Marquis Wu’an Manor.
“Madam, Madam, that little girl is begging outside our manor’s gates again!” Cuixiang had just overheard two old women at the second gate discussing the matter, and she rushed back to the main courtyard to report to her mistress.
Song Shuqing, the Marchioness of Wu’an, was dressed in a pale green gown and seated before a table, clicking away on an abacus.
Hearing the flustered commotion, Song Shuqing looked up at her head maid, whose oval face was brimful of curiosity.
“Look at that temper of yours. When will you ever learn to be more composed?” Song Shuqing shook her head helplessly. This maid of hers simply loved to pry into everything, though that trait did help her considerably in managing the affairs of the marquisate.
“Madam!” Cuixiang stamped her foot, squeezing the handkerchief in her hand and pouting playfully.
“You said that little girl is here again? Which day is this?” Song Shuqing paused her calculations and rubbed the bridge of her nose, inquiring gently.
“It’s the fifth day! You instructed Old Woman Liu at the second gate to give her a bowl of rice every day, and now she’s been fed so well she doesn’t want to leave. She comes every single day.” Cuixiang did not look down on the little beggar; she was simply curious.
A three-year-old girl with no adults and no companions had managed to come beg before the marquis’s gates every day without being snatched or tricked away by human traffickers.
By all logic, their Marquis Wu’an Manor was a noble, high-ranking household, a place ordinary beggars would never dare approach. Yet, this little girl showed up day after day.
“Come, take me to see.” As the lady of the household, and with it being the end of the month, Song Shuqing had been so busy these past few days that she had not stepped foot outside.
Accompanied by Cuixiang, Song Shuqing walked out the main entrance and saw a filthy child sitting by the roadside below the front stone steps.
It was indeed a child of around three years old.
She appeared somewhat listless, with a broken bowl placed before her.
Perched upon her shoulder was a small, pitch-black bird, which was using its pointed beak to preen her disheveled hair.
Song Shuqing approached the child with light, graceful steps.
The little face was too dirty to make out its features, and the child was painfully thin.
“Little girl, why are you all alone?” Song Shuqing crouched down, looking at the child before her as a surge of sympathy welled in her heart.
How could such a tiny child be left without a mother or father to beg on the streets? How had she even survived to this age?
The child did not speak, only staring blankly at Song Shuqing.
In truth, they were sizing each other up.
“How about I buy you into the manor as a maidservant?” Song Shuqing felt pity. After all, the marquisate did not lack the food to feed a three-year-old child; she could take it as a daily good deed to accumulate blessings for her eldest and second sons.
[Whoa, is this my mother? So beautiful! I’ve finally waited until you came out. Mother, I’m your biological child! I was swapped right at birth. The one you’re raising every day is Second Aunt’s son. When he grows up, he’s going to send you to a Buddhist temple to become a nun!]
An ethereal child’s voice sounded from the little girl before her, echoing straight into her mind—yet the little girl had not opened her mouth at all.
Song Shuqing’s body shuddered violently, and she nearly fell back onto the ground.
She could actually hear this little girl’s inner thoughts, and the information stunned her into utter speechlessness.
This was her child?
How was that possible?
Even as Feng Tianxing nodded repeatedly, Song Shuqing seemed not to notice, merely staring blankly at the child before her eyes.
“Madam? Madam?” Cuixiang called out twice without receiving any response. “Madam, what’s wrong?”
Cuixiang gave her a gentle nudge.
Pulled back to her senses, Song Shuqing’s eyes finally regained their focus, and she stared fixedly at Feng Tianxing once more.
Those round, glistening eyes were gazing up at her with longing.
“Are you willing to come into the manor with me?” Song Shuqing managed to gain control of herself with great effort before asking. But she did not say she was buying her into the manor—she said to come with her.
Feng Tianxing nodded happily once again, her eyes curving into smiling crescents.
[I can finally enter the manor! My five days of playing a beggar weren’t in vain.]
Another child’s voice sounded in her mind. Song Shuqing felt as though struck by lightning.
What on earth was going on?
The third son she pampered and doted on was not her child, but the one before her was?
She thought back to the second branch’s behavior over the past three years.
One never knew until one thought about it, and the realization was chilling.
The Old Madam favored the third son the most. The eldest son was one thing, but ever since the second son was born, she had never once held him.
