Wang Daxia thought he had managed to extract Ding Rukui's whereabouts by treating everyone to watermelon, but that wasn't actually the case.
He didn't realize he was already a rising star in the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Personally recruited by Lu Ying and "handpicked" by Commander Lu Bing, he was practically a "disciple of the emperor." With these two credentials alone, he could practically swagger through the Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters.
Coming from a good family, handsome, and approachable without the arrogance and airs of a favorite, he even dug into his own pocket to buy watermelons for everyone while inquiring about a death row prisoner.
Though occasionally clumsy, unreliable, and annoying in minor matters, he proved remarkably dependable in crucial situations—especially during that thunderstorm night when he ordered the guards to drop their shovels and forced the page to dig the grave barehanded. When a lightning bolt struck the shovels and killed the page, the guards felt that without Wang Daxia, the lightning might have struck them instead.
Later, it was also Wang Daxia who suggested taking shelter at Tian'an Temple and "requisitioned" amulets to distribute among everyone, not keeping them for himself. This naturally won the Embroidered Uniform Guard's goodwill. They saw him as the neighborhood "rascal"—troublesome but tolerable, and since he was only fourteen, his flaws could be excused as youthful immaturity.
Moreover, both Lu Bing and Lu Ying valued and nurtured him, treating him as a trusted subordinate from the start, granting him free access to the commander's courtyard. This young man was likely to become a prominent figure in the Embroidered Uniform Guard in the future.
Following the prevailing wind is human instinct.
Ding Rukui was a death row prisoner whom Lu Bing had personally instructed to "take good care of." Having survived a decade without execution, this was a minor secret within the Embroidered Uniform Guard. His whereabouts wouldn't be casually disclosed—even officials like Thousand Household Chen, a fourth-rank military officer, were unaware. But who could blame them when Wang Daxia was the trusted confidant of both Lu Bing and Lu Ying?
Thus, the Embroidered Uniform Guard was willing to do Wang Daxia a favor.
Wang Daxia, "unaware of his own popularity within the Embroidered Uniform Guard," was like begging on the streets while holding a golden bowl!
He also didn't know Ding Rukui's significant background, mistakenly attributing his success to the watermelons. Proudly, he returned to boast to Wei Caiwei:
"...They said this death row prisoner Ding Rukui is special. Lord Lu ordered that no outsiders may visit him in his cell without a written permit. But luckily for us, tonight Ding Rukui will be let out of prison to hold a memorial for the deceased in the courtyard. We can wait there to intercept him—that way, it won't be us seeking him out, but him coincidentally encountering us. Besides, we technically aren't visiting him in prison, so we aren't violating Lord Lu's orders."
Fortunately, Lu Bing had given the instruction before his stroke this morning. Otherwise, not even Wang Daxia—or even Lu Ying—could have brought Wei Caiwei to meet Ding Rukui in prison.
Wang Daxia even procured a set of low-ranking Embroidered Uniform Guard attire for Wei Caiwei. "Your mourning clothes are too conspicuous at night. We're taking advantage of Ding Rukui's memorial outing—we need to keep a low profile."
Wang Daxia's boldness and attention to detail reminded Wei Caiwei of the Eastern Depot Chief from her previous life.
Noticing Wei Caiwei staring at him intently, her eyes filled with emotion, Wang Daxia quickly crossed his arms defensively. "Don't even think about taking advantage of me! I'm saving my purity for my future wife—I'm not that kind of guy!"In truth, Wang Daxia wasn't entirely delusional—his intuition wasn't wrong: Wei Caiwei's constant verbal disdain and denial masked her genuine fondness for him—from their previous life. Yet now, though Wang Daxia's body remained unchanged, his soul had regressed by over thirty years, untouched by life's storms. With the slightest "carelessness" from Caiwei, her affections began to shift.
Wang Daxia was like a magnet, his magnetic field being the aura of the former Depot Director Wang. Wei Caiwei was a needle—no matter how deeply hidden, the moment the magnet emitted its pull, she'd be swiftly drawn to it, clinging firmly.
Resisting a lifetime of deep affection was impossible.
Damn! She'd lost control again.
Wei Caiwei quickly averted her gaze, coughing twice as she forced an excuse, "Don't misunderstand. The drug's effects haven't worn off yet—my mind gets dizzy and blank sometimes, and I just stare blankly at one spot. I was merely spacing out; you were in my eyes, not in my heart."
"Good." Wang Daxia uncrossed his arms from his chest. "Zhou Xiaoqi is truly vicious—he must have added some potent ingredient to the drug that knocked you out."
Caiwei brushed him off, "Leave. I need to change clothes."
After she changed into a soldier's disguise, Wang Daxia knocked from outside, "Finished changing?"
Smoothing the wrinkles in her clothes, Caiwei replied, "You can come in."
Wang Daxia entered, holding a thick, forked branch.
That afternoon, she'd seen him childishly crouching in the shade, plucking grass to tease ants. Now with this hefty stick—was he planning to tear off roof tiles?
Wang Daxia took out a handkerchief, wrapped it around the rough fork, tied a tight knot, and handed it to Caiwei. "This won't chafe your hand now—a walking stick, freshly cut from the tree. With this, you won't need my support."
On his first official day at the Imperial Guard Office, Wang Daxia had accomplished nothing but napping in the guest room and chopping this branch. Borrowing flowers to offer Buddha, he gifted it to Wei Caiwei as a crutch.
Caiwei took the crutch, its edges fully padded by the handkerchief, leaned on it to stand, and took a few steps.
The crutch was perfectly crafted—neither too long nor short, fitting her height as if custom-made.
