An eight-year-old kid emptied his scumbag father's warehouse and followed his grandparents into

Wutou didn't even wipe his tears, looking at Pu'er with eyes full of pain and self-blame. "Pu'er, don't be like Wutou," his voice broke. "You must be good to your sister and your aunt. Otherwise, it will be too late to regret it."

When he said this, his eyes were vague, as if he saw his former self through Pu Ge'er, the ignorant boy who always bullied his eldest sister.

Pu Ge'er said stubbornly and firmly: "I can't!"

Jing Qiurong stepped forward and silently untied his bag, moving very carefully, as if she were handling some fragile treasure.

Everything inside was neatly arranged. Besides a few plain clothes and a handkerchief embroidered with simple patterns, there were also some candied fruits, a small bag of tea, a few bars of soap... The most valuable item was a simple, plain silver hairpin, which glowed softly under the oil lamp.

Seeing his aunt pick up a crudely made bamboo flute and a small, faded kite, Wutou's eyes grew even darker. "In the past, grandparents only cared about me and my brothers when they bought things. We didn't even have our older sisters."

His voice was as light as a sigh, "My eldest sister liked the bamboo flute in eldest brother's hand very much. She wanted to borrow it to play, but was beaten by eldest brother. This is made by me." As he spoke, tears flowed down his face, sparkling in the light of the setting sun.

"Once, my half-sister and my legal sister made kites for themselves to play with. I went to snatch them away, but they refused to give them to me. Later, I stepped on them and broke them into pieces." After saying this, she started to sob again. Her sobs were full of regret and self-blame, which made people feel sad.

After reading everything, Jing Qiurong couldn't help but ask softly, "Why don't you write a letter to your elder sister?" Her eyes were soft and concerned, hoping to hear more from this stubborn child.

Wutou shook his head, his movements resolute yet filled with endless desolation. "I'm so mean! She must hate me. She won't see." His voice was almost inaudible, and he avoided meeting his aunt's gaze, as if just saying these words had drained all his courage.

After crying for a long time, Wutou finally raised his head, his red and swollen eyes looking at Jing Chunxi, a last glimpse of hope in his eyes. "Cousin Xi," his voice hoarse from crying, "please tell my elder sister that if she ever gets the chance, she must come back and never marry in that harsh and barbaric land. Tell her that I, your younger brother Wutou, will work hard to earn military merit and find her a good wife." When he said "younger brother Wutou," his voice trembled violently, as if no one had called him that in a long time. He really wanted his elder sister to call him that again.

Jing Chunxi couldn't help but wipe away her tears, blurring her vision, but she nodded vigorously. "I'll definitely convey this message," she choked out, her voice broken by sobs. "Don't worry, Brother Wutou. With my grandparents around, they won't let her marry anyone she wants."

As she spoke, a wave of sadness welled up in her heart, because she knew that some injuries could not be repaired so easily.

As for whether Jing Mingrong would come back? Would she still recognize him as her biological brother? Jing Chunxi really didn't dare to say. There's an old saying: Don't advise others to be kind unless you experience their suffering. She thought of Jing Mingrong, the girl she had met on the way to dinner, who always stood quietly in the corner, often with bruises on her body, but whose eyes were so stubborn that it made people feel distressed.

But now Wutou has realized her mistakes and wants to win back her only sister. Jing Chunxi will naturally tell the truth when she goes there. After all, people are made of flesh and blood. It would be best if Jing Mingrong could come to terms with it. Seeing her brother repent and even want to earn a dowry for her, she will have more relatives around to protect her.

Jing Chunxi secretly swore in his heart that he must find a way to resolve the knot between the siblings.

……

Dinner was once again served to the five of them, gathered around the round mahogany table. On the table were six dishes and a soup: steaming hot chicken stewed with mushrooms, sweet and sour pork ribs, duck stewed with lotus seeds, braised carp, cucumber salad, and Jing Chunxi's favorite stir-fried lilies. In the middle was a large bowl of three-fresh soup with chopped green onions.

The candlelight danced on the celadon bowls and plates, casting a warm glow on everyone's face.

Pu Ge'er was in a bad mood. He sat between his sister and the Crown Prince, sticking very close to Jing Chunxi, almost leaning his whole body towards him.

He wore a light grey cotton shirt, a few ink stains on the cuffs, likely from studying in his study. His slender fingers gripped the ebony chopsticks, but instead of using them to pick up food, he propped up his still-fat chin and sighed, "Hey! I wish I didn't have to go to school." He deliberately drew out the sigh, glancing at his sister for her reaction.

"Are you not going to school?" Jing Chunxi raised her eyebrows upon hearing this, pretending to hit him on the head with her chopsticks. "Go to Yamen Village and eat your grandfather's fried pork with bamboo shoots every day." She flipped her wrist, and the chopsticks drew a beautiful arc in the air, finally landing lightly on her brother's head, without even disturbing a single hair. Pu Ge'er shrank his neck in cooperation, causing Jing Chunxi to burst out laughing.

On the other side, Xu Zize wore a moon-white brocade robe and a jade crown tied around his hair, making him look like a delicate orchid. He was in a very good mood, a faint smile on his lips. His slender fingers picked up the chopsticks and placed a large, glossy, sauce-colored sparerib in Pu'er's bowl. "Studying is hard, so eat more to nourish yourself. Listen to Uncle Jing and Mother at home."

The spare ribs fell onto the white rice, splashing a few glistening grains. Xu Zize also picked up a piece for Jing Chunxi, his eyes so gentle that tears could flow from his eyes.

Jing Qiurong wore her hair in a simple bun, adorned with a wooden hairpin. It was simple yet beautiful. She placed a piece of skinless, stewed chicken wing into Jing Chunxi's bowl and gently instructed, "Listen to the prince and Uncle Kuaijiao along the way." The fine lines around her eyes smoothed out as she spoke, her movements graceful and composed. The jade bracelet on her wrist swayed gently, gleaming softly in the candlelight.

"I got it! Mother." Jing Chunxi picked at the chicken wings in the bowl, suddenly looked up, and glared at Jing Yi who was drinking soup: "Master, don't leave mother before I come back." As soon as she said it, she felt something was wrong and quickly changed her words, "Don't leave Qingshan Villa." She bit the tip of her chopsticks and looked at her master eagerly, like a child asking for a promise.

Jing Qiurong immediately scolded her, "If we don't leave Qingshan Manor, what will happen to Qiuyi Manor?" She put down her chopsticks and tapped her daughter's smooth forehead with her fingertips. "Aren't you urging your Uncle Jing to build some hot spring? Prince Jing has such high demands. How can we spend money without keeping an eye on it?"

Although her tone was stern, her eyes were full of smiles. She turned her head to look out the window at the darkening sky, and the shadows of the osmanthus trees in the yard were already very long.

After thinking for a moment, he continued to lecture her, saying, "It's not like there are no guards in the manor. Every time your uncle Jing goes out, he sends a lot of people down from the mountain. Not even a fly can get into Qingshan Manor."