He Zhaoyun had always been a person of boundless energy and strong initiative. Her mindset was remarkably steady, never allowing temporary troubles to disrupt her original plans.
Just like when she encountered someone as troublesome as Feng Qing, she would tirelessly strategize on how to suppress him, but it never interfered with her study schedule.
In entrepreneurship, while one must face challenges from competitors, the most crucial task is to perfect one's own product. Only in spare moments would she engage in a few rounds with rival companies.
She wasn't a machine, after all—there were times when she felt irritable and restless. When she encountered difficult passages in her studies or couldn't grasp certain concepts, she would set aside her books and ponder matters related to the Duke of Li's household. Such moments were perfect for scheming against others.
She would also mentally review the events around her, marking certain individuals as high-priority targets to be dealt with later.
Three days later, the gatekeeper of the He residence received a visiting card clearly stating that the heir of the Duke of Li wished to visit He Zhaoyun at the He family home to express gratitude for her life-saving grace.
The day before, Pei Zeyuan had already visited the Prince of Xiang's residence.
He had brought the old prince a large assortment of entertainment items—if the seasoned pleasure-seekers of the capital saw the gift list, they would surely drool with envy.
Pei Zeyuan knew exactly how to cater to his host's preferences. The Prince of Xiang, advanced in years, had few hobbies beyond keeping birds and fighting crickets.
Now it was He Zhaoyun's turn.
This was rather surprising—Pei Zeyuan turned out to be quite well-mannered, as he had inquired on the card about when would be convenient for He Zhaoyun.
The card was clearly written by his own hand. He Zhaoyun flipped it over and saw the ordinary yet neat and earnest handwriting.
She had previously considered whether to make a breakthrough through Pei Zeyuan, and now he had delivered himself to her doorstep.
He Zhaoyun picked up her brush and replied to the card, setting the date for the seventh day of the seventh month—her day off.
Alas, there was no helping it. Previously, her education had resembled "international school" small-class teaching, but now that she had taken a master, it had become one-on-three or one-on-one instruction.
Ding Hanzhang lacked the energy to teach He Zhaoyun at high frequency every day.
Usually, it was senior disciple Liu Yuan and another instructor, Mr. Jiang, who taught He Zhaoyun in one-on-three or one-on-two sessions according to their respective strengths.
As for Ding Hanzhang, she could ask him questions anytime, and the old master would even give her extra lessons about court histories and hidden affairs.
Since her goal was to become an official, passing the imperial examination was important, but learning how to be an official was even more crucial!
In the seventh month, He Zhaoyun had five days off: the fixed tenth, twentieth, and thirtieth days, plus the Qixi Festival and the Ghost Festival. The thirtieth day of the seventh month also happened to be the birthday of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, but since it coincided with a regular holiday, no additional day off was given.
Thus, He Zhaoyun circled the Qixi Festival date to permit Pei Zeyuan's visit to the He residence.
On the seventh day of the seventh month.
Pei Zeyuan arrived at the He residence with a large entourage of servants pulling two cartloads of gifts, making an even grander display than his visit to the Prince of Xiang's residence.
He even managed to attract the attention of Old Lady He in the inner quarters. The servant women brought the second cart of gifts into the rear courtyard—these were specially intended for the women of the He family.
This was truly a gift of gratitude. As expected of imperial nobility who had lived in extravagant luxury since childhood, his generosity was simply extraordinary.
He Zhaoyun glanced casually at the cart of gifts specifically for her without paying it much mind. She waved her hand and said, "Cuiling, go invite them to have some chilled tea."
Cui Ling gave a slow nod, then turned to attend to the people Pei Zeyuan had brought along, helping them cool off from the heat while also taking the opportunity to check the gift list.
Once the two of them entered the room, the blinding sunlight outside was shut out. It was only then that He Yunzhao noticed Pei Zeyuan was dressed in pitch-black attire, as if he were on his way to assassinate someone. His complexion had somewhat recovered, though.
