Chapter 029: Return My “Innocence” / The Grand Play Begins

When the commotion erupted near the stone table in the garden, Zhou Ziheng was at the banquet, drinking with old friends.

Today marked the conferment of his eldest son’s title—a joyous occasion! Zhou Ziheng had indulged in an extra cup of wine and was feeling somewhat lightheaded when he suddenly heard a disturbance from another corner of the garden.

The garden was too vast; the noise from that side couldn’t reach this one. The Zhongyi Marquis frowned as he looked over, catching only glimpses of overlapping robes and a bustling crowd, unable to discern exactly what had happened.

Glancing around, he noticed Qin Chanyue was absent, Zhou Yuanting was nowhere to be seen, and Liu Yandai was also missing—not a single person was available to handle the situation!

How were the servants managing things? Hosting a banquet was one thing, but causing trouble was another. Now, as the head of the household, he had to personally intervene!

A surge of irritation rose within him, feeling humiliated before the esteemed guests. Yet, he couldn’t show it. He could only apologize to the crowd before rising to address the matter himself.

In response, Zhou Ziheng’s elder brother, Zhou Ziji, stepped forward to entertain the guests on his behalf.

Zhou Ziheng then stood up and hurried away, his Dengyun Boots tapping briskly as he rushed toward the scene of the incident.

Amid the overlapping figures and glittering jewels, a sharp, piercing cry faintly reached his ears, tightening his heart with dread.

As Zhou Ziheng approached, the crowd gathered around the area. Upon seeing him, everyone stepped aside with strange expressions, clearing a path for him.

The looks on their faces were all too peculiar—each frowning at him with a mix of fear and an indescribable eeriness. There was a hint of pity, a touch of concern, yet within that concern lay a trace of wariness.

Cold sweat broke out on Zhou Ziheng’s back as he wondered inwardly: What on earth had happened?

When he finally pushed through the chaotic crowd, he was met with a sight that chilled him to the bone!

Several young masters who had come to enjoy the banquet were now pierced with sharp arrows! The arrows had come from one direction—some embedded in people, others deeply lodged in the grass and trees. Those struck lay in pools of blood, each groaning in agony. What rooted Zhou Ziheng to the spot, unable to move, was the sight of his eldest son at the forefront, bearing the most arrows!

His legitimate eldest son, his brilliant, scholarly, and talented son—Zhou Yuanting!

An arrow had pierced through Zhou Yuanting’s chest, blood seeping out and staining his snow-white robe a glaring crimson.

Zhou Ziheng watched as blood gushed from Zhou Yuanting’s mouth like a spring from Baotu Fountain—bubbling and spurting out. The blood, originally red, turned dark from the sheer volume, mixed with frothy spittle.

Just moments before, he had been standing beside Zhou Ziheng, courteously mingling and exchanging pleasantries with the guests. Who could have imagined that in the blink of an eye, he would now be lying on the ground?

Zhou Ziheng felt as if all the blood in his body had turned to ice. He could hear the surrounding noises and words, but they seemed to make no sense to him. It was as if his thoughts had been drained away, leaving only an empty shell. He stood there, staring blankly, his eyes wide with shock, fixed on his son’s face.

And before Zhou Ziheng, a resplendent figure lay collapsed—none other than Qin Chanyue.

The once dignified and haughty Madam, upon seeing her own son injured, burst into tears on the spot. Her heart-wrenching cries moved everyone present to sorrow, bringing tears to their eyes.

Not only Qin Chanyue, but also the fathers and mothers of the other young masters lost their composure upon seeing their sons in such a state.

Who doesn’t have children? To watch one’s child die right before their eyes—who could bear such a thing!

And before this crowd, Zhou Wenshan had already been dragged from his wheelchair by the Houfu’s private soldiers and forced to the ground.

He was still laughing.

Zhou Wenshan’s body had long been crippled; he couldn’t move from the waist down. Even without anyone holding him down, he couldn’t get up, left to lie there in a wretched state.

But though his waist was useless, his heart was filled with delight. Struggling to lift his upper body, his once calm and gentle face was now twisted with a frenzied smile. Everyone was watching him, but he didn’t care, laughing like a madman.

Zhou Ziheng stood frozen in place for a moment before tremblingly demanding, “What is going on here!”

