Song Zhiyao was about to speak when Lu Yanzhi’s voice rang out again. “Song Zhiyao.”
“These matters… are none of your concern.”
Lu Yanzhi almost laughed at how earnest Song Zhiyao was, fussing over him like this. He fixed his gaze on her. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
Song Zhiyao finally spoke. “I agree to a divorce, but we should at least wait until Shenshen and Weiwei grow up. That means… your beloved will have to endure some hardship.”
“That’s fine.” Lu Yanzhi agreed immediately. “As long as you treat Shenshen and Weiwei well.”
Song Zhiyao let out a relieved breath and smiled brightly. “Lu Yanzhi, thank you.”
Lu Yanzhi ignored her and turned to leave.
He was too irritated by Song Zhiyao’s over-eagerness to notice that, while they spoke, Lu Jianshen had already crept to the door to listen. Song Zhiyao, thinking both children were asleep, had no idea.
Once they both left Zhimo Courtyard, Lu Jianshen’s expression shifted repeatedly, growing heavier by the moment.
After leaving Zhimo Courtyard, Lu Yanzhi was soon summoned by a servant. “Young Master, Father requests your presence at the ancestral hall.”
Lu Yanzhi nodded and headed toward the hall.
When he entered, Old Master Lu was performing incense rites for the Lu family ancestors.
Lu Yanzhi bowed respectfully. “Father.”
Old Master Lu’s voice was icy. “Kneel.”
Lu Yanzhi dropped to his knees.
His father’s cold gaze settled on him. “Lu Yanzhi, do you know what you did wrong?”
Lu Yanzhi had expected this early in the day, but he still replied firmly, “Father, I have done nothing wrong.”
Bang!
Old Master Lu’s voice was sharp with accusation. “As the eldest son, you show no tolerance, dragging your own brother to the authorities… and you dare say you did nothing wrong?”
“You make family matters public, turning the Lu household into a laughingstock in the capital. How can you face our ancestors?”
Lu Yanzhi remained silent.
Old Master Lu continued, “Yan’er is mischievous, but when siblings play together, you and Mrs. Song actually broke into Qingshan Courtyard and laid hands on them.”
“Is this the behavior of an elder brother and elder sister?”
“Lu Yanzhi, do you still not realize your mistakes?”
Lu Yanzhi didn’t explain. He straightened his back in silence, kneeling. He knew he was in the right.
“Lu Yanzhi!” Old Master Lu commanded, “You will apologize to Jinyu tomorrow!”
“Father.” Lu Yanzhi finally spoke, looking up. “Your reprimand protects your son. What I did today… also protects my son.”
What fault did he have?
He had been away from the capital for years and was not fully aware of the details, but upon returning, he had learned what the two children had endured.
Song Zhiyao had been negligent, even bullying Lu Jianshen and Lu Jianwei multiple times for Lu Yan’s sake. Their mother tried to care for them but was too busy to oversee everything. Besides, Lu Jinyu had his father backing him, making it difficult even for their mother to intervene.
“Very well, very well, very well,” Old Master Lu said thrice, his voice icy. “Steward, carry out the family law!”
Song Zhiyao only found out because the injured Lu Yanzhi had been sent straight to Guipu Courtyard by Madam Lu.
She hurried to the door and saw Lu Yanzhi lying on a stretcher.
Madam Lu’s eyes were full of concern. “Why are you so stubborn? A few gentle words wouldn’t have hurt.”
Lu Yanzhi looked pale, his lips lacking color. He closed his eyes wearily. “Mother, thank you for your concern. I am fine.”
He refused; it was just a minor injury.
But his mother, crying, insisted he take the stretcher, so he had no choice but to comply—only to find the stretcher was headed straight for Guipu Courtyard.
“Mother,” Lu Yanzhi said, “It’s late. You should go back and rest.”
But Madam Lu didn’t relax.
Seeing this, Song Zhiyao quickly stepped forward. “Mother, my husband is right. Don’t worry—he has me here.”
Still, Madam Lu hesitated, her gaze lingering on Lu Yanzhi.
Lu Yanzhi took a steady breath and nodded. “Mother, Song Zhiyao is correct. She is taking care of me.”
Only then, under their persuasion, did Madam Lu leave.
No sooner had she gone than Lu Yanzhi got off the bed.
“Lu Yanzhi, where are you going?!” Song Zhiyao called, rushing after him. “Mother personally brought you here—don’t you dare leave. If you leave now, what will she say tomorrow?”
She grabbed his arm. “Lie down, let me see your injury.”
She had promised to care for him in front of Madam Lu and couldn’t break her word.
“Father disciplined you with family law because of the official complaint, right?” she asked.
