Who belongs to you?
Outside Qili Pu Village, there was a small post station. In the past, these post stations primarily served the officials, but now, with peace reigning across the land, inns and taverns flourished among the common people. The officials had all become accustomed to a life of luxury, and few were willing to stop at the post station for rest and accommodation. As a result, the post station gradually declined, and on ordinary days, aside from delivering official reports, transporting goods, and handling paperwork, there wasn’t much to keep them busy. Some shrewd individuals would secretly conduct business to make a living.
This particular post station was in a rather awkward location; it was less than an hour’s journey southeast to Jin City, where most travelers went to rest and change horses. Therefore, it was common for ten days to pass without seeing a single person, and they often only received passing porters asking for water. Since there was a patch of vegetable fields behind the post station, the staff managed to get by with their modest land.
In the early morning, the mist was ethereal, and the rain fell like silk. The young attendant was sweeping the entrance as usual when he spotted someone riding swiftly towards him in the distance. The sound of galloping hooves was rapid, and the rider, clad in snow-white attire, wore a low-brimmed rain hat that concealed most of their face, appearing as if they were a spirit of the forest conjured from the spring mist. The young attendant was mesmerized, momentarily forgetting his chores and neglecting to invite the visitor in for a meal.
Before he could discern the rider’s appearance, the visitor dismounted and tossed the reins into the young man’s hands. Then, reaching into their garment, they retrieved a jade pendant and tossed it over, slightly lifting the brim of their hat to reveal a small portion of their rain-soaked chin. In a low voice, they said, “Young boss, please, I need a horse.”
The young attendant was short and could see the visitor’s face with a slight lean. At a glance, he noticed a pair of pale eyes, reminiscent of a lake’s color; unlike others whose eyes were either black or brown, this person had a hint of peculiar blue in their gaze. He had heard tales of foreign songstresses, their skin as white as snow, eyes as blue as lakes, and hair as light as gold, truly beautiful… The young noble before him bore some resemblance to those tales, but his excessively pale skin contrasted sharply with his ethereal features, making him appear even more aloof, as if he would vanish into the mist along with the rain as soon as it stopped.
The post station had been running for decades, and the young attendant had grown up here, working alongside his father for over ten years. He had seen many distinguished figures, yet he had never encountered someone so striking. He snapped back to reality at the sound of the visitor’s voice and hurriedly accepted the jade pendant.
However, being young and unfamiliar with the item, he dashed back into the station, shouting for his still-sleeping father, the postmaster: “Dad! A distinguished guest has arrived and needs to change horses; hurry up and take a look!”
“Who is it so early in the morning…” The postmaster grumbled internally but got up nonetheless. He ungraciously snatched the jade pendant from his son’s hands while complaining about the disturbance to his dreams. Just as he spoke, he looked down and was instantly taken aback, almost dropping the pendant in shock. He hurriedly tucked it away, adjusted his clothing, and rushed outside, excitedly exclaiming, “Oh my, I thought it was some official, but it turns out to be Lord Ji—”
Upon exiting, he froze again.
It wasn’t the older Lord Ji but rather a younger one.
He had never met the Ji family, but he recognized the pendant. Since they were of the Ji surname, they were prominent figures close to the emperor, individuals whose mere words could elevate even the lowliest of servants. He could not afford to offend such a person and quickly led out a robust yellow horse from the stable. After returning the jade pendant, he smiled and said, “Look at this horse; it’s a genuine yellow steed, capable of running eight hundred miles a day! Where is Lord Ji headed for business? Would you like to come inside and rest with some food and tea?”
Ji Hong didn’t answer; he coughed a couple of times, his brow furrowed, and his expression darkened. After taking the horse, he made no comments and mounted it.
At that moment, another voice shouted from outside, and a sleek chestnut horse trotted in, ridden by an arrogant young master who sneered at Ji Hong, “What kind of mixed breed is this? I don’t know how many generations of bloodline it’s muddled up, daring to call itself a yellow horse! I wonder if its mother was a donkey or a horse!”
“Mao Er!” Another fine steed approached, “If you don’t speak, no one will think you’re mute.”
The postmaster glanced at the horses of these two young masters and dared not retort. They were both genuine, high-quality steeds, far more valuable than his own mixed-breed, pseudo-yellow horse. However, the spirits of the two fine horses seemed to be low; their heads hung down as if they lacked the energy to chew the tender grass at their feet, fidgeting restlessly.
