Only the three of them lived in this courtyard. Since Qi Yuchen didn’t even know how to open the hidden compartment, it must have been Zhegui who secretly watched and learned where he kept the money.
With Qifu fallen, Zhegui realized there was no hope of returning to the mansion and took away the last of his savings…
The boy’s tender palm pressed against the cabinet as his forehead slumped weakly against it. His drooping bangs hid his exhausted, helpless expression. Two large teardrops fell from his eyes, splashing onto the ground.
What should he do? What could he do?
Report it to the authorities? They were now the sons of a convicted official. Even if the government could help catch the thief, any recovered property would be confiscated due to their father’s crimes—not a single coin would be returned to them.
He took a sharp breath, holding back his tears. Lifting his head, he turned away from Qi Yuchen, wiped the corners of his eyes, and forced himself to appear normal. Returning to the dining table, he continued chewing on the now-cold meat buns—this might be their last decent meal.
After eating, Qi Zhaoye walked to the well in the courtyard and looked down at the still water below.
He rolled up his sleeves, mustered all his strength to turn the windlass, and worked for a long time until he was drenched in sweat. Finally, he drew half a bucket of water, poured it into a basin, and placed it under the sun to warm.
After warming two basins of water this way, he called Qi Yuchen out to bathe and wash his hair.
Once finished, he had him sit on a small stool. “Yuchen, stay here and sunbathe for a while. Don’t move around, or you’ll get dirty again—then no one will want you.”
Qi Yuchen blinked his big eyes, sitting obediently with his bare bottom.
Father and Auntie weren’t coming back, the servants from the mansion were nowhere to be seen, and even Zhegui had left. Only his older brother remained… Qi Yuchen sniffled slightly, a hint of sadness appearing on his chubby little face. Watching his brother washing clothes under the sun, he felt that his brother was so capable—he would surely lead him back home.
It was Qi Zhaoye’s first time washing clothes. He didn’t know to use soap pods, relying only on his strength to scrub them in the water. Nor did he know they needed to be rinsed twice. The two children lacked the strength to wring the clothes dry and couldn’t reach the clothesline, so they had to drape the wrinkled garments over the back of a chair.
Fortunately, the summer sun was hot, and the clothes dried before the wrinkles could set. Once dressed and with their hair neatly combed, they set out again.
“Brother, where are we going?” Qi Yuchen toddled along on his short legs behind Qi Zhaoye.
Qi Zhaoye held his hand. “To find the elders of Qi Jia and ask them to take us in.”
“Can’t we take a carriage?”
Qi Yuchen still had the spoiled temperament of a child. Back home, he would run and jump around the garden tirelessly, but now, after walking just one street, he was already tired.
Qi Zhaoye slowed his pace and explained gently, “Father is gone. We have nothing left and must find a way to support ourselves. When we meet our relatives later, behave well and don’t cry or fuss. If you upset them, they’ll be even less willing to help us.”
Qi Yuchen nodded, only half-understanding.
The two walked down the long street and took a shortcut through a narrow alley. By chance, they caught a glimpse of several young beggars lying inside—around the same age as the brothers, with disheveled hair, tattered clothes, and covered in filth.
Qi Zhaoye only glanced at them before quickening his pace and leading Qi Yuchen away from that place.
He feared the young beggars might band together to beg for food, but even more than that…
He looked down at his own still-clean clothes, instinctively smoothing the stray hairs at his temples and straightening his back: He was not like them.
He would not be unwanted; he was clever, and his relatives all liked him. He would find support for himself and his younger brother.
With a heart full of hope and pride, the child knocked on one tightly shut door after another.
“Qi Zheng is now a convicted official. How could my master associate privately with the son of a criminal? If you know what’s good for you, leave now, or I’ll have someone drive you off this street!”
“How pitiful. But my household has many mouths to feed—how could we take in so many children? Do you have any valuables left? Shops or farmland? Taking you in carries no small risk. We can’t just raise you for nothing, can we?”
“Who are your relatives? Where did these children come from, causing trouble? I don’t know you. Get out of here…”
“Qi Dayong has already been arrested and exiled. How are you two still wandering around? Did you escape from the soldiers? Someone, go report to the authorities! Hurry and arrest these two sons of a criminal!”
