Asking for a good thrashing, in every sense of the word.

Jiang Luan's proactive embrace instantly excited Qi Shaolin, who had been somewhat wilting just a moment ago.

Since the delivery had arrived at his doorstep, letting it leave again would be a difficult task.

Jiang Luan had originally only intended to express his joy, and just as he wanted to take a step back, his waist was caught and supported by Qi Shaolin.

"Hey," Jiang Luan's head was full of question marks as he pressed down on Qi Shaolin's hands, "Wait a minute!"

Qi Shaolin gave Jiang Luan no room to argue, forcefully pulling him close and deepening the kiss.

Intimidated by the sense of danger emanating from Qi Shaolin, Jiang Luan simply let the fellow thoroughly kiss him from top to bottom.

"Damn you!" Jiang Luan finally snapped back to his senses, grabbing a handful of Qi Shaolin's hair and pulling him away. "Are you insane? Look at where we are?!"

Having had his fill of kissing, Qi Shaolin shed his bloodthirsty beast-like aura and transformed once more into an obedient little puppy, wagging his tail at Jiang Luan. "I'm sorry, Wife. You suddenly threw yourself at me just now, and I couldn't control myself for a moment."

"..."

Jiang Luan never would have imagined that he—a big, rough man... well, currently having very little to do with being big and rough—could actually pull off a seduction using his own looks.

Facing Qi Shaolin's "docile" expression, Jiang Luan's urge to rage vanished into thin air, leaving him with no choice but to pat Qi Shaolin on the arm. "Let's go. We're going to rendezvous with Zuo Lang."

Zuo Lang had previously explained to Jiang Luan that his mother was a servant in the Prince's Estate who emptied the nightstools and swill buckets.

Later, when Prince Suiping was married off to Yunjiang City, Zuo Lang voluntarily offered to go along as a dowry servant. His mother remained behind in the Prince's Estate; though mother and son were separated, her treatment improved considerably and she was reassigned to the estate's laundry workshop.

The moment Zuo Lang entered the estate, he wished he could sprout wings to go see his mother. However, as a lowly-ranked errand boy, he was restricted to guarding his master's side and could not wander freely about the manor, leaving him with no choice but to wait by the main gate for news from Jiang Luan.

Knowing how anxiously Zuo Lang was waiting, Jiang Luan jogged over quickly.

"Let's go, let's go," Jiang Luan said upon seeing Zuo Lang carrying four or five bundles, voluntarily taking one from him. "Where is the laundry workshop? Let's head over ahead of time before they finish their meal."

Zuo Lang said nothing, giving a slight nod. Only his trembling fingers betrayed his state of mind.

Seeing him shiver so much that he could barely hold his bundles, Qi Shaolin—in a rare display of kindness toward Zuo Lang—helped take the rest of the luggage and patted Zuo Lang's shoulder in reassurance.

Zuo Lang took a deep breath. "It's this way. Follow me."

He was intimately familiar with the layout of the Prince's Estate. The path to the laundry workshop was burned into his dreams, a road he walked in his sleep every single night.

Although the Prince of Suiping returned home to visit his family every year during the Longevity Festival, the entourage selected was never fixed. After all, Dou Kou was surrounded by servants who had come with her as part of her dowry from the Prince's Estate; who wouldn't want to return home to have a look?

Even if Zuo Lang was lucky enough to be chosen, he could not wander about at will and was forced to stay close to the Qi family.

Before every departure, Zuo Lang would always spot a thinly-clad woman standing beneath the parasol tree. Separated by the crowd, mother and son would exchange a distant glance. Though they could not see each other's expressions clearly, their hearts beat as one, conveying everything without a single word.

Zuo Lang had once considered finding an opportunity to take his mother far away and escape. But his mother was born into a slave registry, and her deed of sale was held within the Prince's Estate of Beiding. If the two of them simply fled like that without any means of making a living outside, they would undoubtedly starve to death.

Yet Jiang Luan had promised to rescue his mother today!

Zuo Lang no longer had time to feel excited.

