Chapter 73: Younger Brother

With these two formidable figures present, how could Liu Chuyan possibly return home unscathed? She immediately turned around, knelt, and thanked Prince Xin for his “kindness.” However, Prince Xin had already made up his mind to follow her to the Han residence, grinning mischievously as he took the lead.

Liu Chuyan had entered through the main gate, so naturally she should exit the same way. Yet now, with Prince Xin guiding the way ahead with ulterior motives, she hesitated for a moment before linking arms with Han Shuwei and heading toward the side gate.

Xue Ao did not follow Prince Xin. Noticing Liu Chuyan’s displeased expression, he quietly slipped away, suppressing a laugh, and quickly caught up with Liu Chuyan and her companions.

Liu Chuyan sensed his presence behind her and cleared her throat gently. “Second Master Xue, Duke Xin fell into the water. Judging by his state, things look grim. Shouldn’t you go see him first?”

“Oh, the imperial physician is with my brother. I’d only be a nuisance there. Better wait until he’s improved; there’s no rush,” Xue Ao replied carelessly, his eyes twinkling with undisguised amusement.

Liu Chuyan flicked her sleeve angrily, unable to do anything about him. She tried to quicken her pace to shake him off, but Han Shuwei could not walk faster, so she had to suppress her irritation and go step by step.

Once through the side gate, Liu Chuyan instructed her maid to help Han Shuwei back to her room and call for the female physician to tend to her foot. As for herself, she made for the dining hall. General Liu and Madam Zhou should both be there; she needed to discreetly invite General Liu to the Duke Xin’s mansion without alerting the Zhou family. Yet she knew such matters could not stay hidden for long, and unease gnawed at her heart.

Xue Ao continued to follow her. Once Han Shuwei was seen off, Liu Chuyan’s distracted air made it clear she’d all but forgotten his presence. Qinghe was helping Qingya support Han Shuwei, Songling had already been dispatched by Liu Chuyan to deliver a message home, and now only the two of them remained.

Xue Ao curled his lips into a smile. As they passed a bamboo grove, he suddenly reached out his long arm, wrapped it around her waist, and drew her in.

“Xue Ao!” Liu Chuyan never expected such audacity—he dared to insult her in broad daylight! She had barely cried out before he clamped a hand over her mouth, leaving her to struggle and beat him with hands and feet.

“Chuchu, Chuchu,” Xue Ao hurried to calm her, but she wouldn’t listen. Left with no choice, he spoke directly, “Chuchu, don’t you have a younger brother? You said he was already dead?”

She whimpered through his hand, ceasing her struggle—what was he trying to say?

“Chuchu, I saw a young boy with a birthmark on his arm, almost identical to the one on your chest. It was nearly the same.”

Identical to her birthmark? Liu Chuyan froze. But she had seen her brother perish in the fire with her own eyes—she couldn’t be mistaken. Was Xue Ao trying to deceive her?

Seeing her calm down, Xue Ao released her, though his hands still gripped her waist and shoulders tightly. “Chuchu, your birthmark is so unique, and he resembles you somewhat. In some angles, he looks even more like your father. That’s why I suspected he might be your brother. Yet you say your brother is dead…”

“My brother did have a birthmark on his arm, larger than mine, but he truly is dead,” Liu Chuyan bit her lower lip.

“You saw it happen with your own eyes?”

“Yes, I saw him die in the fire. I tried to save him but was too late. My mother once blamed me for it, though she knew it wasn’t my fault. Still, she could never get over it and eventually died of grief,” Liu Chuyan recalled, hands trembling, momentarily forgetting the impropriety of her position with Xue Ao.

“Chuchu, don’t be sad. I just wonder, how could there be so many coincidences in this world…”

“Besides the birthmark, was there anything else?”

“He said you looked very much like his mother.”

“He’s seen me?”

“Yes. He also said he remembered living by a lake. From his description, it should be near the West Lake.”

“Really? Is it such a coincidence?” Liu Chuyan was puzzled.

“Yes, and he happens to be eleven this year—four years younger than you. He would have been three when he supposedly died in the fire and you were seven. Doesn’t the timeline fit?”

“Who is he?” Liu Chuyan was shocked, shaken, a faint hope rising in her heart. Could it be that Mo’er hadn’t died after all? Impossible—she’d seen him swallowed by the flames with her own eyes. Her lips trembled as she denied it, “Impossible, Xue Ao. Don’t lie to me. I even found my brother’s remains myself, dug them out of the ruins with my own hands. How could it be…”

“Chuchu, what you saw may not have been the truth. Think back—was there anything strange at the time?”

“Strange? All I remember is that he was asleep and couldn’t be woken. I called to him from outside, but he wouldn’t wake… I tried to go in, but the door was locked. It took ages to get someone to break the window, and by then the beams had collapsed. I called to him through the window, but he never woke. I know my brother’s death was suspicious, but my father could never uncover the truth, so the matter was dropped. But we found his bones—how could that be false?”

“Your brother was already three; in a fire, he wouldn’t just sit and wait for death. From what you’ve described, he was either knocked out or drugged. But I think the likeliest scenario is that it wasn’t your brother at all, but someone else—likely already dead. And the fire would have burned his face beyond recognition, so you couldn’t have known for sure.”

