Palace maid Shuoning

(Up)

Jiang Shuo Ning saw Zhou Zhengyin lying on the ground, his back trembling slightly, and frowned, asking, "What is it?"

Zhou Zhengyin didn't look up, his voice muffled in his chest, as if he had too many words to say and didn't know where to begin:

"There's a man in Changmen Palace whose eyes were sewn shut, his hands were cut off, and his tongue was cut out. I originally wanted to ask him about my mother, but as soon as I mentioned Granny Yu, he pounced on me like a madman. He seems to know Granny Yu."

But Eunuch Xin stopped him. Eunuch Xin must know something too, but he refused to say anything.

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his voice gradually lowering:

"Aunt, I want to find out the truth about what happened back then. But that person can't speak, and Grandpa Xin won't tell me either. I... I don't know what to do."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Shuoning suddenly gripped the edge of the table tightly with one hand, his knuckles turning white: "You want to investigate your mother's affairs?"

Zhou Zhengyin slowly raised his head, his eyes already red and brimming with tears:

"Aunt, if what the Imperial Observatory says is true, that my mother is unlucky, then why did she enter the palace? Why did she wait until after I was born to say it? And why did the room where I lived with Granny Yu suddenly catch fire half a year ago?"

He paused for a moment, his voice trembling slightly:

"Before she perished in the fire, Granny Yu told me that if I became mute, no one would harm me anymore. That fire was probably meant for me."

I've thought about it carefully these past few days. After I became mute, I was taken back to the palace, perhaps because that person was completely at ease, or perhaps because they wanted to torture me slowly under their nose.

If it weren't for my aunt and Eunuch Baozhong protecting me, I would have died in Changmen Palace sooner or later. I never dared to think about these things before, but now I understand. Since I'm going to die anyway, I might as well die knowing why.

Jiang Shuoning looked at him, the hand on the edge of the table still tightly clenched, his expression gradually becoming serious.

His own words that night became the catalyst for his decision.

Once you embark on this path, life and death are uncertain, and no one knows who the real mastermind is.

But since she had already decided to help him, this matter was bound to come to light sooner or later, it just came sooner than she had expected.

After a moment of silence, she raised her hand and gently brushed away the stray hairs from his forehead.

Zhou Zhengyin froze, staring intently at her. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he timidly raised his hands, gently cupping her hand that was pressed against his forehead. His voice was helpless and pitiful.

"Auntie, please help me. You're all I have left."

Jiang Shuoning's heart tightened as his hand was enveloped in the man's rough palm, the sensation traveling from the back of his hand up to his heart, where it gently rubbed.

"Let go of my hand. No manners."

Zhou Zhengyin paused for a moment, then slowly released his grip and lowered his head: "I'm sorry, Aunt, I was rude."

Jiang Shuoning withdrew his hand, his fingertips slightly curling into his sleeve, and turned his face away:

"Leave it to me. Go back early."

After saying that, she slowly got up, turned around and walked back to the bedside, lifted the quilt and lay down with her back to him.

Zhou Zhengyin knelt on the spot, watching her back. His lips moved, but in the end he only said softly, "...Mm."

He stood up, stepped back to the doorway, opened the door a crack, and slipped out.

The door closed, and the room became quiet again.

Jiang Shuoning stared at the wall with his eyes open. The hand he had just held still had a rough feel on his fingertips, like sand rubbing against his skin.

She slowly curled her fingers and put them under the covers.

The wind blew through the crabapple blossoms outside the window, and the petals drifted down, swirling gently under the eaves.

She closed her eyes and heard her heartbeat quicken slightly.

(under)

Nighttime, Changmen Palace.

Zhou Zhengyin lit a flickering candle and practiced the characters Bao Zhong had taught him, writing each stroke carefully on the paper.

But what kept echoing in my mind was my aunt's words, "Leave it to me."

He suddenly paused, opened the palm of his other hand, and stared blankly at it.

There seemed to be the lingering warmth of his aunt's hand there, a delicate and smooth touch, like a thin layer of warmth clinging to his skin, impossible to dissipate.

His heart skipped a beat, and he stared at his palm, forgetting to breathe.

"Not bad, you've learned to leverage others." The voice from the darkness rose again, carrying a sinister mockery. "Things you can't do yourself, you delegate to your aunt. That's a good tactic."

The voice from within the light followed immediately, filled with guilt and unease:

"Am I taking advantage of my aunt? She's been so good to me, I shouldn't have dragged her into this..."

A sharp voice from the darkness interrupted, "Shut up! We're here to seek justice for Mother Consort, Granny Yu, and ourselves, not to exploit them!"

Zhou Zhengyin's grip on the pen tightened slightly, and the pen tip spread a small blot of ink on the paper, like a tear that couldn't be held back from falling.

He stared at the ink stain for a long time, his mind tense but unable to relax.

It was pitch black outside the window; the night at Changmen Palace was as quiet as a tomb.

He put down his pen, gently closed his palms, as if wanting to hold onto that warmth a little longer, or as if trying to suppress something that shouldn't be there.

He closed his eyes and murmured to himself, "Auntie, I'm sorry."

The sound was as light as a leaf falling into water, which would be dispersed by a gust of wind.

The door was slowly pushed open, and the candlelight on the table flickered in the wind.

Zhou Zhengyin was startled and looked up to see Bao Zhong walking in from the doorway with a blank expression. He came up to him and placed a stack of books on the table.

He glanced down at the paper spread out on the table, clicked his tongue, picked it up, scanned it twice, and then tore it up.

Zhou Zhengyin hurriedly stood up, looking at the words he had painstakingly written all night, which were torn in two. A "Why?" welled up in his throat, but was suppressed by Bao Zhong's gaze.

"Why did you write so badly tonight?" Bao Zhong asked, displeased. He crumpled the torn paper into a ball and threw it on the table. "Is this your promise to me? It looks like scribbles. If you're only interested for a few days and then give up, then there's no need to write anymore."

Zhou Zhengyin clutched the hem of his clothes, his voice low and muffled: "I'll revise it, I'll write it properly."

Bao Zhong didn't reply, but tapped the stack of books on the table with his fingertip:

"These are the Four Books and Five Classics, the most basic books. You must read them thoroughly and memorize them."

Zhou Zhengyin followed his finger, his eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously:

"I...I will definitely study hard and live up to your and Aunt's expectations."

Bao Zhong nodded slightly, then sat down and pushed the top copy of "The Doctrine of the Mean" in front of him:

"Let's start with this book tonight. Memorize it during the day, and then explain your understanding to me tonight."

Zhou Zhengyin sat down, turned to the first page, and Bao Zhong read a sentence aloud, which he then repeated, trying his best to recognize each word and memorize it.

The candlelight cast the shadows of the two people on the wall, as they sat side by side.

Only Bao Zhong's low reading voice and Zhou Zhengyin's clumsy echoing words followed in the room remained, one after the other, like footsteps in the night, the sounds not loud, but never ceasing.