The ancestral hall.
The memorial tablets of several generations were arranged in order, and within the oppressive atmosphere, it seemed as if countless pairs of dark, hollow eyes were watching.
Lu Paizhang lit the candles, and the flickering flames illuminated the ancestral hall. However, the oppressive feeling in the air did not dissipate with the arrival of light.
Under the bright lamplight, father and son stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the memorial tablets of the Lu family’s ancestors.
Lu Paizhang divided three sticks of incense with Lu Huaihai, and the two of them offered incense in turn.
“If it weren’t for the burden of the military household, I wouldn’t want to take this path.”
The curling smoke rose, and for once, Lu Paizhang confided his thoughts to his son.
Lu Huaihai looked at the memorial tablets of his relatives, silently lost in thought.
When his eldest uncle died in battle, Lu Huaihai was only three years old and did not have any deep impression of it.
However, when his second uncle and grandfather passed away in the same year, Lu Huaihai was already eleven.
Just last month, his second uncle had found time to play cards with him, and his grandfather, who had teased him for growing too fast and looking like a grasshopper, had vanished without warning, leaving nothing but ashes in the pile of old papers.
Lu Paizhang also thought of the deceased relatives.
For him, the loss of his father and brothers was far more immediate and profound than what his son, Lu Huaihai, could feel as a younger generation.
Would Lu Huaihai follow in their footsteps?
He closed his eyes tightly, his brows furrowed. Only after a long while, when the incense had burned halfway, did Lu Paizhang finally open his eyes again, weary and exhausted.
He commanded, “Kneel.”
Without hesitation, Lu Huaihai swiftly knelt before the incense table and stripped off his upper garment in the snow-filled air.
Lu Huaihai straightened his back like a spear deeply embedded in the ground, the tightly bound hair on his head resembling the red tassel at the tip of a spear.
“Ten lashes,” his father coldly declared.
The whip sliced through the silence like a blade of wind, cracking loudly as it struck Lu Huaihai’s back.
Lu Paizhang did not hold back at all.
Though he was now a minor official managing farmlands, in his younger days, he could draw a five-stone bow on horseback.
One lash was enough to tear the skin and flesh, let alone ten.
Even Lu Paizhang’s wrist felt numb from the impact, but his son endured it stoically, taking every ounce of pain without so much as a shiver in his shoulders. At most, a muffled groan occasionally escaped through clenched teeth.
After the tenth lash, Lu Paizhang casually tossed the whip to the ground. He said, “Raise your head.”
Lu Huaihai lifted his head, calmly meeting the gaze of the Lu family’s ancestral spirits.
“From now on, I will no longer interfere with you,” Lu Paizhang declared, enunciating every word clearly. “If you are capable, then you will shoulder the honor of the Lu family.”
He spoke with utmost seriousness. “I am also tired. After the New Year, when spring arrives, I will retire. At that time, you will enter the capital to inherit the title.”
These words truly stunned Lu Huaihai.
Lu Paizhang had no time to worry about his son’s feelings and continued, “Fight bravely and strive to be the best. This time, you’ll at least earn a first-class merit. However, since the Lu family has no one in the court to help pave your way, instead of slowly working your way up one step at a time, it’s better to inherit the title directly. Your military merits will only enhance your position further.”
These were heartfelt words.
Yet, Lu Huaihai replied, “My future doesn’t require Father to make sacrifices for me. Father is only in his early forties, still in the prime years to achieve something. Why should you retire so early and stay idle at home?”
Lu Paizhang’s face darkened. He had the urge to slap his son on the shoulder, but when he saw the bloody whip marks on his back—the marks he had just inflicted—he hesitated. A sudden pang of guilt struck him; he thought to himself that he had indeed gone too far this time. Instead, he switched to slapping the back of Lu Huaihai’s head and said, “I’m your father. Since when do you get to lecture me? Stand up.”
Lu Huaihai stood up. In the flickering candlelight, he suddenly noticed streaks of gray in his father’s hair at the temples. His throat tightened.
Lu Paizhang was already walking out. He said, “Alright, go back and apply medicine to your wounds.”
Only after his father’s figure disappeared and the incense burned out did Lu Huaihai leave.
It was already late at night, and everyone in the other courtyards had gone to rest. Without putting on an outer robe, Lu Huaihai headed straight for the East Courtyard.
After all, there were no maids or female servants in his courtyard, just a few servant boys about his age.
When the servant boy Bai Zhou saw him return shirtless, his back covered in injuries, he cried out in shock, thinking something terrible had happened. He exclaimed, “Young Master, what happened to you?”
The bedroom was heated by an underfloor dragon stove and was quite warm. The previously numbed pain on Lu Huaihai’s back suddenly flared up in the warmth. Not wanting to say much, he simply instructed, “Go get me some white medicine.”
Bai Zhou was about to leave when Lu Huaihai stopped him again.
