The news coming from the grasslands was not good. After word of Yun Ye’s disappearance reached the grasslands, certain people inevitably began harboring petty ambitions. In their view, “missing” was no different from “dead”—hadn’t they seen battlefield reports where “missing” meant at best recovering a pile of bones? They figured that the current head of the Yun Family was just a suckling babe who didn’t need all those pastures, so they thought to claim some for themselves. Their own families were large, barely had enough to eat—all being military brothers, if your bowl had more meat, it was the duty of comrades-in-arms to transfer a couple chopstick-fulls into mine.

Initially, many people harbored such intentions, but Li Jing, who had been sent to the grasslands, beat them back with such ferocity they fled in disgrace. It seemed Old Cheng and Old Niu even killed a few, and Cheng Chumo actually severed someone’s head and kicked it around like a ball. As a result, his rank of Captain was demoted to Squad Leader, and he now led just ten men wandering about all day, while releasing harsh threats that anyone who dared to target the Yun Family again would see their entire household burned to the ground.

The grasslands quieted down. Those people didn’t even dare look in the direction of the Yun Family pastures—if they so much as glanced that way, Cheng Chumo would assume they were harboring wicked thoughts and needed education. The Yun Family pastures took advantage of this opportunity to acquire many cattle and sheep from the surrounding areas, making the ranch increasingly prosperous.

Huan Niang had told Na Rimu early on not to worry about the pasture affairs—proper prenatal care was what mattered. As long as she had a child, those things would eventually return anyway. Na Rimu agreed with this reasoning, though she longed to return to the grasslands. However, giving birth on the grasslands was too dangerous, and Xinyue forbade her from going back. Instead, Xinyue established a large grassy area for her on the hillside behind the estate and gave her over a dozen sheep. Whenever she wanted to herd sheep, she could spend the entire day there.

Na Rimu was the world’s only shepherdess who was beautiful, wealthy, and could sing. When she missed Yun Ye, she would cradle a little lamb in the pasture and sing. Whenever Na Rimu sang, Xinyue would hide inside the house and weep, but once she stepped outside, she remained that imposing Imperial Lady of commanding presence.

On this particular day, having learned that her husband was still alive and well, Na Rimu came early to the pasture, planning to find the most beautiful little lamb to confide her innermost thoughts—this was her happiest time.

The pasture behind the estate bordered someone else’s land—reportedly Zhang Liang’s property. He had many adopted sons, among them an exceptionally handsome one named Zhang Hui who had been loitering around his family estate these past days. He had heard from his family’s servants that a woman of extraordinary beauty often came to that pasture to herd sheep, and by all appearances, she was a concubine from a wealthy household.

Zhang Hui was born with a handsome face and was greatly favored by his adoptive father. Previously, knowing that Yun Ye was not to be trifled with, he had obediently stayed in Chang’an City, preying on daughters of minor households instead.

Now, learning that Yun Ye had disappeared, he grew bold enough to want to see just how beautiful this woman was. He had heard that this shepherdess owned extensive property on the grasslands. If he forced himself on her, no one could protect him—his adoptive father alone would flay him alive. But if it were consensual, no one could say anything. He had great confidence in his appearance.

When he mentioned this idea to his adoptive father, the man neither objected nor agreed—he said nothing at all.

No objection meant consent—that’s how Zhang Hui interpreted it. When servants reported that the woman had come out to herd sheep again, he deliberately dressed in his set of pale pink robes, hung a bright jade pendant at his waist, and pulled down a lock from his neatly combed hair to drape over one eye. In the bronze mirror, there immediately appeared an elegant and refined young gentleman of extraordinary grace.

“Such a handsome man—even Pan An or Song Yu would be no better than this, would they?” With a whistle, he hurriedly prepared to head toward the pasture.

Upon stepping outside, he sighed inwardly—heaven itself was helping him! At some point, a beautiful rain of peach blossoms had begun falling in profusion. In such weather, an umbrella wasn’t necessary, yet Zhang Hui deliberately carried a pale pink lady’s parasol. From a distance, he looked like a brilliant peach blossom itself.

He slowed his pace, approaching from a perfectly calculated angle, passing precisely at a spot where the green-clad shepherdess would see him the moment she looked up. With a gentle smile and elegant bearing, Zhang Hui waited for the shepherdess to call out to him in a clear, crisp voice: “Young master, please wait!”

He had experienced this too many times—whether wives of great households or beauties from modest families, those with even a bit of boldness would say these words, and Chang’an women lacked nothing if not courage.

The maidservant beside the shepherdess already had flushed cheeks and clutched her hands to her heart, but the shepherdess herself didn’t even lift her head, still chattering away to the lamb in her arms. When she spoke with particular fervor, she gestured continuously with her hands, completely absorbed.

Just half her face showing was enough to entrance Zhang Hui—how could such a woman be reduced to herding sheep? Yun Ye was truly wasting heaven’s gifts.

