Completely unaware there was someone behind her, Huayue looked at Wen Guzhi, and pulled out her handkerchief with concern to hand to him. “Sir, this servant is only speaking the truth. Why do you look so frightened?”
Wen Guzhi’s face had gone pale; he didn’t dare reach for it, only swallowed and glanced pointedly toward the space behind her. “Say something nice right now… there might still be hope.”
Something nice? Huayue didn’t quite understand his odd expression, thought about it, and said tentatively, “May Young Master Zhu enjoy the company of his beauty and live in health and longevity?”
Wen Guzhi: “…” She might as well have stayed silent.
Huayue watched his despairing expression in confusion and was about to ask more, when she heard Li Jingyun’s voice behind her: “Steward Yin.”
An ordinary tone, seemingly without much feeling — yet the two of them in the corridor both froze.
Huayue understood at once and looked at Wen Guzhi with regret. Wen Guzhi was even more frustrated than she was — he’d been hinting for so long and this foolish girl still hadn’t caught on. Whose fault was that?
The two stood locked for a moment before Huayue finally turned first, lowering her head and bowing to him. “This servant is here.”
“Go fetch some more tea.” Li Jingyun said, as if he’d heard nothing, instructing calmly. “Warm is fine.”
“Yes.”
As if pardoned from execution, Huayue hurried off with quick little steps, vanishing in a blink. Wen Guzhi, seeing this, gave a dry laugh and cupped his hands. “I’ll go help her.”
Li Jingyun eyed him, lips pressed thin, expression cold.
Wen Guzhi backed away two steps, then turned and ran, catching up to the foolish girl ahead, complaining grievously, “You said all that, and he’s the one giving me the cold stare.”
Huayue walked with her hands folded properly, lips barely moving, words squeezed out through her teeth. “This servant didn’t say anything wrong.”
“You didn’t say anything wrong, but he wasn’t happy to hear it.”
“Then what should I have said to make him happy?” Huayue was puzzled.
Wen Guzhi was thoroughly exasperated. “They say women are perceptive by nature — how are you no different from the Third Young Master in this? Men like to hear certain things — how could you not know? Praise him, flatter him, please him, delight him. Does this even need teaching?”
A flicker of embarrassment crossed her eyes. Huayue pressed her lips together. “As a servant, it’s best to do what a servant should.”
Those words fell like stagnant water, without a ripple. Wen Guzhi looked at her for a moment, wanting to say something but holding back, and finally sighed a long sigh. “It seems the Third Young Master truly has no luck — even in matters of marriage, he can only be manipulated by others.”
Huayue found this funny. “The young master is noble by birth, exceptionally talented, and favored by those in high positions. If someone like that can only be a puppet, then how many truly free people exist in this world?”
“You little maid, what do you know.” Wen Guzhi stepped into the tea room, glanced around to confirm no one else was there, and set two empty teapots in front of her. “Do you really think the marriage between the Han and Li families is a proper match?”
He laid a tea spoon between the two teapots like a bridge, gesturing at it with pursed lips. “The Third Young Master is this.”
Huayue picked up the tea spoon, wiped it, and set it on the tray beside them. “As long as the young master marries someone of matching status, it’s unavoidable he’ll have to sacrifice something to maintain relations between the two families.”
“But the situation now is different.” He brought over another teapot and set it beside them, tilting his chin. “The Crown Prince has been courting the Third Young Master’s favor for years, long intending to bring him under his wing. How could he possibly let the Third Young Master go along with the Princess Imperial’s wishes now? Today’s whole farce — isn’t that exactly why it happened?”
“They want to form marriage ties with the Third Young Master because they covet the military strength of General Li behind him. Once the Third Young Master commits to one side, it’s as good as pulling the entire General’s Manor into that faction. If misfortune should ever strike, when the nest overturns, how can any egg remain whole?”
Tapping his fingers on the three teapots, Wen Guzhi said mournfully, “Poor Third Young Master—”
Huayue listened, stunned for a moment, but quickly regained her composure, carefully pouring tea into the three pots and picking them all up to carry outside. “A master is still a master, however pitiable. This servant is just a servant — there’s nothing I can do to help him.”
“That’s not quite right.” Wen Guzhi followed along, chattering. “You’re always by his side — surely you can find ways to make him happy. He just wants to hear you say some nice things right now. What harm would it do to flatter him a little?”
