The man in purple robes maintained his smile as he stepped past Meng Qianqian and walked straight ahead.
Meng Qianqian held a child in one arm and an umbrella in the other, obediently following behind the man in purple.
The two walked out of the alley.
A luxurious carriage awaited them in the rain, stopping before the man in purple robes.
The coachman leaped down—not to fetch a stool, but to kneel in the cold, muddy ground, forming a human stool with his back, steady as a rock.
The man in purple robes stepped onto the coachman's back and boarded the carriage.
The coachman remained unmoving.
After a brief hesitation, Meng Qianqian also stepped onto the carriage using the coachman's back.
Only then did the coachman rise and return to the driver's seat.
Meng Qianqian closed the umbrella and placed it outside the curtains.
From the outside, the carriage appeared unremarkable, but the interior was extravagance incarnate—walls plated with gold, candleholders adorned with Dongzhu pearls, a seating bench carved from agarwood, cushions covered in Floating Light Brocade threaded with gold silk. Even the floor was decked out with a rare White Tiger Tiger Skin.
Unlike the Lu Family's drafty carriage, every wooden plank of this one was seamlessly fitted, and there was ample supply of silver charcoal.
The chill in her body dissipated instantly, replaced with comforting warmth.
The man in purple robes reclined lazily in the primary seat opposite the curtains.
His face was astonishingly beautiful—skin so pale and cold it conjured the image of eerie bones, thick, elongated brows slanting sharply toward his temples, and a striking pair of phoenix eyes brimming with a smile. His lips, more exquisite than a woman's, curved slightly upward.
Yet that smile never reached his eyes, sending shivers to anyone who dared look closely.
Meng Qianqian sat quietly on the long bench beside him, holding her child close.
With a playful smile, the man in purple asked, "Anything you'd like to say?"
Meng Qianqian glanced at the perfumed incense burner beside him and spoke softly, "The scent of this incense—isn't good for children to breathe."
The man in purple remained indifferent. "Is that all?"
Meng Qianqian thought for a moment before answering, "Do you have food? I'm hungry."
The man in purple sneered, grabbed a bundle, and tossed it onto her bench. "Change your clothes."
Meng Qianqian rolled up her rain-soaked sleeves, revealing a slender, pale wrist, her frostbitten fingers fumbling as she unwrapped the baby's swaddling clothes.
The man in purple said coldly, "I meant you. Your clothes are drenched—do you intend on freezing her to death?"
Saying nothing, Meng Qianqian placed the child on the main chaise, then pulled out adult-sized garments from the bundle.
When she noticed that the man in purple showed no intent of leaving and instead stared fixedly at her, Meng Qianqian continued to remain silent. She slowly lifted her hands and began untying the belt around her waist.
Her movements remained deliberate as she undressed down to her white underclothes. At this, the man in purple let out a mirthless laugh and swished his sleeve as he disembarked from the carriage.
He took the scented incense burner with him.
"If she cries even once, kill her."
The man in purple issued this order to the Jinyi Guards before disappearing into the torrential rain.
(The first "she" meant the child; the second referred to Meng Qianqian.)
Meng Qianqian finished changing herself and then dressed the baby in dry clothes as well.
The little one seemed to be no older than eight or nine months, with soft and fair skin, chubby cheeks, crimson lips, delicate brows, and lashes so long they resembled feathers—a budding beauty.
Perhaps relieved by the fresh, dry clothes, the child tilted her small chin upward, exuding an inexplicable sense of pride, and fell soundly asleep in Meng Qianqian's arms.
The carriage stopped outside the rear gate of a grand estate.
Through the pounding rain, faint strains of silk and bamboo music wafted, cutting through the thickness of the sound.
Meng Qianqian lifted the carriage's curtain.
Waiting outside was an elderly maid holding an oiled paper umbrella. Meng Qianqian handed over the sleeping child to her and reached for the umbrella under the curtain—only to find it gone.
Meng Qianqian turned to the Jinyi Guards. "Excuse me, may I borrow an umbrella?"
