There were no walls in Prince Ning’s residence that the wind could not pass through. The news that Lu Huan had been summoned by the Old Madam to Mei’an Courtyard quickly reached the ears of the Princess Consort of Prince Ning.

She bit down hard, then slammed her teacup onto the table. The tea splashed in every direction, startling the servant who had come to report.

The servant hastily fell to his knees. “Please calm your anger, My Lady!”

The Princess Consort, seething, turned to the mama beside her. “What on earth is the Old Madam thinking? Could it be that just because of what happened by the stream last time, she’s truly taken a liking to that illegitimate son?!”

“Wenxiu was punished to reflect behind closed doors for a full month, and by the time she comes out, the autumn hunt on Qiuyan Mountain will be long over! So that’s what the Old Madam was planning all along — to have that bastard son take Wenxiu’s place!”

Seeing the Princess Consort in a fury, Mama Jia also hurriedly knelt and said, “As long as My Lady does not wish for that bastard to go, could he really go even if he wanted to?”

The Princess Consort gave a cold laugh. “The Qiuyan Mountain hunt — all the imperial princes and the sons of the great families of the capital will be there. How could a mere illegitimate son possibly stand on such a stage? And yet he’s somehow managed to charm the Old Madam into letting him take Wenxiu’s seat! What can you do about that?”

Mama Jia said, “There’s still half a month before the hunt. My Lady has more than enough ways to ensure he can’t appear that day. Why be anxious? As long as there’s a small accident — if he can’t even leave Prince Ning’s residence, if he can’t even get on a horse — how could he possibly attend the Qiuyan Mountain hunt?”

At those words, the Princess Consort’s expression eased slightly.

Indeed, just a bastard son.

Though that bastard was unusually resilient, with a tenacious will to live that had prevented her from killing him all these years, if she truly decided to act in earnest — making him disappear from Prince Ning’s residence would hardly be difficult.

Her expression sharpened as she questioned the servant further about what Lu Huan had been doing lately.

Ever since the Old Madam had granted him that small courtyard and forbade the servants from disturbing him, no one had dared approach that remote, decrepit firewood yard. After all, even Prince Ning feared the Old Madam; no one in the residence dared defy her orders.

The answer, naturally, was this —

That bastard son had spent three taels of silver, purchasing various tools, seeds, and a few chickens. He had begun planting vegetables and raising poultry in his courtyard.

When the Princess Consort heard this, she let out a mocking laugh.

She had thought he might use that bit of silver to bribe servants and attempt something ambitious, yet it turned out all he wanted was to eat and clothe himself, content to raise chickens and grow vegetables in his tiny corner of the world.

Forget it — the pitiful child had no grand ambitions after all. She had been too wary of him.

───♡───

The Princess Consort of Prince Ning thus eased her vigilance somewhat.

Meanwhile, from the second day onward, Lu Huan waited for that person’s reply to his note.

At dawn, when he opened his eyes, a wave of tension immediately welled up inside him. Before he could even put on his outer robe, he leapt out of bed in his thin inner garments, walked to the table, and with a heart full of complicated, indescribable emotions, picked up the paper and looked at it—

But on the front side, there was only his own ink bleeding faintly through the paper, standing there all alone. There were no other ink marks.

“……”

Unwilling to give up, Lu Huan flipped the paper over and checked the back.

Yet the back, too, was blank.

He lowered his gaze slightly, a faint trace of disappointment — so subtle even he himself didn’t notice — flickering across his dark eyes.

But soon he lifted his head again, placed the paper back on the table, and weighed it down with the inkstone. Then he set aside the lantern whose oil had already burned out, making it even more visible.

He thought, judging by the person’s usual pattern of appearing, that they probably hadn’t come last night — it was only natural they hadn’t seen the words he’d left.

He would wait another three days.

Outside, the rooster crowed.

Today, Lu Huan planned to go out and exchange some grain for a bow and arrows — to prepare for the Qiuyan Mountain hunt half a month later.

However, the bows and arrows sold by the small vendors in the marketplace were all low-quality, the sort hunters used—the bow arms lacked proper tension, and the arrowheads weren’t sharp enough.

