The Crown Prince lifted her into his arms and gently wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes. "Did you dream of your mother?"
Yun Kui nestled in his embrace and nodded softly. After slowly calming her emotions, she murmured, "Your Highness, you’ve already found him, haven’t you?"
The Crown Prince knew who she was referring to. "Yes."
Yun Kui hesitated for a long moment. "Could you tell me... what kind of man he is?"
The Crown Prince replied, "He was a military officer under the late emperor. After the defeat at Wolf Mountain, the current emperor exiled him from the capital. He served as a battalion commander in a southern garrison and later went to Kaiyang to suppress bandits. That’s where he met your mother in Dongshan."
A trace of long-held resentment lingered in Yun Kui’s eyes, and a faint sneer touched her lips. "So, he was a military man."
Though Sheng Yu had his reasons, he had ultimately failed Lady Qi, leaving her to carry their child alone, endure society’s scorn, and die young. The Crown Prince wouldn’t defend him, but he also didn’t want her to be utterly disillusioned by the family she had secretly yearned for.
After a brief pause, the Crown Prince continued, "When the new emperor ascended the throne, he purged the late emperor’s loyalists to consolidate his power. The commander of Pengcheng Garrison at the time sent your father to Shandong to suppress bandits. Amid rampant outlaws and relentless imperial assassins, he was severely wounded and trapped between enemies. Your mother saved him. Later, Dongshan was sealed off, and they were separated. Your father, barely able to protect himself, chose not to seek her out to avoid dragging her into danger. He never knew that night had left your mother with you."
Yun Kui froze. Hearing "battalion commander," she had pictured a heartless officer who abandoned his wife and child—never imagining such peril lay behind it.
"Then... is he still alive?"
The Crown Prince had once promised to arrange a reunion if she wished, so he must still be living.
"He is," the Crown Prince confirmed.
Yun Kui lowered her gaze slowly.
If he was alive, he must be in his thirties at least. As a military officer, a battalion commander held at least a fifth-rank position. He surely had wives, concubines, and children by now. What was she, then? A bastard daughter?
Reading her thoughts, the Crown Prince answered plainly, "He never married. You are his only child."
Yun Kui was stunned anew. "Never married?"
The Crown Prince nodded. "Your grandparents have long passed. He is alone now. You needn’t worry about facing a harsh stepmother or scheming siblings after reuniting."
"Of course," he added, his gaze resting on her face, "you don’t have to live with him. Stay by my side. The Eastern Palace will be your home."
That man—even if he had once been a trusted aide of the late emperor and someone the Crown Prince himself had recommended—had failed as a father for every single day of her life. Even if he wanted to acknowledge her now, the Crown Prince wouldn’t easily let her go.
At the word "home," a flicker of confusion passed through Yun Kui’s eyes, followed by a sense of distance.
It was something others were born with, yet she had spent her life chasing it in vain.
But he was offering her a home?
Did that mean he intended to elevate her status, perhaps even make her a Liangdi?
At the very least, she’d need to be a Liangdi to dare call the Eastern Palace her home.
The Crown Prince sighed inwardly. "You dare strike me, yet you don’t dare imagine your own position?"
Yun Kui tugged open his collar, glimpsed the red mark on his chest, and immediately shrank back, muttering meekly, "I shouldn’t. Better not think about it."
The Crown Prince: "..."
He exhaled and returned to the earlier topic. "So, do you want to meet him?"
Yun Kui clenched her fingers lightly. "What is his status? Would it affect my place with you?"
"No," the Crown Prince said. "I’ve told you—no matter whose daughter you are, it’s you I care for. Nothing else matters. No one dares question my decisions."
Yun Kui nestled deeper into his arms, warmth flooding her chest, leaving her heart tender and soft.
Yet memories of her childhood—living under others’ roofs, enduring cold disdain—surfaced, stirring bitterness and resentment. Emotions tangled chaotically within her.
Still, she couldn’t deny the deepest part of her that had never stopped longing for family.
At least he wasn’t some scoundrel who abandoned women, nor a man with multiple wives who treated her mother as a passing fling. He had been forced apart from her mother by relentless dangers. The true culprits were those bandits and assassins...
After a long silence, Yun Kui finally spoke. "Your Highness, could I see him first? Not to meet—just from afar. Would that be alright?"
She wanted to see what kind of man he was—why her mother had chosen to bear her despite all the scorn. If he proved unworthy, she would never acknowledge him as her father.
The Crown Prince stroked her hair. "Very well."
The next day, after court discussions in Chongming Hall, the Crown Prince deliberately detained Sheng Yu.
On the desk lay the compiled records Zhao Yue had gathered—details of Sheng Yu’s bandit suppression in Kaiyang County and the timeline of Lady Qi’s pregnancy.
The Crown Prince handed him the documents. "General Sheng, do you recall the fourth year of Zhenning, the sixth month? You were sent to Shandong to suppress bandits, ambushed in Dongshan, and severely wounded. A woman gathering herbs saved you..."
Sheng Yu’s expression fractured, the calm veneer splitting open.
After eighteen years, he never expected to hear of her again.
"Your Highness, this—"
The Crown Prince studied his reaction and said evenly, "She bore you a daughter."
Before Sheng Yu could process the first revelation, these words struck like lightning. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he took the records.
The black-and-white text laid out the past with unmistakable clarity. He didn’t dare skim, reading each word in silence as memories of that day and night with the woman resurfaced like a lantern’s glow.
Back then, poisoned darts had blinded him. Groping his way to a cave for refuge, he stumbled upon a physician’s daughter sheltering from the rain.
Seeing his wounds, she immediately retrieved bandages and herbs from her basket and tended to him.
Some injuries were on his torso—impossible for him to treat alone. He removed his upper garments, letting her clean and dress them.