His mind was practically blank, allowing his two masters to help carry his bundles as he led them with practiced ease through the Prince's Estate, penetrating deep into the inner courtyards.

Though the servants along the way cast very strange looks at them, Qi Shaolin's face served as an all-access pass. Many recognized the foolish young master of the Qi family and naturally refrained from offering excessive obstruction.

Thus, the three of them entered the laundry workshop with completely unobstructed passage.

Once they stepped into the back courtyard of the Beiding Prince's Estate, the scenery changed drastically.

While the front and middle courtyards of the manor could still be considered grand and imposing, the living quarters reserved for servants deep in the inner courtyard were far more dilapidated.

The laundry workshop was even worse.

To call it a laundry workshop was generous; it was essentially nothing more than two rundown thatched cottages, with numerous bamboo poles strung up across the courtyard to dry freshly washed garments.

Jiang Luan found it hard to believe that thatched huts could exist within the residence of a Prince of the First Rank. It was clear just how harshly the masters mistreated their servants.

As soon as they stepped through the courtyard gate, their view was blocked by layers upon layers of drying clothes and bedsheets.

Yet despite the wretched state of the place, the air was filled with a refreshing scent of soap pods, punctuated by the sound of someone's persistent coughing.

"Mother..." Zuo Lang wiped the corner of his eye and made to charge forward, only to have Jiang Luan press down on his shoulder.

"Wait," Jiang Luan frowned. "Why does it sound like there are other people inside?"

Though they were blocked by the drying sheets and linen, Jiang Luan was as meticulous as a needle and spotted several pairs of embroidered shoes through the gap between the bottom of the sheets and the ground, immediately calling a halt to Zuo Lang.

Though Zuo Lang was burning with eagerness to see his mother, he knew better than to ruin the major plan and stepped back accordingly.

Hiding behind the bedsheets, the three of you peered cautiously into the courtyard.

"You old hypocrite, what are you pretending for in a place like this?!" a sharp female voice rang out from the courtyard. "Don't tell me you think that because your son came back from Yunjiang, you've got something to rely on? You're utterly dreaming!"

Hearing this, Jiang Luan's heart sank as he leaned forward to take a look.

He saw a young woman kick over a wooden washbasin with a single strike.

The wooden tub had been filled with clothes that were currently being rinsed; her kick sent them spilling all over the ground.

Water splashed onto the courtyard floor, instantly turning the dirt into a muddy soup that stuck to the freshly washed garments.

An elderly woman with a head of white hair was bent over, trying to pick them up, only to be shoved aside by the young woman.

"Did you hear me, you old hag? The young lady's clothes must be scented with incense after washing before they can be brought back to my room! How many times do I have to tell you? Do you even have ears?!"

The old woman had already been coughing and her body was frail; shoved violently by the shrewish woman, she nearly crashed face-first into the threshold.

Fortunately, she managed to reach out and steady herself against the door frame, stabilizing her stance.

At this sight, Zuo Lang was consumed by fury and nearly rushed out, but Qi Shaolin pressed a hand onto his shoulder, forcing him down.

Jiang Luan was also frowning deeply at the scene.

Needless to say, the aged and emaciated old woman was undoubtedly Zuo Lang's mother. As for the girl currently throwing her weight around in the courtyard... she was not dressed lavishly; she even wore a simple wooden hairpin, save for a jade round pendant worn at her chest that looked rather precious. She bore no resemblance to a mistress of the Qi household.

Pressing a hand to her chest, the old woman coughed a few times and told the girl, "I followed the young mistress's instructions, scented the clothes, and delivered them."

"Look at what kind of cheap incense you used!" The girl's voice was as shrill as a whistle as she shrieked, "Ten-cash-a-box miscellaneous incense from the roadside—is that something humans are supposed to use? I wanted the kind used by the concubines in the manor!"

"But miss... *cough, cough*... I really... *cough*... don't have any money..." the old woman said with difficulty between coughs.

"No money? Then why didn't you go steal some from the concubines' quarters? Being old and useless is one thing, but how can you be so utterly stupid!" The girl sneered. "And the reason I call you an old hag is precisely because of this: before bed the other night, I clearly saw you in your room counting money, a whole jar of it! Don't you dare stand there and tell me you have no money!"

