The two of them could truly be called inseparable.
Yu Jinnian held the bowl, blowing on each spoonful to cool it before feeding it to the man seated at the desk. Inside was the Three Delicacies Congee he’d had prepared the night before but hadn’t managed to serve. The congee was made with finely minced chicken and shrimp, mushrooms diced as small as peas—light and fragrant, just the sort of delicate flavor Ji Hong usually favored.
There wasn’t time to make something fresh today, so he reheated it and served it up.
But Ji Hong only kept slowly wiping down the blade of his sword, showing no interest in the congee. Not until Yu Jinnian brought the spoon right up to his mouth did he glance over in mild confusion, then reluctantly opened his mouth and swallowed. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, so one bowl was far from enough. Believing Ji Hong was suffering from suppressed emotion—*yuzheng*—Yu Jinnian had also secretly mixed a liver-soothing herbal formula into some sweet red bean paste and, while Ji Hong slept soundly at dawn, snuck into the kitchen to shape a basket of rabbit-shaped buns.
The rabbit ears were molded with red yeast rice-dyed dough, and the eyes were made with tiny red beans. When steamed, the six buns came out plump and snowy-white, their sweetness laced with a faint herbal note—just enough for someone like Ji Hong, who didn’t particularly like sweets.
Once Ji Hong had finished wiping the sword, he silently pulled Yu Jinnian closer and began fastening the *Wuzai* sword to his waist. Yu Jinnian reached out to stop him, hand on the hilt. Ji Hong instantly froze, eyes flickering as if worried he was upsetting him. The moment Yu Jinnian let go, Ji Hong brightened like a child granted a privilege and carefully secured the sword, adjusting it until he was satisfied.
Only then did he accept the rabbit bun from Yu Jinnian’s hand and begin eating, slowly and quietly. He didn’t speak or fuss—he looked perfectly normal. Anyone else might never guess something was wrong. If Yu Jinnian hadn’t spent all of last night awake beside him, cradling him under the candlelight, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.
As Ji Hong noticed people staring, he frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”
Yu Jinnian stared at him, then pointed at Min Xuefei. “Who is that?”
Ji Hong smiled faintly. “Isn’t that Xuefei? Second Brother, why are you talking nonsense?”
Yu Jinnian: “……”
“…Right. Nothing, nothing. Eat, just eat.” He pushed the rabbit bun back toward Ji Hong’s mouth, then stood up, adjusting the sword at his own waist, and turned to Min Xuefei. “You see? That’s the situation. How did he recover back then?”
Min Xuefei frowned too. “I only saw him have an episode twice as a child. I don’t really know how he got better… it seemed like… he just got better on his own?”
That explanation was as good as no explanation.
Yu Jinnian looked at the others. Duan Ming shook his head like a rattle-drum. They had left the Ji estate not long after Ji Yan’s burial, and hadn’t been around to see how Ji Hong had grown up, let alone what happened after. The old nannies and servants who used to care for him had either left or passed away. Who knew where to find them now?
And he couldn’t exactly ask the Marchioness of Ji herself, could he? If she knew Ji Hong had turned into this overnight, she might very well clap her hands and laugh, calling it well-deserved retribution.
Watching the scene, Jiang Bingren leaned on his palm and mused, “Maybe he’s just gone mad. Might never get better, huh?”
“Peh! You’re the mad one!” Yu Jinnian kicked over his stool, sending it flying. Shi Xing scrambled to catch it.
Clutching his sore butt, Jiang Bingren whined, “Aren’t you the one with unmatched medical skill? Go cure him then! Why kick me!”
Yu Jinnian nearly launched another kick to send the brat back to Xin’an. Sure, he knew things others here didn’t—but that didn’t mean he knew everything! He could talk circles about internal, external, pediatric, women’s, and orthopedic medicine—but this? He hadn’t studied this. He really didn’t know.
Min Xuefei added, “These past years, he’s lived all alone. Not even a servant. If it weren’t for my useless third brother pestering him every so often, he might have already driven himself mad by now.”
Meanwhile, Ji Hong had finished the rabbit bun and gone back to reading official documents, quietly writing as if nothing were wrong. Yu Jinnian thought, *Thank goodness—he can still handle paperwork. At least he’s not completely gone yet.*
Despite what Jiang Bingren said, he didn’t *actually* believe Ji Hong had gone mad. So, with a reckless sort of courage, he walked right up to him, circled him twice, then suddenly said, “Lord Ji, let me ask you something.”
He pointed toward Yu Jinnian. “That’s your Second Brother, right? Then who’s Yu Jinnian? The one who makes you medicinal meals, warms your bed, watches over you night and day when you’re sick, and collapsed with stomach illness from working too hard to stop the epidemic—who’s that?”
