Ji Brother ran until his face turned pale, his chest heaving like a pair of bellows. Shen Miao quickly pulled him into the courtyard, hurrying to fetch him water while scolding, "Did you forget everything I told you before? What’s the point of rushing back like this? Is passing the exam more important than your own health? Your body is the founda—the foundation for your whole life!"
She nearly let slip those two words but swallowed them just in time.
No sooner had they stepped inside than Shen Ji suddenly turned around and buried his face in Shen Miao’s embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her without a word.
Shen Miao, holding two plump chickens in one hand, froze in place.
Unlike Sister Xiang, Ji Brother rarely showed such affection. Whenever Sister Xiang threw herself into Shen Miao’s arms to act spoiled, Ji Brother would only stand aside and tease her, calling her a baby for clinging to her elder sister at her age.
At such times, Sister Xiang would only lift her chin higher and hug Shen Miao’s waist even tighter.
Ever since Shen Miao returned to Bianjing and became part of Ji Brother’s life, this seemed to be the first time he had ever expressed his emotions so openly.
"I ranked sixth. Elder Sister," his voice muffled against her clothes, sounded subdued, though in truth, he was trembling with joy, barely holding back tears. "I actually ranked sixth."
Without a tutor’s guidance, without classmates to encourage him, without his father’s advice—he had only three old books gifted by Ninth Brother and countless lonely nights spent desperately studying and practicing past papers.
Late into those nights, he often wondered if his efforts were truly worthwhile. Was he just wasting his time, spinning his wheels? Lost in the fog, torn between pride and self-doubt, he couldn’t even bring himself to voice these wavering thoughts to his closest elder sister.
With no one to confide in and no clarity about the path ahead, he trudged forward in confusion, unsure of how far he had even come.
Later, he couldn’t resist seeking comfort from his elder sister, like a traveler in the cold night yearning for light. And comfort he did receive. He repeated her words to himself, tossing and turning in bed, trying to convince himself not to fret, not to hope too much, not to exhaust himself over an outcome that hadn’t yet arrived. He understood the logic, but his heart refused to listen.
Even on the way to the outer city with Uncle Li to check the results, his heart churned like a boiling pot of oil, each step filled with agony.
When they reached the gates of Piyong Academy, the massive list of names had already been posted, surrounded by layer upon layer of people. Uncle Li dragged him forward, squeezing through the crowd with great effort.
Standing beneath the list, his heart pounded so loudly he hardly dared to look up. Carefully, he began counting backward from the 100th admitted candidate. By the 70th name, he saw Hai Ge’er’s name—but not his own.
His heart sank.
Hai Ge’er memorized texts faster and had a natural talent for writing essays. If Hai Ge’er only ranked 70th, what did that mean for him?
Had he failed?
Counting up to the 50th name, he still hadn’t found himself. He closed his eyes, too afraid to continue. Li Tiaozi, equally nervous, wrung his hands and asked, "Ji Brother, have you spotted Gou Er’s name yet?"
Shen Ji shook his head and forced himself to keep counting.
By the 20th name—the top candidates who had been placed in the "First Tier"—even the ink used to write their names had changed to a striking vermilion, glaringly bright in his vision. The 20th name wasn’t his, nor was it Gou Er’s.
The 10th name—still nothing.
His heart leaped into his throat. Desperate, he cast one last glance upward and suddenly caught sight of a red "Ji" character. His gaze halted abruptly, then slowly, painstakingly, traced back to that line.
The name, hanging high on the list, seemed to glow as it crashed into his dimming vision.
"First Tier, Sixth Place: Shen Ji, second son, residing at Willow East Lane, Yongkang Quarter, near Golden Beam Bridge..."
Shen Ji’s entire body jolted. His eyes widened in disbelief as he read the words again, letter by letter. He even stood on tiptoe to triple-check the address, terrified it might be a case of mistaken identity. Once certain, the heart that had nearly leaped from his throat didn’t settle back down—instead, it surged upward with such force it threatened to burst through his skull.
