“Whore” was the word he heard most often.

Wherever he went, this word followed.

Before three years and eight months, he didn’t know what this word meant—he could only instinctively sense that the way everyone in the Lu household looked at him differed from how they looked at other young masters.

After that night, he not only understood what the word meant but also understood that the whore in the adults’ mouths was his mother.

Mother was a beautiful whore, so beautiful that men couldn’t walk when they saw her.

He’d slept in her embrace and knew how slender her waist was.

She’d kissed his little face with her mouth, so he knew how soft her lips were, how white her face…

Such a beautiful mother, yet he hated her from the bottom of his heart.

From that night on, he’d rather curl up alone in a corner, sleep in chicken coops or pigsties, than sleep in that bed again.

He even stopped calling her “Mother,” using “Hey” to address her instead.

She didn’t care at all—two slaps would land, hands on hips cursing.

“What are you anyway? I should have drunk abortion medicine back then and flushed you down the latrine, you little beast.”

After being hit, he’d rack his brains for revenge.

Deliberately staying awake at night, barking like dogs, meowing like cats, howling like wolves.

Deliberately throwing stones into the room when their voices reached their loudest.

The most severe time, he picked up half a ghost mask from outside and threw it in, scaring the man half to death.

What he got in return was even worse beatings.

Before, when beaten, he’d cry and wail. After that lightning night, he stopped crying—silently enduring her beatings.

Lu Shi thought to himself: As long as you don’t beat me to death, someday I’ll beat you to death.

Yes, Lu Shi had been ruthless from childhood.

Just this alone told him he was genuine Lu family stock.

The stone quarrying business was hugely profitable—the mountain was right there, what mattered was who had greater ability and wilder connections.

For the Lu family to monopolize this business in Liuhe County, without blood on their hands and lives on their conscience, they could never have established their position.

As for which Lu man had sired him—that was hard to say. His supposed father had never looked at him properly anyway.

Once a beautiful woman opened herself up, silver was never lacking.

Those men, to sleep with her, would tighten their belts for months. Moreover, every Lu master had hundreds or thousands of taels in private savings.

The woman was generous with spending on him—clothes for all four seasons, food and drink—everything better than the Lu estate’s young masters.

But no matter how well dressed, no one treated him as a young master. They all cursed him as bastard, beast, mongrel.

Before, when people cursed him as mongrel, he’d only tear up.

Later, whoever cursed him mongrel again got a rock thrown at them. No rocks available? He’d use his teeth.

The Lu estate’s Fourth Young Master nearly got bitten to death by him.

That winter, the Lu family held ancestral rites.

Though he was a young master, he was never allowed into the ancestral hall—he could only wait outside.

Fourth Young Master hadn’t gone in either that day, because his zodiac sign conflicted with the ceremony.

Adults could clearly distinguish why Fourth Young Master and Seventh Young Master couldn’t enter the ancestral hall. Fourth Young Master couldn’t.

Fourth Young Master turned his head and looked at him viciously.

Lu Shi couldn’t describe those eyes—it was like…

Like…

His mother had also been entered from behind by another man.

Before Lu Shi could ponder further, Fourth Young Master walked over and whispered in his ear:

“Like mother, like son. You’ll also be a little turtle ridden by thousands, slept with by ten thousand.”

What was a little turtle? Lu Shi didn’t understand, but he understood this was cursing him.

Curse his father, curse his mother, curse the Lu family’s ancestors for eighteen generations—Lu Shi wouldn’t get angry. But curse him…

Lu Shi immediately flew into rage.

Yet this Fourth Young Master still didn’t know better, adding viciously: “Being a turtle has its benefits—like that whore mother of yours, you can exchange it for silver.”

One sentence completely ignited Lu Shi’s fire.

Without thinking, he grabbed Fourth Young Master’s hair and bit down on his neck.

The bite was extremely vicious.

Blood flowed along his teeth, soaking his body.

Fourth Young Master cried out “wah.”

Immediately after, women’s panicked cries and men’s angry shouts rose around Lu Shi’s ears.

Lu Shi didn’t release his bite, holding fast.

He knew that if he didn’t hold on this time, he’d have to live like a turtle forever after, only able to shrink his head.

How he finally released, Lu Shi had no idea. When he woke, he’d been hung from a beam, wearing only a single layer of clothing.

The man he called Father held a water-soaked rattan cane, whipping him again and again.

That woman hugged her chest, leaning against the threshold cracking melon seeds.

“Fourth Master, you really must discipline your son properly. Beat him to death if necessary—saves a mouth to feed, doesn’t it?”

The man’s hand stopped. He threw down the cane and said murderously:

“Hang him for three days. No one give him food or water. Lock the door.”

“My son!”

That woman smiled at him.

“Whether you live or die depends on your fate. Even if you die, don’t think of your mother. When mother has lived enough, she’ll naturally come find you.”

Ptui!

Who would think of you!

Lu Shi spat out blood-tinged saliva, thinking: This young master hasn’t lived enough yet!

The vermillion door creaked shut, then clicked locked.

Silence descended. Only then did he feel the burning pain on his back.

If he’d known he’d get beaten, he shouldn’t have bitten then—should have found a time when no one was watching.

Too rash!

After Lu Shi finished his self-reflection, he began planning revenge, thinking up seventeen or eighteen methods, each seeming better than the last.

He also thought of that Analects he hadn’t finished reading. Such books were rather hard to memorize—not nearly as catchy as the Three Character Classic or Hundred Family Surnames.

Thinking and thinking, his stomach grew hungry. Not just hungry—cold and painful too.

No help for it—sleep then.

Lu Shi loved sleeping.

Once the lamp went out and he dove naked into the covers, his whole body felt indescribably comfortable. It was as if all the world’s sorrows and troubles were blocked outside the covers, unable to penetrate even a bit.

And when asleep, he could dream. In dreams, everything existed, and no one called him bastard.

The adults looked at him kindly.

The servants respectfully called him Seventh Young Master.

Father taught him to read and write by hand.

And Mother…

Mother would pull him into her embrace, one hand gently patting his back, the other fanning him.

“My son, sleep. Mother is here, Mother is here!”

This year, Lu Shi was six years and three months old.