Volume One: Carefree Journey Amid Indistinguishable Paper Leaves Chapter Fifty-Three: Gaze

Thank you, dear friend “Pisces’ Incomplete Love,” for your support as a helmsman. Judging from your name, it seems you've had a few romances yourself!

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Yang Ning lay in bed, weary yet unable to sleep. Although Duan Canghai had temporarily resolved the chaos of inner energy within his dantian, tonight’s assassination attempt left him deep in thought.

The attempt on his life had clearly been carefully premeditated; his enemy not only knew his itinerary but had also devised an intricate plan to carry it out. Had he not noticed the flaw in the actions of that servant in green, he would likely have drunk the tea, and Zhao Wushang’s later examination proved it had been laced with deadly poison.

Evidently, their original intention was to poison him, but when he saw through the assassin’s disguise, they immediately switched to a second plan. Reflecting on it, if he truly were the heir of the House of Brocade, unsuspecting and unguarded, his life would have been forfeit.

The first person he suspected was the gray-robed elder disguised as a eunuch. Zhao Wushang had a point: the assassin knew the layout of the Zhōnglíng estate intimately, suggesting he must have been familiar with it. That gray-robed elder appeared to be a man from the palace, and since the estate belonged to the royal family, anyone with connections to the palace was likely acquainted with the grounds.

If the gray-robed elder had uncovered his true identity, yet could not expose the imposter openly, then an assassination in secret would serve his purposes well. One thing Yang Ning understood: behind every action lay a motive. To attempt the murder of a marquis' heir was no trivial matter—there must be a powerful reason. Whoever stood to benefit most from his demise was the most likely suspect.

Having narrowly escaped death, Yang Ning burned with anger. He was not a complicated man; his principles were simple—repay kindness with kindness and revenge with revenge. If others left him alone, he did the same; if they crossed him, he would not hesitate to retaliate.

Though the target was the marquis’ heir, it was he, Yang Ning, who had nearly lost his life; the threat was now direct. Previously, he considered slipping away quietly, abandoning the perilous role of the marquis’ heir. Now, his resolve was to uncover the true hand behind the attempt on his life.

His would-be murderer could not be allowed to remain at large after nearly claiming his life.

Moreover, Duan Canghai’s warning left him anxious. The Divine Harmony Technique had absorbed the inner strength of many, and according to Duan, the energy within him now matched a third-rank martial master. Yang Ning did not know precisely how formidable a third-rank master was, but one thing was clear: as long as he couldn’t resolve this inner turmoil, he was in perpetual danger.

Since Duan promised to help him find a solution, Yang Ning could only rely on him for now. Until this threat was dealt with, unless the situation became intolerable, he must continue his charade as the marquis’ heir.

That night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. At dawn, someone knocked at his door—the funeral procession was to depart for Zhōnglíng early.

The funerals of noble families were elaborate affairs, demanding many rites. Though Yang Ning was spared the strenuous tasks, the endless ceremonies left him exhausted by day’s end. Besides burying Qijing in Zhōnglíng, they also had to pay respects at the Old Marquis’s tomb and conduct a memorial service.

In all of Great Chu, it was a rare honor for both father and son to be buried in Zhōnglíng, a testament to the glory once held by the House of Brocade.

Only at midnight did the matters conclude, but the funeral was not yet over. According to custom, upon returning to the marquis’ residence, a seven-day, seven-night series of rituals—known as the Soul Soothing Ceremony—must be held. Only after these rites would the funeral truly be complete.

The party did not linger in Zhōnglíng. After the taxing day, all were weary and rested outside Zhōnglíng for half a night. At dawn, they set out for the capital, returning to the marquis’ residence late in the day, where Gu Qinghan had already made preparations, and the Soul Soothing Ceremony began that very night.

No one in the household, young or old, was permitted to leave during the first three days. As the legitimate heir, Yang Ning could not be absent for a moment. After three continuous days, his inherently frail body was utterly spent.

Fortunately, after three days, the family members could depart, leaving only the Taoist priests to continue the rituals in the hall.

After several days, his body prickled with discomfort. He took a long, satisfying bath, then collapsed onto his soft bed and slept so deeply that he lost all sense of time. When he finally awoke, he felt completely revitalized. He jumped out of bed, clad only in his underpants, bare-chested, and threw a few punches, feeling stronger than before.

Looking out the window, he saw the sky was just beginning to brighten, unclear whether it was dusk or dawn. Feeling hungry, he was about to call for food when a voice sounded behind him, “Ning’er, you’re awake?”

Startled, Yang Ning turned and saw Gu Qinghan had somehow entered unnoticed. She was elegantly dressed in a finely tailored, high-quality violet palace gown, reclining on a large chair, her delicate hand supporting her cheek, a lock of hair falling across her face. The purple gown accentuated her alluring curves, and by the lamplight, she looked like a mermaid reclining on the shore, radiant and enchanting.