But he quickly suppressed that impulse when he noticed Uncle Li still anxiously scanning the list, his face tense. Though illiterate, the man squinted at the dense sea of characters, as if willing himself to recognize a familiar shape.
Shen Ji hurriedly scanned the list once more, thoroughly this time, but Gou Er’s name was nowhere to be found. Softly, he broke the news. Though Uncle Li’s face briefly fell, he soon forced a smile. "It’s fine, it’s fine. Gou Er’s a year younger than you. He can try again next year—there’s always another chance."
On the way back, Uncle Li, who had walked briskly earlier, now dragged his feet, each step heavy with silent sighs.
Shen Ji accompanied him for a while but couldn’t bear it any longer. Apologizing, he broke into a sprint.
He didn’t dare show his joy in front of someone so disheartened, but he desperately wanted to rush home—to tell his elder sister first.
He had passed. He really had passed! The faster he ran, the more his exhilaration burst forth, the wind roaring in his ears, his chest burning. Yet all that wild excitement vanished the moment he saw his elder sister.
For some reason, a faint sense of grievance welled up from deep inside him, sour and slow.
Clutching his elder sister’s slender waist, the lonely months of preparation flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern. After stammering, "I ranked sixth," his voice cracked, and he could say no more.
The only response was the gentle pat of his elder sister’s hand on his back.
Her hands were working hands—not delicate, marked with scars—but their warmth soothed him instantly. Only when he finally calmed did he realize what he had done.
What was he doing?
How embarrassing!!
Shen Ji leaped back like a startled rabbit, his face burning, and bolted into the house.
What’s with this kid’s dramatics? Shen Miao, still holding the plump chickens, shook her head with a mix of amusement and exasperation before calling out casually to his fleeing figure, "Ji Brother, rest for a bit, then remember to go fetch Sister Xiang and Youyu from the alley. Those two unreliable ones took the dog out and vanished."
After a pause, she added cheerfully, "Ji Brother, you did great!"
Humming "Good fortune tonight, we feast on chicken," she headed to the kitchen to chop up the birds.
Shen Ji buried his mortified, crimson face in the quilt for a long time. Only when the familiar thud of a cleaver against the cutting board echoed from the kitchen did he finally get up and slip out the back gate to find Sister Xiang.
He peeked around the back doors of every neighbor’s house but couldn’t find Sister Xiang anywhere—until he reached the Gu family’s oil mill at the very end of the alley, where he finally heard her voice mingling with the laughter of other children playing house.
The Gu household was more spacious than the others. Their courtyard held a large stone mill, tall wooden levers, and an enormous iron wok for frying oil. Beside it stood a towering warehouse, stacked high with sacks of sesame, rapeseed, and soybeans resting on raised wooden shelves. The moment one stepped into the Gu home, the rich, fragrant scent of oil filled the air.
The older generation of the Gu family had long passed, and now the household was managed by the young Gu Dalang, who was only a few years older than Sister Xiang. His good-natured demeanor seemed soaked in sesame oil, and his round, watermelon-like belly made him a favorite among the children.
When Ji Brother arrived, Sister Xiang was playing the role of a barber, with Gu Dalang reclining on a bamboo chair as her customer, letting her fuss over him. His twin children, Bao and Di, acted as her apprentices—one pretending to hand her a razor, the other holding imaginary hot water, both eagerly awaiting their next task from the master barber.
Lei Ting and Youyu sat dazed on two other bamboo chairs, clearly the previous victims of this playful torment. Lei Ting, the dog, sported two comical pigtails sticking straight up, while Youyu’s hair was braided into uneven little plaits.
Shen Ji couldn’t help but peek inside.
"Uncle, how’s my technique? Would you like soap for your wash later, or not?" Sister Xiang asked with exaggerated seriousness.
Gu Dalang stifled his laughter, playing along. "What’s the difference?"
"A huge difference! Soap keeps lice away, and after a good combing, your hair will stay shiny and tangle-free for days!"
"Sounds wonderful. Then I’ll take the soap."
