At the entrance of the Jingzhao Prefecture office stood a cypress tree, lush and green. When Huayue rushed forward, she happened to be facing it, and could see its neatly trimmed branches and leaves, and its crown swaying gently in the wind.

She felt that Shen Zhiluo was rather like this tree—rigid and aloof. Every time she met him, he acted like a mournful savior, pulling at her with tremendous strength, as if trying to drag her out of some deep swamp.

Yet on the other side of that abyss, someone else had also caught hold of her.

Li Jingyun calmly drew back his hand, pulling her toward himself, while his other hand struck sharply at the wrist Shen Zhiluo held.

The web of his hand went numb, and Shen Zhiluo released her.

“Grand Diviner.” Li Jingyun’s tone turned cold the moment he saw the other’s expression wasn’t good. “This is my concubine.”

Withdrawing his hand to rub his wrist, Shen Zhiluo smiled, his purple eyes brimming with mockery. “Concubine? No different from a servant, really—amuse yourself with her when you’re in the mood, and push her out to block disaster when trouble comes. Third Young Master, there are so many women in this world—why must it be her you take in?”

“That’s a question I should be asking you. Why must you keep grabbing at someone I’ve already taken?” Displeased, he pulled her back behind him, his eyes turning sharp as blades. “What’s past is past. Even if you’d known her a decade earlier, she’d have nothing to do with you now.”

The wind stirred the trees, and an inexplicable bleakness settled over the front courtyard. Huayue rubbed her arms and poked half her head out from behind Li Jingyun. “Actually…”

“Shut up.”

The two men, who moments ago had been at each other’s throats, reached unprecedented agreement on the matter of shouting at her. Huayue choked back her words and sullenly withdrew her head again.

“Do you have further business?” Li Jingyun’s patience was running thin. “I’m in a hurry to take her home.”

Shen Zhiluo gave him a mocking glance, then turned to look at the person standing outside the gate. “Will you take her, or the other one?”

Han Shuang stood outside the gate, watching curiously. Catching his glance turned her way, she startled, then forced a smile and offered a bow.

Li Jingyun’s face turned cold. “That person has nothing to do with me.”

The compass in his hand spun once; Shen Zhiluo stroked the patterns on its surface and said quietly, “The fact that you’re standing here at all—you owe that entirely to her.”

Something stirred in his mind, and he turned his eyes to the man before him.

Shen Zhiluo carried about him a cold, aloof air that Li Jingyun greatly disliked, but when he spoke these words, his tone was calm, like a stranger’s idle murmur in passing on the street.

Having said this, he didn’t even look at him, only gazed past him at the person behind, and said in a low voice: “A thousand lives cannot make up for one moment of impulse. Sooner or later you’ll die at his hands.”

These words were meant for her. Huayue lowered her head and listened, her expression unchanged.

Only, the hand gripping hers tightened by another two measures, pinching her painfully; the skin around her wrist grew hot and tender.

Instinctively she struggled, and pulled her hand back, gently rubbing it.

The back of the man before her stiffened; his empty palm slowly closed and slipped into his sleeve.

“No need to trouble yourself, Grand Diviner.” Li Jingyun’s mood seemed to sour all at once; he spat out these words in an icy tone, swept his sleeve, and strode out with his head down.

Seeing this, Huayue hurried after him in quick, small steps.

Shen Zhiluo stood without moving, his eyes fixed straight ahead, and only as she passed by his side did he say quietly: “Sooner or later you’ll understand—I never lied to you.”

The wind blew the bronze needle on the compass, and with a clatter it pointed toward the character for “Kan.” Huayue glanced at it, made no reply, and let the swirl of her skirt hem in the wind carve an arc as she slipped away right under his nose.

The bustling Jingzhao Prefecture office was soon left far behind. Li Jingyun took her back to the General’s Residence, not saying a single word the entire way.

Huayue watched him, assuming he was thinking about the matter of Han Shuang, and obediently kept quiet, until they returned to the main room of the East Courtyard, where she finally stepped forward to help him remove his outer robe.

“The General must already know of today’s events.” Hanging the outer robe on the screen to one side, Huayue reported to him in a low voice. “So in a little while, you may still need to go to the study again.”

The man before her made no reply, standing facing the window, his ink-black eyes narrowing slightly, as if lost in thought.