Ji Hong exchanged a glance with them, riding away, but was stopped by Min Xuefei, who struck his horse with a whip, saying, “Shuluan, you can’t leave any further. You don’t ride often, and it’s been three days without a break. If you continue to jostle like this, not only will your body suffer, but even the horse will collapse under you… Let’s rest for half a day.”
The amber horse under him snorted, and Min Mao stroked its mane, his face filled with concern as he chimed in, “Yes, Third Brother Ji! Look, both Jifeng and Amber can’t run anymore. I’ve got three layers of cushions under me, and I’m about to fall apart!”
“Your Highness, what Young Master Min said makes sense,” Duan Ming, who had just arrived, added, panting.
Ji Hong replied in silence, “Then you all rest; I’ll set off first.”
“Shuluan.” As the two horses crossed paths, Min Xuefei grabbed Ji Hong’s arm, glancing at his increasingly pale face, and earnestly advised, “Even if not for us, you should think of that young attendant. He just worked hard to get your body in shape; don’t take it for granted. Don’t wait until you return to the capital, and before he can find you, you’ve already collapsed.”
“Furthermore, you don’t even know where that ship is headed. Even if you rush back to the capital, what good will it do? If you head north while it goes west, wouldn’t that be a missed opportunity? It’s better to gather information along the way; that ship isn’t something ordinary families possess, and perhaps there will be unexpected news.”
Ji Hong tightened his grip on the reins, hesitating for a moment, and finally relented, “Fine, let’s rest for half a day.”
Everyone let out a sigh of relief, and Min Mao seemed particularly grateful, dismounting and rubbing his rear as he entered the post station, shouting for the boss to prepare food and wine and heat water for baths, then collapsing into a room, almost instantly falling asleep.
Min Xuefei tied up the horses. He, too, was exhausted, and though he didn’t immediately fall into a deep sleep like Min Mao, he was still so drained that he could barely lift his head. Turning around, he saw Ji Hong still standing at the post station entrance, gazing into the distance down the forest path. He approached and gently brushed the rain off the man’s shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry. He’s much more astute than others and has a bunch of clever ideas. He’ll surely turn danger into fortune.”
Ji Hong looked at the fine rain under the eaves, and for some reason, he smiled silently, “He always says he has great fortune. But who knows, all his good fortune was divided up when he encountered me, this calamity star. If I hadn’t bothered him in the first place and had not been so fond of that cup of flower tea…”
Ever since that young man was kidnapped, Ji Hong had appeared cold and composed on the surface, meticulously arranging all matters, but Min Xuefei, who had grown up alongside him, knew that his heart was already in chaos; otherwise, he wouldn’t utter such self-doubting words.
“Enough.” Halfway through his thought, Ji Hong had seen enough of the rain outside. He collected his melancholy demeanor and, in the blink of an eye, returned to being the calculating young duke.
In the capital, the Min family operated in the light, while the Ji family worked in the shadows. Neither could support the emperor’s desired checks and balances without the other. Minister Min was growing older and had already shown signs of wanting to retire, while Duke Li suffered from chronic illness—now, the heavy burden rested on Ji Hong and Min Ji.
Min Xuefei wasn’t power-hungry but valued authority, so he had always worried that Ji Hong was too infatuated with romance and might be easily manipulated by others. Now it seemed that Ji Hong had not been blinded by love, which eased his mind a little.
Ji Hong turned back to rest, and Min Xuefei watched him enter his room, settle down, and fall asleep before heading back to his own quarters.
His body began to violently rebel against the extreme fatigue, and once he fell asleep, he lost track of time, as if he had been falling endlessly from an abyss, landing at the bottom, every limb aching painfully.
At the bottom of the cliff lay a desolate expanse, with scattered rocks and a blanket of white snow. He turned to look, and amidst the dead grass and strange stones, in the shadowy, dim area, sat a skeletal figure, its flesh long rotted away. Its clothing was decaying, but its long black hair seemed to be entwined in the skull, dark as ink.
The bones were small in volume; it wasn’t his second brother, but it bore a fragment of a green garment and a broken “Eternal Longing” jade hairpin, with shattered leg bones protruding at odd angles, stark white and piercing to the eye.
He knew it was a dream, yet in an instant, his heart was filled with shock.
Ji Hong, ignoring the pain in his body, stumbled over and picked up a gemstone curved dagger from a pile of decaying bones. He had no idea how many years this skeleton had sat there; the gemstones were dim and crumbled at a touch, and the blade had rusted, making it impossible to pull out. However, the hair seemed to continue growing in strands, curling around his feet like a mass of dark clouds.
