Blossom

At the same moment, he jolted awake to the sound of rain pouring from the heavens.

So it was raining!

Clutching his chest, it took him a while to calm his breathing.

These days at the Duke of England's Mansion had been like sleeping with weapons at hand for Chen Qushui—though Song Mo had lifted his confinement recently, as long as he remained within these walls, it felt like dwelling in a tiger's den.

He sat quietly for a time.

The rain grew heavier, the gale rattling tree branches with sharp cracking sounds. The scent of benzoin incense drifted from his bedside, yet it brought him an unexpected sense of peace.

Chen Qushui couldn't help but smile.

Since when had Song Luo taken to lighting benzoin incense?

Was it to help him sleep better?

Song Mo had assigned two twelve or thirteen-year-old pages to "attend" to him—one named Song Luo, the other Wuyi, both names of teas. Song Luo was lively while Wuyi was steady, yet both were sharp-witted, speaking only what should be said and never a word more. They attended to his needs meticulously, even displaying some literary cultivation, their flattery always well-grounded. It often made him marvel at the Duke of England's prestige—to casually produce such accomplished pages, what lesser household could manage without centuries of refinement?

He remembered the study windows were left open.

Books feared dampness most.

Chen Qushui called for the page on duty: "Song Luo! Song Luo!"

No answer came.

He frowned.

Whether following orders or adhering to the mansion's rules, the two pages had never left his side before—why couldn't he summon anyone today?

Puzzled, his gaze fell on a white mourning attire in the corner.

It had been delivered by a servant named Zeng Wu.

With the Duke of England's Madam deceased, all in the mansion were required to observe mourning.

He'd explained to Zeng Wu: "As a temporary guest, I'll simply wear plain clothing."

Zeng Wu rolled his eyes disdainfully. "You eat the Duke's food and drink the Duke's wine—you'll follow the Duke's rules. Don't think being Master Yan's acquaintance makes you special. Even Master Yan himself would wear full mourning upon return."

Chen Qushui had gained entry by claiming old ties with Yan Chaoqing.

He wouldn't stoop to argue, silently accepting the mourning clothes.

Zeng Wu strutted out muttering, "Some charlatan who duped the Young Lord with claims of knowing Master Yan, coming here to freeload. Who does he think he is? Push me too far and I'll report him to the Duke—see how he likes that!" His tone dripped with contempt.

Chen Qushui could only smile wryly.

Many in the mansion shared this view of him.

Perhaps it was for the best—no one paid him undue attention.

Retrieving a robe from the tall cabinet, he went to the study.

The four ice-crack patterned lattice windows brought light and air when open by day, but now proved troublesome to close.

As Chen Qushui reached to fold the supports, he spotted Song Luo running toward the building with a banana leaf sheltering his head.

Remembering the benzoin incense in his room, he had a sudden thought and hid behind the window.

Soon light footsteps echoed along the veranda, continuing to the side chamber near the inner room—the pages' sleeping quarters.

Where had the boy been at this hour?

Pondering this, Chen Qushui stepped out from behind the window.Someone came running through the rain in their direction.

Chen Qushui squinted and saw it was actually Wuyi.

Like Song Luo, he went straight to the side room.

Chen Qushui sensed something unusual was happening.

After a moment's thought, he quietly pressed his ear against the side room's door to listen.

"Hurry up and change out of those wet clothes before Mr. Chen notices," Wuyi's voice, though soft, was clearly audible on such a night.

"How unlucky! To be caught in such heavy rain!" Song Luo muttered under his breath.

But Wuyi asked, "Did you find out anything?"

"Nothing at all," Song Luo's voice sounded dejected. "Only that it was the Duke himself who ordered Wang Xi to make the arrest. As for why, no one knows. We'll have to wait until the Young Lord returns to handle it." He continued, his tone puzzled, "It's so strange—many of the guards in the residence now are unfamiliar to me. They kept questioning my identity repeatedly. If I hadn't run into Guard Xie, I might not have made it back! In the past, new guards would be shown around for a while until they recognized most of the household before being assigned patrols. But this time, out of four, I only knew Guard Xie..."

"That's why I think something's off!" Wuyi's voice was full of concern. "Brother Chen Tao served the Young Lord closely. The Young Lord praised him more than once for being careful and prudent, even entrusting him with his Personal Savings. What could Chen Tao have possibly done wrong? And Guard Wen—before the Young Lord left for Liaodong, he told Guard Wen right in front of me to keep an eye on our courtyard while he was away. He even said I should go to Guard Wen if anything came up. But I looked for him several times and couldn't find him. What is he doing...?"

Both fell silent.

Chen Qushui hurried back to his room and lay down.

Soon after, Song Luo entered.

"Mr. Chen! Mr. Chen!" he called softly.

Chen Qushui grunted and turned over.

Song Luo exhaled deeply in relief and lay down on the heated brick bed by the window outside the screen.

But Chen Qushui couldn't sleep at all.

He knew Chen Tao—just as Wuyi had said, he was a very meticulous young man, quiet and observant. With his temperament, he was perfectly suited to be a personal attendant.

What could he have done wrong?

He wondered how Dou Zhao was doing.

With Duan Gongyi and Chen Xiaofeng by her side, she should be safe.

That day had been terrifying. If not for the young lady's quick thinking, they might all have died at the farmstead.

But now she had to marry Wei Tingyu!

That fool didn't even stop to think—how could he and Song Mo be of similar age or status? Why would Song Mo go out of his way to befriend him so courteously?

