Chu Yanran stood frozen, unable to process the violence of the moment, but Chen Qiuyue was already exploding in a fury.

“You’ve lost your mind!” Qiuyue shrieked, lunging forward with clawing hands. “You worthless fool! How dare you lay a hand on Eleventh Brother? I’ll kill you!”

Though battered and bleeding, Chang’an did not flinch. As Qiuyue closed the distance, his hand snapped up, locking around her wrist with iron grip. His gaze remained cold, utterly devoid of fear.

“Remember your place, Seventh Sister!” Chang’an barked. “In Father’s absence, an elder brother stands in his stead. I was speaking directly with the Princess Consort—since when does an adopted brat like Chen Fusheng have the right to interject? As his ninth brother, I was merely teaching him proper decorum. What of it?”

Qiuyue froze, her mouth hanging open in shock. When had this silent, pathetic tool learned to speak with such sharp authority? The words died in her throat, leaving her unable to utter a single syllable of rebuttal.

Chu Yanran slammed her palm onto the table, her face flushed with indignation. “Insolent child! Your eleventh brother was pleading for leniency on your behalf! How can you be so blind to his good intentions?”

“Did I ask him to plead for me?” Chang’an asked, shaking his head. “Princess Consort, I am well aware of where your affections lie. To you, I am nothing more than trash—a useless disgrace who knows nothing of poetry, martial arts, or statecraft. My very presence in the Prince of Huainan’s Manor does nothing but tarnish Father’s grand legacy. Since my existence disgusts you so profoundly, simply grant my request and let me leave. Is that truly so difficult?”

Leave! He had said it again.

Once or twice could be dismissed as a petulant outburst, but repeating it so brazenly was a direct challenge to her authority. Chu Yanran’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. If Chen Chang’an believed he could use self-banishment as leverage to force her hand, she would show him the true weight of his insignificance. She would see whose resolve cracked first.

“Very well,” Chu Yanran hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “Since you are so eager to cast yourself out, I shall not stand in your way! I will dispatch a courier to the military camp immediately and summon the Prince home. The moment he signs the Severance Agreement, you will no longer bear the Chen name, nor will you hold any tie to this manor!”

Behind his silk hand towel, Chen Fusheng’s eyes gleamed with predatory triumph. If Chen Chang’an severed his ties, Fusheng would be the sole young master left in the household—adopted or not. The prospect of total inheritance filled him with intoxicating glee.

“Mother, Ninth Brother is right… I deserved that strike,” Fusheng said, squeezing out a choked, tearful voice to maintain his saintly facade to the very end. “Please, do not cast him out. I beg of you…”

Qiuyue violently yanked her wrist free from Chang’an’s grip, her temper flaring anew. “Eleventh Brother, stop humiliating yourself for him! The fool knows he broke the rules and is only putting on this act to escape punishment. Without the backing of the Prince’s Manor, he is nothing but a stray dog in the gutter. Let him rot!”

Chen Chunhua frowned, her voice crisp and dismissive. “Ninth Brother, do you truly mean to drag yourself back to the Foundling Hall and wallow among the dregs of society? Have you no sense of shame for our family’s reputation?”

Chang’an ignored them completely. Stepping forward, he dropped to his knees before Chu Yanran and performed a slow, heavy kowtow. His expression was serene, though a spark of liberation flickered in his dark eyes.

“Princess Consort, I thank you for your magnanimity. Please send for the Prince without delay. This kowtow concludes my gratitude for the six years of shelter you provided. Farewell.”

Rising smoothly, Chang’an turned on his heel and walked out with a light, unhurried stride. A profound weight lifted from his chest. He was free—truly free. He wanted nothing more than to step beyond these gilded gates and never look back.

***

Chang’an’s quarters were situated in the far corner of the estate, directly adjacent to the royal stables. The air inside was perpetually thick with the sharp, suffocating stench of manure and urine. His furnishings consisted of nothing more than a crude wooden plank bed and a wobbly desk. On the desk lay a single sheet of fine Xuan paper.

Brushed upon it in earnest, deliberate calligraphy was a poetic couplet:

*“Fallen blossoms are not heartless things; in spring, they turn to soil to nourish the blooms.”*

Beneath it ran a dedication: *“A humble gift for Eldest Sister.”*

Looking at those clumsy, desperate characters, Chang’an felt as though his past self were laughing at his own foolishness. His eldest sister, Chen Hongluo, managed Ni Shang Hall—the premier textile establishment in Jiangdu. She was an uncompromising workaholic whose health was constantly failing from exhaustion.

Chang’an recalled how he had once skimped on meals for six months to purchase precious herbs and brew a nourishing tonic for her. Excitedly bringing it to her office, he had been met only with her disgust as she slapped the food box from his hands, shattering the flask. Even then, he had swallowed his tears, convincing himself that she wasn’t coldhearted—just overwhelmed by the burden of providing for the family.

