Therefore, it all made sense.
No wonder Shang Ji had no desire to return home. With so many relatives crowding the mansion, who could feel at ease? Yet They had lived here for decades, brazenly unbothered, and had no intention of leaving.
Xing Zhao had long grown accustomed to this reality. Still, even he could not have anticipated hearing such news in his lifetime, and surprise flashed across his face.
Shang Zhiping lingered nearby, feeling a little embarrassed. Though he held no fondness for those particular relatives, they bore the Shang name. Being subtly mocked by his own cousin left him uncertain how to respond.
Not long after, a sudden howl pierced the air.
“Ouch! Who struck me?”
It was, of course, the Prince of Fu, who bent over, clutching his calf in pain, his face flushed with anger.
“Who did this? Step forward immediately!”
His illustrious reputation as a prince was well-known throughout Sui’an City. Naturally, everyone’s curiosity was piqued. Who could be so bold—or reckless—as to provoke such a feared figure at a banquet?
Xing Zhao feigned innocence, scanning the crowd with curiosity. Shang Ji, however, noticed the faint trace of ash between Xing Zhao’s fingers. The culprit had been revealed. He leaned closer and whispered a warning:
“Wipe your hands.”
Xing Zhao shot him a sly grin. As always, nothing escaped his cousin’s discerning eye. Shang Zhiping, naïve and inexperienced, remained oblivious.
Xing Zhao discreetly wiped the ash from his fingers, preparing to enjoy the impending spectacle of Prince Fu’s temper. But before he could revel in it, the sound of rushing footsteps echoed nearby.
“Grandfather! Grandfather, look how accurate my slingshot is!”
The voice belonged to Shang Zhihe, clutching the slingshot he cherished. Close behind him was his uncle, Wei Jiaheng. Both wore radiant smiles, oblivious to the storm about to unfold.
Unaware of the danger, Shang Zhihe had no idea that hitting Prince Fu’s leg—accidental or otherwise—would provoke such fury. Shizi Fu, already in a foul mood for being forced to attend a birthday celebration, saw the slingshot and exploded.
“So it was you! A mere child dares to disrespect this shizi!” he roared, striding forward. His stature—fat, tall, and fully grown—amplified the force behind his wrath.
Before anyone could react, Shang Zhihe screamed. The prince mansion’s shizi kick struck with terrible precision, breaking the boy’s leg. What had been intended as a reprimand became a grievous injury for him .
Xing Zhao touched his nose lightly, with a smirk on his face. He had only meant to play a harmless trick, but now Shang Zhihe bore the blame entirely. Still he felt no guilt, for he held neither Fu Shizi nor Shang Zhihe in any regard.
“He’er…”
Shang Yukuan and the Wei family hurried forward, their faces etched with alarm. They carefully lifted Shang Zhihe, who writhed in agony on the ground , sweat pouring down his face, unable to speak coherently.
“What are you doing, Your Highness? How can you strike someone without knowing the truth?” Wei Mingxian’s voice trembled with fury. Seeing his beloved grandson in pain, he longed to strike Fu Shizi himself. Though the prince was his nephew, familial ties mattered little in that moment.
Prince Fu , with his pride stung, hastened over. “En’er, restrain yourself!” he called repeatedly, before addressing Deputy Commander Wei. “Take the boy inside immediately! Send for the imperial physician at once to care for him!”
Shang Yukuan, anxious and unsure, could do little beyond pacing and stamping his feet. Though old, Wei Taiwei’s temper was not diminished. He approached Fu Shizi with measured patience.
“Your Highness,” Taiwei began, “you were overly harsh. He’er is your cousin. Furthermore, you were injured first. How could such a boy have so accurately struck your leg? You must be mistaken.”
Fu shizi , realizing the error of his actions, felt panic creep across his features. Yet thinking of his royal status, he forced himself to speak with dignity:
“Master Taiwei, remember your duty as ministers of the Xie family. Shang Zhihe may be my cousin, but he is only the grandson of a minister. My father and I attended today’s celebration to honor the Duke’s Mansion. Yet the moment I entered, a villain assaulted me. How am I to maintain discipline among my subordinates with such laxity?”
He continued, his voice rising: “Even if Shang Zhihe is innocent, what of it? Let the people of the Duke’s Mansion witness the consequences of disrespecting royalty.”
Taiwei Wei could not suppress a sneer at the prince’s words. Just as he prepared to respond, Shang Ji approached, his steps steady and commanding.
Had this been a private matter, he might have enjoyed watching the Wei family quarrel. But with so many witnesses, the Duke’s Mansion could not afford humiliation. He spoke firmly:
“Your Highness, the Duke’s Mansion has graciously invited you to celebrate my father’s birthday. If anger burdens you, vent it at home. Why bring discord to this household? Whom do you despise?”
Fu shizi, though still capable of force, paled at the sight of Shang Ji. The latter’s reputation had been forged in blood and battle, a presence honed amidst corpses and war. Even the proud Fu shizi faltered. He dared not provoke him further, remaining silent, face pale and taut with fear.
Feeling pity for his son, Prince Fu attempted to smooth over the incident. “General Shang, we are family. Why escalate this? En’er’s temper has been spoiled by me and the princess; it was unintentional. I have summoned the imperial physician—He’er’s leg will be healed soon .”
Shang Ji, satisfied that the Duke’s Mansion’s honor had been preserved, ceased pressing the matter. Turning, he addressed Xing Zhao and Shang Zhiping, as well as the guests gathered to celebrate the birthday:
“Please forgive this brief disruption. The table is prepared; I invite you to take your seats.”