Flatter him, and then get mocked for it? Huayue shook her head — doing this once was already a lapse in judgment; doing it a second time would just be foolish.
“Imperial Physician Wen.” A maid ran over, lifting her skirts. “Miss Han has woken up. Please come quickly.”
Wen Guzhi closed his mouth and finally followed her off. Huayue, carrying the tray, watched his retreating figure and shook her head gently.
The Princess Imperial and the First Prince — no, the Crown Prince — argued in Li Jingyun’s room for a full two hours. Huayue had made four rounds bringing tea by the end. Finally both sides conceded a little: the Crown Prince would first settle Sishui elsewhere, while Li Jingyun still didn’t agree to the marriage with Han Shuang.
The main room broke up unhappily. As Huayue went in to tidy up afterward, she instinctively drifted toward the inner chamber.
The First Prince’s keepsakes must still be hidden in his room. With Sishui around yesterday, she’d had no chance to search. Now, with Shen Zhiluo and Li Jingyun outside talking happily, this was her chance to scout things out.
Quietly sweeping the inner chamber, Huayue opened two drawers, frowned, and closed them again, moving on to a cabinet on the side. Her movements were very light, careful not to make any sound, glancing outside through the window as she searched.
In the courtyard, two figures sat facing each other.
On the table, a sky-blue teacup gave off wisps of bitter fragrance. Shen Zhiluo reached out to take it up and smell it, not drinking, just staring at the patterns on the cup. “Young Master, you’re already at the age of manhood. Not having someone by your side isn’t a good thing.”
Li Jingyun leaned lazily against the rockery behind him, his long legs stretched carelessly onto the empty seat beside him. “Does the Grand Diviner also do matchmaking work now?”
“It’s not that I’m meddling in others’ affairs, but according to the natal chart, if the young master were to gain a happy match within the year, it would bode very well for his future.”
Li Jingyun seemed to understand, and pointed with a smile toward the person peeking through the window inside. “What about her, then?”
Shen Zhiluo followed his gaze, a flash of irritation in his eyes, though it vanished in an instant, replaced by a laugh, his purple eyes gleaming with striking beauty. “A melon plucked by force is never sweet. Whether she holds you in her heart, others may not know, but you, sir, are like a fish in water — how could you not sense the temperature?”
“The Grand Diviner speaks with great wisdom.” Li Jingyun propped his chin up with a hand, a look of great distress on his face. “But how does that saying go — a forced melon isn’t sweet, but it does quench thirst. Something within easy reach — who cares if it’s sweet or not. Once plucked and placed in one’s own basket, at least no one else can eat it.”
Shen Zhiluo stopped smiling, his handsome face darkening like dusk. He looked back at the man before him, his voice dropping very low. “This woman was born under an ill star. She brings misfortune to her parents, to her elder brother, and will, in the future, bring misfortune to her husband as well.”
At these words, the smile on the man’s face slowly faded.
Shen Zhiluo thought this to be expected, and continued smoothly, “Young Master, you should still consider the woman the Crown Prince sent. That girl has an excellent birth chart, one that brings good fortune. With her in the household, the family could…”
“Have you said this to her?” Li Jingyun suddenly cut in.
Shen Zhiluo paused, not understanding. “Said what, to whom?”
“That she brings misfortune to her parents, her brother, and will bring misfortune to her husband too. Have you said this to Yin Huayue?”
Not expecting him to still be dwelling on this, Shen Zhiluo lowered his eyes. “She’s known her own fate since she was old enough to understand. There’s no need for the young master to trouble himself over it.”
Dark emotion churning in his eyes, Li Jingyun looked at him for a long while, then slowly withdrew his legs and sat up straight.
“Earlier I ran into you two being close on several occasions — I thought perhaps you two were old friends from years past, kindred spirits who understood each other.” He leaned in closer, the mockery in his eyes plain to see. “Never imagined the Grand Diviner never took her to heart either. Pity my little maid, who even praised the Grand Diviner’s looks — turns out to be just another fool taken in by appearances.”
His manner was overly sarcastic, every word barbed, uncomfortable to hear. Even someone as calm as Shen Zhiluo couldn’t help but grow irritated. “Young Master, that’s rather too harsh a judgment. I’ve known her for over a decade — surely I understand her far better than you could.”