"That’ll be an extra thirty coins. This is top-quality mutton-fat soap, you know!"
Gu Dalang feigned shock, sitting up from the chair. "No, no, that’s too much. I’ll pass!"
Sister Xiang quickly pushed him back down. "Oh, come on! You’re a regular—I’ll give you a discount!"
"How much cheaper?" Gu Dalang was already shaking with laughter as he collapsed back into the chair.
"Twenty coins? Quick, Bao! Fetch the good soap for our uncle!"
"Coming!" Bao dashed inside and back out, pretending to carry something precious. Then, in a dramatic betrayal, she handed it to her own father, announcing, "Uncle, your soap is here!"
Gu Dalang grinned so wide his gums showed. "Fine, fine, let’s get on with it."
"Uncle, would you like a shave? Ten coins extra."
Gu Dalang gasped in mock outrage. "This is a robbery! I’m leaving!"
Sister Xiang grabbed his sleeve. "Don’t go! Five coins, just for you!"
And so, amid the fragrant oil-scented courtyard, the children giggled and fussed over Gu Dalang—washing his hair, combing his scalp, even pretending to shave his face with a wooden chip. After the ordeal, Sister Xiang had Di fetch an imaginary mirror and declared, "Uncle, look at you! All washed and shaved—you’re practically presentable now!"
Gu Dalang nearly toppled off the chair laughing. What kind of compliment was that?
"Uncle, want your beard trimmed? Maybe a dapper mustache with curled ends?"
Gu Dalang, already anticipating her scheme, patted his belly and smirked. "Let me guess—extra charge?"
"Just five coins! But since you’re a loyal customer, I’ll throw it in for free!"
"You barbers—always finding ways to squeeze coins out of people. Must make a fortune in a day!"
"Hard-earned money!" Sister Xiang rubbed her hands together, her adorable yet shrewd expression shining through. "Can’t rely on looks alone, my sister says. Either study hard or make money—gotta have at least one!"
Gu Dalang roared with laughter, and even Shen Ji, eavesdropping outside, couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
By the time Shen Ji stepped in to retrieve his sister, Gu Dalang had been reduced to a disheveled mess—his hair tousled, a patch of his sideburns shaved off, and several beard hairs plucked out. Spotting Shen Ji, Gu Dalang seized the chance to escape. "Your brother’s here! Time to go home!"
The customer had fled before the final touch—trimming split ends! Sister Xiang stomped her foot, then turned hopeful eyes to her brother. "Ji Brother, how about a haircut?"
"Cut your own head off. Sister’s calling you home."
Grabbing his mischievous sister by the scruff of her neck, Shen Ji led the way—one hand holding Youyu’s, the other herding Lei Ting the dog. With this rowdy procession in tow, he finally freed the Gu family from the chaos of children.
As the trio and the dog passed the Li household, they suddenly heard Li Gou’er’s shrill wails and Aunt Li’s heartbroken scolding from behind the wall: "Useless child! I’ve stayed up night after night with you, burning oil and spending every penny to tutor you—where has all that learning gone? Wasted! All wasted!"
Sister Xiang paused, instinctively craning her neck to peer through the gate, but Shen Ji quickly hushed her and pulled her away. "Will Gou’er get beaten?" she whispered anxiously.
Shen Ji hesitated. Aunt Li was notorious in the alley for her competitive nature, always measuring herself against others. "Best not go in. Seeing us would only make her angrier."
"Why?" Sister Xiang tilted her head.
Shen Ji sighed. "I passed the exams. Gou’er didn’t. If we barge in now, Aunt Li won’t think you’re concerned—she’ll think you’re gloating. Besides, Gou’er’s at home with his parents. Even if he’s scolded, Uncle Li dotes on him. He won’t suffer too much."
"You passed?!" Sister Xiang finally registered the news, bouncing with delight.
Shen Ji clapped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet."
"But it’s good news! Nothing to hide..." She trailed off, glancing back once more. Li Gou’er’s cries hung in the air like a taut string, leaving her unsettled. She squeezed Shen Ji’s hand and obediently followed him home without another word.
