My Mother is the White Moonlight of a Tyrant - Chapter 44: Quan Jie

Chapter 44: Quan Jie

A large, dark hand reached over, enveloping the slender fingers resting on the animal-head belt. He neither tugged at her waistband to unravel it nor pulled her hand away.

It remained in place.

His long fingers slipped between hers, spreading them open before gently squeezing her bamboo-shoot-like fingertips. I wish to take Madam south, yet Madam desires to remain in Ying County.

Dai Li didn’t comprehend at first.

Who said she wanted to stay in Ying County?

She had no intention of remaining here. She wished to go south, preferably to personally visit that Old Sun in Qiantang.

They sat on the cushioned chair by the window, the intense sunlight making his brown eyes appear even lighter. Qin Shaozong made no attempt to conceal the desire in his gaze—all the scorching, profound greed was now completely exposed.

A vicious tiger emerging from the jungle had everything prepared: claws sharpened, fangs meticulously cleaned, waiting only to feast. But the fox freshly dug from its burrow had fallen ill, no longer as plump and lively as before. So the tiger pondered, choosing to lie down and encircle it with its paws, occasionally licking to satisfy its craving.

Under his gaze, Dai Li’s brow twitched twice.

Not only did this man want to indulge recklessly, he also believed that if they were to spend a wild night together now, her body wouldn’t withstand it. She might fall ill again, forcing her to remain in Ying County.

Could the Lord perhaps… show restraint? Dai Li attempted to negotiate.

Qin Shaozong chuckled softly. Just as Dai Li thought there might be hope, he uttered two decisive words: Not possible.

Dai Li gritted her teeth inwardly. This man could be excessively wicked at times.

The sun rose and set, tides ebbed and flowed, and in what seemed like a blink, Dai Li had endured two more days of medicinal brews.

Early this morning, Ding Lianxi came to check her pulse. His expression showed relief. Madam Dai’s illness has receded by ninety percent. However, this high fever came fiercely and lasted quite long, somewhat damaging your foundation. Please avoid overexertion in the coming days so you can fully recover what was depleted.

While Ding Lianxi conducted his examination, Qin Shaozong listened nearby. The man rotated his jade thumb ring, his expression inscrutable. Congjian, prepare some Strengthening the Foundation and Nourishing the Origin prescriptions for Madam.

Having already consumed medicinal brews for many consecutive days—leaving her tongue numb and head dizzy—Dai Li immediately furrowed her delicate brows at the mention of more. That won’t be necessary. I’ll just rest—

Prepare them. His tone brooked no argument.

Qin Shaozong looked at her, his brown pupils calm and unreadable, conveying only one meaning: Does Madam still want that inspectorate team or not?

Dai Li fell silent.

Qin Shaozong then turned to Ding Lianxi. Congjian, we depart Ying County at noon. Have the servants purchase additional medicinal supplies in the county.

After waiting for several days, the order to march finally arrived. The Military Generals collectively sighed in relief, sharing a single thought:

Madam Dai’s illness has finally healed.

Military orders are urgent. In less than half an hour, everything that needed packing was packed, what needed leaving behind was settled, and everyone in the residence had efficiently organized themselves.

Not all would accompany Qin Shaozong south; Yan San was left behind in Ying County.

The Yan family was a collateral branch personally raised by Qin Shaozong. After Yan Da and Yan Er successively died in the war against the Northern Kingdom, Yan San—originally the most outstanding among the Yan descendants—received even greater responsibilities.

Ying County was no ordinary county now. With the advent of refined salt, it represented the Northern Territory’s purse. Yan San’s mission was to guard this purse securely, underscoring the critical importance of his task.

Dai Li shared a carriage with Nian Xia and Bi Po.

Listening to the rumble of wheels rolling over the official road and the fading clamor, Dai Li slowly lowered her gaze.

For the first time, she felt no unease about leaving the city behind.

She was heading south, drawing closer to Qiantang, and perhaps closer to Zhou Zhou as well…

Yanzhou, Gaoling Commandery.

The Fan Clan of Yanzhou was a prominent local family. Tracing its origins, one could go back two hundred years to the internal strife involving imperial relatives during this dynasty. The Fan family contributed to quelling the rebellion and was thus rewarded.

Of course, it wasn’t a particularly great feat. Otherwise, they would have settled in Chang’an at the time instead of moving to Yanzhou.

Nevertheless, the founding ancestor of the Fan family was a clever man. Not only did he start from scratch, but he also nurtured the next two generations of heirs exceptionally well. Leveraging the prestige from their achievements, the Fan family forged connections with the powerful and influential, gradually expanding their influence in Yanzhou until they became a distinguished local clan.

