When Duwei Rowling was first born, no one dared to call him an idiot. In fact, he was once considered a potential genius of the Rowling family.
Three years ago, when Duwei emerged from the Countess's womb into this world, he gave the attending midwives a tremendous fright.
He neither cried nor made a sound. He didn't even need adults to soothe him. His daily routine was more regular than that of an adult. He woke on time, opened his mouth to eat on time, and slept on time. But aside from opening his mouth for food, the child rarely made any noise. The only thing he did all day was stare blankly... gazing vacantly with wide eyes.
He even rarely wet his bed. Because he learned to gently jingle the bell beside his cradle. Over time, whenever the bell sounded from Young Master Duwei's cradle, the maids would rush to bring him the chamber pot. This behavior earned unanimous praise from the entire household; everyone agreed the young master was clever from such a young age and would surely become the Rowling family's genius.
Unfortunately, the luster of the word "genius" faded from his head in less than half a year... because he wouldn't speak.
Children his age, at that stage, could already babble or utter simple sounds like "papa," "mama," or "pee-pee." But Young Master Duwei's mouth seemed sealed by a Supreme Mage's curse. No matter how tirelessly the Countess taught him, coaxing until her mouth was parched, not a single syllable escaped his lips.
Even a born mute could at least grunt or whimper. But this young master was as silent as a stone. Whether cold, hot, hungry, or needing to relieve himself, he would only jingle the bell.
By the time he was three, the young master still hadn't opened his "golden mouth." The Countess consulted countless skilled physicians and even invited several renowned mages to see if her son was afflicted by some magical curse. All efforts proved fruitless. Finally, even the most optimistic Countess couldn't help but sigh sorrowfully; it seemed her son was an idiot.
Fortunately, three-year-old Young Master Duwei did learn to walk. Though still toddling, this was no different from his peers.
But such a small child, who didn't cry, laugh, or speak, spending all day staring blankly... besides "idiot," there really was no other explanation.
Then, about a month ago, a sudden violent storm struck. Thunder roared, lightning flashed, and rain poured down like a waterfall. The Grand Canal outside the Imperial Capital nearly burst its banks. And within the Earl's mansion, a major incident occurred.
This Young Master Duwei, while his nursemaid was distracted, somehow crawled out of his room and stood foolishly in the courtyard in the rain, staring up at the heavens. Under the flashing lightning and deafening thunder, the child showed not a trace of fear—perhaps an idiot simply didn't understand fear.
Instead, he clenched his tiny fists and suddenly began to wail at the sky!
The young master, who hadn't made a sound in three years, stood in the rain, screaming madly at the bolts of lightning. He let the rain drench his small body. When the servants finally found him, he was dripping wet from head to toe, shivering with cold, his face deathly pale, his lips bitten purple.
The Countess, rushing to the scene upon hearing the news, fainted on the spot. Servants scrambled to carry the young master and the Countess back inside. The Countess awoke quickly and wept bitterly while holding her unconscious son. Physicians were summoned and bustled about frantically for hours, administering various potions. Two mages were also called to stand guard, using light-healing spells on the boy for a long time.
Yet, the child's body grew colder and colder. The Countess, seeming almost maddened, then ran to the Temple of the Goddess of Light in the Imperial Capital and pleaded for a Black-Robed Prelate to personally perform a Goddess Blessing spell on her son. Meanwhile, the Countess knelt before the Goddess's statue in the temple for an entire night, praying ceaselessly for her son.
By the next day, the child's body finally warmed. His little life was spared. But he remained unconscious for another day and night. Throughout his coma, the Countess held her son, barely eating or sleeping. After two days, the Countess's delicate features were greatly wan and exhausted. Suddenly, the sleeping Young Master Duwei spoke. Eyes closed, as if in delirium, he uttered a few syllables from his mouth. Everyone listened hard but couldn't understand the meaning. Presumably, the idiot young master, not yet having learned to speak, was merely uttering meaningless infantile babble.
But the Countess wept tears of joy. She listened intently by his bedside for a long while and finally grasped a clue. Turning to the servants who stood as silent as cicadas in winter, she asked softly, "Among the servants who usually care for the young master, is there one named Ma De?"
The servants exchanged puzzled glances for a long time. Finally, one brave soul stepped forward and bowed, "My Lady, it seems... among those responsible for the young master's daily care... there is no one named Ma De..."
After searching the entire Earl's mansion, they finally found a stablehand in the stables named Ma De. He was immediately summoned before the Countess.
"My son called your name in his sleep... 'Ma De'... Though I don't know why he called for you, I believe this must be divine revelation granted by the Goddess of Light. By the Goddess's grace, from today onwards, you no longer need to tend horses. You are transferred to serve beside the young master."
Ma De was overjoyed. Suddenly elevated from the lowest stablehand to a personal attendant of the Earl's young master, he felt a bright future beckoning to him!
Meanwhile, Duwei, asleep, had no idea that his momentary outburst of rage—running outside to yell at the heavens and getting soaked in the rain—had nearly cost him his life. Nor did he know that simply because he muttered "damn it" ('ma de' in Chinese) while unconscious, someone had received a tremendous boon.
Young Master Duwei's severe illness lasted a full month. His already frail child's body grew even weaker. Only after a month did a hint of color finally return to his little face.
However, as before, the young master still did not speak. Since waking, he hadn't uttered half a syllable. Even the servant named "Ma De," whom he had "selected" in his sleep, received no special favor from the young master. Every day, he did nothing but stare blankly. The only difference was this: when the maids occasionally spoke of his serious illness—how the Countess had held him sleepless for two days and nights, and knelt an entire night before the Goddess's statue...
Afterwards, when the Countess visited her son daily, she noticed that the child's formerly vacant eyes held a flicker of warmth when they turned towards her.