"Tch, you stingy thing, what's the big deal about calling me 'brother'? Fine, fine, don't call me then. I'll help you anyway!"
In truth, when Xie Lin was in his teens, every trial under his foster father's command had to be completed alone. No matter how dire the situation, no one would come to his aid.
His foster father had over a hundred "adopted sons," and each of them faced the same fate—surviving alone or dying alone.
But dreams are not reality; they are the deepest desires of the heart.
Wen Lin descended from the sky, appearing before Xie Lin.
No—at this time, Xie Lin wasn't called Xie Lin yet. He was called Xie Shiyi.
Wen Lin's personality was like that of a little monkey. Xie Shiyi couldn't understand how someone could act so carefree in the hellish training grounds of their foster father.
Even Wen Lin's favorite food was the same as a monkey's—he loved peaches.
Wen Lin often said that if he ever made it out alive, he would live in a peach grove.
When the peaches ripened, he would lie under the trees every day, waiting for them to fall from the branches straight into his mouth.
Perhaps because Jiang Yunshu had asked earlier why both their names contained the character "Lin," Xie Lin quickly dreamed of this scene.
Originally, Xie Lin was called Xie Shiyi, and Wen Lin was called Wen Qi.
Their foster father named them based on the order in which they were "adopted," using numbers. As for their surnames, he randomly pointed at names from the Hundred Family Surnames with his eyes closed.
Once, Wen Qi and Xie Shiyi were ordered by their foster father to exterminate an entire family.
In that household, there was a young master who was dearly loved by his family—his name was Gu Lin… or was it Lu Lin?
Xie Shiyi couldn't remember. He never bothered to memorize the names of those destined to die.
When Wen Qi and Xie Shiyi carried out the massacre, the entire family used their lives to protect that young master.
Of course, in the end, the young master still fell beneath their swords.
But Wen Qi was deeply envious.
He took the young master's name and gave himself a new one—Wen Lin.
Wen Qi secretly told Xie Shiyi, his closest friend.
When Xie Shiyi heard it, he scoffed.
"His name sounded nice, but he still died by our swords."
"You think his name is beautiful and yours is ugly."
"But now you're alive, and he's dead."
"What's the point of taking the name of someone who died by your blade?"
Besides, Xie Shiyi didn’t think his or Wen Qi’s names were ugly at all.
Wen Qi shook his head vigorously. "They’re awful! Wen Qi—sounds like 'sick chicken'!"
"Wen Lin is so much better—it sounds like a mighty hero!"
Later, the mighty hero died by Xie Shiyi’s sword.
After that, Xie Shiyi planted peach trees all over the cliff where the monkey-like hero was buried.
The small grave sat right at the edge of the cliff. The branches of the peach trees stretched outward, and when the peaches ripened, they would tumble down the cliff.
And later still, Xie Shiyi changed his name to Xie Lin.
"Xie Lin… Xie Lin…"
In his dream, Xie Lin heard someone calling his name—the voice both near and far.
A cool hand brushed across his forehead, replacing the damp cloth there.
The icy touch felt soothing, so Xie Lin reached up and grasped that hand.
Jiang Yunshu’s fingers were suddenly caught in Xie Lin’s feverish grip. She tried to pull away gently but couldn’t free herself.
She looked down and saw Xie Lin’s exquisitely beautiful hands—his nails neatly trimmed, their deep pink hue from the fever making his skin appear even paler.
It suddenly struck Jiang Yunshu that this was the first time she and Xie Lin had held hands.
They had already done far more intimate things, so many times she’d lost count.
But simply holding hands like this, fingers intertwined, palms pressed together—doing nothing else—was completely new.
The imperial physician and palace attendants were all in the room. Dawn light seeped through the windows, illuminating everything clearly.
Yet Jiang Yunshu felt no embarrassment.
Xie Lin was lying here, burning with fever because of her. Jiang Yunshu refused to stand by and do nothing.
With Xie Lin unconscious, some matters couldn’t be delayed—evidence might disappear if she waited too long.
Her voice firm, Jiang Yunshu ordered, "Arrest all the guards responsible for clearing the path and scattering the snake-repellent powder."
She would uncover the truth behind the snake attack.
Jiang Yunshu knew Xie Lin had a few utterly loyal subordinates—people he trusted without question.
Like his shadow guards.
Thanks to her gossip sessions, Jiang Yunshu had grown familiar with them. Now, with Xie Lin unconscious, she took charge, sending the guards to investigate the site of the snake incident.
"Be thorough," she instructed. "If you notice anything unusual, no matter how small or inexplicable, report it to me immediately."
The guards responded in unison.
Jiang Yunshu shook her head. "I don’t need all of you on this task."
"There’s more to do."
She assigned two guards to search for clues around the snake encounter.
Another pair was sent back to Weiyang Palace with a message. Xie Lin hadn’t brought all his guards to Wushan—some remained at the palace, trusted men.
Jiang Yunshu secretly relayed the news of Xie Lin’s illness delaying their return.
Xie Lin had planned to go back in three days, but now it was unclear when he’d recover. He’d only made arrangements for a three-day absence.
If no word was sent, chaos would erupt in the palace once those three days passed.
For every task, Jiang Yunshu paired two guards together. That way, if one harbored ill intent, the other would notice.
If both were traitors… well, then Xie Lin had trusted the wrong people, and there was nothing to be done about it.
The guards dispersed to carry out their orders.
Jiang Yunshu then organized shifts for the remaining guards and maids. Initially, they’d only planned to stay two nights, so no rotation was needed. Now that their stay was extended, a proper schedule was necessary.
She spent half the day arranging duty rotations for the palace staff, cooks, and others before finally allowing herself a moment to breathe.
Just then, the two guards she’d sent to inspect the snake site returned.