"No, no, I have no money..." the old woman said nervously.

"I see you won't shed tears until you see your coffin!"

With a cold huff, the woman searched around the courtyard, pushed away a large stone in the corner, and revealed an abandoned dog-hole.

Inside sat a pottery jar.

"Old hag, you certainly know how to hide your money!" The woman cursed as she pulled out the jar. "An old thing with not many years left to live, I don't know why you bother hoarding so much cash. You might as well let this young lady spend it for you..."

Seeing this, the old woman's expression soured. Panicking, she lunged forward to snatch it back. "Girl Hong, you mustn't! That is the money I saved for my son to take a wife!"

However, the woman paid the old woman no mind whatsoever, shoving her roughly aside and clamoring, "What sort of impoverished son could a nightsoil-dumping mother possibly raise? Who would ever be willing to marry him? Give it up!"

Staggering back a few steps from the push, the old woman nearly tumbled to the ground.

Yet instantly, a pair of hands supported her from behind.

"Are you alright?" asked the young man who had steadied her.

Staring blankly at this unfamiliar young man, the old woman failed to react for a moment.

His appearance was sudden, and his face completely alien.

The woman froze at the sight, knitting her brows as she interrogated him, "Who are you? How dare you trespass into the Prince's Estate!"

The reason she had the confidence to be so aggressive was twofold: first, the young man was dressed in short-cut work clothes patched with fabric—not even errand boys dressed this way, meaning he was certainly not an esteemed guest visiting the manor today; second, while the Prince did keep a few actors in the estate, this man possessed ordinary features and looked nothing like someone who could serve others with his looks.

Yet the young man's voice turned out to be quite pleasant—crisp like spring ice breaking, sounding like a clear spring echoing through a valley.

With neither servility nor arrogance, he replied, "I am a distant maternal nephew of Aunt Zuo, and I've come specifically to visit her. My visit was approved by the master; otherwise, with the Prince's Estate's strict security, the gatekeepers would never have let an outsider in so easily."

Zuo Lang shared his mother's surname, which meant the old woman's surname was Zuo, with the single given name Cui.

Staring with utter perplexity at the young man supporting her, she knew full well she had no such nephew.

Nevertheless, the old woman kept her silence, watching quietly as the situation unfolded.

The young man's words held a measure of reason, causing the woman to give a reluctant, validating nod.

Softening her tone slightly, she asked, "Then what is your name?"

"This humble one's surname is Die, like the Die in rising and falling," the young man said. "With the single given name Die, like a butterfly. Because my health was weak since childhood, my family gave me a girl's name. May I ask how the young lady is addressed?"

"My name is Chunhong. You may address me as Lady Hong," Chunhong said. "I say, Diedie..."

"Yes," the young man responded instantly.

Chunhong: "..."

Why did she suddenly find that somewhat odd?

Yet the young man stood there with a sincere expression, waiting for Chunhong to continue. "Lady Hong, please go on."

"Die... tsch, whatever, what kind of ghost name is that?" Choosing to drop the name entirely out of impatience, Chunhong said, "I don't know what this old... what your Aunt Zuo said about me behind my back, but I, Lady Hong, am not deliberately making things difficult for you two. It's just that your Aunt Zuo is lazy-handed and clumsy, unable to get even a single task done properly..."

"Lady Hong," the young man suddenly interrupted her, "aren't your arms getting tired holding that pottery jar? Why don't you hand it over to me? After all, it belongs to the Zuo family; there's no need to trouble you with keeping watch over it."

"..."

Since a young fellow from the family had shown up, Chunhong temporarily found no suitable excuse to misappropriate the old woman's money, leaving her no choice but to let "Diedie" take it.

Once the young man accepted the pottery jar, he handed it directly to the old woman beside him.

Clasping the pottery jar tightly to her chest, the old woman looked at the young man with eyes brimming with gratitude.

"I say..."

Chunhong wanted to continue, but now that the young man had retrieved the money, he had lost all interest in listening to her babble.