That afternoon, Wen Qingye arrived at the Wen Family's estate.
Lush bamboo cast long shadows in the tranquil, ethereal atmosphere. The corridor was long and winding.
Wen Qingye had lived here for over a decade. He couldn't help but pause as he walked, taking in every familiar brick and tile.
The lady of the Liu Clan was doing needlework under a palm tree. Her face first lit up with joy upon seeing Wen Qingye, but then it stiffened. "You're back," she said. "Let me ask you, what is this whole business with the Eighth Prince?"
"That's purely a Zixu matter. I don't even know the Eighth Prince," Wen Qingye said.
The lady of the Liu Clan said disbelievingly, "You don't know him? If you don't know him, why would he risk offending the Jia Family for you?"
Wen Qingye didn't know whether to laugh or cry. 'Some things only get more convoluted when you try to explain them.'
"Mother, rest assured, I will handle this matter properly," Wen Qingye said with a smile.
