Blossom

To its east lay a small river running north to south, while to the west were fertile fields at a slightly lower elevation. During dry spells, water could be diverted from the river for irrigation. But in floods like this, digging an opening at the southern end would allow the accumulated water to flow naturally into the Lang family's farmstead.

"We can't dig an opening," said Dou Zhao, recalling what she had seen on her way here. "The entire Zhen Ding region has become a waterlogged marsh. Digging an opening wouldn’t solve anything, and cutting off another family’s livelihood is unkind—it could easily spark a dispute. 'A close neighbor is better than a distant relative.' Our fields have bordered the Lang family’s for years without conflict. We shouldn’t give them reason to curse us behind our backs over this."

Those gathered here were all respected elders of the village, experienced in farming. Initially, they had worried that Dou Zhao, being young, might force them to dig an opening or rush to salvage the winter wheat just to report back to her grandmother. Hearing her words now, they collectively sighed in relief.

The winter wheat was undoubtedly a total loss. The focus now was on damage control.

The elders silently watched Dou Zhao.

Understanding their concerns, she said, "Before I left, Consort Cui repeatedly reminded me that all of you have been skilled farmers under her care for over a decade. Regardless of when the rain stops or whether we can replant in time, this year’s rent is waived. Please pass this message to every household—there’s no need to worry too much."

Their expressions softened immediately, and they began praising Consort Cui for her compassion and Dou Zhao for her kindness, offering endless words of gratitude.

Seeing that it was getting late, Dou Zhao signaled the end of the meeting by serving tea.

Chen Qushui hurried in. "Fourth Miss, news has arrived from the Capital. The Emperor has issued an edict appointing Liang Jifang as the new Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet."

Dou Zhao was momentarily taken aback.

She vaguely remembered this man.

After the Liao Wang’s palace coup, he had dashed himself to death in the throne hall.

At the time, she had been merely a woman confined to the inner quarters, preoccupied with household matters. When she later heard about the incident, she had only sighed in passing, knowing little about him.

But for someone to choose death in the throne hall—he must have been a man of unyielding integrity.

She invited Chen Qushui to sit.

Chen Qushui sighed. "Who would have guessed he’d end up as Grand Secretary? This is truly an upset—no one saw it coming."

"What’s his background?" Dou Zhao asked.

If he had any connection to her fifth uncle, the latter’s chances of entering the Grand Secretariat would significantly improve.

Chen Qushui replied with a hint of melancholy, "He was a Presented Scholar in the Renchen year, and after becoming a Bachelor of the Imperial Academy, he trained in the Ministry of Justice. Step by step, he climbed from a minor position to Vice Minister of Justice. He was a protégé of Pan Tuchang, the former Left Censor-in-Chief of the Metropolitan Censorate. Pan Tuchang and Ye Shipei were at odds. When Zeng Yifen was forced into retirement by Ye Shipei, to spite him, Zeng pushed Liang Jifang into the Grand Secretariat. Liang knew his place—though he served in the Grand Secretariat for over a decade, he was always meek, never voicing strong opinions. His appointment now is only because Ye Shipei is aging, while Yao Shizhong and Dai Jian are locked in a bitter feud that displeased the Emperor. So the Emperor simply made Liang Jifang Grand Secretary." He sighed deeply. "Such is the whims of fate."

Dou Zhao’s mind stirred with thoughts.Liang Jifang was a Presented Scholar from the Renchen examination cycle. Calculating his age, he should be in his fifties or sixties now. Chen Qushui was about the same age, yet while Chen had fallen into hardship and become her adviser, Liang Jifang had risen to the esteemed position of Chief Grand Secretary. How could Chen not feel deeply moved by this!

Thinking of this, she wanted to offer Chen Qushui some comfort.

"I don’t think it’s necessarily the case!" Dou Zhao raised an eyebrow and said, "I can’t speak for others, but let’s take the people you mentioned—Ye Shipei goes without saying. The fact that he could force Zeng Yifen into retirement shows his extraordinary tactics and strategies. Dai Jian has Wang Yuan’s backing, yet Yao Shizhong can hold his own against him, proving he’s no ordinary man either. With so many formidable figures under Liang Li’s command, whether he can keep them in check is another matter altogether."

Chen Qushui’s expression visibly brightened upon hearing this.

Dou Zhao smiled faintly.

After exchanging a few more casual remarks, Chen Qushui took his leave. Su Xin checked the gatehouse, while Su Lan lit mosquito-repelling mugwort incense in the room. Gan Lu drew the bed curtains and attended to Dou Zhao as she settled in for the night.

The rain grew heavier, pouring down as if the heavens had overturned a basin of water.

Lying in bed, Dou Zhao felt an illusion of being adrift in a small boat.

Her thoughts turned to Ji Yong, and sleep eluded her.

Could he really be that Master Yuantong?

Yet deep down, she felt that someone as brilliantly talented as him couldn’t possibly be an unknown figure unless he chose to be... Most likely, he was indeed the very Master Yuantong whom even Wang Yuan treated with deference!

But why would he become a monk?

A man as arrogant, self-important, and even somewhat audacious as him couldn’t have been forced into monastic life.

Did he truly love Buddhist teachings? Or... she thought of Master Yuantong’s...

If Ji Yong really was Master Yuantong, he was absolutely the type to do such a thing!

