The Overachieving Little Husband of the Top Scholar’s Household - Chapter 90: From Summer into Autumn

Chapter 90: From Summer into Autumn

The fire that engulfed the Zhu residence raged through the night, casting a blood-red glow over Tianshui Lane. It took hours of labor from fire brigades and neighbors alike to finally extinguish the mysterious blaze.

By dawn, the entirety of the Zhu estate lay in charred ruin. From the smoldering remains, coroners extracted several burnt corpses—unidentifiable without closer examination.

As the first rays of morning pierced the haze, Zhu Xia knelt beside the wreckage, her face streaked with soot, her voice lost, eyes vacant as if her spirit had fled.

Yamen officers soon arrived to escort her away—the sole surviving member of the Zhu family—for questioning.

The Shu household, gripped by unease, had no choice but to send for Qiu Huanian again.

“The Zhu estate was reduced to ash?” Qiu Huanian froze, a cold realization flashing through his mind—someone had eliminated witnesses.

He had once written a private letter to Prefect Si Jing, warning of the Zhu family’s involvement in a murder case. Yet Si Jing had remained silent.

Du Yunse, whom he had later consulted, explained the clue was linked to a larger human trafficking case. To avoid alarming the culprits, the prefect had delayed action.

Now, with the Zhu family suddenly and utterly destroyed, it was clear the true puppeteer had made a move.

Qiu Huanian stood abruptly, only to sink back down, glancing about his home as panic gripped his chest. His weak constitution could not endure the shock. A tightness seized him; his breath came short and ragged.

If someone could annihilate an entire household and incinerate the evidence overnight, what else were they capable of?

“Jin San, go to the academy. Bring Yunse back. Now.”

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Jin San rushed to Qingfeng Academy. Du Yunse soon arrived, breathless from the haste.

Though burdened with the pressure of the upcoming provincial examinations and secret responsibilities, Du Yunse came without hesitation when he heard Qiu Huanian needed him.

The two retreated into the private quarters of the main residence.

Du Yunse took Qiu Huanian’s icy hand, kissed it tenderly, and murmured, “You’re freezing. Lie down. I’ll stay with you.”

He gently lifted Qiu Huanian onto the kang, removed his shoes, socks, and outer robe with practiced care.

Suddenly, Qiu Huanian clung to him, dragging him down into the warmth.

The gauzy curtains fell around them, enclosing their world.

Du Yunse laughed quietly. “Still as clingy as ever.”

But nestled against Du Yunse’s steady heartbeat, Qiu Huanian felt a fragile sense of safety bloom, as if every lurking fear had been held at bay by this single embrace.

Du Yunse stroked his back, his larger frame enveloping Qiu Huanian like a shield.

“I had a vision,” Qiu Huanian whispered. “The house—burning. I panicked.”

“And now?” Du Yunse’s voice was low, steady.

“Now that you’re here… the fear is gone.”

Du Yunse kissed his cheek gently. “Hua, don’t be afraid.”

Qiu Huanian trembled slightly.

Du Yunse leaned close and whispered a Zhang County lullaby in his ear—an old summoning incantation used to retrieve a wandering soul.

“Ten Directions Gods, Three Souls and Seven Spirits. Peaceful spirit, body unbound. From a thousand miles, swiftly return.”

Qiu Huanian listened silently, then let out a soft laugh.

“You’re treating me like a child.”

“You worry me more than one.”

And the chant seemed to work—his fingers warmed, his numb limbs regained feeling, and his heart, once seized with terror, gradually settled.

“You said before—the prefect found the Zhu family was linked to the traffickers. Is this fire related?”

Du Yunse nodded.

“The investigation led to Qingwu Nunnery, but the trail went cold. So the prefect orchestrated a public visit by his wife, feigning piety, to scare them into acting prematurely. He then tracked their desperate efforts to conceal evidence.”

“He allowed the chaos to unfold, ensuring the real evidence remained untouched, and planted the rest to mislead them.”

Qiu Huanian frowned. “But they caught on anyway?”

Du Yunse’s eyes darkened. “Cornered beasts lash out.”

“First it was the Second Prince, and now Prince Jin. Have you allied yourself with the Crown Prince?”