Just moments ago, everything had been fine! How could it have turned into this in the blink of an eye! One of his sons dead, the other mad, the hall full of guests now stained with blood—why had this happened!

After Zhou Ziheng’s demand, one of the private soldiers nearby lowered his head and replied, “Reporting to the Marquis, the young masters were drinking and playing the pitch-pot game, enjoying themselves, when suddenly the third young master activated a mechanism in his wheelchair. The wheelchair shot out thirty sharp arrows, striking these young masters.”

Hearing this, Zhou Ziheng stiffly turned his neck to look at the wheelchair.

Beneath the wheelchair, various mechanical crossbow devices were indeed visible, shaped like a box, now empty except for the spent force spring used for firing.

At the sight of the wheelchair, the last shred of reason in Zhou Ziheng’s mind shattered. He rushed forward and kicked Zhou Wenshan in the face, distorting that laughing face and slamming his head heavily into the ground.

“You unfilial son!” Zhou Ziheng roared. “What were you trying to do! This is murder! This is murder!”

So many people! So many! Not just Zhou Yuanting, but also so many scions of noble families, all of distinguished birth. With so many dead, how could a single Houfu ever make amends!

Zhou Ziheng’s kick knocked Zhou Wenshan’s hair askew, his face deformed under the boot. Yet he still laughed, though his laughter shifted from loud guffaws to soft chuckles, muffled by the boot, leaving only faint echoes beneath it.

“What are you laughing at!” Zhou Ziheng roared, stomping down again and again.

But Zhou Wenshan on the ground didn’t care about being trampled. He had long since abandoned this body of flesh—death would be a release for him. The more furiously Zhou Ziheng kicked and beat him, the happier he became.

Slowly, he raised a pair of eyes identical to Zhou Ziheng’s, looking up from below at his own father.

Zhou Ziheng, the Zhongyi Marquis, stood high above.

A long, long time ago, he had admired his father so much. Back then, his mother said his father loved them, that he had only been forced to leave them behind. She said his father would eventually take them away and compensate them greatly. She also said his father was a gentle and refined man, upright his whole life, who had never done anything dishonorable.

But now, as he was kicked in the head and stepped on the face from below, his gaze wavering as he looked up at the person above him, he realized for the first time how ugly Zhou Ziheng truly was.

His mother had been deceived by him, and so had he.

This man loved them, but far less than he claimed. It was merely a shallow, casual affection, yet they had clung to it like a lifeline, like a ladder to the heavens, desperately reaching for that straw and climbing toward the lofty heights, unafraid even of the abyss beneath them.

And then, in the next moment, the straw snapped, the ladder shattered, and they fell.

His father—was nothing but a hypocrite.

“What are you laughing at!” Zhou Ziheng was nearly driven mad. He crouched down, grabbed Zhou Wenshan by the collar, and lifted him up, shouting angrily, “Why did you do this?”

At that moment, Zhou Wenshan’s face was bruised and swollen from the kicks, covered in dust, his nose broken and blood gushing out, his eyes swollen from the beating as he lay there in a wretched state.

But when Zhou Ziheng lifted his upper body, Zhou Wenshan raised his head high like a hero, his bloodied lips parting to reveal teeth stained red and white by the blood. He stared directly into Zhou Ziheng’s face and said, word by word, “Because they harmed me, so I had to take revenge. They took my legs, so I’ll take their lives.”

At the end, Zhou Wenshan laughed. “Father, if you won’t help me, your son will do it himself.”

When Zhou Ziheng heard these words, his mind buzzed with noise.

This is a debt of sin, he thought, this is a debt of sin!

And just then, from the crowd, Qin Chanyue let out a piercing scream: “My son—”

Zhou Ziheng turned to look and saw Zhou Yuanting lying on the ground, vomiting blood and unconscious.

Witnessing this scene, Qin Chanyue seemed overwhelmed by anxiety and anger, collapsing in a faint!

At that moment, Liu Yandai, who had been standing nearby, finally swallowed the last bite of her pastry with a “gulp,” took a deep breath, raised her head, and shouted the words she had held back for so long as if crying out to the heavens: “Pomu has a heart attack! Quickly carry Pomu to Qiufeng Hall for treatment!”

