Chapter Forty: I’ll Stand in for You

Shadow Guard Tower of the Warlord’s Residence—The Ye brothers were all indifferent. By now, they could not recall how many times the Warlord’s consort had left the residence, and yet this time, the Warlord did not command the Shadow Guard Tower to search for her.

Inside Listening Wind Pavilion, Chu Jiu asked in puzzlement, “My lord, you won’t have the Shadow Guard Tower search for the consort?”

“With Ye Jiu following, she won’t get lost,” Feng Jinye replied, a trace of vexation clouding his heart. He sipped his tea lightly, his tone calm.

Chu Jiu speculated inwardly that his lord must be terribly anxious. Whenever the consort disappeared, the Warlord would pace in circles with worry.

As if he could hear Chu Jiu’s thoughts, Feng Jinye spoke, “Every time, it’s only because she wants me to find her that I do.”

This time, Feng Jinye thought, she likely would not let herself be found so easily. Let Ye Jiu follow for now, give her time to settle her heart—meanwhile, he needed to uncover the truth behind the letter.

His slender fingers tapped silently on his teacup as he instructed Chu Jiu, “Have Ye Jiu obtain the letter with handwriting resembling mine.”

Outside the old residence of Tail Spoon in Luandu, Dongnuan spotted the carrier pigeon from the Shadow Guard Tower and shook her head with a sigh. Chu Jiu and Ye Jiu were hopelessly inept—it was laughable that she could spot the pigeon.

Tail Spoon Qingyu emerged and patted Dongnuan’s shoulder. “Perhaps Chu Jiu let you see it on purpose.”

Perched in the tree, Ye Jiu whistled to halt the pigeon, retrieved the note, and resignedly jumped down to hand it to Tail Spoon Qingyu.

But Qingyu did not take the note. Instead, she drew a letter from her sleeve. “This letter is important.”

Her gaze lingered on the character “Luo” on the envelope. “Deliver it yourself.”

Ye Jiu paused—this task seemed almost too easy. Seeing Ye Jiu’s hesitation, Dongnuan stepped forward, grabbed his collar, intending to throw him back, but found herself embarrassed—he was no longer a child she could lift.

In the past, Dongnuan was the matriarch of the Shadow Guard Tower, but in a blink, these unruly boys had grown.

She released him, patted his shoulder. “Jiu’er, think about it—if you and I were to fight, and it reached the Warlord and the consort, do you think the consort, with her fiercely protective nature, would the Warlord indulge it, or indulge it, or indulge it?”

Dongnuan emphasized “protective,” making Ye Jiu’s scalp tingle.

“Sister Dong, Ye Jiu will deliver the letter to the Warlord at once!” With that, a shadow vanished in an instant.

Tail Spoon’s aunt came out, looking at Qingyu and the others. “Qingyu, now that you’ve sent the Shadow Guards away, where are we going?”

Qingyu had spent days observing the area around the old residence, most often gazing at the lake before them. Her aunt’s call drew her back to the present. “Aunt, let’s escort Rui’er and Lu Yanran to the Duke’s residence first.”

Her aunt was taken aback—Qingyu was taking her back to Yue?

“Qingyu, you…” The question died on her lips.

Qingyu knew her aunt had guessed her intentions. “Aunt, I will do everything in my power to protect the Tail Spoon family. From now on, whether fortune or calamity, we will face it together.”

Her aunt, knowing her niece’s temperament, could not help but remind her, “Qingyu, I once told you—too much strength can break.”

Qingyu gazed at the lake, the phrase “too much strength can break” echoing in her heart.

Xuechun readied the carriage, Qingsummer packed her aunt’s belongings, and called, “Miss, it’s time to depart!”

Qingyu suddenly turned, urgent. “Qingsummer, bring Rui’er for a lake outing!”

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Her aunt caught the change in Qingyu’s expression. “Qingyu, what have you thought of?”

“Aunt, it’s only speculation,” Qingyu closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping she was overthinking.

With Ye Jiu gone, the plan to return to Yue was delayed by the lake outing for the whole morning. It was not until midday, after lunch, that the group hurried toward Yue.

Ye Jiu returned to the Warlord’s Residence, carrying the letter to the Listening Wind Pavilion, where Chu Jiu stopped him. “You’re back? Has the consort returned?”

Ye Jiu tossed the letter to Chu Jiu and vanished once more—a black shadow.

He needed to continue tailing the consort. If Sister Dong were driven away by her, she could return to the Shadow Guard Tower. If he lost the consort, he’d be expelled from the residence.

Chu Jiu caught the letter and saw the character “Luo” written in their lord’s handwriting. He suddenly felt a chill—life in the residence would soon be unpleasant.

