The Prime Minister’s Daughter and the Marquis’s Fool – Chapter 162
by Little PandaSheng’er Will Definitely Bring Third Brother Back
Last night, the main forces of the five-nation alliance had attacked. Qu Sheng arrayed her troops and waited at ease for the exhausted enemy1. She distributed meat rations to the soldiers, letting them eat their fill so they could rest early. As soon as night fell, Qu Sheng had bonfires lit to loudly celebrate Lunar New Year’s Eve and the coming New Year’s Day. Under this cover, she mobilized her main forces, seized strategic passes, and laid down ambushes.
Qu Sheng wielded Qu Ting’s light sword. She slaughtered countless enemy soldiers. Her silver armor ran scarlet with blood.
“If you do not surrender, this will be your fate!” Qu Sheng swung her blade. An enemy general’s head fell. The remaining enemy soldiers stared, utterly stunned. She swiftly spurred her horse forward, cutting down the hostiles before her one by one.
Guards trailed closely around Qu Sheng. Qian Shuangying was among them. They wove freely through the enemy ranks, leaving the ground carpeted with corpses wherever they passed.
Qu Sheng charged her horse deep into the enemy heartland. The goal of this battle was to cripple the main forces of the five-nation alliance and capture their commanding general alive.
When Qu Sheng’s banner breached the center of the enemy formation, Qu Jiqin, stationed at the highest mountain peak, ordered the command flags to signal the array’s core. Taking advantage of the Qu family’s unique ability to see clearly in the dark, the Tiansheng army hidden in the shadows launched a flanking assault upon Qu Jiqin’s command.
Qu Jiqin severed the enemy main force’s supply lines and reinforcements, allowing Qu Sheng’s troops to shatter their central defense line and capture the commanding general alive.
The five-nation alliance suffered catastrophic losses in this battle. Qu Jiqin wanted to pursue the routed troops, but Qu Sheng beat the gongs to order a retreat2. The fighting ceased, and both sides fell back to rest and reorganize.
Lunar New Year’s Eve passed, and New Year’s Day arrived.
Last night, the lights had stayed lit until late. In the morning, the little one sleeping beside Lin Xizhao, Qu Zhimu, was already awake. When Lin Xizhao turned her head to look, the little girl reached out and gently touched her cheek.
Lin Xizhao smiled, her expression tender. She leaned closer, pressed a kiss to Zhimu’s forehead, and picked her up to get out of bed.
“Wet Nurse Xu.”
Lin Xizhao stood by the bed, holding little Zhimu. Within moments, the wet nurse hurried in from outside. Lin Xizhao possessed a slender, graceful figure. Dressed in snow-white sleepwear that draped softly over her frame, cradling the delicate baby in her arms, she looked just like a fairy holding a celestial child.
As soon as the wet nurse entered, she smiled and praised Lin Xizhao. “Eldest Miss truly looks like a fairy descending to the mortal realm. With little Zhimu held in your arms like this, she looks just like a fairy child, too.”
Lin Xizhao handed Qu Zhimu over to her. Her eyes were warm. “Don’t make fun of me, Wet Nurse Xu. How could I compare to a fairy?”
“Our Eldest Miss is exactly a fairy, how could we say you just look like one?” A maid brought over Lin Xizhao’s dress, smiling as she walked.
Lin Xizhao shot her a playful, reproachful glance but didn’t truly scold her.
The morning routine proceeded smoothly. They brought in water basins, added charcoal to the braziers, and helped Lin Xizhao wash and dress. Once she was ready, the freshly dressed and tidied Qu Zhimu was placed back into her arms.
“Are Fourth Brother and Fourth Sister-in-law up?” Lin Xizhao asked as she bounced Qu Zhimu, playfully teasing the baby.
The wet nurse beamed. “They’re up. Just a moment ago, they sent word for us to wait for them to come over so you can all head to the front hall together.”