Yes, treatment!

With that shout, everyone in the courtyard sprang into action.

Maids and servants needed to find stretchers to carry the injured away and call the doctors from Qiufeng Hall to attend to them—Liu Yandai left with the unconscious Qin Chanyue, leaving the entire mess for Zhou Ziheng to handle.

After the initial shock and collapse, Zhou Ziheng seemed to have aged several years in an instant, filled with panic and confusion. He stared blankly at the pool of blood on the ground, as if unsure what to do.

And then, Zhou Ziji stepped forward.

As Zhou Ziheng’s elder brother, it was only natural for him to lend support at such a time. Zhou Ziji began to see the guests off on Zhou Ziheng’s behalf.

With an incident occurring during the banquet, they had to apologize, send off the guests, and handle the aftermath. Someone had to step up.

None of the guests in the courtyard were so tactless as to cause trouble at such a moment. As soon as Zhou Ziji began to see them off, the guests all rose and left in small groups.

Among the crowd, the Crown Prince was the first to rise and depart.

At banquets, esteemed guests typically arrive last and leave first, so they must be seen off first. When the Crown Prince stood to leave, Zhou Ziji hurriedly followed, offering apologies by his side.

The Crown Prince gave a faint “hmm,” his gaze drifting over the crowd before finally settling for a moment. Only then did he withdraw his eyes and depart, escorted by Zhou Ziji.

Once the Crown Prince had left, it was the Second Prince’s turn.

When the Second Prince rose to leave, he casually glanced toward a corner.

Receiving the signal, Bai Yuning, who had been standing among the flowers with her head lowered, trying to avoid the crowd, stepped out calmly. She blended into the throng and positioned herself behind the Second Prince, following him as they made their way out.

The Second Prince was cunning as a fox, while Bai Yuning possessed keen insight into human nature. As the two moved through the crowd, their eyes simultaneously fell upon the Crown Prince standing at the entrance before they calmly withdrew their gazes and exited the estate gate. Though they had never explicitly shared their ambitions, clever individuals always knew who their ultimate adversary was.

Once outside the estate gate, the Second Prince led Bai Yuning into the carriage.

Their carriage was exceptionally tall and spacious, constructed entirely of wood. Inside, it was divided into an outer room and an inner room. The outer room served as a tea chamber for entertaining guests, while the inner room contained a bed for rest. Every detail of the interior was lavishly decorated, and the carriage was remarkably stable. Were it not for the scenery steadily receding outside the window, one might almost mistake it for a finely crafted, compact living quarters.

After entering, the Second Prince walked to the tea table and sat down, while Bai Yuning knelt beside him, preparing to brew tea.

Tea utensils and a tea stove were always arranged beside the tea table, with boiling water constantly simmering in the stove, ready for use at any moment. With a graceful motion of her fair hand, Bai Yuning poured a stream of water like a winding dragon into the teacup. As a faint tea fragrance wafted through the air, she knelt and recounted the day’s events in detail.

“Regarding the Second Young Master of Jianming Courtyard, this servant has already negotiated with him,” Bai Yuning said respectfully, her brows lowered and head bowed. “He is willing to work for the Second Prince.”

The Second Prince rested one hand on the teacup, lightly tapping the table with his fingers as he raised his eyes and smiled at Bai Yuning.

Bai Yuning lived up to her name—like precious jade and condensed pearls. What was even rarer was that within this jade-like elegance, she possessed a heart of exquisite insight. Though mired in the mud, she always found the most opportune moment to strike.

A suitable chess piece.

A pity her status was too low; otherwise, she could have been taken as a principal consort, surely capable of managing his household affairs.

The Second Prince casually picked up his teacup, inhaled the aroma, and asked, “What are your thoughts on today’s events in the courtyard?”

Still kneeling behind the table, Bai Yuning replied with a calm expression, “Zhou Yuanting and his associates brought this upon themselves. Since they harmed the Third Young Master of the Zhou family back then, they cannot blame him now for retaliating.”

Back at the Houfu, she had already exposed Zhou Yuanting’s schemes, but she had been outmaneuvered and forced to leave the estate. With her defeat, Zhou Wenshan and Concubine Fang naturally lost as well, leaving Zhou Yuanting as the sole victor.