Should he warn Wei Tingyu?

Of course, he couldn't tell him about the farmstead incident. He'd have to fabricate a reason for how the Fourth Miss knew Song Mo. But lies were like snowballs—they only grew bigger.

Sighing, Chen Qushui listened to the rain all night.

By morning, the rain had lightened.

Wuyi smiled at him and said, "I need to go find Guard Wen. Could you give me the day off, Mr. Chen?"

Recalling last night's conversation between Wuyi and Song Luo, Chen Qushui replied calmly, "Go ahead. I'll manage with Song Luo here."

Wuyi thanked him repeatedly before leaving in high spirits.He didn’t return until noon. After lunch, he mentioned going out again to look for Guard Wen: “...Couldn’t find him. Maybe he went out for something?”

This Guard Wen was around thirty-five or thirty-six years old, a burly man with a thick beard. Unmarried, he lived alone in the side houses on the east side of The Duke of England's Mansion.

By the afternoon, Wuyi still hadn’t found Guard Wen.

Zeng Wu arrived holding an umbrella, accompanying a tall and burly man.

He introduced the man: “There are only three people in this courtyard. One is an elderly man, a down-and-out Successful Candidate in the Imperial Examination, a close friend of Master Yan, who was taken in by the Young Lord and lives here. The other two are Pages serving this scholar. One is Wuyi, who used to sweep the study in the Hall of Cultivating Will; the other is Song Luo, who tended the plants there before being assigned here to watch the courtyard. They also help this Scholar Chen with meals and hot water—quite useful.” As he spoke, he called to Chen Qushui: “Hey, come here. Pay your respects to Guard Chang. From now on, he’ll be the guard of the Hall of Cultivating Will. Keep your eyes sharp.”

Chen Qushui was horrified.

The Hall of Cultivating Will was changing guards while Song Mo was away?

What had happened?

Not daring to show any reaction, Chen Qushui hurried forward to greet Guard Chang.

Guard Chang gave him a cold glance and walked around the room.

Chen Qushui’s mind reeled.

The man’s hands were large as fans, rough and powerful, with a jade thumb ring on one thumb.

He had seen men like this under Duke Ding’s command.

They were all master archers.

Guard Chang left the room, strolling around the courtyard under Zeng Wu’s umbrella.

The places he stopped were all key positions in the yard.

If crossbows were placed there, the entire courtyard would be within range.

Chen Qushui broke into a cold sweat, barely managing to keep his composure.

As soon as Guard Chang and Zeng Wu left, he immediately called Wuyi over and asked, “How many guards did the Young Lord leave behind? Do you know what they’ve been doing these days?”

Wuyi also sensed something was wrong.

How could the Hall of Cultivating Will change guards without the Young Lord’s approval?

Though he didn’t know Chen Qushui’s background, he knew Chen Qushui was confined here.

Someone the Young Lord valued so highly couldn’t be ordinary.

Out of caution, he didn’t tell Chen Qushui how many guards Song Mo had left, only saying, “I haven’t seen any of the guards around.”

Song Mo had gone to Liaodong, his chief adviser Yan Chaoqing to Haozhou, and the most skilled fighter, Xu Qing, had stayed with the Jiang Family. The Hall of Cultivating Will was left vulnerable, Chen Tao was imprisoned, and the other guards had vanished... By the time Song Mo returned, the Hall of Cultivating Will would already be in someone else’s hands...

Lure the tiger away from the mountain, drain the pond to catch the fish.

It was the Emperor’s usual tactic against frontier generals.

But who was targeting Song Mo?

A figure vaguely surfaced in Chen Qushui’s mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

Why would that person do this?

What reason could they have?

Chen Qushui suddenly felt his mind wasn’t working right.

He turned to Wuyi and said, “I’d like to send a letter to Zhen Ding. Can you help me deliver it?”

Chen Qushui often wrote letters to Zhen Ding, which Wuyi would take to the post station for him.

Wuyi agreed, “Sure.”Since the Young Lord had agreed that Chen Qushui could send letters back at any time, those letters had always been reviewed by Master Yan.

This time, with Master Yan absent, he could also help take a look.

Chen Qushui wrote about trivial matters—flowers blooming in the courtyard, new unfamiliar guards arriving at the Duke's mansion today who would take some time to recognize, and other such domestic affairs.

But with the Hall of Cultivating Will under lockdown, the letter couldn’t be sent out. Wuyi was interrogated repeatedly, and if not for his quick wits, he might not have made it back at all.

Chen Qushui drew a sharp breath.

If something happened to Song Mo, and he was staying in Song Mo’s Hall of Cultivating Will, would Miss Dou the Fourth be implicated?

She was just a young woman, already facing hardships. If she lost the favor of the Dou family elders because of this, what would she do?

Chen Qushui gritted his teeth and whispered to Song Luo, “Based on my experience, this rain will stop by midnight at the latest. Can you use the cover of the rain to slip out of the mansion? When Madam passed away, didn’t they send someone to inform the Young Lord? The Young Lord will surely enter the city through Anding Gate. Wait outside Anding Gate, find a way to intercept him, and tell him everything that’s happened at home!”

Song Luo’s face was tense as he nodded firmly.

But then, a clamor erupted outside.

“The Young Lord has returned! The Young Lord has returned!”

The voices spread through the Duke of England's Mansion like waves, crashing against Chen Qushui, leaving his face pale as he slumped into the Grand Preceptor's Chair.