Ye Jingchuan didn’t even see how Ye Chutang made her move.
A cold glint flashed, and his neck was slit.
The sharp pain jolted through him as his eyes widened in terror, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat.
He touched his neck—his hand came away wet with blood.
“What are you doing?”
Ye Chutang sheathed the bloodstained dagger and wiped it clean on Ye Jingchuan’s luxurious robes.
“Father, why so nervous? It’s just a scratch. The wound will heal soon. I merely wanted to show you how killing often comes when least expected.”
With that, she patted Ye Jingchuan’s shoulder with a smile.
“Don’t worry. No matter how much I hate you, I won’t commit patricide.”
She would only scheme to ruin him!
Clutching his bleeding neck, Ye Jingchuan gritted his teeth. “Madwoman!”
“Flattered. Now, if there’s nothing else, hurry along. Don’t interrupt my grape-eating.”
“How did you return?”
Ye Chutang popped a grape into her mouth.
“Didn’t I already explain when the Dali Temple officials questioned me? I don’t know. Prince Chen was overpowered by the assassins, and just as he was about to be killed, I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, I was back in my bedchamber.”
Ye Jingchuan stared hard into Ye Chutang’s eyes.
“‘Ghost Thief’—why would he save you? Do you realize associating with him could bring disaster upon the Minister’s Mansion?”
Ye Chutang picked up the dagger from the table and toyed with it.
The cold gleam reflected into Ye Jingchuan’s eyes again and again, nearly blinding him.
“I was almost dead—I had no mind to care about the Minister’s Mansion. As for why ‘Ghost Thief’ saved me, go ask him yourself.”
Seeing he’d get no answers, Ye Jingchuan rubbed his eyes and stood to leave.
“Chu’er, hold off on the imperial petition. Wait until the Dali Temple—”
Before he could finish, Steward Chen hurried into Ningchu Courtyard.
“Master, Prince An’s Son is here. He has urgent business with you.”
Ye Jingchuan guessed Zhao Qingshu had come about the petition.
“Have the young master wait in the main hall. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, Master.”
Once Steward Chen left, Ye Jingchuan resumed his earlier words.
“Chu’er, Prince An is the Emperor’s own brother. Filing a petition would embarrass His Majesty—don’t do something so foolish. Ling’er is about to marry. Behave yourself.”
With that, he left.
Ye Chutang dismissed his words like wind and kept eating her grapes.
Just then, Jun’er, who had been hiding behind the main door, ran over with a handkerchief in hand.
“Elder Sister, let me clean your dagger.”
Ye Chutang handed him a grape and asked curiously, “I nearly killed Father just now. Aren’t you afraid?”
“No. Jun’er knows whatever Elder Sister does, there’s always a reason.”
“Why do you trust me so much?”
From their first meeting, Jun’er had shown her immense kindness.
Now, he was practically her devoted little follower.
Jun’er peeled a grape and held it to Ye Chutang’s lips, his large eyes bright and earnest.
“Because Elder Sister saved me.”
She hadn’t just saved his life—she’d rescued him from despair.
He adored his elder sister and wanted to cherish her forever!
From birth till now, she was the first to care for him without ulterior motives.
Father’s affection was superficial—otherwise, he wouldn’t have failed to notice in five years that Jun’er’s frailty wasn’t natural but inflicted!
Nor would he have missed that Jun’er wasn’t even his son!
Unaware of Jun’er’s thoughts, Ye Chutang ate the grape he offered and handed him the dagger.
“It’s yours. Once you’re stronger, I’ll teach you martial arts.”
“Jun’er will listen to Elder Sister.”
“Go study now. I want you to master both literature and martial arts—to protect yourself, save others, and discern right from wrong.”
Jun’er gripped the dagger tightly. “Elder Sister, I’ll work hard.”
“But remember—health comes first. Everything else is secondary.”
“Elder Sister comes first. Everything else is secondary.”
With that, Jun’er hugged the dagger and returned to the main hall, asking Le’er to teach him.
Ye Chutang watched the setting sun, her lips curving.
“The skies of Beichen Kingdom will clear one day.”
Dan’er, returning from the kitchen with vegetables, overheard and glanced at the sunset in confusion.
Wasn’t the weather perfectly clear today?
Though puzzled, she didn’t ask and went to cook instead.
Ye Chutang turned away, ready to practice martial arts, when Steward Chen returned.
“Young Miss, the Master requests your presence in the main hall. Prince An’s Son wishes to see you.”
“I don’t want to see him.”
“Young Miss, his status is noble. You cannot refuse.”
Ye Chutang scoffed. “Oh, but I will. What can he do? If he wants to see me, fine—five thousand taels for a meeting. If he can’t pay, tell him to scram!”
Steward Chen was long used to her audacity.
“Young Miss, don’t speak recklessly. Disrespecting the imperial family is a crime.”
“Imperial family? Are you implying Zhao Qingshu is the Emperor’s son? Rumor has it Prince An prefers men—perhaps His Majesty is just helping his brother out.”
Steward Chen nearly fainted from terror.
“This old servant meant no such thing!”
Before she could finish, he scrambled away in panic.
Soon, Steward Chen returned.
“Young Miss, here are the five thousand taels you requested. Please accept them.”
The silver notes came from Ye Jingchuan.
Ye Chutang pocketed them and headed to the main hall.
The moment Zhao Qingshu saw her enter, he bowed in apology.
“Our hospitality was lacking. My apologies for frightening you, Miss Ye.”
Ye Chutang clicked her tongue. “Lacking? Prince An’s estate didn’t just fail to host—it tried to kill me!”
“Miss Ye, please understand—this was a misunderstanding. Those assassins weren’t sent by Prince An’s household.”
“Oh? Then how did they hang such a massive cage in the guest chamber to trap me? And the assassins hiding there weren’t just one or two—there were over a dozen!”
Zhao Qingshu bristled at her arrogance but swallowed his anger. He needed her cooperation.
“Miss Ye, with so many guests today, most guards were stationed in the front courtyard and gardens. The oversight in the guest quarters gave villains an opening. I sincerely apologize.”
He bowed deeply again.
Ye Chutang waited for him to straighten, then extended her hand.
“If you’re here to apologize, where’s the compensation?”
Zhao Qingshu: “...”
“Miss Ye, I came in haste and forgot to prepare a gift. I’ll deliver it another day.”
Ye Chutang withdrew her hand with a meaningful hum.
“How insincere. Forget the gift—I’m filing that petition.”
Seeing her unyielding, Zhao Qingshu’s face darkened.
“Miss Ye, must you be so ruthless?”
“Dropping the act already? How impatient.”
The words made Zhao Qingshu seethe while Ye Jingchuan massaged his temples.
“Chu’er, mind your manners with the young master!”
He pulled Ye Chutang into a seat and poured her tea.
“The young master is here to resolve this. Speak properly.”
Ye Chutang eyed the steaming cup.
No guessing needed—this tea was definitely drugged.
She pushed it toward Ye Jingchuan.
“Father, drink this, and I’ll talk nicely.”
