The sight of him deeply pained her. She pressed her cheek against his, gently rubbing it as she said, "From now on, we’ll be fine; I won’t leave you." Haoming had once said, "Don’t leave me." She thought she finally understood. It must have been the memory of his heart-wrenching separation from his biological father that stirred these feelings. She wouldn’t leave him. She gave him her promise. As long as he was at peace, that was what mattered. That night, she talked a lot with him, all about ordinary family matters. Initially, she lay on his back, whispering tenderly. Later, he pulled her into his embrace, leaning against his chest, and eventually, when he grew tired, she sat up, letting him rest his head on her lap. They talked until the dawn of the next day. During the conversation, he struggled to squeeze out his words one by one. She thought a child who hadn’t grown up must live in his heart, forever trapped in a childhood of losing loved ones. It’s said that every household has its own difficult scripture to chant, but put another way, every person, no matter whether they appear happy, sad, bitter, or mournful, and no matter how heartless they may seem, carries those experiences buried deep in their heart, invisible pains unseen by others. Everybody has their own suffering, and the nature of suffering varies from person to person. And it seemed that on this very night, the distance between their hearts had quietly shrunk by much... Dong Huiying thought she must do something. So, the next day, she sneaked out for a visit. She went to the wood carving shop they had visited the day before and asked the shopkeeper, "Excuse me, I’d like to inquire about something. Where do these carvings come from? I see the artisan’s skills are very good, and I’d like to commission him to make a plaque for me." The shopkeeper was quite straightforward and replied, "Young lady, how about this? I’ll find another carpenter for you? To be honest, this artisan isn’t local to the Golden Triangle. She lives in the Desert. We make trips every so often to stock up, and it seems she only makes these small wooden dolls, nothing else." Dong Huiying looked around the shop and noticed many identical wooden figurines, almost all carved from white wood. She inquired further, "The Desert? Coincidentally, I have a relative heading to the Desert too. I truly admire this artisan’s skill; could you perhaps give me her address? I would like to pay her a visit. If the artisan is unwilling, I can then give up." With that, she slipped some silver into the shopkeeper’s hand, who, after pondering for a moment, quickly disclosed an address. Dong Huiying carefully noted it down before then bidding farewell to the shopkeeper of the wood carving shop. When she returned to Weiyuan Hall, Lao Si was still asleep. They had talked until dawn and only then gone to bed. She sat by the bed, gazing at Lao Si’s face. By Dayuan’s standards of beauty, Lao Si’s rugged and handsome features were unappealing and unpopular. Yet his formidable appearance, coupled with his tall and sturdy stature, often made people mistake him for a man from Dajin. She gently stroked his face, a smile curling at her lips. "Mistress, the lady named Hong would like to see you," Tie Yi announced from outside the door, speaking through it. It must be Hong Xiangjun. After capturing Wang San that day, she had handed him over to Hong Xiangjun for handling. "I’ll be right there!" When Dong Huiying arrived at the parlor, she saw that the gloom on Hong Xiangjun’s brows had lessened significantly. She considered this and understood. It seems Wang San must have met a grim fate, right?