Water spilling over the edge of the wooden tub trickled down onto the copper hoop, leaving a dark streak. The bath powder sitting in the jade dish gave off a delicate fragrance, its warm mist curling up toward the rafters, lush and lingering.

Huayue found herself lost in that lingering warmth for a moment, unable to gather her thoughts.

Li Jingyun’s features were sharp and rugged, quite similar to General Li’s, but different in that where General Li’s eyes always held only solemnity and severity, his own eyes could turn cold and distant one moment, tender and full the next, the ink-black depths shifting as though an entire world lay hidden within.

He had so many secrets and stories. Before, he’d never let her glimpse even a fraction of them, but now, somehow, he was letting her ask.

After a moment’s silence, she spoke as he wished. “Where does young master’s money come from?”

Having asked, she’d already prepared herself for the likelihood that he wouldn’t answer seriously at all.

Instead, Li Jingyun actually answered.

“This one ran away from home at twelve, and was punished with three months without allowance,” he said, tilting his head with a smile, slowly recounting his past.

The spoiled young master, suddenly without pocket money to spend, had finally realized that a real man couldn’t always rely on his family, so he’d decided to sneak out of the household and make his way through the streets of Liangjing.

At first it had been fighting with people. As he fought, eventually no one could beat him anymore, and people started following him around. A twelve-year-old boy, still fondest of candied hawthorn sticks, had gone from street to alley with his gang, a skewer clenched between his teeth the whole way. No one knew whose wild child he was, so naturally no one ever reported him back to the General’s household.

The first sum of money Li Jingyun ever earned was a bounty from the Liangjing magistrate’s office. At the time, the capital had been hunting a vicious murderer on the run, and Li Jingyun, crouched at the mouth of an alley playing finger-guessing games with a candied hawthorn stick in his teeth, had happened to run right into him.

So he’d beaten the vicious fugitive half to death.

It seemed to be from that incident onward that no thugs or hooligans in Liangjing dared challenge him again. Shops and taverns across several streets started paying him tribute.

By fifteen, the third young master had already become a well-known local power in Liangjing — one moment reciting poems praising the emperor while perched on His Majesty’s knee, the next moment cornering someone in a back alley for a solid beating.

That year, when Great Liang conquered Wei and moved the capital to Jinghua, Li Jingyun used the silver he’d saved up over three years to open Qifeng Tower.

“Wait.”

Huayue choked, coughing, asking in shock, “Qifeng Tower?”

The man before her, expression unchanged, calmly repeated, “Yes. Qifeng Tower.”

The largest pleasure house in all of Jinghua, a gilded pleasure-den frequented by officials and nobility, where who knew how much gold was poured onto the dance floors each day, and who knew how many secrets were buried beneath the mandarin duck quilts of its beauties.

Li Shoutian had even once submitted a memorial impeaching it, saying that the young men of Jinghua indulged too freely in sensual pleasures, risking harm to family and state, and that establishments like Qifeng Tower ought to be reined in.

Of course, this impeachment had ultimately gone nowhere, met with unanimous opposition from the court officials.

Given this, everyone knew that Qifeng Tower must have someone powerful backing it.

But who would ever suspect it was the young master of the General’s household himself?

Huayue’s heart raced. She held her breath, watching the man before her, not daring to make a sound.

No wonder he hadn’t taken those two red envelopes seriously; no wonder the shopkeeper at Baolai Pavilion hadn’t dared offend him. A man this reckless — if he hadn’t been born into a General’s household with proper discipline, he might well have torn a hole through the very sky by now.

Her expression must have looked rather dumbstruck, because the man before her let out a soft laugh, then lowered his voice to threaten her playfully. “Only five people in all of Jinghua know this secret. You’re the sixth. If word gets out, this one will go build two fresh graves — one of them yours.”

Huayue snapped back to herself, instinctively asking, “And the other one?”

“The other one’s yours too,” he said. “Someone executed by dismemberment needs two graves.”

Huayue: “…”

She felt a bit wronged. “Young master, you were the one who told this servant to ask. This servant wasn’t so desperate to know this secret to begin with.”

