Chapter 56
Meihua laughed softly at his expression.
"Oh… how will you understand?" she murmured. "You don't even know the reality."
She leaned closer.
Right near his ear.
Her voice barely above a whisper—
"Won't you call me mother?"
A beat.
"I fed you with my own milk… when you were barely alive."
Silence.
No one else heard.
Only him.
Wuming froze.
Completely.
His teeth clenched.
His voice came out low.
Controlled.
"Is that so…?"
A pause.
Then—
"Then tell me, dear mother…"
His eyes hardened.
"Why did you send the snake to kill me?"
"…Lan'er. To spy on me."
"To poison me… more than twenty times."
Meihua stilled.
The word—Mother.
It lingered.
Echoed.
Something flickered in her eyes.
Brief.
Gone.
She smiled again.
Faintly.
Mother… huh?
Oh lord… why make it so hard for this poor woman…
A soft laugh escaped her lips.
Almost amused.
Almost tired.
Then—
She placed her hand on his shoulder.
Gently.
Like a familiar touch.
Like something that shouldn't feel familiar—
But did.
And she stayed there.
Close to him.
Smiling.
Unreadable.
She looked at Wuming, her face inches away from his her black irises collided with Wuming's golden irises.
Her fingers rested against his cheek, both palms cupping his face with a gentleness that did not belong to the woman everyone feared. Wuming did not move. For a moment—just a fleeting, dangerous moment—he was reminded of someone else. Of warmth that never stayed long enough.
Yin fu.
Meihua's eyes searched his, dark and deep, like a void that had swallowed too much to ever reflect light again. Yet there was something there—something soft, something bitter.
She exhaled quietly, her thumb brushing faintly against his skin as if confirming something only she could see.
"Because I want something which only you have," she said, her voice low, steady.
Wuming did not flinch. "The power of the clan master?"
Her lips curved, slow and knowing, her face inching closer until their breaths nearly touched. "You're really sharp, Wuming… you truly do precede your reputation in this estate."
His gaze didn't waver. "I don't care about it at all. If you want it, snatch it."
A soft laugh escaped her—light, but hollow beneath. "If you want something to happen, you have to actively take it, find it, chase it, and obtain it… because if you don't sacrifice for what you want, what you want becomes the sacrifice, Wuming."
He answered just as calmly, "That's true. But still… you're shameless enough to try to kill your own half-son, yet you accuse me of being shameless towards my own half-mother. Don't you see where that comes from?"
For the first time, something flickered across her face.
Not anger.
Not pride.
Something deeper.
Something… tired.
Her grip on his face softened instead of tightening. She looked at him as if time itself had paused around them, as if the corridor, the maids, the watching eyes—none of it existed anymore.
Wei Zhi silently bowed. "My lady," she murmured, pulling the others away with her. Even Xie Zheng followed, glancing once before lowering his head. The corridor emptied, leaving only silence between them.
Meihua didn't acknowledge anyone else.
Her entire world, for that moment, was him.
"I'm looking at you," she said quietly.
Wuming frowned slightly. "What are you doing?"
"You're not weak anymore," she continued, almost as if she hadn't heard him. "You've grown… stronger. And beautiful. Just like Princess Yin Fu."
Wuming's expression didn't change, but inside—
Why is everyone so strange…?
Her eyes lingered on his face, tracing features she had once seen much smaller, much more fragile. His pale skin, his golden eyes, the quiet strength in his posture. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly before stilling again.
Why did my fate have to be so cruel…?
She inhaled, slow and steady, as if gathering words she had never meant to say aloud.
"Fate was never on my side," she murmured, her voice softer now, stripped of its sharp edges. "I know nothing will go according to my plans. Plans are futile before fate. If something is meant to be… it will be."
Her gaze drifted for a second, then returned to him.
"I don't know about you, Wuming, but I believe in fate. Everything happens for a reason… even if we don't understand it. Sometimes we learn those reasons quickly… and sometimes we spend our entire lives searching for them." Her voice didn't break, but it grew quieter. "Why you meet someone. Why you lose someone. Why you were even born. Why things happen the way they do…"
Wuming stood still, listening.
Not interrupting.
Not agreeing.
Just… listening.
"I think about it constantly," she continued, her expression unreadable now. "But in the end, everything reaches where it's meant to. There's nothing I can do to change the outcome." A faint smile touched her lips—fragile, almost invisible. "It always ends the way it should. And if it doesn't… then I leave it to God."
Her hands slowly slipped away from his face.
The warmth vanished.
And just like that—
She was Meihua again.
Her face turned cold again, the faint warmth vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, her father's words echoing sharply in her mind—no one in that house is yours, not even the child you fed with your own milk, he will bite you and annihilate every single person of yours, your children, you, the whole clan—and with that, whatever softness had lingered in her eyes hardened completely. She stepped back, her hands falling to her sides, and without another word she turned away, walking in the opposite direction, her long dark hair flowing behind her, her posture straight and unyielding, carrying the silent authority of an empress despite being nothing more than the second wife of the clan master; there was something in the way she moved, something fluid and untouchable, as if even the air parted for her, as if water itself followed her command.
