Zhao Hanzhang found it a little difficult to call him that, so her expression stiffened slightly.

The servants carried her to the edge of the table and set her down. The maids wanted to help her into a chair, but she raised her hand to stop them. Supporting herself on Ting He’s arm, she stood somewhat unsteadily and bowed.

“Grandfather.”

Whether she liked it or not, she had to call him that.

Zhao Changyu frowned, glancing at her injured leg. “Why bother with such empty formalities? Your legs are inconvenient—preserving yourself is the true filial duty. Sit down quickly.”

“Yes.”

Zhao Hanzhang respectfully sat across from him, lowering her gaze to the teapot on the table.

Zhao Changyu examined her carefully.

In truth, the time this grandfather and granddaughter spent together had never been much. He was busy with state affairs and somewhat negligent regarding family matters.

But that did not mean he didn’t understand his two grandchildren.

On the contrary.

Though they rarely met, he had inquired about what books they read, their temperaments—even their food and clothing.

Thus he knew his grandson was naturally slow-witted, while his granddaughter was intelligent and resilient. Because the family had long decided to pass the title to the second branch, this child had always yielded to those cousins.

She was a sensible child.

Yet her response this time was very different from before—more forceful, less restrained.

Zhao Hanzhang kept her head lowered.

Seeing only the top of her head, Zhao Changyu asked, “I heard from Chengbo that you’ve lost your memory?”

Zhao Hanzhang paused before replying firmly, “Yes.”

Zhao Changyu couldn’t help smiling slightly. “Raise your head when answering.”

Zhao Hanzhang lifted her head and looked directly at him, her eyes bright and steady. She did not change her story.

Zhao Changyu studied her face and asked, “You’ve lost your memory, yet you still remember other things?”

After thinking for a moment, Zhao Hanzhang said, “I still remember my younger brother, Mother, and Grandfather.”

Zhao Changyu’s smile gradually faded.

His fingers lightly tapped the stone table. After a long time he said, “My original intention was to arrange an illustrious marriage for you. The country is in chaos and the people are displaced. A powerful marriage alliance could protect you—and also protect your younger brother.”

He continued, “Emperor Hui is a cautionary tale. I never intended your brother to inherit the earldom. I thought that if I arranged a prominent marriage for you, even if the Earl’s residence could not be relied upon in the future, you siblings would still live safely.”

Zhao Hanzhang replied, “Grandfather, if we cannot trust even close relatives like Uncle, how can we trust in-laws who join halfway?”

Zhao Changyu fell silent.

Zhao Hanzhang continued, “If Emperor Wu had not established Emperor Hui as heir, would Emperor Hui have lived well?”

Zhao Changyu frowned, his gaze sharpening. “Do you wish your brother to inherit the earldom?”

“No,” Zhao Hanzhang said. “Back then Grandfather advised Emperor Wu not to establish Emperor Hui. Granddaughter agrees with your view. Emperor Hui was too simple-minded to rule a nation. Had Emperor Wu listened to your advice, the Great Jin might not face today’s calamity.”

Calling Emperor Hui simple-minded had been Zhao Changyu’s own words—essentially saying he was too honest and dull to be emperor.

After waking in this body, Zhao Hanzhang had been shocked not only by her corpse possession, but also by the historical moment she found herself in.

Last November, Emperor Hui of Jin had suddenly died in Luoyang. The Crown Prince then ascended the throne, establishing the Yongjia era.

Now it was the second month of Yongjia’s first year. The new emperor had been on the throne less than three months, and outside the city rebel troops and refugees filled the land.

She said seriously, “Younger Brother Yong is foolish. He can neither glorify the clan nor protect the family. Grandfather’s decision was not wrong—he truly cannot inherit the earldom.”

Handing the earldom to Zhao Yong might end the same way as handing the empire to Emperor Hui.

Not only the Zhao family’s glory—even the clan’s foundation might be damaged.

Zhao Changyu’s expression improved slightly.

“But Grandfather,” Zhao Hanzhang continued, “if we entrust everything of our main branch to the second branch, is the second branch truly worthy of that trust?”

This question was not only hers.

