A dull ache throbbed at the back of his head, accompanied by intermittent sobbing that gradually guided him back to consciousness.
Qi Zhaoye groggily opened his eyes, feeling something wet on his hand. Turning his head, he saw his tear-streaked younger brother clutching his hand, having cried all over it.
Qi Yuchen had changed into clean clothes, his hair tied into two buns on either side of his head, making him look like a lucky doll from a New Year painting.
“Brother, don’t die…” he whimpered, his head barely reaching the height of the bed as he leaned over the edge, his eyes swollen from crying.
Qi Zhaoye replied wearily, “I won’t die.”
He tried to lift his other hand to pat Qi Yuchen’s head, only to realize his entire wrist was throbbing with pain. Looking down, he saw it was swollen into a large lump—fractured by Qi Dayong’s grip.
Qi Zhaoye had never suffered such an injury before. He wanted to cry, but in front of his younger brother, he had to shoulder the responsibility of an elder brother. Revealing even a hint of vulnerability would shatter the fragile peace of this moment.
Once he calmed down, he noticed the unfamiliar ceiling beams overhead. The bed and room furnishings were far too simple.
This wasn’t his bedroom, nor was it one of the vacant courtyards in the family estate.
Qi Zhaoye raised his uninjured hand to wipe Qi Yuchen’s tear-stained face. “Yuchen, stop crying for now. Do you know where we are? How did we end up here?”
Qi Yuchen sniffled twice, his voice still trembling with tears. “Qi Dayong threw us out through the back gate. It was Zhegui, your attendant, who carried you here and rented this place for us to stay.”
Zhegui…
Qi Zhaoye felt a slight sense of relief.
Zhegui had been by his side for four years—reliable and clever. Whenever his father neglected him, Zhegui was always there to offer comfort.
“Where is Zhegui now?” Qi Zhaoye wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there. The swelling in his wrist and the dull ache in the back of his head kept flaring up, making him grit his teeth in pain.
He wanted to know more details. About today’s incident—whether he should seek out Er Shugong to deal with Qi Dayong or report it to the authorities.
He had to reclaim his home.
Qi Yuchen sobbed softly, “You wouldn’t wake up, so Zhegui went to fetch a doctor.”
Hearing this, Qi Zhaoye sighed in relief. It was right to call a doctor first to treat his injuries, and then…
Before he could finish the thought, darkness engulfed him, and he fainted once more.
Not long after, Zhegui returned with a doctor, who set Qi Zhaoye’s fractured bone and examined the bruise on the back of his head. The doctor wrote out a prescription—one dose of medicine would cost one tael of silver.
Zhegui was merely a servant, earning only two taels a month. But considering Qi Zhaoye was still his young master, he gritted his teeth and bought one dose of medicine, boiled it, and fed it to him.
After drinking the medicine, Qi Zhaoye regained consciousness.
Looking at Qi Yuchen and Zhegui sitting by his bedside, he knew these were the only two people he could rely on now. He needed to recover quickly so he could plead his case to his uncles.
After all, Qi Dayong had been chosen by his uncles. Whether to handle the matter privately or send him back to the main family was for his uncles to decide.
But now, there was a more pressing problem: he was hungry.
He had fainted in the afternoon, and it was now noon the next day. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since then, and his younger brother, who had been by his side, had stopped crying—too weak from hunger.
He asked Zhegui to buy some food, but Zhegui replied, “This servant used all the silver on hand to buy medicine for you, young master…”
With empty pockets, how could Qi Zhaoye insist?
So he asked, “Can you still return to the estate?”
Zhegui said, “This servant has some connections with the gatekeepers. With a bit of discreet arrangement, I can still go back.”
Qi Zhaoye hesitated, but given his own limited mobility and Qi Yuchen’s young age—afraid the boy might not even remember what was said earlier, let alone sneak back into the mansion to do anything—he thought it over carefully and said earnestly, “Then go back to the mansion once. In my study, on the cabinet, inside that celadon vase, there are some scattered silver pieces I put in during my leisure time. Fetch them all. It should be enough to sustain us for a while.”
Zhegui had also been worrying about money. Upon hearing this, his eyes immediately lit up, and he promptly agreed to carry out the task.
“Brother…” Qi Yuchen, listless and weary, his swollen eyelids drooping weakly, nestled under Qi Zhaoye’s arm, whimpering softly, “Did Father and Aunt abandon us?”
Qi Zhaoye remained silent, his face stubbornly set, gently patting his younger brother’s back.
