It drizzled in the capital today. Li Jingyun, apparently too lazy to bother with an umbrella, finally stayed obediently in the East Courtyard. He sat on the tea couch brewing tea, and from the corner of his eye he noticed that person staring at him with rapt attention — an entire stick of incense’s time had passed, and she hadn’t moved at all.

His brow lifted slightly, and he shook the teapot in his hand. “Wanting me to pour you tea again?”

Huayue snapped out of it and shook her head, her gaze sweeping over his arm before she suddenly asked with concern, “Has your wound healed properly, young master?”

Li Jingyun waved it off. “That little scratch, it’s been so long, of course it’s healed.”

She nodded, as if she’d only asked in passing. As the color returned to her face, so did the cool composure of the former steward she used to be, and she lay quietly, as though cut off from the world.

Li Jingyun found this baffling but didn’t dwell on it, and went back to brewing his tea.

But before long, she spoke again. “Young master.”

Li Jingyun clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Can’t you say what you want to say all at once?”

Huayue pressed her lips together, seeming to hesitate, her eyes flickering a few times before she finally spoke. “Could you come stand by the bed?”

Since when did a servant order her master around like that? Li Jingyun was displeased, but out of curiosity he got up and walked over anyway.

“What do you want to—”

Before he could finish, his hand was seized. Without so much as a greeting, Yin Huayue pulled up his sleeve.

A chill ran across his arm and he shivered, glaring down in irritation, ready to scold her — but when his eyes fell, he saw Huayue staring intently at the scar on his arm.

Li Jingyun: “…”

The healed wound had become a centipede-shaped scar, hideous and frightening to look at. Any proper young lady should have been at least a little afraid. But this one acted like some kind of monster — not only did she not avoid it, she even reached out and touched it.

Her warm fingertips brushed over the scar, itchy and numbing.

Uncomfortable all over, Li Jingyun grumbled, “What’s so interesting to look at?”

Huayue withdrew her hand and said nothing, just lowered her eyes to stare blankly at the bed frame, showing no intention of answering. Her complexion didn’t look good, and she seemed a little unsteady.

He looked at her curiously, then swept his sleeve aside and sat down at the edge of the bed, reaching out to feel her forehead. “Is your wound acting up again?”

Lost in her own thoughts, Huayue hadn’t quite caught what he said and gave a vague murmur in response.

His expression eased somewhat, and Li Jingyun’s mouth twitched — he figured there was no need to argue with a patient. Let her look all she wanted; it wasn’t him who’d be frightened by it anyway.

“Master.” Badou burst through the door in a fluster. “A distinguished guest has arrived.”

Li Jingyun glanced at him sideways. “How distinguished?”

Badou choked, at a loss, counting on his fingers before pulling a mournful face. “Young master, this servant doesn’t know how to measure how distinguished Young Master Wen and Miss Han are.”

Wen Guzhi and Han Shuang? Li Jingyun was a little surprised — why would the two of them come to the General’s residence together?

There was a loud thud from the bed. He turned around, puzzled, to see Yin Huayue clutching her bruised knee, her face pale, eyes fixed tensely on the direction of the door.

If she’d had a tail like Wangfu’s, it would have been standing straight up by now.

Finding it amusing, he flicked her forehead. “What are you panicking about?”

“Young master, Miss Han—” Huayue’s voice went tight. “This servant should find somewhere to hide first.”

“Hide where? Can you even get out of bed?” Li Jingyun pressed her down with one hand and glanced at her back.

The wound that hadn’t fully healed had apparently been pulled just now, and a small patch of red had stained her white inner garment.

“Lie still for me and don’t move.” His expression darkened. “Move again, and I’ll send you straight to the Han household to be a maid.”

Huayue: “…”

Who threatened someone like that? For a moment she couldn’t tell if he meant well by her or was hoping she’d drop dead.

The distinguished guests soon entered. Li Jingyun lowered the curtain over the partition and turned to find himself face to face with Wen Guzhi’s amiable smile.

“Third Young Master looks well today.”

Li Jingyun studied him for a moment, then suddenly laughed lightly and reached out to straighten his collar. “Thanks to Physician Wen’s blessing.”

Wen Guzhi’s smile faltered a bit, and he glanced behind himself, shaking his head with an innocent look.

Not my doing, I was dragged into this too.

He stepped aside, and Han Shuang came forward gracefully, bowing to him. “Jingyun brother, I’ve been well. I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I came with Physician Wen to see for myself.”

Li Jingyun’s smile faded, and he spread his hands toward her. “I’ve been looked at. Nothing serious. You should head back early.”

Not an ounce of consideration spared.

Han Shuang looked a little wronged, but after a moment’s thought, she stepped forward half a pace anyway. “Earlier, Mother arranged for me to go with Jingyun brother to burn incense at the temple. I was delayed by something and made Jingyun brother wait so long. Tomorrow there’s a ceremony at the temple — I wonder if Jingyun brother could take me to see it?”

Li Jingyun handed Wen Guzhi a cup of tea, saying indifferently, “A maid in my quarters was badly wounded, only just pulled back from the brink. I likely won’t have time to go out these next few days — otherwise I’d come home to find a corpse to bury.”

Inside the room, Huayue overheard and drew in a sharp breath of cold air.

This man had no intention of doing anything good for her — he’d rather she just died!

If it were left unmentioned, given enough time, Miss Han might forget about her, an insignificant person, and let her live. But now it was the opposite — old grudges piled with new ones, and Miss Han would probably never forget to find a chance to shove her back into the steward’s quarters.

The atmosphere outside grew tense. Sensing something was off, Wen Guzhi quickly spoke up. “I came to change that little maid’s dressing. You two go ahead and talk.”

With that, he darted swiftly into the inner room.

Han Shuang stood before Li Jingyun, her lips bitten pale. “Is Jingyun brother blaming Shuang’er? If Shuang’er says she knew nothing of this matter, that it was someone else’s doing, would Jingyun brother believe it?”

“No.”

Tears welled in Han Shuang’s eyes and spilled down at once.

“It’s been so long, and you’re still blaming me.” She choked back a sob. “Whether it was five years ago or five years later, why won’t you trust me even once?”

Li Jingyun didn’t answer. In the outer room, only quiet weeping and sniffling could be heard, sounding especially heavy.

In the inner room, Huayue and Wen Guzhi stared at each other, wide-eyed.

She stared because she’d only been at the General’s residence for three years and had no idea what tangled history lay between these two five years ago — it sounded like there was quite a story. As for Wen Guzhi, he stared because…

“How did you recover so fast?” he clicked his tongue, saying quietly, “I thought it would take at least ten days to restore your vitality.”

Huayue thought it over, then cupped her hands toward him. “Thank you, physician, for your miraculous skill.”

“Oh, that’s not thanks to me, I just wrote the prescription.” He looked her up and down, stroking his chin mischievously. “You really are quite lovely — no wonder our Third Young Master treats you so differently, cares so much about you.”

Half of Huayue’s face darkened. “Cares?”

“Ah, one look and it’s clear you have no idea what’s been going on.” Wen Guzhi crooked a finger, beckoning her closer, then said in a low voice, “Our Third Young Master’s old ironwood tree has bloomed with flowers of longing — he’s got you tucked right into his heart. He said if anything happened to you, he wouldn’t want to live either!”

Huayue: “…”

Her mind might have been a muddled mess at the time, but even without thinking hard, she knew there was no way Li Jingyun would ever say such nonsense.

She looked at this refined-looking physician before her and mentally drew a big cross over him — unreliable.

“Hey, that look in your eyes really wounds my heart.” Wen Guzhi pouted. “I’ve never told a lie in my life, don’t believe me, just watch.”

He straightened up, cleared his throat, and said loudly, “Miss, to change the dressing you’ll need to remove your garment. One shouldn’t shy from treatment even when ill — please, allow yourself to loosen up a little.”

Then he raised a finger and silently counted: three, two…

Before he reached one, the curtain at the partition was drawn open. Li Jingyun stepped in expressionless, glancing between her and Wen Guzhi.

“The trouble you brought, you clean up yourself.” He reached out and pressed a hand on his shoulder. “If you really can’t handle it, then get lost together with her.”

Wen Guzhi laughed, winking at Huayue as he did: see that?

Huayue was stunned, slow to react for a moment, but Li Jingyun moved fast — he left the ointment behind and pushed the man out past the partition.

The crying outside cut off abruptly as well.

Peace at last.

Brushing the dust off his robe, Li Jingyun turned around, right into Yin Huayue’s complicated gaze.

“What? Watching the show made you go dumb?” He sat down at the edge of the bed and reached out with a finger to tap her forehead. “Soul, come back.”

Huayue turned her head to dodge his hand, feeling inexplicably uneasy, and mumbled with her head down, “This servant can change her own dressing.”

“Aren’t you something. Can your hand even reach your own back?” Li Jingyun rolled his eyes at her and reached out to untie her sash. “If you had that kind of skill you wouldn’t be a servant — go perform on the streets, guaranteed you’d rake in tips.”

A chill crossed her shoulder, and Huayue, startled, reached up to hold her half-slipped garment in place. Li Jingyun glanced at her sideways. “I’ve already seen it, what were you doing earlier — let go.”

Huayue pressed her lips together, her fingers gripping the fabric so tightly her knuckles turned white — it didn’t look like shyness so much as genuine resistance.

Li Jingyun paused, staring at her for a moment, suddenly a little irritated. “You’re a servant with a back full of scars like that — what, still hoping to marry into some prestigious family?”

“…No.”

“Then what are you so bothered about if it’s not that?”

“…” Huayue fell silent, only quietly pulling the garment back over her shoulder, stubbornly clutching the collar shut.

That look of hers, as if she were terrified he’d take advantage of her, sparked an unreasonable irritation in him. Li Jingyun tossed the ointment aside and said coldly, “Do you really think I want to tend to you? Change it or not, I don’t care — it’s not my flesh that’ll rot and ache if the wound festers.”

With that, he stood, flung the curtain aside, and walked out.

“Jingyun brother?” Han Shuang’s voice came from outside, and Wen Guzhi sounded a little surprised too. “What happened?”

Li Jingyun said nothing, and a moment later there was the sound of hurried footsteps, followed by several people leaving one after another.

The room fell quiet. Huayue stared at the ointment on the floor, sulking for a while, her pale face utterly without color, like Wangfu after being caught in the rain — listless and drooping.

She reached her fingers out, then drew them back. After hesitating a long while, she muttered a low curse, braced herself on the bed frame, and stretched out her arm to gently pick the ointment back up.