Zhang Hui decided to walk past again. If not for a bearded old man standing not far from the shepherdess, he would have already approached to strike up conversation. The little maidservant was stealing glances at him—Zhang Hui was well aware of this. The shepherdess was probably preoccupied with something, otherwise she would have already noticed such a handsome man as himself.

He walked back and forth six times, yet the shepherdess remained immersed in her own world, talking to that lamb. In her eyes, this handsome man Zhang Hui was less important than the little sheep.

Zhang Hui lost his patience. He had never had such trouble seducing women before—which one hadn’t fallen for him easily? Now suffering this humiliation made him abandon his usual cunning.

In a few steps he reached Na Rimu and said gently: “Young lady, why do you wear such a worried expression? Beautiful people should receive heaven’s favor. Here there is grass, flowers, and peach blossom rain, while I have a flute. Let me play for you a tune called ‘Phoenix Seeking Phoenix’—may it ease your troubled countenance.”

Na Rimu had been telling the little lamb stories of herself and Yun Ye on the grasslands when she suddenly heard these words and froze. Looking up, she saw a greasy, powdered face bearing a lewd smile. A thick wave of perfume assaulted her nostrils, frightening her into crying out loudly: “Uncle Jiang! Uncle Jiang!”

Old Jiang had just gone behind a hillside to relieve himself and was returning when he heard the Second Lady calling for him. Looking again, he saw that the man who had been loitering outside the pasture was now standing beside the Second Lady. You could do whatever you wanted on your own land, but now you dare cause trouble on Yun Family territory? This was courting death.

His hand swept to his waist and a fist-sized chain hammer flew out. Zhang Hui had never encountered such a situation—he was making advances to a woman yet had frightened her. Just as he was about to explain, he saw a dark shadow appear before his eyes. He heard the sound of his facial bones shattering. His first concern wasn’t for his life, but whether his face would ever return to its former state.

The eight-petaled melon hammer not only crushed Zhang Hui’s face and sent teeth scattering everywhere, but even shocked one eyeball out to dangle from its socket—a truly horrifying sight. The little maidservant screamed and sat down hard, immediately wetting her pants. Na Rimu had seen more dead people than living ones on the grasslands, so this little fright couldn’t affect her. She set down the lamb, stood up, and kicked the unconscious Zhang Hui twice for good measure.

Though naive, she wasn’t stupid. She had noticed Zhang Hui the moment he appeared—after all, emerging from that angle made him impossible to miss. At first she thought it was a chance encounter and even found the man quite handsome, praising him once. But when she realized he was endlessly parading before her eyes, she understood his intentions. Huan Niang had said that Chang’an City was full of such people who relied on their looks to be kept by women. Once entangled with them, a woman’s virtue was ruined—extremely vicious. Though she didn’t fully understand what “virtue” meant, everything she had belonged to her husband and nothing could be given to outsiders. This was Na Rimu’s principle.

“Uncle Jiang, throw this soft-rice eater off our land so he doesn’t dirty our grass. Our family only eats hard rice, not soft rice.”

Old Jiang gave Na Rimu a thumbs up and with a chuckle grabbed one of Zhang Hui’s legs, swung him around, and hurled him far away. If Zhang Hui wasn’t already dead from that hammer blow, this throw would surely finish him off good and hard.

“Second Lady, if anyone asks, just say this old man saw him making trouble on our land and beat him to death. Never mention yourself—it would damage your reputation if word got out.”

Old Jiang glanced at the motionless Zhang Hui in the distance. Na Rimu didn’t know, but Old Jiang was well aware that the opposite land belonged to Zhang Liang’s family, and this slick-faced fellow was the new estate master, reportedly an adopted son whom Zhang Liang greatly favored. This matter wouldn’t end well. With the Marquis away, their household needed to endure—at worst, he would repay with his own life.

“That’s not true, Uncle Jiang. As long as my husband doesn’t mind, who cares what they say? I helped just now too—I even kicked him twice!”

Old Jiang chuckled heartily. The Yun Family had no cowards—even their women had such backbone. Working for such a household was truly comfortable.

The little maid also got up from the ground. Having wet herself from fright at the dead man’s face, she walked slowly with her legs pressed together, mortified. She resolved that if anyone asked, she would say the rain had wet her pants. But that beautiful man just now—what a pity.

Old Jiang led Na Rimu while the maid herded the flock of sheep home. As soon as they left, a man in fine clothing emerged from the woods and stabbed the barely breathing Zhang Hui seven or eight times in succession. His technique was skillful, not a single drop of blood staining his person. He looked around, confirmed no one else was present, and quietly retreated back into the woods.

This time even the birds in the trees seemed to sense the aura of death, hopping about on the branches, occasionally shaking water droplets from their feathers before hiding under the tree trunk, refusing to show themselves again.

The rain gradually intensified. Cold water droplets hammered down on Zhang Hui’s mangled, bloody face. Blood stains can only be washed away with cold water—the colorless rainwater instantly turned red, forming a trail of bloody tears that washed away the white powder he had applied earlier, leaving streak after streak of marks. His hollow eye socket held no tears, only the eyeball hanging there, staring blankly at the overcast sky.