Chang’an raised his hand and slapped his own face twice, hard.

*What a pathetic wretch I was,* he thought, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. *A utter, irredeemable fool.*

He had little to pack. Reaching under the plank bed, he pulled out the battered cloth bundle he had brought from the Foundling Hall six years ago and stuffed a few coarse garments inside. From a hidden floorboard, he retrieved a rusted iron tin containing ten taels of silver—his entire worldly wealth, scraped together copper by copper over years of frugal living.

Securing the bundle across his shoulder, he felt an exhilarating surge of adrenaline. Closing the door behind him, he made his way toward the main courtyard.

In the grand dining hall, the family had gathered around a lavish table. Chen Fusheng’s cheek was wrapped in pristine white silk, and Chu Yanran was fussing over him, feeding him delicate spoonfuls of soup with a mother’s tender devotion. Chang’an let out a silent, icy sneer. His own legs had nearly been splintered by the heavy disciplinary rods, yet his biological mother had not spared him a single glance.

“Ninth Brother,” Chen Chunhua called out, noticing him at the threshold. “Mother has dispatched the messengering riders. Father will return by noon tomorrow. Sit and join us for dinner.”

Chang’an’s heart beat with quiet excitement. The Prince’s imminent return meant his final liberation was at hand.

“I am but a lowly commoner,” Chang’an replied, a faint, mocking laugh trailing his words. “I am hardly worthy to share a board with high nobility. Princess Consort, I merely came to deliver my final respects. May our paths diverge forever, and may we live in mutual peace. I wish the Huainan Manor a grand and prosperous future—without me.”

Chunhua’s brow furrowed. Was he truly so resolutely set on leaving?

Qiuyue sneered, her lip curling in disgust. “You ungrateful beast! Mother is the revered Consort of Huainan. Does she require the blessing of a vagrant? Get out, then! Just make sure you don’t come crawling back to Mother, begging for mercy when the authorities lock you up for thievery!”

Chang’an laughed aloud, turning his back on them without a second thought. Even if he were starving in the gutter, he would never cast a glance back at Chu Yanran.

Leaving the affluent center of Jiangdu behind, Chang’an walked north. An hour later, he reached the damp, squalid slums near the river docks. Here, the air hung heavy with the pungent reek of raw fish and river silt. Bare-chested laborers with sun-darkened skin hauled heavy nets and cargo, competing fiercely for every copper.

Chang’an parted with one tael of silver to rent a dilapidated fishing skiff. Though battered and unfit for deep-water navigation, the tiny cabin offered a dry roof over his head. Sitting on the bow, watching the dark current roll past under the moonlight while distant river shanties drifted through the fog, he felt a tranquil stillness he had not experienced in years.

*The Kingdom of Chu is sliding toward ruin,* he reflected, leaning against the wooden mast. *I must secure my footing and leave its borders as soon as possible. Though the Kingdom of Qi is small, Luo Mushi is a brilliant, formidable ruler. Now that she has claimed the imperial throne, she will never bow to Chu’s aggression. The enemy of my enemy is my greatest ally.*

Luo Mushi had once spent three years in Jiangdu as a royal hostage-scholar. The Prince of Huainan had dismissed a princess from an insignificant border state as worthless, dumping the task of hosting her onto Chang’an. During those years, the two outcast youths had shared books, discussed strategy, and forged an unbreakable bond. Reaching her domain was his surest path to power.

*I must gather sufficient funds for the journey to Qi. Passing the upcoming civil examinations to secure scholar status will grant me unrestricted travel permits across provincial lines. But before any of that… I must settle matters here.*

With his decision made, Chang’an ground an inkstick on a stone slab and smoothed out a crisp sheet of Xuan paper. Taking up the brush, he let his hand flow across the parchment with absolute conviction.

[Severance Agreement]

*I petition the High Heavens above and the Deep Earth below. Let the ancient spirits take note, the Three Realms be informed, and the Sky bear witness. I, Chen Chang’an, do hereby of my own free will sever all bonds of blood, kinship, and duty with the Manor of the Prince of Huainan. Henceforth, we shall walk as strangers across the earth, bound by neither love nor obligation. Should the house of Huainan ever seek to claim or compel me against my spirit, it shall be deemed a transgression against the Grand Dao—punishable by the shattering of their cultivation, the extinction of their lineage, and the eternal erasure of their names from the wheel of reincarnation.*

He drafted two identical copies, signing his name with sharp, unyielding strokes. All that remained was for Chen Zhan to affix his seal tomorrow.

After that, the sea would be vast enough for the fish to leap, and the sky wide enough for the bird to fly!