Holding the dagger, Ji Hong felt his heart racing from the intense pain, causing him to stumble and kneel, tightly clutching the putrid corpse. The hair seemed to come alive at his touch, gradually wrapping around him and the decaying body until it reached their necks.
He should have felt suffocated, but instead, he caught a whiff of a familiar fragrance. It was not some expensive, rare perfume but rather the simple smell of rice porridge, with a hint of sweetness, likely due to the addition of honey, allowing a strange numbness and joy to arise amidst his pain.
It wasn’t until the sound of rain outside faded and a pale half-moon peeked through, casting a glow across the ground, that he awoke from his hazy dream. He opened his eyes and instinctively reached beside him, feeling the curved dagger that the young man had forgotten to wear that day, letting out a sigh of relief.
After several days of galloping on horseback, this sleep finally took its toll on him. Ji Hong moved his arm; it ached painfully, as if run over by wheels. His palms bore red marks from gripping the reins tightly, and now they throbbed with pain.
Ji Hong thought to himself, was it because Jinnian had been waiting too long, resenting him for not bringing him home yet?
Yet the fragrance of rice lingered in his nostrils.
Suddenly feeling a bit disoriented, he lay still for a moment, noticing a thin blanket covering him. The bed curtains that had been open before were now drawn shut, and the porridge scent grew even stronger, rather than dissipating…
He abruptly propped himself up on his elbows, breathing rapidly, and pulled back the bed curtain, revealing a stove on the table, bubbling with hot porridge. A figure rested their head in their hand, dozing as they fanned the fire.
Perhaps his sudden movement startled Min Xuefei, who turned to look and immediately stood up, exclaiming, “You’re finally awake! You scared me to death.”
Ji Hong’s gaze dimmed gradually, his tense back fell back onto the bed. After a moment, he sat up by himself and asked, “…What happened to me?”
Min Xuefei reached out to support him. “You fell asleep this morning and have been out cold, looking quite pained. I called for a doctor, who said you caught a slight chill from the rain and were mentally exhausted, which is why you were gripped by nightmares. When I asked him how to wake you, he didn’t know, saying it depended on your fate.”
Ji Hong scoffed, “Quack. It was just exhaustion causing a bad dream.”
“Of course, in your eyes, every doctor in the world is a quack, and only your family doctor is a unique miracle worker—” Min Xuefei relaxed and began to tease him. However, as he spoke, he realized he had misspoken, promptly closing his mouth and turning back to serve porridge. “Everyone else has had their meal, but you wouldn’t wake up. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to drink medicine, so I had the innkeeper prepare sweet ginger porridge to chase away the chill. It’s been kept warm.”
After a moment of silence, Ji Hong took the porridge bowl, “When did you learn to do this?”
Min Xuefei returned to the table and watched him finish the porridge before replying with a smile, “Spending all day with your family has taught me a thing or two.” He picked up a small bamboo tube from the table and tossed it to Ji Hong. “Look, this came from the palace. It’s quite chaotic.”
Ji Hong opened the bamboo tube and pulled out a note filled with cramped, small handwriting. He read through it carefully, showing no significant reaction. He burned the note in the candle flame beside him and tossed the bamboo tube back to Min Ji.
Min Xuefei caught it in mid-air, crossing his legs as he asked, “I know without you saying, is it your sister?” He fiddled with the bamboo tube, chuckling, “Your family is quite interesting; Madam Ji would love nothing more than to peel you to the bone, yet her own daughter relies on you everywhere. But she is well-informed; your father still doesn’t know where you are, yet she does.”
Ji Hong ignored his remark and briefly summarized the contents of the letter. It mentioned that his concubine sister had recently confirmed her pregnancy but was startled by an unexpected incident involving a mysterious girl who had somehow entered the palace. While she was currently unharmed, she was understandably shaken, and her pregnancy was somewhat unstable.
The palace wanted to investigate this matter thoroughly, causing a stir. The concubine, not young anymore, had a hard-earned pregnancy, making her a bit paranoid, fearing a slip-up could lead to disaster. Therefore, she had sent a letter asking for his advice on how to proceed.
Ji Hong tore off a piece of paper, hastily scribbled a few words, and tossed it to Min Xuefei.
Min Ji sighed, “Am I just your family’s errand boy?”
Ji Hong replied, “She’s different.”
