Jiang Xingyan grumbled inwardly: I really don’t know military strategy.
Xin Zhui’s exaggerated reaction made her realize something was off.
Her expression turned cold as she feigned authority. “This is unbecoming! Pick it up at once!”
Despite his deep-seated fear of Huo Ci, Xin Zhui stiffened his neck and refused to budge.
“At today’s morning court, it was the Imperial Preceptor who petitioned the Emperor, convincing him not to revoke the military tally—and even promoting me to First-Rank General of the Northern Garrison.
And yet, the moment you step out, you throw away a gift he kindly sent. Is that proper conduct?”
Xin Zhui’s jaw dropped. “What? Since when is he that generous?!”
Jiang Xingyan shot him a sharp glare, pretending to be furious.
Grudgingly, Xin Zhui picked up the book and stuffed it into his saddlebag.
Just from his reaction, Jiang Xingyan could tell Huo Ci and Yun Chunfeng were at odds.
But the Imperial Preceptor was so kind—it had to be Huo Ci’s fault somehow.
She pursed her lips, dismissing the thought.
“I’m taking Xiao Ya to the Imperial Hospital for acupuncture. You go back first and inform the household to prepare for the imperial decree.”
Xin Zhui agreed halfheartedly, muttering to himself: The General has really changed.
Before, he and the Imperial Preceptor were like fire and water, constantly at each other’s throats.
Now, not only is he accepting favors from him, but he’s also keeping his gifts.
In the past, the General would’ve refused the promotion with righteous indignation.
Who knows what that fraud is really plotting?
Wait—the past—
Xin Zhui’s heart jolted. By the time he turned back to look, the General was already gone.
The stark contrast in his behavior pushed Xin Zhui’s suspicions to the limit.
Could it be—
…..
Huo Ci checked the sun’s position, estimating the time of the morning court session, his mind restless.
The Emperor had long intended to reclaim military power, but Beiluo’s wolves would never give up their ambitions.
Every civil official at court had their eyes fixed on him—the slightest misstep would give them ammunition to impeach him.
He narrowed his eyes.
Especially that Yun Chunfeng—
Whack!
A willow switch lashed hard against his arm, snapping him out of his thoughts—and knocking the carp from his hands.
“Quit daydreaming! Get back to work!”
The fish tumbled into the dirt, earning him even more strikes.
“Clumsy fool! If you delay the Old Madam’s lunch, can you bear the consequences?!”
Huo Ci swallowed his resentment—this was his punishment for mistreating Jiang Xingyan in the past.
He just hated that her body had to suffer for it.
Pushing down his thoughts, he worked faster to avoid more beatings, quickly retrieving the fish to rinse it clean.
But the switch came down again.
“Worthless wretch! Covered in filth—how can the Old Madam eat this?!”
Instinctively, he argued, “It’s just dirt. Water will wash it off.”
The response was a fiercer flogging.
Anger flared, and he reached to snatch the switch, ready to strike back at the maidservant.
But before he could move, a kick sent him stumbling.
“Tch. Know your place. Anger the Old Madam, and you’ll regret it!”
The maidservant’s mocking grin made him freeze—his mother still held Jiang Xingyan’s deed of sale.
Defeated, he waded back into the icy water to catch another fish, gutting and scaling it with numb hands.
Suddenly, it struck him: Jiang Xingyan was just like this fish.
Trapped in the inner quarters by him and his mother, drained of all worth before being devoured.
Huo Ci’s eyes burned.
He hadn’t cried in years.
The last time was when he saw his father’s head impaled on an enemy spear, his body trampled beneath hooves.
He’d howled, lunging forward to fight—only for his shadow guard to muffle him and knock him unconscious.
When he woke, he was in the Jiang household.
Old Master Jiang’s merchant caravan had saved him and his guard.
Memories surfaced—the frail, kind old man bowing endlessly, enduring slights, spending fortunes to forge him an elite army capable of crushing Beiluo.
He took his revenge, subduing the north again and again.
Old Master Jiang, who could’ve demanded anything in return, asked only one thing:
After I’m gone, take care of my only granddaughter.
And what had he done all these years?
Tears fell freely.
In the early years, he could excuse himself—he was consumed by vengeance. But these past two years?
Jiang Xingyan had suffered so much giving birth to Xiao Ya—how could he have turned a blind eye, believing every lie fed to him?
He raised a hand to slap himself—then stopped.
This was her body.
Defeated, he dropped his arm and wept openly.
The maidservant panicked.
Jiang Xingyan had always been stubborn, never shedding a tear no matter how harsh the beatings.
This heartbroken sobbing was a first.
Afraid the noise would reach the front courtyard and alert the Young General’s men, the maidservant hastily shoved leftover pastries from the kitchen at “her,” hissing, “Eat if you’re hungry—and stop crying!“
Starving, Huo Ci bit into a lotus root and osmanthus cake—only to immediately spit it out.
Jiang Xingyan’s body rejected overly sweet foods; no matter how hungry, it would vomit them back up.
His sobs grew louder.
Cursing, the maidservant tossed him a cornbread bun. “Trash like you don’t deserve a proper meal!”
He ate half, still hungry, but carefully wrapped the rest.
Xia Feng and Dong Xue were starving too—he’d save this for them.
Meanwhile, the two women, stomachs full, were in the courtyard training when they both sneezed violently.
They exchanged wry smiles.
Their bodies were still too weak. Improvement wouldn’t come overnight, but they had to push harder.
They couldn’t waste the roast chicken and training manual Qiu Yan had delivered on their mistress’s orders.