Knowing his mood wasn’t good, Huayue held her tongue and quietly tried to withdraw.

But just as she cracked the door open, a hand suddenly reached over her head from behind and slammed the door shut with a “pah.”

Huayue startled, her shoulders tensing at once.

Her body was turned around and pressed firmly against the door panel. She looked up, and there was his face bearing down over her.

Li Jingyun’s jawline was elegant and striking, especially when he tilted his head down like this, like distant mountains meeting the sky, tugging at one’s soul. But his eyes were heavy, letting not a hint of light through.

The scent of wine still lingered on his breath as he parted her lips and teeth, kissing her tenderly yet fiercely, his rough palm prying her fingers apart and interlacing them, one by one, locking them tightly together.

Huayue let out a muffled sound and tried to pull away, but the next instant he caught her chin and deepened the tangle further.

The soft, indulgent sounds seemed especially clear in the empty, quiet room. Huayue’s ears gradually reddened; she struggled with mild irritation, her strength rising until she forgot herself entirely.

Then came a sharp “crack”—her finger throbbed with pain, and her brow furrowed suddenly.

The man atop her stiffened for a moment, finally pulling away from her lips, his eyes deep as he looked down, carrying seven parts anger and two parts alarm: “Why are you thrashing about?”

Huayue said helplessly, “Young Master, even a pheasant flaps about before it’s killed. You suddenly… won’t even let this concubine move?”

Her eyes remained just as clear, not a trace of desire in them, her tone light and gentle, like the sound of a pipa string plucked by fingertips, landing on the heart, itchy and numbing.

His throat bobbed, and he cursed under his breath.

A servant passed by outside sweeping the path; the person in his arms suddenly went rigid, pressed motionless against the door, eyes fixed on him nervously.

He paid it no mind, only pulled her hand out from behind her back and asked irritably, “Where did you twist it?”

Her face burned; Huayue was still somewhat dazed, only her little finger twitching slightly.

Li Jingyun lowered his eyes and gently pressed and rubbed each knuckle of her finger, and only after confirming nothing was sprained did he give a cold snort and lean in close to her again.

“Young Master.” She was somewhat torn between laughter and tears. “May this concubine ask why?”

His brow arched with a rakish air; he looked into her eyes and said in a low voice, “Guess.”

Huayue found this thoroughly difficult, and after carefully going over what had happened before he grew angry, she said tentatively, “Lord Shen said today’s matter concerns Miss Han. You’re angry about that?”

His white canine flashed as he bit down hard on the tender flesh of her neck. Huayue let out an “ah,” then, catching sight of a shadow moving outside from the corner of her eye, hastily clapped a hand over her own mouth, her amber eyes darting about in panic, her body still struggling.

“Wrong guess, guess again.” The utterly unreasonable scourge atop her, having had his fill of biting, rested his chin against the side of her ear, lazily locking her waist in place.

Huayue wanted very much to lose her temper, but one look into those unfathomably dark eyes and the anger simply wouldn’t come out. Getting nowhere with struggling, she gave up in resignation: “Then you must have some grievance against Lord Shen, and are taking it out on this concubine in passing.”

He gave a scornful laugh by her ear, the breath spilling into her ear canal sending a shiver up her right arm.

“What are you to him? This lord dislikes the look of him—why would that have anything to do with taking it out on you?” He curled a lock of her hair about, unconcerned. “This lord doesn’t do that petty jealous business. Boring.”

Thinking about it, that made sense—jealousy was the business of narrow-minded young ladies in boudoirs. A young master like him could have as many people around him as he pleased; why would he care about such things?

Huayue nodded, and remembering Shen Zhiluo’s words, decided to try persuading him after all: “Though Young Master and Lord Shen never get along, his judgment has always been accurate, and he doesn’t speak carelessly. This matter of the red envelope—if Young Master wishes to investigate, you might listen to what Lord Shen says.”

“……”

The fire in his chest burned even hotter; Li Jingyun pressed against her and laughed instead: “Didn’t you say you dislike him?”

“Disliking him is one thing.” Huayue said softly, “What ought to be heeded should still be heeded.”

His chest shook with laughter; he forced her knee apart with his own, pressed against her ear, and gritted out: “This young lord won’t listen, and don’t you think about it either.”

