The Marquis Mansion’s Elite Class

Luo Ji's lips curled slightly upward.

This was probably the first time in his life he had heard such words.

Stripped of the Luo family's prestige, he was still his own person.

Luo Ji clasped his hands in gratitude. "This subject will not betray Your Majesty's trust."

Chu Jincheng grinned at him. "Go on then, the sooner you deliver it, the sooner we can win this war. I'll be waiting for your triumphant return, dear cousin!"

"Understood."

Luo Ji left with the imperial decree and the blueprints in hand.

The little troublemaker watched his retreating figure and mused: This plan might fool the Luo faction and outsiders, but Luo Jingfeng himself wouldn't be so easily deceived.

Uncle… might very well come back demanding answers.

Chu Jincheng frowned, lost in thought: How should I explain this to Luo Jingfeng later…

At the General's Manor.

Zong Wenxiu relayed the latest news about the blueprints to his father. Without even looking up, Zong Yan said, "It doesn't matter if Luo Jingfeng sees them. I can always design new ones."

Zong Wenxiu coughed lightly. "Father, you make it sound so easy. His Majesty values this war chariot highly—he even gave it a grand name."

"What is it?" Zong Yan finally lifted his head.

Zong Wenxiu smiled. "The Invincible War Chariot."

Though straightforward as ever, it was far more impressive than their class motto. He was quite pleased.

Zong Yan: "…"

The Emperor truly was a madman.

Zong Wenxiu continued assisting his father as usual, helping craft new hidden weapons. After a stretch of work, he heard Zong Yan ask, "Has the family declined all banquet invitations?"

Zong Wenxiu blinked. "No? Uncle and Aunt often attend, and Grandfather and Grandmother go occasionally. Father, do you want to go? I can take you."

Zong Yan's brow twitched. "You don't go often? Why?"

Was it because he wasn't around, leaving the second branch uninvited…?

Zong Wenxiu explained, "I was busy studying with my brothers before, so Aunt always declined on our behalf. Later, I was occupied with official duties and had no time. Mother sometimes went with Aunt, but she's been ill recently and resting in her room."

"Your mother is ill?" Zong Yan seized on the detail. "Why didn't you mention it?"

So that was why she hadn't come to see him—not because she didn't want to.

Zong Wenxiu hesitated. "At first, you weren't ready to see anyone, so I didn't dare bring it up. Later… I still didn't, because Mother worried you might not accept us."

"Why would she think that?" Zong Yan's chest tightened, the idea absurd to him.

Zong Wenxiu lowered his gaze, his voice subdued. "Mother said your past was just a fleeting encounter, and not a pleasant one at that. You might accept me out of familial duty, but she might not be someone you… care for. Father, will you marry someone else in the future?"

If Mother wasn't the one Father loved, then once he found someone he truly cherished, he would surely remarry.

Taking a concubine was one thing, but what if Father demoted Mother to a concubine? Then he and Mother would become outsiders in this household.

Hearing his son's pitiful tone, Zong Yan's heart ached. "Fool, why would I remarry? Take me to see your mother."

"Ah? Oh—yes, right away!" Zong Wenxiu scrambled to gather his things.

Zong Yan pulled him along. "Leave them. Let's go."

Zong Wenxiu protested, "But Father, aren't these hidden weapons important to you?"

Zong Yan countered, "What illness does your mother have? How long has she been sick?"

Zong Wenxiu, struggling to keep up, answered blankly, "It started as a cold, then turned into a cough. It's been half a month with no improvement. The physician said it's an old ailment from her time in the slums—it'll take time to recover."

As they walked, their path led toward the quarters near his old residence.

She had lived close to him all along.

When they neared the room, Zong Wenxiu cautioned, "Father, the physician said Mother's cough might be contagious. We shouldn't stay too long. You—"

"Go attend to your duties. I know the way back." With that, Zong Yan entered the room.

Zong Wenxiu stood there, scratching his head in confusion.

But he obeyed and left.

Father visiting Mother willingly was a good sign. If only Father could come to care for her—their family could finally be whole. The thought filled Zong Wenxiu with a joy he hardly dared imagine.

The room was dim, punctuated by occasional coughs.

Zong Yan found a window far from the bedchamber and opened it to let in fresh air.

Hearing the noise, Yan Suxue assumed it was her maid. "Jing'er, don't open the window."

Zong Yan stepped inside. "A little fresh air will help you recover faster."

Yan Suxue, propped against the bedside while coughing, looked up—and her eyes widened at the sight of him. "Zong Yan…"

She remembered him.

She had seen him the day he returned to the manor.

His face was just as she recalled, though the years had tempered his youthful vigor.

Zong Yan sat by the bed, his expression complicated. "No one told me you were ill."

A cough seized her. Yan Suxue covered her mouth with a handkerchief, suppressing it before replying softly, "They were thinking of your health. I'm not fit for visitors—I might infect you."

Zong Yan shook his head. "It's fine. I'm strong."

Yan Suxue paused, realizing Zong Yan wasn't avoiding her. If anything, he seemed concerned.

She ventured, "Do you… remember me?"

Zong Yan nodded. "I do. I've dreamed of you often." His cheeks flushed faintly, as if embarrassed.

Their most intimate moments had been during that brief encounter—naturally, those were the dreams that lingered.

Yan Suxue's face warmed too. Another cough threatened, and she stifled it, her face reddening further. "You should really go. I don't want you falling ill."

"I'm not afraid of that." Zong Yan picked up a slice of ginger from the bedside and offered it. "Does this help?"

Yan Suxue shook her head. "A little, but only barely eases the coughing."

After a long silence, Zong Yan spoke again. "I'm sorry."

Yan ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‍Suxue's heart skipped. "For what?"

Was he apologizing because he had someone else in mind? Someone he wished to bring into the household?

Her fingers dug nervously into the bedding.

If she had to step aside, could she at least secure Wenxiu's standing? He had worked so hard to be recognized as the legitimate heir—being reduced to a bastard again would devastate him.

Zong Yan kept his gaze down. "I'm sorry for what I did to you back then. For all the scorn you endured, for the suffering in the slums. I'm ashamed. I don't even know why I acted that way—it wasn't like me."

Yan Suxue exhaled in relief. "You weren't in control. I know that. We were both affected by the incense—that's why… why it happened."