Lin Xizhao nodded with a soft murmur of agreement. Seeing little Zhimu looking so full of energy filled her with fondness. She leaned down and pressed another gentle kiss to the baby’s soft, chubby cheek.
Though the fireworks had been loud last night, they hadn’t startled the little one awake. She had a carefree heart—undoubtedly taking after Zhao Jiayu.
In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea3, Zhao Jiayu and Qu Yu came over.
Today was New Year’s Day, but Lin Xizhao had recently lost her father. Though Zhao Jiayu shared no blood relation with Lin Jianhai, out of respect for her relationship with Lin Xizhao, she hadn’t worn her usual bright reds or vibrant purples. Dressed in a new gown that was neither excessively plain nor overly flashy, she arrived at Lin Xizhao and Qu Sheng’s courtyard.
Lin Xizhao paused when she saw Zhao Jiayu, then smiled. It was rare for Zhao Jiayu to be so considerate.
The three of them took the child to the front hall.
Aside from the Qu family, the Jin family was also present. Qu Yu led Zhao Jiayu to offer their New Year greetings first, receiving lucky money4 from the elders. Next, Lin Xizhao stepped forward, holding Qu Zhimu, to pay her respects.
When Lin Xizhao stopped before the Jin family couple and curtsied, the Jin family’s Aunt pulled out a box and opened it in front of everyone.
Inside lay an exceptionally valuable jade bracelet.
“I noticed your wrists were bare before, so your Aunt thought to give you a bracelet. Today happens to be New Year’s Day, so consider it a New Year’s gift. Do not decline,” the Jin family’s Aunt said, lifting the bracelet from the box. “It’s not convenient with you holding the child. Let your Aunt put it on you.”
Lin Xizhao had wanted to refuse from the start, but the Jin family’s Aunt hadn’t finished speaking, and it wouldn’t have been polite to interrupt. Seeing the woman reaching out to slip it onto her wrist, Lin Xizhao subtly took a step back, holding little Zhimu closer. She lowered her head and spoke gently. “Thank you for your concern, Aunt. However, Xizhao is currently in mourning5 and dare not overstep the bounds of propriety. Aunt and Xizhao have only met a few times; I am truly ashamed to accept such a precious gift. I hope Aunt will take it back.”
Her response allowed Zhao Jiayu, who had been sitting to the side and anxiously watching the exchange, to breathe a sigh of relief. Who gives a jade bracelet when they are supposed to be handing out lucky money? This was clearly a calculated show of favor, or an attempt to use the gift to lock Lin Xizhao down for a betrothal.
The Jin family’s Aunt offered a stiff, awkward smile. “We are family. It isn’t anything too precious. Keep it to wear later. If you don’t accept it, it means you don’t treat me as family.”
Her words boxed Lin Xizhao into a corner. Refusing it now would make it seem as though she looked down on her.
“Xizhao-meimei, you should accept it. It is merely a token of my mother’s goodwill. The two boys loved the gifts you gave them yesterday. Consider this a return gift,” Jin Mingjun urged in a mild, persuasive tone, seeing her reluctance.
Lin Xizhao turned her head to look at him. Jin Mingjun met her gaze, his eyes brimming with an admiration he seemed entirely unbothered to hide from the rest of the room.
Lin Xizhao calmly withdrew her gaze. Yesterday, after returning to her courtyard, she had indeed instructed servants to deliver two items, but it was purely a superficial courtesy—they were not carefully selected gifts. After a brief pause, she addressed the Jin family’s Aunt. “The gifts for my two nephews were just minor trinkets. Aunt’s gift is far too precious. Forgive Xizhao for being unable to obey. Please do not be angry.”
Her refusal was resolute. The Jin family’s Aunt looked thoroughly embarrassed, and Jin Mingjun stood to the side, his lips pressed tightly together.
As the standoff dragged on, Zhao Jiayu stood up. “Aunt is so biased. I also gave gifts to my two nephews, so why don’t I get such a pretty bracelet? Are we not family?”
