Hearing him say the words “betrothed,” light suddenly bloomed in Su Miao’s eyes, like peach blossoms unfurling their embrace, like romantic sentiment sweeping across the mountains. She raised her hand to cover the back of his, her cool fingertip tapping lightly on the vein bulging on the back of his hand.

“You’re jealous of me again.” Her coquettish voice carried a soul-stirring flirtatiousness.

Shen Zhiluo’s face darkened; his light purple pupils showed ten parts pure disgust: “I’m not.”

She giggled, not arguing with him either, her scallion-white fingertip pointing at the wine jar beside her, and in the blink of an eye had broken its seal.

“Miss.” Someone came over to gently dissuade her. “No one drinks like this. It hurts the body. If you want to drink a little, we still have peach blossom wine here, much milder than this strong liquor.”

Shen Zhiluo raised his eyes to look over, and saw a handsome young attendant from the front hall approaching, bending down to coax her gently: “Let me pour you some? It’s sweet, quite good.”

Su Miao stared at him blankly, then suddenly softened her voice into a coquettish tone: “Little brother, so kind, gentle and considerate, and such a pleasant voice too.”

The attendant’s ears flushed red at this praise. Su Miao pulled him to sit down, then patted the wine jar gently: “Keep me company for a couple cups?”

He’d never met such a delightful young lady before; the attendant wanted to say he was still busy, but looking at her honey-sweet smile, he couldn’t bear to refuse, and sat down instead, switching out the strong liquor by her hand, and bringing her a couple pieces of pastry as well.

Su Miao watched, amused, her eyes rippling as she asked, “Is your Qifeng Tower always this thoughtful with guests?”

Like fireworks blooming before his eyes, this young lady’s beauty was extraordinary. The attendant retreated two steps, blushing, and said with lowered head, “No, not really—it’s just that seeing you’re not in good spirits, Miss, we won’t charge you for these.”

“I see.” She hugged the plate of pastries, her fox-like eyes curving. “Thank you, little brother, then.”

The attendant nodded haphazardly and left with unsteady steps.

Dipping a fingertip into the sugar frosting on the pastry, Su Miao licked it with the tip of her tongue and turned back with a smile: “This is actually pretty good.”

A cold darkness in his eyes, Shen Zhiluo gathered his sleeves and stood straight, saying indifferently: “Eat your fill, then.”

With that he swept his sleeve, and starlight flickered before her eyes for a moment as he swept out like clouds parting for the sky, walking very fast, carrying a hint of anger, vanishing around the corner in moments.

Chin propped on her hand, Su Miao watched, entranced, and laughed: “All the fine colors of Qifeng Tower can’t compare to his brow and eyes when he’s angry. Tsk, truly pitiable and lovable.”

Her attendant maid Muyu listened numbly, feeling that her mistress had quite a grave misunderstanding of the phrase “pitiable and lovable.”

“Are you still going to drink?” Muyu glanced toward the main door. “The Grand Diviner’s going to get far away.”

“Let him go then.” She waved her hand carelessly, calling over two more girls to accompany her drinking, her eyes brimming with seductive charm. “Today, either he comes to fetch me, or I’ll drink myself to death right here.”

No need for that, Muyu kept shaking her head—everyone knew the Grand Diviner had no place for her in his heart, and her mistress knew it too. Shen Zhiluo only agreed to this marriage out of consideration for the Crown Prince and the Third Young Master—why would he care whether she lived or died.

Outside the main gate of Qifeng Tower, Shen Zhiluo spotted Chang Gui by his own carriage.

He wore coarse cloth clothing, his face plastered with a haphazard beard and a scar, making his original features utterly unrecognizable. But Shen Zhiluo recognized his eyes—those eyes that survived on three parts hatred alone.

Stopping in his tracks, he asked, “Something the matter?”

Chang Gui had already made peace with him and no longer harbored as much hostility toward him now; he only extended a hand with a half-smile, half-mockery: “The seal.”

Shen Zhiluo drew a stack of stamped papers from his sleeve and handed them over.

“Quite stingy, indeed.” Muttering, Chang Gui took the papers, then glanced back toward Qifeng Tower. “You’re just going to leave her here?”

Sidestepping him toward the carriage, Shen Zhiluo said flatly, “Not your business to manage.”

“Not that this humble one wants to interfere with anything.” Chang Gui reached out and pressed against his carriage curtain, half-narrowing his eyes. “Since the East Palace has already grown suspicious of you, wouldn’t it be better to complete the marriage with her sooner? With the General’s Residence as cover, it would be more convenient for both of us going forward.”