This was to protect her and the children; she couldn’t let Lu Yanzhi bear it alone.
Lu Yanzhi said nothing, which Song Zhiyao took as tacit agreement.
“You really are a good father,” she said.
“…,” Lu Yanzhi replied.
They were so close that he could smell her scent.
“Let go,” he said coldly.
“No,” Song Zhiyao refused.
He took a deep breath. “If you don’t let go, how can I lie down?”
Reluctantly, she released him.
Lu Yanzhi lay down but refused her help to apply medicine. Song Zhiyao was ushered out; the servant Cang Feng tended to him.
Still, she saw the blood on his clothes and froze.
She hadn’t realized the severity at first, but when she touched the damp fabric, it was soaked with blood—only then did she grasp just how harshly Old Master Lu had struck him.
Lu Yanzhi had indeed been seriously injured.
After applying medicine and changing clothes, he was already standing when Song Zhiyao returned.
In his thin garment, his tall, slender frame was even more pronounced—he looked lean but solid.
Song Zhiyao’s memory of him was sharp. She looked away, embarrassed to see him in nothing but his undergarments. “Lu Yanzhi, thank you.”
“No need,” he replied.
He hadn’t done it for her, and she had no need to thank him on behalf of the children.
As he put on his outer garment, his arm brushed the wound, and he frowned.
“You’re still putting on clothes?” Song Zhiyao asked quickly, then corrected herself. “I mean… you should rest now.”
It was nearly midnight.
Lu Yanzhi glanced at her. “I’ll sleep in the study.”
Since his mother had sent him to Guipu Courtyard, he could avoid troubling Song Zhiyao by staying in the study—a place he knew well.
“Fine, you sleep there,” Song Zhiyao said. “I’ll take this bed.”
She gestured to the small cot. “The heater in the study hasn’t been lit; it’s freezing.”
Lu Yanzhi frowned, remembering clearly that it had been lit that day.
Song Zhiyao’s gaze flickered. “It was only that one day.”
He couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation.
“I’m not afraid of the cold,” he said.
During the campaigns, he could endure an entire day hidden on a snow-covered plain. A little cold was nothing.
“No,” Song Zhiyao objected. “You’re injured.”
Her eyes shifted. “If you don’t listen, I’ll tell Mother.”
Not wanting to disturb Madam Lu at this hour, he gave in.
“But you sleep in the bed,” he said, heading toward the small cot.
Song Zhiyao ran ahead, lying down first. “You’re taller than this cot, and you’re hurt—how could you sleep here?”
“Lu Yanzhi, you’re not a child anymore. Why are you less obedient than Shenshen?”
“…,” he said nothing.
In the end, he lay on the bed while she took the cot.
Exhausted, Song Zhiyao fell asleep quickly.
Lu Yanzhi couldn’t sleep.
The bedding smelled faintly of her—her scent lingering everywhere.
Soon, he heard her even, gentle breathing.
Song Zhiyao had fallen asleep.
He instinctively glanced at her—
She lay on her side, body slightly curled, her expression serene. Perhaps dreaming of something pleasant, the corners of her lips lifted slightly.
She was stunningly beautiful.
Her tranquil appearance held him for a moment, leaving him staring.
After a long pause, he looked away, blew out the candle, and returned to the bed.
The darkness heightened his senses; her scent was everywhere, making it hard for him to focus.
Regret consumed him—why had he agreed to stay in this room, listening to her words?
Lost in thought, it took a long while before Lu Yanzhi finally fell asleep.
Rarely, he dreamed.
He dreamt of their wedding night six years ago. Their marriage had been sudden, arranged for family ties and to preserve the face of the Song family.
Everything had proceeded naturally that night.
Over the years, he occasionally recalled that night, vividly remembering her in his arms: her slim waist, soft body, her sweet scent… blooming before him.
Lu Yanzhi was not a man driven by desire; he had never touched another woman, even when beauties were sent to him at the frontier.
Thus, dreams of that night were rare.
But never had one been this vivid—he felt as if he were truly holding someone.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes to see a serene, exquisite sleeping face.
Song Zhiyao!
She was nestled in his arms, hands gripping his waist, so close that he could feel her breath brushing his face—soft, tickling.
Their hair intertwined. Below the disheveled clothing, he glimpsed the pale, full curves of her body.
He could feel her softness.
Most dangerously, he felt a reaction in his own body—because of her.
Embarrassment surged, followed by anger. He pushed her away sharply. “Song… Zhiyao!”
Startled, she snapped awake, sitting up with lightning speed. “Lu… Lu Yanzhi! Wh-what… what are you doing in my bed?!”