“Hero Li, Hero Li—”

Young Master Pei’s shout made Li Buyan’s scalp explode.

Huang Qi scratched his head apologetically. “He’s not usually like this. Probably worried about Miss Yan.”

Li Buyan thought to herself: I thank him for that—he’s practically summoning ghosts.

Young Master Pei walked into the courtyard holding an umbrella. Seeing Li Buyan and Huang Qi standing under the eaves with the east wing room dark, he unconsciously lowered his voice.

“Where’s my Sanhe? Has she woken up?”

“If you holler a few more times, she’ll wake up.” Huang Qi muttered quietly.

“Insolent bastard, daring to criticize your master.”

Pei Xiao kicked at him, but Huang Qi quickly dodged.

Miss Li hooked her head at Pei Xiao, grinning: “Young Master Pei, come in for a cup of hot tea!”

Smiling so seductively—definitely up to no good.

Pei Xiao grew wary. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

Li Buyan stepped forward to take his umbrella, grinning at him again.

“Just curious—want to ask Young Master Pei about the water pavilion story. It’s driving me crazy with curiosity.”

Hey!

First time noticing this girl was rather attractive when she smiled.

“What are you standing there for?”

Li Buyan grabbed Pei Xiao’s arm. “Young Master Pei, it’s cold outside. Let’s talk inside.”

“Hey, hey, let go, let go… Stop pulling at me like that. What does this look like? If my Sanhe sees…”

“My Sanhe can’t see right now.”

Li Buyan shot Huang Qi a look: What are you waiting for—grab him!

Under the killing intent in Li Buyan’s eyes, Huang Qi reluctantly extended his claws toward his own master.

The two grabbed Pei Xiao left and right, dragging him inside.

Pressing him into the armchair, Li Buyan brewed tea and served snacks while Huang Qi took a hot towel to wipe his master’s fingers one by one.

Being served by the shit-stirrer, Pei Xiao was thoroughly enjoying himself, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, take out your handkerchiefs.”

Li Buyan and Huang Qi exchanged glances—what’s this about?

Pei Xiao snorted coldly. “This story will make you cry your eyes out.”

Separated by a wall, Yan Sanhe in the next room heard everything clearly, but couldn’t move.

The dream境 was slow to come. She felt like she’d been locked inside a door—inside was foggy, she couldn’t see anything clearly, and worse, she couldn’t get out.

Why was it like this time?

Completely different from before.

Yan Sanhe had no choice but to sit cross-legged. After sitting for who knows how long, the fog gradually dispersed.

A mansion appeared before her.

Yan Sanhe found it familiar, as if she’d seen it somewhere. Just as she was about to think carefully, her body floated up, floating above a courtyard.

She looked down—

In the bushes by the wall hid two people—a boy and a girl.

Outside the bushes at the archway stood two people—a maid in green and a maid in purple.

Suddenly a huge suction force pulled her body down.

When Yan Sanhe opened her eyes again, she found herself sucked into the girl’s body, and her ears could hear sounds.

“Seventh Master got scolded again.”

“That’s nothing new—once a month. Aren’t we used to it by now?”

“I tell you, Seventh Master really is something. They say like father, like son—why is he such a lost cause? He’s dragging down both children.”

“Say less. Even if he’s not favored, life is still better than ours.”

“Work, work.”

Footsteps gradually receded. The boy turned his face, and Yan Sanhe was shocked—this was the boy lying in a pool of blood from the last dream境.

She called him Brother.

“Ah—”

He sighed. “It’s all my fault for being naughty yesterday. Grandfather caught me red-handed, making Father suffer.”

Yan Sanhe blinked, not knowing what to say.

“No way.”

He jumped up, pulling Yan Sanhe up with him. Looking down, she discovered her hand was held by his.

“I have to go reason with Grandfather. This has nothing to do with Father. If he wants to scold someone, let him scold me. Are you coming with me or not?”

Before Yan Sanhe could answer, he looked fierce: “You must come with me. Father dotes on you so much.”

Yan Sanhe nodded obediently.

The two walked out from the bushes, tiptoeing into the courtyard. Yan Sanhe suddenly had a bad feeling.

She struggled free from his hand.

He turned around, silently questioning: “What?”

Her face fell. “…Maybe we should go back.”

“No going back.”

He grabbed her hand, holding it tightly.

“We agreed—share blessings together, bear hardships together. Whoever goes back is a dog.”

Yan Sanhe’s scalp tightened, stammering: “Brother, brother, you just made a sound…”

Before she could finish, a window suddenly opened and a large blade flew out, landing precisely between two stone slabs.

That blade handle was only three inches from them.

They were scared out of their wits.

Before Yan Sanhe could recover, an angry voice roared—

“Zheng Huaizuo, take your sister and get out of this courtyard!”

Yan Sanhe gasped sharply and opened her eyes.

From the doorway came Pei Mingting’s voice again.

Inside the room, pitch darkness.

Yan Sanhe lay there stiff and motionless, but her heart pounded violently.

“General Zheng’s youngest son had a pair of twins—brother and sister. The brother was called Zheng Huaizuo, the sister Zheng Huaiyou.

Huaizuo was three years younger than me. We met a few times as children. If he were still alive, he’d be even closer to me than Mingting.”

These were words Third Master Xie had personally told her one evening.

So!

She was from the Zheng family?

Yan Sanhe suddenly felt like laughing.

How could she be from the Zheng family?

That field of ruined wasteland shouldn’t be where she grew up.

Those hundred-plus wrongfully dead souls shouldn’t be her close relatives.

Her slender frame couldn’t bear such weight—the weight of one wronged soul alone was enough to crush her.

Yet in fact, she did laugh softly.

Whether she laughed too quickly or choked on something, she suddenly began coughing violently.

The door burst open.

Li Buyan rushed in from outside, yanking Yan Sanhe up and patting her back rhythmically.

But Yan Sanhe kept coughing earth-shakingly, coughing until everything went black before her eyes, coughing until tears slowly flowed down.

“What’s wrong?”

Without waiting for her answer, Li Buyan stood up to light the lamp, pushing Young Master Pei—who wanted to enter but didn’t dare, only poking his head in—back outside with a “bang” of the door.

Yan Sanhe couldn’t speak. Something pressed on her throat, making her suffocate.

In her daze, she heard that angry roar again: “Zheng Huaizuo, take your sister and get out of this courtyard!”

“What did you dream about?”

Li Buyan sat on the bed, placing both hands on Yan Sanhe’s chest—one in front, one in back—helping her regulate her breathing.

“Don’t rush, Yan Sanhe, don’t rush. We can’t rush anything!”

Yan Sanhe’s ears gradually heard sound. She stared at Li Buyan, two balls of flame slowly kindling in her eyes.

“Buyan, do you believe…”

Yan Sanhe grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly. “I’m from the Zheng family.”

“Which Zheng family?”

“Old General Zheng Yu’s family.”

Li Buyan was scared out of her wits.