A flash of malice crossed his violet pupils; Shen Zhiluo raised his eyes in the dim, shadowy carriage compartment, his gaze like feathers dipped in poison.

Chang Gui, seeing this, didn’t seem afraid at all, but rather grew more delighted. He clapped his hands: “Even the Grand Preceptor who knows destiny inevitably has moments of being played by his own fate. No use glaring at me—clever as you are, you naturally know what to do.”

The compass spun once; he reached out and pressed it still. Shen Zhiluo lowered his eyes, an irritable air suddenly welling up through his whole body.

Chang Gui released his hand and quickly darted away, laughing as he retreated, laughing until tears nearly came out.

Someone once said that the fate of Great Wei rested entirely in Shen Zhiluo’s hands alone—that he commanded the winds and rains, and knew the cycles of heavenly destiny. As long as he was around, Great Wei would surely flourish for a hundred years.

But no dynasty ever rules the world forever, and no mortal can truly defy fate and alter destiny.

He, Shen Zhiluo, was, after all, just an ordinary man.

Laughing harder and harder, Chang Gui braced himself against the street wall and coughed up a couple mouthfuls of blood, wiping it away with his hand, smearing it entirely across that stack of papers.

Shen Zhiluo sat in the carriage for a good while, then still turned back to Qifeng Tower.

Su Miao was already quite drunk, hugging a slender-figured songstress, burying her face in the woman’s chest, murmuring, “Sister, you smell so nice.”

The songstress, flustered by her, flushed at the cheeks, stammering, unsure what to say. Seeing someone approach, she hastily turned her head: “My lord!”

Shen Zhiluo looked at the person buried in her chest, disgust unmistakable in his eyes despite his effort to conceal it.

Catching that peculiar fragrance about him, Su Miao wriggled and lifted her face from the soft bundle, her eyes at the corners brimming with a fox-like charm: “Ah, you did come back after all.”

She licked her lips and extended a hand toward him: “I really can’t drink anymore. Any more and I’ll die in this tender warmth of soft jade. Take me home, won’t you?”

Shen Zhiluo very much wanted to know how she managed to look full of springtime longing while gazing at his cold, disdainful face.

He held out his compass toward her, meaning to tell her his hands were full, and if she wanted to go home she should get up herself.

Su Miao instead reached out directly and grabbed the compass he’d extended toward her.

The compass representing the mountains and marshes exchanging vital energy, thunder and wind clashing together—she gripped it like a mere block of wood, her slender fingers pressing white against its surface, her round, delicate nails digging into the raised protrusion at the first line, hoisting herself up by force.

With a “click,” the first line broke free from the compass and fell alone to the floor.

Shen Zhiluo: “……”

“What fell?” Su Miao looked down in a daze, then raised her head with a smile. “Never mind, let’s go home.”

She stepped forward to hug his arm; Shen Zhiluo swept his sleeve to dodge, bending down to pick up that small fallen piece, his light purple pupils brimming with fury.

Su Miao didn’t notice; she reached out to embrace him again, gripping his arm, smiling at him foolishly and sweetly.

The first line lay in his palm, no longer able to be reattached to the compass; Shen Zhiluo clenched his teeth tightly, and, mercilessly, almost brutally, flung her aside.

With a “thud,” Su Miao’s head knocked against the wooden armrest of the chair.

Her body froze; a brief moment of clarity flashed in her eyes.

“Miss!” Muyu was startled and hurried to pull her up.

A red mark bloomed on her forehead; when Su Miao raised her eyes again, she still looked drunk, her gaze hazy, staring at Shen Zhiluo as if gazing at a distant mountain.

“Forget it. I can find my own way home.”

Rubbing her temple, she stood up straight and waved her hand freely: “Not that I particularly need you anyway.”

Reeking of wine and carrying a trace of peach blossom fragrance, Su Miao waved her purse over to the innkeeper, pulled Muyu along, and walked out, her skirt hem fluttering, like an untethered peach blossom fairy coming and going as she pleased.

Yet the peach blossom fairy felt quite wronged; she swayed her way home the whole road back, and collapsed onto her bed, eyes wide open.

Muyu watched her, full of worry.

Su Miao wanted to sleep, but even by the time dawn broke, her eyes hadn’t closed once, just staring blankly at the bed canopy.

Things weren’t looking good; Muyu hurried outside anxiously, wanting to fetch a physician.

Unexpectedly, passing by the small west gate, she ran into the Third Young Master and Madam Yin climbing back over the wall.