If he truly wanted a good bow, it would be better to buy birch wood and feathers and carve one himself.

Birch wood and feathers were rare materials.

To buy them would cost at least five taels of silver.

Five taels was no small sum, even the steward of Prince Ning’s residence only earned three taels a month.

Lu Huan frowned slightly and decided not to think about it for now.

He put on his old robe and lowered his head to touch the patch of animal hide that person had sewn onto it.

His fingertips immediately felt its coarse, rough texture.

But when he thought of someone stitching it for him, one needle after another, each stitch close and careful, the usually expressionless—sometimes even indifferent—corners of his eyes softened unconsciously.

No matter how rough it was, as long as it was warm, it was enough.

He glanced again at the overly luxurious fox fur coat that person had sent him. Though it was splendid and elegant, he had no desire to touch it—let alone pawn it for money, despite his need.

He walked outside, as he did in the previous days, first stepping into the chicken coop to see whether there were any new eggs.

The moment the chickens saw him enter, they fluttered their wings in alarm.

Lu Huan examined the cold-weather shelter that person had set up for the coop. He recognized the materials—oil-paper and such—but the wooden framework was utterly strange.

He had never seen such a structure in any ancient books or in the homes of those who raised chickens.

Yet the strange thing was—under that odd, unfamiliar structure, the temperature inside was clearly much warmer than the freezing cold outside.

That meant this peculiar shelter was both novel and effective, something that even wealthy families had never used before.

But how could that person have made it—?

Puzzlement filled Lu Huan’s heart.

With curiosity, he approached the hen’s nest and reached in to feel around—then froze.

His expression couldn’t help but show a trace of shock.

Because the moment his hand touched inside, he realized—there weren’t just a few eggs. It felt like there were dozens!

The nest was a little too dark, so Lu Huan went back to fetch an oil lamp, hurried back, and illuminated the inside.

He took out the eggs one by one and the more he took out, the more astonished he became.

Because in just one night, the number of eggs laid by these twenty-some hens had completely exceeded his imagination!

When he was done, the straw on the ground was almost covered.

Lu Huan furrowed his brows and counted carefully. There were about sixty-eight eggs.

…piled into a small mound.

The hens looked at him innocently, then all gathered around the feed trough and pecked at the grains with wild energy, as if there were some sort of stimulant hidden inside.

He: “……”

From what Lu Huan had read in ancient texts, normally, a hen could only lay one egg per day.

What’s more, it was the dead of winter—a time when many places suffered crop failure and frost disasters, and hens laid far fewer eggs.

The poultry sellers in the marketplace were all frowning, worried they wouldn’t survive the winter.

So why was it that here—?

Why were his hens laying eggs like mad and not stopping at all?

Just as he stepped inside, did another hen slip in to lay yet more eggs?!

His expression turned strange as he once again examined the feed and the cold-proof shelter that person had set up, his feelings a tangled knot.

…If it had been before, he would have suspected there was something deceitful at play and wouldn’t have trusted that person so easily. But after these past few days, he had tentatively concluded that they meant him no harm.

If that was the case, then these eggs should be fine.

At that thought, Lu Huan’s face—white as snow—was brushed with a faint, warm glow from the oil lamp in his hand.

Lowering his gaze to the eggs, he quietly curved his lips, fetched a basket, and sat cross-legged on the ground like a child, gently placing the eggs inside one by one.

───♡───

Su Xi had already been in the hospital for about ten days and was almost ready to be discharged.

Early that morning, Mother Su came to accompany her for the final check-up, and once that was done, she would be able to leave the hospital the next day.

Now that Mother Su no longer had to worry about money, her whole being was bright and buoyant; even her walk had a bit of a skip to it.

She generously bought Su Xi two jianbing guozi [Chinese savory crepes] and even sent her two hundred yuan on WeChat as pocket money for the week.

Su Xi bit into the jianbing guozi, eyes brimming with tears of gratitude.

After the whole morning of delays, three full days had already passed in the game world.

Unable to resist, she pulled out her phone to log in while waiting in line for her examination.

When she entered the game again, the little Zai Zai, for once, wasn’t out somewhere—he was busy working in the courtyard, and he was even wearing the robe she had prepared for him, the one patched with animal hide.

