A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

In early December, the morning air in the capital was bitterly cold.

Before dawn, there was already movement in the east wing.

Three-year-old Wei Xuan was wearing an ill-fitting black outfit and was practicing a horse stance.

Her little face was red from the cold, and the white breath she exhaled condensed into a ball in front of her eyes.

He barely reached Nie Yinniang's waist, standing crookedly, his two short legs trembling like leaves, but his eyes were very serious.

Nie Yinniang stood in front of him, also dressed in black, holding a thin bamboo stick in her hand. She didn't say anything, just looked at him.

She neither corrected Wei Xuan's posture nor urged him on. It's normal for him to be unsteady in a horse stance, and it's normal for his legs to tremble.

She didn't want him to have perfect posture; she wanted to know how long he could stand there.

Under the eaves, Tuoba Yue, wrapped in a thick fox fur coat, held a hand warmer in her hands, looking at her with eyes full of heartache.

"Isn't Seventh Sister being a bit too strict? Xuan'er is only three years old." She lowered her voice and said to Liu Jingshuang, who was also watching beside her.

Liu Jingshuang held Wei Heng, who was just five months old, in her arms. The little guy was sleeping soundly, with only his rosy cheeks showing.

Upon hearing this, she withdrew her gaze from Wei Xuan in the courtyard and glanced indifferently at Tuoba Yue.

"If the children of the Wei family don't learn to endure hardship, they'll easily become arrogant when they grow up."

Tuoba Yue opened her mouth, wanting to say that Wei Xuan was still young, but when she met Liu Jingshuang's cold gaze, she swallowed her words back.

She knew Liu Jingshuang was right. The Wei family was no ordinary family, and Wei Xuan was no ordinary child.

His father is the emperor, and what he will face in the future is far colder than the winter wind.

"Self-preservation is a minor matter."

Liu Jingshuang's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a needle piercing Tuoba Yue's heart: "Let him know the pain, the fatigue, and that nothing in this world can be easily obtained. That's the important thing."

Tuoba Yue didn't say anything more, but just hugged the hand warmer in her hands even tighter.

In the courtyard, Wei Xuan's legs were shaking more and more violently, and it looked like he was about to give up.

He secretly glanced at Nie Yinniang, only to find her still expressionless. He gritted his teeth and looked away.

Just then, he saw his younger brother under the eaves.

Wei Heng had woken up at some point and was being held upright in Liu Jingshuang's arms. He opened his big, dark eyes and looked curiously at the courtyard.

The little guy had only recently learned to walk and was still unsteady on his feet. He was holding onto a pillar, standing shakily with his little mouth slightly open, as if he were looking at something new and interesting.

Wei Xuan's body tensed up instantly.

He took a deep breath, and his back, which was on the verge of collapsing, straightened up a bit more.

The legs that were shaking so badly miraculously stabilized somewhat.

My younger brother is watching.

We can't let him see us make a fool of ourselves.

Nie Yinniang noticed this detail.

Her gaze shifted from Wei Xuan to Wei Heng under the corridor, then back to Wei Xuan's flushed face.

She walked up to Tuoba Yue and said something in a voice only the two of them could hear.

"This kid is proud. He practices better when someone's watching than when no one's watching."

Tuoba Yue was stunned for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh.

"Like his father," she muttered to herself.

Yes, he looks like his father.

Wei Zhao may appear gentle and refined, but deep down he is more arrogant than anyone else.

Back then, at the funeral hall, he was scolded by so many aristocratic relatives, but he didn't even flinch and could still smile.

Wei Xuan's temperament is truly inherited from his father.

Days passed by, and before we knew it, it was mid-December.

Wei Xuan could now stand firmly in a horse stance for a quarter of an hour without falling. Nie Yinniang began to teach him some simple self-defense techniques.

"If someone grabs your wrist, don't try to overpower them."

Nie Yinniang grabbed Wei Xuan's wrist and demonstrated, "Sink down, rotate your wrist, and break free from the weakest point between his thumb and forefinger."

She didn't use much force, but Wei Xuan still stumbled from the pull.

"Again."

Wei Xuan got up and, imitating her, tried to spin around with all his might.

But he was small and weak, and he failed several times.

Tuoba Yue watched from the side, her heart pounding again.

"Seventh Sister, isn't this a bit too early? He can't even tell left from right yet."

Nie Yinniang didn't even raise her head, but simply released Wei Xuan's hand, letting him try again on his own.

"It's not early." Her voice was flat, revealing no emotion. "When I was five, I had already started learning how to escape."

Tuoba Yue's smile froze.

Looking at Nie Yinniang's pale profile in the winter sunlight, and at her calm, still eyes, she suddenly found herself speechless.

Yes, she forgot.

Nie Yinniang is not one of them.

She didn't have a distinguished family background or a marriage alliance. She crawled out of the Seven Kill Tower, a place teeming with corpses and blood, and survived to this day not because of luck, but because of her own abilities.

I learned to escape at the age of five.

Tuoba Yue's heart felt as if it had been violently clenched by something.

Looking again at her son in the yard, still struggling with her wrist, she suddenly felt that letting him know the hardships of the world early on might not be a bad thing.

She silently stepped aside and said nothing more.

Ten days later, it was the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, the Little New Year, when people would offer sacrifices to the Kitchen God.

The palace already had a festive atmosphere, with red lanterns hanging everywhere.

Wei Xuan was still practicing his boxing.

Nie Yinniang taught him the simplest punch, step by step, which was very boring.

Wei Xuan was getting a little annoyed with his practice. He tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground with a "plop".

His knee slammed into the bluestone slab, and the pain brought tears to his eyes.

He sat on the ground, his lips pursed, about to burst into tears, when he looked up and saw Nie Yinniang standing in front of him.

Nie Yinniang remained the same, neither helping him nor speaking, simply looking down at him from her high position.

Wei Xuan's crying sound was stuck in his throat.

He looked at Nie Yinniang, then looked down at his scraped and bleeding knees, sniffed, and forced back his tears.

He scrambled to his feet, dusted himself off, and straightened his little chest.

Nie Yinniang squatted down, her gaze level with his. She reached out and gently touched the wound on his knee to make sure the bone wasn't broken.

"Not bad." She withdrew her hand and patted Wei Xuan on the shoulder: "Let's continue tomorrow."

"Yes!" Wei Xuan nodded vigorously, his voice loud.

That evening, Tuoba Yue was heartbroken and personally brought a basin of warm water to clean Wei Xuan's wounds.

"Does it hurt, my little darling?" She held a cotton cloth and carefully wiped away the bloodstains, muttering to herself.

Wei Xuan sat on the edge of the bed, swinging his short legs back and forth, a smug look on his face.

"It doesn't hurt!" he shouted, his neck stiff.

Tuoba Yue was both amused and annoyed, but she softened her movements even more. She took out the wound medicine Xie Daoning had given her and carefully applied it to his wound.

"You said it didn't hurt, but your body was tense when I was wiping it for you just now."

"Seventh Sister said, 'If you fall down and don't cry, you're a hero.'"

Wei Xuan looked at Tuoba Yue with a serious expression and said, word by word.

Tuoba Yue paused for a moment as she applied the medicine to him.

She looked up at her son's little face, which resembled Wei Zhao's and was filled with the desire to "praise me," and felt a mix of sadness and tenderness in her heart.

She didn't say anything more, but simply bent down and gently kissed her son's forehead.