“Zhou Yuanting simply never expected Zhou Wenshan to overturn the board,” the Young Lady with delicate features remarked, a trace of mockery flashing in her eyes. “He himself is scheming and covets the boundless wealth of this world, so he assumes others would never dare to risk death.”

In Zhou Yuanting’s mind, he surely believed this mother and son would come to flatter him and seek his protection, never imagining they would stake everything on a desperate gamble.

Because in this world, clever people are unwilling to die. No matter how they live, as long as they can survive, that’s enough. The King of Yue, Gou Jian, endured hardships and slept on brushwood, waiting for the right moment to take revenge—isn’t this the same principle? Even if crippled, one can still sit in a wheelchair! With wealth and power, one could even have a dozen women sitting on their lap to bear children and continue the lineage, so why insist on dying?

They all believe that as long as they can survive, they can turn things around. Just like Bai Yuning, no matter how she was tormented in prison, she never sought death. Later, after entering the Houfu, she gritted her teeth and fought even harder. Others looked down on her, bullied her, but she endured and pressed forward, always convinced she could turn things around, so she wouldn’t die.

She knew she had the ability.

But Concubine Fang and Zhou Wenshan did not, and they knew they didn’t. These two fools were manipulated for most of their lives, and when pushed to the brink, they simply overturned the table and refused to play anymore.

For an ant, what does death matter?

For an ant determined to die, what does taking a few others along matter?

Neither is significant.

Zhou Yuanting wasn’t wrong. Everything he did aligned with his plans and interests. Every young master he encountered, after being schemed against, swallowed their grievances and endured. Unfortunately, Zhou Wenshan and his mother were different.

Those young masters and ladies from noble families had powerful backing. Once they lost, they would immediately cut their losses and leave, never lingering. But Zhou Wenshan and his mother had nothing.

They had only these meager stakes, and when they entered the game, they had to bet everything. If they lost, they lost it all. A gambler’s fate ultimately leads to failure, and for them, failure meant death.

So Zhou Yuanting ended up in this situation.

As Bai Yuning spoke these words, she vaguely felt she wasn’t much different from Concubine Fang and Zhou Wenshan. She had no chips either, only her own life. When she entered the game, she too had to bet everything. If she lost, it would also mean death.

Thinking of this, a faint smile appeared on her face.

It didn’t matter, she thought. She could still enter the game to gamble, and that was good enough. She hadn’t forgotten to increase her own stakes. Immediately, she said to the Second Prince, “In a way, this incident is for the best. The third branch is finished, the eldest branch is dead, and only the second branch remains standing. Now that Zhou Chiye is also under Your Highness’s command, in the future, won’t this small Houfu be entirely under Your Highness’s control?”

The Second Prince listened with delight, leaning over the table and laughing heartily.

The laughter drifted out through the carriage window, brushing over the treetops and startling the birds. The birds flapped their wings, cooing as they soared over the rooftops, past the eaves, and landed within the Houfu.

The Houfu was now shrouded in gloom.

After Zhou Ziji returned from seeing off the guests, he stayed in Qiufeng Hall to tend to the wounded, while Zhou Ziheng remained in the garden to deal with Concubine Fang and Zhou Wenshan.

Qiufeng Hall was the Houfu’s designated place for medical treatment. Usually, the young masters and the Marquis would be treated here, as would the maids and servants. The hall was spacious, with one male Doctor, one female medicine woman, and four young apprentices who prepared medicines. It was typically quiet and leisurely, but today, they were so busy they couldn’t catch their breath.

And that wasn’t enough! People from other households hurriedly brought their own Doctors over to help, and soon Qiufeng Hall was overcrowded!

While Qiufeng Hall was in chaos, the garden was enveloped in a deathly silence.

——

It was the transition between the late hour of Wei and the early hour of Shen. The midsummer afternoon sun shone quietly upon the lush vegetation of the Houfu. The garden of the Houfu was originally built on a vast scale, and for this banquet, over a hundred tables had been arranged. Now, there was no time to clear them away, leaving only a chaotic mess of chairs and tables. On the ground, traces of blood remained where the wounded had been dragged away. The entire garden exuded a sense of disarrayed stillness.

