Chapter 24

Fang Hanxiao withdrew his gaze and stepped through the open door.

To facilitate packing, the curtains in both the main reception room and the inner room where Yingyue stayed had been drawn up, revealing the furnishings inside at a glance.

A maid, upon seeing him, curtsied and greeted, “Young Master.”

Standing at the entrance of the inner room, Fang Hanxiao surveyed the space. The changes weren’t drastic—aside from the newly added desk by the window, most furniture remained in their original positions. Yet, the dressing table now held a cosmetics case, the shelves were adorned with cloth towels, a vase graced the table, and the rosewood lattice shelf was neatly stacked with two and a half rows of books.

It was these additional rows of books that transformed the ambiance of the bridal chamber.

The curtains, bed drapes, quilts, and the festive red window decorations—though still vividly present—now seemed subdued, no longer as glaringly ostentatious as before.

Fang Hanxiao fell silent. Suddenly, he understood why Old Master Fang had so decisively arranged his betrothal with the Xu family long ago.

The books in this chamber weren’t numerous, and many appeared well-worn at first glance. Yet, they exuded a scholarly air far surpassing even Old Master Fang’s own quiet study, where he convalesced. The walls there were lined with calligraphy and paintings—displayed for others to admire, showcasing the owner’s refined taste. But the corner by Yingyue’s window was purely for her own use. Her reading and writing were natural, habitual acts, not meant to convey any message to others. Yet, stepping into this room, one could instinctively sense whether the occupant was truly scholarly.

This was the true cultural heritage of the Xu family as a household of letters—at least during the time when Old Minister Xu was still alive. Such refinement couldn’t be replicated by Old Master Fang, whose background was military, no matter how many books and paintings he displayed. Old Master Fang’s admiration for the Xu family’s scholarly prestige and his early arrangement of the marriage alliance were indeed well-founded.

Thus, Fang Hanxiao truly bore no resentment toward him in this regard. The Fang family held a hereditary noble title, but it could only be passed down to one descendant per generation. The rest had to forge their own paths. The martial path was fraught with peril; opening a literary avenue would provide descendants with an alternative. That things had gone awry midway was not Old Master Fang’s fault.

At this moment, Yuzan, standing beside Yingyue, reported, “Red-lacquered wooden buckets—”

Yingyue, dipping her brush in ink, didn’t hear the rest and urged, “How many?”

Yuzan replied softly and swiftly, “Two,” then curtsied to Fang Hanxiao. “Young Master is here.”

Yingyue paused her brush, then quickly filled in the number before carefully placing it on the brush stand. She turned and stood up.

She wore a pale pink blouse—the closest among her old clothes to a suitable hue for a new bride. Her hair was styled in a Returning Heart Bun, where strands at the forehead were coiled into a heart-shaped loop at the front, with the remaining hair gathered into a bun and adorned with hairpins. The style should have exuded mature charm, but on Yingyue, paired with her delicate features, the heart-shaped loop at her forehead lacked any coquettishness, instead appearing delightfully playful. Her clear eyes blinked, radiating a pure, lively spirit.

Fang Hanxiao nodded slightly and walked over, picking up the brush she had set down. His gaze incidentally swept over the sheet of rice paper she had been writing on.

One bronze incense burner—

Two red-lacquered wooden buckets—

…

What nonsense.

Ying Yue noticed him looking and quickly hid the paper to the side, a bit awkwardly saying, “My dowry.”

She hadn’t intended to explain, but Fang Han Xiao’s strange expression—as if he had seen something unbelievable—made her feel compelled to clarify.

Her instincts weren’t wrong. Fang Han Xiao was indeed puzzled.

At first glance, he recognized the slightly familiar, neat handwriting—the same one Ying Yue had used in their hurried written exchange before. Because it didn’t resemble the delicate script typical of young ladies, he had remembered it. Now, seeing it again, such bold strokes seemed more suited for essays or poetry. Yet what had she written? Incense burners and wooden buckets?

But since she used this handwriting for such mundane items, it must be her usual style.

He pulled over a sheet of paper and wrote: *Where’s your dowry list?*

Whatever the Xu family had provided as her dowry, there should have been an accompanying list. Without it, disputes could arise later with no way to clarify.

Ying Yue tugged a booklet from the side and handed it to him. “Here.”

Fang Han Xiao didn’t take it, merely raising his eyebrows in question.

Ying Yue hesitated, reluctant to explain. But Fang Han Xiao stood there, watching her with deep, patient eyes, as if willing to wait indefinitely. Finally, she mumbled, “It’s wrong. Some things are mixed up.”

Though it wasn’t her fault, as a member of the Xu family, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for Madam Xu. Not only had Madam Xu hastily packed random items as her dowry, but in the rush, the list itself was inaccurate. The quantities might roughly match, but a copper incense burner was listed as porcelain, and a wooden bucket as a basin—how could these match the actual items? After checking a few, Ying Yue realized she’d have to redo the list. Otherwise, over time, such discrepancies would only pile up into an irreparable mess.

