Chapter 19: Is Xunqi a Fake?

The Yuan family’s poetry contest had been held for many years. In past years, everything had gone smoothly—this year was the exception.

Fortunately, Yuan Fusheng was an open, magnanimous soul who cared nothing for worldly trifles. What she cared about was why Xunqi had participated—for the money?

A thousand taels was a drop in the bucket for a great clan. Ordinary people wouldn’t even bother. The Xie girl was from a cadet branch of the Xie family, fighting over these worldly coins to see herself through life. But Xunqi was the Young Heir of the Yan family. Why would she enter?

Yuan Fusheng had to bring the question to Yan Zhi’an. Yan Zhi’an, in turn, looked at Xunqi with utter resignation. “Are you short of money?”

“Me?” Xunqi pointed at herself. Thinking back over these past days, the best food, the finest clothing, daily life transformed beyond measure—never once had she fretted over a meal. Hearing her mother’s words, she couldn’t help lowering her head in guilt. Just then, Seventeenth Miss hopped forward. “Ninth Sister! I’m the one who made her go!”

The fourteen-year-old girl hung her head, too ashamed to lift it, the tips of her ears burning red. Yan Zhi’an shot her a glance, then shook her head with gentle helplessness. “Seventeen, keep the silver. Xunqi, go home.”

Xunqi: “…” And my five hundred taels?

She opened her mouth, but in the end, didn’t dare speak. She silently closed it again. The silver that had been within her grasp had flown away.

Seventeenth Miss beamed from ear to ear and thanked Yan Zhi’an with great enthusiasm. “Ninth Sister, you really do dote on me. Thank you!”

But Yan Zhi’an said, “You wrecked their tables and chairs. Aren’t you going to pay for them?”

The smile on Seventeenth Miss’s face instantly froze. “Me? It wasn’t me who started it! Sister, it wasn’t me!”

The Xie girl shrank back. She hadn’t gotten the prize; she couldn’t afford to pay damages on top of that. Her little movement didn’t escape Yan Zhi’an’s sharp eyes. Yan Zhi’an looked at her with a genial smile. “Miss Xie, what do you think?”

“I—I—Aunt…” The Xie girl looked helplessly at Yuan Fusheng, stamping her foot anxiously, at a complete loss.

Yuan Fusheng sighed. The Left Prime Minister had already spoken. If she said no compensation was needed, wouldn’t that be slapping the other woman in the face? She said helplessly, “How about this—you girls come to my Academy and teach for a few days as recompense. What do you say?”

“Teach?” Xunqi felt as if a great enemy was before her. She was a half-baked student herself—how could she instruct anyone else? Anxiously, she moved to refuse, but Yuan Fusheng pressed her words down. “You’re exempt. You have something more important to do.”

“Do what?”

“Come tomorrow and you’ll see.” Yuan Fusheng teased, then made a parting gesture to the Left Prime Minister. “You may take your leave now.”

Yan Zhi’an had enjoyed a fine spectacle and felt very pleased. She gave Yuan Fusheng a courteous nod, turned gracefully, and walked away.

Xunqi hurried after her. Seventeenth Miss, having won the silver, was overjoyed beyond words—she could buy all sorts of things in one fell swoop. Her companions likewise breathed sighs of relief, smiles spreading across their faces.

Only Xunqi, climbing into the carriage, hung her head, sullen and out of sorts.

“Want money?” Yan Zhi’an read the Little Thing’s mood at a glance, but she didn’t understand. “If you’re short of money, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Mm?” Xunqi’s nasal note was a little heavy, soft, the kind that softened one’s heartstrings. Yan Zhi’an found it strange. “What are you ‘mm-ing’ about?”

Xunqi said instead, “I can earn money with my own abilities. I don’t want to depend on you for everything.”

“Oh?” Yan Zhi’an laughed out loud. Xunqi was so mortified she wished she could crawl under the floor, and hung her head. “Don’t laugh. I know I’m just a child in your eyes, but you can’t deny my strengths.”