His waist was tightly cinched by a black-and-gold belt, giving him a slender and sharp silhouette. The wound above his left eyebrow hadn’t fully healed, lending him a somewhat fierce appearance.
The physician had said it would take two months for him to be able to walk, yet on the very same day, he had nearly killed his own father. In less than a month, he had managed to ride a carriage to the He residence.
He Yunzhao felt a surge of respect. What kind of savage physical resilience was this? No wonder he had been able to kill several people and escape even after being drugged. Truly impressive.
The two exchanged a few awkward pleasantries, with He Yunzhao doing most of the talking while Pei Zeyuan only responded with brief affirmations like "Mm," "Yes," or "Right."
He Yunzhao initiated a couple of topics, but Pei Zeyuan merely answered perfunctorily.
After a short while, she cast him a sidelong glance, then picked up her teacup with her right hand and began sipping slowly and deliberately.
Pei Zeyuan wanted to speak, but there was too much he wished to say. His recent experiences had been so complex that he had withdrawn into himself, unwilling to open up.
Seeing He Yunzhao quietly drinking her tea, he imitated her and lifted his own cup. The mottled scars on his hand had not yet healed, and as the rim of the cup touched his lips—
Hmm? He couldn’t resist glancing down. The liquid inside was purplish-red—the cup contained chilled plum juice.
Pei Zeyuan asked curiously, "Is what’s in your cup the same as what’s in mine?"
He Yunzhao nodded, looking even more puzzled than he was. "Yes."
"Then why are you savoring…" Pei Zeyuan trailed off.
A soft laugh escaped He Yunzhao’s throat. "Since the Young Master wasn’t speaking, I had no choice but to savor the plum juice instead."
She had meant it as a casual jest, but Pei Zeyuan gazed at her with a deep, focused intensity and apologized earnestly, "My apologies, that was rude of me."
Waving a hand dismissively, He Yunzhao chuckled, "Don’t take it to heart—it was just an offhand remark."
It was amusing, really. In front of He Yunzhao, Pei Zeyuan actually felt at ease.
If you were to tell a hundred people about his situation, ninety-nine would think him ungrateful. So what if he was injured? He hadn’t actually been killed, had he?
In fact, he had even benefited from the misfortune—his parents had reconciled. His mother was the emperor’s own sister, Princess Ning’an, and his father was the powerful Duke of Li. As their only son, what more could he possibly want with parents like these?
Pei Zeyuan didn’t even know whom he should hate.
Hate Lady Feng? Outsiders didn’t know, but he was aware that Lady Feng was already dead. It was only for the sake of reputation that her death hadn’t been announced—the person sent to the estate was merely a maidservant.
Hate his father? His father had awakened to the truth because of his suffering and had reconciled with his mother.
Hate his mother? But what had she done? She had never harmed him.
It wasn’t like that. It really wasn’t like that…
His memories seemed to be faulty. He distinctly remembered his mother weeping, and how he would comfort her before immediately confronting Lady Feng, only to be scolded, shoved, and even forced to kneel in punishment by his father.
Now they had reconciled, once again a loving couple, deeply devoted to each other.
"Perhaps I shouldn’t dwell on the past anymore."
Pei Zeyuan’s eyes held a multitude of complicated emotions.
He Yunzhao let out a soft sigh, setting down her teacup as a pang of sorrow welled up in her heart.
She didn’t particularly like Pei Zeyuan—in fact, she maintained a somewhat guarded attitude toward him. But human emotions are universal.
As children, they are repeatedly scolded by their parents—called "stupid pigs" for taking an extra piece of tofu. When they grow up and casually bring it up with a smile, their parents deny it ever happened, saying, "You must be misremembering."
A couple argues and fights day and night, tormenting not only each other but also exhausting their child both physically and emotionally. Yet, when they reach a certain age, the conflicts suddenly cease. They reconcile, and elders praise them for having "matured."