Sister Miao’s better. She never hits anyone. The thought flitted through her mind.
In the kitchen, Shen Miao rinsed blood from a bowl of chicken. The distant sobs drifted through the window, and her hands stilled for a moment before she sighed and resumed her work.
She had originally thought that such a fine day called for inviting Aunt Gu’s family over to celebrate Ji Brother’s achievements together. For this, she had bought two exceptionally large chickens—plump, tender, and even still carrying eggs inside. But now, considering the Li family’s current attitude, if she made too big a fuss over Ji Brother’s success, she might earn Aunt Li’s petty resentment for a lifetime.
Ah well, better to keep it small and just enjoy a quiet meal with her own family.
After cleaning the chickens, she prepared an array of side dishes on the counter: shiitake mushrooms, chicken blood, lettuce, napa cabbage, and fried tofu skins.
The fire in the stove was already roaring, the flames fierce. Once the pan was hot, she dropped in a chunk of lard. As the oil heated, she tossed in scallions and ginger to stir-fry first, followed by Sichuan peppercorns and star anise, letting the rich aroma bloom. Then came the chicken pieces, sizzling as they hit the pan. When the meat turned golden, she added fermented bean paste, soy sauce, salt, and other seasonings. Shen Miao also poured in a large bowl of yellow wine, drizzling it along the edge of the pan. The moment the liquor hit the heat, a fragrant steam erupted, mingling with the spices and chicken into an intoxicating aroma.
Once the chicken was seared and the flavors fully awakened, she added enough water to submerge everything, covered the pot, and let it simmer.
As the broth thickened and the scent of chicken melded with the other ingredients, she tossed in the remaining vegetables and let them stew a little longer.
While waiting, she started kneading dough for the flatbread.
The bread for this rustic pot-roasted chicken had its own special touch. Shen Miao used to prefer mixing cornmeal with wheat flour for a hint of sweetness, but since corn wasn’t available now, plain wheat flour would do just fine.
After kneading the dough smooth, she divided it into small portions and soaked them in cold water for a quarter of an hour. Then she stretched each piece into long strips and pressed them around the inner rim of the iron pot, deliberately keeping them low so the bottom half would soak up the rich chicken broth. The bread would absorb the chicken’s fragrance, while the chicken, in turn, would take on the bread’s flavor—a combination so delicious it could make one dizzy with delight.
They wouldn’t serve it in bowls either. While the bread steamed, Shen Miao used leftover bricks from house construction to build a makeshift stove in the yard, sturdy enough to hold the iron pot. She fetched a baking tray from the kiln, filled it with charcoal, and lit it beneath the pot so they could eat directly from the simmering vessel, keeping the meal piping hot from start to finish.
By the time the chicken was ready, dusk had begun to settle.
Two whole chickens and a heap of side dishes filled the enormous iron pot to the brim. When Shen Miao lifted it with a deep breath, the broth, just off the fire, still bubbled faintly, releasing little gulps of sound.
Once the pot was mounted on the brick stove, Youyu eagerly brought stools over. Ji Brother and Sister Xiang handed out chopsticks and bowls. The little dog, who had been out roaming all day, somehow caught the scent and came trotting back, wagging its fan-like tail before plopping itself firmly on Shen Miao’s feet, refusing to budge no matter how much she shooed it.
Lei Ting, however, was far more dignified, ambling over slowly before finally settling at Ji Brother’s feet.
The sky hung low, still tinged with indigo as a few silver stars pierced through. The warm summer breeze drifted over the courtyard wall, stirring the embers in the stove, which crackled and spat sparks intermittently. The chicken in the pot bubbled vigorously as Shen Miao lifted the lid, releasing a wave of aroma that billowed out like fog, filling the yard and drawing an awed “Wow!” from Sister Xiang.
The four of them gathered around the pot, with two extra stools placed between each pair for wine bowls and bone plates.