If one were calculating by blood, Qu Yu was far closer kin to the Jin family than they were.
The question only deepened the Jin family’s Aunt’s embarrassment. Caught in the middle, Lin Xizhao was just trying to think of an excuse to leave when Qu Zhimu suddenly began to wail in her arms.
Seeing this, Zhao Jiayu hurried forward. “She must not have slept well last night. Why don’t you take her back to rest first?”
Lin Xizhao glanced at Zhimu, who had started crying without any warning, and nodded. She offered a brief, simple curtsy to the room and departed.
Not long after Lin Xizhao returned to her courtyard, Zhao Jiayu arrived. She watched the panicked Zhao Jiayu rush through the door and immediately lift Qu Zhimu’s clothes. Only when the fabric was pulled back did Lin Xizhao realize—Zhao Jiayu had pinched Zhimu to help her escape the situation…
Fortunately, it was only a small red mark, without any bruising.
“I’m sorry, okay? Mother was wrong. When you grow up, Mother will let you pinch her back.” Tears welled in Zhao Jiayu’s eyes from the heartache.
Her words had cornered the Jin family’s Aunt, but looking at their posture, that family had fully intended to wait for Lin Xizhao to accept the bracelet so they could broach the topic of a marriage arrangement. How could she let Lin Xizhao endure that kind of humiliation? In a moment of desperation, she had pinched Qu Zhimu.
Lin Xizhao felt a wave of helplessness, though thankfully the little girl had stopped crying the moment they stepped outside the hall. Her own heart ached just looking at it. She gently blew on the red mark over and over, then coaxed Zhimu back into a playful mood.
“That black-hearted old woman is up to no good. Best if we don’t see them again after today,” Zhao Jiayu declared with certainty.
Lin Xizhao nodded. “Mm.”
She couldn’t go to the Lin Residence. Here, the Jin family wouldn’t dare act too presumptuously. At the very least, they wouldn’t dare barge into her and Qu Sheng’s courtyard without permission. But if she went to the Lin Residence, the Jin family’s Aunt would likely show up at her door and force her way inside.
After mulling it over, Lin Xizhao realized her only option was to stay confined to her courtyard. As long as she didn’t go out to see them, she would be fine. The Jin family had already celebrated Lunar New Year’s Eve here; presumably, they would be heading back to Lingyi soon.
When it was time for breakfast, Lin Xizhao sent a servant to inform Jin Yunfei that little Zhimu had been crying terribly, and they would not be joining the morning meal.
The Lin Residence’s small courtyard in the Capital City.
Fireworks had filled the sky above the capital last night. Today, as the sun began to rise, the sky was a crisp, brilliant blue. A maid quietly pushed the door open in the morning light to add charcoal to the fire. The two people in the room were still fast asleep.
Jin Mingyi had gotten drunk yesterday and hadn’t taken any sobering soup. When she woke up, her head was splitting. Before she even opened her eyes, she clutched her head and groaned hoarsely, “Ming’an, my head hurts…”
Zhu Ming’an had actually been awake for quite some time. She was curled up under the blankets, feigning a deep sleep, her eyes wide open but stubbornly refusing to respond.
Jin Mingyi called out a few more times. When Zhu Ming’an didn’t come over to rub her temples, she grew irritated and slowly forced her eyes open. The sunlight streaming in from outside was harsh. Jin Mingyi raised a hand to block the glare.
But the moment she lifted her arm, she realized that beneath the blankets, she didn’t seem to be wearing a single thing.
Jin Mingyi glanced down under the covers. At first, she was fine, but a frown slowly crept onto her face. As the fog of sleep cleared and she tried to piece together last night, the memory of her own reckless absurdity began to surface.
She whipped her head toward Zhu Ming’an and reached out, violently shaking her ‘awake.’
Zhu Ming’an pretended to have just roused. She looked at Jin Mingyi with sleep-heavy eyes, only to be met with a sudden, jarring question: “What did we do last night?”