However, not every generation produced wise leaders. The Fan family later suffered from a lack of capable successors, declining to the point of being pushed out of Yanzhou’s elite circles. The turning point came with Fan Tianshi’s father, a resourceful and talented man who pulled the family back from the brink of collapse. Sadly, fate was unkind to the gifted—just as he had steadied the family’s decline and prepared to roll up his sleeves for greater endeavors, he succumbed to a sudden illness and passed away.

Fan Tianshi, while not as outstanding as his father, was undoubtedly far more capable than the average person—better than most, though not the best.

Thanks to the family’s earlier foundations, the Fan residence was vast. The main reception hall, the principal living quarters, the rear garden, and the guest courtyards were each at least three times larger than those of a typical wealthy household. The estate even housed a menagerie where wolves were kept.

The compound contained numerous courtyards: some housed retainers, others advisors, and still others sheltered adopted orphans and foster sons.

Whether it was an oversight in arrangements or a deliberate test of survival, all the orphans shared a single courtyard. Next to this courtyard, Fan Tianshi’s two foster sons were no exception—they too resided there.

Well, look who’s back—the busy man! You’re hardly ever around. Off seducing someone else again? Not satisfied with charming the Eighth Young Mistress, you still have eyes for others? Truly, greed knows no bounds. A friendly word of advice: you’d better watch your step. Don’t capsize in a ditch—being kicked out of the Fan estate would be the least of your worries.”

Ping Wei finished his taunts, but the approaching figure didn’t break stride, as if he hadn’t heard. Instantly, rage flared within Ping Wei. Quan Jie! I’m talking to you!”

The figure halted and turned around.

A black demon-patterned mask gleamed coldly in the sunlight, its ferocious designs seeming to writhe to life, repulsive to behold.

He stood around eight feet tall, dressed in a plain black-gray curved-robe gown, with only a simple belt at his waist and no accessories. Still in his growing years, his frame lacked the solidity of a mature man, appearing somewhat slender and gaunt.

My interactions with the Eighth Young Mistress are merely passing nods. If you continue spouting nonsense, I won’t cover for you when our foster father holds you accountable.Quan Jie’s voice was unpleasant, carrying an ineradicable hoarseness, as if his throat were damaged.

Ping Wei’s face contorted at these words, his handsome features instantly losing half their appeal. Passing nods? How can you say that with a straight face? If it’s just passing nods, why does the Eighth Young Mistress visit here so often? Why does she always ask if you’re around? And why does she bring you gifts?”

Quan Jie remained where he was, his mask obscuring any expression.

Ping Wei burned with jealousy.

That is the Eighth Young Mistress, the legitimate daughter most doted upon by his adoptive father Fan Yanzhou. If he could gain her favor, he might just transition from being an adopted son to a son-in-law.

For some inexplicable reason, the Eighth Young Mistress, who had previously looked down on Quan Jie and avoided him like the plague, had recently undergone a drastic change in attitude. The difference was as stark as night and day, as if she had been put under a spell.

The jealousy in Ping Wei’s heart had simmered into a thick, venomous brew, making every part of his body ache with discomfort. Unable to restrain himself, he began dredging up the past. Seven years ago, you dragged your broken leg and knelt before the manor, kowtowing and begging to be taken in. Father, seeing you grovel like a dog, took pity and allowed you into the household, giving you a few scraps of food. Later, adopting you as his son was merely an act of charity. Do you really think you’re someone now? You’re nothing but a house dog—how dare a beast like you aspire to climb so high?!

We’re both adopted sons. If I’m a house dog, so are you, Quan Jie replied calmly.

Ping Wei was seething with rage. Once he stepped outside this courtyard, he would have to don his refined and courteous mask—deferential to his superiors and polite to his inferiors.

No one knew the resentment and frustration festering inside him. Only when facing Quan Jie, another adopted son, could he fully vent his poisonous thoughts. Save it. I’m nothing like you. I recently got in touch with a distant cousin of mine who’s now a county magistrate. He lost his son unexpectedly last year and now wants to adopt me. I’ll have a family soon, while you’ll remain a lonely ghost. If you die out there one day, not a single tear will be shed for you!

Then go tell Father you no longer wish to be his adopted son, Quan Jie remained unperturbed, like a stagnant pond devoid of life.

No matter how the wind blew or stones were cast into it, not a single ripple would stir on its surface.

With that, Quan Jie turned away, stepping past him toward the adjacent side room.

Ping Wei choked on his words, realizing he had been outmaneuvered. His fury surged even hotter. We’re both orphans—what gives you the right to act so high and mighty? I was kidnapped and sold by traffickers, forced to wander destitute. What about you? Your birth parents abandoned you, didn’t they? No, maybe you brought misfortune upon them—each meeting a tragic—

The word end stuck in his throat, unable to escape.

