It was a dark night. The candlelight flickered in the study of the Xingyuan Marquis Mansion. The window frames were tightly closed, and not even a trace of wind could get in.
Hong Yingrong sat at the desk, her fingertips trembling slightly, as secret letters were spread out in front of her.
Xue Yuanchu and Xue Zhongfu stood on both sides with solemn expressions. Under the candlelight, the faces of the three looked particularly pale.
"This...how is this possible?" Xue Zhongfu's voice tightened, and his fingers pinched the edge of the letter tightly, almost crushing it.
The letter was written by the old marquis Xue Yonghuai himself. The handwriting was vigorous and powerful, and every stroke revealed determination.
"My wife, Mrs. Hong, personally declares:
In a battle against the Western Rong, someone in the army was secretly trying to kill him with a poisoned arrow. If it weren't for his confidant who saved him, he would have died long ago.
However, the enemy is in the dark and we are in the light. If we return to the capital rashly, we will be killed.
Therefore, I discussed with the generals and decided to use the corpses of prisoners of war as a substitute, while I would hide my identity and temporarily take refuge in my ancestral home in the north.
Wait until the storm subsides and then reunite with your wife and children.
——Yong Huai’s last work.
Hong Yingrong's tears slid down silently, hitting the letter paper and leaving a smudge of ink.
She bit her lips hard to prevent herself from crying out loud.
"Father...is not dead?" Xue Yuanchu's voice was hoarse, his eyes showing both ecstasy and deep worry.
Xue Zhongfu raised his head suddenly, hope in his eyes: "Mother! Since father is in the ancestral home in the north, we should send someone to bring him back immediately!"
Hong Yingrong almost stood up, and she wanted to immediately order someone to prepare a carriage and rush to the north overnight.
But Xue Yuanchu held her hand and said in a deep voice, "Mother, no!"
"Why not?!" Hong Yingrong's voice trembled, "Your father is still alive! He has been... these years..." She couldn't go on. Thinking of her husband living alone in hiding, and not even daring to recognize his family, her heart was broken.
Xue Yuanchu took a deep breath and whispered, "Father said in the letter that someone wants to harm him. If the news of his fake death gets out, the person behind the scenes will definitely not let him go! If we go looking for him rashly, what if we alert the enemy..."
Xue Zhongfu also calmed down and nodded, "Big brother is right. Besides, whether the body in the coffin is really not my father, we still need to confirm."
Hong Yingrong closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down.
She nodded slowly, but her fingers were still tightly gripping the letter, her knuckles turning white.
"Yuanchu, you must immediately send someone reliable to secretly investigate in the north."
Her voice was low, but it was filled with unquestionable determination. "Remember, this matter must not be leaked at all!"
Xue Yuanchu nodded solemnly: "Son, I understand."
Two days later, at the ancestral tomb outside Beijing.
Dark clouds hung low, the mountain wind howled, and several makeshift sheds were erected outside the cemetery, housing coffins from several nearby families that had been damaged by rain.
Hong Yingrong was dressed in plain clothes and walked slowly towards them, holding the arm of her second son Xue Zhongfu. Her face was sad and her eyes were slightly red, looking like a widow who had lost her husband.
Xue Zhongfu whispered to the servants, "Open the coffin and rebury the body."
Several strong servants came forward and carefully lifted the coffin lid.
The corpse in the coffin had almost turned to bones, with a thin silk scarf covering its face. Although the shroud had rotted away, it was still recognizable as the attire worn by the old marquis when he was buried.
Hong Yingrong walked forward slowly, her body trembling slightly, as if she couldn't bear to look any longer.
Xue Zhongfu supported her and whispered, "Mother, if you can't bear it, go to the side and rest first."
Hong Yingrong shook her head, but insisted on going forward and gently lifted the clothes on the shoulders of the corpse with trembling hands.
On the right shoulder, the bones were exposed and an old arrow wound was clearly visible.
Her pupils suddenly contracted and her breathing stagnated.
This injury...is not right!