Qiu Huanian’s voice lowered as the realization dawned—Du Yunse had once again become entangled in the heart of court politics.

“These traffickers span multiple regions. Protected by officials, they target noblewomen, sort them by appearance and talent, and send the most exceptional southward—for vile purposes.”

“There’s proof some changed identities, marrying into powerful households and forming a hidden network to funnel information to the one pulling the strings.”

“There are whispers the mastermind behind the operation is none other than Prince Jin.”

Jia Honghan, the third prince. Nearly the same age as the Crown Prince, born of Consort Ying—revered for her grace and virtuous conduct.

He was the first prince granted a fief, his reputation that of a scholar-prince who kept his ambitions carefully veiled.

“First the Second Prince, now Prince Jin… So you’re siding with the Crown Prince?”

Du Yunse’s expression shifted subtly.

“It’s not that I’ve chosen him. It’s that the man on the throne wants me on his side.”

His voice grew colder.

“And I—will not be anyone’s pawn. If aiding the future emperor yields reward, I’ll claim it.”

In that moment, Du Yunse was like a blade hidden in snow: calm, cold, deadly. But the arms that held Qiu Huanian remained warm.

This man—his greatest weakness—was the one thing Du Yunse could not afford to lose.

Qiu Huanian clung to him, overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

To love, to be loved—deeply, truly—was no small thing.

“What is the Crown Prince like?” Qiu Huanian asked quietly.

“Prince Jin may be admired for his scholarly demeanor, but when it comes to true intellect and breadth of learning, the Crown Prince is peerless.”

Du Yunse, who had studied alongside the prince, knew the truth. The gentle, almost fragile heir was a figure of immense, quiet strength.

“Those in the palace say he takes after the late Empress—kind, refined. But that is only one side of him.”

Du Yunse didn’t elaborate further. Even in privacy, speaking too freely of the Crown Prince was dangerous.

Qiu Huanian, too far removed from the palace’s poisonous games, knew better than to pry.

But he had always known the Crown Prince wasn’t as simple as he appeared. From his deep interest in agricultural reform to his self-effacing withdrawal from court conflict, he maneuvered with precision.

With the Second Prince’s flamboyant rise and Prince Jin’s quiet moves, the Crown Prince had managed to elude the worst of the storm—without ever leaving the center.

…

At the yamen, Zhu Xia remained curled in a corner, arms around her knees, expression blank. She answered questions mechanically, her mind adrift.

Thanks to certain unseen hands at work, she was spared the worst of the interrogation.

By nightfall, the coroner had completed the grim task—nineteen dead, including Zhu Lu, who had come home for a visit. The bodies bore not only burns but knife wounds.

Zhu Xia was escorted once more to the ruins. The ancestral hall, where her mother had spent so many hours in recent years, had been reduced to ash. But when the investigators dug three feet beneath the floor where her mother once knelt in prayer, they uncovered a sealed box.

In that instant, Zhu Xia understood everything.

She collapsed to her knees, mouth open in a silent scream. No tears came. She was beyond grief.

The following day, an imperial edict ordered a full investigation into the Provincial Judicial Commissioner’s Office. The emperor’s reach had finally arrived.

The commissioner, overwhelmed by fear and guilt, took his own life—severing all clear links to his crimes.

As the investigation unfolded, the truth behind the Zhu family’s demise came to light.

Realizing their crimes had been exposed, Zhu’s father had planned an escape. Zhu Lu had returned to persuade him. But the true mastermind was already prepared.

Before they could flee, annihilation descended.

Ironically, the fire had not been part of the original plan—it was sparked by Zhu Xia’s mother, fighting back in desperation.

The evidence she had hidden beneath the ancestral hall was pivotal. It became the key to unraveling the commissioner’s corruption.

Though the mastermind remained hidden, their operatives were decimated. A web that had taken years to weave was torn apart in days—and could not be easily reknit.

Upon hearing of Zhu Lu’s death, the Zhu clan’s second branch realized something was terribly wrong. They locked down their own household.

The eldest son of the second branch began to panic.

“I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t know the Zhu family was involved!” he wept. “I just… liked the women they sent me. They were so beautiful… skilled…”

Old Madam Zhu, gripping her cane, trembled with rage.