“Is that so?” Liu Chuyan frowned deeply.

“He was asleep in the fire—did you see his face clearly?”

She pondered for a long while, then slowly shook her head. She was almost convinced by Xue Ao’s reasoning. Deep down, she wanted to believe him.

“Chuchu, do you want to come see for yourself? If it’s really him, wouldn’t that be wonderful?” In truth, Xue Ao was fairly certain already; he just needed Liu Chuyan to confirm it.

“But…”

“Chuchu, all you have to do is ask him a few questions. You have nothing to lose.”

“But Sister Jinhuan…” Liu Chuyan had returned because of Lin Jinhuan, and her heart was still preoccupied with worry. Yet Xue Ao’s words were tempting, leaving her torn with indecision.

“I’ve heard about Cousin Jinhuan’s situation, but you know there’s little you can do to help. Besides, my mother won’t mistreat her; she just wants to find my brother a suitable wife.”

“A suitable wife? What if Jinhuan doesn’t want to?” The words slipped out, and Liu Chuyan quickly corrected herself, “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you mean. Everyone knows my brother’s marriage prospects have been uncertain for so long. But marriage is decided by fate—if there’s no destiny, even my mother’s efforts would be futile. If there is, nothing and no one can break the bond; perhaps they really are meant for each other. And my brother still has to approve. Jinhuan and my brother have compatible temperaments, and now that she is fifteen, there’s no better match for her than my brother,” Xue Ao said, silently adding in his heart: except for myself.

Liu Chuyan understood his reasoning; she truly could not intervene in Lin Jinhuan’s affairs. Songling was competent and must have already informed General Liu. Only the banquet had not yet ended, and precautions were needed to keep the Zhou family from finding out, which was why she had not left for the Duke Xin’s mansion.

“Who is this person you’re speaking of?” Liu Chuyan could not leave the residence without permission; if discovered, it would be disastrous. She decided it was best to learn the truth and report to Madam Han before deciding.

“You’ve seen him—the boy named Liu Kitten, picked up by Guan Ju. Early this morning, I saw him peeking around outside the Han residence, so I grabbed him for questioning. He couldn't withstand my interrogation and told me everything. At Liu’s house, he would often make veiled inquiries about you; I caught him at it several times. From what I see, he could not have lied to me.”

“Liu Kitten?” Liu Chuyan had met him, but never looked closely or taken much notice. Now, recalling Xue Ao’s words, she remembered he had once asked if she lived by the water. Both Madam Han and Second Madam had remarked on his resemblance to Liu Chuyan, and even Xue Ao had said so.

She and her brother, as children, had been nearly identical, both resembling their mother greatly. As they grew, Liu Chuyan came to look more like her mother, while her brother’s features grew to resemble their father’s, with only a slight resemblance to their mother.

Liu Kitten? Could he truly be her brother?

Was the fire all those years ago merely a smokescreen, and had her brother been switched out beforehand?

If he really was, how had Liu Kitten escaped the clutches of those with malicious intent?

None of it could be known for certain.

Liu Chuyan’s heart filled with panic and confusion. She wanted to question Liu Kitten at once, and grabbed Xue Ao’s collar, her voice trembling, “Xue Ao, don’t lie to me.”

“Chuchu, have I ever lied to you? I only hope that if you find your brother, you’ll treat me a little better.”

Liu Chuyan made no reply, but pushed him away. “I must speak with Great-Aunt Han.”

“All right. If you wish to go, I’ll accompany you.” Xue Ao no longer tried to restrain her, watching her leave as he considered returning to the Xue residence first. But where had Prince Xin gone? Had he really entered the Han residence through the main gate?

“Master!” As Xue Ao pondered, Prince Xin suddenly jumped out before him, giving him quite a start.

“Youqian, let’s return to the palace for today. We can visit Lord Han another time.”

“Why? The Zhou family’s proposal is already settled. Isn’t today an auspicious day?” Prince Xin blinked in confusion.

Xue Ao stared at that innocent face, momentarily dazed. Was this his true self? Surely not. He was no simple child—in fact, he was only five years younger than Xue Ao himself. He had endured far darker experiences, and his mind was no less keen. In such an environment, he was accustomed to wearing masks. Yet, he was not completely honest with Xue Ao, and even doubted his loyalty—a bad sign.

“Master…” Prince Xin, seeing his stern expression, shrank his neck. “Master, don’t be upset. I’ll do as you say.”

Prince Xin had his reasons for wanting to visit today. Xue Ao could not stop him. Seeing his disciple’s sincerity, he smiled. “Days are neither good nor bad. I’m not upset. Your mother entrusted you to me, and I must teach you well. I’ve grown used to treating you as a child, but you’re already fifteen—old enough to marry next year. I’ve been too restrictive. You should decide some things for yourself. It was my mistake. Youqian, everything I do is for your sake, don’t blame me.”

“Master, I know,” Prince Xin replied, grinning and revealing two charming tiger teeth.

Looking at him this way, he seemed a child again. Xue Ao’s mind was torn—who was the real him? Perhaps time would reveal the answer.

Although Prince Hui was not a great threat, with the eunuchs in control, without powerful allies, Zhu Youqian would never claim the throne. Everything had to be carefully planned, step by step. If anything changed, Xue Ao would not let himself suffer for it.