Xiao Cao nodded slightly, then watched them leave. Unknowingly, she fell into a daze again. A long while later, she snapped out of it, patting her face. Without washing up, the torn pieces of cloth she had previously ripped off weren’t discarded—they were wrapped around her waist. Now, soaking two pieces in water, she left the small courtyard, subconsciously closing the door behind.

Inside, Wei Jincheng and his attendant lay unconscious. The drug would last for twelve hours, and as for when they’d be moved to a more comfortable place to “sleep,” it would depend on when the fleeing attendants remembered them.

Walking down another deserted alley, Xiao Cao began to tidy herself up. She used the wet cloth to clean her face. Afterward, she patted away any dust that might fall from her clothes. Removing the “headscarf” on her head, she let down the part of her dress she had tucked up, hiding the dirty part inside. Although she couldn’t fully restore her appearance, she looked somewhat like a refined lady once again.

At the very least, when Wei Jincheng’s servant brushed past her, he didn’t recognize her.

Xiao Cao had just reached the back alley of a teahouse when a voice shouted, “Fourth Sister—”

Wenren Ying came running toward her, disregarding her own image. Behind her, her brother, Wenren Yang, was not far behind.

“Fourth Sister, where have you been?” Wenren Ying’s sharp voice was full of questioning, but her tear-reddened eyes betrayed her overwhelming concern and anxiety.

Xiao Cao quickly comforted them, repeatedly apologizing, “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. Don’t worry. I’m fine—everything’s fine.”

“Where exactly did Fourth Sister go?” Wenren Yang asked, clearly shaken when he realized his sister was missing.

“I encountered an unexpected situation and didn’t have time to tell you. I’ll explain everything when we get home. This isn’t a good place to talk.”

The siblings calmed down, but only then did they notice the subtle but peculiar changes in Xiao Cao’s appearance. Though subtle at first glance, upon closer inspection, the difference was glaring. To end up in this state, it must’ve been something serious. Their faces darkened, but with great consideration, they refrained from pressing further.

“Where is Elder Brother and Sister-in-law?” Xiao Cao asked.

“Elder Brother is still inside the teahouse looking for you, unsure of what happened. He didn’t dare alert anyone. As for Sister-in-law, she’s gone home—we couldn’t keep such a big incident from the family,” Wenren Ying replied.

“Then let’s hurry home. We shouldn’t let Mother and the others worry.”

“Yes. Fourth Sister, where are the maids who were with you?”

At the mention of this, Xiao Cao felt a tad guilty, “I hid them in the flower bushes. Once we get the carriage over to the back, they’ll still need some time to wake up.”

The two siblings exchanged a puzzled glance—what exactly did Fourth Sister do to end up knocking the maids unconscious?

At this point, Xiao Cao wasn’t in any shape to be seen in public. Wenren Yang went off to get Wenren Xu without alerting anyone else. When the carriage arrived, Xiao Cao and the maids were ushered into the vehicle, and how the story would unfold afterward would no longer be her worry.

Meanwhile, Wei Tingyu, not long after being carried away from the small courtyard by Jin Wenjie, weakly leaned against his back and whispered to make sure no clues were left behind that could lead back to Xuan’er. “Clean up well; don’t leave any trace that could be tied to Xuan’er.”

“Take care of yourself first. You’ve got just one breath left. If you go through this two more times, you won’t have to worry about anything because you’ll be sleeping in your grave. Tsk, your wife messed up the plan and all you got was suffering. How do you feel about that?” Jin Wenjie scoffed, clearly enjoying the misfortune.

Wei Tingyu closed his eyes, enduring the pain. “Ask that to Wei Jincheng,” he replied.

Jin Wenjie couldn’t help bursting into schadenfreude-laden laughter. Ah, the irony—it truly was a miserable situation. After the laughter faded, he noted, “I say, your wife is quite ruthless. Did you know that?”

Wei Tingyu remained silent, as still as if he had fainted. Truthfully, he didn’t really know. During the seven years they lived together, while he had seen her use a knife and reset bones, he hadn’t seen anything beyond that. However, he had never thought of his Xuan’er as ruthless. If anyone understood her, it was him. Even if she cut flesh or broke bones, it was all in pursuit of improving her medical skills to help people. As for techniques like muscle-separating or bone-shifting, she was a woman—a self-defense skill or two wasn’t a bad thing.

Jin Wenjie dropped the subject, knowing full well that in Wei Tingyu’s world, no matter what his wife did, she was always perfect, even if she became pure evil. He wouldn’t care how others treated him, but when it came to his wife, he would show no mercy and would fight to the death for her.

On their way back, they encountered Han Shi rushing towards the teahouse with a group of people. On the carriage, her reprimand stuck in her throat before collapsing into tears as she hugged Xiao Cao. She had truly been scared to death.

