Don’t be fooled by Luo Linrui’s age — the boy hit hard enough to hurt.
Su Xin had always cut him slack because he was still a child. But Luo Linrui, mistaking her patience for fear, grew bolder and more arrogant. When he struck this time with extra force, she finally snapped.
She seized his pudgy fist as it flailed and flung it aside. Her voice was cold as she spat, “Those things aren’t yours. What I have, I earned. Ungrateful brat—get out!”
Luo Linrui’s instincts were cunning for a child. Although Su Xin hadn’t used much force, he dropped to the floor with a theatrical thud and began to wail as if mortally wounded.
That cry was like poking a hornet’s nest. Zhou Zhanlan, Zhou Qingqing, and Luo Ji — one and all — rushed forward, faces twisted with anger and worry. Before they could burst out, Ye Xi, standing to one side, pretended surprise and let loose the comment that changed everything.
“Oh? I thought something was off earlier. Turns out the little master’s birth father… isn’t Mr. Luo.”
The room went dead still. Heads turned. Even Qiao Yan and the others looked over; Ye Xi hadn’t told them this before.
Zhou Qingqing’s hand flew to the jade spring held in the Qiao household’s possession. Zhou Zhanlan and Luo Ji froze, exchanging looks of incredulous suspicion.
“What do you mean by that, Seer?” Zhou Zhanlan demanded.
Ye Xi feigned difficulty, then spoke each word deliberately: “I mean this little master’s biological father is not Mr. Luo.”
“You’re talking nonsense!” Zhou Qingqing’s face drained of color, rage flaring bright. “I married into the Luo family and have been faithful to my husband. Little Bao’s father—who else could it be?”
She threw the Seer’s title back as if it were a shield. “I have always shown you respect, you can’t use your position to slander me.”
“Seer,” Luo Ji chimed in, equally vehement, “are you blind behind your veil? How could Little Bao not be my son?”
Luo Ji knew better than anyone where he had been during the time Zhou Qingqing became pregnant. He had every reason, in his own mind, to be certain the child was his.
Zhou Zhanlan, however, had spent less time observing her son’s private affairs. She glanced at the wailing child on the floor — pudgy, round-faced, and somehow not so much like the baby she remembered. Then she looked at Zhou Qingqing, who was white-faced and shaking with a guilt she couldn’t hide. Zhanlan tapped her chin, voice measured: “If you’re so sure, and the Seer is here today, then let the Seer speak for herself. Ask her. Clear your name, if you dare.”
At her mother’s command, Zhou Qingqing fell to her knees with a heavy thud, tears streaming. “Mother—” she sobbed, “it’s not that I don’t want to ask, but here, in front of everyone… I don’t care about my honor, but if this spreads about Little Bao, what will become of him?”
Zhanlan hesitated.
Ye Xi’s tone turned cool. “There’s no need for you to ask. I counted the lines of fate with my fingers a moment ago — his birth father is here among us. I can tell by looking at him.”
“What!?” The room erupted.
Qiao Yan, enjoying the theater, raised her voice. “Oh? Who could it be? Do you mean—my household steward—”
She stopped short as realization hit. Earlier, when they’d burst in on Luo Ji, the naked man entangled with him had been Yuquan. Luo Ji’s glare fell on the quivering steward — daggers in every glance.
Zhanlan’s foot flew out and shoved Zhou Qingqing to the side. “Wretch! How dare you shame this family like this!”
Luo Ji, furious at being cuckolded with someone he’d once sought for a thrill, paced like a caged beast. He slapped Zhou Qingqing twice, cursing her, then stalked toward Yuquan with murderous intent.
Luo Linrui, seeing that his grandmother and father weren’t defending him but punishing his mother instead, let loose in a fresh fit of tantrum. He scratched at Zhanlan, then howled, hurt and enraged. The old indulgence Zhanlan had shown the golden grandson vanished in an instant; she grabbed him by the collar and rained blows down on him.
The Luo household devolved into dog-eat-dog chaos.
Qiao Yan and Su Xin, smug and satisfied at the spectacle, took the moment to slip away and fetch the wedding chest and bridal gifts. Lian Yi sent two people to collect them as well. Ye Xi, having achieved what she’d intended, didn’t linger. She quietly led Ling Yan and Sai Xing away, leaving the family in tatters.
But halfway down the path they found Qiao Yan waiting, grinning like she’d swallowed sunshine.
“Seer,” she said with exaggerated gravity and a bow, “your wit has saved my cousin’s family today. We can never repay you. My aunt and cousin have discussed it — we’d like to build you a Temple of Longevity as thanks. For the Seer to receive—”
A sharp metallic chime cut through her words. The sound of weapon meeting weapon stopped Qiao’s promise mid-syllable.
“Watch out!” Qiao, a trained fighter herself, reacted instinctively. A steel dart sliced through the air; Ling Yan, quicker still, flashed forward and blocked it. Heedless of her own safety, Qiao threw herself in front of Ye Xi, pulling her close. Sai Xing spread her arms protectively at the same time.
More darts hissed through the air in quick succession. Before Qiao could shout a question, the trio were interrupted by the steady, dangerous whine of projectiles.
“Go!” Ling Yan barked, sword already flashing. Yan Xuan and Yan Gui — no, that’s not introduced — sorry. The other companions leapt into the fray with clean efficiency.
Ye Xi knew her own limits. None of them were warriors in the true sense; Ling Yan and Sai Xing were capable, but Ye Xi could not fight. Qiao, for all her bravado, was no match for trained assassins. They would only slow the attackers down. When Ling Yan ordered retreat, she didn’t argue.
The temple grounds were crowded; it was the fifteenth night and incense burned thick with the prayers of families and their armed retainers. Ye Xi had chosen a quiet route to avoid being besieged by petitioners for divination, but when danger moved loud and swift, it drew people like iron draws sparks. The assassins, unwilling to be identified in a crowd, began to fall back.
Ye Xi made her decision and pulled Qiao and Sai Xing along, waiting for the right moment to run.
They put their feet to it and managed to put distance between themselves and the attackers — a good stretch of road — when a bright, white streak flashed past.
Qiao sensed it and, with a practiced motion, grabbed and flung at empty air. Ye Xi felt a sudden backward yank at her body and found herself pitching involuntarily. The white flash grazed the hollow of her throat, and a thin, hot bead of blood welled at the nick.