After a moment’s thought, Lu Huaihai added, “Also, don’t let… don’t let this matter reach Lady Xie’s ears.”
It wasn’t that he felt ashamed—he just didn’t want her to worry. He figured he’d tell her once his wounds healed in a few days.
However, Lu Huaihai had been away from home frequently, often for months at a time. Even when he was in the East Courtyard, he rarely relied on the servants for anything, so there was little tacit understanding between him and Bai Zhou.
Seeing Lu Huaihai’s bloodied back, Bai Zhou was so flustered that he misheard the latter half of his master’s words. Instead of “don’t let this matter reach Lady Xie’s ears,” he interpreted it as “go tell Aunt Xie.”
Bai Zhou didn’t find the request strange at all. He immediately ran toward the west courtyard, thinking, Since the Young Master is a man, it’s understandable that he might not be meticulous enough in handling injuries. Having Lady Xie come to help makes perfect sense.
Lu Huaihai sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for a long time without seeing Bai Zhou return.
The room was empty, and the pain on his back tugged at his nerves, causing him to grimace and clench his teeth.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached from outside. Lu Huaihai lifted his gaze and saw Bai Zhou returning—with Lady Xie following close behind.
Lu Huaihai froze for a moment, unsure if there was something wrong with his eyes or if Bai Zhou’s brain had malfunctioned.
Bai Zhou eagerly ushered Xie Miao’er over the threshold, then sensibly withdrew, even closing the door behind him as he left.
Before Xie Miao’er could approach, Lu Huaihai hastily draped his inner robe over himself, the plain white sash hanging down onto the bed. He said helplessly, “Why did you bring her here?”
He had wanted to keep this from her, but now she had been invited right in.
The moment Xie Miao’er entered, the heavy scent of blood hit her, and when she saw Lu Huaihai’s pale lips and the faintly bloodstained inner robe on his back, her face changed dramatically. Her eyes widened in shock.
“How did you get hurt?”
He had been fine when he returned just now!
She hurriedly said, “Quick, take off your clothes so you don’t aggravate the wounds!”
Lu Huaihai raised his eyebrows slightly and asked, “Are you sure?”
Xie Miao’er, anxious to the point of stomping her feet, clutched the medicine Bai Zhou had handed her earlier. “Of course! How else can I apply the medicine?”
Seeing her so serious, Lu Huaihai reluctantly took off his inner robe, revealing his strong, muscular arms. Xie Miao’er instinctively turned her head away, her voice faltering as she stammered, “Y-you… turn around, turn around!”
Her awkward yet vivid expression was the best remedy for him. The corners of Lu Huaihai’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he obligingly turned his back to her.
Xie Miao’er took a few deep breaths, pulled over an embroidered stool to sit by the bed, and carefully washed her hands. Sitting behind his bloodied back, any trace of embarrassment or shyness vanished from her mind at the sight of the crisscrossing whip marks.
She picked up a cloth and gently wiped away the blood on his back, her movements so slow and cautious that they seemed almost hesitant.
Her carefulness, however, became a form of torture for Lu Huaihai.
To examine his wounds more closely, she leaned in, her soft breaths brushing against his back. The sensation made his hair stand on end, and every muscle in his body tensed as he dared not move a single inch.
Xie Miao’er, oblivious to his tension, wiped the wounds clean before pouring some medicinal powder into her palm. She waited until the powder warmed in her hand so it wouldn’t feel cold, then carefully applied it to his back with the base of her palm.
“Hiss…”
Hearing him suck in a breath, Xie Miao’er immediately pulled back her hand, nervously asking, “Did I hurt you?”
Lu Huaihai tilted his head slightly and sighed, “If you go any slower, the wounds will heal on their own.”
Not realizing he was teasing her, Xie Miao’er earnestly replied, “That’s impossible. Honestly, the way you’ve been whipped…”
Looking at the injuries covering his back, she could easily guess the reason behind them.
It wasn’t as if he had fallen and hurt himself.
Ruler and minister, father and son—the emperor himself wouldn’t flout filial piety, let alone Lu Huaihai, who had indeed left without notice this time. His father wasn’t exactly a patient man, so using the family’s disciplinary methods wasn’t surprising.
But this was too harsh! It didn’t seem like a father punishing his son; it was more like enemies settling a grudge.
She muttered under her breath for a while before realizing that Lu Huaihai had been teasing her earlier. Pouting, she poured the medicinal powder directly onto his back and haphazardly spread it with her palm.
“You complain that I’m too slow, yet you’re laughing at me!” Xie Miao’er said indignantly.
Despite her words, her hands remained gentle, careful not to press too hard and hurt him further. Although applying the medicine caused a stinging pain, she silently quickened her pace to spare him unnecessary suffering.
The soft palm pressed gently against his back—how could Lu Huaihai not notice her care and attention?
He rarely let others take care of him, let alone someone who was as meticulous and cautious as her, even afraid to press too hard for fear of hurting him.