“It’s alright. We’ll be able to go home soon.”
“Sleep for a while now. Once Brother recovers from his illness, we’ll go home together.”
Qi Yuchen drowsily closed his eyes, murmuring plaintively, “Brother, I miss Mother…”
He didn’t even remember what his mother looked like, nor had he ever been cherished by her. How could he truly miss that person? It was merely the difficult and helpless situation he found himself in now, longing for a warm refuge like a mother’s embrace.
Qi Zhaoye’s eyes grew moist, but he could only remain silent.
Zhegui soon returned with the scattered silver pieces and, along the way, bought hot oil cakes and roast chicken. The three of them ate a full meal.
After the meal, Qi Zhaoye wrote a letter of grievance and sent Zhegui to deliver it to Er Shugong’s home. The letter detailed how Qi Dayong and his wife had acted unreasonably and tyrannically, oppressing the two brothers and seizing family property. He pleaded with Er Shugong to swiftly expel those two thieves from Qi Jia.
Zhegui went to deliver the letter and returned an hour later, relaying Er Shugong’s words to him.
“He said that the couple was chosen after discussion among the three families. If they acted improperly, they would naturally be sent back and expelled from the family. However, Uncle Er Shugong needs to discuss the matter carefully with the other uncles and elders and will give a reply in a few days. For now, he asks the young master to focus on recovering from his injuries.”
Er Shugong’s reply seemed reasonable enough, but Qi Zhaoye couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It seemed as though there was an inexplicable distance between Er Shugong and the two brothers.
Upon learning that the children were injured, he didn’t come to visit in person but only sent a few indifferent words through a messenger.
Knowing that Qi Dayong and his wife were not good people, he still didn’t resolve the matter immediately but insisted on waiting. What was there to discuss?
The two children had been driven out of their home, accompanied only by a young servant, and might not even have warm meals to eat. Yet the elders remained tight-lipped about it, avoiding the topic altogether…
If Qi Zhaoye had delved deeper into these matters, he would have noticed many anomalies. But a flower raised in a greenhouse, even upon seeing snow, would only find it beautiful, unable to see through the ice crystals the impending winter that could destroy them.
Qi Zhaoye simply felt exhausted and uncomfortable all over. The early summer heat was already oppressive, and with his injuries confining him to bed, his back was damp with sweat.
Opening his eyes meant facing many unknown fears, with nowhere to hide. He could only close them and fall asleep, hoping for a brief respite in his dreams.
Five days later, the bruise on the back of Qi Zhaoye’s head had improved significantly, and the swelling and pain in his left hand had subsided. He then took Qi Yuchen and Zhegui to Er Shugong’s home to demand an explanation.
Two children, one older and one younger, arrived at the gate. Their silk round-collared robes, unwashed and unchanged for days, looked dull and dusty.
The gatekeeper recognized them. With a glance at their shabby attire, he let out an almost imperceptible snort through his nose. Instead of greeting them, he said, “The Elder Master is out socializing and isn’t home at the moment. Please come back tomorrow.”
Qi Zhaoye stepped forward. “If Er Shugong isn’t here, are the aunts and sisters-in-law at home? I’d like to sit with them for a while.”
The gatekeeper raised a hand to block him, his expression disdainful. “Young master, please don’t jest. Without an invitation, how can we casually let you in? Besides, our own young masters and ladies keep the aunts fully occupied. They have no time to spare for outsiders.”
Qi Zheng had died in defeat. The war in the northern frontier remained deadlocked, and the Emperor had expressed no opinion on Qi Zheng’s death, revealing his disappointment.
A dead father was a useless pawn.
What use were two young children left behind?
Every elder in Qi Jia had seen the situation clearly, making arrangements for themselves. Only two ignorant children remained in the dark, still hoping someone would lend them a hand—all because Qi Zheng, while alive, had never regarded his clansmen with respect. Now, after his death, his two sons were left to suffer this fate.
With smooth talk, the gatekeeper refused to let the brothers enter and wouldn’t allow them to wait at the gate either.
Even Qi Zhaoye, naive as he was, could see the gatekeeper’s contempt. Yet, he had to seek help from others now, with no one to rely on. He didn’t dare speak a single harsh word and had no choice but to leave.
The June breeze should have been warm, but Qi Zhaoye felt chilled to the bone.
After his father’s death, many people around him had changed.
Why was this happening…?
Qi Zhaoye couldn’t find an answer. Soon, he ran out of silver again and sent Zhegui back to Qifu secretly to steal some valuable items from his courtyard, pawning them to make ends meet.
