Chapter 281

After resting for three days, Wang Chun’s coffin was sent back to Wang Village by a designated escort, accompanied by Wang Xiubai and their three sons. Wang Xiujin and Wang Xiuyun only saw them off to the city gate. Upon returning to the Li residence, Xiujin slept deeply, finally recovering his strength. Soon enough, he was busy again; the New Year was approaching, and he wondered if his elder brother would manage to return to Wuxian in time to bury his sister-in-law before the festival. After a while lost in speculation, Xiujin dismissed these tangled thoughts and set about organizing the slaughter of sheep and cattle in the estate. At least ten heads were to be sent to the palace, and relatives and friends could not be neglected, his own household even less so. After calculating, he realized the number was unusually large, and felt a pang of regret at the loss.

After giving instructions to the steward, Xiujin hurried away. The steward worked efficiently, quickly dividing the meat among the recipients: the palace received the most, followed by the Li and Wang families, then the families related by marriage, friends, and finally the workshops and shops. He told the butchers to prepare the meat especially well for the first two days.

The day after the palace received the beef and mutton, the Fourth Prince paid a visit, but Xiujin was nowhere to be found. When the prince finally tracked him down, he was confronted with Xiujin nursing a knife wound, and his expression soured considerably.

Xiujin felt particularly unlucky—stabbed with a knife in the capital, in broad daylight, and not a single person managed to apprehend the assailant. All his martial training seemed wasted.

“What happened? How did you get hurt?” The news of Xiujin’s injury spread before he could suppress it; everyone who needed to know already knew. It wasn’t surprising that word traveled fast—his reputation was simply too prominent.

“I was leaving the snack shop after a meal when a group boxed me in, and then I was stabbed. They fled right after.” Xiujin spoke in a weak, fragmented tone. Looking back, he realized his own carelessness. He had assumed the capital was heavily guarded and that no one would dare commit such a crime in broad daylight, least of all outside his own shop, but he had been ambushed.

“The shop assistants chased after them,” his servant whispered, nearly in tears. He had been at his master’s side, yet Xiujin had suffered a serious injury.

“They must have planned it,” Xiujin added. He doubted the assistants could catch up. Sure enough, before long, Shopkeeper Wang arrived at the Li residence, sweating profusely to report that the culprits had eluded pursuit.

“Investigate!” The Fourth Prince’s command sent all the major offices in the capital into a flurry.

General Li wore a dark expression, and Lord Wang looked grim as well. General Li handed some documents to his eldest grandson, while Lord Wang ordered his men to thoroughly examine anyone who had conflicts with his son. He didn’t care if he was accused of abusing his position—if there was nothing to hide, what was there to fear? Shopkeeper Mi, at the general store, told his staff to keep their ears open for any news. The Song and Chun families, being related by marriage, also sent people to quietly inquire, knowing their fortunes were tied together.

Those who were usually friendly with Xiujin sent people to investigate as well. If he had died from the stab, they would have needed to put on a show for the sake of the families allied with the Wang clan. Fortunately, although injured, Xiujin’s life was not in danger.

The palace dispatched several imperial physicians for a consultation, revising the prescriptions repeatedly and using all the rare medicines bestowed by the emperor on Xiujin. Drinking the bitter medicine, Xiujin felt utterly tragic; so many affairs awaited him before the New Year.

“Think of nothing else. All you must do now is focus on recovery. As for your attacker, even if I must dig three feet into the earth, I will see them caught,” Li Linshan said, holding Xiujin’s hand. When he had seen Xiujin’s abdomen bleeding uncontrollably, even on the battlefield facing the enemy’s slaughter, Linshan had never felt fear, but his hands had trembled then—and even now, the fear lingered deeply.

Xiujin nodded. Worrying would do no good. Yachang stood quietly to the side, his eyes full of concern. Madam Wang sat on the other end, her face extremely tense. Her youngest son was her lifeblood, and to be stabbed out of nowhere—how could she possibly rest easy? Were it not for the Fourth Prince’s presence… Madam Wang’s hands clenched tight.

“Mother, I’m all right. Trust that the Fourth Prince will soon apprehend my assailant,” Xiujin said, noticing his mother’s hands and hastening to comfort her. Yet he did not realize how pale he looked from blood loss; his words, though reassuring, carried little conviction. Every time he spoke, he bore the pain of his wound pulling, barely able to endure it. For some reason, his mind wandered back to the end times: at first, there was medicine to be found, but later, not only medicine but even clean cloth became scarce. People had to endure—those gravely injured willingly embraced death, not out of nobility, but because they knew even if they crawled back, death awaited them still.