He stepped into the main hall of the pavilion, hands trembling as he presented the letter to Feng Jinye.

Feng Jinye frowned at the character on the envelope, taking it coldly. “Summon Yunming.”

He scrutinized the handwriting, unable to determine if it truly belonged to the Warlord.

Yunming entered in white, a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders.

Feng Jinye motioned for him to sit and handed him the letter.

Yunming glanced at the envelope, then poured out the contents, examining it closely.

He looked up at Feng Jinye, not missing the panic in his eyes, and said truthfully, “It’s your handwriting.”

At those words, Feng Jinye sighed, fist pressed to his brow, rubbing his temples in confusion. How could his handwriting appear in a letter from two years ago?

“Could it be forged?” Feng Jinye asked, unwilling to accept it. No wonder Qingyu was leaving—did she believe he was her father’s killer?

Yunming saw Feng Jinye’s helplessness. Only Qingyu could drive him to such a state. He smiled gently. “Write the character, let me see.”

Chu Jiu, standing nearby, reminded Yunming, “Your Highness, you’ve been granted a princely title now. You should get used to it.”

Yunming paused—the title was an irony, granted for familial ties and usefulness to the Empress Dowager, not for merit or legacy. He was deeply disdainful.

Feng Jinye glanced at Chu Jiu, signaling him to withdraw, then wrote the character “Luo” and handed it to Yunming.

Yunming studied it, sighing inwardly. “The two are nearly identical, but the envelope’s strokes differ in force. Each line varies in pressure.”

He did not believe Feng Jinye would harm Qingyu, and advised sincerely, “You should find your consort and clarify everything.”

“You mean the letter is forged?” Feng Jinye breathed a sigh of relief, pressing for certainty. Without solid proof that the letter was false, how could he seek her out?

“Yes,” Yunming replied, knowing Feng Jinye’s tendency to overthink. Some answers must come from the consort herself.

Chu Jiu had barely left before rushing back in, breathless. “My lord, someone has delivered a card at the gate!”

Both Yunming and Feng Jinye paused. All the powerful officials knew the Warlord disliked social visits—he never accepted cards.

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Could it be from the Duke’s residence? Both Yunming and Feng Jinye wondered.

Chu Jiu, trembling, handed over the card. Feng Jinye was puzzled—whose card could frighten Chu Jiu so?

He opened it slowly; it read, “Swallow brings spring to the gates, nightingale sings long of earth’s renewal…” A few lines of congratulatory words for a new residence.

The more he read, the more wrong it seemed. At the end, the signature—“Tail Spoon’s Best Wishes”—struck him.

He slammed the card on the desk with a loud crack.

Fury blazed in his eyes. Coldly, he called, “Ye Eleven!”

“Bring the consort back at any cost!” His words thundered. Ye Eleven had not seen their lord so enraged in ages.

Fire raged in Feng Jinye’s gaze. He seized the sword Cangyuan from the sandalwood rack and strode out.

Yunming, astonished, realized something was terribly wrong. Why such sudden fury, bringing Cangyuan?

He hurried after.

Feng Jinye, icy as a blade, reached the Tail Spoon General’s Residence in moments, leaping over the wall.

Qingyu had anticipated his arrival. She sat casually on the corridor railing, waiting.

Feng Jinye saw her silhouette at the corridor. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed his head again and again.

He forced himself to endure, brows drawn tight, voice harsh. “Return to the Warlord’s Residence with me.”

Qingyu looked up, meeting his gaze. “Feng Jinye, don’t be foolish. You’ve guessed it—I’ve been leaving every day to purchase things, and all were delivered to the Tail Spoon Residence. Now word has spread across Yue.”

Word had spread—the daughter of the Tail Spoon General’s Residence did not perish in the fire years ago.

“Qingyu!” Feng Jinye shouted. For the first time since their marriage, he called her by name. “Must you do this?”

Qingyu stared at him, unsettled by his unusual reaction.

Silence fell. She did not know how to answer, and seeing her unease, Feng Jinye’s heart ached—he had frightened her.

He resisted the urge to step forward, standing firm, his grip on Cangyuan tightening. Qingyu’s gaze fell on his right hand holding the sword.

The atmosphere chilled. Icy cold enveloped Qingyu as she asked, frost in her voice, “Why did you bring Cangyuan?”

Feng Jinye paused. Before he could answer, Qingyu stood abruptly, demanding, “Are you here to kill me?”

At her words, Feng Jinye almost heard the sound of a heart breaking—was it hers, or his?

Once, someone whispered in his ear, “You need not tear yourself apart—I will bear it for you.”