Zhu Ming’an wanted to play dumb, but seeing Jin Mingyi’s panicked expression, she had no choice but to lower her head. “You… last night, you were drunk. We—”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Jin Mingyi instantly cut her off. She moved to throw off the covers and get out of bed, only to remember she was completely bare.
She looked at Zhu Ming’an, who had her head drooping, watching her with the guilty look of a thief. “You go out first,” Jin Mingyi ordered.
Zhu Ming’an looked up, utterly bewildered.
Shouldn’t she scold her first? Or hit her? Why was she telling her to go outside?
She stared blankly for a few seconds before Jin Mingyi urged her again. “Hurry up.”
“Oh. Oh.” Though utterly confused, Zhu Ming’an scrambled out of bed at the second prompt and left the room.
Zhu Ming’an sat in the outer room, listening to the rustle of clothing from inside. A moment later, Jin Mingyi walked out.
“Go get dressed,” Jin Mingyi said, her expression remarkably normal, ordering Zhu Ming’an to go back inside and put her outer robes on.
Zhu Ming’an’s confusion deepened, but she obediently went into the inner room, put on her outer robes, and returned.
Seeing her come out, Jin Mingyi stepped right up to her, tilted her head back to look her in the eye, and said, “We’ve already gone this far. Tell me, what do you suggest we do about it?”
“I… I…” Zhu Ming’an didn’t quite grasp what Jin Mingyi meant.
“Say something. Last night was my fault. I shouldn’t have pulled you in, but you should have refused, shouldn’t you?” Jin Mingyi was filled with remorse just thinking about it. How had she actively thrown herself into the wolf’s mouth?
“Then… then tell me. What should we do?”
“I’m the one asking you,” Jin Mingyi snapped.
She hadn’t been this sluggish when they were discussing business. Why was she hesitating so uselessly now that she needed her to make a decision?
“I… I apologize,” Zhu Ming’an said, lowering her head.
“That’s it?” Jin Mingyi’s frown deepened sharply. “We already went all the way, and you think an apology is enough?”
Zhu Ming’an looked up, genuine confusion written across her face. They hadn’t really done anything last night. She certainly wanted to marry her, but would Jin Mingyi even agree to it?
“Then what… do, do, do you want to do?” Zhu Ming’an asked, utterly baffled.
“We were like this in bed last night.” Jin Mingyi clenched her fists, brought them close, and hooked her two thumbs together6. “And you think an apology is enough? You don’t want to take responsibility?”
Zhu Ming’an was completely lost in the fog, but she quickly grasped the implication of Jin Mingyi’s gesture. “I… I will inform my father, and my mother. So… so, are you willing to, to marry me?”
“You’re marrying me!” Jin Mingyi stood up abruptly. “Don’t think just because I yielded my body to you first that I have to be the one to marry you! Once I report this to my father and mother, we’ll—” The moment the thought of her parents finding out she liked a woman crossed her mind, Jin Mingyi snapped fully awake. She hastily waved her hands. “No, no, that won’t work.”
“What’s, wrong?” Zhu Ming’an tilted her head, trying to look at Jin Mingyi, who had turned her back.
Jin Mingyi stood facing away, her mind racing, her face a picture of absolute regret a moment later. How could she have been the one to seduce her? She knew perfectly well that Zhu Ming’an liked her. Wasn’t that just a sheep offering itself to the tiger?
By now, Zhu Ming’an had realized that Jin Mingyi had completely misunderstood what had happened between them last night. While it was true that Jin Mingyi had been the one to initiate and pull her in, within moments, Jin Mingyi had stopped moving entirely and fallen dead asleep.
Zhu Ming’an had taken her clothes off, yes, but she wasn’t bold enough to claim her body without her explicit permission.
That being said… she had kissed the places she had fantasized about for so long. She had touched her, too. The sensation of it still made her heart melt into a puddle every time she recalled it…
But all of that had happened before Jin Mingyi fell deeply asleep. She figured Jin Mingyi had overthought the situation and leapt to the wrong conclusion.