Qi Zhaoye was exhausted and hungry. No matter how he explained, no one listened. He could only take his younger brother and flee.
None of the Qi family’s relatives were willing to help. His dignity and hope were trampled into the ground, and the vibrant, beating heart of a youth felt as if it were being torn apart.
Once the pride of heaven, he had fallen to this state.
Treated as a poor relative begging for scraps, driven away like a beggar, scrutinized by those sharp, disdainful eyes, spat upon as if he were lower than the insects in the corner—he wished he could die on the spot.
But if he died, what would happen to Qi Yuchen?
So, clinging to his last breath, he arrived outside the Liu family’s gate.
The gatekeeper of the Liu family was relatively polite, smiling as he asked the two to wait outside while he went in to deliver the message.
Qi Zhaoye had nowhere else to go. He obediently stood beside the stone lion and waited. He saw the gatekeeper enter the main gate but did not hear footsteps continuing deeper inside. Instead, he faintly heard two chuckles from behind the door.
He stepped onto the stairs and, peering through the crack in the door, overheard deliberately hushed voices.
“Second Miss guessed right—they really came.”
“Now that they’re here, hurry and find a trafficker. Deal with them quickly so they don’t drag anyone else down.”
“Exactly. Our young master still needs to pursue his scholarly career. How can he be associated with a criminal? Thankfully, the eldest Miss died early; otherwise, it would be impossible to cut ties cleanly with the Qi family now.”
Qi Zhaoye’s eyes widened in horror. A cold chill shot up his spine to the top of his head, freezing him in place.
Even if he didn’t know what a trafficker did, he could sense the malice in their conversation.
Suppressing his fear, he stepped away from the door, descended the stairs, grabbed Qi Yuchen, and ran. His hands and feet turned cold, and he even forgot to breathe.
The true faces of his relatives were too hideous. The solemn promises and the vision of mutual support were all lies. His teacher’s saying, “All pursuits are inferior, only studying is exalted,” was also a lie… He could read and write, yet no one was willing to take him in, and he couldn’t find work to earn money.
Beneath those indifferent, calculating gazes—whether from close or distant relatives—lay nothing but naked self-interest.
To others, he was worthless.
In a single day, the two brothers had visited several households. Their feet ached from walking, and as they trudged back to their lodgings under the fading sunset, their steps were unsteady.
Qi Yuchen was both hungry and exhausted, his originally plump and fair little face now pale and drained of color. He walked while crying, but remembering his brother’s warning not to make a fuss, he bit his lip to stifle his sobs, whimpering softly as tears pattered down his cheeks.
Qi Zhaoye, looking dazed, picked him up and carried him for a while, but soon grew too weak from hunger to continue, setting him down again.
There was no food—where could they get money?
So hungry…
Qi Zhaoye couldn’t think of anything else, only wanting to return to their lodging and lie down until tomorrow. If he could fall asleep, he wouldn’t feel the hunger.
Unexpectedly, as they reached the courtyard gate, they saw a stranger emerge from inside, close the gate, and lock it from the outside.
Shocked, Qi Zhaoye stepped forward to inquire and learned that Zhegui had only rented the place for seven days, and today was the final day. The landlord had come to reclaim the property, and finding no one there, had locked the door.
“If you want to extend the lease, it’s fifty wen per day. If you plan to stay longer, we can negotiate the price.”
After the landlord spoke, the two brothers hung their heads in embarrassment, unable to utter a word of plea.
The landlord clicked his tongue. “If you don’t have cash, the silk clothes you’re wearing are worth something. If you give me the clothes, I’ll let you stay for two more days.”
How could they go about without clothes?
Qi Zhaoye firmly shook his head.
It was summer—they could sleep outside. In past summers, he had often slept on a cool mat under the shade of trees.
He rejected the landlord’s offer and led Qi Yuchen out of the alley.
As night fell, Qi Yuchen no longer had the energy to cry. Dazed and weary, his soft, chubby hand tightly gripped his brother’s finger. “Brother, why aren’t we going home?”
They no longer had a home.