Fang Han Xiao frowned slightly and wrote: *How much difference in value?*

He didn’t care how much dowry Ying Yue had brought—even if she had arrived empty-handed, it wouldn’t have mattered to him. But if Madam Xu had manipulated the list, inflating cheap items as expensive ones, that was another matter entirely.

Ying Yue thought for a moment. “Probably not much. It’s just disorganized.”

Again, Madam Xu had wanted the substitute marriage to succeed, so she wouldn’t have dared to play such tricks. The list was chaotic simply because she had been too overwhelmed to manage it properly.

Fang Han Xiao let it go and wrote: *I have business to attend to. Skip the return visit tomorrow.*

Ying Yue blinked. “Return visit?”

His gaze watched as her confusion slowly cleared into understanding. Clearly, if he hadn’t mentioned it, she would have completely forgotten about the tradition.

It wasn’t Ying Yue’s fault—her entire wedding had been a whirlwind, leaving her unable to keep track of customs like a typical bride. After a pause, she nodded slowly. “Oh.”

She didn’t ask what business could possibly outweigh the return visit ritual because, upon reflection, she wasn’t eager to go back either.

Madam Xu had pushed her out, severing her last thread of security tied to the Xu family. She had once insisted on returning, but only because she had been forced to choose the lesser of two bad options. Now that she realized there was no going back, she no longer wanted to.

For Madam Xu, Ying Yue couldn’t say she hated her—she rarely harbored such intense emotions. She simply didn’t want to see Madam Xu again anytime soon. She didn’t know how to face her. Not hating her felt unfair, but hating her wouldn’t change anything either.  

As for the fate that had brought her to this point, Ying Yue seemed to be adapting little by little, but in truth, her heart was still mostly adrift in confusion.  

She wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions, and this bewilderment showed on her face, making her look oddly forlorn.  

Fang Hanxiao glanced at her. Just moments ago, when he had seen her through the window, she had been smiling so brightly, her lips curled upward. Now, hearing that he wouldn’t let her return to her family home, she looked like this. His foot, which he had been about to lift to leave, somehow slowed, as though he couldn’t bring himself to step away.  

He wrote another line on the paper: *The servants your family had detained were just sent back.*  

He was referring to Mama Cai and the others, who had been severely beaten by Madam Hong. Madam Hong had held onto them until now, unwilling to let go, still scheming about how she might use them. But Fang Hanxiao paid no attention, and Madam Xu didn’t dare send anyone to demand their return—so they had remained stuck in Madam Hong’s hands.  

Finally, Madam Hong grew impatient, realizing that after all, they were just servants. Holding onto them any longer wouldn’t achieve anything, so she had them driven out. Fang Hanxiao happened to run into them on his way to the bridal chamber.  

His intention in telling Ying Yue was that even if she didn’t return, at least her family’s servants had been released, which would make her look slightly better in terms of familial duty.  

Ying Yue blinked and said, “Oh.”  

She didn’t care about Mama Cai and the others—they were Madam Xu’s people. Whether Madam Hong released them or not, she didn’t feel it had anything to do with her. Or, to be precise, she didn’t think she needed to make any effort to maintain ties with Madam Xu. Where there was no affection to begin with, how could it be maintained?  

Fang Hanxiao: “…”  

He realized he had misunderstood. This little girl’s heart was harder than he had thought. If she had been concerned about her family, she wouldn’t have reacted so indifferently to the news of their release.  

Of course, this was actually normal. After going through the ordeal of being forced into a substitute marriage, only a fool would still hold onto illusions about her family. But when it came to this kind of realization, it was often easier said than done.  

He couldn’t help but glance at Ying Yue again, only to find her staring at the brush in his hand.  

Belatedly, she began to worry. This brush was beautiful and valuable—had he seen her using it? Would he take it away now? What a pity—she had only written a few characters with it.  

Fang Hanxiao, under her gaze, paused just as he was about to set the brush back. He had already noticed that she was straightforward, incapable of pretense, but sometimes her thoughts took strange turns, and he couldn’t always guess what she was thinking.  

Like now. After hesitating for a moment, he still placed the brush back on the stand. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her eyes lighting up, her lips curling again, as if she had gotten away with something. She looked like she was suppressing a secret laugh.  

Fang Hanxiao understood, speechless.  

This jade-handled brush had been his most frequently used writing tool when he was home. As someone who practiced martial arts, his body ran warm, so the coolness of the brush that felt icy to Ying Yue was just right for him. Holding this brush helped him calm his mind.  

He didn’t know why she had taken such a liking to it, clinging to the thought of keeping it.  

Just then, a maid suddenly rushed in, panting, and said, “Young Master! An envoy from the palace has come to visit the Old Master! The Old Master requests your immediate return!”  

The palace?

Ying Yue and the maids in the room all looked over in surprise. Fang Han Xiao gave a slight nod and, without delay, swiftly followed her out.

