Chapter 15: The Return of the Adopted Brother

Chapter 15 The Adopted Brother's Return

The next morning, at dawn.

The third young master of the Marquis' household, Zhou Wenshan, began getting dressed after waking up.

The maids selected a dark blue warrior's robe for him, adorned with a silver hairpin, a jade pendant at his waist, and iron wrist guards strapped to his arms. Once everything was in place, Zhou Wenshan examined his reflection in the floor-length bronze mirror.

Handsome indeed.

He had an engagement to attend—ever since his return to the Marquis' household and the restoration of his status, he had befriended a large circle of wealthy, high-born friends. They had invited him to play a game of polo that day.

Zhou Wenshan had never had so many friends before. Desperate to fit in with this circle of young nobles, he decided to go out for fun despite his father lying deathly ill in bed.

As he left the Marquis' household, he passed by his eldest brother's quarters—oh, his eldest brother, Zhou Yuanting.

Zhou Wenshan gave a low, mocking chuckle.

A man he had defeated!

The title of the Marquis' household, the vast wealth—all would be his! Zhou Yuanting couldn't compete with him!

Once his father passed away, he would be the sole master of the household!

When he passed by the Moonviewing Garden, another thought crossed his mind—a gullible fool of a woman.

Whatever he said, Lady Qin believed him, even trusting that he would provide for her in old age!

Once he inherited the title—

Just the thought of it filled Zhou Wenshan with intense satisfaction, making his steps even lighter.

Head held high, bursting with grand visions, he proudly strode out of the Marquis' household to meet his new friends.

But he had no idea what awaited him.

This young man, utterly unfamiliar with the noble society of Chang'an, plunged headfirst, believing he could effortlessly reap countless treasures—just as he had in the Marquis' household, where wealth had flowed like water into his courtyard.

It was his rightful due, for Fang Yiniang had told him that this was all his father's compensation to him.

His father treated him well, and so should everyone else, out of respect for his father's standing. After all, he was the future Marquis!

His newly made friends cheerfully took him along to play polo, ride horses, and hunt. He dove headlong into the fun, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Until an accident struck.

During the hunt, his horse suddenly went mad, bolting uncontrollably. He was thrown from the saddle and crashed heavily to the ground. At that moment, it felt as though all the blood in his body had frozen—only pain spread relentlessly through his limbs.

He saw his new friends riding toward him from a distance. He wanted to call for help, but he couldn't utter a word.

Slowly, the figures drew nearer, looking down at him from horseback.

Thinking him unconscious, they spoke carelessly among themselves.

"Is he dead?"

"Probably not, but he looks close."

"Crippled now, is he?"

"He's definitely crippled; his legs are broken."

"That's enough. A disabled man can't inherit the title. He won't be able to snatch Yuanting's title anymore."

The group erupted in laughter, jeering at him.

"A bastard, thinking he could defy heaven itself?"

"Lady Qin was fooled by the Marquis of Zhongyi, but Yuanting won’t take this lying down."

"Exactly. He wasn’t destined for it—even if he stole it, he couldn’t keep it."

Zhou Wenshan lay on the ground, desperate to open his eyes, to shout, to scream, "I am the Marquis!" But he could do nothing, only lie there helplessly.

The group idly kept watch over him until his personal servant rushed over, sensing something amiss, and hurriedly called for help to carry him back to the marquis’s residence.

By the time he reached the residence, he had already fainted, completely unaware of the uproar this caused in the household.

It was midday when a group of people returned to the residence in distress. Fang Qingqing, upon hearing the news, was so startled she even forgot about Zhou Ziheng and rushed to the gate to see him. When she saw her son covered in blood, she nearly fainted from shock.

Zhou Ziheng, whose health had slightly improved these past few days, forced himself to stand and went to see his beloved son upon hearing the news.

His son must not come to harm! He and Fang Qingqing had only this one cherished child!

After the residence’s physicians did their utmost to save him, Zhou Wenshan's life was barely preserved—though he did not die outright, he was left permanently disabled.

His spine was shattered, the bones irreparable. At such a young age, he would never stand again!

