After hanging up the phone, Yun Ya furrowed her brows in contemplation. Ning Zijin had informed her that Ye Xiaoxiao might act against her. She had never underestimated this woman. In fact, the reason she helped Ning Zijin in the past was partly for Zihuan, and partly because she anticipated a day like today. If it weren’t for Ning Zijin’s reminder, she might have really forgotten about this woman, Ye Xiaoxiao. However, with no reliable personnel in the Capital City, she found herself in a passive position. With Mingyue by her side, she wasn’t overly worried. "Miss, Third Lady is here," Ah Yun said from outside the door. Yun Ya put down her brush and let the ink dry. Just as she stood up, Zhuang Xiyue walked in. "Yun Ya, what are you busy with?" "Nothing much, just practicing calligraphy," Yun Ya replied with an air of nonchalance. Zhuang Xiyue glanced at what lay behind her, unable to contain her surprise, and walked closer for a look: "Such beautiful script." "When autumn arrives on September 8th, after my flowers bloom, all others wither. The scent wafting to Chang’an, the city is clad in golden armor." Powerful strokes penetrated the paper back, the brush moved like a dragon and snake, and a strong aura of vigor and determination greeted her face. "This poem was written by Huang Chao, the leader of a peasant uprising in the late Tang dynasty, it’s an admiration poem using flowers to express one’s ambitions, with an underlying criticism of the dynasty’s darkness and corrupt governance. It embodies the heroic demeanor and noble qualities of the peasant uprising, but you’ve written it with a different nuance. The characters are bold and energetic, with a vast openness, showing elegance yet brimming with a sense of determination," Zhuang Xiyue critiqued. "Just practicing in idle time, sorry to have amused Aunt Zhuang," Yun Ya replied. Zhuang Xiyue gave Yun Ya a meaningful glance: "Your Uncle Yan likes calligraphy. I’ll take this back and show him; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it," she said as she rolled up the piece. Yun Ya felt helpless; her calligraphy was taken away by Zhuang Xiyue—it was just for fun, and taking it out was embarrassing. "I shouldn’t say, but your calligraphy has the spirit of a master. It could be sold on the market. If I claim it’s from an esteemed figure, would you believe someone would actually buy it?" Zhuang Xiyue asked. "Do you have a seal?" Yun Ya shook her head. Since the room was equipped with the Four Treasures of the Study, she wrote for amusement. Otherwise, she wouldn’t usually have such leisure or effort. "Well, my father loves indulging in these things. I’ll have him custom-make one for you," Zhuang Xiyue said. Elder Zhuang was highly respected and had profound knowledge in calligraphy, painting, and seal carving history. His students were all over the world, each an elite in their respective field. Elder Zhuang had a particular fondness for carving, often crafting small ornaments himself, which would be considered rare treasures in the market. "Aunt Zhuang, why are you visiting me?" "Nothing particular, just wanted to see how you’re adjusting to living here. These are all courtyard houses, and I worry you might not be used to it. The north can’t compare to the south; the air is dry, the haze heavy, and over time, the skin tends to peel. I’ll bring you a humidifier later; it’s important to maintain airflow in the room to avoid getting sick." Zhuang Xiyue’s endless chatter revealed her concern, a feeling Yun Ya hadn’t experienced in a long, long time—in fact, she had never had it. The mother she imagined wasn’t like Ji Lanyi’s harshness nor Ji Die’s cautiousness, but like Zhuang Xiyue’s subtle and gentle care. "The floor heating in this room makes it warm, but it can dry out the air. Keep a window slightly open. Also, is your bed comfortable? I specifically had a mulberry silk quilt made for you, so it won’t scratch your skin..." Zhuang Xiyue rambled on, and suddenly Yun Ya hugged her waist from behind, "Aunt Zhuang, why are you so good to me?" "My biological mother never treated me so well," she muttered. Zhuang Xiyue was momentarily stunned, feeling a deep hurt for Yun Ya. This child had been without a mother since young; she often wondered how she managed all these years. Sighing, she turned and embraced her: "The first time I saw you, you were only three or four years old, sticking close to your mom, wearing a pink lace dress—obedient and adorable, with such bright and intelligent eyes. Do you believe in the connection between people? I do. From our first meeting, I felt there was a special bond between us." Actually, Zhuang Xiyue’s feelings for Yun Ya were more complex. Before giving birth to Yan Ke, she had lost a child—a formed baby girl—and the grief nearly overwhelmed her. Later, Yan Ke’s arrival soothed her pain. She thought she was destined not to have the fate of having a daughter, until she met Yun Ya. At the time, she had a premonition that this child was sent from above, acknowledging the mysterious links between people.