Xue An trembled all over and his knees hit the blue brick floor heavily.
"Why, Madam, do you say that..."
Hong Yingrong grabbed the tablet, her fingertips almost digging into the wood grain.
"The handwriting on this memorial tablet is clearly the Marquis's own handwriting! How could a 'dead' person write a memorial tablet for himself?"
Xue Shanqiu was so frightened that he covered his mouth. There was a flurry of footsteps outside the ancestral hall, and then it stopped abruptly.
"You still remember to come out?" Hong Yingrong's voice suddenly choked. "You hid in the dark and watched us mother and daughter. Is that fun?"
There was silence inside and outside the ancestral hall. Xue Shanqiu thought his mother was sad and must have misheard the sound.
Xue An fell to his knees with a thud, his forehead hitting the blue bricks hard.
"Old Madam, you are wise! My Xue An family has been following the Xingyuan Marquisate for generations. We would never dare to deceive our superiors or our subordinates!"
His voice choked with sobs, his hands tightly grasping the hem of his clothes. "In the past few years, every time I went to the capital to deliver New Year gifts and harvests, I was happy in my heart. I am happy that the Marquis' Mansion has the old lady in charge, and the young masters are all outstanding people!"
Hong Yingrong stared at the old servant who had been with the Xue family for more than forty years. The white frost on his temples was particularly glaring under the candlelight in the ancestral hall.
She naturally knew Xue An's loyalty, but if she didn't take drastic measures now, she was afraid that she would never find out the truth.
The old lady suddenly shouted, pointing her finger at Xue Yonghuai's tablet.
"I already know that the old marquis' body in the coffin in the capital is fake!" Her voice exploded between the beams and pillars of the ancestral hall, "I also know that the old marquis is in the north! If you don't tell the truth today——"
The crimson sleeve swept across the altar, and the incense burner fell over with a thud. "Even if I have to dig up the ancestral house three feet deep, I will find him, dead or alive!"
"Mother?!" Xue Shanqiu exclaimed and took two steps back. The blood drained from the girl's pale face, and it took her a long time to realize the meaning of her mother's words.
Xue An was shaking all over, with tears streaming down his face as he dropped his head to the ground: "Madam... I'm not trying to deceive you by not telling you... It's really..." He suddenly fell silent and looked towards the side door of the ancestral hall in horror.
Hong Yingrong followed his gaze and saw that the carved wooden door leading to the backyard of the ancestral hall was shaking slightly.
"Shanqiu, help me over there." Hong Yingrong's voice suddenly became terrifyingly calm.
Xue Shanqiu hurriedly supported his mother, but found that his mother's arms were as tense as a fully drawn bowstring.
Under the ancient locust tree in the backyard of the ancestral hall, a burly figure was turning around in panic.
The autumn sun shines through the branches and leaves, illuminating the empty right sleeve.
Hong Yingrong stopped and a gasp that sounded like both crying and laughing escaped from her throat.
"Xue Yonghuai." Those three words split the stagnant air like a quenched blade. "How long are you going to hide?"
The figure's back shook violently, and he slowly turned his face to the side. Xue Shanqiu suddenly broke free from his mother's hand and rushed forward like a madman: "Daddy?!"
The girl's cries startled all the birds perched in the trees.
Xue Yonghuai gently patted his daughter's cheek with his rough left hand and wiped away her tears with his fingertips. He walked slowly towards his wife, and with every step he took, his empty right sleeve swayed in the wind.
"Madam..." His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken for many years, or as if he had been suppressing it for too long.
Hong Yingrong bit her lip tightly, tears welling up in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall: "I don't deserve to be called Madam!"
Her voice trembled, "I'm just an outsider of the Xue family. I don't even have the right to know whether my husband is dead or alive!"
Xue Yonghuai smiled bitterly, slowly raised his left hand, wanting to touch her face, but stopped in mid-air.