This couldn’t go on. Unwilling to wait any longer for Er Shugong’s uncertain “resolution,” he drafted a petition, planning to go to the yamen the next day to accuse Qi Dayong.
That very night, Xingbu issued an official document.
Early the next morning, as Qi Zhaoye was preparing to go to Shuntian Fuya, Zhegui rushed back and stopped him.
Setting down the breakfast he had bought outside, Zhegui said breathlessly, “Just now, as I passed the main gate, I saw it surrounded by soldiers. There was a commotion inside—it looked like a raid!”
“How could there be a raid?” Qi Zhaoye was stunned.
Zhegui frowned deeply. “Before I came back, I asked around. People said the court had been investigating a corruption case for months. A few days ago, a witness confessed that our General accepted bribes and allowed substandard military supplies, which led to the defeat…”
“Now everyone outside is saying the General volunteered for the front lines because he was afraid others would discover the tampered supplies. He was guilty… He didn’t die in battle but took his own life because he knew the investigation was closing in on him, fearing he’d return in disgrace.”
Qi Zhaoye’s heart trembled at these words.
“Father was nothing like that!” he exclaimed angrily, clenching his fists. At his tender age, even his clenched hands were slender and pale—utterly powerless against the spreading rumors.
He ran out of the courtyard, wanting to seek out the officials to demand justice for his father. He rushed all the way to the gates of Qifu, where he saw several chests of valuables being carried out one after another. Qi Dayong and his wife, along with their precious son, were tied together with ropes and escorted out of the mansion by the officials.
“There must be some misunderstanding here. We have nothing to do with Qi Zheng. We were only staying at the mansion temporarily. How could we have known he was involved in corruption? This is unjust, my lord!”
Qi Dayong was shoved out the door by the officials, wailing and lamenting. Behind him, Wang Shi held their son with a pained expression.
“Whoever is doing this to us is truly cursed!”
No matter how innocent they claimed to be, the officials remained unmoved. Before arriving, Xingbu had already checked the household registry. The man had been adopted by Qi Zheng and was recorded under his name, so he had to be apprehended.
The official in charge of the confiscation mounted his horse and turned back to remind the couple, “The emperor’s decree is to confiscate the property and arrest the family. Qi Zheng’s parents and descendants—males aged fourteen and above are to be exiled, females aged fourteen and above are to be enslaved as government servants. As for young children, they may be spared.”
It was a reminder for them to arrange for their child to be placed elsewhere, but the couple was too busy wailing about their injustice to heed his words.
Qi Zhaoye stood among the crowd and heard it all.
He was too weak, so weak that he didn’t even have the strength to push his way to the front of the officials, unable to utter a single word in defense of his father’s tarnished name.
This “mercy” was nothing more than a dismissive disregard for his insignificance.
Watching as his home was emptied of both people and possessions, and the gates of Qifu were sealed with a large strip of paper, he struggled to squeeze through the narrow gaps in the crowd and ran toward the official on horseback.
The onlookers were held back by the officials at the periphery, the crowd surging like waves. Qi Zhaoye was only as tall as an adult’s waist, and he was soon swept away by the throng, losing his sense of direction.
He was jostled for a long time until the officials conducting the confiscation had all left, and the surrounding spectators gradually dispersed in small groups. Only then did Qi Zhaoye manage to free himself from the dense crush.
His hair was disheveled from the pushing, and his clothes were filthy. Those around him glanced at him but failed to connect him with the once dignified and proper eldest son of Qifu. Some who recognized him looked at him with pity—nothing more than pity.
Qi Zhaoye had come alone, and now he returned alone to the rented small courtyard, his feet aching from the long walk.
Exhausted, he rubbed his dry eyes and saw the breakfast on the table, untouched and already cold.
He woke Qi Yuchen to eat and called out twice for Zhegui in the courtyard, but there was no response.
Qi Zhaoye took a bite of a meat bun, thinking Zhegui must have gone out to buy supplies, and paid it no mind. But then he heard Qi Yuchen mumble sleepily.
“Brother, I just heard the cabinet creaking. Are there mice?”
“This place is clean; there are no mice.” Qi Zhaoye wiped his brother’s mouth with his sleeve. As soon as the words left his mouth, a sense of foreboding rose in his heart.
He hurriedly got up and went to the cabinet.
As his fingers touched the edge of the hidden compartment, he still held a sliver of hope. He opened the mechanism, but the drawer he pulled out was empty—all the valuable possessions were gone!
Author’s Note: