Zhao Qingning had indeed considered exposing Zhao Junyuan’s true nature and making him divorce Yongjia.
But over the years, he had played the role of a devoted father too well. Everyone knew Minister Zhao doted on his daughter to the extreme, granting her every wish.
Even her mother had been deceived by him.
To expose him, she needed evidence—the kind that proved heinous crimes. Currently, he hadn’t falsely accused Yongjia of treason nor committed any major offense. This marriage was even decreed by the late emperor. A divorce without cause would leave Yongjia vulnerable to harsh criticism from the civil officials.
Thinking of this, she sighed.
Forget it. Better to focus on dealing with Chunlan first.
The night deepened.
In the academy’s small room, a lone candle flickered unsteadily.
Lu Jinghan stared at the book on the table, his brow furrowed tightly.
After a long while, he closed the book.
If before he had thought Zhao Qingning was toying with him like a dog, now he couldn’t understand her.
What kind of master would save a servant and even give him books?
But what puzzled him more was that he possessed nothing of value. What could Zhao Qingning possibly gain from this?
People always acted to obtain something. Even idlers at least gained pleasure.
But her? It seemed she had gained nothing but injuries.
Having suffered bullying in the Cold Palace, he had slowly learned to read people. The former Zhao Qingning had been easy to understand, but now he found her incomprehensible.
Moonlight streamed through the window as he stood and went outside, sitting by the doorway.
Gazing at the crescent moon in the distant sky, Lu Jinghan fell into a daze.
In the palace, at this hour, he would still be beaten by those bullies among the eunuchs—those who vented their daytime frustrations from their masters on him.
Here at the academy, he had endless chores, often washing dishes and clothes late into the night.
He had never before enjoyed such peace while looking at the moon.
This rare tranquility was brought to him by Zhao Qingning.
How laughable. How absurd.
Lu Jinghan didn’t know how long he sat by the door until the moon dipped westward. He finally rose and went inside, intending to rest briefly.
But as soon as he lay down, a cold sensation brushed against him, followed by something moving. Lu Jinghan’s eyelids twitched. He sprang up instantly, drew the knife from beneath his pillow, and flung the quilt aside.
“Hiss…”
A long snake slithered out from the bedding, confronting him. Its body was emerald green, mouth gaping to reveal sharp fangs, eyes gleaming with menace. It raised its head slightly, swaying slowly toward Lu Jinghan.
Lu Jinghan’s gaze turned icy. He had encountered snakes in the Cold Palace.
There was indeed a bamboo grove in the backyard, but it was far from his room.
This snake had been deliberately placed in his quilt—someone wanted him dead.
Zhao Qingning? Not her. If she wanted him dead, she wouldn’t go to such trouble.
The eunuch in charge? He wouldn’t dare offend Zhao Qingning.
So bold and reckless, unafraid of provoking their masters—it could only be one person.
The eunuch who had been crippled by the dog.
Lu Jinghan sneered. He had seen eunuchs handling snakes in the palace. As the snake lunged toward him again, he acted without hesitation—swift, precise, and ruthless—grabbing it by the neck and plunging his dagger down mercilessly.
The snake writhed in his grip, but he tore it apart with the blade, just like he had with the vicious dog.
Soon, it stopped struggling, utterly dead.
Snake blood stained the quilt, releasing a metallic scent.
Lu Jinghan stared at the quilt for a long time.
Zhao Qingning had ordered this prepared for him. He had touched it before—it felt soft and carried a faint fragrance.
Now it was completely ruined.
A flash of ferocity crossed his eyes.
The next morning, as soon as he stepped out, he ran into that eunuch. Though his wounds had slightly improved over the past few days, he was left with a broken arm, a crippled leg, and even one blind eye.
Seeing him completely unharmed, disappointment flickered in the eunuch’s eyes.
This Little Wild Seed actually didn’t die.
His misfortune must be related to this little wretch—otherwise, why would the dog suddenly go mad and attack only him?
Now disabled and soon to be expelled from the academy with no means of survival, he no longer cared about consequences. If he were to die, he’d drag someone down with him.
Lu Jinghan glanced at him expressionlessly.
So it was him.
He turned and walked in another direction.
“You say you want to go out?”
The steward eunuch frowned at the person before him.
Lu Jinghan bowed slightly. “Yes. Miss Zhao sent some books a few days ago, but I accidentally damaged one. I thought I’d go buy a replacement to avoid displeasing her.”
The steward eunuch pondered for a moment.
Letting him out shouldn’t be an issue—this wasn’t the palace, after all, and servants often went to the market for errands.
Besides, if he refused, what if this boy complained to Miss Zhao?
Considering this, he smiled. “Very well, you may go.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Lu Jinghan smiled faintly and turned to leave, but the eunuch called him back. He paused. “Is there anything else, sir?”
The steward eunuch placed some loose silver in his hand. “While you’re out, buy me some roasted peanuts. Return early.”
Truthfully, he didn’t crave peanuts, but he could tell the boy had no money. Now that Lu Jinghan had connected with Miss Zhao’s influential family, the eunuch saw no harm in currying favor—he might need him someday.
Lu Jinghan bowed. “Thank you, sir.”
He took the silver and left, tucking away the few copper coins he had secretly saved.
Not far from the academy lay a bustling market, crowded and vibrant.
Lu Jinghan stood at the crossroads. After years confined in the palace, this was his first time witnessing such prosperity.
Amid the crowd, his body trembled slightly. Years of beatings had made him averse to being touched, so he moved cautiously.
At a street corner stood a medical clinic.
Lu Jinghan spoke softly, “There have been many snakes around my home lately, but they’re scattered and hard to catch. Is there anything that can lure them to one spot?”
The old physician stroked his beard and prepared a packet of powder. “This is what ordinary households use to attract snakes. Take care, young master.”
He paid for it, bought the peanuts, and returned to the academy.
Another night fell.
Lu Jinghan flipped through a book in his small room, but his mind was elsewhere.
As the moon rose above the willow trees, a piercing scream shattered the silence.
Soon, rustling sounds filled the air as people hurried about outside.
Lu Jinghan’s hand stilled. He stood and went out.
“What’s all this screaming in the middle of the night? Disturbing my peace,” the steward eunuch grumbled as he emerged, irritation in his voice.
A young eunuch stammered, “Sir… look over there…”
Following his pointed finger, the steward eunuch noticed a dark mass lying motionless on the ground near a small hut. Drawing closer, he recoiled in shock.
It was the eunuch who had been mauled by the dog. Now, dozens of snakes coiled around his body, their fangs glinting coldly in the moonlight as they relentlessly bit into him with harsh hisses. Not a patch of his skin remained intact; blood soaked the ground. Yet, he wasn’t dead—still feebly struggling.
The snake’s scales tightened, constricting him as they gradually devoured his flesh, even plucking out his eyeballs.
The eunuch supervisor watched with his scalp crawling: “Quick, quick! Bring torches and burn them all!”
A crippled eunuch nearing death wasn’t worth concern anyway. Dealing with the snakes promptly was more important.
Otherwise, if any masters were injured tomorrow, his offense would be grave.
Soon, several torches ignited coarse cloth and were thrown onto the eunuch simultaneously.
The snakes were scorched into scattered pieces, while those that managed to escape were beaten to death by guards stationed nearby.
Flames surged everywhere.
Lu Jinghan stood aside, watching the struggling figure in the fire gradually turn into a charred corpse. The corners of his lips curled slightly, his heart indifferent, yet his eyes held profound compassion—as if mourning the deceased. Soundlessly, his lips formed the words:
“Rest in peace.”