“This is my home, why should I leave? Who are you?” Li Jingfu, irritated at being blocked from entering his own home, demanded angrily.

“Have you lost your mind? I know everyone in this household. Get lost, or I’ll call the guards if you keep causing trouble,” doorman Li Liujin threatened.

“You…” Li Jingfu was so angry he couldn’t speak.

“Father?!” Zhenniang stared at the man arguing with Uncle Liujin—aside from the new scar on his face, who else could it be but her father?

Hearing Zhenniang’s call, Li Jingfu turned around, studying her carefully before uncertainly calling out, “Little Zhen?”

“Yes, it’s me, Father,” Zhenniang responded joyfully.

Girls do change beyond recognition after they grow up, Li Jingfu thought. When he had left Huizhou for Suzhou, Zhenniang was only fourteen. Counting on his fingers, she must be nearly seventeen now. Since taking over Li Mo, she had deliberately cultivated a more mature appearance to command respect, and after managing the business for over a year, she carried herself with natural authority. Her transformation was so complete that Li Jingfu almost didn’t dare claim her as his daughter.

“It is little Zhen. You’ve grown up, become beautiful. Your father barely recognizes you,” Li Jingfu said.

Zhenniang giggled sheepishly, then anxiously asked, “Father, where have you been these two years? Early last year, Uncle Huaide brought news that something had happened to you. After that, we never heard from you again. Big Brother even went to the northern yamen and brought back an urn of ashes. Our family…” Zhenniang’s voice caught. During that period, with the family crisis and the ink workshop’s troubles, everything had piled up at once. They had somehow managed to get through it all by keeping busy.

Back then, she and Madam Zhao were separated only by a curtain, and her mother’s nightly weeping still haunted her dreams.

Yet now, the person they had thought dead had reappeared alive.

“Father, if you were fine, why didn’t you at least send word? Just to ease our minds,” Zhenniang complained.

“Now, now, don’t be angry, little Zhen. I did try to send messages! I sent two letters these past two years. The first messenger hadn’t even left the border when he encountered bandits—I assume the letter was lost. Later, I sent another, but never received your reply. I figured either you never got my letters, or your responses went astray. Besides, very few people travel from the northern regions to Huizhou. Eventually, I couldn’t find anyone to carry messages. Then, since I was planning to return home anyway, there was no need to send more letters,” Li Jingfu hastily explained, seeing Zhenniang’s eyes redden.

“Oh, so Zhenniang misunderstood Father,” Zhenniang smiled. After all, her father wasn’t dead—he had returned. Though occasionally she had thought that since they had never found his body, he might return someday.

But now that the day had come, it felt like a dream.

Although since her transmigration, she hadn’t spent much time with this father and their emotional bond wasn’t particularly strong, the candies and hair ornaments he had sent from Suzhou were tangible proof of his affection.

“Father, come inside quickly—look at your clothes,” Zhenniang hurried forward to support her father, explaining to Li Liujin, “Uncle Liujin, this is my father.”

Then to her father: “Father, this is Uncle Liujin. He used to work at the estate, now he’s our doorman.”

“Mm,” Li Jingfu nodded.

Li Liujin was bewildered. He and his wife had come from the countryside estate, only later taking service with the main family line. By then, the eighth branch of the Li family had moved away from the ancestral home for many years and had no contact with the seventh branch, so he naturally didn’t recognize Li Jingfu.

Moreover, when the eighth branch moved back, he heard that Master Jingfu had been killed by Tartars while running cargo in the north. How could he have imagined that someone dead for almost two years would return during the New Year season?

He immediately put on an apologetic face, bowing repeatedly to Li Jingfu: “My deepest apologies, Master Jingfu. This humble servant failed to recognize you.”

“It’s fine, this wasn’t your fault. However, next time, speak more kindly to people,” Li Jingfu said plainly, though being blocked from his own home had certainly been unpleasant.

“Yes, yes, this servant will remember,” Li Liujin quickly responded.

“Father, let’s go inside. Mother will be overjoyed to see you,” Zhenniang said with a smile. Meanwhile, Li Liujin had become more animated, saying he would go inform Madam Zhao.

“No, no, just stay at your post,” Li Jingfu quickly stopped him, then turned to Zhenniang: “Little Zhen, look at my appearance. Why don’t you take me to the kitchen first to wash up?” Li Jingfu touched the scar on his face as he spoke.

That had been from the Tartar’s blade that year.

Her father was feeling shy about returning home, Zhenniang realized. Looking at his beggar-like appearance, it was clear he had suffered greatly outside. Yes, cleaning up first would be better, she thought and led her father through the side entrance toward the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Madam Zhao sat by the coal stove with her sleeves rolled up, waiting for the water to boil while chatting with Madam Zheng and Sister Liujin.

