Shi Yuanping stood up and staggered over, tilting his head back to look at him.
Shi Yuanping opened the paper packet. Inside were several pieces of osmanthus candy, golden-yellow and giving off a sweet fragrance.
“Want one?” Shi Yuanping asked, holding a piece of candy to Shi Huai’s lips with a smile.
Shi Huai hesitated, then opened his mouth and bit off a small piece.
It was sweet—very sweet. The sweetness made his eyes narrow.
Watching his expression, Shi Yuanping smiled. There was an indescribable gentleness in that smile, completely different from the usual, perfunctory one.
“Is it good?” Shi Yuanping asked.
Shi Huai nodded and reached out to grab another piece from the packet.
Shi Yuanping handed the packet to him, then sat down on the stone bench and watched Shi Huai clumsily unwrap the candy and stuff it into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out like a little hamster’s.
“Little fellow, do you know why your father named you Shi Huai?” Shi Yuanping suddenly asked, his voice very soft.
Shi Huai raised his head, the candy still in his mouth, and gave a muffled “Ah?”
“Huai means ‘by the water,’ and it’s also a surname.” Shi Yuanping’s gaze drifted toward the old plum tree, his expression somewhat distant.
“But your father probably didn’t think that deeply when he gave you the name. He just picked a character at random.”
Shi Huai thought to himself, I know that. You told me last time.
“But I think it’s a pretty good name.” Shi Yuanping lowered his head and looked into Shi Huai’s eyes.
“There’s a story about the banks of the Huai River. Would you like to hear it?”
Still sucking on the candy, Shi Huai nodded.
“A long time ago, there was a young man who lived in poverty but had great ambitions. One day, he rescued a girl who had fallen into the Huai River. She was the daughter of a wealthy local family, and to repay him, she married him.”
Shi Yuanping’s voice was soft—so soft that it sounded as though he were telling a story from a distant age.
“Later, the young man passed the imperial examinations and became an official, rising all the way to the capital. But after he became successful, he began to think his wife, who had shared his hardships, was beneath him. So he married a young lady from an eminent family.”
As Shi Huai listened, he began to feel that something was not quite right about the story.
“The first wife was neglected and died of sorrow. Before she died, she left him with these words.” Shi Yuanping’s voice trembled faintly.
“‘The waters of the Huai run clear, but the human heart runs foul. Once, you saved me from the water. Now, I drown you in my heart.’”
Shi Huai froze.
However he looked at it, this story did not sound like an ordinary folk tale.
Shi Yuanping stood up and brushed the dust from the hem of his robe. He lowered his head to look at Shi Huai, a meaningful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Little fellow, do you think that first wife hated him?”
Shi Huai did not know how to answer. He also did not know why Shi Yuanping had told him this story.
All he could do was tilt his head back and stare into his second uncle’s eyes. Too many things churned within them—things he could not understand.
“Forget it. You’re barely a year old. Why am I telling you all this?” Shi Yuanping shook his head, turned around, and walked away.
Shi Huai stood in the courtyard, clutching the half-eaten piece of osmanthus candy in his hand. His thoughts kept circling back to that story.
The waters of the Huai run clear, but the human heart runs foul.
Time passed quickly—so quickly that before Shi Huai had a chance to fully consider what the story meant, he was already four years old.
Four-year-old Shi Huai was almost unrecognizable compared with the baby he had been at birth.
The birthmark on his face had completely disappeared, revealing the fair, smooth skin beneath.
His features had also begun to take shape. He had delicate brows and eyes, a straight nose, and lips that were neither too thin nor too full.
When he smiled, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, giving him an indescribable liveliness.
Every day, Qinghe looked at him and could not help sighing. “Young Master, you’re truly handsome now. You look completely different from when you were little.”
Shi Huai stood before the bronze mirror and examined the little face reflected in it. He was quite pleased with himself.
He was still a long way from being stunning, but at least he was now a fair and adorable little boy.
“Ding! Current appearance rating: 47. Birthmark area reduced by 100%. Skin evenness increased by 78%. Facial symmetry increased by 45%. Estimated time required to reach 50 points—‘passably pleasing’: three months.”
Shi Huai blinked at his reflection. He thought that in another three months, he would finally be upgraded to “passably pleasing.”
At four years old, Shi Huai had not only grown into his features; he had also become much more articulate.
In front of outsiders, however, he always spoke slowly, forcing each word out one at a time like a little stutterer.
Only around Qinghe and Nanny Wang did he speak more naturally.
“Qinghe, what are we having today?” Shi Huai sat on the threshold, swinging his short legs as he watched Qinghe hang laundry in the courtyard.
“Your favorite steamed egg custard, along with vegetable porridge,” Qinghe replied without turning around, never pausing in her work.
“Steamed egg custard again? I’m sick of it,” Shi Huai muttered, pouting.
Qinghe turned around and planted her hands on her hips, looking every inch like a little adult. “You little squirt, you’ve already learned to be picky? Steamed egg custard is so nutritious! Nanny Wang made it especially for you, and you still have the nerve to complain?”
Shi Huai pursed his lips but said no more.
He knew Qinghe meant well, but after eating steamed egg custard every day for three years, he really was getting tired of it.
Over the past three years, Shi Yuanping had spent less and less time at the estate.
Sometimes he would not return for three or five days. Other times, half a month would pass before he showed his face.
Whenever he came back, he brought Shi Huai some little trinket. Sometimes it was a packet of candy, sometimes a clay figurine, and sometimes a picture book.
But he rarely spoke to Shi Huai. He would simply sit on the stone bench in the courtyard and quietly watch Shi Huai play, his eyes always carrying something impossible to put into words.
Shi Huai had tried talking to him before, asking where he had gone and what he had been doing.
Shi Yuanping would always smile and say, “That’s grown-up business. Children shouldn’t ask.”
Shi Huai knew very well that whatever his second uncle was doing outside, it was definitely not as simple as he claimed.
During those three years, occasional news also arrived from the Marquis’s residence.
In the end, Madam Liu had not dared to seek a divorce, but she had not quieted down either. Every few days, she would cause another uproar, throwing the entire household into chaos.
Grand Madam’s back injury had taken half a year to heal, but given her advanced age, her health had deteriorated considerably. She rarely involved herself in the household’s affairs anymore.
Marquis Shi Yuanzhi remained exactly as he had always been, hiding in his study and refusing to come out. He left all the household matters to the steward and Madam Liu, making himself a complete hands-off lord.
Shi Yuanping was the one who brought back all this news. Whenever he spoke of the Marquis’s residence, his tone was flat, as though he were talking about someone else’s family.
But Shi Huai noticed that after mentioning the affairs of the marquis’s household, Shi Yuanping would always fall silent for a long time. He would stare blankly into the distance, lost in thoughts no one could guess.
On Shi Huai’s fourth birthday, Shi Yuanping unexpectedly did not go out. Instead, he had Nanny Wang prepare a table full of dishes and even made Shi Huai a bowl of longevity noodles.
Qinghe placed a poached egg on top of the noodles. Its yolk was golden-yellow and looked utterly appetizing.