“When you begged to marry the Zhu family’s eldest daughter, we believed you had finally matured. We consented—only to be deceived.”

“After marriage, you took one concubine after another. You even kept mistresses. I suspected, but Zhu Lu remained composed, so I held back.”

“But you never married a wife—you married a madam. You fooled us all!”

Zhu Jingcheng stepped forward, gently supporting his grandmother.

“Don’t distress yourself, Grandmother. Leave this to me.”

She drew a deep breath, steadying herself.

“Your grandfather and I are agreed. That scoundrel has brought disgrace to our house. Turn him over to the yamen. Let the law do its work.”

Zhu Jingcheng bowed. “As you wish.”

“No! Grandmother, please!” the eldest son of the second branch cried. “Brother, please! For the sake of the child in your wife’s womb, show mercy!”

“Mercy?” Zhu Jingwei sneered. “You call yourself our brother? You’re not even worthy to carry my brother’s shoes!”

Zhu Jingcheng raised a hand, stopping his younger brother from lashing out.

He looked down at the man who had once called him family.

“To turn you in, to expose your crimes and offer restitution to your victims—that is the only way we’ll earn blessings for my unborn child.”

…

Zhu Jingcheng personally delivered the second branch’s heir and his servants to the authorities, ordering a full audit of all his concubines and outside estates, ensuring every origin was accounted for.

After delegating each task, Zhu Jingcheng stepped out of the room and caught sight of Dian Mo by Su Xinbai’s side.

At the thought of Su Xinbai, Zhu Jingcheng’s steely demeanor softened at once.

“Master wanted me to check whether the Eldest Young Master will be returning for dinner,” Dian Mo asked politely.

“Of course,” Zhu Jingcheng replied, pausing for a moment. “I’ll freshen up and change into clean clothes before I come back.”

“Make sure Xinbai gets some rest. Don’t let him catch wind of any of the outside troubles.”

Dian Mo nodded vigorously. “Master hasn’t been feeling well and hasn’t been sleeping. We wouldn’t dare let him find out.”

Zhu Jingcheng’s brows furrowed. “I’ll arrange for a few physicians and chefs from the surrounding towns to come over later.”

…

Ten days after the Zhu family fire, Qiu Huanian received an invitation from Madam Huang and her younger sister.

“Madam Huang intends to adopt Zhu Xia as her goddaughter?” Qiu Huanian was momentarily taken aback, then smiled. “That’s wonderful news. I’ll prepare a generous gift and attend.”

The misdeeds of Zhu Xia’s father had not escaped judgment even in death. He was posthumously punished, and three generations of his line were exiled to appease the spirits of those he had harmed.

However, Si Jing, moved by the suffering and endurance of Zhu Xia’s mother, used a flawed divorce agreement found in a small, hidden box beneath the ancestral hall’s cushion to legally separate her from her late husband.

Zhu Xia, sent away by her mother to escape calamity, followed her mother in this legal separation and was thereby no longer considered part of the Zhu family, thus evading exile.

Zhu Xia had lived with the Shu family and the Huang sisters for some time and gradually grew close to them.

The Huang sisters, childless and sympathetic to her plight, decided to formally adopt her.

“The officials say you must change your surname,” said Huang Daniang. “You shouldn’t carry the Zhu name anymore. I won’t give you mine either. Your mother was an extraordinary woman—you should take her surname: Wei.”

Huang Daniang gently patted her hand. “I’m just a simple woman, not good with grand names. Would you like me to name you, or shall we hire a scholar?”

Having just buried her mother, whose grave now bore the title “Chaste Woman” and was to be honored with a memorial archway, Zhu Xia fought back emotion.

“You choose, godmother,” she whispered.

Huang Daniang had pondered names for days, finding most of her ideas inelegant or too plain.

“Alright then. You’ve survived disaster, so surely good fortune awaits. Let’s give you an auspicious name—Wei Fuxia.”

Zhu Xia softly repeated the name and turned to glance at her mother’s grave.

“It sounds beautiful. Let’s go with that.”

A few days later, the Huang sisters hosted a banquet, inviting friends and family to formally introduce their goddaughter, Wei Fuxia.