Just then the morning light was breaking, the dawn glow just beginning to color the sky. The Third Young Master, who usually kept to himself, was carrying someone as he leaped down from atop the wall, and got caught red-handed by Wangfu.

The fierce Wangfu opened its mouth ready to bite, but the moment its teeth were bared, a familiar-smelling person was thrust in front of its face.

Recognizing the young lady it liked, Wangfu’s growl, already on the verge of erupting, turned into a toothless “awoo?”

Li Jingyun snorted coldly, pulling the person back into his embrace, and made an exaggerated, deserving-of-a-beating mouth shape at it—this lord!

“……”

Muyu thought, when fetching the physician for her mistress, perhaps she should have the Third Young Master take a look too.

Huayue, pressed into his embrace, asked with considerable discomfort, “Young Master, can I get down now?”

Li Jingyun clicked his tongue and said while walking, “You think this lord wants to carry you? You’re heavy.”

Even as he said this, his hands showed no sign of loosening.

Huayue struggled, torn between laughter and tears: “If I’m heavy, let this concubine walk on her own.”

“Your footsteps are heavy—this lord’s afraid you’ll wake up the servants in the residence.”

This reasoning actually made some sense; Huayue nodded thoughtfully, then, turning her face, immediately spotted the servants nearby staring at them dumbfounded.

Huayue: “……”

Muyu: “……”

Li Jingyun coolly released his grip; Huayue jumped down to the ground, smoothed out her skirt, and put on a composed smile: “So early, hm?”

Muyu bowed to them, still somewhat dazed, and murmured instinctively, “This servant is going to fetch a physician for Miss.”

“Cousin Su is ill?”

Muyu nodded then shook her head, saying with difficulty, “This servant doesn’t know if a physician will even help.”

Huayue was startled, her gaze drifting toward the West Courtyard.

Su Miao was a young lady who’d grown up among boys, having gone with Li Jingyun to play in the sand at the training grounds since childhood, so her constitution was extremely sturdy—even if she wanted to act delicate and pretend illness like Lin Daiyu, she simply couldn’t manage it.

The moment Huayue stepped through the door, she happened to catch Su Miao getting out of bed to drink water, lifting an entire teapot to pour straight into her mouth, not even bothering with a cup.

“Cousin Su.” Her gaze swept down, landing on her bare jade-white feet.

Her toes curling back, Su Miao rolled straight back onto the bed, glanced at her, then at her own cousin following behind with an impatient expression, and asked in surprise, “So early in the morning, what are you two here for?”

“You dare ask?” Li Jingyun entered and casually sat down, back facing her. “Up all night causing mischief again, what for.”

Su Miao looked toward Muyu, who silently buried herself behind the gauze curtain.

Letting out a soft sigh, she gathered a handful of her loose dark hair and muttered, “Not sleeping is your business too?”

Huayue took out a silver comb and casually gathered her hair into a bun, pinning it aslant with the comb.

“The kitchen should have prepared lotus seed and white fungus soup today, along with eight-treasure porridge and jujube cake. Is there anything Cousin Su would like to eat?” She lowered her head, gentle and patient. “If none of that appeals to you, there’s also rib noodles—thick, chewy noodles with braised ribs poured over top, quite tasty too.”

Su Miao hadn’t been hungry, but hearing this description, her stomach growled loudly. She swallowed and muttered, “The noodles our family’s cook makes are always sticky and clumped.”

“If Cousin Su wants some, I’ll go make it for you—it won’t be sticky.” Reaching over to smooth her hair, Huayue asked gently, “Do you want some or not?”

Her nose twitching, Su Miao looked at her for a moment, then suddenly cried “Waah” and threw herself forward to hug her: “Sister-in-law—”

Startled, Li Jingyun turned to look, and saw that little troublemaker hugging his woman, rubbing her face hard against her chest.

“Su Miao.” His face darkened by half. “Let go.”

“I won’t.” Su Miao twisted her body and cried, rubbing all the while. “This world is full of coldness and heartlessness, only sister-in-law treats me like a treasure. Sister-in-law, don’t stay with my cousin, come be with me instead…”

His temple twitching, Li Jingyun strode forward and grabbed her arm, meaning to pull her away.

“Waaah—” This time Su Miao was truly crying, tears and snot streaming as she gripped Huayue’s hand, wailing pitifully, “Sister-in-law~”

She’d been born beautiful to begin with, and when she acted coquettish like this, even the gods couldn’t resist. Huayue’s heart softened along with it; she reached out and swatted away Li Jingyun’s grasping hand, pulling Su Miao close instead: “There, there, don’t cry. Tell me whatever’s wrong.”