Hong Yingrong finally couldn't help it and grabbed his empty right sleeve, and the cloth wrinkled in her palm.
"Your hand..." Her voice suddenly choked and she couldn't say any more.
Xue Yonghuai chuckled softly and used his remaining left hand to embrace his wife and daughter. "It's a long story. By giving up this arm, I saved my life!"
Xue Shanqiu hugged his father tightly, his tears soaking his clothes: "Daddy."
Hong Yingrong took a deep breath, and finally raised her hands to hug her husband back, her fingertips trembling slightly: "Do you know that these three years..."
Xue Yonghuai closed his eyes and rested his chin on her hair: "I know, I know everything."
Outside the ancestral hall, the autumn wind blew up the fallen leaves, and the sunlight penetrated the shadows of the trees, sprinkling dappled light on the family of three.
At this moment, Xue Yonghuai suddenly raised his head and said loudly to the high wall of the ancestral hall: "This knight has been watching here for so long, why not come down and have a cup of tea."
Hong Yingrong and Xue Shanqiu were both startled. They followed his gaze and saw a nimble figure flipping down from the wall, landing without making any sound.
The man was dressed in dark blue clothes, with a scimitar hanging from his waist. His face had deep features but with a kind of gentleness that was unique to the Han people.
He clasped his fists and bowed to Xue Yonghuai. "My name is Nurhadu. I have heard of your reputation as a brave warrior since I was a child. Now that I see you, I can see that your reputation is truly well-deserved."
Xue Yonghuai leaned on his one arm and said with a smile, "I'm old now, not as I used to be."
Everyone moved to the inner room. Xue Yonghuai sat down in the main seat in the hall. Hong Yingrong sat next to him, her eyes never leaving her husband's empty right sleeve.
Nurhadu frankly stated his identity as a prince of the Western Rong, and Xue Yonghuai's expression froze. He did remember that there was a prince of Han Chinese descent in the Western Rong royal court, but he had never expected that it would be the man before him.
Under the candlelight, he carefully looked at Nurhadu's eyebrows and eyes, and suddenly felt inexplicably familiar.
Nurhadu smiled calmly, without saying anything. Many things are fleeting. Now that it's in the past, let it go.
His gaze suddenly turned to Xue Shanqiu, and a gentle smile appeared in his eyes.
Xue Shanqiu was already emotionally agitated because her father was still alive. When he stared at her so intently, her cheeks flushed red. She lowered her eyelids in panic, and her fingers unconsciously tightened the silk ribbon hanging around her waist.
"I dare to..." Nurhadu suddenly turned around, knelt on one knee in front of Xue Yonghuai, and said in a clear voice like the sound of metal and stone, "I would like to ask the old marquis to marry your daughter, Miss Xue Shanqiu."
Xue Yonghuai narrowed his single eye. Although he had lived in seclusion in the north for the past three years, he had never stopped trying to find out what was happening in the capital.
Naturally, he knew that the prince of Xirong in front of him had petitioned Emperor Li Longze to marry Shanqiu three times in the court, and had secretly helped the marquis's mansion many times when it was in danger.
Hong Yingrong looked carefully at the young man kneeling on the ground.
If it were three years ago, she would have flatly refused this marriage.
But now, looking at this young man who remained true to his original aspirations even when the Marquis' Mansion was in the most difficult times, approval gradually emerged in her eyes and she nodded gently.
"Hahaha!" Xue Yonghuai suddenly burst into laughter, his expression heroic. "Good boy! You secretly escorted them back to the north all this time. So this was your plan?"
He slammed his left hand on the table and said, "I agree to this marriage!"
Xue Shanqiu's body shook when he heard this, and the silk handkerchief in his hand fell to the ground.
She hurriedly bent down to pick it up, but saw Nurhadu picked up the handkerchief first. When he returned it with both hands, his fingertips gently stroked her palm.
Xue Yonghuai and Hong Yingrong looked at each other, and the old lady sighed softly: "It seems that this is a destined fate."
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