“If you don’t depend on me, who will you depend on?” Yan Zhi’an laughed until her shoulders trembled, one hand covering her cheek. Xunqi had some petty cleverness, yes—but what did that cleverness amount to without power to prop it up?

When her laughter subsided, she looked the girl squarely in the eye, her tone heavy. “Xunqi, what I need is a qualified Head of the Family—not a daughter who fusses over trifles. Do you understand? You fret over a thousand taels of silver, a whole day of worry. But tell me—you could have it in a single breath just by asking. Because you were born strong. The strong disdain such matters. You have far greater uses. Taking a bright pearl to crack walnuts—what were you thinking?”

A sudden understanding dawned on Xunqi. She raised her head to look at her mother, her gaze climbing inch by inch, rising slowly from those crimson lips until she met that pair of peerlessly sharp, bright eyes. Her heart abruptly raced.

Those eyes were long and narrow, the corners slightly upturned, brilliant as winter stars, carrying an air that brooked no argument.

Xunqi took a deep breath and nodded without meaning to. “I understand.”

“How much money do you want?” Having finished lecturing the child, Yan Zhi’an looked at her lazily. “Never mind. Go find Wushuang yourself—she’ll give it to you. Buy whatever you want. I can afford to raise you.”

Xunqi wasn’t an extravagant child. Since coming to her, she’d never once mentioned money. Clearly, Yan Zhi’an had been negligent.

Yan Zhi’an considered for a moment, then said, “Every child of the Yan family gets an annual allowance. I don’t know how much Seventeenth Miss and the others receive, but if you want one, name a figure, and I’ll set aside that amount every year. Spend it if you like; save it if you don’t. Up to you. Once it’s your money, I won’t meddle.”

“Allowance?” Xunqi chewed on the unfamiliar term, surprised.

Yan Zhi’an felt obliged to explain: “Because Yan blood flows in your veins, the Yan family gives it to you. It’s the nature of blood—not something given without reason. And because you are the daughter of me, Yan Zhi’an, this is what you are owed.”

Then the money existed simply because she was Yan Zhi’an’s daughter. That was Xunqi’s interpretation. She was dazed for a moment; the next, her mother swatted her on the head. “A few pieces of Loose Silver—worth this much of your worry?”

Xunqi looked up and gave her mother a radiant smile. “Got it.”

“You seem to know martial arts?” Yan Zhi’an brought up a more important matter. Among the Six Arts was Mounted Archery, and she had been planning to find a renowned master to instruct Xunqi. But today, watching the speed with which she reached out and grabbed that girl’s throat, her technique was swift—she was no frail, bookish girl.

Xunqi nodded. “The Madwoman knows some Unarmed Combat.”

Yan Zhi’an had nothing to say to that. That madwoman truly seemed capable of anything—she knew a little of everything.

A moment of hesitation. The carriage lurched to a violent stop, pitching her forward. In the next instant, the carriage flipped over.

“Protect the Head of the Family!”

Knocked about, Yan Zhi’an was dizzy, her ears ringing—but a hand seized her. “Quick—move!”

Frantic, Xunqi tugged at her mother, whirling to see black-clad figures rushing at them. Her legs went weak with fear. Should she run—or keep pulling?

In the space of a thunderbolt, she hauled Yan Zhi’an out with all her strength and pulled her to one side as an assassin’s saber crashed into the carriage roof.

The next breath, they came for them.

Cold steel and winter blades in early spring—a singularly blood-chilling sight. Xunqi yanked Yan Zhi’an up and ran, but Yan Zhi’an was nowhere near her speed. Before she could even get to her feet, the assassin’s blade was already swinging down.

With no other choice, Xunqi shoved her away and flung herself at the assassin.

“Xunqi—” Half of Yan Zhi’an’s heart went cold as she watched Xunqi grab the black-clad man and shove him backward.

Yan Zhi’an panicked. “Wushuang! Wushuang! Protect the Young Mistress!”

The words had barely landed when an arrow pierced the assassin’s skull. The saber in his hand clattered to the ground.

Reacting even faster, Xunqi shoved the assassin off hard, scooped up the saber from the ground, and turned to sprint back to Yan Zhi’an.

