Chapter Forty-Eight: Protecting the Young (Part One)

That night, Yun Shuang did not return to the village. In fact, she had brought many hawthorn fruit leathers with her, but when selling them, she only took out two bags. The rest she temporarily left at Qifeng Residence, where they would be staying that night.

She chose not to return to the village mainly because she felt embarrassed making Old Li escort her every morning. Although Sister Hua repeatedly said it was no trouble, and Old Li himself seemed willing and uncomplaining, Yun Shuang couldn’t bring herself to take it all for granted. She was planning to move out of the village.

Just as Ye Shaoxuan finished speaking and was about to step outside, the space around him suddenly changed. The bright full moon turned into a blood-red moon, and everything felt unfamiliar.

That tone, brimming with schadenfreude, was laced with undisguised disdain and contempt. Princess Luxiang merely wanted to provoke Ye Zhen, hoping to make her hesitate, to disturb her composure. If Ye Zhen lost her balance, she herself could seize the chance to mock and ridicule her, venting her own spite.

“It’s been a long time, my dear son.” The man across sat down and offered a gentle smile. In the morning light, he seemed both beautiful and unreal. Since neither of them enjoyed beating around the bush, entering the shop so directly was a first, yet it didn’t feel strange. To be a ghost was to live in the shadows; there was no need to be open and aboveboard.

She had no home to return to. Her actions that morning had angered Han Siyou. She feared meeting him, dreaded hearing those words from his lips that would shatter her resolve and leave her in greater pain.

When the door opened, Xu Yuan’s face blossomed into a gentle smile. She hadn’t expected so many people to rush in at once. Not only was Cheng Jin not among them, but these were all people she was trying to avoid.

Qin Xiqian collapsed into Li Zixiao’s arms, her strength drained as if in a single moment. Being held so tightly filled her with immense happiness, yet also a trace of fear.

“Brothers, get ready. If they make a move first, don’t hold back,” Liu Wei said, his gaze sharp, his voice dropping as he addressed his men.

Mist rolled in, shrouding the bridge in ethereal haze. At the far end, Xia Ziyun’s figure faded into the fog. In his dream, Ye Shaoxuan was gradually swallowed by the thick mist, until it suddenly morphed into a human face, smiling at him.

Cen Kexin seemed jolted. She put away her phone, hailed a cab, and hurried toward Jiuli Street.

“Don’t frighten the baby…” Hong Shang roared. That utterly malicious scheme sent chills down one’s spine. Though there was no blood, no lives at stake, it still felt like being plunged straight into hell.

“Luo Su, if you keep hiding things, next time I’ll let the good stuff go bad before I save any for you!” She hurried to rummage through the wardrobe for the new clothes she’d just bought—finally put to use today.

He smiled softly and followed behind me, letting me walk ahead, secretly delighted. It was obvious he’d come just to see me, acting so tender and affectionate—like something out of a Taiwanese romance. I’d thought he was a melancholy, hard-to-approach type, but who knew he could be so clever and playful? Unwittingly, I grew even happier.

To express gratitude for the mysterious healer’s intervention—which had saved the emperor and his son from mortal danger and helped the Empire of Ellasia weather a political crisis—Augustus VII decided to host a grand ball at the palace. It was to celebrate another victory for the empire and the thwarting of enemy schemes.

The group lined up before the pond, awaiting Xianglai’s command. Gazing at the vast water, everyone was at a loss—how would Huaihua train them here?

As a direct disciple, killing a few servants was something no one dared interfere with, much less report to the elders, so no one knew whether the elders would turn a blind eye or not.

In truth, even without these people, Gao Rong and his companions would never have dared resist. After all, submitting to punishment still offered a slim chance at survival, whereas defiance meant being struck down on the spot.