Her second brother-in-law’s wife would also frequently carry the third son to her own courtyard, not sending him back for half a day, and she often sewed clothes for him—even more than she, his supposed biological mother, ever did.
Whenever her second brother-in-law saw the third son, he would hold him and play with him for ages; even her husband, the boy’s supposed father, did not possess such patience.
And when she recalled the third son’s appearance, he truly bore not the slightest resemblance to either her or her husband.
She dared not dwell on it any further.
She had always believed that the first and second branches enjoyed an exceptionally harmonious relationship.
Had it all been an illusion?
Song Shuqing took the initiative to hold Feng Tianxing’s hand, paying no heed to how filthy the little hand was, and led her into the manor in a daze.
Cuixiang watched in utter astonishment.
Madam was truly so kind-hearted!
Yet such a good mistress had suffered such a bitter fate: her eldest young master had broken his legs, and her second young master was chronically ill and sickly, clearly not destined for a long life.
Leading Feng Tianxing, Song Shuqing walked straight into her own residence, the Sunset Glow Courtyard.
“Cuixiang, have the kitchen heat some water.” Song Shuqing’s voice carried a slight tremor.
She had not yet recovered from the shocking revelation.
The hot water was prepared and brought over in no time.
Cuixiang summoned Cuiping, intending to bathe the little beggar together.
“Go fetch a set of Yuanji’s clothes. I will bathe her myself,” Song Shuqing commanded faintly, suppressing the shock in her heart.
“Madam, please let this servant do it.” How could Cuixiang let her mistress do such labor? Would such a filthy child not soil Madam’s hands?
“I will do it myself.” Song Shuqing’s voice suddenly rose, startling both senior maidservants.
What had gotten into Madam?
Helpless, the two had no choice but to obediently withdraw from the washroom. One went to fetch the clothes, while the other went to the kitchen to tell the servants to boil another pot of water.
Since the child was small, bathing her in a large wooden tub was more than enough.
It was the fifth month of the year, neither too cold nor too hot.
Feng Tianxing’s clothes were caked in mud, rendering the original color unrecognizable, though one could tell they were made of coarse cloth with many patches.
Just how much suffering had she endured?
Song Shuqing did not shy away from the grime, loosening the ties little by little.
As she bathed the girl, she asked gently, “Little girl, what is your name?”
Feng Tianxing did not speak. She only shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks in a truly pitiful display.
“You cannot speak?” Song Shuqing was startled. She was already three years old; how could she still be unable to speak?
Feng Tianxing nodded and pointed a finger at her throat, signaling that there was something wrong with it.
[Mother, I was poisoned and muted since I was an infant.]
What?
The child had actually endured such a monstrous crime?
The washcloth in Song Shuqing’s hand dropped straight into the water, and she froze in shock.
Only after quite some time did she pick the cloth back up.
“Child, don’t cry. Don’t cry. I’ll find a physician to treat you. You will definitely be healed!” Song Shuqing coaxed her gently, her own eyes reddening.
[Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll recover in the future. If not for this body being too weak and in need of proper nourishing, I would only need a single elixir pill to cure it.]
A person over two hundred years old having to act like a three-year-old child was truly exhausting, but she had to keep up the act.
Hearing these words, Song Shuqing felt slightly reassured.
“How did you make your way to the front of the marquis’s manor?” Song Shuqing could hardly believe that a three-year-old child could reach the capital alone and find her way to the manor gates.
Feng Tianxing pointed toward the sky, then toward the black bird perched on the window lattice.
[Mother, Xiaohei brought me back. It’s a divine bird from the heavens, you know!]
Another ethereal voice sounded, carrying a soft, tender tone.
“Did an immortal from the heavens bring you here?” Song Shuqing suppressed her shock and spoke deliberately, setting up an excuse to prepare for how they would explain this to others later.
Song Shuqing was, after all, the daughter of an Imperial Censor, well-educated and sharp-witted. In this brief span of time, she had figured everything out.
Feng Tianxing nodded vigorously.
[Mother is so clever!]
After changing the water twice, the little girl was finally washed clean and dressed in a set of young boy’s clothes.
Song Shuqing scrutinized the little girl before her.
The more she looked, the more terrified she became!