Since the children couldn’t drink alcohol, Shen Miao poured herself and Youyu cups of cypress-leaf wine chilled in the well. Ji Brother and Sister Xiang got sour plum juice sent over by Mei Sanniang. Pinching Sister Xiang’s pouting lips—which could’ve held an oil bottle—she cheerfully raised her bowl and urged everyone to join in a toast:
“Today is all about celebrating our Ji Brother’s admission to Biyong Academy! And not just any class—the top-tier A Division! You’re amazing! From now on, you’ll study at the finest academy, and your future will be smooth and bright!”
“Smooth and bright!” Sister Xiang echoed loudly.
“And full of happiness!” Shen Miao added.
“Ah! Ah!” Youyu chimed in excitedly.
Four hands lifted earthenware bowls high, clinking together under the night sky, against the backdrop of the flickering stove and the bubbling pot. Wine and soup splashed out, while laughter and well-wishes seemed to flow like the moonlight creeping onto the treetops, spilling into the little courtyard.
After that, they dug in with single-minded focus—the food was too delicious to spare any attention for conversation. The chicken was tender, the bread soaked in broth so flavorful it nearly made them bite their tongues in delight. Halfway through, Sister Xiang remembered to toss some meaty bones to Lei Ting and the little dog, who gnawed at them contentedly.
Once the meal was over, Shen Miao fried the remaining unused bread and mixed it with pork bone broth for the dogs. Even Lei Ting ate until his belly was round, collapsing onto the porch as if too full to move.
Sister Xiang, stuffed to the point of clutching a pillar for support, flopped onto Lei Ting and refused to budge, her eyes drooping shut.
Ji Brother wasn’t much better, pacing circles in the yard.
Youyu obediently went to wash the dishes, while Shen Miao used a long bamboo pole to lower the courtyard lanterns, lighting them before hoisting them back up. The warm glow spilled over the moonlit ground, turning the silvery light into a shimmering, watery gold.
Only the little yellow dog dashed out again, returning after a while with something clutched in its jaws.
Shen Miao’s heart sank at the sight.
This pup had grown naughtier with age—lately, it had taken to sneaking out and bringing back stinky shoes, always the same single one, stolen from who-knows-where. She’d even set up a basket in the alley for people to reclaim their missing footwear.
So when she saw the dog proudly trotting back with another prize, she assumed it was yet another shoe. Her scalp prickled with exasperation as she rushed over, scolding while tugging its ear:
“How many times must I tell you? No stealing! If you don’t listen, Lei Ting will teach you a painful lesson! Where do you even find these shoes? And what’s in your mouth now? Hurry up and return it—”
Before she could finish, the dog spat its loot onto the ground.
Shen Miao looked down. It wasn’t a shoe—but a large, furry, multicolored rat… writhing weakly.
She gasped, stepping back. On closer inspection, it didn’t quite look like a rat. Did rats even come in multicolor? Weren’t they all gray?
And then the “rat” let out a tiny, pitiful sound—
“Me… mew…”
Shen Miao had a vague sense of foreboding. She crouched down and gently poked at something with her finger—soft and warm. When she turned it over, sure enough, it was a barely opened-eyed kitten! Mottled in yellow, white, and black, the tiny creature was drenched in puppy drool, with only one eye half-open, still unable to see clearly, mewling weakly as it crawled clumsily on the ground.
"You—where did you steal this kitten from?!" Shen Miao pointed at the puppy, exasperated. "What are we going to do now? There’s no mother cat or goat’s milk—how can we keep this little thing alive? Hurry, take it back before its mother notices!"
The puppy barked innocently, wagging its tail.
Shen Miao grabbed the basin she usually used to feed chickens, placed the kitten inside, and led the puppy outside, searching everywhere for signs of a mother cat with newborns. She combed through Willow East Alley to Willow West Alley, asked other cat owners, and even crossed Golden Beam Bridge to look—but found nothing.
Eventually, she even ran into the big tabby cat—ever since Shen Miao stopped setting up her stall on Golden Beam Bridge, it had led its little gang to a kind fishmonger’s shop, where it now "helped" guard the stall in exchange for a few small fish every day.
