Fu Tian stood on his tiptoes, glancing in the direction the government soldiers had left.
His mind was still a little uneasy—how had they fled so quickly, like they had seen a ghost?
Chu Xiangtian, fearing he was overthinking, quickly changed the subject. “Still looking?”
“Let’s go back.”
As soon as he said this, Fu Tian remembered he still had to go back for lunch, so he pushed the earlier incident to the back of his mind.
The two walked back, chatting and laughing, until they saw someone unusually familiar standing at the entrance of the Fu Family estate.
Fu Tian’s smile faded, the curve of his lips flattening into a straight line. “Wen Boli, what are you doing here?”
It had been so long since he last saw this man that Fu Tian had almost forgotten about him completely. He hadn’t expected Wen Boli to resurface like a persistent fly.
Wen Boli looked much more haggard and aged than before, though his clothes and hair were neatly arranged.
The months spent in prison had worn down his sharpness; the gentle, refined gentlemanly aura he once had was completely gone.
All that remained was sheer hypocrisy and greasy insincerity, enough to make anyone feel sick at heart.
Wen Boli also noticed him and hesitated before walking over, squinting as he sized Fu Tian up, as if he didn’t recognize this young man.
After a moment, he forced a false smile. “Only been two months, and you look like you’ve grown a lot.”
He even tried to reach out to pat Fu Tian on the shoulder, but Chu Xiangtian intercepted his hand halfway.
Fu Tian immediately stepped back, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust. His face cold, he asked again, “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to come back to see you all… and your mother.”
Wen Boli’s face showed some guilt. “During those days in prison, I thought about many things and deeply regretted it… I wronged you and your mother.”
“If you truly feel sorry for my mother, then you shouldn’t disturb her anymore.”
Fu Tian sneered at him. “Or did you think that just saying a few polite words and apologizing would get you back into the Fu Family estate?”
Fu Tian showed no mercy, tearing apart Wen Boli’s grandiose lies. “Without you, my mother, sister, and I have been doing just fine.”
With a sharp flick of his sleeve, Fu Tian walked into the estate and looked back coldly at Wen Boli. “Leave on your own, or I’ll have someone throw you out. Your choice.”
Wen Boli’s expression instantly twisted into something hideous, but moments later he forced out a crooked and fake smile.
“I truly realize my mistakes. I just want to apologize to Qin Niang in person.”
“Laifu, chase him away.”
Fu Tian had no desire to speak further; even looking at Wen Boli was annoying. He directly ordered the gatekeeper to remove him.
The burly gatekeeper rolled up his sleeves and glared fiercely at Wen Boli.
Knowing there was no benefit to be gained today, Wen Boli wisely left on his own.
At the corner where the Fu estate was hidden behind walls, the fake smile on Wen Boli’s face instantly collapsed. His cloudy eyes filled with a tangled mix of regret, anger, and resentment.
He had spent nearly two months in prison—days that were inhuman to endure. Two months felt longer than two years. And in this miserable state, his wife and children hadn’t visited once.
He resented Fu Youqin’s heartlessness but was also deeply remorseful for his own choices.
In prison, he repeatedly imagined that if he hadn’t been deceived by Bai Ruihe, if he had lived a proper life with Fu Youqin, he would still be the proud head of the Wen family—not a disgraced prisoner with a ruined future.
Hatred and regret twisted within him, almost tearing him in two: one half shouting for revenge, the other yearning for redemption.
His aged face contorted with emotion, and just as he was lost in thought, Bai Ruihe appeared, startled by his expression.
After hesitating for a moment, she forced a smile and walked toward him. “Brother Wen, did you see Sister?”
Wen Boli turned to look at her. The ferocity in his face hadn’t completely faded; his gaze darkened as he stared at her.
Bai Ruihe’s smile gradually stiffened, and only then did he put away the venom in his eyes and say, “She will see me—eventually.”
Bai Ruihe’s heart pounded. She felt as if the Wen Boli before her had climbed straight out of hell. But since she and her son still needed his support, she forced out a smile and affectionately leaned on him.
“Tomorrow we’ve already found a new house for you to check out. If you like it, then we can settle down—have a home of our own…”
Wen Boli glanced back once, silent, and left with her.
***
Fu Tian didn’t tell Fu Youqin that Wen Boli had been released from prison and had even come to the door.
Although he wished Wen Boli had stayed locked away forever, the embezzlement case wasn’t strongly tied to him.
His two-month imprisonment was mainly because Wei Yang had specifically ordered it, and the new County Magistrate had yet to be appointed, delaying his release.
Two months passed so quickly that Fu Tian almost forgot Wen Boli existed.