Seeing the panic on Jin Mingyi’s face, Zhu Ming’an parted her lips, wanting to clarify the misunderstanding. But she was only halfway through opening her mouth when Jin Mingyi whirled back around and glared at her, forcing the words right back down her throat.
“You are not allowed to look at other girls from now on!” Jin Mingyi unexpectedly threatened.
Zhu Ming’an was somewhat bewildered. She liked women, yes, but it wasn’t as though she just liked anyone. And ever since she and Jin Mingyi had shared that first kiss, when had she ever spared a second glance for another girl?
“Rest, rest assured. I won’t,” Zhu Ming’an replied. Though she felt Jin Mingyi’s demand was unnecessary, she agreed to it entirely.
Seeing Zhu Ming’an yield to her on everything, Jin Mingyi still worried about the future, but the urge to stake her claim had taken hold.
She couldn’t control what Zhu Ming’an had done in the past, but things were different now. They had shared skin-to-skin intimacy; she would not allow Zhu Ming’an to harbor wandering thoughts. She wasn’t some sheltered young miss raised in a high pavilion who valued her chastity over her life. She didn’t view her reputation so heavily that she would seek death or dissolve into helpless panic upon losing her virginity. But there were certain deeply ingrained mindsets she couldn’t simply discard—and because of that, she had firmly committed herself to Zhu Ming’an.
If it had been anyone other than Zhu Ming’an, she would have already resorted to murder and cleaved the scoundrel’s head in two.
Zhu Ming’an stood there for a long time, watching Jin Mingyi stare at the floor, wondering what was going through her mind. Suddenly, Jin Mingyi lifted her head, rubbed her stomach, and said, “I’m hungry.”
Zhu Ming’an blinked, then a smile quickly spread across her face. “I, I’ll have someone make, make food right away.”
She hurriedly opened the door and ran out to instruct the servants to prepare a meal.
Two days later.
Since Lin Xizhao had resolved not to leave her courtyard, the Jin family had stayed quiet for the first two days. By the third day, however, they sent two young children to her door.
Feng Qi stood at the courtyard gate, blocking the children’s path. His sheer presence terrified the two boys into tears, but the maid accompanying them scolded Feng Qi fiercely right there at the entrance.
Feng Qi merely shot her a cold glare. The maid fled in terror, leaving the two children standing exactly where they were, crying as if their hearts were breaking.
Hearing the commotion, Lin Xizhao handed Qu Zhimu over to the wet nurse and stepped outside, only to find two children weeping like tearful statues.
Lin Xizhao was soft-hearted. After hearing Feng Qi’s explanation, she had initially intended to send the children back, but they were crying so miserably that she had no choice but to bring them inside first.
Once in the room, the two children repeatedly called her “Eldest Aunt” in such sweet voices that Lin Xizhao didn’t have the heart to drive them away.
She wiped their faces and had a servant bring them the pastries from the table to eat.
They were the Jin family’s children. The older one was six or seven, and the younger was only three or four. Both were quite handsome and remarkably well-behaved.
Lin Xizhao played with them for a while before instructing the servants to escort them back.
“Can we come play with Eldest Aunt tomorrow?” Jin Mingjun’s youngest son turned back at the door, asking in a crisp, clear voice.
Lin Xizhao had wanted to refuse, but seeing the child’s pure, innocent expression, her eyes curved softly. “Of course you can,” she said gently.
“Then my brother and I will come find Eldest Aunt and the little sister to play tomorrow,” the boy said with a bright smile.
Lin Xizhao smiled again and gave the servants a few instructions before seeing them off.
The Northern Frontier.
On Lunar New Year’s Eve, Qu Sheng deployed her troops and lay in wait. On New Year’s Day, they secured a sweeping victory. Qu Sheng beat the gongs to order a retreat, allowing the army to rest and regroup. A few days later, the Chemu Tribe dispatched an envoy seeking to exchange a hostage for the commanding general Qu Sheng had captured alive. Their bargaining chip was Qu Ting.