Having lost Xiao Cao once before, the joy of her return hadn’t fully settled. When Xiao Cao disappeared again, terror completely consumed her. This time, the overwhelming fear she felt was far worse than a decade ago. If something were to happen to Xiao Cao now, Han Shi probably wouldn’t survive it.

Xiao Cao held her mother’s trembling body, deeply feeling her mother’s overwhelming love and care. While comforting her and apologizing, she silently vowed that there would never be a next time.

After returning home and bathing, Han Shi stayed by Xiao Cao’s side the entire time, unwilling to step away. Clearly, her emotional state hadn’t fully recovered. Xiao Cao, however, felt no frustration and instead displayed the utmost patience.

It wasn’t until an hour later, when everyone gathered to inquire about what had happened, that they were finally able to sit down. By now, it was well past lunchtime, but they couldn’t even think about eating until they’d fully understood the events, lest it ruin their appetite.

Apart from the immediate family, only two of Han Shi’s trusted maids were present.

Xiao Cao didn’t hide much, except that she downplayed her more active involvement in the situation.

Even so, everyone was still on edge as they listened.

“You’ve got some nerve, girl! Did you ever consider what would happen if you got caught? Someone who could poison his own brother would surely show no mercy to someone who ruined his plans!” Han Shi snapped, too angry to contain herself.

Xiao Cao continuously admitted her wrongdoing, promising there wouldn’t be a next time, and pleaded for leniency.

But Han Shi wasn’t willing to let it go so easily. “Who the hell knows what kind of person this Wei Jincheng is? Your kindness has a limit! If it were up to me, even if you bumped into heaven’s emperor himself, you’d better act like you didn’t see a thing!”

“Mother, mind your words,” Wenren Xu reminded her cautiously from the side.

“Be quiet!” Han Shi scolded, enraged.

Understanding his mother was still fuming, Wenren Xu rubbed his nose and obediently zipped his lips. It’s just that his fourth sister was currently the darling of their mother’s heart; she wouldn’t dare to scold or beat her. But if he said anything, he had a feeling the blame would fall squarely on him. After all, in his mother’s eyes, daughters were precious gems, while sons were blades of grass. Compared to his younger brother, he was certainly the lowest blade of grass. Ah, the bitterness of it all…

Regardless of whether Wenren Xu’s grievance was real or exaggerated, one thing was certain—Wei Tingyu would surely leave a lasting impression on his mother-in-law. If they never crossed paths again, it would be fine. But since Wei Tingyu intended to win Xiao Cao back someday… well, facing Han Shi’s wrath, that was going to be an entirely different battle altogether.

Nearby, Wenren Yang was the quietest. This time, he didn’t zone out and, after Xiao Cao finally soothed Han Shi, he slowly began to speak: “That Yuan Qiyu and the second son of the Marquis of Pingyang’s household, they’re related, aren’t they?”

In contrast to Wenren Yang’s disinterest in outside matters, Wenren Xu was still working at the Hanlin Academy. Though he was preparing for an external assignment this year, and his time in the capital would be short — at most three months, at least one — this potential colleague or rival led him to investigate the background of notable figures. By the time of the metropolitan exam, he had already gathered information on the key individuals considered promising.

“Consort Shun and Second Young Master Wei’s birth mother were full sisters. Their mother’s surname was Yuan, and Yuan Qiyu comes from the Yuan family. Though the blood ties are not very close, it’s said that Yuan Qiyu has been smart since childhood. The Yuan family has raised him with an eye on connections, and he has also sought them out. Ever since Yuan Qiyu arrived in the capital, he has considered himself the nephew of Consort Shun’s mother. This man seems highly skilled in gaining favor. Take our situation earlier with Grand Prince Dun: Even if Yuan Qiyu has some minor flaws, his image in Prince Dun’s eyes isn’t bad at all — enough for the prince to personally vouch for him,” Wenren Xu explained carefully.

“Did the Prince really come to you when I wasn’t there?” Xiao Cao seemed baffled. Did princes from noble families have so little to do?

“You had barely left the private room when he arrived. While I didn’t ask directly, my guess is that the prince was with Second Young Master Wei and their target was Wei Shizi. That Yuan Qiyu issue was just a coincidence. After all, the conflict between our fourth brother and Yuan Qiyu was sudden, too quick to reach the Prince’s ears.”

“Wait a minute, why was Yang-er in a conflict with someone?” Han Shi asked.

“This was caused by me,” Xiao Cao started to reflect. It seemed like she’d made more than one mistake that day.

“It had nothing to do with Fourth Sister,” Wenren Ying interjected to clarify, before explaining the sequence of events to Han Shi.