Homeless, wandering the streets…
Qi Zhaoye recalled the young beggars he had glimpsed during the day, and a vague, bewildering fear rose in his heart: no one wanted them. He and Qi Yuchen were about to become beggars.
At this thought, tears welled in his eyes. Through blurred vision, he desperately tried to think of anyone they could turn to.
Whether close or distant, rich or poor—as long as they had a shred of kindness and were willing to take in the two brothers, even if it meant making him a pageboy or a servant, as long as they had a place to stay and a warm meal, he would do anything.
Walking along the street, he saw hurried passersby, shopkeepers on both sides looking up with smiling faces as they solicited business, their gazes naturally sweeping past the two unsupervised children.
In the shadows of the wall corners were clusters of beggars.
Qi Zhaoye led Qi Yuchen through them, seeing those unfamiliar faces for the first time.
When they had wealth and status, they rode in carriages when going out, were flattered upon entering shops, and were met with friendly smiles and endless praise. Now, having lost everything, they were like specks of dust on the road—ignored and despised by everyone.
Who would care about them?
After walking for so long, Qi Zhaoye couldn’t think of a single person.
As night deepened, the streets gradually emptied. Qi Zhaoye found an unoccupied corner by a wall, huddled with Qi Yuchen, and listened to the rumbling of their empty stomachs as they drifted into an exhausted sleep.
“He’s already nine years old, why would he need to be carried?”
A gentle breeze brushed past his ear, carrying his father’s ethereal, lingering voice, drawing nearer and nearer. Unlike the stern and somber tone he remembered, it now held a touch of affectionate reproach in its cadence.
“It’s not like I can’t carry him, why make him suffer?” The woman’s voice was soft and gentle, her light laughter like silver bells. The vibration from her chest spread through his arm, making his back itch, his heart filled to the brim.
“Zhao’er is a good child, just a bit too sensible. He hasn’t grown up yet, but he’s already learned to shoulder things on his own.” She spoke softly, bouncing him gently in her arms.
Her fragrant fingertip touched his brow as she coaxed him tenderly, “With your father and me here, we won’t let Zhao’er bear things alone.”
Qi Zhaoye couldn’t see her face clearly, but he caught the scent of apricot blossoms lingering in the air—light and beautiful like her, white tinged with pink, fresh and elegant, like the most beautiful spring day, everything warm as if reborn.
“Auntie…” He clung timidly to her shoulder, murmuring softly.
He woke to a cool moon hanging overhead, illuminating the night sky.
Only the sound of the silent wind remained in his ears.
Qi Zhaoye glanced at Qi Yuchen, who was curled up asleep in his arms, then lowered his eyes, feeling both melancholy and conflicted: Why did he dream of that woman? He didn’t like her at all…
As he thought this, he unconsciously closed his eyes, trying to recapture the peaceful happiness of the dream, but he couldn’t pick up where it left off.
Qi Zhaoye gritted his teeth silently.
He shouldn’t have called out to her. If he hadn’t, he might have been able to prolong the sweet dream, letting it last through the night.
He remembered her name—Qing Luan.
Perhaps the perfection he experienced in the dream was too beautiful, lingering in his mind for so long that it gave him the idea of “trying to seek her out.” After all, at this point, he had no one else to turn to.
He didn’t want to be a beggar. He wanted food and a place to stay. He had to try.
As soon as dawn broke, Qi Zhaoye carried the still-sleeping Qi Yuchen on his back and hurried toward Yujie. He couldn’t wait to see her, to get an answer, whether good or bad.
When he arrived, all he saw was a locked door.
“You’re looking for the lady who lived here? She moved away a long time ago.”
“She left over half a month ago. Poor thing, she was someone’s mistress. Who would have thought the man would die? With no status, no support, what was she supposed to do staying here? She had no choice but to return to her hometown.”
Over half a month—she left quietly during the two days when his father’s coffin was brought to the capital for burial.
Standing outside the locked door, Qi Zhaoye felt a bitter ache in his heart, thinking himself a fool.
So she had left long ago.
More heartless and colder than anyone else.
He hated her, just as he hated all the relatives who turned a blind eye and broke their promises. Yet the sour ache rising in his throat choked him, and the tears of despair surged far more fiercely than his hatred.
Author’s Note: