The teacup in his hand let out a sharp clack.

Li Jingyun came back to himself, calmly setting it aside, then looked up. “Escorted where?”

Liu Chenghe spread his hands. “This is your household—how would I know that much? But she didn’t make a fuss or cause trouble, so maybe General Li just had a word sent to her.”

Yin Huayue was a steward, the Madam’s favorite in the main courtyard. If his father had truly just wanted to send word, would he have had her escorted away?

Li Jingyun felt a flicker of irritation, his fingers absently rubbing the armrest of the chair. He seemed about to rise, but whatever thought crossed his mind, he sat back down instead.

Wen Guzhi studied him with interest, then suddenly turned to ask Liu Chenghe, “What did this maidservant look like?”

“I just caught a glance, didn’t see her face clearly.” Liu Chenghe rubbed his chin. “But her waist was genuinely slender, wrapped in a pale blue sash, like a soft willow leaf.”

He gestured with his hands. “I’d guess one hand could nearly wrap all the way around.”

Li Jingyun turned his head, staring at him expressionlessly.

“…”

An inexplicable chill ran down his spine. Liu Chenghe rubbed his hands together, puzzled. “It’s already the third month—why’s it still so cold?”

Wen Guzhi sighed, glancing between him and the Third Young Master, then decided to give Liu Chenghe a hand. “Something’s wrong with him. No need for Third Young Master to bother arguing.”

“What’s wrong with Third Young Master?” Xu Changyi looked back and forth, tapping his own forehead. “Who’s got something wrong here?”

Wen Guzhi gave him a smile. “No one. Since it’s still early, why don’t we go stroll along Luohua Street? We won’t disturb Third Young Master’s rest.”

“We’re leaving already?” Liu Chenghe was astonished. “Didn’t you say we were here to discuss something with Third Young Master, and were going to Qifeng Tower too?”

“Another day.” Wen Guzhi grabbed the two of them, pressing their heads down in a bow. “Farewell.”

Bow completed, they fled without a trace.

The once-noisy East Courtyard returned to its former quiet.

Li Jingyun sat for a good while, then flicked his robe’s hem irritably.

She was just a maidservant. With her gone, no one would stop him from leaving the estate—that was actually convenient. Besides, she had Madam Zhuang looking out for her; even at the steward’s院, plenty of people would go easy on her.

He wasn’t going to worry about it.

The sun tilted westward. No lamps were lit in the Steward’s Courtyard.

Huayue knelt in the dark room, posture elegant, smile soft—if not for the blood dripping steadily from her forehead, Nanny Xun might have thought she’d come for tea.

“There’s nothing left to discuss.” Nanny Xun looked away. “You never make mistakes on ordinary days, but when you do, it’s a big one. Even the Madam can’t protect you from this.”

Blood reached the tip of her nose. Huayue wiped it away with her hand, laughing softly. “There’s always a way to survive, one way or another.”

“What way could there possibly be? That Miss Han was raised in the Princess Imperial’s arms. If she can’t tolerate you, the entire capital won’t tolerate you.”

Such absolute power? Huayue’s eyes curved. “Then how about I go beg her for mercy?”

“If you had that chance, would you still be here?” Nanny Xun looked at her, a little unable to bear it. “Stop struggling. Better to just take it quickly.”

Holding up eight fingers, Huayue let her eyes droop, smile tinged with grievance. “Twenty lashes, I could grit my teeth and take it. But eighty lashes—even a strong, healthy servant would lose their life. Nanny, if you want me to take it, how am I supposed to take it? This life of mine is precious. I can’t bear to throw it away.”

Moonlight streamed through the high window, falling on her small face, pale as paper.

Nanny Xun looked somewhat surprised. “All these years, you’ve taken your share of beatings, and you never once made a sound. Everyone in this courtyard thinks you don’t feel pain.”

“Who doesn’t feel pain…” Huayue’s mouth pulled into a wry line, her voice trailing off into a sigh.

From childhood she had always feared pain the most—the slightest bump or scrape and she’d wail on her bed until the sky turned dark, crying until she got whatever she wanted brought right to her.

But later, she was beaten so much, so often, that the pain exceeded what tears could reach, and so it stopped mattering.

No one came to comfort her. She had to learn to survive on her own.

Tilting her head to think, Huayue pulled the bamboo-and-jade-leaf hairpin from her hair and offered it up. “The Princess Imperial only specified eighty lashes—she didn’t say where, or how.”

“Nanny, do me this favor—I’ll take twenty lashes today, and pay back the rest later. What do you say?”

In all her years at the Steward’s Courtyard, Yin Huayue was the first person to ever bargain with her. Nanny Xun looked down at her, finding it both amusing and a little pitiable.

In this Liang dynasty, a servant’s life was worth the least of all—a master’s single moment of displeasure could end it, and not even a cry of injustice would be allowed. Most who ended up in this place had hearts already turned to ash, driven mad or hysterical.

But Yin Huayue wasn’t like that. She wanted to live—she didn’t need dignity, didn’t need to be spared. Just leave her a single breath, and that would be enough.

Nanny Xun meant to refuse. But it seemed Huayue had guessed what she was about to say—her eyes looked up, pale brown irises full of earnest plea, brows soft and lowered, the hand holding the jade-leaf hairpin trembling slightly.