Only the child, who endured all the hurt, still remembers those past events.
But they cannot bring it up, cannot voice their grievances, because this is now a "perfect family," and they must not be the one to disrupt it.
Pei Zeyuan hoped He Yunzhao would say something "pleasant"—like, "Your father deserved to die long ago," or "Your mother is out of her mind."
That would have made him feel a little better.
Dressed in black robes, with his hair tied up and a sash around his waist, the young man appeared gaunt and frail. The corners of his mouth drooped, and his eyes seemed veiled in the morning mist of a July day—dull, sorrowful, and burdened with unresolved pain. When he lifted his gaze, it felt as though the slightest touch would shatter him.
Ah…
He Yunzhao, moved by the two carts of gifts, blinked her bright eyes gently. After a moment, she leaned closer to Pei Zeyuan and offered her sincere advice: "Young Master, out of gratitude for these gifts, I’ll give you a suggestion: Don’t let Duke Liguo and the Princess give you a younger sibling."
The top priority should be slipping a sterilizing drug to that couple!
"…What?" Pei Zeyuan was momentarily stunned, utterly baffled by the suggestion.
He Yunzhao shook her head. Silly fool, why wallow in sorrow here? Even if you shatter into pieces, who would care?
"Right now, both of them likely feel guilty toward you and will surely shower you with extra care. But if a second child comes along, then…"
Duke Liguo, Pei Shangxuan, was arrogant, selfish, hypocritical, loved to put on a show, and was full of himself.
As for Princess Ning'an—though He Yunzhao hadn’t interacted much with her—she could already tell: this princess had been raised in the lap of luxury, coddled by the late emperor. Outwardly gentle and kind, she was in fact spoiled, aloof, looked down on those she deemed beneath her, and was entirely self-centered.
Did He Yunzhao truly have no way to punish Duke Liguo and Lady Feng? She did.
Wasn’t her own son, Pei Zeyuan—the very weapon she wielded—the perfect instrument for it?
A normal mother would never rely on her young child for such purposes.
A cold glint flashed in He Yunzhao’s eyes. If a second child were to arrive, regardless of gender, the "reconciled" couple would undoubtedly dote on that child excessively.
Pei Zeyuan, who had witnessed all his parents’ disgrace, even spoken disrespectfully to his mother and attempted patricide, would become nothing but a thorn in their side.
At that point, it wouldn’t be about whether Pei Zeyuan was willing to forgive his parents, but whether they were still willing to accept him.
Pei Zeyuan finally understood. His lips turned as pale as snow, his gaze sharp as an eagle’s, and a mocking smile tugged at the corners of his sharply defined face.
After a long pause, he pressed his right hand firmly against the chair’s backrest and rose to his feet.
He Yunzhao’s eyes flickered—it seemed his injuries hadn’t fully healed yet.
"In that case, I shall take my leave. Thank you, Young Master He, for your guidance."
"No need for thanks. You’re well aware that I have my own grievances with Duke Liguo. I only spoke out of a sense of justice."
Pei Zeyuan clasped his hands together in front of him and bowed deeply. "I thank you not only for saving my life but also for your guidance. Aside from here, I would never hear words spoken so genuinely for my own good."
He Yunzhao’s expression softened with compassion.
The more Pei Zeyuan demonstrated his impeccable manners and sincere gratitude, the more she realized the hardships he had endured.
As they walked into the courtyard, He Zhaoyao pushed aside her aversion for the Duke of Li and regarded Pei Zeyuan with the attitude of a newly acquainted friend.
She raised her hand, pointing to a cluster of flowers in the yard. "Brother Pei, do you recognize what these flowers are?"
Pei Zeyuan turned his head to look. The pale white and pinkish-purple petals drooped like celestial fairies dancing gracefully, but he had no mind to appreciate them.
He replied indifferently, "They are probably hosta flowers."