The old marquis had indeed been shot in the right shoulder, but after the wound healed, it was left with a horizontal scar, not a deep, penetrating wound like this! This corpse...isn't him at all!
Her head buzzed, her vision went dark, her body shook violently, and she fell straight backwards.
"Mother!" Xue Zhongfu was shocked and held her up.
Hong Yingrong's face was pale, her eyes were closed, and she had fainted.
The servants around him immediately panicked. Xue Zhongfu shouted, "What are you panicking about? The old lady is too sad. Help her into the carriage!"
He glanced solemnly at the corpse in the coffin, and he knew in his heart that his father was really still alive!
After Hong Yingrong was helped onto the carriage, she soon woke up.
She gripped Xue Zhongfu's wrist tightly, and although her voice was soft, every word carried weight: "This matter involves the serious crime of deceiving the emperor. Apart from you and your elder brother, no one else must know about it."
Xue Zhongfu nodded heavily and lowered his voice, "My eldest brother mentioned it yesterday, saying that he wanted to tell my third brother..."
"No!" Hong Yingrong straightened up suddenly, then leaned back against the car wall due to dizziness. "Ji Yan is kind-hearted and can't hide anything. Besides, if he knew your father was still alive, he would be eager to look for him, which would make things worse."
After returning home, the mother and her two children discussed the matter secretly until three o'clock in the morning.
The candle wax piled up like a hill, reflecting the solemn faces of the three people.
Finally, Hong Yingrong made the final decision: "Next month is the Zhongyuan Festival. I will go to the north under the pretext of returning home to pay respects to my ancestors. I will tell others that Shanqiu's illness is not getting better, so I will take her with me and ask for the blessings of the ancestors."
Xue Yuanchu frowned: "But my third brother is getting married in October..."
"Don't worry, I won't miss the auspicious date." Hong Yingrong stroked the jade bracelet on her wrist, which was put on her by the old marquis himself.
"We'll set out in August and reach the north in half a month if we gallop. If all goes well, we'll be back in Beijing in September."
The sound of a night watchman's drumming could be heard outside the window. Xue Zhongfu suddenly lowered his voice and asked, "Mother, who did father offend back then?"
Hong Yingrong was also confused and couldn't figure out what was going on.
"For some things, the less you know, the safer you are. Just remember, from today on, everyone in the Marquis' Mansion must behave more respectfully and politely than before."
The next morning, when Xue Jiyan came to pay his respects, he saw his mother packing her luggage and was surprised: "Is mother going out?"
"Take your little sister back to the old house in the north to live for a while."
Hong Yingrong smiled as she folded a crimson cloak into the box. "The imperial physician said she needs to rest and recuperate. I thought the ancestral home is quiet and peaceful, so it's a good time to offer sacrifices to the ancestors and pray for their safety."
Xue Jiyan's eyes were slightly red: "It's all my son's fault for being unfilial. He made me, at such an old age, have to travel so much..."
"Silly child."
Hong Yingrong straightened his collar and said, "When you get married, mother will definitely bring your sister back to attend the wedding."
Outside the window, cicadas suddenly started chirping, and the midsummer sun shone through the window lattice, casting mottled light and shadows on the boxes and cages.
The eighth day of the seventh month is a good day to travel.
At daybreak, carriages and horses were already ready in front of the Xingyuan Marquis Mansion.
Six carriages with green curtains were arranged in an orderly manner. The one in front was hung with a plain curtain, which was the carriage used exclusively by the old lady.
At three quarters past noon, the convoy arrived at the west city gate.
The three Xue brothers were escorted all the way out of the city.
Xue Yuanchu whispered, "I have sent my personal guards to escort you along the way. If you encounter any unusual situation, please light a red incense stick immediately."
As the convoy went farther and farther away, Xue Yuanchu suddenly noticed that in the teahouse beside the official road, there was a man wearing a bamboo hat who was always facing this direction.
When they looked closely, the man had disappeared in the morning mist, leaving only a half-finished cup of Biluochun tea on the tea table, emitting a strange green color.
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