“……”
Ji Hong held his brush. Ink seeped slowly from its tip.
He seemed stunned by the question—confused. He looked at Yu Jinnian, as if he wanted to say “Second Brother,” but no sound came out.
Min Xuefei was about to intervene and change the subject when Yu Jinnian beat him to it. The youth stormed forward, yanked Jiang Bingren aside. “What are you doing? His mind’s not even clear right now. Get out.”
The two of them argued all the way outside. Min Xuefei, Shi Xing, and the others followed to prevent a scuffle.
Once out of earshot, Yu Jinnian shoved Jiang Bingren a few steps away. “Stay back.”
Jiang Bingren, stubborn as ever, lifted his chin. “If he really can’t be cured, are you going to play Second Brother for him forever? Let me remind you—if you’re his Second Brother, then you can’t sleep in the same bed anymore. Can’t kiss. Can’t hug. Can’t whisper sweet things in the dark. You hear me?”
He reached out and yanked the sword from Yu Jinnian’s waist. “Go! Throw that sword in his face! Tell him, ‘Who wants to be your brother? I want to be your lover!’ See if that wakes him up!”
Yu Jinnian frowned, hand outstretched. “Give it back. You don’t understand what I’m saying!”
Jiang Bingren jabbed a finger toward the room. “Then go say it to *him*! Why are you mad at me? I didn’t make him like this!”
“Jiang Ya!” Shi Xing pulled him behind himself. “Enough out of you. It’s chaotic enough already.”
Jiang Bingren huffed, then hurled the *Wuzai* sword down by his feet. A puff of dust kicked up, and he stormed off. Shi Xing looked helplessly at Yu Jinnian and rushed to follow.
Min Xuefei stepped forward, stooping with his uninjured arm to pick up the sword. He handed it back to Yu Jinnian with a calm voice. “He’s on your side. Just… doesn’t know how to talk. Don’t take it to heart.”
Yu Jinnian accepted the sword wearily, brushing off the dust with his sleeve. “Forget it. I’ll change your dressing.”
In the side room, he placed the sword aside and fetched the medicine box. He carefully snipped away Min Xuefei’s old bandage, reapplied the ointment, and began wrapping fresh gauze—silent the whole time.
Min Xuefei had seen it firsthand. After Ji Hong was rescued from the snowy plains, he would relapse from time to time—episodes so intense he’d laugh and cry in turns, speak nonsense, fail to recognize anyone. He’d talk to the air as if someone was actually there, frightening his attendants out of their minds. They’d go running to the Marchioness, claiming the second young master’s ghost was haunting the estate.
The Marchioness had always disliked this illegitimate son. After Ji Yan’s death, she loathed him even more. When rumors of haunting reached her ears, she seized the moment. One day, while the Marquis was away from the capital, she stormed into Kanghe Courtyard, beat Ji Hong half to death, and locked him up.
Min Xuefei had only discovered this when he brought a new item to share and found Ji Hong starved for three days, burning with fever—half his life already gone. Strangely enough, that ordeal had jolted him clear, and he hadn’t relapsed again for years.
Compared to that, Ji Hong’s current state… was already far better. So while Min Xuefei often clashed with Yu Jinnian, at this moment, he felt real sympathy, a rare flicker of pity. Fingering the inscription on the sword, he said lightly, “When the late emperor reigned, there was a reclusive master craftsman who forged two blades from refined iron. They were presented to His Majesty. On the day of the offering, a great omen appeared—five-colored clouds arose in the eastern sky and lingered over the palace for a full hour. That very moment, two urgent victories were reported: General Ji had routed the Northern Di, and the Twelfth Prince had repelled the Western Rong.”
“The emperor was overjoyed and awarded the two swords in reward—one to the Ji heir Ji Yan, and the other to the Twelfth Prince, Yan Chang. He named them *Wuzai* (No Calamity) and *Quji* (Expel Illness), to wish the empire peace and health.”
Yu Jinnian paused his wrapping. He could tell now—Min Xuefei was recounting the sword’s origins.
“A worthy sword should follow a worthy master. These blades fought rebels, traitors, and criminals alike,” Min Xuefei continued, his voice thick with nostalgia. “In those days, the heroes were young, their swords howled in the western wind, and they tethered their horses at the high tower gates. How dashing they were.”
Yu Jinnian furrowed his brow. “Were they close?”
Min Xuefei shook his head. “More than close. They were nearly the same age. Ji Yan was appointed as the Twelfth Prince’s study companion from childhood. They grew up together—same ideals, same temperament. Inseparable. Ji Yan was free-spirited, fond of drink, sometimes passed out beneath willows by the river. Every tavern knew to report it to the Twelfth Prince’s estate—the first to do so got a hefty reward.”
Yu Jinnian looked puzzled. “But they don’t seem close now.”