Instantly, the halo of her dead husband from her past life shone upon the young Wang Daxia again. Her gaze spun around him like spider silk—countless threads of affection, tender and clinging, trapping him with no escape.
To Wang Daxia, this young widow's eyes always held hooks, tugging at his youthful heart until it throbbed like a frog's.
Clutching his chest, he struggled to suppress the frog within: Ah, I mustn't let myself fall like this.
Our statuses are worlds apart—it's impossible. I've told you countless times, stop obsessing over me madly. Why won't you listen?
I'm set to inherit the family's Thousand-Household Title; my future wife must be a noble lady.
If you keep looking at me like that, I'll... stop playing with you.
Wang Daxia declared, "I gave you the crutch because men and women shouldn't touch improperly, and it's awkward for me to support you. There's absolutely no other meaning—don't misunderstand."
Rebuffed sternly by her dead husband's righteous tone, Wei Caiwei swiftly withdrew her gaze, lowering it to the new crutch. "I'm not misunderstanding. Thank you. Once I recover, I'll make ten packs of Qingliang plums to repay you."Wang Daxia breathed a sigh of relief. "That's more like it."
Though he said this, why did he feel a faint disappointment in his heart?
Dusk had deepened, the clear moonlight casting a cold glow over the world. The evening breeze carried a faint scent of gardenia in the air.
Realizing Ding Rukui's night memorial was nearing its end, Wei Caiwei leaned on her crutch and stepped outside. Wang Daxia maintained a distance of two paces between them, walking alongside her through the air.
In the southeast corner of the training ground, Ding Rukui threw the last bundle of spirit money into the brazier to honor the loyal Wei Nanshan and his wife.
This family had served the Ding household for generations as domestic servants, originally of slave status. When it came to Ding Rukui's generation, he granted them freedom out of kindness. Wei Nanshan continued to serve the Ding family - such respectable servants were called house ministers.
From Minister of War to death row inmate, all his old friends, colleagues, and mentors had eventually abandoned him. Only the humble-born house minister remained steadfast till the end.
Ding Rukui silently prayed, then took out a thousand-word memorial essay he had carefully written throughout the day and burned it for the departed Wei Nanshan couple.
Back when he was Minister of War, many people offered thousands of taels and pulled various strings begging him to write memorial essays or epitaphs - the waiting list would stretch from New Year to year's end, and he might not even accept them.
Now his writings were only burned for loyal servants.
Having not seen daylight for ten years, even moonlight was a blessing. Ding Rukui threw the memorial essay into the brazier and looked up greedily at the moonlight.
The moonlight was truly beautiful.
Ding Rukui didn't even blink, engraving the outdoor scenery in his mind. These were beautiful memories. Even if his name was marked by the imperial brush at year's end and he was dragged to Caishikou for execution, it would be worth it.
"Uncle Ding."
A voice came from behind.
Ding Rukui turned to see two low-ranking Embroidered Uniform Guards. One of them leaned on a crutch, with delicate features and appearing rather unwell.
Searching his memories, Ding Rukui couldn't recall who they were.
Wei Caiwei said, "I am Wei Nanshan's adopted daughter, named Wei Caiwei. During the Gengxu Incident ten years ago, chaos broke out in the Beijing suburbs. I got separated from my family and was adopted by Wei Nanshan and his wife while wandering, eventually going to Tieling together. Ding Wu has been thinking of you constantly. When I came to Beijing, he asked me to relay a message - he's doing well, found work at the Tieling county office, can support himself and lives a peaceful life. Please don't worry about him."
Ding Rukui suddenly remembered Lu Bing's unexpected visit this morning, when he had asked about Wei Nanshan.
Lu Bing never spoke idly - his morning inquiries must have had some purpose.
Seeing Wei Caiwei wearing an Embroidered Uniform Guard's uniform, Ding Rukui remained skeptical. With no proof, Wei Nanshan and his wife dead, and his son Ding Wu far away in Tieling - unable to leave his place of exile even one step - who could verify Wei Caiwei's claims?
Having experienced the transition from Minister of War to death row inmate, Ding Rukui had witnessed all the fickleness of human relationships and couldn't be moved by Wei Caiwei's words alone.
Who was this woman really? What were her intentions? Dressed in an Embroidered Uniform Guard's uniform, appearing during his memorial for old friends - was she one of Lu Bing's people? Sent to test him?
After initial excitement, Ding Rukui calmed down. Ignoring Wei Caiwei, he said to the prison guards, "I've troubled you all to bring me up here tonight and help set up the altar. I've finished my memorial and can return now.""Uncle Ding, I truly am Ding Wu's friend." Wei Caiwei hurriedly hobbled after him on her crutch, but Ding Rukui remained cold. "Don't think you can use Ding Wu to threaten me. I'm a condemned prisoner. If you come closer, are you attempting a jailbreak?"
Once bitten, twice shy. Having once believed Yan Song's promise that "nothing will happen to you as long as I remain chief minister," only to end up with his wife dead, family scattered, and household destroyed, Ding Rukui dared not trust anyone again after such a bitter lesson.
A jailbreak would mean being shot on the spot. Wei Caiwei had no choice but to stop.
Ding Rukui followed the jailer away, the five-catty shackles dragging on the ground with a clattering sound.
Though Wei Caiwei's words failed to move Ding Rukui, they inexplicably stirred up a storm of jealousy in Wang Daxia, who fired off five rapid questions: "Who is Ding Wu? How old is he? Is he handsome? Is he better looking than me? What's your relationship with him?"
Author's Note: Thankfully the male lead isn't Ding Wu, otherwise this would turn into an Iron Ridge Ivory Mountain love story.
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