Fang Qingqing looked at her unconscious son and let out a wail, wishing she could throw herself against a pillar. Zhou Ziheng, frowning deeply, questioned the retainers who had accompanied him, all of whom claimed it was an accident during a hunting trip with a group of young nobles.

The news spread through the residence in an instant, though most paid it no mind.

Liu Yandai squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the world, and even closed her ears—she had come to understand that there wasn't a single kind soul in this marquis’s residence. She resolved to keep to herself quietly.

Bai Yuning and Zhou Chiye were deeply engrossed in their passion, spending every night in intimate embraces in the ancestral hall, ignoring the outside world, lost in their own passion. Had Zhou Yuanting kicked open the door, he might have seen silken lingerie strewn about.

The only one who cared about this news—and was delighted by it—was Zhou Yuanting.

The young master, dressed in white robes, sat weakly by the window, occasionally coughing softly. His noble face appeared calm, but when no one was looking, a glint of triumph flashed in his sharp eyes.

Zhou Yuanting shared his father's cunning and ruthlessness. To keep what was his, he’d stop at nothing.

——

By the time the news reached the Moon-Viewing Garden, Qin Chanyue was leaning by the window, reviewing account books.

The room was silent. A peony in a vase on the table swayed gently in the breeze. The bright afternoon sunlight cast a radiant glow on the flower, while the ice vessel radiated coolness. Occasionally, the sound of an abacus clicking or pages turning could be heard, accompanied by birdsong outside the window.

It was a peaceful afternoon—perfect for receiving welcome news.

The marquis’s residence was about to descend into chaos. She had to strike while the iron was hot.

Qin Chanyue was halfway through balancing the accounts when she heard someone rushing in from outside. The person reached the corridor and, forgetting even to announce her arrival, shouted toward the room, "My lady, disaster has struck!"

As soon as the commotion reached the outer room, the maidservants scolded, "What’s all this noise? How dare you be so disrespectful in the lady’s presence! Where are your manners?"

Qin Chanyue, however, was in good spirits and didn’t mind the breach of etiquette. She simply said, "Let her in. Tell me what’s happened."

The servant rushed in, her face damp with sweat. The moment she saw Qin Chanyue, she fell to her knees and cried, "My lady, calamity has befallen us!"

Qin Chanyue raised her eyebrows in surprise, thinking, *That lowborn son had a little accident—was this really worth all the weeping?*

"What happened?" she asked.

The elderly maidservant lowered her head, her voice thick with tears as she said, "The Prince of Southern Pacification was attacked at the border and is now gravely injured! A courier raced nonstop, and he has been rushed back to Chang'an overnight! He has just arrived at the Prince of Southern Pacification's residence!"

The ledger slipped from Qin Chanyue's fingers and hit the floor.

Every plan she had been meticulously crafting in her mind was thrown into disarray by this sudden news. The usually composed noblewoman lost her composure for the first time, standing frozen for a moment before staggering toward the bed, disoriented. Her legs nearly gave way, and she almost collapsed on the spot.

Her robes pooled like a wilting flower, trembling faintly with her movements.

The maidservant hurried over to support her, only to see Qin Chanyue's face turn deathly pale as she gasped, "Get me there—now!"

*Why was her foster brother injured?*

*She had already sent her letter!*

*What had gone wrong?*

Qin Chanyue didn’t even have time to relish the chaos surrounding Fang Qingqing and Zhou Wenshan, nor did she send a single word to the Autumn Breeze Hall. Instead, she rushed straight to the carriage and sped toward the Prince of Southern Pacification's residence.

It was the *Wei* hour (1–3 PM).

The Prince of Southern Pacification's residence in Chang'an was located in the *Azure Sky Ward*, a mere hundred paces from the imperial palace—a place symbolizing *"With favorable winds, I soar to the heavens."* The ward was home to noble families of high rank, where you couldn’t walk five steps without bumping into a marquis or heir.

The Prince of Southern Pacification's residence had long been without its master, as the prince had been stationed at the border, leaving the estate mostly empty, guarded only by a dozen or so private soldiers and an elderly steward.

