Volume One: Untraceable Paper Leaves in Carefree Wandering Chapter Thirty-Eight: Peach Blossoms Graceful in the Wind

With a single move, Yang Ning had already snapped Fifth Master’s leg and struck blood from Sixth Master’s head before calmly rising to adjust his mourning clothes and stepping out the door. The wailing of the two still echoed from the hall when the Third Elder hastily commanded, “Go in and see what’s happened!”

Someone rushed inside and soon called out, “It’s terrible! Fifth Master’s leg is broken, and Sixth Master… Sixth Master isn’t well either!”

Infuriated and anxious, the Third Elder bellowed, “Why are you still standing here? Carry them to the physician at once—hurry, don’t delay!”

Several people dashed into the mourning hall, first carrying out the injured Fifth Master, then supporting Sixth Master, whose forehead was streaming blood. Seeing this, the Third Elder’s rage and panic mounted. “Who did this?” he demanded. He had rushed out earlier and had not seen Yang Ning act.

“It was me,” Yang Ning answered from the side.

“You?” The Third Elder’s face darkened to iron. Pointing at Yang Ning, he exclaimed, “Even if your father were alive, he wouldn’t dare act so recklessly! Qi Ning, with this you cut yourself off from the Qi family.”

Yang Ning rolled his eyes and retorted, “They tried to desecrate the mourning hall. My father only just passed and is not yet buried—how could I allow anyone to behave so outrageously before his remains? Even if their rank were higher, I would not tolerate it. No matter who causes trouble here, I will not stand by.”

His words were blunt, nearly naming names.

The Third Elder trembled, finger shaking as he pointed at Yang Ning. “Very well… very well!” Turning abruptly, he shouted, “We’re leaving! This business… this business is no concern of ours now!” In a fury, he led his crowd away.

The moment they left, the courtyard fell into silence. Yang Ning sneered, but before he could say more, Gu Qinghan let out a quiet sigh behind him. “Ning’er, though they were wrong, the Third Elder is still your senior. You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that.”

“Age does not equal virtue,” Yang Ning spat. “They weren’t here to help, but to make trouble, Third Madam. Can’t you see? If they think to bully you, they’re dreaming. As long as I’m here, no one will lay a finger on you.”

As he turned, he saw Gu Qinghan standing close by, having clearly heard his words. Her beautiful eyes showed a trace of comfort, but then she frowned. “What did you just call me, child?”

“Ah?” Yang Ning was startled. He realized he’d slipped—“Third Madam” was the servants’ way of addressing Gu Qinghan. As the heir, he should have used another title.

He genuinely didn’t know Gu Qinghan’s exact position in the Jinyi Marquis’s household. She was clearly a significant figure, but whether she was the late Marquis Qi Jing’s concubine, he could not say.

Aunt Qiong was definitely Qi Jing’s concubine. If Gu Qinghan was as well, and called “Third Madam,” then she must have entered the household later than Aunt Qiong, ranking even lower. But from what he’d seen, Gu Qinghan showed no deference to Aunt Qiong—her demeanor and words were far superior. If they were both concubines, Gu Qinghan would never dare treat Aunt Qiong so.

Yang Ning regretted not asking more questions on the way to the capital.

He knew little of Qi Ning’s nature, only that the young heir was considered dull-witted. Had he inquired too much along the way, it would likely have aroused the suspicions of Duan Canghai and the others.

At this moment, Yang Ning no longer underestimated Duan Canghai. The man had deduced almost everything that happened at the ancestral hall and even surmised the origins of the Black Blade Battalion. Such insight came not only from keen eyes, but also from experience and knowledge.

Seeing Yang Ning dazed, Gu Qinghan assumed he was having another episode. She quickly soothed him, “Don’t overthink it. Call me whatever you wish—your Third Mother won’t mind.”

So she was to be called “Third Mother,” Yang Ning realized. Though his body was that of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old, the soul within was far older than Gu Qinghan’s. Calling her “Third Mother” felt awkward on his tongue.

“Third Madam, Young Master, I’ve already had people tidy up,” came a respectful voice from nearby. “As for Aunt Qiong, I’ve persuaded them to return for now.”

Yang Ning turned to see the speaker—a plump man with brush-shaped mustaches. When he entered the mourning hall earlier, this man had greeted him, but during the ensuing argument, had stood aside without a word.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been gone so few days you’ve forgotten Chief Steward Qiu?” Gu Qinghan took Yang Ning’s hand and glanced into the distance. There, Qi Yu was supporting Aunt Qiong away, both casting venomous looks their way before turning to leave.

Yang Ning paid them no mind and sized up Chief Steward Qiu. “You’re Chief Steward Qiu? When they bullied Third—Third Mother just now, why didn’t you say a word?”

His words were blunt as always, but Chief Steward Qiu, hearing them, only thought the young master had relapsed into foolishness. He forced a smile. “Young Master, though I am chief steward of the Jinyi Marquis’s household, in front of such people, I am but a servant. In such situations, how could it be my place to speak?”