One of the guards asked, "Are we truly letting her go? Not silencing her?"
Another guard replied, "The master said that if the young lady cried, she'd be killed. But she didn't cry."
The banquet celebrating the child's "grabbing ceremony" was held at the Governor Mansion's Cuiyu Pavilion. The guests had already taken their seats, filling the room with clinking cups, exchanged toasts, gentle singing, graceful dancing, and the thunderous rhythm of drums—a lively spectacle indeed.
Lu Xingzhou sat in his assigned seat, eyeing the increasingly darkened sky. His gaze shifted to the vacant spot beside him, and his brows furrowed involuntarily.
"Wu Qi."
He called out.
The attendant bowed. "Master."
"Go check if the eldest young master has arrived."
"Yes."
Wu Qi left promptly and returned just as quickly, dripping wet. "Master, I didn't see the eldest young master's carriage."
Lu Xingzhou's frown deepened. "That boy. What now?"
"Could it be that he got lost on the way to the Governor Mansion?"
Lu Xingzhou shook his head.
His son, being a military general, had committed the entirety of the Capital City's defensive layout to memory. How could he not know the way?
Could it be that the downpour had broken his carriage midway? But even if he'd rented another, he should've arrived by now.
As Lu Xingzhou wrestled with these thoughts, a loud voice rang out outside: "The Grand Commander has arrived—"
The banquet hall's cheer instantly froze; the singing women, the dancing performers—all halted as the guests rose in unison to bow respectfully toward the entrance.
Lu Yuan entered with a smile, his steps graceful.
His purple robes shimmered, his crown gleamed as ink-black strands of hair flowed beneath it, and his face resembled a flawless jade.
In all the world, there was no man more dashing than he, nor one more ruthless.
With a faint chuckle, he spoke, "Had to deal with a few deaths—my apologies for the delay. As this is a family banquet, let's dispense with the formalities."
Only the Grand Commander could speak of killing as casually as this.
The guests exchanged uneasy glances but dared not utter a word of complaint.
Lu Yuan grinned and said, "Take your seats."
Only after the banquet's most distinguished guest, Great General Han, settled in did the others sit, their trepidation undiminished.
Lu Yuan scanned the room, his gaze landing on Lu Xingzhou.
Lu Xingzhou rose to his feet. "Grand Commander Lu."
Lu Yuan gave him a pleasant smile. "How fares the health of Elder Madame Lu?"
Lu Xingzhou answered politely, "Grandmother is well, thank you for your concern."
Lu Yuan looked again at the empty seat and asked, "And your esteemed son?"
Lu Xingzhou's expression grew complicated. "My son…"
Lu Yuan chuckled lightly. "Wouldn't happen to be that your son holds this gathering in disdain, refusing to show me proper courtesy, would it?"
Lu Xingzhou hurriedly answered, "Such words are heavy, Grand Commander. My wife sustained an injury, so my son has stayed home to attend to her."
"Father!"
Lu Lingxiao's voice echoed from the doorway.
Lu Yuan's lips curved slightly, his gaze unreadable as he remarked, "Madam Lu seems to have recovered quickly."
Embarrassment flashed in Lu Xingzhou's eyes as he turned to his son with a stern voice. "Lingxiao, come greet the Grand Commander."
Lu Lingxiao cast a cold gaze at the man before him, whose age and appearance bore only a slight difference from his, and unwillingly cupped his hands. "Grand Commander."
Lu Xingzhou whispered, "Why are you so late? Where is Qianqian?"
Lu Lingxiao hesitated, avoiding the question.
A young woman in plain attire entered, supported by Lu Luo.
Her face was veiled, revealing only a pair of soft, pitiful eyes.
Lu Xingzhou immediately recognized that she was not Meng Qianqian.
He shot a sharp glare at his son.
Lu Lingxiao held Lin Wan'er's hand firmly and said under his breath, "Father, I'll explain later."
Lu Yuan's gaze fell upon their entwined hands, his lips curling as he asked, "Ah, is this the Young Madam?"