Gu Zhaoyan explained, “This is a loss-of-speech worm, a type of Gu parasite that can rob a person of their ability to speak. The victim will first run a high fever, and once the fever breaks, they become completely unable to talk. It looks precisely as though the high fever merely burned out their vocal cords, so it arouses no suspicion. Unless someone is a Gu physician well-versed in these parasites, they would never detect it.”
As he spoke, his slender fingertips brushed through the air above the slender black worm, and a burst of flame ignited the little creature instantly. A plume of black smoke accompanied by a piercing, foul stench caused everyone to knit their brows in disgust. Seeing the black worm reduced to ashes along with the silver needle he had used, Gu Zhaoyan felt no reluctance. While the needle hadn’t been poisoned, it had still pierced such an ugly black worm, so he had no desire to keep it.
Prince Jing lowered his head, his expectant gaze fixed upon Jinyu. “Jin’er, call me Father.”
Jinyu pressed his lips tightly together, hesitatingly opening his mouth as he looked at the hope shining in his father’s eyes. He had not spoken a single word for more than two years; now that his throat no longer hurt, he simply didn’t know how to begin. Yet seeing the anticipation in his father’s eyes, he forced himself to push out the syllables: “Fa… Fa… ther…” The voice came out dry and hoarse, completely lacking the crisp, milky clarity of a young child’s speech.
Gu Zhaoyan smiled. “Do not rush, take your time.” He turned to Prince Jing. “Although his voice is still unfamiliar right now, this is a very positive sign. Having not spoken for over two years, we cannot rush things. We must guide him patiently.”
Prince Jing pulled Jinyu closer into his embrace and nodded. “Mn, I understand, I will not rush him. The Master mentioned just now that my child is also afflicted with poison. When can that be cured?”
“Treating the poison is not particularly difficult,” Gu Zhaoyan said slowly. “With a combination of acupuncture and medicinal soups to nourish the body, half a month or so will be sufficient.”
Hearing this, Prince Jing extended an invitation: “In that case, might the Master be willing to remain in the estate until my son has completely recovered? I have no intention of restricting the Master’s freedom; you need only treat my child, and you are free to come and go as you please for whatever business you have during the day.”
He knew that eminent masters and experts like Gu Zhaoyan could not afford to be offended, let alone when this man was his own son’s savior. Naturally, he would only accord him the utmost respect.
Gu Zhaoyan did not refuse. Staying within the prince’s estate would not interfere with his personal errands outside either, so he readily agreed. Prince Jing immediately instructed his staff to prepare a guest courtyard, complete with a private back door to make coming and going convenient.
Mindful that Gu Zhaoyan was a cultivator of the Buddhist path, though he had not formally shaved his head, Prince Jing still had a table of vegetarian dishes prepared to host him. Gu Zhaoyan looked over the table of delicacies, unconcerned by the lack of meat; with his master having just departed, he was currently observing a vegetarian fast. Even in the future, maintaining appearances meant he could never openly indulge in meat, lest he ruin the carefully cultivated image of an eminent monk. This was simply part of the price he had to pay for borrowing the identity of a Buddhist lay disciple.
Late into the night, Gu Zhaoyan pushed open his door and stepped outside. Bailang followed closely behind him, asking, “Are you going to look for her directly like this?”
“Mn.” Gu Zhaoyan raised his head to gaze at the increasingly full moon, speaking softly, “When I was born, barely a month had passed before I was sent out of the estate. The household servants were ruthless; under such harsh weather, they abandoned me directly in the snow. Had my master not rescued me and taken me back, I likely would have lost my life long ago.”
He sighed and continued, “Seventeen years have passed now, and I wonder how my mother has been?” He suspected her days had hardly been comfortable, and he only prayed she was still well.
Bailang remarked, “Separated from flesh and blood, how could she be well?” Though it was merely an animal and did not fully understand human emotional bonds, it had once watched its own parents, brothers, and sisters gradually age and die, and it remembered feeling profound sorrow and loneliness back then.
“You stay here.” Gu Zhaoyan did not let Bailang accompany him, departing the prince’s estate entirely alone.