“Didn’t Duan Canghai speak up?” Yang Ning snapped. “You’re the chief steward and outrank Duan Canghai in the household. Why not step forward yourself?”

Chief Steward Qiu looked embarrassed, but Gu Qinghan interjected, “Chief Steward Qiu, have someone clean up the mourning hall. As for the Third Elder, you’d best go in person. Such a serious matter—they won’t truly wash their hands of it. I, as a woman, shouldn’t go. The Young Master has returned, and the Grand Madam doesn’t yet know. I’ll take him to pay his respects.”

Chief Steward Qiu immediately replied, “Rest assured, Third Madam, everything will be handled properly.”

Gu Qinghan then said to Yang Ning, “Ning’er, let’s go see the Grand Madam.”

Gu Qinghan’s jade-like hand was as white as snow, soft as if boneless, and smooth as porcelain—a pleasure to touch. Were it not for the many servants around, Yang Ning would have liked nothing more than to hold that delicate hand forever. But with so many eyes watching, he felt it unseemly for a man to be led about by a woman. He gently pulled his hand free. Gu Qinghan was momentarily surprised, but her intelligence quickly caught on. She smiled sweetly, radiant and gentle. “Ning’er’s grown up—getting shy now?”

Yang Ning thought, If there were no one around, I’d have no shame holding you in my arms or kissing you senseless. But with so many people in the household, and me supposed to be a man, it really would undermine my dignity to be led about by the hand.

Gu Qinghan said no more and led the way, with Yang Ning following behind. The sun was still low in the sky, its rays filtering through the branches and casting dappled patterns of light and shadow.

Yang Ning, walking behind Gu Qinghan, found the Third Madam more alluring than ever. Even dressed in mourning white, her voluptuous curves could not be concealed. Her graceful figure swayed with every step, adding a dynamic charm to her already breathtaking beauty—a vibrant, living blossom under the setting sun.

Especially her full, rounded hips, wrapped in cloth, forming a perfect arc that swayed enticingly with her steps, her slender waist leading her hips in a mesmerizing rhythm—a mature woman’s sensuality that could set any man’s heart aflame.

A faint breeze carried a subtle fragrance from Gu Qinghan’s body, a scent so pure and refreshing it seemed to seep into Yang Ning’s very soul. He knew she wore no makeup on such a day, nor had she scented herself. It must be her natural fragrance. A beauty’s allure was indeed intoxicating.

Yang Ning didn’t pretend to be a gentleman, nor did he feel any need for restraint. After all, he was an imposter here, with no real ties to the Jinyi Marquis’s household or this beautiful woman. Even so, he couldn’t very well keep ogling her figure with servants passing by. If seen staring at the Third Madam’s curves, it would be most improper.

He allowed himself the occasional glance, but spent most of his time observing the layout of the marquis’s mansion.

The Jinyi Marquis’s residence was worthy of nobility—spacious and grand, with exquisite pavilions and corridors, rockeries beside flowing streams, and endless walkways. Even the gates were carefully designed—arched, hexagonal, or perfectly round. Yang Ning reckoned the estate covered several thousand square meters; in his own time, this would be a veritable gold mine. But now, draped in white mourning cloth, the entire place was shrouded in somber gloom.

After crossing several courtyards and a long corridor, they arrived at a small square courtyard, unusually quiet and still. Gu Qinghan pushed open the door, glanced back at Yang Ning, and whispered, “Ning’er, when we see the Grand Madam, don’t say much. She’s grieving—don’t upset her.”

“Don’t worry, Third Mother, I won’t say anything inappropriate,” Yang Ning replied, grinning at the beauty before him. Gu Qinghan nodded slightly, and the two entered the yard. Yang Ning noticed two golden-threaded bodhi trees at its center, with vines draping over the walls, swaying gently in the breeze. The subtle fragrance mingled with Gu Qinghan’s own, refreshing the spirit.

Entering the house, Yang Ning was greeted by the scent of sandalwood. The room was dim, and at the center stood a Buddha statue. Facing away from the door was a hunched figure. Gu Qinghan approached, motioning for Yang Ning to close the door. As he did, Gu Qinghan softly announced, “Grand Madam, the Young Master has returned.”

The hunched figure was shriveled, nearly curled into herself. Yang Ning realized this must be the Grand Madam of the Jinyi Marquis’s house. Gu Qinghan beckoned him over, and he saw an elderly woman clad in black gauze, motionless as a statue.

The room was deathly silent. After a moment, a frail voice spoke: “Take off your shirt.”

Yang Ning and Gu Qinghan both froze, exchanging a glance. Gu Qinghan leaned in and whispered, “Grand Madam, it’s the Young Master—he’s come back.”

“Take off your shirt,” the old woman repeated.

Yang Ning frowned. What a peculiar old lady—her own grandson returns, and instead of joy or affection, she greets him with such a strange command. What on earth was this about?

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