In truth, when Du Wei was born, no one dared to call him a fool. In fact, there was a time when he was even regarded as a potential genius of the Roland family.
Three years ago, when Du Wei emerged from the Countess's womb and entered the world, the midwives who attended the birth were greatly startled.
For he neither cried nor wailed, and never required comforting from adults. His routine was more regular than that of any grown person: he woke at the proper hour, ate at the proper time, and went to sleep at the appropriate moment. However, aside from the act of eating, this child rarely uttered a sound; his daily occupation seemed solely to consist of staring... staring with wide, vacant eyes.
He even rarely wet his bed. He had learned to gently ring the bell beside his cradle, and over time, whenever the sound of the bell echoed, the maids would rush to bring him his potty. Such behavior led the entire household to praise him as an exceptionally clever young master, one destined to be the genius of the Roland family.
Sadly, the term "genius" lost its luster after only six months, for the young master could not speak.
Children of his age were already babbling by the time they reached his years, uttering simple words like "father," "mother," or "potty." But Du Wei's mouth seemed cursed with an enchantment, as though sealed by an extraordinarily powerful mage. No matter how the Countess tried to teach him to speak, her efforts bore no fruit; not a single sound emerged from his lips.
Even a naturally mute child could at least hum, yet this young master remained as silent as a stone. Whether cold, hot, hungry, or in need of relief, his only response was to ring his bell.
When Du Wei turned three, his lips still remained sealed. The Countess sought out countless skilled physicians and even summoned renowned magicians to examine her son, suspecting some magical curse might be at play. But all their efforts were in vain. In the end, even the most optimistic Countess could not help but sigh in sorrow. It seemed that her son was indeed a fool.
Fortunately, the three-year-old Du Wei did learn to walk. Although still unsteady, he showed no significant delay compared to his peers.
But such a child, who neither cried nor smiled, nor spoke, merely stared into space all day long. Beyond the word "fool," there seemed to be no other explanation.
Then, about a month ago, during a thunderstorm, with lightning crackling and rain pouring down in torrents, even the Grand Canal outside the Imperial Capital was reported to have nearly flooded. Meanwhile, something momentous occurred within the Count's residence.
The young master, while his caretakers were distracted, managed to crawl out of his room. There, in the rain-soaked courtyard, he stood, staring up at the sky. Amidst the thunderous roars and flashing bolts, the child seemed unfazed—perhaps, as a fool, he did not comprehend fear. Instead, he clenched his tiny fists and suddenly let out a loud, wild cry towards the heavens!The young master, who hadn't uttered a word in three years, now stood in the rain, screaming madly at each bolt of lightning, letting the rain pour over his small frame. By the time the servants noticed him, he was drenched, trembling from head to toe, his face as pale as death, lips bitten to a shade of purple.
When the Countess arrived and beheld the scene, she fainted on the spot. The household, in a frenzy, carried both the young master and the Countess indoors. Though she soon regained consciousness, she clung to her unconscious son and wept bitterly. The doctor worked in a panic, administering various potions, while two magicians performed light healing spells to stabilize the child.
Yet the boy's body continued to grow colder. Desperate, the Countess hurried to the Temple of the Goddess of Light in the capital, pleading for a high priest in black robes to bless her son. That night, she knelt before the goddess's statue, praying ceaselessly until dawn.
The next day, her prayers were answered—the child's body finally regained warmth, and his life was spared. However, he remained unconscious for another day and night. During this time, the Countess, without rest or nourishment, held him in her arms. By the second day, her once-beautiful face had become haggard with worry. Just then, in his sleep, young Du Wei suddenly spoke, his eyes shut, as if murmuring in a dream. The sounds were incomprehensible, mere fragments and babbling, like the nonsensical murmurs of an infant who hadn't yet learned speech.
Yet, the Countess, overjoyed, listened intently to his incoherent words. After a while, she discerned a single sound that stood out. Turning to the servants who stood by in fearful silence, she softly asked, "Is there a maid in charge of the young master named Mad?"
The servants exchanged puzzled glances until one of them, braving a response, said, "My lady, among the attendants caring for the young master, none are named Mad…"
After a thorough search, they found a stable boy named Mad. He was promptly summoned before the Countess.
"My son has called your name in his sleep, Mad… Though I don't know why, I believe this to be a divine sign from the Goddess of Light. From now on, you are relieved of your duties in the stables and shall serve by the young master's side."
Mad was ecstatic, instantly elevated from a lowly stable hand to a personal attendant of the young master, with a bright future unfolding before him.
As for young Du Wei, he was blissfully unaware of the stir he had caused by his spontaneous outburst in the rain, nearly costing him his life. Nor did he realize that his sleepy murmurs of "d*mn" had brought fortune to another.
The illness left him frail, his recovery stretching over a full month. Only then did a hint of color return to his small face.
However, as before, the young master remained silent. Since regaining consciousness, he had not uttered a single sound, not even acknowledging the presence of the attendant Mad, who he had supposedly "chosen" in his sleep. Each day passed in a trance, as he gazed blankly ahead.
The only difference was that, when the maids spoke of his illness, recounting how the Countess had stayed by his side for two sleepless days and nights and had knelt in prayer before the goddess for an entire night… each time his gaze drifted toward his mother, it held a faint glimmer of warmth.