“What the Grand Diviner calls understanding and closeness — is that cursing a child from birth with misfortune upon misfortune, leaving her with no joy in life?” Li Jingyun said dismissively. “With over a decade like that, you might as well not have bothered.”
—From the moment I was born, you said I was inauspicious. When I grew a little older, you said I would bring ruin to the nation. Later, when I truly lost my home and family, you said I was fated to have no romance, doomed to grow old alone. Lord Shen, what did I ever do wrong, to earn such hatred from you?
Huayue’s voice echoed in his mind. Shen Zhiluo’s breath caught, a chill spreading from his chest straight to his fingertips. He wanted to grip the compass in his hand tightly, but upon gripping it, found it even colder still.
The helpless compass needle spun several times, unable to settle, until Shen Zhiluo suddenly reached out and pressed it firmly still.
“What do you understand?” he spoke again, his voice hoarse beyond recognition. “The decade or more of mutual understanding and support between her and me — is that something you have any right to judge? Do you know what she looked like when she was born? Do you know what she has been through? Have you saved her life? Has she idolized you? When she was jolted awake by thunder in the middle of the night, were you the first person she ran to? Do you know what her handwriting looked like at six, or what she painted at ten?”
Growing more agitated as he spoke, Shen Zhiluo nonetheless calmed himself by the end, looking at him, and after a long pause said flatly, “You know nothing at all. You only know that right now, she’s a maid by your side.”
A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, scattering the curling wisps of tea steam on the table. The weeds atop the rockery swayed along with it, and a loose pebble tumbled down into the fish pond below, the water rippling outward with a cold, clear pattern. The originally elegant and refined courtyard grew, somehow, cold and desolate.
Shen Zhiluo rose, cradling the compass, and walked out coldly. “You’d best go take Sishui in soon.”
The tone was half a sigh, half a mockery. Carried on the wind, it drifted into the tea, tinged with bitterness. Li Jingyun didn’t respond, half his face reflected in the teacup, stirred by a floating tea leaf into an unreadable expression.
Having finished searching the cabinets without success, Huayue glanced out the window again and saw only Li Jingyun left alone outside. He sat sideways at the stone table in the courtyard, motionless, saying nothing, his back cold and lonely.
“Steward Yin.” Just as Huayue thought he might sit quietly for a long while, he suddenly spoke.
Startled for a moment, she cast a reluctant glance at the few drawers still unchecked, then took the cloak hanging on the screen and walked out.
“What are the young master’s orders?” She reached his side and shook out the cloak to drape it over him.
Her slender fingers moved quickly, tying a neat knot. Li Jingyun looked down at it, his eyes uneasy. “Pass along a message — have Liu Chenghe come by.”
“Yes.” She agreed, tidying his cloak, then turned to go run the errand. Seen from behind, her grey mouse-fur jacket really did look old and coarse.
He watched her quietly, one finger tapping lightly on the edge of the table.
Liu Chenghe came, and the two of them shut themselves in to discuss matters. Huayue waited quietly outside the door, calculating that when dinner came, she could use the excuse of changing the bedding to check those two remaining drawers.
But unexpectedly, the two men’s discussion dragged on for a long while; dinner was taken right there in the main room. After Liu Chenghe left, Li Jingyun lazily lay down on the couch, took up a book to read, showing no sign of intending to go out.
Huayue wiped down the vases in the room with a cloth, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. After some hesitation, she smiled and said, “The moonlight is lovely tonight. Miss Han’s maid came by to say that if the young master could go for a walk by Guanshan Lake, that would be wonderful.”
Li Jingyun didn’t even look up. “Not going.”
“What about the barbecue feast in the east courtyard?” she suggested, her eyes bright. “You didn’t eat much at dinner either.”
Turning a page, Li Jingyun yawned. “It’s going to rain. Won’t be able to eat for long anyway.”
“Where? The moon’s still so…” Huayue laughed, pointing up at the sky, only to see a mass of dark clouds covering the bright moon.
She swallowed the rest of her sentence and lowered her head, obediently continuing to wipe the vase.
Li Jingyun glanced at her, his expression not pleasant. “What, trying to get rid of me?”
Her heart lurched; Huayue quickly shook her head. “No, how could that be — wherever the young master wants to be is fine with this servant.”