He Zhaoyao turned to gaze at the flowers. "Yes, they are hostas. Aren't they beautiful? Last year, when I went to Crane Mountain for a picnic, I came across a field full of hosta flowers. I was so delighted that I dug up a cluster with a shovel and brought it back."
"But they don't bloom as vibrantly as the hostas on Crane Mountain."
She sighed softly, her amber eyes tinged with a faint tenderness, and recited, "Look at the flowers on the branches today—they are not the leaves from last year's branches."
The hostas had bloomed again this year, but they were not the same flowers as last year. The life of last year could never return. One must cherish the present.
"Brother Pei, if you remain trapped in your sorrows, how much more will you miss?"
The anger and pain seemed to have detached his soul, allowing him to look down upon the world from a lofty perspective.
But at this moment, his soul returned to his body. His heart tightened, a pang of sorrow struck his brow, and his vision blurred momentarily.
He quickly turned away, leaving only his back to He Zhaoyao. A hoarse voice reached her, "Brother He, it's a pity we did not meet earlier."
He Zhaoyao sighed. Parents are the closest bonds in a person's life.
She could still recall her mother gently stroking her forehead in her childhood, the hot breeze blowing outside the window, and her mother softly patting her back.
Turning to look at the cluster of hosta
In his short life, suffering had already lasted longer than happiness, so those moments of joy appeared so vivid and precise, while the pain gradually blurred…
He thought he had forgotten, but in reality, he remembered every detail clearly.
The first time his mother wept and complained, he went to confront Lady Feng. His father punished him by making him kneel in the ancestral hall. Facing his grandfather’s memorial tablet, he grumbled, "Grandfather, why don’t you do something about Father? He keeps mistreating Mother."
He recalled the first time he was beaten—the searing sting of the whip on his back, followed by a dull ache that spread throughout his body…
He remembered how easily his father brought Lady Feng before him, claiming he had cut out her tongue. In Lady Feng’s terror, his father struck her throat with a single punch…
Pei Zeyuan was puzzled: Did his father truly love Lady Feng? If so, why did he kill her so hastily, as if relieved?
How did Pei Shangxuan view his mother and him?
His thoughts drifted, recalling the bitterness of chrysanthemum tea in autumn… Patricide was a grave sin, punishable by death…
He thought of the little horse in winter, clip-clopping through the snow… Would his mother be sad? For whom would she weep?…
He remembered that cluster of jade hairpin flowers—not particularly beautiful, though he was too embarrassed to say so… Would He Yunzhao be disappointed? Had his attempt to console him failed?…
The tip of the blade paused just before his throat. Pei Zeyuan stopped. Pei Shangxuan could die, but he himself did not wish to.
Perhaps tomorrow he could bring a pot of well-shaped jade hairpin flowers to give to He Yunzhao.
He tucked the knife back into his robe, and the dark figure leaped over the wall and departed.
A quarter of an hour later, the dark figure returned to the room.
Unhurriedly, he took out a stick of incense from his robe, lit it gently, then blew it out. A wisp of fragrant smoke slowly rose.
Holding the incense stick, he aimed it toward Pei Shangxuan’s nose.
No!
He still couldn’t swallow this anger!
His dark eyes, pure and unyielding, fixed intently on the blade. Pei Zeyuan switched to a thinner, sharper knife.
Pulling back the quilt, he started at Pei Shangxuan’s ankles. Thin lines of blood slowly emerged.
Pei Zeyuan focused intently, covering his father’s body with dense, evenly spaced blood lines, each about a finger’s width apart.
When he reached the abdomen, Pei Zeyuan paused, sat down, and rested.
His wounds had not yet healed, and he was truly exhausted—this was delicate, laborious work.
For the first time since he was three, the three of them were sitting together on one bed… At the very least, Pei Zeyuan was happy…
After resting enough, Pei Zeyuan continued. Gripping the blade, he paid attention to the spacing—the depth didn’t matter, since even if he cut deeper, Pei Shangxuan wouldn’t die.