It had also been the question the original girl had always wanted to ask.

The doubt had pressed upon her heart, searching constantly for an answer. Only when she chased out of the city to save her brother had she finally found it—yet she never had the chance to tell her grandfather.

Now Zhao Hanzhang asked in her stead.

“It was merely an unconfirmed rumor. Uncle did not come to verify it with you, and Cousin did not inquire either, as though unaware of it. Then Erlang went outside the city and nearly lost his life. Grandfather, are you at ease entrusting Mother and us siblings to the second branch like this?”

Zhao Changyu gripped his teacup tightly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

His heart felt as if scalded by boiling oil.

After a long while he said with difficulty, “A single pillar cannot support a great hall. Without relying on the clan and the second branch, you two siblings may find it difficult to survive in this world.”

He sighed deeply.

“The new emperor has ascended, yet he cannot control court affairs. Internal chaos remains unsettled, while the Xiongnu stir trouble beyond the borders. The Jie and Qiang watch like hungry wolves. The realm will soon descend into great chaos.”

“If you do not depend on the clan, how will you survive in such a turbulent age?”

Zhao Hanzhang thought of the lingering soul that never returned no matter how she called.

With quiet sorrow she asked, “What if the people we rely on turn around and take our lives?”

Zhao Changyu looked toward Chengbo, the only other person in the courtyard.

Understanding immediately, Chengbo entered the house and brought out a memorial.

Zhao Changyu pressed it onto the table.

“This is a memorial requesting that Zhao Ji be established as heir. Once it is submitted, their hearts will be at ease.”

It was indeed a solution.

But…

Zhao Hanzhang raised her eyes from the memorial to meet Zhao Changyu’s gaze.

“When there is no conflict of interest, Uncle and Cousin naturally will not begrudge us our meals. But sooner or later there will be times when interests clash.”

“You yourself said the world is about to fall into chaos. In chaotic times… can we truly depend on others?”

Zhao Changyu looked at the determination in her eyes with surprise.

“Then what do you intend to do?”

Zhao Hanzhang answered calmly,

“Power is safest only when held in one’s own hands. Relying on anyone else is never as reliable as relying on oneself.”

Zhao Changyu stared at her in astonishment.

After a moment, he threw his head back and laughed heartily, his eyes shining.

“Good! Good! Truly worthy of being my granddaughter, Zhao Changyu!”

He stood up and paced back and forth twice before finally stopping beside the parasol tree. Looking down at her with bright eyes, he said,

“You’ve grown up. If I remember correctly, you will have your coming-of-age ceremony next year, won’t you?”

Though already twenty-eight inside, Zhao Hanzhang nodded with tears in her eyes.

“Yes.”

Zhao Changyu gently patted her head and looked at her tenderly.

“Good. Very good. Grandfather may not live to see your coming-of-age. Let me give you a courtesy name in advance.”

Zhao Hanzhang paused.

After thinking for a moment, she asked softly, “Grandfather, may I choose my own courtesy name?”

She still wished to keep her original name.

Zhao Changyu smiled. “Won’t you hear the one I’ve chosen first? I believe you will like it.”

Zhao Hanzhang smiled and waited.

Zhao Changyu looked at her gently. “When your father named you Hezhen, he used divination, taking it from the Kun hexagram in the *Book of Changes*. Today I will give you the two characters ‘Hanzhang’ as your courtesy name.”

Zhao Hanzhang stared at him blankly.

Her eyes slowly grew moist.

Holding back her tears, she murmured hoarsely,

“Hanzhang kezhen…”

Back then, her father had also taken her name from that very line.

“Correct,” Zhao Changyu said with a smile.

“Hanzhang kezhen, yi shi fa ye.

Huo cong wang shi, zhi guang da ye.”

“Hezhen, you are a good child. My granddaughter has always possessed virtue, yet has remained modest and restrained. Grandfather hopes you can continue so in the future—and that you may have a good outcome.”

At this point Zhao Changyu felt somewhat sorrowful.

He had always known this child was intelligent, yet had never truly taken it to heart.

If not for the sharp edge she revealed this time, he might have wronged her—and wronged the entire main branch of the Zhao family.