“Then why are you dodging around like this?” He rolled up his book, propping it against the side of his face. “Missing one of your old flames again?”
Having been teased about this so often, it no longer bothered her in the least. Huayue set down the vase and replied readily, “So many old flames — which one do you mean?”
His cheeks puffed slightly; Li Jingyun snapped the book open in front of his face and scoffed. “Love whoever you want — with me around, don’t think you’ll succeed.”
Huayue smiled faintly, glancing once more at the drawers in the inner chamber, and casually brought in the bedding she’d already prepared. “This bed has had outside guests recently — this servant will change it for you.”
“No need.” Li Jingyun said gruffly. “I don’t mind.”
“But…”
“My guests — what business is that of yours?” He grew irritated, brows lowering. “I said no need to change it, so don’t.”
The smile on her face stiffened a little. Huayue looked down at the bedding in her arms, then reluctantly stroked it once and set it aside.
That path was closed off — what to do now?
The book before him unread, not a single character taken in, Li Jingyun glanced over the edge of it and saw her lingering awkwardly, her amber eyes drifting repeatedly toward the inner chamber, glancing away quickly each time.
His brow lifted; a flash of dark light crossed his eyes. After a moment’s thought, he set down the book. “I’m quite tired today. I want to rest early. You should go rest too.”
“Yes.” Reluctantly, she withdrew and closed the door. Standing outside for a moment, she watched the lights inside go out, and her eyes brightened again.
If the direct approach wouldn’t work, then the indirect one would have to do.
She found a stick of sleep-inducing incense to light, set it by Li Jingyun’s window facing away from the wind, and crouched outside, covering her nose and mouth, watching the smoke drift into the room.
Rain began falling in the night, growing heavier and heavier. Huayue watched, thinking that rainy nights made for the deepest sleep, and with the incense’s soporific effect added on top, this should be foolproof.
So, half an hour later, she pushed the door open with a creak.
“Young Master?” she called softly, carrying the bedding, moving lightly. “It’s raining. This servant was worried you’d catch a chill, so I’ve come to add a blanket.”
The room was silent, save for the sound of rain outside — nothing else stirring.
Pleased, Huayue moved closer to the inner chamber and called again, “Young Master?”
Li Jingyun lay quietly, eyes closed, breathing even.
Relieved, Huayue crept forward silently, pretending to spread the blanket over him while secretly reaching into the bed toward the drawer, her hand finding the bronze ring and pulling gently.
A bundle of yellow brocade appeared, the contents inside undisturbed.
Her eyes lit up; she reached quickly to grab it — but the man suddenly rolled over outward, arm extending, about to touch her leg.
Yin Huayue reacted with lightning speed, using her years of martial training to perform a backward flip, landing silently and gracefully atop the bed itself.
Li Jingyun’s hand landed empty, resting on the edge of the bed — he hadn’t woken.
Sighing quietly in relief, Huayue was about to try again when a sudden crack of thunder split the sky outside.
Crack— A deafening boom, the flowered window lighting up bright with lightning at the same moment.
Huayue froze, terrified. Li Jingyun, sleeping, seemed also to be disturbed by the noise, muttering something, rolling over and throwing an arm across her shoulders, pulling her entirely onto the pillow beside him.
The lightning seemed to split right over the roof beam; spring thunder rolled across the sky, rain pouring down outside. Huayue lay stiff, eyes wide open, seeing only the longevity mountain pattern on the canopy above the bed, Li Jingyun’s warm breath at her ear.
With someone in his arms, the man seemed not to notice at all — his breathing calm, deep in sleep. His arm was heavy, pressing down until she could barely breathe, yet because of it, she somehow felt less afraid.
As a child she’d always been afraid of thunder, and every time it thundered she used to run to Shen Zhiluo’s room, because everyone said thunder would never strike someone who understood the mandate of heaven. Now, hiding beside someone who understood no such mandate, she nonetheless felt strangely at ease.
She turned her head to look sideways; amid the lightning and thunder, the sleeping Li Jingyun had none of his daytime fierceness or arrogance — his features, deep and well-defined, looked extremely proper, long lashes lowered, appearing gentle and harmless.
Someone like this — even as a puppet, would be the most vivid, most eye-catching puppet of all.
The thunder lasted about the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Huayue watched him for that long as well. Once it passed, she came to her senses and tried to move his arm away to continue toward the drawer — but the moment she exerted force, the man beside her seemed about to wake.
