Meanwhile, Lady Mu was at home, consumed with anxiety. She couldn’t even bring herself to touch the red date and white fungus soup the servants had brought her. Years of restless nights had left her eyes bloodshot, dull, and weary.
She kept glancing outside, though there was no one there. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she turned around just once, the person she longed for would appear. But time and again, her hopes were dashed, leaving only sorrow in their wake. Nanny Sun, standing nearby, watched with a pained heart and gently urged, “Please, my lady, at least take a bite. If you keep staring like this day after day, you’ll fall ill before the young master returns. That wouldn’t do at all.”
Lady Mu sat down on the rosewood high-backed chair and sighed. “Why does my heart feel so unsettled? Those men can’t even string together a few comforting words—what if they end up making the boy dislike us instead? No, I must go myself. It’s been years since I’ve seen my son, and I’ve missed him terribly. If he could see how much his mother has longed for him all these years and agree to come back with me, wouldn’t that be better? Nanny Sun, go and make the arrangements. Pack lightly—we’ll leave at once.”
Nanny Sun was torn between laughter and tears. Night was fast approaching, and no matter how urgent the matter, they couldn’t just rush off without proper preparations. She quickly interjected, “It’s the dead of winter, my lady. The roads are covered in thick ice after the snowfall, slippery as mirrors. It’s far too dangerous to travel now.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Lady Mu reluctantly agreed, though disappointment weighed heavily on her. Still, she told herself she ought to be grateful—this was far better than the endless years of waiting without a single word of news. Those days had been unbearable, filled with despair that had nearly drained her of all her tears.
—
Meanwhile, Mu Hong was also troubled. What if Jicheng mistook him for some cruel, oppressive official and was too frightened to come? But instead of Jicheng, after days of waiting, it was his own mother who arrived—exhausted and travel-worn, yet still every bit the dignified noblewoman. The moment she stepped out of the carriage, she grabbed his sleeve and asked, “Have you seen him? Is he willing to return to the capital?”
Mu Hong smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Mother. I met him a few days ago and asked him to come to the city under the pretext of incomplete paperwork for the Qingshui Mountain contract. He must have been delayed by something—we just need to wait a little longer.” He didn’t dare tell her that he suspected Jicheng already knew something but was keeping it to himself. After all, as the local magistrate, Mu Hong was unavoidable if Jicheng wanted to live peacefully in Dongpo Village.
Sure enough, the very next day, before the sun had even reached its zenith, a bailiff hurried in to announce that a sturdy man named Jicheng was requesting an audience. At the time, Mu Hong was having tea with his mother—a freshly stocked Qimen black tea, perfect for the season. Overjoyed, Lady Mu stood up, her face radiant with excitement. “Bring him in at once!”
—
Jicheng had first delivered silver to Zhou Jing and exchanged a few pleasantries before making his way to the county seat. The entire journey, his mind was heavy with worry. His parents thought he slept soundly at night, unaware that he had overheard everything they said.
His uncle had shamelessly pressured them into adopting out a child. His mother adamantly refused to give him up, saying she had only settled here out of necessity, raising her child in peace while delaying her return to her duties—already a betrayal of the mistress who had trusted her. How could she let her young master become someone else’s child? But now, with his uncle holding this over them, she had no choice but to agree to give up her own son.
Though the words were few, they were enough for Jicheng, who was old enough to understand. He wasn’t their biological child. Yet he was content—his parents had loved him dearly, so he forced himself to bury the truth, never wanting to think of it again. He chose to believe he was just an ordinary man born in the countryside, and out of guilt toward Jiliang, he had devoted himself even more to the family. Little did he expect things to turn out this way.
He didn’t have to wait long in the cold before the bailiff politely invited him inside. The elegantly decorated room, warmed by an underfloor heating system, drove away the chill from his body, leaving him comfortable all over. Kneeling respectfully, he said, “This humble man is Jicheng from Dongpo Village, here to see the magistrate regarding the Qingshui Mountain contract.”
Lady Mu’s heart ached at the sight of a face so identical to her eldest son’s. It pained her even more to see her younger son kneeling before his own brother. He should have been a young master of a wealthy family—with a face like his, no one would dare look down on him. But now? She couldn’t help but resent the maid she had once trusted most. A child born with a silver spoon in his mouth had been reduced to a peasant farmer.
Mu Hong noticed Jicheng’s calm demeanor, his slightly haggard face betraying no emotion. He was simply waiting to settle the matter and leave. Glancing at his mother, whose lips trembled with unspoken words, Mu Hong felt a pang of sorrow. It was clear Jicheng had no intention of acknowledging their connection. No matter how much he and their mother suffered, Jicheng remained unmoved, as steady as Mount Tai, pretending ignorance. The bond of blood seemed to mean less to him than the hardships of village life. Annoyed, Mu Hong decided to cut to the chase. “I didn’t summon you here for some trivial contract. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that we look so much alike?”
