Chapter 8

The heavy burden that had weighed on Rong Tan’s heart at last lifted, leaving him with a warm glow that dispelled all his recent fears and anxieties.

He had imagined countless times how he would act if their secret were ever uncovered.

If Wu Ciyun were to show mercy out of their past relationship or because she appreciated his careful upbringing of the two children, it would be a rare stroke of luck—one he would strive to repay fully and never cause her trouble again.

But if she truly severed ties with him over Xiao Boming’s death, he had other means to fall back on. Still, he never wanted to risk their old bond unless absolutely necessary.

Yet, Wu Ciyun’s words today had taken him by surprise.

Rong Tan was overjoyed, so much so that he generously rewarded Liu Zhi with a substantial sum of silver. When Liu Zhi left the manor, he was beaming, convinced he had wisely chosen the right horse.

The gains to be made as the prison warden were indeed considerable, but Rong Tan’s generosity was extravagant—just a casual gift was enough to sustain him for a decade. People once said that Prince Pingnan’s heir, Xiao Boming, was generous; in Rong Tan’s eyes, he was no less so.

His thoughts were simpler: Rong Tan was merely a steward; thus, the money must have come from his master, Wu Ciyun.

However, why Wu Ciyun would suddenly give such a large sum to her steward was naturally intriguing.

Only a fool would risk offending Wu Ciyun’s new favorite for the sake of a former heir to Prince Pingnan who had long lost her favor.

Today had been a rollercoaster of grief and joy for Rong Tan, but with all worries now lifted, he felt a great sense of relief.

Lately, he often recalled the brutal scene of Xiao Boming’s death, awakening suddenly from nightmares in the dead of night.

Sometimes he dreamt of Xiao Boming’s resentful, unwilling eyes; sometimes of Wu Ciyun’s cold, composed face; and at times, he even dreamt that he was Xiao Boming trapped in a prison cell.

Raised since childhood to be upright and self-disciplined, this was his first time taking a life. Had he not experienced it himself, he might never have believed he could be so ruthless.

Yet, he never regretted what he did that day.

With Xiao Boming, he had reached his limit—he longed to tear him apart to vent his hatred.

Wu Ciyun was very busy, and they had little time together; each moment they shared was precious to Rong Tan.

But ever since Xiao Boming appeared, Wu Ciyun had devoted most of that rare time to him.

Rong Tan watched helplessly as the woman he loved spoke softly and patiently to that despicable man. Yet Xiao Boming was never satisfied; he even took the dagger Wu Ciyun had given as a token and flaunted it before Rong Tan.

Rong Tan’s feelings shifted from grievance to resentment, and then to overwhelming hatred.

He grew disgusted whenever Xiao Boming smiled flirtatiously at Wu Ciyun, irritated by the sweet scent of osmanthus wine on her clothes, and clenched his teeth upon hearing the words “Xiao Boming” or “Heir to Prince Pingnan.”

Recalling the blood-soaked floor of the prison, Rong Tan thought he should have been scared the first time he did such a thing.

But when he met Xiao Boming’s unyielding, dead eyes, his heart was filled only with satisfaction.

He even mused that since Xiao Boming liked to snatch his things, he might as well let him have it—let him experience just how sharp that dagger truly was.

“Steward Rong!”

A childlike voice snapped Rong Tan from his thoughts. He instinctively turned around to see Wu Mingzhu pulling Wu Liangyu breathlessly toward him, a faint smile blooming on his face.

The two had grown tired of their game of pitch-pot and must have caused a ruckus in the kitchen, their noses and cheeks dusted with flour.

Rong Tan bent down, carefully wiping them clean with a cloth, and gently asked, “Did you two make a mess in the kitchen again? It’s full of smoke and fire there; be careful not to get hurt.”

“We weren’t making a mess.”

Wu Mingzhu tugged at his sleeve, pouting. “Steward Rong, Granny Li said she’s making plum blossom soup cakes today and that we can’t touch them. Please go tell her we want to make them for Big Brother.”

