The woman chuckled coldly and held out her hand.

Huaihua quickly stood and helped her to a seat.

“I’ve lived through palace intrigue in my youth and spent the years since walking on the edge of a cliff. Do you really think such petty tricks can fool me? Provoking me just to tell me I was wrong—willing to risk the lives of everyone around you just to protect her. You’ve taken a liking to her, haven’t you?” the woman looked at him.

“I don’t have the right,” Yan Shian sat across from her, his posture tense but unyielding. “I’m a mere puppet in another’s hands. If I’m lucky and succeed in the grand plan, then living on would just be a vivid example of what it means to have no control over one’s life. And if I die in the process, I refuse to drag an innocent person into this life-and-death game.”

“You’re blaming me?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t dare. But if you had asked me before giving birth to me, I would have rather never been born.” Yan Shian ignored his mother’s sudden change in expression. Fingers interlaced on his lap, he appeared relaxed, but his body was taut. “I’ve lived twenty years and I don’t know what food I like, what drinks I enjoy. I don’t know what it feels like to be happy. I don’t know what it’s like to be drunk. I’ve never experienced what it’s like to be protected, never lived recklessly, never… known a parent’s love.”

Yan Shian lowered his gaze, staring at his clasped hands. He raised them for her to see. “I have nothing. Even I, myself, feel like I don’t exist. If I disappear, then I disappear.”

The woman pressed her lips tightly together, clutching the armrest, barely holding herself back.

“But you’re right. I am protecting her.” Yan Shian seemed determined to get everything off his chest today. “Because with your nature, once you suspect someone, you won’t spare their life.”

“And knowing that, you still want to protect her?”

“Yes,” he said quietly, his tone steady. “I want to protect her.”

The woman took out a dagger and pressed it to her wrist. “What if I don’t agree?”

Yan Shian threw his head back and laughed wildly, pounding the armrest as he laughed like a madman. “Mother, your tactics haven’t changed in ten years! Not a shred of progress!”

The woman remained unmoved. “As long as they work.”

“Oh, do they?” Yan Shian quickly pulled a dagger from his boot and slashed his own arm. Blood spurted out.

“Then I’ll die with you.”

“You… you’d rather hurt yourself than obey me again…” The woman stared at him as though seeing a stranger. That child who used to cry whenever she bled, now willingly bled himself just to disobey her.

Huaihua rushed forward to tend to his wound, but Yan Shian pushed her away, seemingly impervious to pain. He smiled as he stretched out his bloody arm. “Back then, you cut your arm. As long as you went to the doctor, I would promise you anything. Now I’ve cut mine, and all you care about is that I’d rather hurt myself than listen to you. Mother, you loved Father deeply… but towards me, you’ve truly been cruel.”

Grabbing the soft cloth from Huaihua’s hands, he roughly wrapped the wound himself, then stood and walked to the door. With his back to her, he said, “You can’t touch her. Her Seventh Senior Brother is the famed scholar, Young Lord Cheng Junyu. Her Fifth Senior Brother is Kuang Jing, Prefect of Yanxi Commandery. And she has many more senior brothers like them. Even her maid is skilled in combat. As for herself—her mind is the sharpest I’ve ever seen. With her help, my chances of success grow significantly. Even if you dislike her, for the sake of the cause, and for Father’s blood-debt, you’ll have to endure it.”

The woman walked to the door, gripping the wooden frame, wanting to call out to him. But it was as though her throat had been poisoned silent. Whether “Ji An” or “Shian,” she could say neither.

They were like strangers—so estranged that they felt more like enemies than mother and son, both trying to make the other suffer.

Thinking this, she could no longer suppress the tickle in her throat and began coughing violently. Lan Hua ran over with medicinal tea and helped her drink.

After a while, the coughing subsided. The woman murmured, “He hates me. He actually hates me.”

Lan Hua hugged her mistress tightly, her eyes red. So many years, and her mistress had been too fixated on avenging the late emperor, forgetting that children eventually grow up.

The mistress had suffered over the years, but the young master had too.

She looked up and said to Huaihua, “You may go. Don’t ever keep such matters from me again.”

She glanced at her mistress and blinked deliberately.

Huaihua understood, bowed, and left. Seeing that the lady gave no further reprimand, she was more certain she had done the right thing. The young master had grown up. It was time to let him make his own decisions.

---

Yan Shian returned home with the blood-soaked cloth still wrapped around his arm.

When Wanxia heard the news, she thought for a moment, then went to tell her young lady.

Shi Buyu had just finished a painting. She looked at the solitary figure rendered in yellow tones and said, “From strong mother, weak son, to weak mother, strong son—one must eventually adapt. If a little blood is all it takes to shift the balance of power, that’s a smooth transition. We’re outsiders in this; we shouldn’t interfere.”

“You’re not worried, miss?”

“Worried about what?” Shi Buyu stood and washed her hands. “What does his family matter to me? If Yan Shian can’t handle even this, then I’d better pack up and leave.”

Wanxia was relieved. “I have some good medicine. I’ll have Zhai Zhi deliver it to Young Master Yan.”

Shi Buyu was about to say he likely had better medicine already, but quickly understood her aunt’s true meaning and said no more. Living under the same roof, they couldn’t just pretend to be blind.

Thinking this, she said, “Why don’t I deliver it myself?”

Wanxia tried to stop her, but the girl was already excited. “Auntie, give me the medicine!”

Wanxia sighed. “Just have Qingshan or Zhai Zhi go.”

“It’ll mean more if I do it myself.”

That was true, but still…

“Auntie, which one should I take?”

Seeing her open the medicine box already, Wanxia relented. “The one on the far left.”

Shi Buyu opened it, sniffed it, then sneezed violently and quickly sealed it again. “Auntie, help me pack up this painting and send it to Seventh Brother. Have him find a reliable person to deliver it to Old Whitebeard.”

“Got it.”

Shi Buyu pocketed the little porcelain bottle and headed to Yan Shian’s courtyard.

Yan Ze’s eyes were red. When he saw her, his voice was hoarse as he greeted her, “Cousin.”

“Is the injury serious?” Shi Buyu didn’t give him a chance to block her. She pushed past him and went straight inside.

Yan Ze recalled the young master’s earlier warning and hurried to intercept her. “The young master is resting. Maybe come back tomorrow, cousin?”

Shi Buyu smirked and held up the porcelain bottle. “This is my aunt’s legendary remedy. Are you going to let me in or not?”

Gritting his teeth, Yan Ze stepped aside. Nothing was more important than the young master’s health.

Shi Buyu entered smoothly. Her usual teasing words died on her lips the moment she saw the wound—she hadn’t expected it to be so long.

“It’s just a scratch, no tendons injured.” Yan Shian had just cleaned the wound. His forehead was beaded with sweat, lips pale, yet he still wore a faint smile.

Shi Buyu sat cross-legged beside him, pulled the stopper from the bottle, and carefully applied the powder to the wound.

Even Yan Ze didn’t dare stop her this time.