A fierce, overwhelming presence pressed down from him; Huayue’s pupils shrank slightly, her neck stiff and pale. Her teeth were parted again, and her half-formed whimper was swallowed whole back into her throat.

Breath mingling, an entanglement as if to the death.

Reason told Yin Huayue that she was doing something wrong—she was clearly nothing but a side consort in name only; how could she be so intimate with someone? But his thin lips pressed close, their warm touch scorching the corner of her mouth, burning away the last shred of reason she had left.

Her trembling hand slowly reached toward the fabric at his back, wanting to crease it into wrinkles, as if to twist it into a knot the way her own heart felt right now.

“Legs gone weak?” He released her, murmuring the question softly.

Huayue’s legs trembled as she answered, neck stiff: “No. Just tired from standing so long.”

The man above her laughed, and in his eyes, as if clouds had parted for the sun, light finally shone through.

He scooped her up in that position, walked a few steps to the soft couch, and lay back; she fell onto him, her jade-green skirt hem sweeping up and tangling with the dark fabric of his robe.

“Young Master.” Huayue wanted to speak calmly, but the words that came out carried a slight tremor no matter how she listened to them. “Do you like this concubine?”

Li Jingyun, half-lidded, resting on the thick cushion, said nothing in response to this, only gently pecked at her eyelid.

“Do you like me?” She persisted, asking again.

Li Jingyun found this amusing, gently shook his head, then caught her chin and tilted his head up to press close again.

But the person above him suddenly turned her head away.

Her hand, braced against him, trembled—very lightly, very slowly—but after only a moment she withdrew it, kneeling upright at his side, hands folded together on her lap.

“What is it?” His arms suddenly empty, he turned his head, displeased.

The person beside him smiled at him and nodded gently, softly: “The General will be back soon. You should go wait in the study first.”

The earlier tender atmosphere was blown away without a trace by these words; Li Jingyun rolled his eyes irritably. “My father knows the woman I’ve taken in is you—he’s probably already thinking of a way to throw you out of the household. And here you are, so good, still worrying about his affairs for him?”

“Important matters come first.” She helped him up, reaching to smooth the wrinkles in the back of his robe, her gaze calm. “This concubine will wait here.”

Instinct told Li Jingyun something was off, but a glance at Yin Huayue showed her expression as usual, her posture respectful, nothing amiss.

Puzzled, he took the outer robe and put it on, pulled her close, and flicked her forehead. “This lord will be back shortly.”

“Yes.” She answered softly, bowing to him with utmost compliance.

Li Jingyun left, looking back three times with every step. The main door closed, and quiet returned to the room.

The person on the soft couch sat silently for a long while before finally letting out a long breath. She pinched her sleeve and wiped her lips, then straightened her skirt hem again, and rose to go to the main courtyard to retrieve something she’d set aside earlier.

Passing the small west gate, Huayue saw in the distance someone feeding the dog.

Wangfu was fierce toward everyone except her, so Shuangjiang stood far away, tossing steamed buns bit by bit, and would laugh a little whenever it caught them neatly in its mouth.

After watching for a moment, Huayue walked over.

The moment Wangfu spotted her, it ignored Shuangjiang entirely, tongue lolling out, tail wagging furiously in her direction.

Shuangjiang looked over too, and seeing it was her, narrowed her eyes into a smile: “You’re back. Said you were bringing soup to the General, and then vanished. Madam’s still looking for you.”

Huayue looked at her, pressed her lips together. “I still need to stay a few more days in the East Courtyard.”

The smile on her face paused; Shuangjiang looked at her, confusion gradually spreading in her eyes.

“Aren’t you always the one worrying about Madam most?” she said. “Everyone’s back now—why stay in the East Courtyard?”

“Some matters aren’t finished yet.”

The bun in her hands was crushed; Shuangjiang lowered her eyes at it, then suddenly said, “When you went to Guanshan, word reached us that you were getting too close to the Third Young Master, that it might cause trouble. I didn’t believe it, and even scolded Xiaocai for it, said you’re someone who’s survived on the edge of a blade—how could you let yourself get carried away by feelings?”

“So are you here now to slap my face?”