They reported finding no signs of human interference. However, the snake-repellent powder along a stretch of the path leading to the incident site had been sparsely scattered—a pattern that continued all the way to the mountaintop.
Jiang Yunshu’s expression darkened.
Her earlier suspicion had stemmed from the flat boulder where she’d been bitten—its height was perfect for sitting, like a natural chair.
After the snake bit her, Xie Lin had seated her there to suck the venom from her ankle. The height was just right.
If this wasn’t a coincidence but a deliberate trap, the spot had been chosen precisely because it invited weary hikers to rest.
Who wouldn’t pause for a moment when they saw such a convenient resting place after a long climb?
If poisonous snakes were placed nearby, the longer they rested, the higher the chance of being bitten!
Driven by this suspicion, Jiang Yunshu acted decisively, ordering the guards who had been scattering the medicinal powder along the path to be bound.
Now, the shadow guards had discovered that the powder was noticeably sparser along this stretch of the road—another piece of evidence suggesting the snake encounter might not have been accidental!
"Who was responsible for scattering the powder along this section?" Jiang Yunshu demanded.
Soon, a guard with his hands tied was brought before her.
The guard kowtowed and pleaded his innocence: "Lady Jiang, I beg you to see reason! The powder ran thin because too much had been used earlier. By the time we reached this stretch, there was barely any left—even if I’d wanted to scatter more, I couldn’t conjure it out of thin air..."
"I thought that since we were already close to the mountaintop, and the estate at the summit is maintained year-round by servants, the path would carry enough human presence to deter snakes..."
"I admit negligence in my duty, but I swear I never intended to harm you or Xie Lin!"
Jiang Yunshu recognized the pleading guard. There were few among Xie Lin’s retinue she remembered, and the fact that this one stood out meant he was likely a trusted aide.
She confirmed this with Lichun and found it to be true.
Now, how should she deal with him?
After a moment’s contemplation, Jiang Yunshu made her decision. With Xie Lin unconscious, she could seize the chance to investigate—but she couldn’t overstep by punishing his men. She couldn’t verify the guard’s claims, nor could she subject him to interrogation.
In the end, she ordered him confined under rotating guard surveillance to prevent escape, message-sending, or suicide.
Once Xie Lin recovered, he would decide the man’s fate.
And if Xie Lin never woke... well, then none of it would matter. They’d all perish together.
Suddenly, another possibility struck her.
Was it really just a coincidence that they’d been bitten when the snake-repelling powder ran low?
It was possible—but too convenient.
What if someone had tampered with the powder? What if, along this stretch, the repellent had been swapped for an attractant?
After all, the powders looked identical. Their effects—whether driving snakes away or luring them—couldn’t be discerned by sight alone.
Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner?
Regret gnawed at her. The snakebite, Xie Lin sucking out the venom, her own recovery after taking medicine while he burned with fever—it had all happened too fast, leaving her no time to think clearly.
She took a deep breath, forcing the self-reproach aside. What was done couldn’t be undone. All she could do now was act.
Jiang Yunshu ordered guards to collect any remaining powder from the final stretch of the path, working in teams.
If the powder had indeed been tampered with, the culprit might not dare retrieve it—too risky, too easily caught!
Putting herself in their shoes, she reasoned that she wouldn’t bother reclaiming the evidence. First, few would suspect a powder swap. Second, wind and rain would soon erase all traces naturally.
Of course, she might be overthinking everything.
Perhaps the guard was innocent, the powder untouched, and the snakebite mere misfortune.
But now that the idea had taken root, she had to act.
"Gather any visible powder," she commanded. "Where none remains, dig up soil from where it was scattered and preserve it."
The guards obeyed.
As expected, some traces of powder remained in places, while others had vanished entirely.
Jiang Yunshu carefully stored both powder and soil samples, labeling each with its exact origin.
She didn’t know modern toxicology methods or the powder’s composition, but perhaps even soil permeated with remnants could be analyzed back at the palace.
Xie Lin’s martial and medical prowess—like his acupuncture technique that had left her blind for three days—surpassed even lost modern knowledge.
Since her transmigration, Jiang Yunshu had learned that while antiquity had its backwardness, it also held forgotten marvels. Ancient scholars might well decipher the powder’s nature from contaminated earth.
Regardless, preserving the evidence kept hope alive.
She made no effort to conceal her actions—if anything, she flaunted them.
Let thieves come, let saboteurs try to switch the samples—she’d stationed watchers precisely for that.
Catching one red-handed would unravel the entire scheme.
Xiazhi and Xiaoman stared in awe at Jiang Yunshu’s swift, methodical maneuvers.
Having served her for over a year, this was the first time they’d seen her so proactive—and always thinking three steps ahead!
Where they saw accident, she saw conspiracy.
Where they hesitated over the guard’s plea, she questioned the powder itself.
When they assumed she’d sent samples for later analysis, they learned she’d set a trap instead.
Time and again, they marveled: how had they missed their mistress’s brilliance?
All this time, they’d only known her to eat, sleep, and dance...
Taoye and Zhezhi recognized the maids’ expressions—they’d worn them once too.
First, they’d thought their lady lazy.
Then, they’d realized she was sharp.
Finally, they understood: she was sharp but chose laziness.
She rationed her intellect, deploying it only to clear obstacles... so she could return to idleness.
Jiang Yunshu herself felt she’d done little. As Xie Lin’s woman, she’d borrowed fragments of his authority during his incapacity.
But she’d been careful—preparing evidence for his eventual recovery, never overstepping.
Most of her hours were spent at his sickbed.
Day and night, she tended to him, administering medicine and spoonfuls of broth.
She kept fresh water at hand, cooling his fever with damp cloths until the heat broke.