Just as she turned, several more assassins were punched through by arrows and crumpled in succession. The few survivors broke and ran. Yan Zhi’an barked, “Wushuang! If you can’t take them alive, kill them all!”

Better to slaughter every last one than let a single one slip away!

Xunqi paid no heed to the order. She helped her mother up and checked her over. “Are you hurt?”

“My leg hurts…” Only when asked did Yan Zhi’an realize her ankle was throbbing with excruciating pain. Rage surged in her heart.

Xunqi, without overthinking, crouched down and reached for her ankle.

Seeing the girl kneel, Yan Zhi’an instinctively drew back, but the girl wasn’t having it. “Don’t move. Let me look.”

Yan Zhi’an actually froze. Looking down at the nape of the girl’s neck, her cold, hard heart softened without her consent. “Why didn’t you run just now?”

“If I ran, what would happen to you?” Xunqi answered without a moment’s thought. Then she stood up. “Your ankle’s sprained, and the carriage is wrecked. Want me to carry you?”

She sighed as she spoke, her little face flushed, her eyes bright and brimming with water—like the waters of a hot spring in the dead of winter, warming the heart for no good reason.

Yan Zhi’an couldn’t help getting angry. “Next time, you have to run on your own.”

“And leave you behind?” Xunqi stared at her, baffled. “Are you out of your mind?”

Yan Zhi’an felt utterly drained. How was she supposed to explain? Xunqi was no ordinary person. If she truly died here, the entire Yan family would be buried alongside her.

She looked weakly at the girl whose heart was all sincere devotion, her throat bitter. She wanted to say that one’s own life mattered most. But that reasoning was wrong. People shouldn’t be so selfish.

Just as she was at her wit’s end, the girl smiled and told her, “Don’t worry. If it were anyone else, I’d have run. I’m not stupid.”

With that, she bent down. “I’ll carry you back. It’s dangerous here.”

“I don’t want you to carry me.” Yan Zhi’an felt aggrieved beyond words. She turned away, but when she moved her foot, pain bored straight into her bones, and her face went white.

Xunqi heaved a long sigh. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“None of your business.” With no way to voice her frustration, Yan Zhi’an reached out and grabbed Xunqi’s ear. “Xunqi, let me tell you—you did wrong.”

“Wrong, wrong, I’m wrong, alright? Let go of me, and I’ll carry you back.” Xunqi yelped twice in pain. She truly didn’t know what to do with this woman—a grown adult, yet throwing a little tantrum.

“Head of the Family, ride back on horseback.” In the mother-daughter standoff, Wushuang led over a horse.

Xunqi’s face went cold. “Are you stupid? Her ankle’s sprained. How can she ride? How would she even mount?”

Scolded out of nowhere, Wushuang looked helplessly at Yan Zhi’an. That tone sounded so much like the Head of the Family.

Yan Zhi’an’s head ached. She looked at Xunqi. “You really are a headache. I want to ride. Why should I listen to you?”

“Are you sick in the head?” The words slipped out before Xunqi could stop them. She regretted it the instant they left her mouth—she shouldn’t speak to her mother that way. Subconsciously, she darted a glance at her.

Fortunately, Yan Zhi’an was in too much pain to stand steady and paid no attention to those treasonous words.

Just as the three were deadlocked, a fast horse galloped up from ahead. The rider wore official robes. Dismounting, he walked straight up to the Left Prime Minister. “Left Prime Minister! An Urgent Dispatch from the Capital City!”

“Wushuang.” Yan Zhi’an gestured for Wushuang to take it.

Wushuang received the Urgent Dispatch, her expression shifting. “Her Majesty has found the Daughter of Emperor Ming. She has announced it to the ancestors and welcomed the child back into the Imperial Clan.”

Yan Zhi’an’s expression flickered. She snatched the dispatch and read it carefully—no mistake. She turned to look at Xunqi…

The Female Emperor had brought home her own daughter. Then who was Xunqi?

In that instant, Yan Zhi’an felt she had fallen into a pit.

Was the Xunqi before her a fake?