The next morning, the sun was warm and bright. Wen Tian woke up to a chorus of whispering voices.
Rubbing his eyes, he got out of bed and pushed open the window.
Below the sill sat a neat row of flowerpots, and overnight, all the plants had sprouted fresh new leaves.
They were talking again.
Ever since he’d returned, he hadn’t really had the chance to relax—and he’d nearly forgotten this strange ability of his. Leaning against the windowsill, he listened to the bare little plants below.
“The weather’s so nice today.”
“Yeah, but the soil’s getting dry. My leaves aren’t even smooth anymore.”
Another young, pouty voice chimed in, “If only we could go to the front garden. We’ve been stuck in these tiny pots for years. We can’t even turn over!”
“Exactly! It’s way too cramped here. I haven’t bloomed properly in two whole years.”
Maybe it was because they’d just woken up, but the plants were especially chatty this morning. From what Wen Tian had observed, most of the greenery tended to be quiet—only a handful liked to gossip.
Stretching lazily, he draped himself over the windowsill and said to the plants, “Then how about I move you all to the front garden?”
The lively chatter came to an abrupt stop. Only the tender new leaves trembled gently in the breeze.
Wen Tian smacked his lips. Why are they all so timid?
He shrugged into his outer robe and called Daifu inside.
“You’re up, young master.” Daifu came in carrying the washbasin, ready to help him get dressed.
Wen Tian waved him off, choosing to dress himself. As he buttoned his robe, he pointed toward the window.
“Have someone move those potted plants to the front garden.”
Daifu walked over and took a look, puzzled.
“These were the weak ones, so Uncle Wang put them here under the window.”
Wen Tian chuckled.
“Maybe they’ll grow better in a new spot.”
“Alright. I’ll ask Uncle Wang to take care of it.” As he spoke, Daifu crouched to check Wen Tian’s foot.
He carefully unwrapped the gauze and was startled to find that the wound—where he’d lanced the blister—had already begun to heal. Fresh pink skin covered the area.
“Young master! That medicine really works! Your foot’s already half-healed!”
Wen Tian looked down in surprise. Sure enough, new flesh had grown in—a slightly deeper shade of pink than usual.
He wiggled his toes and gently set his foot down. It didn’t even hurt.
“It’s really better.” He blinked, taken aback. Now that he thought about it, every time he’d gotten injured lately, he’d healed unusually fast.
He glanced at his hands, then thought about the strange power that let him understand plants. Could the two be connected?
He got up and took a few steps. Whatever the reason, he figured it could only be a good thing.
After dressing and freshening up, Wen Tian headed to the courtyard.
Chu Xiangtian was there, practicing martial arts.
He wore a loose-fitting robe with tight cuffs and hems. Each movement was precise and powerful. As Wen Tian drew closer, he could almost feel the fierce energy radiating off him.
He’d never seen someone like this before—so full of that wild, martial aura. It was like watching one of those heroic fighters from the storybooks, leaping over rooftops and flying through the air.
Not wanting to interrupt, Wen Tian quietly took a seat in the nearby pavilion, resting his chin in his palm as he watched the performance.
But just as he was getting into it, Chu Xiangtian abruptly stopped and started walking toward him.
“Why’d you stop?” Wen Tian asked, a bit disappointed. He hadn’t gotten his fill yet.
Chu Xiangtian came over and leaned down slightly, peering at him.
“Is your foot healed?”
Wen Tian still hadn’t completely let go of his earlier wariness toward him. The way Chu Xiangtian acted so familiar made him feel a bit uncomfortable.
He replied awkwardly, “Yeah… it’s better.”
Curious about the martial display, he couldn’t help but ask, “Do bandits actually need to learn that stuff?”
Chu Xiangtian chuckled. “Mm. Not only do we practice martial arts—we go to war, too.”
Wen Tian stared at him, momentarily stunned. But then he saw the grin on Chu Xiangtian’s face and realized he was being teased.
He narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Nonsense.”
