“Third Young Master, the Second Madam has been admitted to the hospital. Young Master Mo Chen ordered his servants to uproot all the flowers around their garden,” the servant reported.
Li Moyi was playing in his courtyard with little Wanwan, pushing a toy cart full of sand, dumping it out, and laughing gleefully.
He sat in a rocking chair, legs crossed, gently tapping his toes to sway back and forth, relaxed and at ease.
“Uproot them and replant. There are plenty of flowers in the back garden anyway. Take the bigger buds and transplant them,” he instructed.
“Yes, Third Young Master.”
The servant left. Li Moyi stood and noticed Wanwan’s hands and face covered in dirt, frowning in mild annoyance.
“Time for lunch. Come wash up.”
Though not as gentle as Li Mocheng, Li Moyi’s fastidiousness about cleanliness meant that whenever Wanwan was in public with him, her clothes, hands, and face were spotless, radiating a sweet, childlike fragrance.
Hearing his call, Wanwan ran over with her tiny legs.
Li Moyi turned on the faucet, letting her wash her own hands while he used a wet towel to clean her face and neck.
Then he had her sit on a small stool, untangled her hair with a horn comb, and tied it neatly into a little ponytail, making her lively little face even more spirited.
“All done. Let’s go see Grandma.”
Li Moyi was not one for patience—he held Wanwan’s hand and strode ahead with long legs.
Wanwan’s little legs grew tired quickly, her face flushed.
“Third Brother, carry me.”
Li Moyi stopped and glanced at the panting little girl, pursing his lips.
“Look at those tiny legs of yours—you can’t walk fast at all.”
Though he complained, he still lifted her into his arms. Wanwan crossed her arms, a cheeky smile on her face.
“I eat so much every day, I’ll grow taller soon, hmph!”
Li Moyi snorted disdainfully. They arrived at Old Madam Li’s courtyard, where the flowers damaged by wild birds had now recovered and were in full bloom, filling the air with fragrance.
Old Madam Li’s mood improved, and since Li Moyi had sent Aunt Lü to the hospital to teach her a lesson, she didn’t bother telling the master to worry about it.
Aunt Lü, guilty and wary, dared not complain, forced to swallow her humiliation silently.
“Oh, my little treasure, this little ponytail looks like a little cannonball. Grandma will redo it for you.”
Old Madam Li sat Wanwan on her lap, rebraided her hair into two ponytails, and had the servant fetch matching hair ornaments.
She then turned to Li Moyi seriously:
“Since you’re taking care of Wanwan, learn to do it properly. Stop fooling me!”
Li Moyi quietly looked at Wanwan. Wanwan returned his gaze, and after a moment of staring, she offered him a piece of cake with a cheerful smile.
“Third Brother, eat cake.”
The little girl’s attempt to coax him was obvious. Li Moyi accepted it, eating slowly to give her face.
After the meal, Li Moyi took Wanwan to Zhang Nan’s courtyard to retrieve her things. On the way, a middle-aged man with gentle features blocked their path.
“Ah Ying,” he greeted.
Li Moyi stopped, showing respect: “Third Uncle.”
“I was about to look for you. Do you have a moment to talk?”
Li Lixin was born to the third concubine. His mother died when he was young, and he spent several years under the care of the second wife, Lü Jiefang.
Later, Old Madam Li noticed Lü Jiefang’s harsh treatment of him and decided to take him under her own care.
Over the years, Li Lixin, shaped by his upbringing, only married one wife and remained childless.
Today, he came out of gratitude for his elder caregivers, hoping to mediate and reconcile.
“I’ll get Wanwan’s things. Third Uncle, wait in the courtyard first.” Li Moyi did not dislike him and wanted to show courtesy.
Li Lixin nodded and went toward Li Moyi’s courtyard.
Li Moyi returned with Wanwan’s items, sent her to her room to change into her night clothes, and brought a pot of tea to the courtyard, formally offering it to Li Lixin.
Li Lixin observed Li Moyi’s youthful face, calm demeanor, and the quiet confidence in his gestures. It reminded him of the recognition Old Master had given him at five years old: that this child had the same vigor and character as he did, unmatched in the family.
That potential had made him a target for those with ulterior motives at a young age.
Li Lixin sighed inwardly—thirteen was an age of vitality, yet Li Moyi had already developed an iron heart in the midst of family strife.
“Ah Ying, although your Second Madam was wrong, she is family. One lesson is enough. If you push too far, it’ll be impossible to resolve.”
Li Lixin spoke frankly, showing no deference due to Li Moyi’s age, trying to reason with sincerity.
Li Moyi kept his gaze downward, slowly grinding the tea leaves, seemingly uninterested in Lixin’s words.
Li Lixin continued: “Her family is gone. She has no place but the Li household. When I visited her in the hospital, she looked unwell. Your second uncle and brothers were present, and no one blamed anyone. If you let her return, it should be settled, and she will learn to restrain herself.”
“Restrain herself, but she won’t truly change.” Li Moyi’s lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
His tone was calm, almost analytical, as if untangling a mess to form a clear answer.
“She’s old now. How many years does she have left? This household will rely on you young ones in the future. The past will fade, and this family’s future will be in your hands.”
Li Lixin’s words carried double meaning:
First, that Lü Jiefang likely had a serious illness.
Second, that while alive, she could be controlled—and her descendants would not be a match for him, let alone after her death.
“Your logic is not wrong.” Li Moyi set down the cup and poured more tea into Lixin’s cup.
Li Lixin expected him to agree to stop.
But the boy’s eyes held a glimmer of subtle mischief. He placed the teapot down with a low, heavy thud.
“Before all the fruits on a tree ripen, a few rotten ones will spoil first. Third Uncle, if you can’t bear to discard even one, aren’t you afraid the pus from the rotten fruit will soil your hands?”