It wasn’t that Ping Wei didn’t want to say it, but he couldn’t. A pale hand had clamped around his neck. As that scar-covered hand tightened, Ping Wei’s face rapidly turned crimson, his eyes bulging.

Instinctively, both his hands gripped the other’s arm, desperately trying to free his pitiful neck, only to realize with shock the immense strength behind that grip.

Quan Jie turned his head back. The Ghost Mask on his face remained as chilling as ever, but what terrified Ping Wei more now were the eyes behind it.

Cold, eerily sinister enough to make one’s hair stand on end, like monstrous waves rising from a dead sea, ready to devour everything.

He wanted to kill him.

Ping Wei’s heart shuddered violently. He tried to scream that he was also Father’s son, that if he died, Quan Jie would surely face severe consequences.

The hand on his neck suddenly released. Ping Wei immediately doubled over, gasping for air.

A few words drifted down from above, Don’t be so noisy next time.

Flat and unemotional, he had reverted to a stagnant pond, as if that dead sea had never stirred with any turbulence.

Ignoring Ping Wei, who was still coughing violently, Quan Jie turned and returned to his room.

The room was exceedingly simple, devoid of any decorations. The table and chair were the most ordinary kind. The room contained only one table, one chair, one bed, and a few wooden cabinets.

Out of place with this room was an exquisitely packaged brocade box placed on the table. Wrapped in silk satin, it faintly emitted a lingering fragrance, making it clear at a glance that the object inside was of considerable value.

Quan Jie did not touch the box. He walked directly to the window on the west side of the room and pushed open the tightly shut window. The wind blew in, carrying away the scent left by the brocade box.

Just as Quan Jie was about to turn around, his gaze caught a red kite tangled in a distant tree, and he froze abruptly.

The large tree was not within the courtyard where he lived, nor was it even inside the Fan Estate. However, it grew exceptionally tall, making it visible even from within the estate. A bright red kite hung from the high branches, looking as if a child had accidentally entangled it there while flying the kite.

Quan Jie stared at the red kite for a moment before leaving the room once again.

Ping Wei was still in the courtyard. Seeing Quan Jie emerge from the room, he instinctively wanted to mock him, but as soon as he opened his mouth, a burning pain in his throat silenced him.

Watching the retreating figure, Ping Wei gritted his teeth in frustration. That scoundrel Quan Jie must be off to seduce the Eighth Young Mistress again. No, he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

…

Quan Jie did not leave the Fan Estate but instead headed to the servants’ quarters in the west. This was a dormitory-style area housing many household slaves, including the gatekeepers.

Compared to other servants, the gatekeepers had relatively more opportunities to leave the estate, so maids and attendants often entrusted them with purchasing goods.

Along the way, he encountered others. An old gatekeeper chuckled and said, Quan Jie, here to collect goods from Old Zhang again?

Quan Jie nodded silently and passed him, entering the room where Old Zhang lived.

Faint murmurs drifted from behind him.

I’ve been in the estate for over three years, and Quan Jie is still as strange as ever. It seems he’s only familiar with Old Zhang and has no connections with anyone else.

I’ve been here for over five years, and he’s always been like this. Some people at least answer when spoken to, but he doesn’t even respond to others. He’s like a mute, with a wooden personality—a real oddball.

Shh, not so loud. He hasn’t gone far yet. In the past, it didn’t matter—everyone knew the Benefactor treated his adopted sons like dogs, and more than a dozen have died that way. But times have changed. I heard the Eighth Young Mistress has taken a sudden liking to him for some reason. Who knows? He might rise from rags to riches.

It’s not that easy. The Eighth Young Mistress is the Benefactor’s most beloved legitimate daughter. Do you think Quan Jie is the son of a provincial governor? He’s just a lowly slave—fatherless, motherless, and powerless. Even if the Eighth Young Mistress doesn’t mind his filth and ugliness, the Benefactor would never allow it.

Quan Jie stepped into the small room, leaving the voices behind. Only two people were inside: Old Zhang, the gatekeeper he had come to see, and a guard who had worked the night shift and was now resting.

You’re here, Old Zhang said, looking up at the sound of footsteps. He wore an expression of honest sluggishness. He took out a small paper package from a cabinet and said, Here, this is what you asked me to buy earlier. Lately, the shop has been short on supplies, and business hasn’t been good. Prices are about to go up…

He lifted his eyes, and his somewhat vacant gaze suddenly shifted, becoming sharp and shrewd, like a snake awakening from hibernation. But the shopkeeper said you’re a regular customer and always settle transactions promptly. So, if you pay for the next two batches upfront, he won’t raise your prices and might even give you a discount.

Old Zhang lived in a dormitory-style room, and the sleeping retainer was not far away. With no doors separating them, one could see each other’s every move just by turning their head.

The retainer turned over, mumbled something, scratched his arm, and continued sleeping.

