, Lu Bing had suddenly visited to tell him of his wife’s death during exile.

The footsteps drew closer. Ding Rukui could no longer pretend to sleep. He ran barefoot from the bed to the iron bars, saying, “What’s happened?”

Ding Rukui feared hearing the worst news.

Indeed, it was Lu Bing. Behind him followed two soldiers carrying a stretcher with his son Ding Wu on it.

Ding Rukui’s legs immediately gave out as if drained of strength, and he collapsed to the ground.

Lu Bing said, “Ding Wu is still alive. I rescued him—you can rest assured.”

Hearing this, Ding Rukui hurriedly reached out to feel for his son’s breath on the stretcher.

Weak, but still alive.

Lu Bing said, “You must trust me. Right now, you can only trust me.” Having said this, Lu Bing extended his hand. “Give me the thing.”

Ding Rukui knew what he wanted. He placed the gold seal from his palm into Lu Bing’s hand. “Save him. He’s all I have left. I swear I’ll never seek death again.”

At this moment, Ding Rukui wasn’t some former Minister of War or death row prisoner—he was just a father.

Meanwhile, Wei Caiwei was changing the burn medicine she had prepared for Wang Daxia. “Don’t burst this blister—let it heal naturally. Otherwise, in this hot summer, if the wound festers, that would be trouble. I’ve seen entire arms rot away, forcing amputation. You can’t be careless.”

Hearing about arm amputation, Wang Daxia trembled with fear. “I’ll behave and recover properly—won’t run around.”

Wei Caiwei also prescribed oral medicine, having guards fetch and boil medicine through the night. “Drink the medicine before sleeping—don’t be lazy.”

Wang Daxia agreed submissively. “Thank you for setting fires to save me tonight.”

If it had been any later, he wouldn’t have escaped so smoothly.

Wei Caiwei said, “Thank you for saving Ding Wu. He doesn’t know martial arts—suffering the waterwheel torture, he almost couldn’t endure it.”

Ding Wu’s constitution wasn’t as good as Wang Daxia’s. After hanging on the waterwheel for half a day, he was still unconscious.

Wang Daxia, before even drinking his medicine, started getting jealous again. “You came to save me because I saved Ding Wu?”

You… Wei Caiwei really wanted to lift open Wang Daxia’s skull to see how his brain worked.

But seeing the burn on Wang Daxia’s arm, Wei Caiwei’s heart softened again. Her voice became gentle: “With or without Ding Wu, I would have saved you.”

She pushed the plate of grapes toward him. “Eat something as a midnight snack—don’t drink medicine on an empty stomach.”

Wang Daxia was easy to appease. One gentle word and a little food satisfied him.

However, Wang Daxia had obviously become increasingly demanding lately. “Oh, my arm hurts so much. It hurts when I use any force—grape skins are hard to peel.”

He meant for Wei Caiwei to peel grapes for him.

Wang Daxia had this personality—give him sunshine and he’d be brilliant; give him a kind face and he’d dare climb all over you; don’t discipline him for three days and he’d tear the roof off.

Anyone else would have told him to get lost by now.

But Wei Caiwei wasn’t just anyone—she was his wife from his previous life. He had lived off her for a lifetime, and in this world, only she could tolerate him most.

In his previous life, Wang Daxia had been a kept man. Usually, he was the one peeling grapes for Wei Caiwei. After peeling them for a lifetime, now it was his turn to act spoiled.

Bear with it—consider this lifetime as repaying his kindness.

Wei Caiwei washed her hands and personally peeled grapes for him, using a toothpick to remove the seeds—just as Wang Daxia had done for her in their previous life.

“Open your mouth.”

“Ah—” Wang Daxia opened his mouth wide, waiting to be fed.

Wei Caiwei was about to toss the grape into his mouth when Wang Daxia suddenly lowered his head like a chicken pecking rice. His tongue rolled out, pulling the grape into his mouth.

Feeling the delicate warmth of his tongue tip on her fingertip, Wei Caiwei’s heart stirred, remembering the affection she and Wang Daxia had shared as a married couple in their previous life.

Wang Daxia was a rootless eunuch, but he was clever with his hands and mouth, most skilled at being kept.

Though they were a eunuch couple, they had plenty of bedroom pleasure…

Wait, what am I thinking about? The current Wang Daxia is only fourteen, not yet of age.

Moreover, aside from sharing a handsome face and terrible aesthetic taste for gaudy colors with the later Eunuch Wang, the fourteen-year-old Wang Daxia was almost completely different in personality.

Wei Caiwei steadied herself and pushed the remaining grapes in front of Wang Daxia. “Eat them yourself.”

Wei Caiwei did have some displaced feelings for the current Wang Daxia, but she wasn’t some demon. Her dead husband was currently just a half-grown boy, very tender, with immature mental development.

He didn’t know what he was doing, what consequences it would bring, or whether he had the ability to bear those consequences.

He was still a youth whose bright smile needed her protection. Those eyes without a trace of shadow were something Wei Caiwei had never seen in her previous life.

Wang Daxia acted spoiled: “My hand hurts.”

Wei Caiwei put a grape in her own mouth, bit out the flesh, then spat out the skin. “Eat them like this—no need to peel with your hands.”

Seeing Wei Caiwei treat him so gently and patiently, Wang Daxia became spoiled from favor: “Look, I’m injured. Oh, it hurts.”

Wei Caiwei was helpless. What else could she do? He was her dead husband—she could only spoil him herself. She peeled grapes and removed seeds, but instead of hand-feeding him, she put all the flesh in a small bowl for Wang Daxia to eat with a small spoon.

Author’s Note: Acting spoiled brings the best life! The day before yesterday, Zhou acted spoiled and rolled around begging for comments to try for the monthly rankings. All you readers gave tremendous support—over a thousand comments in one day. Zhou has been writing until now and has never seen such a thing—never had so many comments in a single day. I thought this operation was fierce as a tiger and should get a day on the monthly rankings. But when Zhou checked the rankings, not only didn’t I make it, I dropped several places as other well-performing new works rose up. Though Zhou regrets the defeat, I’m convinced—at least I tried hard. I’m still very grateful for everyone’s comments. This chapter sends 200 red envelopes to express my thanks. I’m very happy to tell everyone about Daxia and Banxia’s two-lifetime fate this summer. Zhou types every day with an auntie smile—telling this story is super fun~