Looking at Pei Shangxuan, now covered in bloodstripe patterns, the pain in his heart seemed to ease slightly. His eyes sparkled with excitement, eagerly anticipating his father’s reaction the next morning.
His gaze inadvertently shifted to Princess Ning’an on the other side. Pei Zeyuan’s eyes dimmed. Though the darkness of the room concealed it, his expression was entirely different from before.
He took out the blade again and, with a few swift strokes, shaved Princess Ning’an’s head completely.
Mother must like the nunnery…
Pei Zeyuan pressed his lips together. He was always like this—prone to guilt toward his mother, as if all her suffering stemmed from him. Whenever she lamented what his father had done, he felt a sense of culpability.
It was the same now. Whatever he did to his mother, he felt compelled to be even harsher toward his father.
…
The next day.
"Ah!"
"Ah!"
"Ah!"
A piercing scream echoed from the Duke of Li's residence. Princess Ning'an, terrified, huddled deep within her bed, her head shaved unevenly into a patchy baldness. She stared in horror at Pei Shangxuan, whose entire body was drenched in blood.
Pei Shangxuan had awoken with this half-shaved head, the stinging pain all over his body making him intensely uncomfortable.
"Ning'an!" He rose to check on the princess.
But as the blood-soaked figure lunged toward her, Princess Ning'an's eyes rolled back, and she fainted.
With his mismatched haircut, Pei Shangxuan rushed out of the room. "Where is everyone? Where have they all gone? There was an assassin!"
His rough, panting breaths betrayed his fury, which threatened to consume him entirely. "Summon the imperial physician!"
Pei Zeyuan calmly prepared to face Pei Shangxuan's wrath.
However…
Pei Shangxuan’s first suspicion was whether the Feng family had some hidden scheme still in play!
Back when Lady Feng had approached him, she claimed to know the inside story of the Two Princes Case—that the Feng family had taken the fall for the Pei family—and she had evidence in her possession.
During the Two Princes Case, the late emperor had executed countless people, and even Pei Shangxuan’s father had been forced to lay low. As the heir to the Pei family, Pei Shangxuan knew all too well that his family was far from innocent in the matter.
Thus, after marrying, he had treated Princess Ning'an with excessive kindness out of guilt. He loved her wholeheartedly, even running to the west side of the city to buy her favorite chestnut cakes just because she mentioned them.
Lady Feng’s appearance had thrown him into a state of agitation. Fortunately, Ning'an was naive.
A few words about saving her life were enough to make her believe him. After all, she was still a princess—Lady Feng could never truly harm her.
The only problem was the damage to his reputation.
After the incident with Feng Qing, Lady Feng gradually lost control. She held no affection for Pei Shangxuan—the Pei family had made the Fengs their scapegoat.
How could she not resent him when he played the devoted husband yet made her his concubine?
It was then that Pei Shangxuan noticed something odd: despite her loss of control, Lady Feng had not used the evidence to threaten him.
He proceeded to turn the Feng family’s ancestral home upside down in search of it. Feng Qing, who had been sentenced to exile, was secretly captured and tortured. Under severe interrogation, Feng Qing confessed—the Feng family had no evidence at all!
With that reassurance, Pei Shangxuan disposed of both Feng siblings.
Now, standing alone in the deserted courtyard, the blood-soaked Pei Shangxuan shivered violently as the wind blew over him. Could the Feng family still have a hidden card to play?
The Duke of Li’s residence truly lived up to its reputation as the capital’s gossip hub this year. Earlier, they had pressured He Yunzhao into writing, "I shall leave my integrity in this world…" In response, the great scholar Liao gathered his followers to furiously denounce the Duke’s estate—the two walls outside were still covered in their "masterpiece" calligraphy.
A few months later, the Duke of Li and Princess Ning'an staged another spectacle: "bearing a rod for punishment" and "reuniting like a broken mirror restored."
