Looking at the sea of golden rice, Yan Shian felt reluctant to leave. His mind, rarely at ease, had finally relaxed. He simply plopped down on the ground, refusing to budge, and picked up a stalk of rice. “Teach me how to tell if a rice stalk is good or not.”

“That’s easy,” Shi Buyu sat down beside him, took the stalk from his hand, and placed it on her palm. “Look, this entire stalk is nearly full—hardly any empty grains. If you squeeze it, each one is solid inside. When the harvest is bad, it’s the opposite—more empties than full ones, and they’re much lighter.”

She handed the stalk back to him. “Feels heavy, doesn’t it?”

Yan Shian weighed it in his hand. Without a comparison, he couldn’t really tell how heavy it was, but looking at the plump, full grains, he understood what she meant by heavy. He nodded in agreement.

“Farmers rely on the heavens to eat. The heavens really did show mercy this year.” Shi Buyu stood up, gazing out at the golden field with an unguarded look of contentment. “Too bad Old Whitebeard isn’t here to see it.”

“Is this kind of harvest rare?”

“It’s not often that the rice heads are this full.” She gave him a light kick. “Time to go home. I want to get back and paint.”

“You’re painting it for Old Whitebeard?”

“It’d be a shame for him to miss such a beautiful scene. If he can’t see it in person, he can at least see it in a painting.” Shi Buyu didn’t wait for his reply. Calling out for Ah Gu, she sprinted away along the ridge between the fields.

Yan Shian didn’t rush to leave. He stood with his hands behind his back, silently gazing at the golden sea before him.

Shi Buyu didn’t urge him either—in fact, she was secretly hoping he would stay and look even longer. Old Whitebeard had once said that the emperors known for benevolence in history were those who understood how hard the lives of farmers were. Their compassion shaped policies that truly cared for the people. And those people, in return, brought about a flourishing age.

She thought—Yan Shian should understand that too.

Though right now, she was getting hungry.

Lying on horseback, Shi Buyu listened to her stomach rumble like a siege drum in an empty city. She’d had a vegetarian lunch, and a small one at that, just to accommodate Yan Shian. She’d never eaten so little before.

Suddenly, a piece of candied malt appeared before her eyes.

Her eyes lit up, following the hand that held the candy to Ah Gu, her gaze sparkling.

Ah Gu popped the candy into her mouth, then handed her the rest of the small pouch with a teasing smile. “Young lady, your stomach’s empty-city act was loud enough to echo across the rice fields.”

“I’m hungry!” Shi Buyu mumbled with the candy in her mouth. The sweetness flowed down her throat, and finally, her stomach quieted.

Yan Ze stood nearby, hesitating to speak.

Shi Buyu glanced at him, then lay back down. “Don’t bother saying things you don’t mean. They’re light as feathers and useless. Better to just bring me more dishes each day. Tomorrow I want pork knuckle.”

“Yes.” Yan Ze felt secretly grateful. He could see it clearly—this girl might act unruly, but deep down, she was the most considerate of all.

They didn’t wait long before Yan Shian returned.

Shi Buyu, feeling mischievous again, purposely rode up to Steward Yan and, right in front of him, pulled out a piece of candy and handed it to Yan Shian. “Eat.”

Yan Shian took it without hesitation and popped it into his mouth. In past years, he never felt hunger no matter how long he knelt—as if he were numb, able to go without even drinking water. But today, despite eating earlier, he felt hungry again.

Yan Ze’s expression turned complicated. He had planned to bring a big pork knuckle tomorrow, but now he changed his mind—he’d bring a smaller one instead.

Feeling physically and mentally refreshed, Shi Buyu rode back into the city.

Back home, everyone returned to their rooms. She didn’t try to persuade him even once, didn’t say a single unnecessary word. Even if she thought the Madam had gone too far, she didn’t speak up—how a mother and son interacted was none of her business.

She only had one thing on her mind now: to paint that scene for Old Whitebeard!

But Yan Shian’s peace of mind lasted only until he reached his door.

Luo Bo was waiting there, handing him a letter. “Madam requests you go to the address written here. Aunt Huaihua has already been taken away.”

Yan Shian took the letter and read it. As expected, it was a new residence he’d never visited before. Other than Jianguo Temple, his mother never saw him in the same place twice.

“Master…” Yan Ze looked worried. Although he knew his young master was grown now, he’d never once had the upper hand against Madam.

“I’ll go alone.”

Luo Qing and Yan Ze said in unison, “We’ll go with you.”

“If you go, then you’ll just become leverage she can use against me.” Yan Shian slowly folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “What’s there to fear? She worked so hard to raise me—she’s counting on me to get revenge for him. She won’t kill me.”

Without even entering the house, Yan Shian turned and left.

The place wasn’t far—he arrived within fifteen minutes.

He knocked on the door. It was opened by Orchid Aunt, who always served by his mother’s side.

As they walked in a few steps, she softly warned, “Madam is very angry. Be agreeable.”

Yan Shian smiled. “When have I ever not been?”

Her honest words left Orchid Aunt speechless. She led him in, dismissed the others, and stayed to guard the courtyard gate.

The scene before Yan Shian was all too familiar: a slender figure in black, kneeling on a mat, back straight and stiff, radiating a cold, hard aura that kept everyone at a distance.

Kneeling beside her was Aunt Huaihua, who had served him for years. From the looks of it, she had yet to be punished.

“Mother.”

A hoarse voice came from her. “Kneel.”

There was no mat for him. Yan Shian knelt directly on the floor. “Please take care of your health.”

“You only knelt for two hours today. You can make up the remaining six here.”

“Forgive me, Mother. There are still many matters to attend to at home.”

Silence spread in the room. After a moment, the woman stood and turned to face him. She likely hadn’t smiled in a long time—her face was tight, brows furrowed, clearly displeased with everything. Yet her features were exquisite. In her youth, she must have been a stunning beauty.

“Has it been so long you’ve forgotten the lessons?”

Yan Shian looked up at the face both familiar and strange. “Mother, how long has it been since you last truly looked at my face?”

She didn’t understand what he meant. Her eyes grew sharper.

“You once scared a seven-year-old child into submission—he was terrified everyone around him would die, afraid of making you angry, so he let you control everything.” Yan Shian stood, looking down at his mother. “But now I’m taller than you. If you slaughter everyone before my eyes—so what? Once they’re dead, you’ll just have to send me another batch of people. If I still displease you, go ahead and keep slaughtering. If you no longer need me and want to seize that position yourself, kill me too. See if I’ll even blink.”

“Ji’an!”

“Your son is here. Please speak.”

Her face was beyond pale—there was a storm gathering in her whole demeanor. “Was it her who turned you against me? I should never have let her stay!”

Yan Shian laughed. “Why would you believe that someone raised by you could be so easily swayed by someone he’s only known for a few months? If I were so weak-willed, then was it my character that was flawed all along—or your years of teaching that failed?”