Intentionally skipping over this unpleasant episode, Fu Tian thought Wen Boli would be wise enough to stay away. But the next day, he appeared again at the Fu Family gate.
This time he looked well-groomed; the haggardness was gone. He held a bunch of unknown wildflowers and a letter, gazing eagerly at the entrance.
Fu Youqin, who was about to go out with Fu Tian, saw him immediately.
Her footsteps faltered, her brows slowly furrowing, but she didn’t look at him again. Taking Fu Tian’s hand, she got into the carriage.
Wen Boli saw them pretending not to notice him. His expression stiffened briefly, then he smiled again and stood before the carriage with the flowers.
“Qin Niang, don’t you even want to see me once? I only want to apologize.”
Inside, Fu Youqin remained silent and whispered to Fu Tian, “When did this start?”
“Yesterday,” Fu Tian replied.
Fu Youqin rubbed her forehead. Wen Boli’s repentant appearance was nothing but a new act of playing the victim.
When they were young and poor, Wen Boli couldn’t afford expensive gifts, so he would pick a bunch of fresh wildflowers, still covered in dew, before sunrise to give to her.
Back then, young love made this feel like the most beautiful thing. Now, Wen Boli dragging this out made her feel sick to her stomach.
“Let’s go. Ignore him.”
The coachman, having received orders, pulled the reins, and the horses lifted their hooves, ignoring the man standing in front of the carriage, stepping straight toward Wen Boli.
Wen Boli hurriedly dodged. The flowers and letter in his hands dropped to the ground, trampled under hooves and wheels.
Wait.
Fu Tian originally thought this experience would deter Wen Boli from embarrassing himself again. But he showed up every day after that, carrying a bunch of flowers.
The gatekeepers were instructed not to let him near the main gate, so he stood at a spot visible from the estate entrance and waited.
Fu Tian was so annoyed he nearly asked Chu Xiangtian to beat him up.
“Why don’t we go stay at the manor for a while?” Fu Tian suggested. “I’ve been meaning to check it out anyway. Seeing Wen Boli’s hypocritical face every day makes me lose my appetite.”
Fu Youqin was less reactive. Having seen Wen Boli’s true colors, she knew he was capable of anything to achieve his goals.
After a moment’s thought, she nodded. “The weather’s getting hotter; it wouldn’t be bad to escape the heat at the manor. I’ll have someone pack.”
Early the next morning, a carriage with three horses slowly made its way outside the town toward the manor.
Fu Tian rode a horse, walking side by side with Chu Xiangtian, occasionally glancing back.
Zhou Chuanqing, for reasons unknown, was unusually inspired today—he stopped to compose a poem whenever he saw a flower or a bird.
Fu Tian, though well-read, couldn’t write poetry and found it headache-inducing.
Seeing Fu Tian’s face scrunch up, Chu Xiangtian chuckled. Fu Tian glared fiercely. “What are you laughing at? Can you do better?”
Chu Xiangtian was stumped and muttered under his breath that the young master was becoming more and more fearless of him.
The manor they were headed to was northwest of Sifang Town, about half an hour’s ride. The group took their time, just right for lunch.
The manor steward had been notified in advance and was waiting with the staff at the gate.
Fu Tian helped Fu Youqin and Fu Shuyue down from the carriage, and they were escorted inside.
This manor was smaller than the one used for the steward gathering last time, but the interior was exquisitely designed. There were two large courtyards in front and back.
A small lake in the rear courtyard was fed by flowing water, and a winding wooden bridge crossed it. At the bridge’s end was an octagonal pavilion, its curtains dancing softly in the breeze, adding a subtle charm.
They ate first. The manor’s chefs couldn’t match the skill of the Fu Family’s Da Chu, but the ingredients were fresh and tasty, and everyone was satisfied.
After lunch, Fu Youqin and Fu Shuyue returned to the rear courtyard to rest. Fu Tian, who didn’t usually nap, asked the steward to find someone to guide him for a walk outside the manor.
Beyond the manor were farmlands. At this time of year, the middle-season rice was being transplanted. Fu Tian looked at the lush green seedlings and couldn’t help but smile.
These crops would be the guarantee of survival for the next two years. Walking along the ridges with his hands behind his back, he asked, “How much can one mu of land produce?”
The servant guiding him answered, “Good fields nearly three shi, less fertile ones over two shi.”
The manor owned nearly eight hundred mu of land. At two shi per mu, that would yield about sixteen hundred shi of grain for a single season of middle-season rice.
With other estates included, the harvest would be even more impressive.
Fu Tian silently calculated that a small portion of the grain would be sent to the Rice Shop for sale, but most of it would be withheld and stored in preparation for the approaching Great Famine.