Could someone who only knew how to indulge in pleasure suddenly become diligent and intelligent?
After reviewing the Queen Dowager’s daily records, Ying Zheng’s doubts not only remained unresolved but grew even more perplexing.
He absolutely refused to believe that the Queen Dowager could suddenly abandon her old vices, nor did he think she possessed any real wisdom—unless she wasn’t the Queen Dowager at all.
If she wasn’t the Queen Dowager, who could have replaced her without anyone noticing?
Ying Zheng thought of Lü Buwei, but Marquis Wenxin had already been expelled from Xianyang.
Moreover, a Queen Dowager under house arrest, aged and faded in beauty—any sensible person would know she no longer held any value.
Lü Buwei was a shrewd man; he wouldn’t engage in such a losing venture.
Since the problem didn’t lie with others, he had to seek answers from the Queen Dowager herself.
“Prepare the carriage. I am going to Yongcheng.”
He was determined to see exactly who was residing in Yongcheng!
By the time Zhao Yuanxi returned from the paper mill, it was almost mealtime.
Ever since Ziying had tasted her cooking, he had refused to eat meals prepared by anyone else. Zhao Yuanxi rolled up her sleeves, planning to make bamboo shoot and pork rib soup for him today, with a simple bowl of oil-splashed noodles as the main course.
Compared to the tenderness of spring bamboo shoots, June bamboo shoots had a clearer, sweeter flavor, making them more suitable for soup and adding depth to the broth.
Zhao Yuanxi placed the blanched pork ribs and sliced bamboo shoots into a clay pot, poured in mountain spring water, added ginger slices and scallion segments, and let it simmer.
Just as she was about to start kneading the dough, Ziying suddenly appeared from somewhere, dragging a small stool with him.
He stood beside Zhao Yuanxi, his face full of anticipation. “Da Mu, can I try?”
Zhao Yuanxi looked at his flour-dusted little face and found it utterly adorable. “Have you washed your hands?”
Ziying proudly displayed his ten fingers, beaming innocently. “Yes!”
Zhao Yuanxi smiled affectionately, pinching off a small piece of dough for him.
Ziying imitated her movements, gripping a rolling pin thicker than his arm, slowly flattening the dough, and then attempting to stretch it—
By the time Zhao Yuanxi had finished preparing her noodles and dropped them into the pot, Ziying stared at his torn piece of dough, deeply puzzled.
He could only turn to Zhao Yuanxi for help. “Da Mu.”
Zhao Yuanxi couldn’t hold back her laughter. She took the misshapen dough from Ziying, kneaded it back into a ball, rolled it into a tongue shape, and guided his hands to stretch it gently. “Take it slow. Use a lighter touch.”
As her hands moved up and down, the dough grew thinner and longer, eventually stretching into wide noodles.
“All done! Now it’s my turn.” Zhao Yuanxi tossed the noodles into the boiling water and patted Ziying’s bottom, signaling for him to step aside.
Ziying obediently dragged his little stool to the doorway, resting his chin in his hands as he watched Zhao Yuanxi continue her work.
Ying Zheng had imagined countless scenarios of meeting her, but he never expected to witness this scene.
Standing under a tree, he watched the busy figure inside. Memories from his childhood intertwined with the present, and he found it utterly absurd.
The person inside was definitely not his mother. Ying Zheng clenched his fists, but that face—could there really be two identical faces in the world?
Rage surged in his eyes; he longed to tear off that woman’s disguise and see the true face beneath.
“Are you here to see Da Mu?” Ziying leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head curiously.
The innocent child’s voice interrupted the dark thoughts brewing in Ying Zheng’s mind.
Ying Zheng said with a cold expression, “You call her Da Mu?”
Ziying shrank his neck, feeling somewhat frightened. This person was so fierce, even more intimidating than the previous stern-faced man!
He didn’t answer, instead turning to run toward Zhao Yuanxi while shouting loudly, “Da Mu, Da Mu, close the door quickly! Bad people are coming!”
Clutching Zhao Yuanxi’s leg, Ziying hid behind her and peeked out with half his head visible.
Zhao Yuanxi, puzzled, followed his gaze and saw a young man in a Dark Robe standing beneath a tree.
The newcomer appeared to be around twenty years old, his posture as erect as a lone pine on a snowy mountain. His black hair was tied high with a dark jade crown, his sword-like eyebrows slanting sharply toward his temples. The shadows cast by his brow bones added a touch of sternness to his phoenix eyes. As the breeze lifted the hem of his robe, he seemed to shut everyone out.
When their eyes met, Zhao Yuanxi felt inexplicably guilty.
Steadying herself, she stepped forward and asked, “Are you here to see me? What is the matter?”
The man’s attire was refined, his accessories exquisite, and the long sword he carried was not something an ordinary person would possess. It was clear at a glance that he was not to be trifled with.
Zhao Yuanxi had a decent ability to assess situations and maintained a very friendly attitude. If one ignored how firmly she shielded Ziying behind her, her demeanor was no different from casual conversation with anyone else.
But to Ying Zheng, this came across as nothing short of provocation.
The Empress Dowager still held a grudge over his order to have her two children killed, hence her extreme vigilance toward him.
Ying Zheng took a few steps forward, his gaze fixed coldly on Ziying. “I merely wished to see the Empress Dowager. What is she so worried about?”
Zhao Yuanxi’s hair stood on end, further convincing her that this visitor meant harm.
Not only did this person know her, but he also had some unresolved issues with the Empress Dowager. That accusatory gleam in his eyes—could he be one of Zhao Ji’s former male favorites?
Alas, from Zhao Ji’s memories, the only recollections involving men were of her chief favorite, Lao Ai, and a few minor favorites who usually amused her.
The chief favorite had been executed by her stepson, and she had paid no mind to the others—whether they lived or died, Zhao Ji hadn’t known.
If they really had that kind of relationship, Zhao Yuanxi couldn’t help but feel remorseful. For her sake, this man had nearly been killed by her stepson, and she didn’t even know his name.
Zhao Yuanxi cleared her throat lightly. “I’m naturally glad you’re willing to visit me, but I’m getting older and my memory isn’t what it used to be. I can’t recall many things clearly anymore. You should forget about the past as well!”
“Forget?” Ying Zheng’s face turned ashen as he gritted his teeth. “You say you’ve forgotten me?”
Zhao Yuanxi tried to placate him. “I know I wronged you before. I’ll have Gao Sheng give you a sum of money. Find a place where no one knows you, buy some good farmland and a house, marry a wife, and live a proper life. That would be better than staying here.”
???
Ying Zheng frowned, his expression turning peculiar. Who did this woman think he was?
He could now confirm that the woman before him was not his mother. It wasn’t about her appearance but the look in her eyes—
His mother had regarded him with resentment. Even though more than a month had passed since the incident, and even if the Empress Dowager had begun to forget it, her gaze should not be so indifferent, as if he were a stranger.
No, to this person, he truly was a stranger.
Ying Zheng reevaluated the person before him—utterly ordinary, devoid of any aggression, like water so clear one could see straight to the bottom.
Would someone like this truly have the nerve to impersonate the Empress Dowager?
“Why aren’t you speaking? Are you dissatisfied?” Zhao Yuanxi grew somewhat flustered under his intense gaze.