“Xiujin,” Linshan gripped his hand tightly. Just now, he had felt a deep sadness emanating from Xiujin, but he couldn’t fathom its origin—what had Xiujin experienced today, or perhaps in his past?

“I was just thinking—on the battlefield, you may not receive timely treatment as I have.” Xiujin clasped Linshan’s hand in return, remembering the scars that crisscrossed Linshan’s body. Those were not marks of heroism, but the proof of countless trials between life and death. They exchanged no words, simply gazing at each other, reading the worry in each other’s eyes.

Madam Wang looked back and forth between her youngest son and Linshan, feeling somewhat disconcerted. Turning away, she saw Yachang’s worried face and beckoned to her grandson, who shook his head—he wanted to stay by his father’s side. Madam Wang sighed, accepting that the child was growing up.

Xiujin nudged Linshan’s hand, signaling him to escort his mother away. Her presence only heightened her worry; after the recent ordeal with his sister-in-law, her spirits were already low, and now with his injury, he feared her health might not withstand the strain. Before Linshan could rise, Xiuyun burst in, heading straight for the bedside, almost reaching for the quilt before Song Hongyi stopped her. Xiuyun glared at her husband; Xiujin was stunned by his eldest sister’s speed, momentarily forgetting to react. When he finally came to, he tugged at the corner of his mouth. Luckily, he’d dressed after his wound was bandaged, or else his sister would have seen everything.

“At your age, you’re still so rash,” Madam Wang exclaimed in fright at her daughter’s actions, hurrying over to pull her back.

“I…” Xiuyun caught herself, realizing her mistake. Glancing around at the elders in the room, she quickly greeted them before asking about her brother’s injuries.

With so many people around, Xiujin could hardly rest. He forced himself to stay alert and speak. The imperial physician promptly addressed those present: “Lord Wang needs rest—please take your leave.”

Everyone murmured in agreement, offering words of encouragement for his recovery, then departed to the main hall to discuss how to apprehend the culprit. Only Linshan and Yachang remained in the room. Yachang climbed up from the foot of the bed, carefully sitting beside his father, tears shimmering in his eyes as he fought to keep them from falling. Xiujin had no strength left to worry about his son; once the crowd dispersed, he slipped into sleep, truly exhausted.

Linshan watched his son and shook his head. Yachang wiped his tears with his sleeve, clenching his fists—he resolved to practice martial arts to protect his father.

Xiujin slept until the next day, forgetting his injury. Sleeping in one position had left his neck stiff; he instinctively rolled over, pulling at his wound and gasping in pain, his face contorting like a bun, the agony overwhelming.

“What’s wrong?” Linshan rushed over at the sound. Last night, he had slept on the soft couch, fearing he might hurt Xiujin if they shared a bed. “Where are you uncomfortable?”

“I tried to turn over and pulled at the wound,” Xiujin panted, slowly recovering, though the pain lingered.

“I’ll pour you some water. You barely ate last night; you should start with porridge this morning, then take your medicine,” Linshan said, heading to pour water. If he could, he would rather bear Xiujin’s injury himself than witness his struggle with pain—he must be suffering greatly now.

Xiujin forced himself to sit up and drank some water. Even such a simple action made his wound ache, drenching him in sweat.

“Father, does it hurt?” Yachang climbed down from his little bed and ran to his father’s side, frowning in concern.

“It’s nothing; I’ll be fine in a few days.” Xiujin patted his son’s head. “Later, you should go to your father to start your studies.”

“Father has some matters to attend to today; Yachang doesn’t need to go,” Linshan relayed what his father had said the night before.

Xiujin nodded. Likely, his father wanted to catch the assailant. But even if they brought the man before him now, he might not recognize him. He was only grateful he could see labels invisible to others. “Any leads?”

“Don’t think about that. You just need to recover. Mother has sent Sister Liu to prepare your meals; the imperial physician has instructed her on what you can and cannot eat. You won’t be stuck eating porridge every meal,” Linshan replied, thinking about the search outside. He wanted to personally capture the assailant, stab him a few times, throw him in prison, and, if possible, petition the emperor to let him mete out the punishment himself.

Xiujin thought about it and realized it couldn’t happen so quickly. “Yachang, stay home with me, all right?” he asked. Yachang nodded eagerly. Xiujin smiled, then looked at Linshan. “Go take care of your duties. There’s so much to do in the barracks—don’t let my injury halt everything.”