“Mm.” Li Jingyun said this quite openly. “It’s this one who insisted on telling you.”

The fragrance of the bath powder dissolved into the water. He rubbed his own arm, eyelids lifting slightly. “This way, if this one ever developed the intention to harm you, this one wouldn’t come out unscathed either.”

Something shifted faintly at the string of her heart. Huayue glanced at him quickly.

This… what did this mean?

The man before her looked at her steadily, a faint light in his eyes, like a child who had already handed over his entire string of candied hawthorns, waiting earnestly for the other child’s response.

Huayue was caught off guard, her eyelashes trembling, her hand instinctively moving behind her back, lips pressed tight.

She’d thought before that if he were ever willing to be honest with her, she wouldn’t mind opening her own heart to him in return. But back then he hadn’t taken the offer, only brushing her off casually. Now he wasn’t brushing her off anymore, but…

Who knew if this was just another passing whim of his.

Looking away, Huayue picked up the towel beside her and moved around behind him. “The water’s getting cold.”

Li Jingyun fell silent, the back of his head turned toward her, his neck stiff.

The domineering, imperious young master, having finally worked up the nerve to offer someone a way down the ladder, had run straight into her utter obliviousness. Huayue almost felt angry on his behalf, thinking that if he lost his temper again in a moment, she simply wouldn’t argue back.

And yet, after a moment, Li Jingyun only let out a long breath, saying with faint disappointment, “This one really did dote on you for nothing.”

Her body stiffened slightly. Huayue felt inexplicably at a loss.

The towel in her hand was taken from her. Li Jingyun waved a hand. “Go rest. This one will manage alone.”

“Yes.”

After all that back and forth, in the end he still hadn’t let her wash his back. Huayue left and stood in the hallway for a while, letting the breeze blow over her, her eyes full of bewilderment.

What was it Li Jingyun wanted to know?

Or, perhaps, had he already figured out something?

Steam drifted out from the window, wafting hazily over the pomegranate branches in the courtyard. It was already the fifth month, and the pomegranate buds trembled in the night breeze, half-open, half-closed.

The next day.

Huayue got up early to tidy the east courtyard, taking out numerous ornaments from the storeroom to clean and arrange. With her busy at this, only Badou was left to go wake the young master.

And so, true to expectations, Badou ended up with a lump swelling on his forehead.

“Consort Yin.” Badou looked utterly wronged. “Why does young master only hit the rest of us, never you?”

Huayue, polishing a white jade Guanyin figure in her hands, answered without even looking up. “He hits everyone. I just dodge fast.”

The third young master of the Li family was good in every way — it was just this waking-up temper of his that was genuinely terrifying. Huayue gave Badou two crisp pastries to soothe him, then set down the Guanyin figure and walked to the main room.

This particular gentleman hadn’t slept well the night before, and now sat on the edge of the bed, his face full of resentment. The servant beside him, trembling, set down the water basin and fled. He sat there, brows drooping, motionless, propping himself up against the bedframe.

Smiling faintly, Huayue wrung out a towel and went to wipe his face.

“Annoying,” he grumbled, frowning.

Carefully wiping his face clean, Huayue said gently, “It’s nearly time for the midday meal.”

Still radiating irritation, Li Jingyun said coldly, “Skipping one midday meal won’t kill anyone.”

“But today—” She glanced out the window, then laughed softly. “Today the Fifth Prince is coming to visit. Someone will likely come with word any moment, and young master shouldn’t greet a guest looking like this.”

Amid the fog in his mind, three particularly jarring words suddenly cut through. Li Jingyun’s eyes came into focus. He turned to look at the person beside him, his voice hoarse and low. “Him coming — does that make you happy?”

Naturally she was happy. A prince of such standing, placed in the east courtyard, was practically a living Guanyin statue capable of warding off all manner of demons and evil spirits, keeping the peace all around.

Thinking of the Guanyin figure she’d just been polishing, then of Zhou Hemin puffing out his cheeks, Huayue smiled, her eyes curving into crescent moons.