Shuangjiang was the person who’d entered the General’s Residence from the palace together with her; for a long stretch of time the two had relied on each other for survival, so whatever she said, Huayue knew it was for her own good.

She took the crumbled bun from her hand, walked over and fed it to Wangfu, and said very quietly, “No.”

“Then what’s this getup for?” Shuangjiang sneered, her tone turning sharp. “Trying the beauty stratagem to climb up, testing out another path?”

A little embarrassed, Huayue stroked Wangfu’s head. “When your life hangs in the balance, the choices you make aren’t ones you’re willing to make.”

Shuangjiang eyed her with suspicion.

Letting out a long sigh, Huayue turned and briefly recounted what had happened on Guanshan Mountain. Shuangjiang was skeptical at first, but when she heard about the Princess Imperial, she fell silent.

“You…” After a long hesitation, Shuangjiang asked, “Do you really have no other feelings for the Third Young Master?”

What other feelings could there be? She laughed softly, her gaze falling on Wangfu’s head, and turned the question back on her: “Do you feed Wangfu because you like it?”

“No.” Shuangjiang answered honestly. “I just saw there were leftover buns in the kitchen, and happened to be free, so I came to play with it a bit.”

The hand stroking Wangfu stiffened for a moment, then quickly continued smoothing its fur. Huayue’s voice was very soft, almost a murmur: “Right, just idling about with nothing to do, teasing it a little—what feelings could there be in that.”

This answer satisfied Shuangjiang quite well; she smiled again, pulling Huayue’s hand. “Come back quickly once you’re done with your business. Word from the other side says they’ve found something important. Us scattered pieces might soon be able to come back together.”

Something important? Huayue thought about it. “Does it have to do with Shen Zhiluo?”

“Seems like he’s the one who found it.” Shuangjiang pursed her lips. “Though I don’t like him either, if even Lord Chang can accept him, he surely hasn’t really betrayed the First Prince.”

Mention of Chang Gui left Huayue feeling a little guilty; even though last time it hadn’t been for her, Chang Gui wouldn’t have succeeded either, but the two of them had already torn apart their relationship completely. She had no idea what things would be like the next time they met.

A jumbled mess of matters tangled together left Huayue somewhat vexed.

By the time she returned to the East Courtyard, her expression looked calm as ever. She prepared Li Jingyun’s evening meal and laid out his bedding.

Li Jingyun looked at her several times in succession and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Huayue answered offhandedly, “As your concubine, of course I’m thinking of you, Young Master.”

Words utterly without feeling, exactly like the perfunctory pleasantries used to deal with outside guests at a banquet table.

He was thoroughly displeased to hear this, and reached out to pull her close, examining her carefully.

Yin Huayue’s frame had always been slight to begin with, carrying herself with an outwardly imposing air that was hollow inside. Since coming to the East Courtyard, she’d suffered more illness and injury, and had visibly thinned quite a bit. He reached out and measured with his hand, finding that her face really was now about the size of his palm.

“Haven’t you been eating?” He frowned.

The person in his arms smiled slightly: “I’ve eaten.”

“Then why aren’t you putting on any flesh?” He pinched her cheek, then her waist, his brows knitting high. “Eat some more.”

The table was laden with rich food and wine—his evening meal. Huayue looked at it and shook her head. “There’s a difference in status. This concubine shouldn’t sit at the table.”

Li Jingyun was amused to the point of anger: “Fine, don’t sit at the table then—sit on this lord’s lap, and this lord will feed you.”

Seeing that he was truly about to act on this, Huayue pinched her own sleeve and asked, inexplicably, “Don’t you think this behavior is too intimate?”

His chopsticks paused; Li Jingyun continued picking up food as if nothing were amiss. “What’s wrong with intimacy? You hold the title of a side consort, after all.”

“But this concubine isn’t truly a side consort either.” She turned to look into his eyes. “When no one else is around, shouldn’t it be little different from master and servant?”

He glanced sideways at her, the corner of his eye full of playful mockery: “What servant would throw away their life for their master?”

Huayue answered earnestly: “This concubine could, for Madam.”

“……”

The joy that had lasted him the whole day was doused cold by this one light remark of hers. Li Jingyun set down his chopsticks, his eyes turning somewhat dark: “Are you trying to make trouble for this lord?”