Rong Tan was generally in charge of the household affairs, so the siblings were used to coming to him for help when they couldn’t solve something themselves.

He hadn’t expected this reason and chuckled softly, replying kindly, “Alright, but don’t run around in the kitchen or touch the knives and fire, okay?”

Hearing this, Wu Mingzhu and Wu Liangyu eagerly nodded and happily pulled Rong Tan toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was already busy enough; looking after two children made it more troublesome. But since Rong Tan had given the order, Granny Li couldn’t refuse and had to assign a careful maid to watch over them.

Whether the soup cakes would turn out well was secondary—they just hoped the little rascals wouldn’t get hurt.

Rong Tan shared the same concern and so didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and patiently helped the siblings cook.

After nearly an hour of bustling about, they finally brought a steaming bowl of plum blossom soup cakes to the evening meal.

“Big Brother, try it quickly. Sister and I made this with our own hands.”

Wu Liangyu presented the bowl proudly, eyes sparkling in anticipation of praise.

Wu Ciyun glanced at the plum blossom-shaped dough floating in the broth and smiled. “Who came up with this idea? It looks so exquisite; it must have taken quite some effort.”

“Granny Li said it’s plum blossom season now, and wealthy families in Ningzhou like to eat this. It’s said to be very elegant.”

Wu Mingzhu urged, “Big Brother, try it quickly before it gets cold.”

Wu Ciyun smiled at the urging. Though she had little appetite in her illness, she still graciously tasted half a bowl out of respect for her younger siblings.

Since her sickness began, Wu Mingzhu and Wu Liangyu had been deeply worried. Seeing her eat so little, they kept eagerly offering her food, fussing over her to a degree that even Rong Tan, usually in charge of serving her dishes, found it difficult to intervene.

Weak from illness, Wu Ciyun had eaten more than usual today. When she returned to her chamber, she felt bloated and hurried Rong Tan to prepare some Six Harmonies tea to aid digestion.

Rong Tan knew her habits well. By the time she finished bathing, the tea was perfectly warm and ready to drink.

Wu Ciyun’s illness was far from healed. Seeing her sip the tea slowly, Rong Tan worried and suggested, “Should we have the household physician come examine you? Don’t want your stomach to be harmed.”

“It’s nothing serious. Let’s not make a fuss.”

The physician sent by Chu Mingyi still resided in the manor. If they called the household doctor, it would surely alert the visitor and risk complications.

Wu Ciyun was well aware of the dangers of disguising herself as a man. In her youth, finances were tight, and to avoid suspicion, she bound her chest and spoke in a lowered voice, living in constant fear.

Later, she risked deceiving some powerful figures to obtain esoteric medicine. Though her breasts never shrank back, she grew taller and developed an Adam’s apple, her voice hoarser—allowing her to speak without constant apprehension.

The system had told her that a pulse diagnosis alone could not distinguish gender, but Wu Ciyun remained wary, especially since the physician sent by Chu Mingyi kept casting strange looks and insisted on re-examining her pulse several times.

Afraid he would discover her secret, she found an excuse to dismiss the troublesome man.

Thinking of that Liang dynasty physician, Wu Ciyun’s expression darkened slightly.

If he weren’t sent by Chu Mingyi, she would have found a way to silence him, to prevent future troubles.

Seeing Wu Ciyun so determined, Rong Tan refrained from pressing the matter and instead took a comb to gently smooth her damp hair.

As the saying goes, “Silky hair entwines fingers with softness.” When Rong Tan’s fingertips brushed against Wu Ciyun’s long hair, he paused, then instinctively recalled Liu Zhi’s words from earlier.

Wu Ciyun truly cared for him and was concerned about him; Xiao Boming and his ilk could not compare to her.

Rong Tan’s heart softened completely; in that moment, he felt as if they truly were a married couple.

But such sweet joy did not last long. Rong Tan’s gaze caught a neatly cut lock of hair, and his expression stiffened. “A Yun, this is…”

“Cut off by that mad dog Chu Mingyi.”