Li Jingyun: “……”

He thought Su Miao must have some kind of problem—a grown young lady, why did she still need to act so coquettish. Acting coquettish with someone else would be one thing, but Huayue barely knew her, and yet she held onto her that tightly.

What was even more absurd was that toward him, Yin Huayue guarded herself with utmost caution, yet now she held Su Miao close as if holding some treasure, not minding at all as the girl rubbed against her, even taking out a cloth to wipe her face, her amber eyes unreasonably gentle.

Being jealous of a woman over another woman was already absurd, Li Jingyun thought.

What was even more absurd was that he was jealous quite heavily.

Pulling a stool over to sit by the bed, he glared coldly at Yin Huayue, wanting her to take the hint and quickly release the girl to coax him instead.

As it turned out, this person didn’t even raise her head, asking on her own in a low voice, “Who bullied you?”

Su Miao pursed her lips, her nose tip flushed red: “Shen Zhiluo.”

Giving a cold laugh, Li Jingyun said, “He can bully you? One punch from you could knock his frail little frame apart.”

The two women on the bed simultaneously turned to glare at him.

Li Jingyun shut his mouth.

Huayue sighed, wiping her face while saying, “That Lord Shen is just someone who doesn’t know how to cherish people. Back in the palace, he never had any palace maids by his side, and even his eunuchs got switched out every month, not a single person close to him.”

Su Miao asked between sobs, “Then why is he so familiar with sister-in-law?”

Instinctively glancing at Li Jingyun, and finding his gaze not particularly friendly, Huayue pressed her lips together, answering vaguely: “The master I once served had some acquaintance with him before, so we’re somewhat familiar with each other’s faces too.”

Merely familiar with each other’s faces—how could that possibly explain Shen Zhiluo coming to find her again and again?

Su Miao sighed inwardly, but couldn’t bear to press Huayue further, only sniffling a couple more times, rubbing against her shoulder again.

Huayue said with some reluctance: “If you really can’t bear it, think of another way. The General’s Residence is a distinguished household—you won’t lack for marriage prospects.”

“The engagement is already set—if I break it off, wouldn’t that make me look heartless and cold?” Su Miao muttered. “Besides, this marriage was made on a bet.”

Li Jingyun’s heart sank; instinctively he wanted to clamp a hand over her mouth.

But it was already too late. Su Miao blurted right out: “Cousin said it—if I could get Shen Zhiluo to Guanshan and keep him occupied there the whole day, he’d give me his beloved blood-sweating horse.”

“……”

The gauze curtain fluttered in the wind, and the silk tassels hanging from the jade hook swayed along with it.

Outside the window, servants swept up the fallen flowers from the night before, the broom scraping rhythmically, rustling.

Huayue thought back to the day she’d been at the end of her rope, with Shen Zhiluo walking off with Su Miao before her eyes, and Li Jingyun standing behind, watching the show unfold.

What had he said back then?

—That’s right, even if this lord wanted to marry someone else right now, there won’t be anyone stepping forward to volunteer for a while yet.

If unintentional, it might have simply been a self-mocking remark. But if all of this had been planned by him, then who was that remark meant for?

In the silent room, Yin Huayue slowly turned her head to look at the person sitting beside her.

A flicker of loss crossed Li Jingyun’s eyes, but only for that instant; he composed his expression and returned her gaze evenly, his eyes showing not a trace of guilt or shame.

“What?” He said. “This lord let Su Miao pursue the person she likes, and promised her something as a dowry once it succeeds—what’s wrong with that?”

Huayue fell silent, staring at his ink-black eyes for a long while, then smiled: “Nothing wrong at all.”

“Of course Young Master would never do anything wrong.”

Even if he’d casually sacrificed his own cousin’s happiness, even if he’d used Su Miao to draw Shen Zhiluo away when she’d needed help, even if he might have been enjoying her helplessness and desperation all along.

But he was the Young Master—even when he was wrong, he wasn’t wrong.

Her chest rising and falling slightly, Huayue pressed her lips together, offering an utterly perfect, forced smile, then looked away.

The atmosphere suddenly felt off; Su Miao, having wiped her face dry, pinched her hand: “Sister-in-law, did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Huayue said in a low voice, “Don’t mind me on Cousin Su’s account. The mistress of the house has no need to apologize to a servant.”

His jaw tightening, Li Jingyun was somewhat annoyed: “What nonsense are you spouting.”

“Would Cousin Su like to eat noodles, or sleep?” She seemed not to hear him speaking, still asking Su Miao softly.

Su Miao glanced at her own cousin, swallowing nervously: “Noo… noodles?”