No one had ever seen Steward Yin like this—like a rigid, upright sword suddenly melted into molten iron, every splattering drop scalding enough to make the heart ache.

After a long silence, Nanny Xun raised her hand. Her sleeve swept past, and the jade-leaf hairpin disappeared into it.

“Thank you, Nanny.” Huayue’s brow relaxed, and she bowed respectfully, touching her forehead to the ground.

A night passed, and nothing seemed to have happened at the General’s residence. Servants came and went in order, the flowers in the courtyard still bloomed as beautifully as ever.

The young master’s morning temper was as bad as always. He woke and, in a foul mood all over, smashed everything within reach.

Badou entered, not daring to speak much, set down the washbasin, and turned to flee.

“Stop.”

His body stiffened. Badou forced out a smile. “Young Master, it’s about time to get up. The General has arrangements—you’re to go to the training grounds today.”

Wiping his face irritably, Li Jingyun looked up. “Where’s everyone else in the courtyard?”

“Reporting to Young Master, Wuche is sweeping. The other two went to report to the main courtyard.”

And the other one?

Li Jingyun stared displeased at the foot of his bed—usually, someone would be kneeling there.

Badou’s legs trembled, and he pressed against the door, at a loss, watching him.

Li Jingyun swept a glance over him, growing even more irritated. “What are you afraid of?”

“Repor—reporting to Young Master, this servant isn’t afraid.”

By the look of things, he was practically about to wet himself, and he said he wasn’t afraid? Li Jingyun pressed his tongue against his teeth, pulled on his robe, and got out of bed, hauling Badou up by the collar. “This lord thinks you need some lessons. Come with me to the Steward’s Courtyard.”

This time Badou truly did wet himself, legs going weak. “Young Master… Young Master, spare me!”

The young master paid no attention to his pleading at all, dragging him straight out, complaining as he walked. “You’re a grown man, and you’re afraid of the Steward’s Courtyard?”

“Young Master, there isn’t a servant in any household in the whole capital who isn’t afraid of the Steward’s Courtyard.” Badou was aggrieved, trembling all over. “The punishments in there are severe.”

“No backbone. Steward Yin took a whipping last time and came out just fine.”

Badou’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head repeatedly. “Who said she was fine? Young Master didn’t see it—Steward Yin’s back was swollen for days, so painful she couldn’t even bend over. Later that night she ran a high fever—if this servant hadn’t found her in time, she might not have made it.”

Li Jingyun’s steps halted, brow furrowing. “What nonsense are you spouting? Why didn’t I see any of this?”

Badou’s eyes welled with tears. “You were asleep, Young Master—what would you have seen?”

“…”

He looked away and quickened his pace.

Having not slept all night, Nanny Xun was just about to go rest when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young master dragging in another servant.

“Oh my.” She hurried to greet him. “Young Master, here again in person?”

Li Jingyun tossed Badou down, glancing around indifferently. “This servant’s too timid. Sending him over to toughen up, so he stops shaking in front of me all the time—it’s annoying to watch.”

“This…” Nanny Xun looked troubled. “What did he do wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“…Our Steward’s Courtyard has rules. We don’t punish servants who haven’t erred.”

Walking a couple steps aside, Li Jingyun clicked his tongue. “Yin Huayue didn’t err either, and yet she was taken away and hasn’t been seen since.”

Nanny Xun froze for a moment, then glanced discreetly—right at the seven-bamboo-ring jade pendant hanging at his waist.

Everyone lingering in this courtyard was clever. Nanny Xun pinched the jade-leaf hairpin tucked in her sleeve, offering an ingratiating smile. “This servant hasn’t seen Steward Yin.”

She said this, yet her body angled slightly, glancing back toward the dark room.

Li Jingyun had only come to try his luck, not expecting she’d actually be here. He looked at the nanny in surprise, coughing lightly. “Whatever the case, she’s still someone from the East Courtyard. If she’s being charged with something, I should at least be told, so I don’t wake up one morning missing someone to fetch my water and feel put out.”

With that, he stepped toward the dark room.

“Young Master.” Nanny Xun made a show of blocking him. “Even as master of this household, you cannot break the rules of the Steward’s Courtyard.”

“What rules?” Li Jingyun laughed lightly, sidestepping her with an air of nonchalance. “Am I obstructing your carrying out of punishment, or obstructing you from reporting upward?”

At these words, the servants nearby all startled, lowering their heads one after another.

Seeing this, Li Jingyun’s smile grew even lazier. “Just having a look, that’s all. Why so nervous?”

The words had barely left his mouth when he pushed against the lock on the dark room’s door. With a clatter, it opened a crack.

Light poured in, and it landed precisely on a curled, huddled figure.

Black hair spread loose, matted with clotted blood, tracing several harrowing streaks across the dust- and dry-grass-covered floor. The clothes on that figure were the gray squirrel-fur robe he’d seen the day before, now soaked with vivid blood wherever the eye landed, blooming like the most unrestrained begonia, garish and vivid.

And the face half-buried against the knees, from jaw to earlobe, was pale enough to blend with the light itself.

Li Jingyun stopped smiling.

He touched the lock again, making a clattering noise, but the figure inside remained curled and still, without any response.