Wenlan Garden.
“The heir hasn’t been back for half a year, but Wenlan Garden has been kept in perfect order, just like when you left,” Xi Ping said.
Lu Shiji stepped into the study, his gaze sweeping over the familiar furnishings.
Ever since he inherited the title three years ago, he had moved out of Wenlan Garden and into the main residence of the Duke’s mansion, Cheng’an Hall.
“It’s true, it’s been a long time,” Lu Shiji said coldly.
Xi Ping couldn’t help but glance at the heir. Somehow, in just half a year, he seemed even colder, his presence more oppressive, making one instinctively shiver.
Lu Shiji’s eyes landed on a tray on the table holding a plate of fresh lychees.
Xi Ping noticed and hurried to explain, “These were sent by Madam Shen, just brought to the capital. There are only twenty in total, and Madam Shen said since you’ve been working hard outside, half should be sent to you.”
Lu Shiji lifted the corner of his lips. His stepmother was still as thorough as ever.
No wonder everyone praised her as kind and virtuous.
In his previous life, she had sent him a similar plate of lychees when he returned to the capital. How had he dealt with it?
His memory was a little hazy—Madam Shen had been dead for so long, he hardly remembered her.
Thinking carefully, he recalled—he had ordered it thrown away.
Back then, he was still young, holding onto his hatred, unable to accept her false kindness.
Now, looking at the fresh lychees, he felt nothing.
Perhaps because he had already killed Madam Shen once, or because he knew she would die by his hand eventually.
Those he once hated to the bone now only stirred a cold indifference.
He lifted his hand to press over his left chest, feeling the lingering pain from the dagger once plunged into his heart.
Three days ago, he woke up to find he had been reborn, back to three years ago, just after quelling the rebellion in Dingzhou, on his way back to the capital.
Today, returning to the Duke’s mansion, everything looked the same as in his past life.
His grandmother, anxiously awaiting him; the stern and distant Duke; the deceitful and cruel Madam Shen; and…
He pressed his hand tighter to his chest, knuckles whitening, his face darkening.
And Shen Lichu, just arriving at the Duke’s mansion.
He had wondered if she had also been reborn, but seeing her clear, innocent eyes, he knew she hadn’t.
This innocent and spoiled Shen Lichu—he hadn’t seen her like this in a long time.
Lu Shiji lowered his gaze, and the pain in his chest seemed to ease slightly.
“The heir, Miss Song has arrived,” Xi Ping announced.
Lu Shiji’s voice was calm: “Please, let her in.”
Song Qinghe hurried in, barely able to hide her eager joy. “Brother Shiji.”
Song Qinghe’s mother and Lu Shiji’s mother, Lady Wang, had been closest friends. Later, an accident killed her parents.
Lady Wang worried the girl would be mistreated without parents, so she brought her to be raised in the Duke’s mansion.
Even after Lady Wang passed away, Song Qinghe stayed. In a household as large and influential as the Lu family, one adopted daughter was nothing.
When Song Qinghe came of marriageable age, Madam Shen arranged for her to marry.
Her husband was decent at first but later revealed his true nature: gambling, womanizing, and abusive when drunk.
At the time of her marriage, Lu Shiji was consumed with hatred and ambition, too busy to care for her.
It was only later that Song Qinghe came to him, tearfully explaining her suffering.
“Brother Shiji, just now at the family feast, Madam and the Duke were present, so I didn’t dare speak freely. You’ve been away for half a year, and I heard the Dingzhou rebels were brutal. I couldn’t help but worry—did you get hurt?” Song Qinghe’s gaze was full of concern.
The rebels had indeed been fierce and troublesome, otherwise it wouldn’t have taken so long.
When he was quelling the rebellion, he had been hit by stray arrows, but nothing serious—definitely not fatal.
“I’m fine,” Lu Shiji said in a calm voice.
Song Qinghe let out a relieved sigh. “That’s good. I’m sure it’s thanks to your aunt watching over you from heaven.”
The aunt she mentioned was naturally Lu Shiji’s late mother, Lady Wang. She had cared deeply for Song Qinghe, bringing her to the Duke’s mansion and treating her like her own daughter. Even on her deathbed, she had told Lu Shiji to take good care of her.
Lu Shiji asked, “Has anything happened to you in the mansion?”
Song Qinghe felt a little happy and shook her head gently. “The Grandmother takes good care of me. I think Madam Shen doesn’t dare treat me badly because of your rising influence, Brother Shiji.”
“That’s good.”
Song Qinghe noticed the tray of lychees on the table and looked curious. “These are…”
“Sent by Madam Shen,” Lu Shiji said, glancing at it briefly before looking away. “Take them and eat.”
Her eyes lit up, and she smiled softly. “I’ve never had lychees before. Thank you, Brother Shiji.”
Lu Shiji opened some documents. “If nothing else, you can go now.”
Song Qinghe paused, hesitated, then spoke again. “I heard Madam Shen might be trying to arrange a marriage for you, Brother Shiji.”
His fingers paused on the papers, but he didn’t look up.
She glanced at his expression and continued carefully, “It seems Madam Shen wants her family’s niece married to you. That woman is cruel, and I’m sure her niece is no ordinary person either. You should be careful.”
Lu Shiji thought of the dagger Shen Lichu had plunged into his chest, and a chill flashed in his eyes.
“I know,” he said coldly.
Song Qinghe relaxed slightly and moved her lips to ask about his plans for the marriage but stopped when she saw his expression was faintly cold.
“All right, I’ll go first then,” she said, picking up the tray and leaving.
Once outside Wenlan Garden, her maid whispered, “Miss, why didn’t you ask the heir’s thoughts?”
“Brother Shiji is busy with state affairs. I shouldn’t trouble him with trivial matters,” Song Qinghe replied.
She was always careful around him. They had grown up together, childhood friends, and she considered herself the person closest to him in the entire mansion.
Outsiders called the Ning heir noble and untouchable, but she knew the truth—he was cold to the bone. The closer you got, the colder he seemed.
“But now he’s so influential in the capital, and so many noble girls are watching this marriage. Even Madam Shen’s niece came to compete…”
Song Qinghe felt a little flustered, but she said sharply, “Brother Shiji has always been cautious. He wouldn’t marry some high-born girl just for her family, especially…”
Her eyes flickered with a hint of sarcasm. “That Shen Lichu? Just a pretty face and a good family, a clueless vase. And she’s only Madam Shen’s niece. How could Brother Shiji ever be interested in her?”
“You’re right. Who in the world understands the heir better than you?”
Song Qinghe looked at him with longing. They had grown up together, and in his hardest times, she had always been by his side. By now, she was the most important person in his life.
Those other shallow women could never compare.
The maid added, “Yes, look at these lychees, such a precious treat. The heir sent them directly to you. He really cares about you.”
Song Qinghe smiled faintly, holding the tray. She and the other women—there was simply no comparison.
In the study.
Lu Shiji leaned back in the grand chair, his long fingers tightening over the armrest, veins faintly standing out. His face was dark and brooding.
Shen Lichu… how should I deal with you?