The time after waking from the afternoon nap was the most pleasant time of day for the twins.

Normally, the two would tend flowers and plants in the garden, climbing up and down, and no one would come to supervise them. But today, they had another important matter: to accompany Mother and wait together for Father to return.

Zhao shi was already sitting under the shade of a tree in the courtyard, doing needlework while keeping an ear out for movements outside the courtyard gate.

The twins also moved bamboo chairs over to sit.

Huaizuo couldn’t sit still and plucked a blade of grass to tease ants.

Huaiyou held a nine-ring puzzle in her hands, fiddling with it absently.

Little Huaiyou’s gaze would occasionally drift toward the shoe sole Zhao shi was stitching, and sometimes she would look up at the expression on Zhao shi’s face.

Xie Zhifei noticed that every time Zhao shi opened her mouth to speak, Huaiyou would stop what she was doing and listen carefully.

The courtyard gate creaked open, and Zheng Huantang walked in through the light and shadow.

“Father!”

Huaizuo darted out like a monkey.

Zhao shi tossed her needlework into the basket. Perhaps she stood up too abruptly—her body swayed.

A pair of small hands reached out to support her.

Huaiyou: “Mother, take it slowly.”

Zhao shi seemed not to hear, shook off her daughter’s hands, lifted her skirt hem and hurried to greet him.

Huaiyou’s slender little arms froze in midair. After freezing for a moment, she lowered her head, sniffled, and forcibly sucked back the tears welling up in her eyes.

Xie Zhifei’s heart ached uncontrollably.

“Sister, come quickly! Come look! Father bought you a double-six game! Come look!”

“Coming!”

Huaiyou looked up, sniffled again, forced a bit of a smile onto her face, then walked before Zheng Huantang, full of joy:

“Thank you, Father. Father worked hard today.”

“We’re family—no need for thanks.”

Zheng Huantang clearly enjoyed the feeling of having his principal wife and children all gathered around him. Also because he had seen his biological daughter at Water Moon Convent, his smile was genuinely radiant on his face.

“Go play with your brother.”

Hearing this, Huaizuo, as if receiving an imperial decree, waved the book in his hand at Huaiyou and winked:

“Let’s go to the study.”

Seeing the book, Huaiyou’s smile immediately became natural.

Still young after all, unable to resist halfway there, the brother gave the book to his sister, the sister gave the double-six game to her brother, and the two dove into the study.

Xie Zhifei didn’t follow them but instead went with the Zheng Huantang couple back to the courtyard, standing outside the gauze window of the side room.

“That child is doing well in every way. She’s grown much taller, her complexion is rosy white—clearly very healthy.”

Zheng Huantang removed his outer garment while talking to Zhao shi.

“When I was talking with her master Jingchen, she sat beside us. I don’t know if she was tired from being busy with the Ghost Festival preparations these past few days, but her head kept nodding as she dozed off.”

“Did you get to speak with her?”

“I did.”

Zheng Huantang: “I deliberately asked, ‘Young Master, I haven’t been sleeping well lately. Does the convent have any charm pouches that could help me sleep more soundly?'”

Zhao shi: “How did she answer?”

Zheng Huantang: “She said charm pouches aren’t very useful—as long as the benefactor thinks of nothing before sleep, they’ll be able to fall asleep.”

“Only eight years old, yet so mature like an adult.” Zhao shi took out a handkerchief to wipe her tears.

Seeing his principal wife wiping tears again, a sense of helplessness appeared on Zheng Huantang’s face. “Oh yes, today at the convent there was someone making donations, and also someone who could read faces.”

Zheng Huantang softened his voice.

“That person saw the child and, in front of Master Jingchen, said this child has the countenance of one with great fortune, and also said her good days are still ahead.”

“Really?”

“When have I ever deceived you?”

Zheng Huantang poured himself a cup of cool tea, took a sip, and said with a smile: “Perhaps Heaven is compensating her—who knows?”

