Zong Yan woke up.
Meeting his elder brother’s concerned gaze, he suddenly remembered that day by the cliffside when he had asked his brother to help him find that girl.
Did he… ever find her?
"Zong Yan, are you feeling better now?" Zong Zhao examined him carefully, checking for any lingering effects. "Elder Feng has already removed the parasitic insect from your body. You won’t suffer from its torment anymore."
Zong Yan felt somewhat dazed. "The Divine Insect is gone?"
"Yes, it’s gone," Zong Zhao replied, then asked, "You knew it was the Divine Insect?"
Zong Yan gave a faint hum of acknowledgment. "Crown Prince Jin'an stole it from the palace. To this day, the royal court of You Country remains unaware that the Divine Insect was secretly swapped out long ago." He then scoffed bitterly. "A sacred relic passed down for centuries, used on me—what a waste of its power."
Zong Zhao countered, "Don’t say that. You are worthy. And it’s not just us who know it—Crown Prince Jin'an knew it too. That’s why he took such a great risk to steal the Divine Insect for you."
Zong Yan turned his face away, falling silent.
Unaccustomed to his coldness, Zong Zhao pressed further, "Zong Yan, do you have any other lingering issues? Or is there someone or something in You Country you’re still tied to? If so, I’ll take care of it for you."
Zong Yan shook his head slowly.
He had been alone in You Country, and now he would leave alone as well.
Zong Zhao exhaled slightly in relief and teased, "Then, do you want to see Mother? She’s missed you terribly, but she didn’t dare come, afraid it might upset you."
Zong Yan lowered his head, silent.
Zong Zhao understood.
Zong Yan didn’t want to.
Though his physical wounds had healed, the scars in his mind remained. He wasn’t ready to face others yet.
Zong Zhao reassured him gently, "It’s alright. Don’t force yourself. You can see her when you’re ready. Our family will always be there, waiting for you."
Zong Yan gradually lifted his gaze, his eyes timid, like a child’s, filled with envy. "Brother… you’ve become so good with words now."
While I… can’t even bring myself to speak.
Zong Zhao’s expression softened as he looked at him. "Your sister-in-law is very eloquent. I’ve learned a lot from her. Do you want to learn too? I can teach you again."
"No," Zong Yan murmured, lowering his head once more.
Like a wounded fawn, he retreated into his own world, shutting out the hands reaching for him.
Zong Zhao knew this had been his state for years. Recovery wouldn’t happen overnight. So he simply patted his younger brother’s shoulder and said, "Let’s eat. Good food brings good spirits—that’s something you once told me, remember?"
"Mm…"
Servants brought in the meal.
As usual, Zong Zhao served him, his patience unwavering.
Zong Yan felt a pang of guilt.
His brother had stayed by his side, even neglecting his wife who had just given birth. He hated being a burden, but he didn’t know how to fix it. It felt like… he might never recover.
"Brother, unlock the chains. I won’t run away again."
Zong Yan thought: I must trouble him less from now on.
"Alright." Zong Zhao removed the shackles from his ankles. Zong Yan got out of bed and sat at the table with him, eating like any normal pair of brothers.
Days passed like this.
Finally, Zong Yan couldn’t hold back any longer. As Zong Zhao extinguished the lamp and prepared to stay with him for the night, he asked, "Brother… do you remember what I said to you by the cliff?"
Zong Zhao’s brow lifted. He relit the lamp. "I remember."
Zong Yan’s heart sank. Disappointed, he whispered, "Then… you… didn’t find her?"
A faint smile touched Zong Zhao’s lips. "I found them."
Zong Yan’s downcast eyes snapped up. "Where?"
"In our home," Zong Zhao said. "The day you returned, she was standing beside Mother. Didn’t you notice?"
Zong Yan’s lips parted slightly. He shook his head. "I… I was only thinking of running then. I didn’t even look properly at Mother. She… she’s in the manor? Who is she?"
Zong Zhao finished for him. "She is Chancellor Yan’s daughter, Yan Suxue. I’ve already overturned Chancellor Yan’s unjust case, allowing her to reclaim her name and live freely again. And now, she is your lawful wife—the mother of your firstborn son."
"Firstborn son?" Zong Yan’s eyes widened.
It was the most animated expression he had shown in the months since his return, the closest to his old self.
Zong Zhao smiled. "Yes. You have a son together. His name is Zong Wenxiu. He’s fourteen now."
Zong Yan: "…"
He shook his head in disbelief.
Zong Zhao suggested, "Wenxiu takes after his mother in looks, but his mannerisms resemble yours. If you see him, you’ll recognize it. Should I call him here?"
Zong Yan panicked, grabbing his sleeve. "No… don’t. I can’t face him."
Zong Zhao frowned. "Why not?"
Zong Yan’s expression was complicated.
He had thought himself alone, but not only did he have a wife—he had a son. A son born from his… mistake fourteen years ago.
His head bowed in shame, he muttered, "She was a good girl, and I ruined her life. Because of me, Father and Mother must have suffered disgrace across the capital. I… I don’t even know why I did such a thing. I wasn’t in my right mind…"
Zong Zhao clasped his shoulder firmly. "Zong Yan, don’t think like that. Your wife and son love you dearly. Father and Mother are only grateful for Wenxiu’s existence. There was a time when Father nearly gave up—it was Wenxiu who cared for him and helped him endure. None of us blame you. We’ve all been waiting for you to heal, so our family can be whole again. Do you understand?"
Zong Yan’s eyes reddened. He nodded, voice choked. "I understand. I’ll… I’ll try my best to get better."
"Sleep now. Things will feel lighter in the morning."
The next day, Zong Yan woke to find his brother gone.
A wave of panic seized him. He threw off the covers—the room was deathly silent, the loneliness unbearable.
Knock, knock.
Zong Yan hurried to the door. "Brother, where did you—"
His words died as he saw not Zong Zhao, but a boy of thirteen or fourteen. Tall for his age, with a scholar’s grace and fair complexion, it was clear he had been raised well.
In his hands, Zong Wenxiu carried a breakfast tray. His eyes brightened at the sight of Zong Yan, and a warm smile curved his lips as he greeted, "Good morning, Father."
Before this, his father had been too ill to even see Grandmother. He had wanted to visit, but his mother had stopped him, saying he shouldn’t trouble Uncle Zong Zhao.
But now, the parasitic insect was gone.
And Uncle had come to fetch him personally, saying Father wished to see him.
Zong Wenxiu had always been curious about his father. Standing at the door, his hands trembled so much he nearly dropped the tray. Only when he steadied himself did he knock, forcing an air of calm.
Hearing that word—Father—Zong Yan froze, his mind blank.
What had the boy just called him?
Father?
Could this be… the son Zong Zhao spoke of last night—Zong Wenxiu?