Wuming stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, his golden eyes tracing the distance she created between them, and a thought quietly surfaced in his mind—did she really feed me?—but the question lingered without an answer, dissolving into the only conclusion he allowed himself: only mother can answer that. He turned away as well, his expression returning to its usual calm emptiness as he made his way back toward the others.
Under the large tree at the center of the estate, they were all gathered, the atmosphere completely different from the tension he had just left behind. Wei Zhi, Yinghua, Weiyang, and Xie Zheng sat together, scattered comfortably beneath the shade, with small plates of cakes placed between them. The scent of something sweet lingered faintly in the air. As Wuming approached, Yinghua noticed him immediately, her face lighting up with a gentle smile as she picked up a piece of cake along with a small tangerine candy and held them out toward him.
"I don't like sweets," he said the moment he reached them.
Her smile faltered for just a second at his words, but she didn't withdraw her hand, only tilting her head slightly as she replied softly that the cake wasn't very sweet. He looked at her for a brief moment, then reached forward and took the cake from her hand. "Then I'll eat the cake as a tribute… to thank you," he said, taking a bite.
"Thanks for what?" Yinghua asked, her curiosity clear.
"For carrying me on your back yesterday," he answered simply.
Her smile returned, wider this time, warmer. "No problem."
Nearby, Wei Zhi sat between Weiyang and Xie Zheng, both of them holding onto her arms as they talked over each other, completely ignoring her attempts to speak, their voices overlapping in an oddly chaotic harmony. Wuming watched the scene for a moment, and for once, a faint smile appeared on his face.
Yinghua noticed it. "Do you find it funny, seeing Wei Zhi annoyed?" she asked.
"Kind of, Yinghua," he replied.
The way he said her name—calm, steady, yet carrying a strange depth—made her pause. Something about it lingered, making her heart stutter for just a second before she quickly looked away, masking it with a small smile as she handed him another piece of cake. He accepted it without hesitation this time, eating quietly.
"Try chocolate brownies next time," he said casually.
Her eyes lit up instantly. "What are brownies?"
He explained without looking at her, his tone matter-of-fact, "They are small, rich chocolate dessert bars with a soft, dense texture, somewhere between a cookie and a cake, often with a slightly crisp top, made from cocoa, sugar, butter, flour, and eggs." Yinghua listened carefully, committing every word to memory as she nodded with determination. "I'll try making them sometime."
"Sure," he said, finishing the cake.
He turned to leave, walking away just as quietly as he had arrived, still eating as he went. Wei Zhi noticed immediately, her attention shifting from the chaos beside her as she tried to get up, but Weiyang and Xie Zheng tightened their hold on her arms, stopping her mid-motion.
"I need to go to the washroom, leave me," she said quickly.
Both of them paused, exchanged a look, then reluctantly let go. "Fine," they said almost at the same time, "but you better come back in ten minutes. We haven't finished our hide and seek game with you and Wuming."
Wei Zhi nodded absentmindedly, already stepping away, her eyes following the direction Wuming had gone.
Wuming was roaming across the vast grounds, the land stretching wide and green around him, so open that it almost felt as though the forest itself stood just at the edge, watching in silence. The wind moved softly through the grass, and a few guards were stationed at a distance, their presence firm yet unobtrusive, blending into the stillness of the estate. His steps were slow, measured, his hands resting behind his back, his posture straight, his expression carrying that same distant calm.
Wei Zhi came from behind, her pace quick enough to catch up. "What happened?" she asked, her brows slightly drawn, her eyes fixed on him. "What was Lady Meihua saying to you?"
Wuming did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze slightly toward her and said, "You tell me first, Wei Zhi… for how long have you been with me?"
She paused for a second, surprised by the shift in question, then answered, "Well… after you were born. Properly since you were around the age of three. Since you had a sense for feeling and thinking, I must say."
Wuming listened without interruption, his gaze drifting forward again, his thoughts moving inward rather than outward. He thought about it quietly—human beings begin developing cognitive abilities from birth, with sophisticated thinking and problem-solving emerging early in infancy; while basic cognitive exploration begins at birth, significant milestones like understanding object permanence occur between six to twelve months, and rudimentary symbolic thought begins around eighteen to twenty-four months. His mind processed it not emotionally, but analytically, as if measuring time, memory, and awareness against his own existence.
Wei Zhi watched him from the side, her expression shifting slightly as she noticed the way he had gone silent, the way his thoughts seemed to move somewhere far beyond the present moment. She hesitated, then spoke again, her voice softer but more certain this time, "You're changing."
Wuming did not respond to that.
He simply continued walking, the faint rustle of the wind filling the space between them, his silence neither denying nor accepting her words, leaving them suspended in the air as if they had never fully reached him.
"And before that?" he asked quietly.
Wei Zhi frowned slightly. "Before that… you were just a child. Quiet, but nothing unusual. Why? What else do you expect at two to be an expert ?"
He did not respond immediately, his eyes lowering just a fraction, something unreadable passing through them before disappearing again. The wind moved faintly through the trees, carrying a soft rustle across the grounds.
End of 56