The guests had left, the servants had withdrawn, and only Zhou Ziheng remained.

He had not yet recovered from the grief and shock, his eyes still wide open as he stared at the person before him.

Concubine Fang had already been seized and forced to kneel beside her son by the private soldiers. Before them lay a pool of blood, yet neither showed the slightest fear, both wearing expressions of heroic defiance. When Zhou Ziheng looked at them, they raised their heads in return, meeting his gaze without flinching.

At first, Zhou Ziheng had frantically questioned them, but at a certain moment, he suddenly fell silent, standing motionless in place. Even now, he appeared dazed and disoriented. His pale lips trembled incessantly, and his somewhat aged face revealed traces of hesitation and confusion. Finally, he spoke his first words to Fang Qingqing that day.

“Why?” he asked.

Had he not treated her well enough? When he was gravely ill, he had insisted on bringing her back to the Houfu, paving the way for their son, and unhesitatingly bestowed the title of Shizi upon Zhou Wenshan—how difficult that had been! The Qin family was watching, Zhennan Wang was watching, the entire Chang’an was watching. He had risked everything to bring glory to this illegitimate son, yet it was this very son who proved unworthy. He had done all he could, fulfilled his duty, and had a clear conscience. Why, then, did they still treat him this way?

Concubine Fang raised her head high, just like Zhou Wenshan, and smiled faintly at him.

“Why?” she repeated the three words, turning the question back to Zhou Ziheng. “Why?”

Why had he not avenged their son? Why had he sought other women? He had sworn to love her for a lifetime, so why had he grown to despise her? Why had he neglected her? Had he forgotten the vows he once made? Why had she become like this—did he not understand?

The bone-deep hatred she had expressed countless times—how could Zhou Ziheng still have the audacity to ask “why”?

If she could, Concubine Fang wished she could drive an arrow into Zhou Ziheng’s body as well! Of course, Zhou Ziheng was not faring well either. With so many casualties, he would surely have to atone.

At this thought, Concubine Fang suddenly let out a soft, eerie laugh. She said, “Zhou Ziheng, does it hurt? Do you hate it? A calamity falling upon your head that you cannot escape—this is how I felt. Now, it is your turn.”

Zhou Ziheng looked at Concubine Fang’s stubborn expression and, after a moment, let out a low sigh. He said, “You are still dwelling on that matter. Both you and your son have gone mad.”

Forget it, Zhou Ziheng thought. The love and hatred between them were too tangled to unravel, and there was no need to speak of it anymore. They had long since transformed from intimate companions into bitter enemies.

Remove a single stroke from the character for “enemy,” and it becomes “old acquaintance,” but that stroke cannot be removed.

Because that stroke is the knife once thrust by the old acquaintance, a wound etched deep into the bone.

Of all the weapons in the world, none cuts deeper than the past.

Letting go was impossible. This pain would haunt a person for a lifetime, making them dwell on it, unable to forget. Yet others would not remember; instead, they would accuse them of “holding grudges,” being “petty,” or “fixating on trivial matters.” Thus, the only way to live freely was to strike back with equal force, becoming mutual enemies.

Zhou Ziheng also lacked the energy to continue the entanglement. He seemed to have aged ten years all at once, his back hunched, his eyes dim and weary. He waved a tired hand and said, “Take them away.”

Now, he needed to go to Qiufeng Hall to check on the wounded and apologize to the guests. Only after everything was settled would he return to deal with this mother and son.

Zhou Ziheng had his back to them, ready to leave, but the mother and son pair showed no fear at all.

They held their heads high, their eyes fixed unwaveringly on Zhou Ziheng’s retreating figure.

Just as the two were about to be dragged away, someone suddenly came running from the distance in a panic, shouting, “Marquis, Marquis! Wait, something terrible has happened!”

Zhou Ziheng halted his steps, his back stiffening as he looked up.

He had already heard too many “terrible” things today, and his heart trembled with each one. At the sound of these words, he immediately glanced over and saw that it was the Houfu’s doctor who had come running.

“Did something happen to the guests? Or Yuanting—”

“Reporting to the Marquis,” the doctor shouted as he ran, “the arrow wounds won’t be fatal for now, and neither the guests nor the Shizi have died. But halfway through treating the guests’ injuries, this old servant discovered that the arrows that struck them were poisoned! The poison is vicious! There’s no time to prepare an antidote now—we must ask Concubine Fang!”