If before, her little Zai Zai had been like a thin, white-robed sketch—simple and clean-lined—then now, with the fur trim, he looked like a short-limbed, short-armed little hunter, a small leopard darting busily across the screen!

Standing in line, Su Xi puffed out her cheeks to hold back a laugh, her heart melting from the cuteness!

Now she finally understood the mindset of those players who spent money on in-game outfits—

If it were her, she too wanted to see her Zai Zai in all sorts of clothes.

…Too bad her Zai Zai was such a tsundere; he wouldn’t easily wear the clothes she sent him.

But what was he busy with right now?

Su Xi saw him going back and forth to the chicken coop.

Zooming in carefully on the basket in his hands, she was startled—

What the hell, why were there so many eggs?!

It had only been three days, and the hens had already laid that many?!

Were the growth stimulants from the store that terrifying in effect?!

“It’s also thanks to the cold-proof shelter,” the system explained.

“All the products in the store work at one hundred percent efficiency, so the healing medicine for chills is stronger too. Are you sure you don’t want to top-up a bit more, young lady?”

Although Su Xi had money now, she definitely wasn’t the type to spend recklessly.

Ignoring the system, she watched the little Zai Zai on the screen with the fond, gentle look of an indulgent aunt, then switched the view to his room, planning to see if anything there needed tidying up.

And that was when she caught sight of the paper, ink, and brush on the table—and the words written there.

——“Who exactly are you?”

The strokes were heavy and firm, written quickly but not carelessly; it was clear that when her little Zai Zai had written it, his emotions had been turbulent and tangled.

Su Xi froze for a moment.

Was this some kind of interactive event between the protagonist and the player?

Of course she wanted to interact too!

But when she tried to drag the brush on the table and scribble on the paper, no ink appeared at all.

Restricted again—she still couldn’t communicate with him.

She had to reach one hundred points of affection first. Just how long would it take to complete enough tasks for that?!

Helpless, Su Xi tossed the brush aside.

She said to the system, “Both of the main storylines haven’t even properly started yet. Other than the main quests, is there any other way to increase points faster?”

The system said, “As mentioned last time — aside from the main storyline, you can also increase points by improving your protagonist’s skills, social relationships, external environment, appearance, and physical condition. Strengthening these areas will pave the way for his growth and add points as well.”

Among these, the external environment was the aspect Su Xi had spent the most points on.

As for the others — aside from the social relationships, which had twice led to “face-slapping” incidents that increased her score — almost nothing else had added points.

Physical condition. Was she supposed to somehow trick her little Zai Zai into doing push-ups or some kind of exercise?

But since she still couldn’t communicate with him, that was clearly impossible for now.

Skills —

Just as Su Xi was about to study how she could start working on that aspect, the system popped up a new side quest:

> Side Quest 1: Please personally tie a beautiful bow on the bow and arrow your protagonist is about to finish crafting. Completing this side quest will grant a reward.

Su Xi: …………

???

What kind of bizarre task was this?

Could it be that her little Zai Zai — despite that cold, proud face — was actually a delicate little prince with a secret fondness for ribbons?

She asked, “Are there any other side quests available right now?”

The system popped up another one:

> Side Quest 2: There is a kitchen chef in Prince Ning’s residence named Chef Ding. He is very knowledgeable in spring planting and autumn harvest. A few days ago, he was falsely accused and humiliated by the steward, and he now plans to resign and return to his hometown. In the future, he can become a capable assistant who helps the protagonist, under an alias, purchase farmland and conduct trade. Please find him and bring him into the protagonist’s service.

Both side quests felt a bit ahead of their time, so Su Xi decided to note them down for now.

She closed the side quest interface and switched back to the courtyard to see how far her little Zai Zai had gotten.

───♡───

In the courtyard, Lu Huan was placing all the eggs into a wooden bucket, covering them with an old robe, then heading toward the side gate of Prince Ning’s residence.

Over the past three days, the hens had remained in their warm coop, each laying two to three eggs per day.

By this point, when he finished counting, there were a total of one hundred and ninety-two eggs.

