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

Jing Chunxi had already opened the door a crack at the mere sound of footsteps. As Prince Yan, Qingfeng, and Luying entered, she quickly closed the door. The heavy oak door clashed with the doorframe, shaking off the dust that had accumulated on the cobwebs in the corners.

“Father!”

A weak but familiar voice came from the bed. King Yan paused abruptly, his grief-stricken heart finally healing and returning to normal: Ze'er was really not dead.

He rushed to the bed in two steps, his leather boots creaking. The oil lamp was shaken violently by the wind he created, casting a giant shadow on the wall, completely covering the simple reed bed.

Prince Yan grabbed the corner of the coarse quilt with trembling hands, and his silk-lined cuffs brushed against Xu Zize's pale cheek under the dim light.

When he suddenly threw back the blanket, the faint smell of blood mixed with the bitter aroma of healing medicine hit him. The linen bandages wrapped around Xu Zize's shoulders were speckled with blood, and the area above his waist was wrapped tightly like a dumpling.

"He was stabbed in the abdomen and his intestines were exposed. He was also shot in the shoulder by a poisonous arrow."

Xu Zize's voice was calm, as if he were describing someone else's injuries, to avoid worrying his father. But his disheveled hair made him look haggard, and the King of Yan couldn't help but feel a pang of pain in his heart.

"I will summon a military doctor!"

As the Prince of Yan turned around, the sleeve of his dragon robe swept over the bowl of porridge on the bedside table. The sound of shattering pottery was particularly piercing in the silent room. The white jade-like porridge slithered like a snake on the floor, soaking the toes of his boots.

"Father, no."

"Your Highness, no."

Two voices rang out simultaneously. Prince Yan turned around abruptly, and the dim light of the oil lamp completely illuminated the girl behind the door and the two people guarding the doorway for the first time.

Jing Chunxi wore a light grey turban with only a mahogany hairpin in her hair, but her straight back revealed the heroic spirit of a daughter of a military family. When she saluted, she exposed her slender white wrists.

"She is Xi'er from the Jing family." Xu Zize explained anxiously, "If it weren't Xi'er, father would never have been able to see the child."

The Prince of Yan's sharp gaze roamed over the girl's face. "Jing Family? The General's Mansion?" Seeing the girl nod affirmatively, the Prince of Yan asked again, "Were you the one who followed the exile group two years ago and saved the Crown Prince's life?"

Noticing the maid's slight nod, the Prince of Yan's voice softened unconsciously. He noticed the calluses on the girl's palms—these were not the hands of a young lady embroidering, but the hands of someone who had practiced martial arts and archery for years.

As she nodded timidly, a strand of hair fell on her cheek, glowing amber in the light of the oil lamp.

"The prince is blessed with a long life. He also saved Xi'er's life."

Jing Chunxi's voice was as light as a snowflake falling to the ground.

The King of Yan nodded approvingly and saw a stool beside him. He said, "Come sit next to me."

Jing Chunxi walked forward with grace, carefully dragging the wooden stool. The old mortise and tenon joints groaned under the weight. When she sat down beside the bed, the King of Yan could smell the faint herbal fragrance on her body, mixed with a subtle hint of rust—the unique scent of someone who had come into contact with blood.

The Prince of Yan's rough fingers hovered over the blood-stained bandage, hesitant to let go. He noticed the bandage was tied in a unique way—not the flat knot commonly used by military medical officers, but rather delicately, with each fold incredibly neat.

"Your Highness, Prince of Yan, absolutely not." Jing Chunxi suddenly reached out, her cold fingertips accidentally touching the old scar on the back of the prince's hand. "A wound that has been sutured can easily tear again if it's untied."

Xu Zize stretched out his hand to stop King Yan almost at the same time, and the girl's hand overlapped in the air. Both of their fingertips had the same medicinal fragrance.

King Yan narrowed his eyes and asked, "Suture?"

The word rolled in the Prince's throat. The army did have a suturing technique, but it required red-hot needles and oil-soaked silk thread, something even a normal strong man could barely endure, let alone a seriously injured person. Without a decade or two of medical experience, no one dared to perform it.

He examined Jing Chunxi's drooping eyelashes, trying to find a flaw in them.

"Yes, it was Xi'er who sewed the child up." Xu Zize explained anxiously, "She also brought a lot of good medicine, otherwise the child would have bled to death that day."

"Girl Xi knows medicine?" If the girl really knows, it can only be explained as the result of careful training since childhood in General Jing's Mansion.

"Xi'er also does needlework, but..." The girl's ears flushed, and her fingers unconsciously twisted the corners of her clothes, "I'm just not very good at it."

When she looked up, the King of Yan saw a rare frankness in her eyes. This wasn't the usual modesty of a woman in seclusion, but rather genuine shame. When she mentioned the "stitching was crooked," Xu Zize suddenly chuckled, thinking of the centipede-like mark on his abdomen.

"The wound is starting to itch now, and it's starting to heal." Xu Zize adjusted his breathing. "Xi'er said the stitches can be removed in a few days. Don't worry, father. Xi'er is capable. He saved many people during his exile."

Jing Chunxi looked up abruptly upon hearing this, gratitude flashing in her eyes. She had indeed saved a few lives during her exile, but they were few and far between. As for removing the stitches, Xu Zize was just making it up. There were instructions in the space at the time, indicating that there was no need to remove them afterwards. It was said that the thin threads could blend into the skin and disappear completely.

King Yan did not miss the detail of the two people looking at each other.

"It's good that you're not dead." The King of Yan finally sighed and took out a jade pendant with a dragon pattern from his waist and placed it on the bedside. "I thank you first, little girl Xi. If you encounter any problems in the future, please come to me for help."

The jade pendant glowed warmly under the oil lamp. It was a royal token, a token of the royal family. Seeing the pendant was like seeing the person. Jing Chunxi's eyes widened. She knew the significance of this gift—it was like giving her a talisman, at least a talisman to protect her while she was in Lingnan.

For the next two hours, Xu Zize recounted the assassination attempt in fragments. When the assassin's scimitar was mentioned, the Prince's knuckles turned white; when he showed him the wolf-head mark on the poisoned arrow, a cold gleam in the Prince's eyes flashed like a blade.

Jing Chunxi added details from time to time, and the professional terms she used when describing the shape of the wound did not seem like those of a young girl who was not good at needlework.

After they had finished explaining everything in detail, the King of Yan finally stood up. As he tucked in his son's blanket, he noticed the red amulet hanging around his waist. He touched it and whispered, "You two should get some rest early."

Before leaving, Prince Yan said, "Be sure to inform me of the date for the stitches to be removed, or have a military doctor take a look." His eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. "Since Ze'er can't return home with the coffin, I must make other arrangements."

Xu Zize nodded. He was also thinking about where to go. A dead person naturally could not return home.

A night owl stopped wailing from the old locust tree in the courtyard. King Yan looked up at the crescent moon and a faint smile crossed his face.