“That’s because… two years before Ji Yan’s accident, they suddenly fell out.” Min Xuefei slowly placed *Wuzai* on the table and sighed. “No one knows why. One day they were friends, the next they wouldn’t even look at each other.”
Yu Jinnian narrowed his eyes. “Then what about the sword?”
Min Xuefei explained, “In the autumn of Jingyou’s first year, a group of Northern Di infiltrated the capital region and kidnapped the two Ji brothers who were out flower-viewing. Later, when they escaped the enemy camp and accidentally entered the snowy mountains, Ji Yan still had the sword with him. But when they were rescued—everyone swore that only Shuluan was found unconscious in the ice cave. No *Wuzai*. Just a short dagger.”
“The Ji family searched the entire snowy plain, every tribe, every pass near Beiyan. They even offered a massive reward at the black market for any lead on the sword. Nothing. It was presumed lost.”
Yu Jinnian frowned. “It’s not a stray dog or wild hare—it couldn’t have just walked off on its own.”
“Exactly,” Min Xuefei said, his brow tightening. “Which is why I believe… someone else reached Ji Yan before the Ji family did. Someone who took *Wuzai*, and chose not to help the two of them.”
Yu Jinnian rubbed his chin. “Could it have been a thief—someone who kept the sword for its value?”
Min Xuefei shook his head. “The cave was remote, deep in the snowfields. Even locals struggled to find it. And if it were about riches, why was nothing else missing? Their gold, their jade—all untouched. Only the sword vanished. Ji Hong never gave up on the search. He offered staggering sums for clues in the black market. But the sword seemed to vanish into thin air—until now.”
At that, Yu Jinnian’s expression shifted. The realization crept in, cold and visceral. He shot to his feet. “You’re saying the one who took the sword knew what *Wuzai* was. Knew Ji Yan. Knew *where* he was. If that’s true—then that person… is the real culprit!”
Min Xuefei lifted his eyes, clearly thinking, *Well, you’re not entirely slow after all.*
But it was only a theory—there was no hard proof.
“Heavens!” Yu Jinnian paced back and forth in the room. If that really were the case, then the person who took the *Wuzai* sword must have been utterly heartless—to see them and not save them, to leave them to freeze and starve, slowly dying. But thankfully, the sword had now returned, brought back by Jing Zhong. He *must* know something. As long as they could question him once he woke, the truth would finally come to light.
That thought was clearly shared by Min Xuefei. The two exchanged a glance and decided to head upstairs together to check on Jing Zhong’s condition.
They had just stepped toward the door when Shi Xing burst in, flustered and hurried. From the look of him, he’d originally been headed for Ji Hong’s room—but at the threshold, he abruptly remembered his master’s mind wasn’t quite right these days. He skidded to a stop and pivoted toward the side room instead, seeking Min Xuefei—the backup brain of the group—for help.
Yu Jinnian saw him and immediately asked, “What’s the panic? Did Jing Zhong wake up?!”
Shi Xing shook his head rapidly.
Min Xuefei asked, “Then what is it?”
Shi Xing gathered himself, took a deep breath, and reported solemnly, “Young Master Min—news from the north. The Northern Di have breached Beiyan Pass. They’ve already taken Yancheng!”
“What?!” Min Xuefei snapped to alertness. Beiyan Pass was a vital strategic defense in the north—the main gateway. Back in the day, Ji Gong himself had guarded this very pass, battling the Northern Di countless times. The catastrophe of Jingyou’s first year had stemmed from General Ji’s aggressive advance—pushing thirty li into enemy territory and nearly breaking the heart of the Northern Di’s lands. Driven into a corner, the Northern Di retaliated, setting in motion the chain of events that ultimately led to Ji Yan’s death.
That same incident had so enraged Ji Gong that he led a retaliatory strike straight into the Northern Di capital, wiping out their royal family and burning the city for three days and nights.
From that day forward, the Northern Di were thought extinct.
Min Xuefei frowned deeply. “What kind of Northern Di? Has it been confirmed?”
Shi Xing replied, “The army is led by someone calling himself Helo’a—claims to be a former Northern Di prince. According to our spies, he narrowly escaped the slaughter back then, fled with a few old retainers, and hid in a neighboring small state. For ten years he lived in obscurity, enduring hardships, secretly gathering power. Two years ago, he overthrew that kingdom’s royal line, crowned himself emperor, and revived the Northern Di nation. This invasion is under the banner of vengeance for his fallen kin—he’s already crushed Beiyan Pass and is advancing without restraint.”
Min Xuefei asked grimly, “What of the Marquis of Dingbei, the one stationed at the pass?”
Shi Xing hesitated. “Reports say… he’s gravely wounded. His fate is unknown.”
Min Xuefei could no longer hold his tongue. “That damn old fool!”