Min Xuefei paused for a moment, then realized what Ji Hong meant, and helplessly responded, “She is different, but it was her mother who secretly sent you medicine when she hit you twice. If she truly cared, why didn’t she stop her mother? Others are exchanging favors, but you’re left with nothing but sour fruit.”
“Why are you so talkative today?” Ji Hong raised an eyebrow slightly.
Min Xuefei huffed, walking out of the room.
After he left, Ji Hong leaned back against the pillow. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside, creating a soft sound, and aside from that, there was nothing else to be heard.
Exchanging favors?
If someone were willing to give him a peach, who would care if it were sour or bitter?
He pulled out the curved dagger again, sliding it in and out, letting the silver blade reflect on his face, brighter than the moonlight. He squinted, rubbing the gemstone on the hilt, softly sighing, “The first time entering a dream, it was so merciless; did he suffer great grievances outside?”
He asked, but no one answered.
It only added to his loneliness.
…
“Knock, knock, knock!”
Yu Jinnian was jolted awake from a deep slumber, turning to see a group of servants carrying wooden boards, preparing to nail shut his window! That damned merchant had already confined him; now they were sealing his window as well. He only had one hour a day when someone would open the window half a span, allowing him to steal a glance at the scenery outside. Occasionally, he would catch sight of fishing girls rowing by, and in his boredom, he couldn’t help but tease them.
Now, they wouldn’t even leave him that!
He rolled out of bed and ran to the window, glancing at the dim sunlight outside. He couldn’t tell what time it was, but his subconscious told him that the merchant was bound to appear soon. Sure enough, he spotted the merchant walking on the deck outside, and they exchanged a glance through the unsealed gap. Yu Jinnian puffed up like an angry dumpling and plopped back down at the table.
Yan Chang was momentarily taken aback by his reaction; he had expected the boy to start cursing but was met with nothing more than a simple glare.
In the first few days of being confined, Yu Jinnian had made a huge fuss, and Yan Chang couldn’t understand where he found all that energy. He would disturb the night endlessly, stirring up so much trouble that even the Eight Zhang River would be stirred to a froth. It took several days before he finally settled down.
The two had been vying against each other. Yan Chang felt surprisingly patient, enduring a series of creative insults without repeating himself, while his limits were tested time and again by the boy.
Today, as they were sealing his window, Yu Jinnian didn’t kick up a fuss; this made Yan Chang curious, and after that initial surprise, a satisfied smile crept across his face.
However, he quickly turned self-deprecating, mocking himself for feeling a bit disappointed that the boy hadn’t cursed him out.
He carried a plate of delicacies and a dish of fruits mixed with sugar, entering the eastern cabin as if it were his own room, without knocking. As he walked in, the sound of nails being hammered echoed, and the last beam of sunlight was blocked from entering the room.
Yan Chang sat down and glanced at the sealed window before shifting his gaze to the boy in front of him. The window was sealed, and there was no light on the table. The room was dim enough to disorient anyone, but Yan Chang could accurately find those amber-like eyes, quietly watching for a while before speaking softly, “I heard you stubbed your toe on the table yesterday. Does it still hurt? Take off your sock, let me see if it’s swollen.”
He thought he was being gentle and considerate, but the boy seemed ungrateful, clearly upset about the window being sealed. Yan Chang lowered his voice and said gravely, “It’s my thing; I don’t like others looking at it.”
“You’re full of shit!” Yu Jinnian retorted. “What do you mean it’s yours? Who belongs to you?”
Yan Chang finally felt at ease; at least the boy still had some fight left in him. He boldly sat down and pushed the fruit dish toward him, “Fresh ones. Have some.”
Yu Jinnian snatched the dish away, grabbing chopsticks but not using them. Instead, he clutched the fruits in his hand, treating them like Yan Chang himself, poking at them aggressively. A few strawberries were skewered on his chopsticks, the juices flowing like the lifeless heads on the city wall.
He took a bite, chewing loudly.
Yan Chang lit the lamp, and despite the bright sunshine outside, the room was as dim as a cellar. The yellowish candlelight flickered steadily, casting a warm glow around the boy. Yan Chang couldn’t quite understand why he was so drawn to the boy—he had a penchant for collecting ancient artifacts but knew that this person was not some rare gem of the world, nor could he assign a value to him.
If he wanted obedience, any common servant from the street would be more compliant; if he sought talent, Ji’s third son was a dazzling prodigy; if it was medical skills he wanted… Given how they were currently at odds, the boy would hardly be inclined to treat him.
So why keep him locked up?