She seemed just awakened, her beautiful face touched by a languid, seductive charm. Rising, she stretched gracefully, her slender waist drawing attention to her full, proud bosom, straining against her garments.

Yang Ning’s heart skipped, a rare flush rising to his cheeks. He remembered noticing her graceful figure in mourning attire, but now, with her curves revealed—slender waist, rounded hips, full bosom—she was even more enchanting, imbued with the captivating allure of a mature woman.

According to custom, after the first three days of the Soul Soothing Ceremony, mourning clothes were to be put aside and regular garments resumed, or misfortune might follow.

“Third Mother, why... why are you here?” Yang Ning hastily grabbed a coat and threw it on.

Gu Qinghan glanced out the window and smiled. “It’s nearly dawn, Ning’er. I’ll have someone bring you food.” She explained, “Canghai told me two days ago you encountered an assassin at Zhōnglíng. I’ve been worried and came by several times to check on you. Each time you were asleep. Last night, you were still murmuring in your sleep when I came. Fearing you’d wake hungry, I waited here and must have dozed off myself.”

Yang Ning approached and saw that, though she was as beautiful as ever, she looked somewhat wan. He knew that, since Qijing’s death, the weight of the vast household had fallen almost entirely on this delicate woman’s shoulders. With so many troubles inside and out, her burden was tremendous. That she endured was already remarkable.

Such a great family, yet none of the men were of any use; only this frail woman held it all together. Yang Ning felt a surge of emotion and said gently, “Third Mother, you don’t look well. Please, don’t overexert yourself.”

“So Ning’er knows how to care for others now,” Gu Qinghan replied with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. There’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“With the funeral nearly over, you should rest. If there’s anything I can do, let me handle it. I’m old enough now—can’t just eat and do nothing. Otherwise, how am I different from the rest?”

Gu Qinghan was taken aback, but delight shone in her eyes. Softly, she said, “Ning’er, you truly have grown up. If the General knew, he could rest easy.” She took his hand, looking him over with concern. “Are you hurt? Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

Once again, Yang Ning felt the soft, delicate touch of her hand and smiled. “Don’t worry, Third Mother. I’m fine. That assassin was nothing special—killing me isn’t so easy.”

“Still joking, are you?” Gu Qinghan lightly patted her chest, sending a ripple through her bosom, then fixed him with a reproachful glare. “You really don’t know the seriousness of things! You were just kidnapped, and now assassins come for you. Ning’er, the world is full of ill-intentioned people. You must be more careful.”

As Yang Ning caught the faint fragrance from her body, his heart stirred. Gu Qinghan frowned, “The estate’s guards are truly to blame, unable to protect you. They must be punished. But... who could hate you enough to try killing you?”

“Don’t worry, Third Mother. Whoever is stabbing me in the back, I’ll get to the bottom of it,” Yang Ning said with a cold smile. “I won’t let him get away with it.”

“You? Investigate?” Gu Qinghan laughed, “What could you possibly find?”

Yang Ning feigned distress, “Third Mother, you underestimate me? Am I really so useless?”

Gu Qinghan quickly replied, “No, it’s my fault. You’re the heir of the House of Brocade; you’re certainly not useless. You’ll achieve great things, I’m sure.”

These past days, Yang Ning had clearly changed—sharper and more capable than before, which pleased her immensely. Like Duan Canghai, she thought the kidnapping must have awakened him, and feared her words might dampen his confidence.

“By the way, has the silver from Jiangling arrived?” Yang Ning suddenly asked. “It’s been some time, and our pawnshop is still mortgaged to the bank.”

Gu Qinghan frowned. “I’m not sure what’s happened, but there’s been no word. I only hope nothing’s gone wrong en route. There’ve been delays before, but never this long. I’ve sent someone to inquire in Jiangling; we should have news in a few days.” She smiled, “Ning’er, you truly are helping me now. Life will be easier for me from now on.”

Seeing her radiant smile—lips as red as ripe cherries, gently trembling—Yang Ning’s heart skipped a beat, and he stared, momentarily lost. Gu Qinghan noticed his gaze and was about to speak, but suddenly sensed something was off. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly withdrew her hand. “I... I’ll go fetch your food.”

Yang Ning, realizing his own awkwardness, gave a sheepish smile and turned away. Gu Qinghan headed for the door, but glanced back at him, her face still warm.

She had always regarded Yang Ning as a child, but just now, his gaze was utterly different—a man’s gaze toward a woman. As an experienced woman, she was sensitive to such things. Outside, she covered her face, thinking, “Ning’er has grown up. At times, I must be more careful. That look just now...” And then, “He’s grown, it’s normal for him to be curious about women. It’s time he found a wife. That Su Zhen is truly despicable, going back on her word...”

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