Henry Clark spat blood and fainted on the spot, but fortunately was taken in by a kind-hearted farmer. He lay bedridden for a whole month before he could walk again. By then, he had calmed down and realized that he could not possibly seek revenge against the powerful Xiahou clan on his own, so he turned his fury toward William Brooks, the one who betrayed the empress!

Moreover, William Brooks had betrayed the empress yet received no reward from the Xiahou clan, becoming the laughingstock of the realm. Countless people wanted to kill him to vent their anger, and even if they made a move against him, their identities would not be exposed.

So, after recovering from his injuries, Henry Clark went to Qiantang County and secretly observed for several days, having already figured out the situation of the Lu family. That night, as wind and rain raged, Henry Clark quietly slipped into the rear residence of the county office and opened the door to the east wing.

Inside the room, William Brooks's children were fast asleep. Looking at the two small figures on the bed, Henry Clark did not hesitate for a moment and raised his butcher's knife! He wanted William Brooks to taste the agony of losing his entire family.

Just as he was about to strike, William Brooks's son was startled awake by a nightmare and began to wail in heart-wrenching cries!

Hearing the crying, Henry Clark forcibly stopped his hand, standing there in a daze!

Then, as if mad, he disregarded the risk of exposure and lit a candle, seeing the boy's face clearly. With a clang, the knife in Henry Clark's hand fell to the ground...

Because that boy was clearly the crown prince he had watched grow up! The crown prince who was supposed to have perished in the fire at Fenghuang Temple!

William Brooks rushed over at the sound, shocked to see an uninvited guest. Just as he was about to protect the children, he saw the other man, tears streaming down his face, kowtow and say, “Henry Clark, on behalf of the late emperor and empress, bows in gratitude for Mr. Brooks's great kindness and virtue!”

William Brooks also recognized the famous double-bladed Henry Clark, and only then put away his weapon and walked to the bedside. He embraced the terrified boy, gently patting his back. After coaxing the boy back to sleep, he softly said, “This child was in the carriage at the time and witnessed his own mother being burned to death…”

“Then the boy who was burned to death at Fenghuang Temple…” Although Henry Clark had already guessed the truth, he still couldn't help but ask, “Who was it?!”

William Brooks fell silent in despair, blood and tears streaming from his eyes.

Chapter One: Fleeting Years

The tenth year of the beginning, spring was warm and the scenery bright.

On the misty West Lake, raindrops sparkled here and there. The slanting wind and fine rain of mid-spring only heightened the pleasure of the talented and beautiful as they enjoyed their outing. On the lake, some played the qin or the xiao, others sang loudly, all at ease yet secretly competing with one another.

Among these pleasure boats, the most dazzling was a two-story painted barge. With vermilion railings and painted eaves, it was far more ornate than any other vessel. But what truly drew all the surrounding boats to flock toward it was the peerless beauty aboard.

When the sound of the qin rang out from the upper deck, shrouded in light gauze, the entire West Lake fell silent. Listening to that celestial music, as if pearls falling onto a jade plate, people felt transported to a pure and beautiful world, their hearts thoroughly cleansed by the melody. Everyone forgot about scheming and grudges, knowing only peace and joy, wishing only to drink and make merry amid the misty beauty of the lake and mountains...

The heavenly music drifted to the shore, where passersby stopped in their tracks, gazing longingly at the graceful figure on the painted barge. The willows along the lakeside trailed their countless green ribbons across the tender surface of the water, as if the entire West Lake was intoxicated by the music.

A pair of siblings, holding an umbrella, strolled along the rain-shrouded, music-drenched shore of West Lake. The boy was about fifteen or sixteen, tall and slender, his skin fair as jade, his features strikingly handsome. He wore a white robe, carrying a bamboo basket in one hand and holding the umbrella over his sister with the other, appearing gentle and obedient.

Yet no one noticed that in his gaze toward the lake was a cold, grim determination far beyond his years, a stark contrast to his appearance.

The girl was sixteen or seventeen, her hair styled in the popular southern fashion, dressed in a fitted pale yellow skirt that made her look graceful and elegant, as delicate as orchids. Her brows and eyes were like a painting, her skin whiter than snow. A plum blossom mark adorned her smooth forehead, and two locks of black hair framed her face, making her look even more delicate, fresh, and charming.

Such a misty, rainy season was perfect for a young girl's musings. Along the way, she reminisced about the ten years they had spent living in Yuhang, saying that her northern accent had already been replaced by the soft Wu dialect, and if she returned to the capital, the other ladies would surely laugh at her. She also lamented that she had always been taller than her younger brother, but now, without realizing it, she only reached his brow.

As she spoke, the girl turned and raised her delicate hand, wanting to compare the top of her head to her brother's brow to confirm the height difference. But she saw the boy lost in thought, gazing at the lake.

Following his gaze, the girl saw the painted barge surrounded by admirers, her brows furrowing slightly before she smiled and said, “Little Brother really has grown up…”

The boy was startled at her words. When he turned back, his eyes were gentle and warm, with no trace of coldness. His cheeks flushed slightly as he protested, “Big Sister, what are you talking about?”

“Shy, shy, Little Grace really is coming of age.” Seeing his embarrassment, the girl giggled, her laughter light and carefree. The boy could only helplessly tilt the oil-paper umbrella more over his sister's head to keep the rain from wetting her clothes.

When the girl had laughed enough, she rested her hand on her brother's arm. After catching her breath, she too gazed longingly at the painted barge and whispered, “She plays the qin so beautifully. How wonderful it would be to become her disciple.”