Yu Jinnian finished the fruit platter in a few bites. He usually believed in leaving room for future encounters, avoiding harm that would only hurt himself. However, this time, he was genuinely enraged by the merchant, caring little whether he was a deity or a ghost; he was simply eager to compete with him.
After finishing the fruit, he slammed the dish down, propped up his legs, and chewed the remaining morsels with a nonchalant demeanor, imitating that incompetent young master Jiang, utterly unlike his usual self. Although the merchant was wicked, he had many rules; Yu Jinnian did everything contrary to them, clearly trying to infuriate him and match him in this ongoing rivalry.
Yan Chang came back to his senses and slightly raised his eyelids. A month ago, he had already lost his temper; he had even withheld food from the boy for two days, but ultimately, it was pointless. The boy wouldn’t yield, and instead, going hungry had inspired him to think of more tricks to torment him.
As one faces many provocations, their threshold for anger rises; at this moment, Yan Chang took Yu Jinnian’s insults in stride, calmly watching him with a peaceful heart, feeling rather relaxed, as if he had become a Buddha. It wasn’t that he had a penchant for being scolded; rather, he enjoyed watching the boy leap about with vibrant energy.
Just as he had done that day at the Dongchong Prefecture incense platform, or in his red robe flitting through the streets.
The question remained, why keep him captive? Perhaps it was simply to relish the clatter of pots and pans, to see him puff up his cheeks, yelling with an array of insults—how amusing it was.
As for what came next?
“Honey-glazed ribs, didn’t you say yesterday that you wanted to eat this?” Yan Chang brought out another plate. “Taste it and see if it suits your palate—too sweet or too salty? If it doesn’t suit you, I’ll have them make another batch.” Noticing Yu Jinnian staring at him, he adjusted his sleeves and calmly added, “What? Do you want to scold me again?”
Yu Jinnian hesitated for a moment, then replied, “…You’re sick.”
Yan Chang laughed heartily, “You got that right, I am indeed sick.”
Yu Jinnian: “…”
Yan Chang asked, “Anything else you want to say?”
With nothing else to say, Yu Jinnian asked, “Where is this ship going? Have we arrived at Jin City? What about my clever toys? You’re not going to go back on your word, are you?”
Yan Chang raised an eyebrow, surprised that he had landed in such a situation. Rather than seeking death or a hunger strike, he was still thinking about those toys. He chuckled softly and pulled out a small item from his sleeve, rolling it on the table. “We didn’t stop at Jin City because the spies had picked up on the whereabouts of the Ji family’s third son nearby. But I never go back on my word. Here, an octagonal lock. I got it while the boat was docked; there are a few other trinkets too. If you can make me happy, I’ll give them all to you.”
The reason they didn’t stop at Jin City was, of course, because the spies had caught wind of the third son of the Ji family lurking around.
Yu Jinnian shot him a sideways glance and reached out to beckon, “Hand it over.”
Yan Chang knew the boy didn’t have any weapons; the only sharp object, a jade hairpin, had already been smashed and thrown into the river. So he wasn’t on guard and extended his arm straight toward Yu Jinnian.
Yu Jinnian took Yan Chang’s pulse, closing his eyes as if he were genuinely diagnosing him.
“How is it?” Yan Chang asked, amused.
Yu Jinnian slowly shook his head, his expression grave. “Your pulse is rough, indicative of blood stasis blocking your meridians.” Yan Chang knew he had more to say and didn’t interrupt, quietly waiting for the boy to continue. Sure enough, Yu Jinnian clicked his tongue in surprise and said, “The blood stasis originates from the heart, Boss Xia, you have a case of pig fat clouding your mind! You’ve already fallen into the depths of illness, and there’s no saving you!”
Yan Chang had initially felt a pain in his shoulder, but hearing this made him chuckle, so he called for Zhou Feng and instructed him to bring out the remaining small trinkets.
Zhou Feng entered carrying a box, utterly baffled by his master’s thoughts. After all these years, he had never seen anyone get scolded all day and still be in such a good mood. If someone had told him a month ago that such a person existed in the world, and that it was indeed his master, he would have scoffed at their absurdity, insisting that either the master had gone mad or that the informant had lost their mind.
Now the truth proved that it was indeed his master who was mad.
Yan Chang had been so angered by Yu Jinnian that he hadn’t shown up for several days. After going through the ordeal of fasting, he came by daily without saying much—no grandiose speeches about poetry and scenery, let alone any mention of treating him. He brought wine, food, and fruit, occasionally a book, and just watched Yu Jinnian eat, sometimes talking to him, but Yu Jinnian wouldn’t always respond politely.