Her happiness was far too obvious.

Li Jingyun turned and lay back down, about to go back to sleep.

“Hey.” Huayue quickly caught hold of him. “Young master, the midday meal has your favorite steamed pork with rice flour.”

Listlessly, he glanced sideways. “Don’t want it.”

“Then, there’s also the pigeon soup this servant made personally,” she said, leaning down, coaxing him softly like a child. “No yam in it, stewed with goji berries instead. The broth’s simmered milky white — you should like it.”

“…” He sat up unhurriedly, glared at her, and grumbled, “Bring this one’s clothes.”

Huayue promptly brought over the silver-threaded beast-motif brocade robe she’d already prepared.

“Not this one.” Li Jingyun waved a hand. “The one from before, the blue carp snow-brocade robe.”

Wasn’t he the one who hadn’t wanted to wear it before? And now he specifically wanted it? Huayue was rather surprised, but still went along with it, finding the robe and dressing him carefully.

“This robe’s color is light, and the fabric’s good quality too,” Li Jingyun remarked casually, looking himself over. “It’s just these boots that don’t quite suit it.”

White-soled, black-faced official boots didn’t quite match this robe. She turned to search around, finding a pair of pale green brocade boots to hand him. “How about these?”

The man before her looked thoroughly displeased, his brow furrowed tight enough to squash a fly.

But with no other option, he still took them and put them on, sitting down to eat his meal in a sulk.

Huayue found it amusing. Usually this gentleman wasn’t one to fuss over his appearance, yet today he was being unusually particular, all his pampered fussiness on full display, finding fault with everything he saw.

A perfectly good table of dishes, and he complained the fish had too many bones to pick through, that the lion’s head meatballs lacked flavor, that the greens were too salty — in the end, he only finished the pigeon soup, drinking it clean.

Then he sat there, eyes cold, glaring at her.

Huayue paid this odd behavior no mind, only occasionally checking the time outside, counting on her fingers.

“That Fifth Prince,” he suddenly said. “He’s decent enough as a person, but moody. Unpredictable.”

“Hm?” She looked back at him, puzzled. “How is he unpredictable?”

From what she’d seen of him, that boy had seemed cheerful enough the whole time.

Taking a deep breath, Li Jingyun looked at her earnestly. “People raised in the imperial household are all a bit off in one way or another. The Fifth Prince’s birth mother died early, and he has no one close to him in the palace — it’s no wonder his temperament turned strange. If you’re smart, you’ll keep your distance from him, or you’ll bring trouble on yourself, and this one will have to come save you.”

“Young master needn’t worry.” Huayue understood his concern and said, quite considerately, “This servant won’t cause any trouble.”

Was this even a question of trouble or not? Li Jingyun gritted his teeth — he’d said all that, and she’d treated it like wind past her ears?

Huayue hadn’t actually ignored it — it was just that the Fifth Prince was young and had been friendly enough to her; she saw no reason to find fault with him. Seeing the gentleman before her looking none too pleased, she assumed he held some personal grudge against the Fifth Prince and hurried to smooth things over. “His Highness is only coming to visit once — it won’t take up much of your time. Young master is older than him; you should be more patient.”

Surely he wouldn’t want to leave the estate today of all days, with a guest already on the way?

Those amber eyes, brimming with concern, left Li Jingyun almost wanting to laugh. What had Zhou Hemin ever done to deserve this — one meeting, and already she cared this much about him. Even Shen Zhiluo hadn’t received this kind of treatment.

He scoffed inwardly, thinking that next time he ran into Shen Zhiluo, he ought to give him a proper hard time about it — what good was writing characters at six or reciting poems at ten, compared to a single glance from a fair-faced, red-lipped young man?

Sneering to himself, he kept his face cold and waited.

Half an hour later, the Fifth Prince arrived at the estate bearing gifts.

A magnificent, finely crafted gold-threaded jade saddle, wrapped in red silk and presented before them, lit up half the room. Zhou Hemin exchanged greetings with Li Jingyun, then sat in the guest seat, smiling at Huayue.

