On the stone-paved road.

Han Xu turned his head to look at Yan Sanhe. “Speak. What do you want to ask me about?”

Yan Sanhe didn’t beat around the bush. “I want to ask you to help me gather some information.”

“About whom?”

“Old General Zheng Yu’s family.”

Han Xu frowned. “Why does that name sound so familiar? I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere.”

Yan Sanhe: “Yonghe year eight, Four Lanes Alley, the Zheng residence—one hundred eighty souls, a massacre.”

Han Xu abruptly stopped walking. “Why are you inquiring about this?”

“I promised someone I’d investigate it.”

Han Xu’s eyelids twitched. “Yan Sanhe, I don’t care who you promised, but you absolutely must refuse this case. Don’t investigate it.”

Yan Sanhe looked up at him. “Do you know something?”

“What could I, an escort guard, possibly know? I only know this happened in the capital, and the culprits were the Wu father and son, exiled monarchs of the Qi Kingdom.”

“Then why won’t you let me investigate?”

“Do you know what my father told me most often before he died?”

“What?”

“Stay far from the capital, stay far from officials, stay far from the court.”

Han Xu’s eyes held worry. “It’s because it’s you that I’m advising. If it were someone else, I wouldn’t say a word.”

Yan Sanhe pondered the meaning in his words and smiled helplessly.

“What if I told you this matter isn’t just someone else’s business, but also my own—would you still advise me?”

“Your own?”

“Yes.”

Yan Sanhe nodded.

Her earliest memory was of that broken-down courtyard in Yunnan Prefecture.

The first person she saw was Yan Xing.

Yan Xing said she was his granddaughter, just turned eight, who had fallen gravely ill and forgotten everything.

She believed him completely and never questioned it.

Yan Xing taught her to read, write, paint, and took her to travel every river and mountain in Yunnan Prefecture.

Her first time resolving a heart demon was for the village’s Old Auntie.

Old Auntie had died, and the family was holding the funeral. Yan Xing was writing white elegiac scrolls for them.

She followed along. Old Auntie wasn’t yet in the coffin, her two eyes staring wide open. The adults nearby were discussing hiring a spirit medium to perform rituals so the dead could close her eyes.

As if drawn by something, she walked over and placed her hand over Old Auntie’s eyes. Then she saw it.

“She has a heart demon. The heart demon is…”

She pointed among the adults, toward a corner at Old Grandpa: “It’s you!”

The man had an affair with the widow next door and fathered a daughter, claiming he’d found her abandoned and brought her home for Old Auntie to raise.

Old Auntie had always known but didn’t dare say anything.

The man treated the daughter extremely well, even better than his biological son. Old Auntie had spent her whole life raising someone else’s child. Unwilling in her heart, she couldn’t close her eyes.

From that day, she realized she was different from others.

At first, the heart demons were all simple—she’d place her hand on them and know.

After age fourteen, the heart demons became increasingly difficult, and with each one she resolved, she could recall a bit more of her past.

Only then did she realize Yan Xing wasn’t her grandfather.

She didn’t dare ask him. Several times the words reached her lips, but seeing Yan Xing’s emaciated appearance, she could only swallow them back down.

But Yan Xing sensed her distance. He called her into the study and said one thing to her.

“Yan Sanhe, you bear the Yan surname. You are my child.”

The debt of birth is less than the debt of raising.

After hearing this, she had no other thoughts. She simply assumed Yan Xing had taken her in or found her.

Yan Sanhe’s eyes suddenly widened.

Wait!

How did Yan Xing know back then that she’d just turned eight? Who told him this?

Why did he take her in and then treat her as his own?

What was his relationship to the Zheng family?

Did he know anyone from the Zheng family?

Thinking of what Yan Xing said to her in her room on his last night, Yan Sanhe’s head suddenly throbbed with splitting pain.

“Yan Sanhe, Yan Sanhe…”

Yan Sanhe looked up blankly, her eyes wooden. “Ah?”

Han Xu saw her face was deathly pale, her forehead covered in cold sweat. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I…”

Yan Sanhe murmured, “I need to make a trip to Yunnan Prefecture. I must go back. So many secrets, Han Xu, so many secrets.”

…

Kaicui Fang.

The front courtyard was bustling with noise, gamblers all red-eyed.

In the back courtyard, Zhu Qing leaped onto the pleasure boat and ducked into the cabin.

“Master, I’ve already found out clearly. It was the Wei family who made the connection and built the bridge between the two families.”

The Wei family was the Prince of Han’s wife’s natal family.

Xie Zhifei: “Any movement from the Crown Prince’s residence?”

Zhu Qing shook his head. “I heard the Crown Prince ate half an extra crab on Mid-Autumn Festival. His gout has flared up these past days, and he hasn’t even attended morning court—he’s recuperating at the residence.”

Xie Zhifei really wanted to curse.

That person was pressing so urgently step by step, yet this one still had the mood to gnaw on crabs? Did he truly think having the Crown Prince title meant he could rest easy?

“Mingting, this marriage absolutely cannot happen.”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

The Prince of Han’s ambitions were known throughout the world. This matchmaking between the Du and He families wasn’t about He Yun—it was about He Yun’s father, the Marquis of Wu’an.

The three words “Marquis of Wu’an”—if placed decades ago, they truly represented a resounding figure.

He Yun’s grandfather, the old Marquis, had fought battles alongside the founding Emperor. Of his three legitimate sons, the top two died on the battlefield.

Because of this, the Marquis of Wu’an’s residence remained steady and secure in the capital.

After the old Marquis passed, the youngest son—He Yun’s father—not only naturally inherited the title but also took over the old Marquis’s post, commanding the Northern Camp’s Wuling Army.

One could say he held real power.

The Prince of Han was already a military man. Add a Marquis of Wu’an… even if the Crown Prince took the throne, it would likely be unstable.

Young Master Pei’s eyes rolled, bad ideas bubbling up. “Just marry that Miss Du yourself!”

Xie Zhifei said nothing, coldly watching Pei Mingting.

“Fine, fine, fine. Just pretend I farted just now.”

Xie Zhifei pointed at him, the warning extremely obvious.

“Then what do you suggest? He Yun is such trash, yet Du Jianxue is willing to marry his daughter to him—clearly his mind is set.”

This was the hard truth.

Xie Zhifei knew very well Du Yiyun’s position in Du Jianxue’s heart—she even surpassed his two sons.

“I have another terrible idea. Don’t curse me after hearing it.”

Young Master Pei didn’t know why, but all evening his bad ideas kept bubbling up uncontrollably.

“Spread the word that Du Yiyun is no longer a virgin—she’s already slept with you.”

“Pei Mingting!”

Xie Zhifei roared, “Can’t you think of anything decent?”

“Why are you shouting? I already said it was a terrible idea.”

Young Master Pei dug at his ear.

“Besides, don’t get all worked up. This plan might not even work—what if He Yun doesn’t care about getting cuckolded at all?”

Xie Zhifei really wanted to slap him to death. “That idea won’t work. Think of something else.”

“Why won’t it work?”

Young Master Pei gave a sinister cold laugh.

“You, Third Master Xie, are someone who frequents brothels all the time. With a piece of fat meat dangling before your eyes, could you resist? Even if you resist, others won’t believe it.”