Wu Ciyun frowned at the memory and casually asked, “Do you know Chu Mingyi’s elder brother?”

“…No, I don’t. I’ve only heard that Chu Mingyi’s elder brother is named Chu Zhilin, the heir of Duke Zhen Guo of the Liang dynasty.”

Rong Tan pursed his lips, hesitating slightly. “Why do you suddenly ask?”

“Chu Mingyi went mad today and cut off a lock of my hair. He said that if I ever betrayed his brother, he would never let me go…”

“Impossible!”

Before Wu Ciyun could finish, Rong Tan abruptly interrupted her.

He rarely lost his temper so openly. Seeing this, Wu Ciyun was somewhat surprised and instinctively glanced at him.

Rong Tan realized too late his outburst and composed himself. “A Yun, Chu Mingyi must be lying.”

“Why?”

Wu Ciyun raised an eyebrow and retorted, “I don’t even know if I’ve met this Chu heir. You seem to know more than I do?”

“Chu Zhilin, heir to Duke Zhen Guo of Liang, was a fool before.”

“…What?”

Rong Tan’s expression grew complicated as he explained, “When Chu Zhilin was ten, he fell into water and had a high fever. After he recovered consciousness, he was mentally impaired. Despite the duke’s efforts to find the best doctors, Chu Zhilin remained like a child of five or six—until a year ago, when he accidentally fell from an artificial hill and suddenly returned to normal.”

Not only did he recover, but overnight he seemed possessed by a new spirit. Despite years of mental disability, his talent and knowledge were unmatched.

Rong Tan’s certainty that Chu Mingyi was lying rested on two points: first, Chu Zhilin had never left Liang capital, and Wu Ciyun had never left Sheng dynasty; they could never have met.

Second, Rong Tan had accompanied Wu Ciyun for almost a year and had never seen anyone else besides Xiao Boming. This further confirmed his belief.

Chu Mingyi cut a lock of Wu Ciyun’s hair and then deliberately lied, clearly intending to keep her for himself.

As the old saying goes, “Tied hair for a married couple, love and trust without suspicion.”

First, Xiao Boming died, and now there was Chu Mingyi.

This madman was utterly shameless.

Rong Tan’s hands trembled with anger, longing to seize a sword and stab Chu Mingyi to vent his fury.

Wu Ciyun, hearing Rong Tan’s words, seemed thoughtful. She looked at the furious Rong Tan and gently took his hand, smiling, “Maybe he only said that to threaten me. I’m not worried—why are you so anxious?”

Rong Tan wanted to argue, but Wu Ciyun’s cool fingertips traced along the back of his hand.

He saw her slowly rise; the distance between them narrowed. With a gentle push, he fell onto the couch.

“A Yun, the doctor said… your body hasn’t fully healed.”

Rong Tan still retained some reason, but the next moment Wu Ciyun cupped his cheek and pressed her lips to his, swimming into his heart like a fish in water.

Their breath mingled and intertwined. Rong Tan felt as if in a dream, forgetting what he wanted to say, instinctively pulling Wu Ciyun onto his lap. Their lips tangled, and their clothes became disheveled.

After a long while, Wu Ciyun parted from him, panting softly. Seeing Rong Tan’s shy averted gaze, she brushed delicate kisses across his cheek and asked softly, “Don’t like it?”

“No…”

Rong Tan’s ears burned red as he whispered, “I like it very much.”

Wu Ciyun rarely showed him such tenderness. Though sometimes overtaken by passion, her kisses were usually fierce bites of release, never as affectionate and gentle as today.

Forget Xiao Boming, forget Chu Mingyi—he had banished all irrelevant matters and people from his mind.

Now, the only one he saw was the person before him.

“A Yun, can we do it again…”

Rong Tan felt his heart overflow with love. He indulged in the moment, drawing near to seek another kiss.

Wu Ciyun did not refuse. Her lips brushed lightly against his ear as she whispered, “Rong Tan, who exactly are you?”