Her touch was gentle yet skilled. Perhaps fearing he’d faint from pain, she kept speaking to him.
He never saw her face but remembered her voice vividly.
As she applied herbs, she asked, "Are many people hunting you?"
He admitted it, then teased lightly, "Aren’t you afraid I’m a bandit?"
She seemed to laugh. "Bandits... do they come this handsome? You carry a spear, your body bears old scars, and your jade pendant is carved with a qilin. You’ve fought in battles—a general, no?"
He stayed silent, neither confirming nor denying.
After tending to his wounds, she treated his eyes with medicinal paste and wrapped them in bandages.
Their robes were soaked from the rain. She lit a fire in the cave, hung their clothes on a makeshift rack to dry, then settled beside him.
"The summer mountains are teeming with snakes and insects. I'll stay here with you, General, until your subordinates arrive. Then I'll leave."
He was already deeply grateful and didn’t wish to trouble her further. "I am blind. If assassins come, I fear I won’t be able to protect you. Take this jade pendant as my thanks. In the future—"
Before he could finish, he heard the steady, even breaths of the woman beside him.
Exhausted, she had fallen asleep.
He closed his eyes to rest but remained alert, listening intently for any movement outside the cave. As night fell and no suspicious footsteps or clashing weapons echoed from outside, he gradually relaxed into a light slumber.
But instead of assassins, a chilling rustling sound suddenly approached. He immediately tightened his grip on his spear, and the physician girl awoke, her breath hitching in alarm. "Poisonous snakes… so many of them…"
The fire had dwindled to faint embers, no longer enough to deter the snakes. Panicked, she scrambled to pick up the least charred branches from the ashes, though her hands trembled with fear.
As a physician, she was no stranger to venomous snakes in the mountains. But being surrounded by so many, with a blind and injured man beside her, even she couldn’t remain calm.
The pain from his wounds made it difficult for him to pinpoint the snakes by sound alone. He pulled her behind him. "Tell me their positions. I’ll handle them."
She nodded and began guiding him. He swung his spear, cutting down the slithering creatures one by one.
Perhaps surprised by his skill despite his injuries, he thought he heard her whisper an awed breath.
But the snakes were relentless, and the spear was less precise than a blade. Before long, three or four vipers slipped past his defenses. A sharp pain shot through his abdomen as fangs sank into his flesh. Just as he tried to adjust his stance, she lunged forward, brandishing a burning branch to drive the snakes away.
The air thickened with the metallic scent of blood. Together, they fought until the last snake lay dead. Only then did they dare to exhale.
But his head grew heavy, his vision swimming. He swayed on his feet, and she quickly realized he’d been bitten. She helped him sit, examining the wound with grave focus.
Her silence made him think the worst. Over the years, he’d faced countless assassins. Dying by their blades wouldn’t have surprised him.
He opened his mouth to offer comfort—perhaps even last words—but she spoke first, her voice strained.
"The venom… it must be sucked out. Otherwise, it will spread to your organs."
She seemed to be asking for his permission.
As a physician, she was no stranger to tending wounds. But his injury was… inconveniently placed.
After a long pause, he said, "It seems my time has come. There’s no need for you to—"
Before he could finish, she whispered, "Forgive me, General…"
Then warmth enveloped the wound—soft lips pressing against his skin, drawing out the poison. The pain mingled with an electric tingling that shot down his spine. His fists clenched, veins bulging as he fought to suppress the shudder that wracked his body.
Though his will was iron, his body betrayed him. The dim cave hid his reaction—mostly. But she was so close, her mouth moving over his wound, that she must have noticed.
Once the venom was cleared, silence stretched between them. He turned away, shame and frustration burning through him.
The pain in his abdomen faded, but the heat pooling there only grew worse, spreading like wildfire through his veins. His mind fogged, consumed by a hunger he couldn’t control.
This wasn’t the aftermath of venom.
Then he heard her voice, trembling with panic. "I—I didn’t know the poison would affect you like this. General, are you alright? I—"
She leaned in to check his wound again, and this time, there was no hiding his state.
Their drying robes hung on a makeshift rack, leaving him clad only in bandages. The cave’s air grew thick, charged with something neither could resist. Blindness sharpened his other senses—every brush of her skin against his sent sparks through him. Reason shattered, leaving only raw, primal need…
When he woke again, it was noon the next day.
His men had found him and brought him to a posthouse, where his wounds were properly treated.
He urgently asked about the woman, but his subordinates claimed they’d seen no one.
Returning to the cave, he found her basket gone, the dead snakes cleared away.
Perhaps she’d taken them—snake gallbladders, shed skins, and oil were valuable medicinal ingredients. Maybe she’d gone to wash them in the stream or sell them at the market.
Though the venom had driven him, he’d still taken advantage of her. He waited in the cave, determined to make things right.
But before she returned, the assassins struck again. A brutal fight ensued, and only with the help of nearby soldiers did he and his men escape alive.
Meanwhile, bandits raided the mountains. The regional army sealed off the area, hunting them down. His focus shifted entirely to survival and battle.
Later, gravely wounded, he was taken back to Pengcheng. Half a year passed before his sight returned—only for his mother to fall ill and pass away.
That night with the physician girl had been fleeting, not love. Yet in quiet moments, her voice haunted him, the memory of their feverish embrace seared into his bones.
Had circumstances allowed, he would have searched for her, begged her parents’ forgiveness, and married her properly.
Years slipped by. He assumed she’d wed another, borne children.
But he never imagined she’d borne his daughter—alone.
She had suffered through childbirth, even died for it. And their child had endured hardship after hardship.
Guilt and regret crashed over him like a tidal wave. Every word in the case file was a knife, carving deeper into his flesh.
His fists clenched until his hands shook.