But today, the gates were flung open in haste, with elite troops lining the gates. The synchronized stomping of iron boots rattled the ward’s cobblestones. Nosy neighbors craned their necks to see the grand entrance of the Prince of Southern Pacification's residence welcoming a carriage drawn by four horses.

The Emperor’s carriage had six horses, while princes rode in four—this could only mean the Prince of Southern Pacification had returned!

The news instantly set Chang'an abuzz.

Everyone knew that the Prince of Southern Pacification had guarded the border for years, serving as the strongest line of defense between Great Chen and Southern Miasma. Having not returned to Chang'an for over a decade, his sudden arrival could only mean disaster.

The mere thought of it unsettled many.

Not only were court officials in turmoil, but the palace also immediately sent envoys to inquire—none other than the Crown Prince, Chen Feng.

Chen Feng, just twenty-two years old and hungry for power, rushed straight from the palace to the Prince of Southern Pacification's residence.

The residence was a sprawling six-courtyard estate, as large as a marquis's mansion but of even higher status. After ascending seventeen and a half stone steps, one entered the main gate.

The Prince of Southern Pacification's residence was immaculately kept, though the prince disliked flowers, so the courtyards lacked lush blossoms. Instead, stark trees loomed, beneath which stood equally silent elite soldiers, their blades sharpened to a deadly edge. The glint of steel lent the estate a deadly quiet.

As the Crown Prince passed through, dread coiled in his chest.

The Prince of Southern Pacification was the realm’s top general and his strongest supporter. Only with the prince's backing could he contend with the Second Prince. Now, with the prince's abrupt return, this could only mean disaster—but what?

His steps quickened as he approached the corridor.

The moment he stepped beneath the covered walkway, the reek of blood hit him, deepening his unease.

After the guards at the door saluted, the Crown Prince hurried into the chamber, where he saw the Prince of Southern Pacification lying unconscious on the bed, his upper body bare and wrapped in bandages. He hovered between life and death.

The prince's personal physician stood by, examining the wounds but helpless to treat them. No remedy would take.

To guard against miasmic poison, the Qin Family Army ingested potent toxins, which mingled in their bodies, turning them into living toxins themselves. While this allowed them to counteract venom with venom and resist miasmic attacks, it also rendered many herbal remedies ineffective. Once injured, they had no choice but to tough it out—which was why the Qin Family Army suffered such heavy casualties.

The Crown Prince panicked upon seeing the Prince of Southern Pacification in such a state and hurriedly asked the Deputy General beside him, "What exactly happened?"

The Deputy General standing nearby quickly lowered his head and replied, "Your Highness, there was a traitor in our army who assassinated the Prince of Southern Pacification."

The Crown Prince pressed, "Who was it?"

The Deputy General leaned in and whispered two names.

The Crown Prince frowned deeply upon hearing them. "These are born-and-bred Great Chen citizens, not outsiders like the Southern Miasma people. Could it be that someone within our own court wants to harm the Prince of Southern Pacification?"

The topic was far too treacherous, already hinting at court power struggles, causing the Deputy General to tighten his lips.

Power struggles... At times, they could be even more detestable than the Southern Miasma people. Family stabs family, knowing exactly where it hurts most. Blood ties exploited, knives plunged between them, victories won through deception—no matter the era, they leave the deepest scars.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed outside the door. Without announcement, someone burst in like a gust of wind.

The Crown Prince turned and saw a dazzling and headstrong woman, oozing spoiled arrogance.

The woman appeared to be around thirty, with enchanting features, voluptuous and exuding an air of indulgence. Adorned with gold and jade, she was clearly a peacock of a woman, like a ripe fruit, heavy on the branch, exuding mature allure. Yet, her staggering steps ruined her poise, and her eyes brimmed with panic, as if she might faint at any moment.

This was none other than the Prince of Southern Pacification's sister, Qin Chanyue—Lady Qin.

Her mind and heart wholly consumed by her foster brother, Lady Qin paid no heed to who else was in the room. The Crown Prince, so prominent a figure, went entirely unnoticed as she rushed straight to the bedside and broke down sobbing.