The awakened serpent had returned to hibernation, and the sharpness in Old Zhang’s eyes faded, reverting to the dull gatekeeper he usually appeared to be. Quan Jie tucked the paper package into his robe and then returned to his own room without a word.

After closing the door securely, he retrieved the paper package from his robe, set aside a portion of fish glue from it, and then took out a folded sheet of mulberry bark paper.

The paper was covered with writing, packed densely—it turned out to be several utterly ordinary nursery rhymes. Quan Jie studied them for a moment, extracted the hidden information, then fetched a flint to light the candle stand and neatly burned the mulberry bark paper.

Just as the flames died out, someone knocked on the door.

Quan Jie, the Benefactor is summoning you. Go to the study at once. It was a servant delivering the message.

Quan Jie acknowledged, tidied everything up, and left his quarters.

The study of the Provincial Governor’s residence was located in a heavily guarded area of the estate. Upon entering this section, patrolling guards were a common sight, while an intangible aura of opulence washed over him.

Soaring eaves and upturned corners, carved beams and painted rafters—every detail exuded solemnity and elegance. The summer breeze rustled through, swaying the exotic plants cultivated there, carrying with it a few wisps of floral fragrance.

The study door was tightly shut. Quan Jie knocked.

Enter. A deep voice responded.

He pushed the door open and entered, and just as he closed the door behind him and turned around, two heavy words struck him.

Kneel.

Quan Jie lowered his eyes and silently dropped to both knees.

A dark shadow suddenly shot toward him, so fast it even whipped up a whooshing sound, followed by—

Thwack!

The long whip lashed fiercely across his arm and shoulder blade. Quan Jie’s figure swayed slightly, but he didn’t utter a sound.

Fan Tianshi was past forty, with a broad forehead, pale complexion, and a light beard. He usually wore a smile, easily giving the impression of approachability and amiability. But at this moment, his smile had vanished, and his face inexplicably appeared sinister and cold to the extreme. Do you know your mistake?

Quan Jie kept his head lowered. I beg my foster father to enlighten me.

Enlighten you, indeed. Since you can’t recall, I don’t mind giving you another reminder. Fan Tianshi sneered.

The whip swung again, striking him twice more with sharp cracks. Quan Jie remained kneeling in place; aside from the initial slight sway, he later stood as immovable as a stone statue, enduring the lashings.

Fan Tianshi was not a Military General. After delivering three lashes, he was already somewhat tired.

Placing the long whip on the desk, he suddenly softened his tone. Quan Jie, don’t blame your father for being harsh on you. Seven years ago, the moment I saw you in front of the estate, I knew that young boy—who didn’t even cry out in agony like an ordinary person despite his broken leg—was inherently resilient. You can endure more hardship than others, bear what they cannot, and perhaps have great potential in the future. That’s why I allowed you into the estate and even sought medical treatment for you.

Quan Jie dares not forget my foster father’s great kindness. Quan Jie still kept his head lowered, submissive and obedient.

Fan Tianshi smiled. You are as meticulous as a hair, much steadier than Ping Wei. You are the foster son I hold in the highest regard. Over the years, I have seen all that you’ve contributed to the Fan family, and my heart is as clear as a mirror, well aware of it. Your father places high hopes in you…

His smile suddenly vanished, revealing a trace of malice. But you have your own path. Someone with blood-stained hands should not taint pure innocence. There are some people you shouldn’t even think of touching, let alone covet. Don’t let greed destroy you.

Quan Jie wouldn’t dare. Quan Jie only wishes to serve my foster father wholeheartedly, to repay the life-saving grace, and has no other thoughts. The man kneeling on the ground replied.

Fan Tianshi completely softened his tone and brought up another matter. A merchant caravan from the Northern Territory is selling Salty Stone. This item is rather peculiar—I suspect it’s related to Qin Shaozong. Go and interrogate that caravan. Also, I’ve received word that a shipment of tribute from Ganxuzhou is being transported to Chang’an via the Heng Hui and Fei Shui route. It will arrive in Xinzhou within days. Take some men and handle it—follow the same method as before, but be thorough. Leave no traces behind.

Quan Jie: As you command.

Fan Tianshi rose from his seat, walked around the long table, and helped Quan Jie to his feet, personally straightening his collar. Go now. I await good news from you, my son.

As days turned into nights amid the intense march, the Northern Territory Army, led by Qin Shaozong, finally arrived at Guoyun County.

Guoyun County—this was the borderland between Yanzhou and Qingzhou. To be more precise, Guoyun County belonged to Qingzhou.

After setting up camp outside Guoyun County, Qin Shaozong once again received a warm invitation from Nangong Xiong.

My lady, accompany me into the city.

Author’s Note: Well, Dai Li has reached the border of Yanzhou now [shy]

Eagerly requesting nutrient solutions [pink heart]