That many eggs were quite heavy; if Lu Huan hadn’t secretly practiced martial arts since childhood and developed strength, he likely wouldn’t have been able to lift them.

The guard who helped him sell goods outside the residence took the bucket and immediately bent over from the weight, utterly startled.

The side gate was near the courtyard of Fourth Concubine; Su Xi had already unlocked that area last time, so she adjusted the view and watched as her little Zai Zai handed the eggs over to the guard.

Above the guard’s head, speech bubbles popped up one after another:

> ????!!!

Guard C lifted the robe covering the top of the bucket — and the moment he saw the massive number of eggs inside, his jaw nearly hit the ground.

He stood frozen, dumbfounded, like a chicken struck by lightning.

Everyone in Prince Ning’s residence knew that ever since the Third Young Master had received a whole courtyard as a reward from the Old Madam, he had begun growing vegetables and raising chickens.

That wasn’t surprising; unlike the two legitimate young masters who received twenty taels of silver each month, the Third Young Master’s situation, though improved, was still akin to being exiled — he had to fend for himself when it came to food and clothing.

So when Guard C had agreed to help him sell some goods outside in exchange for a small payment, he’d assumed the Third Young Master would only have a modest amount to trade — just enough to swap for some food.

Who could have imagined—

That only a few days after buying a handful of chickens, the Third Young Master would suddenly produce this many eggs?!

This many eggs?!

My god!

When the guard finished calculating the total silver, he nearly fainted on the spot.

Outside, a jin of pork cost thirty wen, and a single egg cost six wen.

One hundred and ninety-two eggs came to one thousand one hundred and fifty-two wen—that was already more than one tael of silver.

If the Third Young Master could earn over one tael of silver just from raising chickens for three days, then combined with his other crops, wouldn’t he soon be wealthier than the two legitimate young masters?!

This…

Guard C swallowed hard.

All of a sudden, the idea of quitting Prince Ning’s residence and following the Third Young Master instead didn’t seem like such a bad plan.

He quietly snuck off to sell the eggs for Lu Huan, while Lu Huan himself turned back toward the side gate.

Of course, Lu Huan had never intended to remain confined within Prince Ning’s residence, merely growing vegetables and raising chickens on that small patch of land for his own survival.

He needed silver and for that, he would need more land and more manpower.

If he could understand the principles behind the strange and ingenious cold-proof shelter that person had sent him, he might be able to replicate it and build many more of them, then, under a false name, acquire farmland outside and establish an estate of his own.

Once he had his own estate, the silver would flow endlessly.

But for Lu Huan, such plans were not the most pressing concern.

What mattered most at this moment was—it was already the evening of the third day.

Had that person… seen the note he left?

At the thought, Lu Huan quickened his pace, hurrying through the bamboo grove on his way back.

In the past, every time he returned here, the courtyard was quiet and empty.

His heart had never stirred; he simply felt that though the world was vast, there was nowhere that truly belonged to him.

But now—somewhere deep inside, a faint, barely perceptible hope had begun to take root.

…Whether that person was merely teasing or toying with him,he still—ridiculously, humbly—hoped that they would continue, that they wouldn’t suddenly vanish.

Lu Huan pressed his lips together, lowering his dark eyes slightly, forcing himself not to reveal the flicker of light within them.

With that tangled, unspeakable feeling in his chest, he tried to appear calm as he stepped back into the room.

However—

When he walked quickly to the table and held his breath to look at the note, it was still—only his own handwriting.

But then, Lu Huan’s gaze sharpened.

The brush beside the paper had clearly been moved.

The traces were subtle, almost invisible, but his perception was keen—he noticed.

That meant—that person had been here!

…Only, they hadn’t replied.

Why?

Were they too disdainful to answer?

Or—did they think it unnecessary?

A chill wind drifted in through the window, brushing against the thin sheet of paper in his hand until it fluttered softly.

Lu Huan stood silent for a long moment, then crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it aside.

───♡───

On the other side of the screen, Su Xi could only watch helplessly as her little Zai Zai lowered his bun-like face, the light in his eyes fading into brief, quiet loneliness.

She: “…”

Even the jianbing guozi in her hand suddenly didn’t taste good anymore.