Geng Songsheng said nothing, didn’t even look at Zhu Weixi, just kept his head down, puffing on his pipe.

Yan Sanhe let out a deep sigh.

It must be said that Zhu Xuanjiu’s scheming ran so deep it was chilling.

To prevent his daughter from marrying far away to Geng Songsheng, he had laid plans early.

On one hand, he played the part of a benevolent elder, making Geng Songsheng feel warmth and let down his guard.

On the other hand, he waited for his opportunity, using the chance to examine the Geng family burial site to silently alter Geng Songsheng’s lifelong destiny.

But altering fate wasn’t enough.

Even if Geng Songsheng failed the examinations, as long as Madam Mao relented, as long as Zhu Weixi remained determined, there was still a possibility of the two families becoming in-laws.

To kill this possibility, he deliberately performed that scene with the dowry list in front of Geng Songsheng, forcing him down a crooked path.

This forced Madam Mao to give up hope.

But it still wasn’t enough.

He used the girl Ajun from Geng Songsheng’s story, finding someone to impersonate her and stage a drama of the suffering woman and heartless man.

This forced Zhu Weixi to give up hope.

Yan Sanhe couldn’t help thinking of what Zhu Weijin had said about chess.

This wasn’t a game between Madam Mao and Zhu Xuanjiu at all—it was entirely Zhu Xuanjiu’s battlefield, with every retreat and advance calculated.

But why?

Why did he do this?

Thinking this, Yan Sanhe said: “Buyan, help Zhu Weixi…”

“Yan Sanhe, don’t!”

Zhu Weixi struggled to sit up, forcefully wiping away the blood at her mouth. “Let me listen. I want to hear this through.”

Yan Sanhe was silent for a long moment, then nodded. “Then you must hold on.”

Zhu Weixi leaned weakly against the stone wall, gently closing her eyes.

Yan Sanhe looked up at Geng Songsheng. “Geng Songsheng, have you considered one question—why?”

“Why did he scheme so relentlessly to separate you two?”

“Yes. If he hadn’t altered your fate, you would have placed in the top three with certainty; entering officialdom with the support of the Geng, Mao, and Zhu families, your career path wouldn’t have been bad. Eventually becoming an official in the capital, there would be no question of marrying far away.”

Yan Sanhe paused.

“You and Zhu Weixi were mutually in love. This was a perfectly matched marriage in status, talent, and beauty—it couldn’t be better. Why would he risk heavenly punishment and karmic backlash to separate you?”

“I’ve thought about it.”

Geng Songsheng exhaled a puff of smoke, his expression dark.

“I’m someone who just travels and plays, doesn’t do serious work—I wasn’t the ideal son-in-law in his eyes.”

“Wrong!”

Yan Sanhe firmly denied it. “That reason isn’t sufficient at all.”

Geng Songsheng was startled. “Then what do you think the reason is?”

Yan Sanhe shook her head. “I don’t know, but there’s definitely something suspicious here.”

Very suspicious.

Definitely not because of Geng Songsheng himself.

“Could it be because your surname is Geng?” she asked.

Geng Songsheng was surprised. “He hates our Geng family?”

“How is that possible?”

Zhu Yuanzhao: “The Geng family is my mother’s maternal family. My father could hate anyone, but he would never hate Mother’s side.”

“Master Zhu the Second.”

Li Buyan laughed coldly. “There’s no absolute in this world. Just moments ago, you didn’t imagine your father would stoop so low as to tamper with someone’s burial site.”

Zhu Yuanzhao was left speechless.

Yan Sanhe made a mental note of “Zhu Xuanjiu’s motive for targeting Geng Songsheng,” then asked:

“After you discovered your fate had been altered, why didn’t you go to the capital to expose him?”

“Right, why not settle accounts with him?”

Young Master Pei was also puzzled. “If it were me, even if it meant dying, I’d demand an explanation.”

Geng Songsheng looked elsewhere, seeming reluctant to speak.

After a long silence, he finally spoke: “When I was resting in that broken temple, shedding tears, I was seriously ill and thought I was dying.”

Zhu Weixi had just asked if it had been very hard—more than hard.

—

Since childhood, he’d never washed clothes or cooked; even tea was brought right to him.

When traveling before, he had a servant named Qingfeng who, though thin and small, could do everything—mend torn clothes, repair broken saddles.

Besides, carrying plenty of silver, he never suffered too much hardship.

After returning to the Geng family in despair, Qingfeng was the first to suffer—thirty lashes nearly cost him his life.

So when he left the Geng family, he only took a few sets of clothes and a little private silver.

Traveling requires money. When the silver ran out, he had to find work, earn some money, then continue his journey.

Once, he carried grain for a grain shop for three months. When settling accounts, the shopkeeper docked everyone two coins.

He refused to accept it and spoke up to argue with the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper eventually paid the full amount, but arranged for people to beat him halfway home and rob him of all his belongings.

Angry, resentful, and seriously injured, he felt he wouldn’t make it and struggled to crawl to a broken temple.

That night he developed a high fever. Delirious, he thought of the capital, of the Imperial Academy, of the good days before…

Tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

Geng Songsheng lifted his chin toward the old monk.

“That’s when he found me. His first words were that someone had taken my Star of Literary Excellence. I was so angry I coughed up blood and fainted.”

“I was the one who cured him.”

The old monk looked very proud of himself.

“It took considerable effort, yet this little brat doesn’t know gratitude, showing me a dead man’s face every day.”

“Don’t speak.”

Geng Songsheng glanced coldly at the old monk.

“He carried me into a Taoist temple and asked his Taoist friend to save me. Even so, I lay in bed for a full three months.”

Yan Sanhe’s teeth clenched hearing this. “They beat you so severely!”

The old monk snorted: “More than severe—they broke three of his ribs.”

“I told you not to speak!”

“If I don’t speak, they won’t know your misery or my goodness!”

After speaking, the old monk deliberately glanced at Zhu Weixi, his look seemingly saying: Women are nothing but calamity.

“It wasn’t misery—my previous days were too comfortable. This kind of thing happens daily in the Geng family. Which maid who makes a mistake, which servant who delivers the wrong message doesn’t get beaten?”

Geng Songsheng: “I didn’t settle accounts with Zhu Xuanjiu because, first, who would believe my words? Even my own parents didn’t believe me—everyone thought I was making excuses. Second…”

He glanced lightly at Zhu Weixi.

“She was willing to elope for my sake. Why should I disturb her heart with this matter? Besides, heaven’s wheel turns—retribution always comes. Look, hasn’t it arrived now!”

Zhu Weixi raised her tear-filled eyes.

“You shouldn’t have endured this for me. This concerned your entire future. I…”

“I didn’t endure it.”

Geng Songsheng interrupted: “I suddenly understood—this was a tribulation destined in my fate, unavoidable.”

Zhu Weixi’s heart twisted into knots.

“Then why did you take Buddhist vows?”