The thought left her with an indescribable feeling, and she tossed restlessly under the covers.

A faint noise came from outside.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Ever since her abduction by Pang Kunbai, Dou Zhao had become acutely sensitive to such things—had Pang Kunbai not been greedy for both her and her wealth, she would never have escaped unscathed.

"Su Xin!" She sat up and lifted the bed curtain. "Go and check—I think I heard something!"

Su Xin had heard it too, so by the time Dou Zhao called out, she had already shaken Su Lan awake beside her. Before Dou Zhao could finish speaking, she was throwing on her clothes.

"Don’t worry, Miss," she reassured Dou Zhao. "I’ll go see right away."

Dou Zhao nodded.

Su Lan sat by the bed, yawning. "Miss, with Uncle Duan and Brother Chen around, nothing will happen."

No sooner had she spoken than Su Xin returned. "Miss, it’s someone seeking lodging."

"Lodging at this hour?" Dou Zhao frowned, glancing at the hourglass on the long table. "How many are there? What do they do?"

Su Xin hesitated. "A young gentleman, claiming to be a merchant, accompanied by an accountant and four or five attendants..."

As she spoke, Dou Zhao thought she heard the cry of an infant.

A chill ran down her spine. "What was that sound?" Her voice was tense.

For a time, Dou Zhao had often heard the inexplicable cries of a baby. It wasn’t until she gave birth to Yin Jie’er and devoted all her attention to her daughter that the phantom wailing finally ceased.In Su Xin's heart, Dou Zhao was always calm, rational, resilient, and tenacious—graceful and composed no matter the circumstances. She had never seen Dou Zhao like this before, resembling a frightened child, her face filled with terror.

She quickly embraced Dou Zhao, her voice softening involuntarily: "It's that young master. He brought an infant in swaddling clothes, claiming it was his younger half-brother. Their concubine mother passed away, and he was sent by his father to escort the child home on his way."

Dou Zhao immediately regained her composure. She straightened up, thought for a moment, and said, "Help me dress. I’ll go take a look."

Su Xin hesitated slightly.

Dou Zhao sensed it at once.

Her voice turned grave. "What’s wrong?"

After a brief pause, Su Xin replied, "Uncle Duan said that although the young master appears youthful, his steps are light, his demeanor poised yet firm, and his movements as fluid as a mountain stream. Clearly, he has trained in some extraordinary martial arts. The guards accompanying him seem ordinary at first glance, but each is steady and restrained, disciplined in their movements. Even in this torrential rain, they show no sign of disarray. One of them, in particular, is like a sword sheathed in its scabbard—a single glance from his piercing eyes reveals a chilling aura of lethality. He is undoubtedly a top-tier expert. Someone like him could easily serve as a drillmaster in the Capital’s Imperial Army—why would he stoop to being a mere guard for another family? And then there’s the infant, not even a hundred days old, unable to lift its head, yet traveling far with its brother. Wouldn’t their family fear the child might not survive the journey? As for the wet nurse accompanying them, she’s no more than eighteen or nineteen, with fair skin and delicate hands—clearly someone who has never done hard labor. Their attire may seem plain, but their bearing betrays them. There’s something strange about them everywhere. Uncle Duan advised us to be cautious, keep the gates closed, and avoid unnecessary movement. Tonight, he and Brother Chen will personally keep watch."

Dou Zhao’s expression grew solemn.

Su Lan, however, yawned and teased, "Maybe they’re just a young couple eloping! Uncle Duan is being too cautious."

"Stop talking nonsense," Su Xin scolded her sister. "Caution ensures long-term safety. It’s people like Uncle Duan who give us peace of mind."

Su Lan stuck out her tongue.

But something stirred in Dou Zhao’s heart—an irrepressible urge.

She got out of bed. "I want to see for myself," she said firmly.

After a long moment of contemplation, Su Xin repeated to Dou Zhao, "Then you must stay behind me at all times."

Dou Zhao nodded.

Su Xin helped her dress, draped a rain cape over her shoulders, and then held up a tung oil umbrella as they walked through the veranda to the front courtyard.

Two black-lacquered carriages and several horses stood in the center of the yard. Unfamiliar guards were braving the heavy rain to cover the horses with oilcloth. Despite the downpour, the horses remained perfectly still.

Duan Gongyi stood with a young man under the eastern wing’s veranda, watching the guards at work as they conversed.

The young man had his back to her. The sky was too dark to make out the color of his clothes, but he was of medium height, slightly slender, with a posture as straight as a pine tree—broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, his silhouette strikingly elegant.

Beside him stood a scholarly-looking man who faced her direction.

He appeared to be in his forties, with an ordinary face, but his eyes shone brighter than stars, gleaming with wisdom.

When he noticed Dou Zhao, he leaned over and whispered something to the young man.

Both the young man and Duan Gongyi turned their heads to look at her.A bolt of lightning suddenly split the sky, illuminating the courtyard as bright as day.

The youth's jet-black eyebrows, deep and tranquil eyes, slightly pale face, and exquisitely flawless features came into her view.

Dou Zhao felt as if she had been struck by that lightning, her mind roaring with thunder, unaware of where she was.

Someone frantically called her name, steadying her shoulders with gentle yet firm hands.

"Song Mo," she murmured, "how could I have met Song Mo..."