After listening, Han Shi sneered coldly, “Quite the opportunist! So the Prince intervened to ask Yang-er not to care?”

“If this issue really blew up, forgetting Yuan Qiyu’s career, even the Prince’s reputation could be damaged. He didn’t say it outright, but his meaning was perfectly clear.” Wenren Xu had been in the bureaucratic world for a few years and understood the subtleties.

“Yang-er may have academic skills, but if he’d lost to that Yuan fellow, would they have let him go?” Han Shi’s anger had not yet subsided.

The room fell silent.

“Yang-er, what do you think?” Han Shi locked her gaze onto Wenren Yang.

“I was already planning to petition for an audience with the emperor. Even with the Prince’s involvement, I haven’t changed my mind. With Second Young Master Wei embroiled in this, there’s even more reason to proceed, right?” Wenren Yang unexpectedly responded, slowly meeting his mother’s gaze.

Wenren Xu, who had been drinking water, choked upon hearing these words. Was their family’s bookish brother, who was so well-behaved and never caused trouble, planning to initiate something so monumental?

Was this the so-called “silence before a thunderous strike”?

It seemed Wenren Xu hadn’t discerned the truth as clearly as Jing Wenjie. Perhaps being too involved had clouded his judgment. He’d long been deceived by his bookworm brother’s persona and failed to notice the sharp teeth beginning to show; instead of seeing a fierce wolf cub, he mistook him for a sweet little puppy.

Han Shi shot an annoyed glance at her eldest son before turning back to Wenren Yang. “Yang-er, have you thought this through? If you go through with this, you’ll be openly offending the Grand Prince Dun.” Yet, her tone contained no trace of blame.

“Xiao Si, you don’t have to go through with it,” Xiao Cao tried to dissuade him.

“Fourth Sister, I’m only eighteen. I’m at the age of youthful passion.” His voice was firm, steely, echoing with resolve.

As if laced with the bravado that only comes with youth.

“But it’s because of me…” Xiao Cao began, knowing her actions had led him down this path.

“That’s enough,” Han Shi cut her off abruptly. “Xuan-er, no need to worry about him. Your brother’s headed toward adulthood, ready to marry in a few months. He’ll have to make his own decisions and take responsibility for his actions. Let him do what he sees fit.”

Xiao Cao was speechless, shooting a helpless glance at Han Shi. Is there really a mother like you? If Father learned of this, wouldn’t he be furious?

Wenren Ying stood quietly to the side, opening her mouth as if to say something but ultimately staying silent. Her thoughts wandered, absent and distracted.

To be fair, Wenren Ying had every reason to be this way. After all, in her previous life, Grand Prince Dun had been the lucky one who ascended the throne after the death of his father, Emperor Xuanren. Yet, a few years later, Dun was also the unfortunate one who had his throne snatched away by his brothers.

Regarding the imperial succession, Dun didn’t have a huge advantage. Despite being older than Prince Heng, and second only to the deposed crown prince now titled Prince Duan, his personal abilities were quite average. Even his noble title hinted at this mediocrity. His backing from his maternal family wasn’t strong either, and he had few courtier supporters. Frankly, compared to him, the younger princes had stronger prospects.

How then did he obtain the throne? Rumors varied, but two theories were most prevalent.

The first was that Emperor Xuanren fell ill suddenly, throwing the imperial court into turmoil. This crisis was tightly kept under wraps. When he finally passed, he only summoned high-ranking ministers, yet, somehow, Prince Dun was also present — becoming the sole son at his deathbed, allowing him to seize the throne.

The second theory posited that with each prince cultivating his own faction, whoever took the throne would face immediate unrest. In such a scenario, selecting the weakest prince and allowing the ministers to support him, while the others balanced each other out, might stabilize the empire. In this sense, Dun had the advantage of being weak yet positioned for the long game.

Emperor Xuanren would live longer than expected, still virile and in power well into his 50s. Everyone assumed he’d remain emperor for another decade or two, creating a political stalemate and forcing his sons into a long-term battle.

Thus, none of the princes dared act impetuously, instead preparing for an extended contest.

Emperor Xuanren himself had never seemed overly concerned about the imperial succession. He was sharp, wise, and trusted his ministers, thus ruling efficiently without feeling the weight of the crown.

But an abrupt illness changed everything, dismantling carefully laid plans.

Had Prince Duan not been blinded and incapacitated, none of the other princes might stand a chance. But alas…

Now, who was to say that next year’s events couldn’t mirror the same sudden shift in fortune?

Even if Grand Prince Dun was destined to have his throne wrestled away by his brothers again, if he managed to wear the crown first, would he not easily punish the Wenren family for crossing him?