Zhao shi was half-believing, half-doubting. “How does her master treat her?”

“When reciting Buddhist scriptures, Master Jingchen saw her yawning and told her to go rest in her room for a while. She refused, saying she wanted to accompany her master.”

Zheng Huantang: “The master-disciple relationship between them has been very good all these years. You don’t need to worry.”

Zhao shi sighed: “What use is good? One old nun, one young nun—what future can they have?”

The sense of helplessness rose again on Zheng Huantang’s features.

“She’s already eight years old. She can’t be a nun for her whole life, can she?”

Zhao shi walked before the man. “Never mind that child—let’s talk about our son. After this birthday, our son will be a full eight years old. What about his future prospects?”

Zhao shi wiped her tears: “Your Zheng family, one by one, all caring about that child—who’s caring about my son?”

Zheng Huantang: “Qingyun, Huaizuo’s fut—”

“Fifth Master, Fifth Master…”

“The wine and dishes I ordered have arrived. After we eat, I’ll discuss this with you in detail.”

Zheng Huantang lifted the beaded curtain and walked out. “Coming, coming…”

Zhao shi looked at the swaying beaded curtain, grinding her teeth: “It’s like this every time. Whenever this matter comes up, he runs away faster than anyone. You can’t bully people like this. You can’t.”

…

The food was delivered early. While the sky was still bright, Zheng Huantang arranged the birthday banquet in the courtyard.

A square small table, just right for a family of four.

Accustomed to eating home cooking, having outside food for once made not only the two children happy but also prompted Zhao shi to rarely praise it as delicious.

Huaiyou couldn’t eat it.

Zheng Huantang prepared a bowl of clear water for his daughter, telling her to rinse each dish in the water to remove the oil before eating.

Even so, Huaiyou ate with great relish.

Zhao shi normally didn’t drink alcohol, but today she asked the man for wine.

Zheng Huantang couldn’t refuse her face in front of the children, but worried she’d drink too much and say things she shouldn’t. He subtly reminded her:

“Just drink a little. Don’t drink too much.”

“It’s the children’s birthday. As a mother, I’m happy. It’s fine even if I drink too much.”

Zhao shi reached past him, took the wine pot herself and filled her own cup.

Xie Zhifei noticed that she had indeed put on that new bamboo-green colored garment, her hair coiled without a single strand out of place.

After two pots of wine were finished, Zheng Huantang took away Zhao shi’s wine cup and said gently: “No more drinking. Have some food. Huaizuo, serve your mother some rice.”

Zhao shi suddenly smiled. “Let Huaiyou serve it.”

Huaiyou first froze, as if not daring to believe her own ears, then put down her bowl and chopsticks, saying joyfully: “Mother, I’ll help you serve it.”

She served a large half bowl and handed it over with both hands. Huaiyou asked uncertainly, “Mother, is this enough? Should I add a little more?”

“It’s enough.”

Zhao shi reached out to take it. The instant her fingers touched the bowl, she suddenly let go.

The bowl fell and shattered.

Everyone was shocked.

Zhao shi let out an “Ai ya” sound and sneered coldly:

“In other families, eight-year-old children help their masters do this and that. Our family’s child can’t even hold a rice bowl steady. Fine, fine, fine—I won’t eat this meal!”

“Zhao Qingyun!”

Zheng Huantang stood up and gathered the startled Huaiyou into his arms. “Huaizuo, your mother is drunk. Help your mother inside.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m very clearheaded, Zheng Huantang. I’m more clearheaded than ever.”

Zhao shi pointed at Zheng Huantang’s nose.

“Your Zheng family won’t let me go out, won’t let me speak. After bullying my daughter, you bully my son. Eight years—one by one, you’ve all been too excessive!”

The wine had flushed Zhao shi’s face somewhat red, as if a layer of rouge had been applied.

From Xie Zhifei’s angle, it wasn’t bright or moving—only pitiable and pathetic.