After sitting for an hour without saying much, he simply got up and left.
Yu Jinnian couldn’t quite understand what this man was trying to do. Even a bandit seizing a woman would at least seek out some beauty!
Zhou Feng, who had been following Yan Chang for ten years, was equally perplexed.
As they left the eastern cabin, Zhou Feng, unable to hold back any longer after half a month, returned to the room with his master. He poured tea and water, wanting to say something but hesitating, circling around without actually leaving. Finally, Yan Chang, setting down his brush and enduring a brief flicker of shoulder pain, looked up and frowned, “Why are you stammering? Just say what you want.”
Zhou Feng hurriedly spoke without a moment’s hesitation, “Master, wasn’t the reason for abducting him to treat you? You don’t mention treatment at all, but rather accompany him in eating and drinking every day while enduring his insults… What exactly are you after?”
Yan Chang replied cryptically, “In the palace, Concubine Shu has a beloved cat, originally a wild beast from the Hu Fan region. It was captured and presented to the emperor, then gifted to Concubine Shu. It is entirely snow-white, with eyes that shine like sapphires. She cherishes it as if it were her own child. Wild beasts are usually untamed, yet this creature has stayed with her for years, obedient and never harmed her once. How is that?”
Zhou Feng was confused about what he was trying to convey and shook his head.
Yan Chang slowly smiled, “Because it has been domesticated.”
He had been plotting for years and didn’t mind spending a little extra time to tame someone who was resistant.
“When will we arrive at the capital?” Yan Chang asked. “Also, has the matter in Luoluo City been clarified?”
Zhou Feng quickly replied, “If we don’t stop along the way, we should arrive in seven or eight days. Regarding Luoluo City… it’s confirmed that the Lu family died from excessive drinking, with no other suspicious points. His poor drinking capacity was well-known among the neighbors; it’s a pity about his wives and unborn children.”
“A pity?” Yan Chang scoffed, “They got what they deserved. But with this line broken, there will be trouble from the Salt and Iron Office. We’ll have to find someone else to fill that gap.”
Zhou Feng bowed his head in agreement, then recalled something, “Interestingly, just a few days before arriving in Luoluo City, he was with Young Master Yu and even helped diagnose the Lu family matriarch’s pregnancy.”
Yan Chang paused slightly, “That is peculiar; how did they encounter each other?”
Zhou Feng shook his head, “I don’t know. We originally planned to meet the Lüs at Taoxi but changed course to Luoluo City. The Lüs stayed behind for a couple of days, so it’s possible they met at Taoxi.”
Yan Chang nodded, “We can discuss this later. Zhou Feng, send a few people back to the Wangfu to prepare Qihui Courtyard. Also, gather a few maidservants with loyal dispositions, so they know exactly who their master is and don’t get misled by certain little things.”
Qihui Courtyard was adjacent to the main courtyard, originally built for the twelve royal consorts. However, since Yan Chang had yet to take a consort and was only recently bestowed the title of King of Yue, that courtyard had become dusty, and no one had ever lived there. The Yue King’s residence had few people, mostly trusted aides and guests, and activities were confined to the main courtyard. It was obvious who would be using the prepared Qihui Courtyard.
Zhou Feng didn’t think his master had any plans to take a male consort; however, the mere arrangement of placing the boy in Qihui Courtyard indicated that the master had a strong interest in him, one that wouldn’t fade away anytime soon. As the “Eunuch Feng,” he naturally needed to be meticulous in his planning, so he took his leave to make the arrangements.
Yan Chang dipped his brush again, hastily sketching a picture of a wild cat playing with orchids.
However, Yan Chang didn’t realize that some people could be tamed, becoming gentle and soft-spoken like water, much like that blue-eyed wild cat, who understood his lowly status and would never dare to offend. Yet others, despite having seemingly harmless faces, were inherently stubborn. To tame them could either require their willing submission or, if done forcibly, would only result in injury.
The King of Yue, residing in a high position, had never considered that Yu Jinnian was precisely that obstinate type.
Not to mention that at this moment, Yu Jinnian, lying in bed, didn’t feel bored or lonely. He recited medical texts in his mind for a while, pondered about the people at the noodle shop, then thought about his situation, and finally, with a carefree heart, turned over and fell asleep, dreaming of his Ji family’s third young master.
Yan Chang?
Sorry, no such person could be found.