Some people’s hearts had long since melted into a puddle.
By the time the medicine was applied, Xie Miao’er’s forehead was already dotted with a thin layer of sweat. Yet she said, “I’ll go ask someone to turn up the heat from the dragon stove. You… you can’t wear clothes right now. Don’t catch a cold.”
She was about to leave when Lu Huaihai suddenly grabbed her wrist.
He turned slightly, quickly let go of her hand, and said, “Ask Bai Zhou to take you to a side room to rest. It’s late.”
He didn’t want her walking back against the night wind.
Xie Miao’er blinked and stared at her wrist. After finishing the medicine application, she hadn’t dared to look at his bare back again.
“I won’t,” she said.
It was the first time Lu Huaihai had heard her firmly refuse him, and he couldn’t help but feel curious. “Why not?” he asked.
Carrying the basin filled with bloody water, Xie Miao’er replied, “You’re injured, so I’ll stay to take care of you at night.”
In the past, when she had been sick, she had read some medical books and learned that wounds like his were not just painful but also dangerous if they caused a fever.
She was worried he might develop a fever during the night.
Before Lu Huaihai could say anything else, she had already dashed out the door. Not long after, she returned like a gust of wind.
“Your father sent some oil gauze and medicine. I’ll wrap your wounds for you,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
Running back and forth, she resembled a kitten eagerly chasing butterflies.
Seeing her like this, Lu Huaihai opened his mouth but couldn’t bring himself to say anything to refuse her. So, he simply said, “Alright.”
When she began bandaging his wounds, the two of them inevitably ended up quite close. Lu Huaihai, unable to describe the emotions stirring in his heart, chose to feign indifference, allowing the young girl to maneuver his arms as she pleased.
The only disappointment was that Xie Miao’er was very efficient, and their close contact didn’t last long.
After finishing the bandaging, Xie Miao’er examined her work with satisfaction, clapped her hands, and said, “All done! I’ll change your bandages again in the morning. Let’s hope it doesn’t leave a scar.”
Lu Huaihai asked, “If it does leave a scar, what then?”
Without hesitation, Xie Miao’er replied, “Then it won’t look good.”
As she spoke, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at his arm.
The two of them had always been proper. Despite living in the same house for two months, they didn’t even know the color of each other’s inner garments. But now, she had gotten a good look at his bare arms.
No wonder he looks good in anything he wears, Xie Miao’er thought.
Earlier, she hadn’t dared to look at him. But now, she seemed bold enough to “secretly” glance at him again. Watching her, Lu Huaihai’s lips twitched slightly. He decided to tease her further. “If it doesn’t look good, what would happen then?”
Xie Miao’er froze for a moment, then hurriedly tried to explain. “Nothing really… it’s just a pity. Shaoye, think about it—if a fine piece of jade had a crack…”
For a moment, Lu Huaihai didn’t realize that the “fine jade” she was referring to was himself. When he finally caught on, he found himself utterly defeated by her unparalleled way of thinking.
“Xie Miao, you…” Lu Huaihai paused and finally said, “It’s late. You should rest.”
Xie Miao’er, however, was relentless, clearly intending to continue the topic. “Young Master, am I wrong? It’s such a shame, so you must take care of yourself.”
She decided to strike while the iron was hot, wanting him to realize that he needed to prioritize himself.
While he was away, Xie Miao’er had thought a lot—about him, and about his fate.
He was good at everything, except that he regarded himself too lightly, ultimately willing to sacrifice his life to present his remonstrations.
—He had torn open the fiercely debated issue of the maritime ban with his life. His death had sparked a turning point. Even though he was gone, Emperor Changping had adopted his advice, gradually lifting the ban on maritime trade and establishing an official Maritime Trade Office. Two years later, the new emperor ascended the throne, posthumously vindicating him and further loosening the restrictions. An ancestral policy needed someone of significance to break it, and the emperor had been waiting for the right person to appear.
But… Xie Miao’er thought, people are inherently selfish. After spending time with him, she couldn’t bear the thought of Lu Huaihai hurtling toward his tragic end like a moth to a flame.
That’s why she tirelessly tried to “brainwash” him: “Young Master, you are like the finest jade in the world. Nothing is worth destroying it in both form and spirit. Hurting yourself is never worth it. If you get injured, you’re the one who suffers!”
She showered him with so much praise that even Lu Huaihai couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed.
The proud and youthful man cleared his throat lightly, intending to steer the conversation elsewhere, but he noticed that as she spoke, her eyes kept lingering on his left chest.
Instinctively, Lu Huaihai raised his right hand and placed it over his left shoulder. “No one can avoid getting hurt forever.”
He added, “On the battlefield.”
His left shoulder was wrapped in white gauze, reminding Xie Miao’er of that dream where he bled profusely. Her heart clenched at the memory.
Seeing her serious expression, Lu Huaihai softened his tone.
“I’ll be more careful,” he said. “So you don’t have to worry.”