“This concubine wouldn’t dare.” She lowered her head, her posture as humble as ever. “Only afraid that Young Master might get carried away in a moment and forget the proper bounds, making things difficult to manage afterward.”

“How thoughtful indeed.” He tightened his grip on her waist, his tone turning cold. “But is it that you’re afraid this lord will find it hard to manage, or afraid you yourself will start harboring thoughts?”

Her heart tightened; Huayue offered him a flawless smile: “This concubine naturally knows her proper bounds.”

A fire rose up from somewhere in his chest; Li Jingyun found it absurd. He was already this intimate with her—what right did she have to still speak of proper bounds? So many times of tangled closeness and confused passion—could it be that he alone had been lost in it?

Thinking carefully, it did seem that way… When she’d been drunk, she hadn’t known anything at all.

Closing his eyes, Li Jingyun released his grip.

Huayue quickly stood and moved to the side, serving him rice and dishes: “Please eat something first. You’ve been busy running about all day without a proper meal.”

He picked up his chopsticks without a word, his deep eyes fixed on some spot on the table.

This meal was eaten unusually slowly; Huayue didn’t speak again, and he said nothing further either. After the bowls and chopsticks were cleared away, he raised his eyes to look at her, expression as usual: “You’ll sleep in this room tonight. This lord won’t touch you.”

Huayue nodded and went back to her room to fetch her own bedding.

That evening, Wen Guzhi came by. He looked with relief at the two of them sharing the same room, then spoke gravely: “We’ve found out. It was Han Shuang.”

Li Jingyun sipped his tea calmly: “What was she thinking?”

“Probably wanted to use that red envelope to drive a wedge between the two of you, going for a ‘birds of a shared nest fly their separate ways when disaster strikes’ sort of thing.” Wen Guzhi spread his hands. “Who’d have thought you wouldn’t take the bait.”

“Going to such lengths for a scheme like that—doesn’t she get tired?” Li Jingyun was thoroughly impatient. “Pass word to her too, tell her not to waste her effort. It’s useless.”

“Not that it hasn’t been said before—that one’s just stubbornly set on it, what can be done?” Wen Guzhi sighed. “Though I didn’t expect that little mind of hers could even dredge up matters of the former dynasty. You know how much the Crown Prince taboos that subject—bringing it up would surely cut off your escape route. Quite clever, actually.”

His expression shifted slightly; Li Jingyun suddenly turned his head to glance at Huayue.

The person stood quietly at the partition, seemingly lost in thought, her amber eyes lowered, lashes fluttering gently, like a porcelain doll.

Withdrawing his gaze, he listened as Wen Guzhi continued: “But it’s strange, too—Han Shuang seemed quite certain that little sister-in-law has ties to the former dynasty. The trap she prepared was both vicious and cunning. Once her identity is confirmed, whether it’s the Princess Imperial or His Highness the Crown Prince, neither will likely let her off.”

As he spoke, he turned to ask Huayue: “Little sister-in-law, are you a person of the former dynasty?”

Huayue pinched her hands and glanced at Li Jingyun; the latter nodded at her, signaling she could say as she pleased.

After hesitating a moment, she nodded: “Previously, in the palace… I served masters of the Great Wei.”

“No wonder. I’ve no idea where she got the news—even I didn’t know about this.” Wen Guzhi scoffed and shook his head. “A woman’s jealousy really is a terrible thing.”

“There’s no benefit to letting this get out.” Li Jingyun said. “Suppress it however you can.”

“Understood.” Wen Guzhi nodded. “I’ve an appointment tomorrow to check Han Shuang’s pulse, so I won’t stay longer. You two rest well.”

Li Jingyun saw him to the door; Wen Guzhi turned back and lowered his voice: “Not that I’m one to gossip, Third Young Master, but she’s someone close to you after all—best to ask clearly about anything on your mind sooner, to avoid misunderstandings later.”

Nodding to show he’d heard, Li Jingyun pushed him out the main door.

Huayue stood in place in a daze, as if remembering something, her expression not looking good. He watched her silently, then removed his outer robe and extinguished the lamp.

“This lord will give you one night.” He said calmly. “If you have difficulties, speak them, and this lord will resolve them for you. If you don’t speak, then don’t blame this lord for not helping you when trouble comes.”