"Doctor, has my father been feeling unwell these past few days?"
A familiar voice rang out—it was Song Shihuan, standing behind the fence, carefully inquiring about Song Yu's condition from the physicians. The urgency in her tone was nearly palpable.
In an instant, Song Yu withdrew his hand inside the room. Song Yanchao's face quickly paled again. Song Yu's eyes darkened with malice—he wanted Song Yanchao to be ruined, despised by all, left to suffer in misery, unable to live or die. Simply strangling him would be far too merciful.
"Your Highness, the prince has been well these past days. He’s only been eating lightly. He had his midday meal an hour ago and should be resting now," the physician replied cautiously. "The Second Imperial Grandson’s condition has also improved. The epidemic should not spread further."
"That’s good."
Song Shihuan glanced at the closed door, hesitating before finally walking away, looking back every few steps.
"Baoxia, send some of our people to spread the word in crowded places—how my father risked his own safety to personally care for Song Yanchao."
Something felt off to Song Shihuan. Why would her father go to such lengths for Song Yanchao?
As if he deserved it.
"Yes, I’ll arrange it at once."
"If we’re going to do something, we might as well ensure it leaves a good reputation."
Recalling the physician’s words, Song Shihuan’s expression darkened. She abruptly changed direction and headed toward the estate’s small kitchen.
Several hours later, a group of generals stood in the courtyard, exchanging uneasy glances.
"Liuxi, perhaps you could go to the kitchen and call for Her Highness?" Hou Zhiyuan smiled ingratiatingly. "I’d like to report on the floodwater situation."
"Hasn’t the flood already receded?" Gu Mingning chimed in. "I was hoping to report on the reconstruction of damaged houses."
"Just rebuild according to regulations, no?" Gu Zheng interjected bluntly. "I still have to report on the refugee resettlement."
With that, they all turned expectantly to Liuxi.
"Gentlemen, please don’t make things difficult for this servant."
Liuxi wore a pained expression. "I haven’t even reported on the epidemic prevention measures yet. But before entering the kitchen, Her Highness said that unless it’s an emergency, we should wait until she comes out."
"Fine."
Reluctantly, the men dispersed. In just a few days, Song Shihuan had become their pillar of support. They all longed to speak with her a little longer—it was the only thing that eased their minds.
Gu Mingning paused before leaving. "Could you at least tell us what Her Highness is doing in the kitchen? Maybe we can help?"
"The prince hasn’t had much appetite lately."
The moment Liuxi said this, Gu Zheng’s face turned green.
He had a daughter too—he wasn’t jealous of the prince!
Just then—
Boom!
A deafening explosion erupted from the kitchen. Gu Zheng and the others paled before rushing inside.
A short while later, they all stood frozen, staring at Song Shihuan, whose face and nose were smeared with soot. They lowered their heads, desperately suppressing their laughter.
"Today was... just an accident."
Song Shihuan’s cheeks burned crimson, her expression uncharacteristically flustered.
"Yes, yes, just an accident!"
As the others echoed her words, Song Shihuan’s neck flushed pink, her ears turning translucent with embarrassment. She bolted into her room.
How utterly humiliating!
......
Two days later, thanks to Song Shihuan’s efforts, a plate of vividly colored pastries was presented to Song Yu.
"I’m not hungry," Song Yu said listlessly, not even looking up.
"Your Highness, these... these were made by Her Highness herself."
At this, Song Yu’s head snapped up. "A-Huan made these?"
"I heard she burned down two kitchens to make them," the physician muttered, his lips twitching. Even from a distance, he could smell the pastries’ peculiar aroma.
The next moment, slender, pale fingers picked up a pastry.
To the physician’s astonishment, Song Yu devoured every last one at an alarming speed, then spoke in the gentlest tone the physician had ever heard:
"Tell A-Huan her pastries were delicious."
Burning down kitchens?
Even if she burned down the entire Qin Prince's Mansion, he’d rebuild it for her.
"How much longer until Song Yanchao recovers? His fever’s already gone," Song Yu’s voice turned cold again. "If he’s well, there’s no need for isolation. We’re short on labor—once he’s better, send him out to work."
"Two more days. He’ll be fine in two more days."
That night, Song Yanchao woke up.
The moment he opened his eyes and saw Song Yu sitting by his bed, he shuddered, instinctively shrinking back.
"Yanchao, why so frightened to see me?"
"Uncle, you jest." Song Yanchao couldn’t explain his sudden fear—only that Song Yu’s gaze felt like a blade against his skin.
"After watching over you for days, you’re finally awake."
Song Yu now wore the demeanor of a kindly elder. "Get up and move around. Lying down too long will stiffen your limbs."
And so, the barely recovered Song Yanchao was dragged outside by Song Yu.
A cold wind blew, making Song Yanchao tremble violently.
"Cold?"
"N-No..."
"Good. Stay out longer then."
Song Yu gazed up at the sky. The full moon from days ago had waned, casting a pale glow.
Song Yanchao stole glances at him.
Some men appeared calm—but were already mad.
......
The next day, once Song Yanchao was confirmed recovered, the fences were removed.
Song Shihuan sprinted toward Song Yu, throwing herself into his arms and scrutinizing him from head to toe, as if afraid he’d lost a single hair.
"A-Huan, I’m fine."
Song Yu clasped her warm hands, overwhelmed with relief.
How wonderful—A-Huan hadn’t ended up in the Ping Manor as in his dreams. Instead, she was his daughter.
His gaze flicked to Song Yanchao, and a cruel smile curled his lips.
"Yanchao, now that you’re well, join the soldiers in repairing houses and planting seedlings for the people."
Song Yanchao’s eyes widened in disbelief.
"What? Do you find such work beneath you?"
"Of course not, Uncle! It’s just—"
"I knew you cared for the people. It’s settled then—you’ll start working with the others today."
Song Yu gave him no chance to refuse, effectively cornering him.
Once the crowd dispersed, Song Yu turned to Liuxi:
"Assign him the filthiest, hardest labor."