“Then I’ll go make them. Please wait a little while.”

Nodding respectfully, Huayue rose and walked out, and as she passed by Li Jingyun, his hand seemed to reach out for a moment.

But she had just then folded her hands together over her belly, and only their fingertips brushed past each other.

A low curse sounded behind her; she didn’t pay it close attention, and stepped out into the morning light beyond the door.

Li Jingyun sat where he was, an oppressive air about him, his eyes carrying blades, stabbing them one by one into Su Miao.

Su Miao clutched her head and wailed: “What’s going on? I didn’t even say anything. Cousin, think about it yourself—it must be something you did wrong.”

“Nonsense.” Li Jingyun said resentfully, in a low voice. “If this lord hadn’t done anything wrong, would she be putting on such a face at me? This lord would’ve already taught her a lesson.”

“Tsk—” Su Miao clicked her tongue, shaking her head repeatedly. “I knew you weren’t a good thing. Sister-in-law’s such a wonderful person, how did she suddenly become your concubine? Confess honestly—did you trick her again?”

“I didn’t.” He answered rapidly.

Su Miao narrowed her eyes, staring at him with full suspicion.

“Fine.” Li Jingyun took a step back. “There’s a little of that, but she shouldn’t have found out this fast. Right now she’s angry with me, probably just because she’s unhappy I’m matching you up with Shen Zhiluo—no other reason.”

Su Miao pursed her lips: “Ah, does sister-in-law like Shen Zhiluo too?”

“Is she blind? She doesn’t like him at all. Someone like Shen Zhiluo, only someone like you could fall for.” Li Jingyun sneered.

Rolling her eyes, Su Miao said, “If sister-in-law doesn’t like Shen Zhiluo, then why are you so anxious to matchmake me with him?”

His throat catching, he turned his head away, kicking irritably at the low stool nearby.

“Shameless.” Su Miao hugged the blanket. “You’ve always been like this since childhood—when you want something, you never say it directly, always going around in circles to scheme your way to get it. If it were some object, fine, but sister-in-law is a living, breathing person. If I were her I’d be angry too—how did she end up caught by such a scoundrel like you.”

His spine stiffening slightly, Li Jingyun turned to look at her.

Su Miao got scared and pulled the blanket up over her head, saying muffled and nasal, “My mood isn’t good either, let me say this upfront—if you dare hit me, I’ll go tell sister-in-law bad things about you.”

Li Jingyun didn’t move to strike her.

On that face of his that habitually carried arrogance and disdain, a rare trace of melancholy appeared, like the blazing sun sinking behind mountains, like blue mist spreading over the sea.

“You women.” He spoke in a low voice, his eyes cold, his fingers unconsciously rubbing at his sleeve cuff. “What kind of person do you women generally like?”

Su Miao found this quite novel; she poked her head out to look at him, and after sizing him up for a moment, laughed: “Well now, cousin, has your day of reckoning finally come?”

“No.” He said stiffly. “Just asking casually.”

Too lazy to argue with him further, Su Miao sat up and said matter-of-factly, “Women like considerate men—giving jewelry and clothes for no particular reason, taking them to watch operas when there’s time, and ideally someone who understands fate and gossip too, with a pair of light purple eyes.”

He’d listened attentively to everything up to this point, but at that last item, Li Jingyun drew his soft sword from his sleeve.

“But—” Su Miao quickly grabbed hold of him, adding hastily, “But sister-in-law is different.”

“What she’s missing definitely isn’t jewelry, clothes, or purple eyes.”

Li Jingyun sheathed his soft sword, crossing his arms to look at her.

Su Miao thought for a while, then sighed: “I think what she lacks is someone to dote on her. Don’t look at how efficient and clean she seems handling matters usually—deep down she’s just as much a little girl as I am. Madam dotes on her, and she gives her whole heart back to Madam in return. If you truly cherish her sincerely, she won’t be able to run from you.”

“But the question is—” her gaze fell to his chest, tilting her head as if half-mocking, half-serious, “—sincerity, do we even have that kind of thing?”

The man before her fell silent for a moment, his expression turning somewhat unpleasant.

“That’s a question you might as well ask her instead.” After a long pause, he said. “This lord suspects she doesn’t have it either.”

Su Miao’s eyes widened in shock.

That cousin of hers, so overbearing and domineering, as if the whole world were beneath his feet, was now sitting there with a straight face, saying to her with a faint trace of grievance, “This lord treats her so well, and she still hasn’t said she’d make this lord rib noodles.”

Thick, chewy noodles, poured with braised ribs on top.