TRBDM -Chapter 125 A Mother and Son Meet

Following her instructions, Xie Yu climbed into the carriage.

Inside, the nanny stepped back and closed the curtains for them.

The enclosed space was filled with a fragrance belonging only to the nobility, enveloping Xie Yu—it smelled so distinctly of him.

He didn’t dare lift his head. Knees together, hands placed neatly on his lap.

Zhao Lingchen’s eyes couldn’t bear to leave him. She restrained the impulse to embrace him, doing her best to act composed.

“You’re called Xie Yu?”

“Yes.”

“Lift your head. Let me see you.”

Obediently, Xie Yu raised his head.

Two identical pairs of peach-blossom eyes finally met up close.

Zhao Lingchen’s breathing quickened. Her gaze lingered on his face: eyes, nose, mouth, chin.

Then moved to his shoulders, arms, and hands.

Xie Yu had once been a servant boy, doing all kinds of rough work. Winters left his hands chapped, summers peeled his skin. Over the years, his fingers, though slender, had slightly thickened joints, with burn marks and faint knife scars.

Her heart ached all over; Zhao Lingchen’s eyes grew warm.

Suddenly, she grabbed Xie Yu’s hand, startling him.

He tried to pull it back, but she held it firmly.

“Well…” Xie Yu hesitated.

“Don’t be afraid. It looks like you have scars on your hands. I just want to take a look,” Zhao Lingchen explained softly, careful not to frighten him.

Relaxing, Xie Yu offered his hand: “My hands are ugly. If you don’t mind, you can look.”

With a pang of tenderness, Zhao Lingchen held his hand, gently tracing each scar with her fingers.

“Why are there so many injuries?”

Zhao Jingheng said Xie Yu was healthy and fine—but then what were all these marks for?

Xie Yu didn’t shy away from his background. He spoke matter-of-factly: “I used to be a servant at the Mingde Marquisate, doing rough work. These small wounds are nothing.”

“A servant?”

“Yes.”

Zhao Lingchen’s heart ached even more.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

He spoke the truth. These small wounds were nothing to him. If anything, the real pain was when Second Master Xie Sheng had whipped him—he’d nearly thought he would die.

Thankfully, his third brother and mother had used the best medicine to save him, or he couldn’t have recovered so quickly.

“Madam?” Xie Lan didn’t know how to address Zhao Lingchen. By her age, she should already be married.

“What do you call me?”

“Miss?” Xie Yu quickly corrected himself, thinking she was angry.

Zhao Lingchen most wanted him to call her “Mother,” but a hasty recognition could be dangerous for Xie Yu.

The person who had followed her yesterday had already confessed. Unexpectedly, it wasn’t Third Prince Zhao Jingyan, but Fifth Prince Zhao Jingrui.

Zhao Jingrui’s mother came from the Northern Border; with his foreign bloodline, he was never meant to inherit the throne.

So Zhao Jingyan had already brought him into his ranks.

Even Zhao Jingyan hadn’t dared to follow Zhao Lingchen, yet Zhao Jingrui was recklessly bold. Clearly, the Northern Borderers hadn’t given up.

In her mind, Zhao Lingchen saw a tall, imposing figure clad in armor.

He had once led an army into the Northern Border. The Northern Border King had hung his portrait all over the city, determined to take his head.

Many there recognized his face. Later, he was wrongfully executed in battle, branded a traitor, and nailed to the pillar of shame.

To this day, Zhao Lingchen still hadn’t found evidence to prove his innocence.

Therefore, she couldn’t let Xie Yu recognize her.

She couldn’t allow him to bear the stigma of being an illegitimate child while also carrying the alleged betrayal of his real father.

“Miss? Were you hurt just now?”

Xie Yu felt he had wasted too much time; his mother and eldest sister would be worried.

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“What about the carriage? Any damage?”

“Nope, nothing.”

Since everything was fine, Xie Yu could leave.

“Then I’ll take my leave. Mother is waiting for me at home.”

“Mother? You mean the matriarch of the Mingde Marquis House, Wei Zhaorong?”

“Yeah. You know my mother?” Xie Yu’s eyes lit up.

“Mm, I do.”

Some time ago, at the palace, Zhao Lingchen had met Wei Zhaorong.

“Does she treat you well?”

“Mm, very well,” Xie Yu answered without hesitation.

Zhao Lingchen fell silent.

“I really have to go now,” Xie Yu said cautiously.

Zhao Lingchen released his hand and watched Xie Yu leave, wide-eyed.

Xie Yu’s carriage rattled down the road, disappearing at the end before Zhao Lingchen reluctantly withdrew his gaze.

Zhao Lingchen had arranged the “accidental” encounter with Xie Yu; within a mile radius, the guards had cleared everyone out.

No one would find out about the carriage collision.

She had done it secretly, and Xie Yu was completely unaware.

Back at the mansion, Xie Yu said dejectedly, “Mother, I didn’t get to see the Tenth Prince.”

“Did you send the letter?”

“No. I also brought back the pastries my eldest sister made.”

Nothing accomplished, and on the way home he had even collided with another carriage—today was truly an unlucky day.

Wei Zhaorong found it strange. It shouldn’t be like this. Xie Yu had clearly been close to the Tenth Prince at the Imperial Academy, so why had he suddenly changed his mind now?

She couldn’t figure it out.

But seeing Xie Yu so down, Wei Zhaorong comforted him: “Yu’er, it’s nothing. The Tenth Prince probably has important matters and can’t meet you right now.”

“Mm,” Xie Yu agreed, comforting himself in the same way.

After being out for a while, Xie Yu was hungry. The pastries Xie Wanrou had made were still fragrant, so he simply opened the box and began devouring them.

Xie Wanrou’s skill in cooking had long since won over everyone in the mansion.

Even Wei Zhaorong, who didn’t like sweets, would take a piece or two.

“I wonder who will marry my eldest sister in the future. The rest of their life, they’re going to have quite a treat.”

Xie Yu’s cheeks were stuffed, but he didn’t forget to praise Xie Wanrou.

At this, Wei Zhaorong’s mind flashed with an image of Jiang Yuelin.

She had heard that at the Flower Festival, Jiang Yuelin had paid considerable attention to Xie Wanrou. After the festival, he even had her make pastries daily to deliver to the Dali Temple.

Jiang Yuelin’s behavior was so obvious; it was hard for her not to be suspicious.

But this time, she absolutely would not let Wanrou marry easily.

After barely escaping a wolf’s den, now stepping back into a tiger’s lair—what could be done?

Wanrou’s future husband would have to pass many tests, truly love her, and be willing to break societal prejudices for her, choosing her unwaveringly.

Only then could Wei Zhaorong let go.

Otherwise, she would raise Xie Wanrou for a lifetime, letting her remain a carefree child forever.

Footsteps came from outside—Dou Shuxin had arrived.

She looked slightly nervous, bowed to Wei Zhaorong, and then sat beside Xie Yu.

After some trivial conversation, Dou Shuxin found an opportune moment to ask, “Fourth brother, did you get to see the Tenth Prince at the Imperial Academy?”

Her hands unconsciously twisted the handkerchief.

Xie Yu shook his head: “No.”

“No? Is he ill?”

Dou Shuxin had been eating poorly and sleeping poorly these past few days, constantly worrying about Zhào Jǐnghèng. Hearing that he wasn’t seen, she instinctively feared that his poison had not been cured yet.