Upon learning of this, Prince Jing raised no objections, simply waving a hand to dismiss the steward with instructions: “There is no need to report such matters in the future. The Master is a most distinguished guest of this estate and must never be slighted.”
“Understood.” The steward grasped Prince Jing’s intent instantly, mentally elevating Gu Zhaoyan’s status directly beneath Prince Jing and his son.
Gu Zhaoyan walked at a leisurely pace down the quiet, deserted street. The curfew had long since fallen, leaving the thoroughfare completely empty save for the faint sound of his own footsteps. The Prince Jing estate stood quite close to the imperial palace, and the Rongguo Estate was not far away either, separated merely by a single street.
Gu Zhaoyan stood at a distance, gazing silently at the gleaming red-gold plaque mounted above the gates of the Rongguo Estate for a long moment before turning away.
Inside the Rongguo Estate:
“Concubine, please rest for a while. It has already been a full hour; even if you were made of iron, your body couldn’t possibly endure this.” Seeing Concubine Zhou still kneeling before the statue of the Bodhisattva chanting scriptures, Luoyue sighed inwardly, stepping forward to help her to her feet. “You must take care of yourself first. Only by preserving your health can you hope to be here when young master returns.”
Concubine Zhou opened her eyes, her gaze resting on the compassionate, smiling visage of the Bodhisattva as her eyes abruptly reddened. She shook her head, her voice choking with tears, “He won’t return. An’er will likely never come back. It has been seventeen years. Over all these years, I have tried to sound out the Master on multiple occasions, but he has never once relented to let me go see An’er, telling me only not to dwell on it. I do not even know to which temple the master sent An’er; perhaps…” Perhaps her An’er was long gone. He was her An’er, a piece of flesh torn straight from her own body, how could she possibly not dwell on it?
At that thought, Concubine Zhou broke down in sobs. Luoyue felt a pang in her heart as well, tears slipping down her cheeks. “It cannot be. Young master is, after all, the Master’s own flesh and blood; how could the Master be so cruel?”
“Flesh and blood?” Concubine Zhou shook her head amidst her flowing tears, a bitter, mocking curve touching her lips. If the Master truly regarded An’er as his own flesh and blood, how could he have gone without sending a single person to check on him in all these years? It was abundantly clear that he had simply discarded her An’er away at a whim!
She dropped back to her knees once more, pressing her palms together in devout prayer as she gazed faithfully at the Bodhisattva. “I beg the Bodhisattva to bless my son with safety and peace. This humble devotee is willing to shorten her own lifespan by ten years and observe a vegetarian diet for the rest of her days. I beg the Bodhisattva to keep my son safe. Even if he can never return, it matters not, so long as he is safe. I beseech the Bodhisattva to protect…”
Hearing the muffled sobs echoing from behind the closed doors, coupled with Concubine Zhou’s heartfelt prayers filled with maternal love, Gu Zhaoyan felt the barrier of more than a decade’s worth of emotional distance dissolve entirely in that single instant. Never before had anyone thought of him with such devotion. In his past life, he was an orphan who never had the chance to experience a mother’s love. In this life, he was sent away shortly after birth, forfeiting any such opportunity entirely. He had assumed that after more than ten years, she would have long since forgotten about the son she sent away so early, yet she still remembered him and cared for him so deeply. How could he not be moved? His heart felt as though it had been gently seared by a touch of warmth straight down to the corners of his eyes. He blinked and reached up to brush away the glistening moisture at the edge of his vision, taking a step forward to raise his hand and knock upon the door.
“Who is it?” A startled voice called out from within, followed instantly by the door cracking open a sliver.
Gu Zhaoyan retrieved the strip of silk detailing his birth origins and passed it through the crack in the door.
The next instant, the door was pulled violently wide, and Concubine Zhou rushed out with swollen, reddened eyes. The moment she laid eyes upon Gu Zhaoyan’s shock of silver hair, she threw caution to the wind regarding his unfamiliar facial features, hurrying forward to pull him tightly into her embrace. She pulled back almost immediately, her tear-filled eyes trembling as her hands reached out to caress his cheeks. She seemed to want to say something, but her lips only trembled wordlessly. Was she dreaming? Had her An’er truly returned? Tears streamed freely from her eyes as Concubine Zhou wept silently, completely overcome.