Since Zhenniang’s return, the house had been constantly full of visitors—people from the sixth, seventh, and ninth branches frequently visited, and even distant relatives came to test the waters. With so many guests, they needed constant hot water for tea.

Today being the Little New Year, Madam Zheng and Sister Liujin were busy with kitchen duties. As for Madam Du, with such a young child needing nursing, it wasn’t convenient for her to help, so Madam Zhao hadn’t asked her to work. Madam Zhao handled the tea preparation herself, while the old master and Da Lang entertained guests—as a woman, she didn’t need to join them.

“By the way, who came today?” Madam Zheng asked Madam Zhao while kneading dough. Having been in the kitchen all day on this Little New Year, she hadn’t gone to the front of the house and didn’t know who had visited.

“Who else? Just Jingming’s cousin, that Li Jingyi, the xiucai,” Madam Zhao replied irritably. The reason she was staying in the kitchen watching the stove rather than going to the front was because of Li Jingyi. She couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Li Jingyi and Li Jingming were brothers from a branch that had split off during Old Master Zeng’s time. The relationship was quite distant now, with little regular contact.

This Li Jingyi had shown early promise, becoming a xiucai young, but unfortunately, after more than ten years, he was now over forty and still hadn’t passed the provincial examinations. Nevertheless, he maintained the airs of a scholar and looked down on the Li family as mere merchants. He rarely associated even with his relatively close relative Li Jingming.

However, unexpectedly, after the Seventh Old Madam had brought Li Jingming back from Nanjing, Li Jingyi started stirring up trouble, going around saying the main family was ungrateful, that Li Jingming’s family had contributed years of service in Nanjing, only to be driven back by a mere girl.

Over this matter, Li Jingyi had even brought several clan elders to protest against the Seventh Grandmother, putting the seventh and eighth branches of the Li family in a very awkward position. Zhenniang had become the subject of gossip again.

Since Li Jingyi held an official degree, people took his words seriously. The situation had become so inflammatory that when Madam Zhao went to Nanjing, she didn’t dare tell Zhenniang, fearing it would upset her daughter.

The matter was only resolved when Li Jingming himself stepped forward and confessed to embezzling money over the years, finally silencing the critics.

Because of this, Madam Zhao harbored a deep hatred for Li Jingyi.

“Li Jingyi? What’s he here for now? Wasn’t everything cleared up? Li Jingming himself didn’t complain, yet he made such a fuss. Isn’t it just because the ink workshop’s business has improved and he wants a share?” Madam Zheng said angrily. She was very protective of Zhenniang and couldn’t stand anyone who opposed her.

“The share you’re talking about is too small for his tastes. He’s eyeing a much bigger prize,” Madam Zhao snorted.

“What do you mean? I’m confused by all this talk of small and big shares,” Madam Zheng said, puzzled by Madam Zhao’s words.

“Li Jingyi says it’s too difficult for Zhenniang to manage everything alone in Nanjing, that the Li family shouldn’t let a young woman carry such a heavy burden. So they should help share the load. Since he’s a xiucai but hasn’t passed the provincial examinations all these years, he wants the main family to help him purchase a juren degree. Then he wants Zhenniang to ask the Princess’s household to directly assign him an official position,” Madam Zhao explained sarcastically.

“How… how could he even think of such a thing?” Madam Zheng said incredulously. Whoever came up with this idea must be the one who’s lost their mind.

“If it were up to me, I’d have thrown him out directly. It’s only because the old master still cares about clan relations,” Madam Zhao said unhappily.

“If you can’t beat him up, I will,” an angry male voice suddenly came from outside the kitchen. The voice seemed both strange and familiar. Madam Zhao stood up, seeing Zhenniang accompanying someone.

“Mother, look who’s come home?” Zhenniang pointed at Li Jingfu with a grin.

Sister Liujin, having never met Li Jingfu, was merely curious, but Madam Zheng, who had known him, stood dumbfounded.

As for Madam Zhao, she first froze, then asked in a daze: “You wretched man, you’re not dead?”

“No, not dead,” Li Jingfu replied foolishly, looking very much like Da Lang at that moment.

As soon as he finished speaking, tears burst from Madam Zhao’s eyes. She grabbed a bamboo broom and began hitting Li Jingfu wherever she could reach.

“I’ll beat you, you troublemaker! I’ll beat you, you inconsiderate fool! I’ll beat you, you heartless wretch! You were alive and well but couldn’t even send a letter home…” Madam Zhao cried and cursed as she struck him.

“Yes, I was wrong,” Li Jingfu mumbled, standing there like a fool, letting Madam Zhao hit him while wearing a silly smile. He truly looked deserving of a beating.

This admission of guilt was all too familiar to Madam Zhao. In the past, whenever Li Jingfu was caught gambling or drinking and got scolded by her, he would apologize in the same way.

Now hearing it again, it felt so real.