＊＊

The envoy from the palace had been sent by imperial decree to inquire after Old Master Fang’s health and was already in his room.

Lord Fang had also hurried over, arriving slightly ahead of Fang Han Xiao. He was now all smiles as he exchanged pleasantries with the attendant he addressed as “Eunuch Fu.”

This envoy, Eunuch Fu, was neither old nor high-ranking—far from being a senior eunuch. In the palace, he wouldn’t even merit the title “Eunuch.” Yet Lord Fang’s courtesy toward him was not without reason. Though Eunuch Fu himself was insignificant, his mentor was none other than Eunuch Zhang, a close attendant to the emperor who could relay messages directly to the throne.

“Such boundless imperial grace! Eunuch, please convey my deepest gratitude—”

Fang Han Xiao entered just as Lord Fang was speaking. He first took a few steps toward the bed, ensuring Old Master Fang was resting comfortably and showed no signs of distress, before quietly moving to stand behind Lord Fang.

Lord Fang held no official post and rarely had the chance to engage with the emperor’s inner circle. After the pleasantries, he continued expressing his loyalty and gratitude. Eunuch Fu, with his refined features and patient demeanor, listened with a smile, nodding occasionally to assure Lord Fang that his words would be relayed to the emperor. Encouraged, Lord Fang grew even more fervent, oblivious to how much he had already spoken—after all, could one ever say too much in pledging loyalty?

Only when he had exhausted every possible expression of devotion did he reluctantly pause.

During this exchange, Eunuch Fu had already discreetly observed Fang Han Xiao twice. Seizing a lull in the conversation, he smiled and asked, “This must be the young master of the household?”

Fang Han Xiao nodded. Lord Fang quickly added, “Indeed. Ah, Eunuch, please forgive him—poor lad, misfortune has left him unable to speak. If you have any instructions, you may relay them to me.”

Eunuch Fu chuckled. “This one is rather inconvenient—it must be spoken to the young master alone.”

His expression suddenly turned solemn. “An imperial decree.”

Lord Fang’s knees buckled, and he immediately dropped to the floor. Old Master Fang struggled to rise from his bed, but Fang Han Xiao turned to assist him. Realizing his oversight, Lord Fang hastily crawled forward to help as well. Eunuch Fu interjected, “Old Master, there’s no need to exert yourself. The decree is for the young master.”

Old Master Fang exhaled heavily as Fang Han Xiao helped him lie back down before kneeling where he stood.

Though the decree was for Fang Han Xiao, Lord Fang, being present, had no choice but to kneel as well. Prostrate on the ground, his eyes brimmed with unease.

Eunuch Fu delivered the oral edict: “By imperial decree, Fang Han Xiao is summoned to the palace tomorrow for an audience with His Majesty in the Imperial Study.”

Hearing no further instructions, Lord Fang and Fang Han Xiao kowtowed in acknowledgment.

Once they rose, Lord Fang couldn’t help but ask, “His Majesty summoning Han Xiao—but he cannot speak!”

What he truly wanted to ask was why the emperor would suddenly summon a nobleman’s son with neither rank nor office—but fearing impropriety, he swallowed the question.

However, Eunuch Fu was quite amiable and smiled warmly, saying, “The young master may not be able to speak, but he can certainly write. His Majesty has been reminiscing about the loyal ministers who served him for many years. When he heard that Old Master Fang was gravely ill and bedridden, he sighed in sorrow. But now, upon learning that the young master has returned and devoted himself day and night to caring for his grandfather with such filial piety—even to the point where Old Master Fang seems to have improved—His Majesty was overjoyed. Thus, he wishes to summon the young master for an audience. Since the young master has been so attentive in his care, naturally, he would know the situation best, wouldn’t he?”

Lord Fang: “…”

The rumor about Fang Hanxiao diligently tending to Old Master Fang had been spread by Lord Fang himself—to keep Fang Hanxiao from moving about freely and to prevent his own schemes from being exposed.

Now, that very rumor had reached the emperor’s ears.

And the emperor wanted to summon him.

Lord Fang felt his knees ache and his feet throb even more painfully.

Suppressing the urge to cough up blood, he escorted Eunuch Fu out.

Just then, Old Master Fang coughed twice from his bed, and Fang Hanxiao lingered a moment longer to check on him.

When he finally stepped out, his haste made his movements seem somewhat reckless—he bumped into Eunuch Fu, who suddenly found his hand filled with a small pouch.

—Hastily given by Old Master Fang through Fang Hanxiao.

Eunuch Fu’s brows relaxed, and without a word, he simply followed Lord Fang’s lead until they reached the gate, where he bid farewell and strode away.

***

Upon returning to the palace, Eunuch Fu became Little Fuzi once more.

After reporting to the emperor, Eunuch Zhang privately questioned him further.

Little Fuzi curled his lip and said, “Grandpa, no wonder they say prolonged illness tests even the most filial sons. The way Lord Fang treats Old Master Fang—why, he’s not even half as devoted as I am to you!”