Chu Xiangtian laughed heartily. Leaning in closer, he gave Wen Tian’s head a playful pat, his voice low and teasing.
“You know… the more I look at you, the more I like you.”
Wen Tian: …
He slapped the man’s hand away, and whatever good impression had just started to form was instantly shattered.
Fuming, he glared at Chu Xiangtian and stormed off toward the main hall with Daifu in tow.
As soon as he stepped out, he ran into the steward, Wen Ji, who was leading some servants around as if searching for something.
Upon seeing Wen Tian, he asked, “Young Master, have you seen Lord Chu?”
Wen Tian blinked, confused. He pointed toward his own courtyard.
“He’s in there.”
Wen Ji looked just as baffled.
“Didn’t he stay in the guest quarters last night? The servants said he went out and never returned.”
Wen Tian latched onto one detail.
“Guest quarters?”
Wen Ji nodded.
“Madam arranged for Lord Chu to stay there for a few days.”
Just then, Chu Xiangtian strolled out and said with a straight face, “Last night, Master Wen and I had such a good conversation that he invited me to stay in the East Courtyard.”
Wen Tian gawked at him in disbelief. The sheer shamelessness!
His face turned red from fury, but he couldn’t exactly curse him out or start a fight in front of the servants. All he could do was glare daggers at Chu Xiangtian and storm off even faster.
Scoundrel! Liar!
Chu Xiangtian rubbed his chin and watched Wen Tian’s retreating, angry little back. At this rate, I probably won’t even get the study tonight…
He hadn’t even reached the main hall when a servant came running over with news: the Jiao family had come calling.
Wen Tian stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. His expression darkened.
“Does Mother know?”
“The Master and Madam are already in the hall.”
Wen Tian nodded and picked up his pace.
By the time he arrived, the Jiao family was already seated.
Wen Boli was exchanging polite greetings with the elder Jiao, while Fu Youqin sat in silence, her expression frosty.
Wen Tian straightened his robes and sauntered in, a lazy smile on his face.
“Young Master Jiao, your leg’s healed already?”
Jiao Changxian’s face twisted awkwardly. But he was here today to patch things up and salvage the engagement. So, for now, he had to swallow his pride and force a stiff smile.
“It’s healed. No need for you to worry.”
Wen Tian glanced at him coolly, then walked over to sit beside Fu Youqin.
He covered his mouth with one hand and asked—not quietly at all—“Mother, what are they doing here again? The engagement’s already broken off. Don’t tell me they’re here hoping to freeload?”
The Jiao family’s expressions turned a rainbow of colors.
But since Wen Tian had technically addressed Fu Youqin in a “whisper,” they couldn’t very well jump in and demand a second slap to the face.
All they could do was pretend they hadn’t heard a thing.
Wen Boli, however, frowned.
“Youyong, that’s enough.”
Wen Tian pouted but fell silent, though he swept his gaze disdainfully over the Jiao family like they were beneath him.
Jiao Changxian had always been treated like a prince in Lehe Town. He’d never suffered such humiliation.
His fists clenched tight, veins bulging at his temples. He was a breath away from storming out.
But his father, seated beside him, shot him a warning glance and gave him a hard pat. Jiao Changxian deflated like a popped balloon.
Wen Tian, watching from above, found it hilarious. So much for grace and nobility—looks like cold-heartedness runs in their blood.
Years ago, when Fu Youqin and Wen Tian had been framed and forced out of the family, the Jiao family had turned a blind eye.
The Fu family’s estate had been seized, their pleas to the authorities ignored. They’d even begged the Jiao family for help, hoping someone would speak up for justice.
But not only had Jiao Changxian’s father refused—he’d mocked them to their faces.
And later, Jiao Changxian had divorced his wife to marry someone else.
This family—dressed in the robes of respectable scholars—had done things that were downright despicable.
Now they were back again, trying to make peace. It wasn’t the first time either. They’d already come by twice before, only to be thrown out by Wen Shuyue.
Now that Wen Tian had been rescued, they’d seized the chance to visit under the pretense of “checking in”—but really, they were still after the engagement.
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