Chapter 3 - Who are you?

[Chapter 3 - Who are you?]

One Minster snickered with amusement, and he said, "Ho, you're getting slyer as you age, Lord Chen." He was again surprised at how the Prime Minister had managed to convince the King to lower the taxes, even though they had just recovered from a famine and the royal treasury was in need of funds.

"Am I smelling jealousy, Minister Han?" the Prime Minister mused, earning a scoff. The minister dismissed the taunt, looking away with anger. Few of them smiled at his response. Lord Chen had responded to the statement but did not answer.

He had the gift of gab.

In a place where people circled around his seat like hawks watching for any sign of a weak moment to devour him like rabid scavengers, Chen Ming could not make mistakes.

Several people wanted him to drop dead. Powerful people. But the fact that he led his enemies by the neck and did not lose proved he was a capable minister of the Wei Kingdom. And he did not intend to die soon, not when he had a daughter and son to look after.

"My Lord," his aide called in a nervous tone. His palm sweated, his face had turned a shade paler.

"Miss, she-" he began, catching Prime Minister Chen's attention. What had happened to his daughter? He stood up from his seat. Thankfully, the royal court had ended. Now only the ministers remained behind for discussion in the outer room. He could leave as he pleased since he was in a position to do so.

"Excuse me." The prime minister rose and curtsied, walking out of the group of ministers. It was more important to care for his daughter.

"Speak."

"Miss has locked herself for hours. Mei Yi informed Miss woke up asking things like; who she is and where she is," sweat trickled down the aide's forehead while the words left his mouth. Seeing the anger brimming in his Lord's eyes, the aide's knees trembled.

Everyone knew Lord Chen loved to spoil his daughter. Hurt her, and your entire family would suffer.

"Leave for the mansion," he growled out, brushing his sleeves. The Prime Minister, like usual, did not pause to appreciate the beauty of the flowers or observe the serene sky. His pace increased but not enough to make passersby feel he was in a hurry.

—

"Greetings, Lord," the servants bowed.

"Master," Mei Yi called out in alarm. It had been over five hours. Her miss had left her room. No sound also came from the room. Her worry had escalated. She had not left the door by a foot.

Prime Minister Chen narrowed his eyes.

"What's going on?" his only son Ping Bo walked out. Having just met his friends, he had just arrived. It was a good day. The soothing sound of Qin accompanied their game of Go. Yet, if they had listened closely, they could tell the young generation was talking about politics in a roundabout way.

"Miss has locked herself in," Mei Yi explained straight to the point. Ping Bo walked in front of the door. "What?" Ming Bo sputtered. "How long has it been?" he questioned.

"A little over 5 hours."

The Prime Minister clenched his fist, hearing the answer.

"Xiao Mei," he called out. (*Little sister)

Everyone knew Ping Ting liked to cling to his brother, who could never say no to her. All the servants expected a reply from her. He frowned when he heard no response.

He placed his ear near the wooden door, focusing on the sounds. His brow pinched together.

He knew his sister had been in a low state of mind ever since the third prince rejected her proposal. He did not mind her locking herself and throwing tantrums, only if it meant she would get over him.

"Ping Ting," he knocked on her door once again. His pupils dilated. His sister could have not? She was reckless enough to do that.

"Break the door," Prime Minister Chen looked at his son, who nodded at his words.

His hand gave out a faint green glow as he smashed down the door in one go.

*thud*

Ping Ting screamed when a loud sound rang through her ears- accelerating the already rampant pounding of her heart. She placed her hands on her ears, shifting deeper into the corner of the room like a lamb trying to protect itself.

Were they going to attack her now?

Was the gentle tone of that girl a façade?

She knew it. It was no good. Please, someone, tell her where she is and who she is.

She hugged her knees. Her reddened eyes trembled. Tears pooled underneath, threatening to fall like the pouring rain.

A scowl on the Prime Minister's face melted when he saw his daughter's defensive stance. She was trembling. He could hear the soft sniffles; they tugged his heart. She buried her face in her knees and covered her ears with her hands, blocking out any noise.

The rash action and booming sound had made her go into a panic attack.

His legs had a mind of their own. They strode straight towards the scared girl without wasting any time. His gaze was only focused on her as he knelt before her. When he saw Ping Bo approaching, he raised his hand, stopping him. More people can make her more afraid.

"Ting'er" he gave out her hand.

She peered at the man wide, her wide doe-eyes, tilting her head up enough to glance at him. Then she buried her face in her knees again like a turtle that slipped its neck into its shell.

Ping Ting didn't know how, but her heart calmed down instantaneously when she saw the man in his forties. Something about his voice was so soothing, she felt warm and secure. It felt weird.

He looked at her with an encouraging smile and calmly waited for her to hold her hand.

Ping Ting chewed her lips, contemplating. The man's face was so sweet that the gentle gleam of age without malice in his obsidian eyes made her consider trusting him. She hesitated but placed her hands in his.

It was necessary for him to be calm with her, seeing how lost and afraid her face looked. He could see the confusion dancing in her eyes. "Shush," he cooed. He pulled her closer to him and patted her head ever so gently.

"Who are you?"

Her feeble, hoarse voice was enough to shatter his heart. His little girl could not recognize him. His face distorted; he felt a sense of foreboding deep in his soul.

Her tears slid down the face as he wiped them away, ignoring the flinch when his finger touched her face. "I am your Father," he drawled out as if speaking to an infant.

"F-Father?" she repeated. Lord Chen nodded to her words; his smile slipped for a second. He looked at her so tenderly that for a moment she believed his words.

Ping Ting felt a stinging pain in her forehead when she addressed the man. She saw images flash before her eyes. A child holding on to him, laughing in his arms, tugging at his beard. A boy accompanying them, how he always brought sugar candy, hiding from the older man. It was their little secret.

Suddenly, Ping Ting saw dark. Her body went limp.

"Ping Ting."

"Xiao Mei."

The aggrieved shouts were the last things she heard.

"Call the physician."