Still kneeling, Jicheng replied in a low voice, his tone polite yet distant, bringing tears to Lady Mu’s eyes. She covered her face with a handkerchief and sobbed quietly. “The world is full of wonders. To bear such resemblance to the magistrate is both an honor and a concern for this humble man, who fears offending Your Honor. Having seen little of the world, I beg your forgiveness for any impropriety.”
Unable to bear it any longer, Lady Mu strode forward and pulled Jicheng to his feet, tears streaming down her face. “My foolish son, he’s your own elder brother! Why must you act so distant? I know I’ve wronged you, but you must understand how hard I’ve searched for you all these years. Out of gratitude for Cuiping raising you so well, I won’t hold it against her. You’ve suffered long enough—come home with me. You’ll never want for anything again. The Mu family’s wealth could sustain you for lifetimes.”
Jicheng inhaled the delicate fragrance of the woman beside him. Her hands were warm, but unlike his mother’s simple, gentle touch. After a pause, he said, “I don’t understand what you mean, my lady. I was born and raised in Dongpo Village, and my mother has never mentioned anything unusual. A poor country man like me might be tempted by the thought of riches, but I dare not betray my conscience. If not for myself, then for the sake of my wife and child waiting at home. You must have mistaken me for someone else. I beg the magistrate to settle my matter so I may return to care for my family.”
Mu Hong had never met someone as stubborn as Jicheng, who refused to acknowledge the truth no matter who stood before him. Equal parts exasperated and amused, he was about to speak when his mother, choking back tears, said, “I wouldn’t claim you without reason. If you say looks aren’t proof enough, I won’t press you. But as a mother who has longed for her lost child, I beg you to indulge me. When you were little, I marked your shoulder with a plum blossom petal so I’d always recognize you. Others might mistake it for a birthmark, but I’d know. Let me see. If it’s not there, I’ll apologize and never trouble you again.”
Jicheng had no idea if he bore any such mark. He’d always been too busy to notice, and Chunfu, when washing him, had been too shy to look closely. He couldn’t twist his neck to see his own back, and as a rough man, he’d never paid much attention to his body. The lady’s request embarrassed him, yet he also felt uneasy. He didn’t want these people disrupting his peaceful life, but her determination left him no choice.
The delicate incense from the burner on the table curled through the air. Jicheng’s face remained impassive, but inside, his mind was in turmoil. Mu Hong, shedding all official pretense, suddenly reached out to pull at Jicheng’s clothes like an impatient friend, startling him.
Jicheng tried to dodge, but the bailiffs outside seemed to read his mind and rushed in to restrain him, stripping off his patched coat. A man of pride despite his humble status, Jicheng flushed with anger, his eyes burning. “I never thought a magistrate would stoop to such disrespect!” he spat.
His outburst was drowned out by Lady Mu’s sobs—a mix of joy and sorrow. She rushed forward, pounding his chest. “You are my son, yet you stubbornly deny me! Do you resent me for abandoning you? These eyes have nearly cried themselves blind, waiting for you day and night, year after year. Can’t you understand a mother’s heart? Come home with me. Your father never got to see you before you were taken away, and now he’s gone forever without ever knowing what his second son looked like. As his child, shouldn’t you at least visit his grave and offer incense, so he may rest in peace?”
Lady Mu traced the plum blossom petal she had once etched onto her son’s skin, now stretched with growth. Though frustrated by his obstinacy, her heart ached for the hardships he’d endured. Tenderly, she helped him back into his clothes, smiling through tears. “What joy is there in a peasant’s life? The Mu family has plenty of estates. If you ever grow restless, you can visit one for a change of pace. You were born a young master—look how this place has coarsened you. There’s no need to pack. After lunch, we’ll leave for home.”
Lady Mu was too overjoyed to think clearly, but Jicheng remained unmoved. He resented the coercion and refused to let others dictate his life. After so many years apart, there was no bond between them. No one was to blame—it was simply fate’s cruel trick. No matter how strong the ties of blood, time had eroded any connection. Strangeness was the greatest barrier between them.
Jicheng knew in his heart that this was the truth, but what did it matter? His silence spoke volumes—he would not yield.
Mu Hong suddenly understood. It wasn’t that Jicheng refused to acknowledge them—he simply couldn’t bear to leave everything behind. Softening, he placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Mother, you must give him time to accept this. No one could come to terms with it so quickly. His wife and child are here. Once he’s ready, we can visit them together.”
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