When Qian Shuangying heard that Qu Ting was still alive, she was already speaking in incoherent, joyful stammers by the time she saw Qu Sheng.
Watching the continuous stream of tears spill from Qian Shuangying’s eyes, Qu Sheng comforted her. “Third Sister-in-law, rest assured. Sheng’er will definitely bring Third Brother back.”
The captured enemy commander was none other than the heir to the Chemu Tribe’s throne. Qu Sheng had captured him alive specifically to force the Chemu Tribe to offer up a vital hostage.
And that hostage was Qu Ting.
When Qu Sheng had first seen Qu Ting’s sword returned by the enemy, she had already guessed it was highly likely he was still alive.
The enemy had merely released rumors or offered up items; this hadn’t been enough to make Qu Sheng absolutely certain of Qu Ting’s survival.
Every time the Chemu Tribe tried to use Qu Ting as leverage, Qu Sheng deduced that they believed his life was critical to Tiansheng. They were saving him for a crucial moment to threaten them. That was why, when she received his sword, she hadn’t been the least bit worried that the enemy would execute a living Qu Ting, and had therefore launched a ferocious counterattack.
During the engagement a few days ago, when she heard the commander was a Chemu prince, Qu Sheng instantly issued the order to capture him alive. If Qu Ting was still breathing, the Chemu Tribe would inevitably bring him out for an exchange.
Listening to Qu Sheng’s explanation, Qian Shuangying nodded repeatedly. Qu Sheng led troops like a god of war; Qian Shuangying believed every word she said without a shadow of a doubt.
After settling her down, Qu Sheng went to see Qu Jinian.
Qu Jinian had been unconscious for far too long. The Northern Frontier was truly no place to recuperate from an illness. Qu Sheng had decided to secretly send him back to Shoulin. However, while the people around her were trustworthy, they weren’t blood relatives.
After much deliberation, Qu Sheng decided to have Qian Shuangying lead an escort to take him back. For now, they only had to wait to get Qu Ting back, and then the couple could return to Shoulin together.
The hostage exchange was set for three days later.
The Capital City, Qu Residence.
Lin Xizhao had just sent the servants to escort the Jin family’s two children back when she received a letter from the Northern Frontier. Upon opening it, the first thing she saw was Qu Sheng’s handwriting. Before she even had time to read through Qu Sheng’s expressions of longing, she pulled out the enclosed prescription and handed it to a servant to have it filled.
As the servant hurried out the door, he nearly collided with Zhao Jiayu.
Zhao Jiayu had just heard that the two little Jin brats had come over again, and she had come to see if the Jin family was deliberately pulling strings behind the scenes.
“Slow down. What’s the rush?” Zhao Jiayu asked as she sidestepped the servant’s path and walked inside.
Hearing Zhao Jiayu’s voice, Lin Xizhao turned around. She glanced at the servant, who had frozen in place, and said, “Go on. Make sure the doctor makes the medicine into sugar pills.”
“Yes, this servant remembers.”
The servant bowed and left. Lin Xizhao turned to Zhao Jiayu, whose face was full of confusion, and her expression grew slightly grave.
“Why are you sending for a doctor? Are you feeling unwell?” Zhao Jiayu asked with concern.
Little Zhimu was currently taking her afternoon nap. Lin Xizhao glanced toward the door of the inner room, then looked back at Zhao Jiayu. She had thought long and hard about the illness Qu Zhimu carried from the womb. It was time to tell her.
Liu Wuxiang had said that Qu Zhimu’s current condition was an incredible stroke of luck—it was vastly better than his initial estimation that she would suffer severe brain damage and become intellectually disabled.
“It’s a prescription Doctor Liu wrote for Zhimu,” Lin Xizhao said softly.
Zhao Jiayu blinked, utterly bewildered. “Why does she need a prescription? Is Zhimu sick?”
