After the Jiao family left, only three people remained in the main hall.
Wen Tian stood by Fu Youqin’s side, the mother and son clearly united on the same front. Wen Boli, his expression shifting through several emotions, stood alone on the other side.
With the outsiders gone, the tension between them came to the surface in full force.
The air inside the room grew cold and silent, and even the sound of Wen Boli’s breathing and the rustle of fabric became painfully loud.
“Qin-niang…”
He reached up to adjust the hairpin at the back of his head, but Fu Youqin didn’t even glance his way.
Her wide sleeves swept past like drifting clouds as she turned and walked out, taking Wen Tian with her.
Without Wen Boli around and having thoroughly shut down the Jiao family, Wen Tian’s mood visibly improved.
His steps grew lighter, his heels bouncing with each stride.
But in stark contrast, Fu Youqin’s back, which had been straight when she left the house, now curved ever so slightly—her expression heavy with exhaustion and disappointment.
Wen Tian only realized belatedly that something was wrong. His excitement cooled, and he silently fell into step beside his clearly disheartened mother.
After a moment, he purposely slowed down, pointing to a small pavilion on the right.
“Mother, the flowers in the garden are all blooming. Would you sit with me for a while?”
Fu Youqin looked stunned for a moment. Staring at Wen Tian’s deliberately wide-eyed expression, she saw right through his little trick.
He used to pull this move all the time as a child whenever he wanted something.
Even now that he was grown, he hadn’t kicked the habit.
They entered the pavilion together. Wen Tian wiped down the stone bench before letting her sit.
It was a long bench, and he sat close beside her.
Though he was now a full head taller than Fu Youqin, he leaned over and rubbed his head gently against her shoulder—just like he used to do when he was little, coaxing affection.
Now that he was older, the move felt clumsy and awkward.
Fu Youqin patted his head, a hint of a smile surfacing on her weary face.
“You’re not a child anymore—aren’t you embarrassed?”
“Is Mother annoyed with me?”
“No.” She tapped his forehead playfully and teased, “I’m just afraid your future wife won’t be able to put up with you.”
Wen Tian didn’t think much of that. In truth, he’d brought her here not just to cheer her up, but also to tell her something important—something about Wen Boli and his illegitimate son.
But the truth was… the idea of being reborn was too absurd. Even now, he often wondered if he was trapped in some long, drawn-out dream.
If he couldn’t fully believe it himself, how could he expect anyone else to?
His eyes shifted slightly. For now, it was better not to talk about the rebirth.
As long as he told her about Wen Boli’s secrets, the rest could be explained later—he could always make up a plausible reason.
A servant came with freshly brewed tea. After dismissing the servant, Wen Tian straightened up and poured a cup for Fu Youqin himself.
His earlier playfulness faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor.
Fu Youqin noticed the change in him. Just by looking at him, she could tell—her son had something important to say.
Eyes lowered, he hesitated for a moment. His fingers twisted nervously beneath the table, but when he spoke, his voice was calm.
“Last month… I saw Father outside of town.”
He slowly looked up, gauging her reaction, and continued, “He was with a woman. They… looked very close.”
Fu Youqin’s expression didn’t change, but the hand holding her handkerchief tightened slightly. Seeing the cautious look on Wen Tian’s face, she forced a smile.
“It’s alright. Don’t be afraid. What else did you see?”
Wen Tian swallowed hard, his heart pounding. Making things up on the spot was not his strong suit. Still, clenching his fingers, he pressed on:
“I saw them take a carriage together. They were headed toward the main road.”
In truth, even in his previous life, Wen Tian never found out exactly where Wen Boli had hidden his mistress and illegitimate son.
It was only after Wen Boli got promoted and brought them into the household that things blew up. At that point, no one even cared where they’d been hiding before.
All Wen Tian knew was that the woman and child had never lived in Sifang Town.
He randomly picked a time when Wen Boli had been away—once suspicion was planted, his mother would look into it. And once she did, she’d find something.
When he finished, Wen Tian sneaked a glance at Fu Youqin’s face and cautiously added, “At first, I thought I was just seeing things, but today…”
He didn’t finish. After what happened today, Wen Boli had practically ripped off the mask he’d worn for years.
A man willing to throw his own daughter into the fire just for the sake of his career—was it really so surprising he had a secret family on the side?
“I understand.” Fu Youqin let out a long breath.
So much had happened in one day. The man she thought she knew, the one who had shared her bed for years, had completely changed.
Even her youngest son—once so naïve—seemed to be hiding secrets.
Everything she’d believed in had been turned upside down. Fu Youqin was exhausted. But when she saw the worry in Wen Tian’s eyes, she also felt a quiet comfort.
At least she still had her children. Her always-sweet, always-clingy youngest son had finally grown a bit of a spine.
Fu Youqin reached out and touched his head, and couldn’t help leaning into his chest.
It was a gesture of dependence.
Wen Tian, usually the one being comforted, froze at the sudden role reversal. Awkwardly, he patted her back, mimicking the way she used to soothe him.
She only stayed like that for a moment before lifting her head again—still the same graceful, composed lady as ever.
Wen Tian tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and said seriously, “No matter what decision you make, I’ll stand by your side. Sister will too.”
“Alright.” Fu Youqin smiled and pinched his cheek, “You’ve gotten a lot more cunning than before.”
Wen Tian blinked, baffled, as he covered his cheek. Why did women’s moods shift so fast?
He had no idea what he’d done to deserve that pinch.
After parting with his mother in the garden, Wen Tian felt much lighter. He strolled leisurely back to the east wing—only to find Chu Xiangtian lying on the rooftop, basking in the sun.
When he spotted Wen Tian, the man even waved at him.
“!!!” Wen Tian stared at him, incredulous.
“What are you doing up there?!”
“Sunbathing,” Chu Xiangtian replied lazily, both hands behind his head, one leg crossed over the other. He looked completely at ease.
“The sun’s nice. Want to join me?”
Wen Tian:
…He couldn’t resist the temptation.
Biting his lip, Wen Tian looked up at the high roof—and nodded.
Chu Xiangtian chuckled and sat up, reaching out a hand.
“Step on that stone over there. I’ll pull you up.”
Wen Tian glanced at the decorative stone to his left. Puffing out his cheeks, he climbed on without much hesitation.
The height was just enough for Chu Xiangtian to lean down and grab him.
He gripped Wen Tian securely under the arms and hoisted him up effortlessly.
Being lifted like that, Wen Tian got a very real sense of how strong the man was.
And Chu Xiangtian didn’t let go right away either. He gave Wen Tian a little bounce and laughed, “Why are you so light? Feels like I’m holding a sheet of paper.”
Wen Tian punched him. “Put me down!” he snapped, trying to keep a straight face.
But his soft little fist landed on Chu Xiangtian’s solid chest—and hurt his own hand instead.
He’d actually put some force into it, but all it did was make his eyes well up.
Startled, Chu Xiangtian panicked. He quickly took off his robe to cushion the rooftop and made Wen Tian sit down, nervously examining his hand.
“Hey, hey—this one’s not my fault!” he said helplessly, somewhere between concerned and amused.
Wen Tian hadn’t meant to cry. It was just a reflex. He sniffled and pulled his hand back, sulking in silence.
Curled up with his knees to his chest like a wounded little animal, he looked small and pitiful.
Chu Xiangtian’s gaze softened. He reached out and poked Wen Tian’s exposed cheek.
Soft, warm, and smooth—it had a springy feel that was oddly addicting.
He couldn’t help poking again. And again.
Annoyed, Wen Tian looked up and shoved him away.
“Stop bothering me.”
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