Huayue froze in fear, hands raised beside her own ears, not even daring to breathe.
Li Jingyun shifted, pulling her even closer, chin resting in the curve of her neck, seeming to find it very comfortable, and fell deeply asleep once more.
Huayue: “…”
She had come to steal something, not to steal a person.
How would she even explain this scene, once he woke tomorrow?
Worried, she worried herself right to sleep as well. Outside, the wind and rain raged on, yet she slept remarkably soundly — for once, the nightmares and sleep-talk that had haunted her for years didn’t come to find her, and she slept straight through to dawn.
The moment she opened her eyes, she anxiously turned to look and found Li Jingyun still deep asleep. She quickly tried to move his arm.
This time, Li Jingyun showed no sign of waking. She freed herself successfully, sat up, straightened her clothes and hair, and had just knelt up to reach for the drawer’s contents when she heard: “What are you doing?”
Startled nearly out of her skin, Huayue scrambled off the bed, half-falling, standing beside it stammering, “This servant… this servant was getting the blanket, it was raining outside… this servant didn’t mean to…”
Li Jingyun’s eyes were half-open, looking as if he hadn’t really woken at all. He pulled the bed curtain shut, gave a muffled grunt, and fell back asleep.
Cold sweat had soaked through her clothes. Huayue stood by the bed, stunned for a good while, and realized he really had only startled awake for a moment, with no intention of pursuing the matter. She hurriedly, on weakened legs, backed out of the room.
She had truly walked to the gates of the underworld and back, and thankfully hadn’t been caught. She closed the door and patted her chest in relief — but no sooner had she relaxed than something occurred to her.
She was fine, but what about the item?
She looked up at the tightly shut door, her expression turning grim, thinking, would she really have to come back and do this again tonight?
Better not…
Her eyes and brows scrunched into a knot; she pressed her hand to her forehead and rubbed her temples in frustration.
“Sister, up so early?” Biezhi called out a greeting from a distance.
Huayue turned and saw her carrying a tray of morning pastries over. The two locked eyes; Biezhi paused, looked her up and down, then glanced at the room beside her, expression suddenly complicated. “Sister, you…”
The disheveled look of someone just woken and the hoarseness in her voice were impossible to hide. Huayue opened her mouth to explain, but felt it would only seem more suspicious — who would believe that a maid had simply fallen asleep in her master’s room by accident?
So she only smiled and moved to walk past her.
“Sister.” Biezhi, dropping her usual meekness, blocked her way. “Don’t blame me, your little sister, for reminding you — you should know your own place. The Princess Imperial only just sent one woman away, and you’re already entertaining such foolish thoughts?”
Huayue was thoroughly embarrassed and could only nod. “Duly noted.”
This response sounded even more like defiance. Biezhi’s face darkened; she set the tray down on the long stone slab in the corridor and, hands on her hips, said, “Your little sister has overstepped, but let me say a few words to you today all the same. People need face, trees need bark. Not every sparrow can fly up to a high branch — fly too recklessly, and you might end up dead without even a whole corpse.”
“I understand, it won’t happen again.” Huayue smiled and tried to walk past her toward another direction.
But the young maid moved even faster, blocking her path again, saying coldly, “I thought you seemed decent enough before — never imagined you were this shameless, harboring thoughts of trading your body for wealth and status. And instead of coming to apologize to my mistress for such disgraceful conduct, you think you can just walk away?”
Huayue’s smile turned cold. She looked at this girl who didn’t even reach her chin, finally losing patience. “Has your mistress married into this family yet?”
Biezhi startled, then grew angry. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Sooner or later still makes a difference. Right now your mistress hasn’t married in yet — what right do you have to manage who spends the night in the young master’s room?” Huayue reached out and brushed the morning dew off her shoulder. “Not to mention this servant did nothing — even if I truly had climbed into the master’s bed, it still wouldn’t be your place to lecture me today.”
A finger pressed into her shoulder, shoving her aside, Huayue said with a mocking smile, “You…” Biezhi brushed away her hair, furious.
Reinserting the silver hairpin into her rearranged hair bun, her hairstyle like a distant mountain ridge, her brows like sharp peaks, Huayue glanced at her once more and sauntered off, disappearing at the end of the corridor.