Lin Xizhao met her gaze, watching Zhao Jiayu try to suppress the rising panic in her chest. “Lately, Zhimu has been throwing a lot of tantrums. It isn’t because she has a bad temper. It’s because her body is being eroded by toxins.”
“What do you mean?” Zhao Jiayu stared at Lin Xizhao blankly, her heartbeat suddenly accelerating.
Lin Xizhao lowered her eyes for a moment before explaining. “When you were pregnant with Zhimu, you were poisoned. She carried some of that poison in her body.”
“Didn’t Doctor Liu say she was fine?” Zhao Jiayu found it hard to believe.
“She is mostly fine. There’s just a slight residue of the toxin that has caused mild damage to Zhimu’s brain, which makes her irritable or causes her to withdraw into her own world for short periods. But don’t worry too much. Doctor Liu has provided a prescription. We will have her take it and observe the results,” Lin Xizhao explained carefully.
Listening to her, Zhao Jiayu lowered her head, seemingly struggling to accept the truth.
“Then… then can it be cured?” Zhao Jiayu suddenly looked up after a long silence.
Lin Xizhao wasn’t entirely certain herself, but Qu Sheng had mentioned in her letter that she shouldn’t worry. When Liu Wuxiang had written the prescription, he hadn’t seemed rushed at all and even had the leisure to chat idly with her. He likely felt confident in the treatment.
“Doctor Liu says to take the medicine for twenty days first and observe. Because Zhimu is still young, if we intervene with medicine now, the chances of a full cure are very high.”
Hearing this, Zhao Jiayu finally understood. Before, her daughter had constantly thrown tantrums for no reason and sometimes completely ignored people. She had thought it was just a quirk of her personality. It turned out it was because of her.
Zhao Jiayu was consumed by guilt. If she had been more vigilant back then, her daughter wouldn’t have to suffer like this now.
Lin Xizhao reached out and gently patted Zhao Jiayu’s slender shoulder, comforting her. “Don’t worry anymore. I will take good care of her.”
Zhao Jiayu pressed her lips together and nodded, her eyes brimming with gratitude.
The next morning, Lin Xizhao was still feeding Qu Zhimu when the sound of children crying rang out from outside again. Having heard it once before, Lin Xizhao immediately knew it was the Jin family’s two children on the second occurrence.
Lin Xizhao hurried outside, where Feng Qi was blocking the children from entering.
“Eldest Miss.” Feng Qi had one child dangling from each hand, preparing to haul them both out to the front courtyard.
“Eldest Aunt.” The younger one was already crying so hard he was practically made of tears, while the older one squeezed out a few drops. Seeing Lin Xizhao approach, they called out to her in pitiful, aggrieved voices.
“Put them down quickly,” Lin Xizhao said. She was always the weakest against crying children. Even though the older one was six or seven, he was still just a child in the end.
When she first met Qu Sheng, Qu Sheng had been around this age, too. Though back then, Qu Sheng had seemed far more mature than her peers.
Footnotes
- An idiom from the Thirty-Six Stratagems (yǐ yì dài láo), meaning to conserve one's own strength while waiting for the enemy to exhaust themselves with a long journey or drawn-out offensive.
- A traditional Chinese military command (míng jīn shōu bīng), literally meaning 'to beat the gong to withdraw troops.'
- A traditional Chinese unit of time measurement, referring to the time it takes to brew and drink a cup of hot tea—roughly 10 to 15 minutes.
- Known as yāsuìqián, this is 'lucky money' traditionally given to children and unmarried juniors by elders during the Lunar New Year, usually in red envelopes, to ward off evil spirits and bring blessings.
- Traditionally, individuals in mourning for a parent wear plain clothing and abstain from wearing bright colors, cosmetics, or fine jewelry as a sign of filial piety and grief.
- Hooking two thumbs together and bending them is a traditional Chinese folk gesture used to silently indicate a romantic or sexual union.
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