Still in mourning, Wei Fuxia refrained from joining the feast. Huang Daniang, considerate as always, had prepared several exquisite vegetarian dishes for her so she wouldn’t feel excluded.

Wei Fuxia’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“My dear, today’s a happy occasion. No more tears,” Huang Daniang said gently. “Qiu Xiangjun has already arrived, and Ru Tang is greeting guests. Go enjoy the moment.”

Qiu Huanian arrived with Jiu Jiu to extend congratulations, presenting Wei Fuxia with a jade peace pendant blessed at the temple and a set of writing brushes and books.

Wei Fuxia looked toward Jiu Jiu with visible guilt and offered an apology.

Jiu Jiu let out a sigh and held her hand.

“I’m not upset anymore. When Ru Tang comes to visit me, you should come too. We’ll read and play on the swings together.”

…

The human trafficking case was thoroughly investigated for over half a month. No detail was spared, and in the end, the criminals were marched to the market square and publicly executed.

Among them was Shu Huacai’s younger brother, Shu Erniu, who was sentenced to death. Fortunately, his family was spared further punishment.

Shu Huacai’s real name, once Shu Daniu, had been changed by Zheng Yiwan after their fortunes collapsed. Upon learning her father’s old name, Ru Tang had to stifle laughter.

Back then, the public was morbidly fascinated with executions—especially those involving notorious criminals—so the marketplace was crowded with spectators.

When the traffickers were executed, Madam Huang and the others asked Qiu Huanian if he wanted to watch.

He pictured the scene and felt nauseous.

Du Yunse refused on his behalf. “Huanian’s health is fragile. It’s best he avoids such grisly sights.”

Madam Huang nodded. “You’re right. We’ll go on ahead, then.”

Qiu Huanian watched as Du Yunse adjusted his hair.

“Brother Hua, didn’t you make plum wine recently? Let’s have a drink.”

The plum wine was no more than green plums steeped in clear alcohol, left to ferment just long enough to develop a gentle aroma.

Du Yunse, typically strict about Qiu Huanian’s drinking, surprised him by suggesting they share a drink. Qiu Huanian eagerly brought out the jar.

A light drizzle had begun to fall, shrouding the pavilions and rooftops in mist. The dampness clung to the air, tinged with a melancholic stillness.

Qiu Huanian poured himself a large cup and handed a smaller one to Du Yunse.

“One for you, one for me. Shall we drink until we forget ourselves?”

Du Yunse saw through his ploy to drink more and chuckled. “Then I’ll be tipsy after one cup.”

“Stingy,” Qiu Huanian grumbled.

Du Yunse laughed and poured the wine, gently clinking their cups together.

“Let this light rain honor the wronged souls. Let us drink in peace.”

Qiu Huanian took a sip; the flavor was much like a modern fruit wine—sweet and mellow, just what he needed.

Though they avoided the gruesome execution scene, government notices listing the names and crimes of the executed were posted everywhere.

Among them, one name stood out to Qiu Huanian—Li Guer.

“You reap what you sow. No one escapes their fate.”

…

May had passed in a blur, and June followed swiftly. The garden blooms had faded, and the oppressive heat gave way to a refreshing crispness. Beyond the city, golden fields rippled in the breeze.

In the twenty-second year of Yuanhua, Liaozhou enjoyed a rare peace—no famine, no war.

The city itself felt unchanged, but outside the walls, life bustled with harvest season.

Qiu Huanian’s estate had already gathered several batches of cotton. The autumn peaches waited patiently to ripen. The harvested cotton, immediately processed through separating machines, became pristine white bundles that now filled the storerooms.

This year proved that Qiu Huanian’s cotton cultivation methods could be replicated, and his agricultural treatise was steadily being refined.

News of his thirty-acre yield spread fast, attracting a stream of visitors with mixed intentions—among them, Prefect Si Jing and the Commander of Liaozhou.

Qiu Huanian received them with poise, though his mind often wandered far from the cotton fields.

By July, the harvest wasn’t the only matter of consequence—Du Yunse’s provincial examination also loomed near.

Whether this year would truly be one of abundance would only be known once the exam results arrived.