The gold wind was fine, and the leaves of the parasol trees fell one by one.
Come autumn in Shengjing, sudden nighttime rains were like sorrows; after one such night, the courtyard of the Palace Marshal’s Mansion was covered in fallen parasol tree leaves.
Early in the morning, Duan Xiaoyan got up to feed Zhizi; she had just swept away the fallen leaves when a gust of wind startled half the tree’s leaves into falling.
Xiao Zhufeng had just arrived at the Palace Marshal’s Mansion and had not yet entered the door when a shower of leaves fluttered down, landing on his shoulder.
He paused his steps, reaching to pluck the leaf from his shoulder.
It was a whole parasol leaf, its green hue turned into a beautiful golden yellow, displaying a bit of vivid warmth in the autumn morning.
He held the leaf as he entered.
Within the Palace Marshal’s Mansion, a few Imperial Guards were gathered together, idly chatting and eating breakfast; when they saw him coming, they quickly fell silent and stepped aside, their expressions turning serious.
Unlike Pei Yunmeng, although private affairs might be another matter, Pei Yunmeng always seemed to be smiling on any regular day, able to take a joke and liked everywhere, the Imperial Guards of the Palace Marshal’s Mansion enjoyed talking to Pei Yunmeng. He, however, was different, always cold and reticent; the Imperial Guards looked at him with a certain wariness.
He was accustomed to it.
By the time he returned to his room, the desk was, for once, not piled high with official documents. "Autumn Hunt" was approaching, and Pei Yunmeng was busy all day at the Martial Arts Field; meanwhile, he had some leisure time—the half year Pei Yunmeng had been in Su Nan, he had managed all the affairs of the Palace Front Office on his own.
Having rare free time, he wouldn’t go looking for things to do. After all, with Pei Yunmeng newly married, too much leisure could induce jealousy in the hearts of those alone amidst the tides of love.
Xiao Zhufeng sat down at the window, picked up a poetry collection from the corner of the desk, and slipped in the golden leaf just picked up.
Between the pages of the book, many leaves had already been tucked away; the already voluminous poetry collection felt even heavier, as if holding many secrets of autumn.
Duan Xiaoyan had once accidentally flipped through this poetry collection and was shocked to find the mixed-in dry leaves; he couldn’t help but ask him, "Brother, what kind of habit is this, putting so many leaves in a book?"
The literati of Shengjing might indulge in such elegant behavior, but he was merely a warrior, not one of the culturally refined, making the act somewhat incongruous.
Xiao Zhufeng turned his gaze towards the window.
The deep courtyard was deserted, the parasol trees had long withered, and the rustling west wind caused the bare branches outside to flail wildly.
He liked collecting fallen leaves.
Because he had once received a fallen leaf.
A leaf filled with a young girl’s heartsong, penned with delicate, clear strokes.
...
Xiao Zhufeng was an orphan.
A woman washing clothes by the river found him; when discovered, he was wrapped only in a piece of torn clothing, with nothing left behind as an identifying token. The woman took him to the Ciyou Bureau, and he grew up in the Ciyou Bureau from a young age.
The Ciyou Bureau took in all the orphans abandoned in Shengjing, and those children would leave the Ciyou Bureau to fend for themselves when they reached a certain age, or else have the fortune to be adopted. He grew up in the Ciyou Bureau until he was five, nameless.
One day, a man came to the Ciyou Bureau to pick someone. The man had a fierce scar at the corner of his eye, and his gaze was as piercing and sinister as that of a hawk; when his eyes swept over the orphans at the Ciyou Bureau, the children were intimidated by his fierceness, but only he did not flinch or evade, silently meeting his gaze head-on.
The man was somewhat surprised; then he pointed a large hand and gave the Ciyou Bureau ten silver pieces before taking him away.
After returning, the man asked for his name, and he shook his head.
Orphans at the Ciyou Bureau who remembered their names were called by those names, but he had been without knowledge of his parents from birth and thus also ignorant of his own name.
The man looked at him for a long while before speaking in a cold voice, "Tears of desolation fall in silence, leaves drift lightly with the wind. Since you have no name, from now on you shall be called Xiao Zhufeng."
Xiao Zhufeng.
He liked the name; it carried a sense of autumn grass withering along with the departed, a sorrow of falling leaves.
The man who took him away was Yan Xu, who later became his teacher.
Yan Xu taught him to read and write, as well as martial arts. Yan Xu was a government official in the Privy Council but also secretly pursued investigations into old cases. He took in a group of orphans, who worked for Yan Xu; with nothing to tie them down, even if they were to die, no one would care, just like withering autumn grass.
Among the orphans under Yan Xu, Xiao Zhufeng was the most outstanding.
He didn’t like to talk, always silent and off to the side, and when he grew ferocious, he was more ruthless than anyone; such a person was most suitable as a Death Warrior. At the age of twelve, he could already carry out missions alone, and Yan Xu began grooming him as his confidant.
At sixteen, Xiao Zhufeng was assigned a mission.
This mission was different from the past; it required no killing, no risking life, just protecting someone at Zhao Ning Manor.
That person was Pei Yunshu.
Later, Xiao Zhufeng learned that his teacher, Yan Xu, had once loved a woman in his youth who had married another and soon passed away, leaving behind a son and a daughter. After her son had left Shengjing for a distant place not long ago, Yan Xu wanted him to find a way to covertly enter Zhao Ning Manor and secretly protect the daughter of that woman and the young lady of the Pei Mansion, Pei Yunshu.
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