Zhou Ziheng’s head buzzed.

Shooting arrows was one thing, but why poison them too?

As he turned around in shock, he suddenly heard a sharp laugh. Concubine Fang, dragged by two private soldiers, knelt on the ground covered in dirt. Seeing Zhou Ziheng look back, her serene and beautiful face twisted into a triumphant smile as she spoke word by word, “Zhou Ziheng, do you want the antidote?”

“What do you want?” Zhou Ziheng roared in fury. He no longer had any love for this woman—he wished he could kill her with a single stroke of his sword!

But such threats were useless against Concubine Fang. She wasn’t afraid of death.

When someone no longer fears death, what else is there to fear?

Concubine Fang watched Zhou Ziheng’s frenzy with satisfaction. Seeing him in such agony brought her joy. She relished the sight of him being driven to scream—so similar to her own state just days before.

So, Zhou Ziheng could lose his mind too. She had thought this man had no heart.

Feeling a surge of vindication, she put on a facade of tender affection to disgust him, her eyes curving into a seductive gaze. “Husband, why so angry? If you just do as I say, I’ll give you the antidote. I only want one thing.”

Concubine Fang looked at everyone and uttered a single sentence in a gentle tone.

Zhou Ziheng’s furious, contorted face froze, and he instinctively retorted, “Are you insane? That’s impossible!”

Concubine Fang smiled faintly and said, “Then kill me and Wenshan. Either way, eight young masters will accompany us in death.”

Zhou Ziheng’s face twisted even more grotesquely. Finally, gritting his teeth, he said, “Go, bring them here.”

A short while later, the young masters from Qiufeng Hall were hastily carried back to the main hall of the Houfu—they were told that the Houfu had found the antidote but needed the young masters to be moved, which was why they were brought over.

Not only the patients but also their parents were invited to the main hall of the Houfu.

The main hall of the Houfu was vast. The eight young masters lay on stretchers placed neatly on the floor, while their parents were seated in chairs. However, no one else from the Houfu was present, which infuriated the parents.

“What is going on?” one of the young masters’ mothers, a striking Madam, shouted angrily. “What game is the Houfu playing? My son was injured and poisoned in your residence, and instead of treating him, you bring him to the main hall. What exactly are you trying to do?”

What if her son dies!

At that moment, several figures entered from outside the main hall. Leading them was Zhongyi Marquis Zhou Ziheng, followed by Concubine Fang and Zhou Wenshan, who were being guarded by private soldiers.

After the three of them walked in, Zhou Ziheng looked around at everyone with a strange expression before saying, “Madam, do not worry. Today, I have invited everyone here to find the antidote for you all.”

This Marquis had also been forced to come at the last moment—just moments ago, Concubine Fang had been in the garden, demanding a reinvestigation into the matter of her son’s disability. She claimed that everyone present was an accomplice and said that as long as this group admitted it, she would be willing to provide the antidote.

At first, Zhou Ziheng thought she was being absurd and making a scene, but in the next moment, he thought, what if?

What if it really was this group who had done it? Then the injuries these people suffered today would be a case of reaping what they sowed, and he would no longer need to bear the consequences for their injuries!

The thought of so many noble families simultaneously seeking revenge and crushing him made Zhou Ziheng at that moment almost wish it really was this group who had done it—his nature was the most selfish and cold-hearted. Occasionally, he might show some softness or affection, but at critical moments, he would always quickly calm down and make the most decisive and appropriate choice.

So, gritting his teeth, he simply invited everyone over.

“Where is the antidote?” the anxious Madam below asked.

Zhongyi Marquis’s gaze swept over the eight people lying on the ground. With a hardened heart, he gritted his teeth and said, “The antidote lies in the hearts of you gentlemen. I ask you all to tell me the truth: did you have anything to do with my son’s fall from the horse that day!”

—

The news of the second trial being held in the main hall of Houfu was relayed from the main hall to Qiufeng Hall by Nanny Zhao.

At that time, Qin Chanyue and Liu Yandai were resting in a side room of Qiufeng Hall.