Dejected, Shen Miao trudged back home, holding the kitten in the basin and dragging the puppy behind her, utterly at a loss. Suddenly, she heard someone calling her from a distance. Turning, she spotted a familiar chestnut horse pulling a carriage through the bustling crowd, struggling to make its way toward her.
"Whoa—"
Zhou Da wiped sweat from his brow as he finally brought the carriage to a stop in front of Shen Miao.
Xie Qi, both surprised and delighted, quickly stepped down. "Shen Miao, I didn’t expect to run into you at the night market."
Night market? She’d been completely sabotaged by her own dog! Shen Miao gave a bitter laugh. "I—well—I was actually out looking for a cat."
Xie Qi glanced down and saw the shallow earthen basin in her arms, holding a kitten barely bigger than a mouse. "Ah," he nodded. "Found it? Did you get another cat at home?"
"Not at all! It’s all his fault!" Shen Miao vented, recounting the puppy’s crimes—how it had stolen shoes and now this kitten. Her animated frustration made the story all the more amusing, lifting Xie Qi’s spirits despite the melancholy weighing on him.
Tonight, he had been seeing off his third brother, Xie Tiao, who was leaving the city.
Xie Tiao had made up his mind abruptly, refusing to listen to anyone—even Father Xie, who had spent an hour after court trying to dissuade him. Now, with only two servants and two horses, he was setting off under the cover of night.
Xie Qi had accompanied him all the way to the outer city’s post road before Xie Tiao finally urged him to turn back.
Under the clear night sky, with the ancient road stretching behind him, Xie Tiao mounted his horse and said with a rueful smile, "This elder brother is useless. From now on, I leave our parents and Old Lady Xie in your care." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "But I’m worrying for nothing—you’ve always been more responsible than me. Even without my words, you’d do just fine."
Xie Qi’s throat tightened, and in the end, all he could manage was, "Elder Brother, take care of yourself."
Xie Tiao laughed heartily. "Don’t worry, I won’t die."
But despite his light tone, his expression soon turned solemn. After a moment’s thought, he motioned for Xie Qi to come closer and bent down from his horse to whisper, "In my room, the fourth tile under the bed is loose. Beneath it are the evidence I gathered years ago about the Xu family case—paid for with this broken hand of mine. Three years ago, I also tracked down two night watchmen who witnessed someone scaling the Xu family’s walls the night they were poisoned. But the very next day, a runaway horse trampled them to death in the inner city, along with other innocent vendors. The rider claimed it was an accident, and the matter was swept under the rug."
"If I return alive, like Marquis Bowang reopening the Silk Road, then forget what I’ve said—treat it as nonsense. But if…" Xie Tiao paused, then grinned and clapped his brother’s shoulder. "If word ever comes of my death, don’t forget this case. If you get the chance, carry on the investigation for me. Don’t let so many wronged souls go unavenged."
With that, he straightened, gave Xie Qi one last long look, tightened the reins with his one good hand, and spurred his horse westward like a shooting star—never looking back.
After Xie Tiao left, Xie Qi stood alone in the darkness for a long time.
Their parents and Old Lady Xie had wanted to see him off, but he had refused, saying he didn’t want a tearful farewell. He claimed he had already failed too many in this life—teachers, friends—and only wanted Ninth Brother to accompany him for this last stretch.
Perhaps he had planned it all along—sparing their parents further grief, saving these final words just for Xie Qi.
Thinking of Xie Tiao now, Xie Qi’s gaze returned to the kitten in Shen Miao’s arms, and his heart ached anew. His elder brother had kept two fat cats in his courtyard—lazy creatures that never caught mice, preferring to claw at bed curtains instead. As a result, every one of Xie Tiao’s bed curtains had been left tattered and frayed. Now that he was gone, the cats had been moved to Old Lady Xie’s courtyard. Xie Qi could only hope they wouldn’t reduce her curtains to the same state.
