The next day, when He Tinglan came downstairs, she found that Ruyi was already at the counter behind the desk, playing with the abacus beads.

She walked closer and asked puzzledly: “What happened to your hand?”

Ruyi looked up and raised her bandaged index finger: “A cat bit me.”

The little cat’s teeth were sharp and its strength great—if she hadn’t let it bite her, it would have bitten through its tongue.

Laughter welling up in her eyes, Ruyi shook the abacus and changed the subject to ask her: “Today we need to go to the grain shop for the handover—are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” He Tinglan nodded. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll come get reinforcements.”

Though she said this, Ruyi knew she was confident. He Tinglan had grown up through hardship and had been managing household affairs since childhood—she had seen all kinds of situations. It was only after the He family gained power that she had been idle in her boudoir.

“Go then.” She waved her hand.

He Tinglan walked out the door with the contracts in a composed manner, just brushing past little Heye.

Little Heye ran in, blinking at Ruyi and said, “Everyone outside is walking toward East Green Street, saying there’s excitement to see.”

The hand playing with the abacus beads paused. Ruyi propped her elbow on the counter and leaned her head out, asking with a smile: “What excitement is there?”

Heye proudly patted her chest: “I found out everything! They say a wet nurse died at Liu Manor on East Green Street, and the wet nurse’s family has come to demand an explanation.”

Hm? She listened with confusion: “A wet nurse who sold herself into service—what explanation are the family demanding?”

“They say that the wet nurse’s indenture contract isn’t at Liu Manor, and she didn’t sign a death contract either. She wasn’t Liu Manor’s private property, so she couldn’t just die like that for nothing.”

Ruyi was astonished.

Liu Ruyi’s wet nurse—after so many years in the manor, she had signed not a death contract?

She turned to ask Fuman: “In this situation, would Great Qian’s laws punish the master?”

Fuman nodded: “Those without… without indenture contracts, if enslaved and beaten to death, the master would be lightly punished with twenty strokes and a fine, or heavily punished with exile to bitter cold lands for ten… ten years.”

Such severe punishment? Ruyi became interested: “If that master were a current important minister, would the judgment be the same?”

Fuman paused, her eyes dropping as if dark clouds had gathered overhead: “No… no.”

Important ministers were involved in many matters—how could they easily be found guilty? Even if they beat someone to death, only their reputation would be damaged. It was because she had seen too many such cases that she became completely disappointed in the Ministry of Justice.

As they were speaking, Shen Qiyuan came down from upstairs.

He didn’t look to be in a good mood, his eyes half-closed, mouth pressed into a line. When he glimpsed her, his steps paused, then he slowly continued down.

Fuman greeted him and gestured: My Lord got drunk yesterday.

“Mm.” He listlessly raised his eyes. “Did I behave improperly?”

No. Fuman gestured: The proprietress took care of you for a while, and you slept very well.

They didn’t know what she and he had done.

His spine relaxing slightly, he looked at the person beside him: “Thank you.”

Ruyi smiled brilliantly: “My Lord helped me so much—what thanks are needed? Come, come, there’s something else I want to give My Lord.”

Saying this, she invited him to the back hall.

Shen Qiyuan silently looked at the thing on the table for a long while before extending his finger to tap it: “This is for me?”

A black wood blank plaque over ten feet long, with a pile of ink ground from gold powder beside it.

“I heard My Lord’s calligraphy is vigorous and powerful, treasured as precious writing by many noble families.” She said righteously, “This humble woman is allowing My Lord to display it.”

What wonderful intentions indeed.

He turned and walked away.

“Hey.” Ruyi caught his sleeve. “Don’t be so petty.”

Brushing away her hand, Shen Qiyuan turned his head, even the beauty mark under his eye showing detachment: “There’s no one better at doing business than you on this Worship Street—why do you insist on having this one plaque?”

Ruyi’s face fell: “You’re being mean to me.”

Shen Qiyuan sneered: “I’m stating facts. Moreover, if I write a plaque for this wine house of yours, then—”

“You’re being mean to me.” She pouted.

His brow twitched. Shen Qiyuan narrowed his eyes: “Be serious.”

“Being mean to me, wuwuwu~”

“…”

Forget it.

With a dark face, he picked up the brush and wrote four characters on the plaque: “Exquisite Delicacies.” Taking out his seal and dipping it in gold powder, his hand paused slightly.

The person beside him covered his hand and pressed down forcefully, stamping the seal.

“Now that’s good.” She smiled again. “After all, my wine house only delayed business because My Lord was investigating a case—My Lord can’t just stand by and watch.”

Having found him a graceful way out, Shen Qiyuan reluctantly accepted: “Only this once, never again.”

She nodded obediently, her clear, long eyes reflecting his silhouette, carrying starlight and joy.

He irritably turned his face away.

Once the plaque was written, Ruyi carried it out to dry. Fuman and little Heye, outside, both exclaimed in surprise, gathering around to look.

Zhao Yanning didn’t join them. He crossed his arms and stood beside Shen Qiyuan.

“What are you doing?” Shen Qiyuan’s tone was still not good.

Zhao Yanning touched his nose and smiled: “During those five years following My Lord, I often felt My Lord was without emotion or desire, not a living thing of this world. I never expected to see such a vibrant side.”

Vibrant? Shen Qiyuan sneered: “You just want to see me angry.”

“Not at all, not at all.” Zhao Yanning shook his head. “My Lord, search your heart—is there only anger in it?”

Shen Qiyuan answered without thinking: “Only anger, nothing else.”

Zhao Yanning meaningfully patted his shoulder.

Inexplicably annoyed, Shen Qiyuan brushed him away and strode outside.

How could he not be angry? That person—false-faced, calculating in heart, disrupting his usual pace, destroying the rules he upheld, like an ivy gone wild with growth, reckless and unrestrained, wanton and willful, making one wish to eliminate her as quickly as possible.

Stepping onto his carriage as the door closed, her laughter drifted from afar: “Take care, My Lord~”

Usually, such words would be followed by “please come again,” but she didn’t say it.

She simply didn’t want to see him at all.

His chest feeling stuffy, he rode with a gloomy face into the palace.

The Empress’s birthday had just passed, and the joy hadn’t yet faded from the Emperor’s face. Upon seeing him, he said: “Yesterday I spoke with the Empress about your mother. I’m thinking it’s time to give you a title of nobility—only then would it be worthy of The Eldest Princess’s merit in protecting the nation.”

Noble titles were prestigious—they came with stipends and were hereditary honors passed down through generations, sufficient to show this uncle’s love for his nephew.

However, Shen Qiyuan knelt formally and said solemnly: “This subject kowtows in gratitude for Your Majesty’s grace. A title means little to this subject. If it is to be granted now, there would need to be an investiture ceremony and another mansion bestowed, not to mention delaying court sessions for two days. The construction work would also burden the people and waste money. Please reconsider, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor found this curious: “Even if you don’t value this title, you should think of your descendants—this blessing can continue down through the generations.”

Descendants?

Shen Qiyuan lowered his eyes: “My fate has no children, so there’s no need for such blessings. Please set aside the matter of enfeoffment for now and first consider the torrential rains and mountain collapses in Lei Zhou, providing more aid to the disaster victims.”