The name “Luo Congye” was something Bai Heting had seen on a soft, delicate scroll of parchment.
That year, he was only five years old and completely illiterate. These complex characters looked no different from gibberish talismans in his eyes. He took it to the most learned person on the street—a wandering bard temporarily residing there to escape the war and asked him to read it aloud.
The man was quite surprised.
This kind of noble paper should not have appeared in a poor, lowly household like Bai Heting’s.
“Which high official or noble did you steal this from?” He asked with a beaming smile.
Bai Heting was habitually taciturn, but he still offered an explanation, “It’s mine.”
His tone was stiff, and his light brown eyes were filled with stubbornness.
The man assumed he was just too ashamed to admit it, but he didn’t make things difficult for the five-year-old child either. He carefully read the words on the parchment to him and teased, “This noble name shares the same surname as your mother.”
This was the first time Bai Heting had ever heard the pronunciation of the three characters “Luo Congye.”
It was also the first time he had seen how his mother’s surname was written.
Seeing how intently the child was listening, the man repeated it for him a few more times. At the end, he kindly warned him, “Remember, you must never touch the belongings of nobles. If you’re caught, losing a hand would be considered a light punishment.” But then, his tone abruptly shifted. He plucked the harp beside him, his attitude becoming familiar and warm. “How has your mother been lately? Tell him for me that whenever he wants to play the harp, he’s welcome to come over anytime.”
He didn’t seem to notice Bai Heting’s darkening face and continued to curry favor on his own: “Who knows how many years this war will drag on. People really ought to enjoy themselves while they can. I have some fresh wild strawberries here; take some back for him in a bit.”
Bai Heting packed away the parchment. Not only did he refuse to take anything, but he didn’t even say a word of farewell.
His mother possessed an incomparably beautiful face. Not only was he literate, but he also played the harp beautifully and carried himself with an icy aloofness, making him somewhat famous in this cramped and filthy old district.
There were countless rumors about him. Some said he was once a top-tier courtesan in a nobleman’s estate who ended up being kicked out after getting pregnant. Others said he was a noble young master expelled from his family and that the commoner Alpha who ran away with him had unfortunately died in the war, leaving him to fall into his current plight.
Bai Heting felt that all of this was complete nonsense. If they had ever seen how terrifying Luo Wanyin looked when he lost his mind, they would never have associated him with nobility or courtesans.
But the wandering bard did have one thing right, it was indeed impossible for a high-end item like a parchment scroll to appear in his household.
Earlier that day, he had caught Luo Wanyin arguing with a stranger at their doorstep. The stranger’s words were nothing new, just the usual rhetoric used by men who coveted his mother’s beauty.
For example, how chaotic the world had become, and how dangerous it was for an Omega to live here alone while raising a child.
Or, how could he offer some material support and even provide a safe haven for the mother and son.
Bai Heting had heard these repetitive lines so often his ears had grown calluses, but the conversation gradually veered in an unexpected direction.
The man actually said, “Your son is getting older; he needs a name.”
Holding onto the doorframe, Bai Heting cautiously peered outside. The man appeared relatively young and stood tall, dressed in an unremarkable dark gray cloak, yet the well-polished cavalry boots gleaming on his feet revealed that he was someone of considerable wealth or high status.
This man is wasting his breath, Bai Heting thought.
Luo Wanyin would never give him a name.
Sure enough, as soon as those words were spoken, Luo Wanyin became even more agitated than before. He shoved the man repeatedly, all the while hurling curses at him and demanding that he leave.
“Do you truly wish for him to die young?” The disparity in their statures was vast, and the man looked like someone trained in martial arts. He remained rooted where he stood, not budging in the slightest. “This isn’t really my place to do but let him continue being called that.”
Before leaving, the man left behind that parchment scroll, but Luo Wanyin threw it out the door.
It was later picked up by Bai Heting, who had been squatting quietly in the corner of the wall the entire time.
This long-buried childhood memory resurfaced when Bai Yi brought Bai Heting back to the capital. In the royal palace, he saw the man who had once argued with Luo Wanyin. This time, Bai Heting learned his true identity.
He held the marshal’s baton granted by the king, serving as the supreme commander of the Damasen Army and the greatest contributor to the five-year war of founding the nation.
At this time, Pei Ming was only in his early thirties, an age when he should have been at the peak of his career and full of high spirits, yet a hint of exhaustion showed faintly in his demeanor. He never displayed the slightest closeness in front of Bai Heting and kept entirely silent about knowing Luo Wanyin.
Bai Heting didn’t care about this at all.
He neither understood nor cared about the undercurrents surging within the court. Bai Yi had picked him up from a place no better than a garbage dump, given him a name, and provided him with food. He fought wars for Bai Yi, guarding his borders and protecting his lands.
His world was as simple as a blank sheet of paper.
Three years later, the court underwent a massive upheaval. Pei Ming was executed for treason, and Bai Yi reclaimed the titles and fiefdoms he had bestowed upon him. This move triggered an uprising among Pei Ming’s former subordinates within Urdan.
Two weeks after the execution of Pei Ming’s family, several royal regiments suppressing the rebels in Urdan suddenly received a secret royal decree.
The matter was neither too large nor too small; the target to be eliminated was the son of a traitorous official, yet he was also just a defenseless six-year-old child.
Bai Heting was not on the roster for this mission, but by some bizarre whim of fate, he spurred his horse and followed the main vanguard after they departed.
The bright moon emerged from the clouds, casting its cold, clear light onto the courtyard and illuminating the wreckage scattered across the ground.
The door to the house was also flung wide open.
Bai Heting stepped inside.
As a cold gust swept through the room, causing the candlelight to waver, Bai Heting’s eyes widened at once.
He pressed a hand firmly over his mouth, holding his breath completely still.
The naked body of an Omega.
Unidentifiable internal organs.
A sticky sensation beneath the soles of his feet.
A bizarre stench blending the smell of fresh blood with vomiting.
Bai Heting was rooted to the spot, unable to move.
His body felt as if it were sinking into a pool of stagnant, putrid water, while a massive stone pressed against his chest, pulling him deeper and deeper into hopeless despair.
He was suffocating.
“Don’t look.”
Suddenly, a hand covered his eyes.
Bai Heting snapped awake. Alert, he jerked his head aside to dodge, only then realizing that he had collapsed into a sitting position on the floor at some point.
The boy beside him slowly lowered his hand. His vacant, hollow eyes were brimmed with tears, which spilled over and rolled down his cheeks with a single blink.
He stared straight at the corpse on the floor, which was covered by a thin blanket, and murmured as if to himself, “My mother was killed by them.”
The author has something to say:
It’s not an incest storyline, and there are no romantic or ambiguous feelings between Pei Ming and Luo Wanyin.
I can’t say much more without giving away spoilers.