"Ugh, we’ve walked in circles and still haven’t found this kitten’s mother or any nursing cat willing to take it in. Maybe we could pay someone to let their cat nurse it for a while. What a headache," Shen Miao sighed.
Under the flickering night market lanterns, her furrowed brows looked like ripples reflecting moonlight—a beauty like flowers seen through water. Xie Qi glanced at her, then quickly averted his eyes, blurting out without thinking, "I have cats at home. Maybe I could foster it for a while, until it’s weaned, then return it to you."
Shen Miao brightened instantly. "Then I’ll shamelessly leave it in Ninth Brother’s care!"
The way her eyes curved into crescents made Xie Qi’s cheeks burn. He took the palm-sized kitten from her, stroking its tiny back absentmindedly. "What should we call it?"
"Ah, we just found it—no name yet." Shen Miao scratched her head sheepishly, then pointed at the dog at her feet. "I’m terrible at naming things. This mutt’s been with me so long and still doesn’t have a proper name."
Xie Qi thought for a moment, then smiled. "Since you already have Lei Ting (Thunder), why not name this one Zhui Feng (Chasing Wind)? That covers two of the Four Symbols—wind and thunder. As for this little one, with that golden patch on its forehead and stubby tail, let’s give it the fire element—how about Qi Lin (Kirin)?"
Shen Miao nodded eagerly. Finally, someone had given them proper names!
Now Aunt Li wouldn’t have to glare at her anymore.
After parting ways with Lady Shen, Xie Qi found himself cradling a kitten named Qilin in his arms. He gazed down at the little creature, which kept nuzzling into his chest, and gently poked its soft fur, murmuring to himself, "You're Lady Shen's cat, though you'll be staying with the Xie family for now. Since you belong to her, your full name shall be Shen Qilin. When you grow up, I’ll give you a courtesy name..."
The carriage rocked gently as it moved, and Zhou Da, who was accompanying him, overheard Ninth Brother's nonsensical mutterings and shook his head.
Old Lady Xie had been right—Ninth Brother truly seemed to have lost his wits.
Upon returning home, Xie Qi hurried to his grandmother’s courtyard in search of a nursing cat. But when he lifted the tails of the two plump felines there, he was stunned—both of his elder brother’s cats had round, furry sacs underneath. How could they both be male?
Old Lady Xie had been grieving over Third Brother’s sudden departure earlier, even sharing a tearful meal with Father Xie.
She had just been comforted by Lady Xi and was beginning to come to terms with her sorrow when Xie Qi’s misguided plan to find a nursing cat sent her into such fits of laughter that she nearly spat out her tea. Waving a trembling finger, she cackled, "Ninth Brother, oh Ninth Brother! Not only are these two toms, but even if there were a female cat, how could she produce milk without having given birth? You’ve never raised furry creatures before—utterly lacking common sense! Ah well, Nanny Yu, go prepare a bowl of my usual goat milk pudding. Let’s humor our Ninth Brother’s kindness!"
Relieved, Xie Qi carried the goat milk and the kitten back to his quarters, resigning himself to a sleepless night as a makeshift cat father.
The next morning, dark circles under his eyes, he was summoned by his mother, Lady Xi. His steps were unsteady from exhaustion—Shen Qilin meowed hungrily every hour and a half, forcing him to wake up repeatedly to feed it. At such a young age, he was already suffering the trials of parenthood.
When he entered, Lady Xi was still absorbed in her account books. Without looking up, she flicked her abacus beads and asked,
"I didn’t have time yesterday, but now I recall—how did your discussion with Lady Shen about the workshop go?"
Xie Qi stood frozen for a long moment before the memory surfaced. He smacked his forehead—his mind was still filled with incessant meowing. Meeting Lady Xi’s puzzled gaze, he smiled bitterly. "Lady Shen agreed immediately, but... she mentioned something about a 'firewall' and separating finances... I forgot the details..."
Lady Xi: "..."
Watching Xie Qi yawn uncontrollably, she sighed and closed her ledger. Fine, she’d go herself today.
Her son had been acting strangely lately—it was high time she found out what was really going on.