Now, a fresh topic had emerged.
"Have you heard? The Duke’s residence is haunted! They say both the princess and the Duke had their heads shaved by ghosts."
"And the Duke was marked by the ghost—covered from head to toe in fine red lines, even on his face!"
"Really? But the sage warns us not to speak of ghosts and supernatural forces!"
"It’s true! I swear on my life!"
One never understands the pain until the whip strikes one’s own back. Princess Ning'an abandoned her plans to retreat to a nunnery for quiet cultivation and rushed back to the palace for refuge.
This time, it was her hair being shaved off—who knew what might happen next?
The empress found her sister-in-law irritating but couldn’t bring herself to refuse her outright. However, after a few days of hosting Princess Ning'an, the empress had had enough.
She spoke softly and tactfully to the emperor, "Your Majesty, Ning'an has taken refuge in the palace for now, but Zeyuan remains at the Duke of Liguo's residence. He is still just a child—isn't it rather inappropriate?"
Li Sui sighed softly and summoned Princess Ning'an.
He said, "Ning'an, you and your husband have already wronged Zeyuan greatly, and now you… Ah!"
"I truly don’t know what to say to you."
Princess Ning'an had a brocade cloth wrapped around her head, concealing her shaved scalp. With tear-filled eyes, she pleaded, "Royal Brother, I've never asked you for anything since I married. It's only because I'm truly frightened that I've returned to the palace for a few days. Does my sister-in-law dislike my staying?"
Li Sui had some resistance to his sister's tears. He remained silent for a moment.
As for Ning'an's unfilial behavior as a parent, he, as her elder brother, couldn't exactly hold it against her, but at the very least, he didn't have to sink to her level.
He sighed softly. "I, as his uncle, have been neglecting my duty for too long, all because I trusted you too much. Now it seems it would have been better if I had taken Ze Yuan into the palace to raise him from the start."
"You wept and wailed, saying you couldn't bear to be apart from your son, and I believed you. But look what you've done—such a fine child, and you've raised him into what?"
Li Sui knew in his heart that the hauntings at the Duke of Li's residence were Pei Ze Yuan's doing, but the child had suffered so much already—let him vent his anger.
Never mind Pei Ze Yuan; even Li Sui, as the emperor, now felt a chill in his heart when he looked at his own sister and her husband.
He waved his hand dismissively. "Return to the Pei family tomorrow."
Ning'an wanted to say more but hesitated, then fell silent.
That was just like her—endlessly willful with those who indulged her, but the moment she sensed others were no longer accommodating, she would rein herself in.
She was nothing more than a thoroughly selfish person.
Not only little suns are nurtured by love—cuckoos are, too.
…
He Yunzhao received a pot of flowers—a large, beautiful pot of hostas.
The servants carried the pot into the courtyard, and the lush hostas immediately overshadowed her own flowers.
She looked at the hostas Pei Ze Yuan had sent, then turned to glance at her own.
He Yunzhao: Staring!
"Take it to the backyard garden! I don't want it appearing in my courtyard."
"Yes, Third Master."
Gnashing her teeth, she crouched down and shoveled two handfuls of soil around her own hostas. "What do they know? It's these sparse flowers that carry the most elegance."
She glanced again and again—her own plants were truly disappointing!
In the backyard, Mother He noticed the flowers and asked, "Where did these come from?"
The servant quickly replied, "They were a gift from Third Master's friend. Third Master ordered them moved to the garden."
Mother He praised, "So beautiful! Far lovelier than Xiao Zhao's fussy flowers and plants. It's a wonder anything she tends manages to survive."
He Yunzhao, however, had no idea her mother was actually quite disdainful of her horticultural efforts. Her heart was set on hosting a banquet to showcase her treasures.
She had already gained some renown in the capital and felt it was time to invite her peers, signaling that the He family's younger generation was re-entering social circles.