Li Jingyun walked over indifferently, standing between them, and asked, “Does Your Highness have other business to attend to today, visiting the estate like this?”

He’d barely even sat down, and already there was a note of dismissal in the words. Huayue couldn’t help but tug at his sleeve, then leaned forward and said sweetly, “The Fifth Prince mentioned yesterday that he’d very much like the chance to seek young master’s guidance on archery.”

Zhou Hemin: “…”

He looked at her, wanting to say something but holding back. Behind Li Jingyun, Huayue pressed her palms together in a pleading gesture toward him.

Since he’d already come, he couldn’t very well leave right away.

Seeing through her intention, Zhou Hemin sighed inwardly, a flicker of amusement rising in his eyes. “Yes, I’d like to learn how to hit a target from a hundred paces.”

Li Jingyun answered with sincere simplicity, “Just need a pair of hands for that.”

The words had barely left his mouth when someone pinched his arm from behind.

Huayue was thoroughly exasperated — he was courteous enough to everyone else, why did he only ever clash with the Fifth Prince?

He took a sharp breath and turned to glare at her. Huayue glared right back, undaunted, her cheeks puffed out.

Li Jingyun froze for a moment, thinking how this defiant look of hers was something he hadn’t seen in a while — but then, remembering exactly what she was defying him over, he couldn’t quite feel pleased about it.

An ungrateful wretch, turning traitor at the first pretty face — Zhou Hemin hadn’t even grown all his hair yet, so what exactly had caught her eye?

He let out a muffled grunt, lowering his gaze. “There’s a target in the courtyard we usually shoot at for practice. Would Your Highness care to try?”

“Sure.” Zhou Hemin rose obligingly and walked out with him.

Badou brought over his usual bow and arrows. Li Jingyun took it, drawing it back with ease, hitting the bullseye squarely. He turned the bow over, handing it to the person beside him with a smile. “Your Highness.”

For a moment, Zhou Hemin caught a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

Li Jingyun’s depth of calculation ran unfathomably deep. In the past, whenever they’d met, he’d always stood beside Crown Prince brother, smooth and accommodating. But now, holding the bow and looking at him, he radiated an air of open hostility.

Like a fine luminous pearl that had suddenly sprouted thorns.

Zhou Hemin raised an eyebrow, glanced at him, then at Huayue standing off to the side, blinking his eyes as if catching on to something.

Then he took the bow, his face twisting into a look of distress. “This is way too heavy.”

“Your Highness is still young — trying it once is enough. No harm if you can’t draw it,” Huayue said softly. “Young master’s bow is one he brought back from the training grounds.”

Hearing this, he smiled and stood up straight, pulling with all his strength. Just as he reached halfway, his wrist trembled, and the bowstring snapped back with a sharp twang.

Li Jingyun scoffed, about to remark that what kind of man couldn’t even draw a bow — but before he could get the words out, the person beside him had already rushed forward to catch the bow, asking with visible concern, “Is Your Highness alright?”

Zhou Hemin cradled his wrist, his expression not entirely relaxed.

Huayue quickly said, “Should I call for a physician?”

“No need.” He grimaced, glancing mournfully at the bow now in her arms.

Huayue promptly shoved the bow into Badou’s hands, then turned to Li Jingyun. “Young master, the Fifth Prince’s constitution is delicate — let’s go play chess inside instead.”

A vein twitched at Li Jingyun’s temple.

An inexplicable surge of anger rose within him. He forced it down, smiling through gritted teeth. “The Fifth Prince has important business to attend to as a person of noble standing — why trouble him further?”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Zhou Hemin said with a smile. “I’ve nothing else to do today. I came specifically to learn from the third young master. Crown Prince brother always praises how accomplished you are in both scholarship and martial arts — I really ought to learn a thing or two.”

The boy, his face still carrying the innocence of youth, spoke with such measured sincerity. And yet, inexplicably, Li Jingyun found himself unsettled — the moment their eyes met, the fire in his chest rose another two notches.

“Fine.” He flicked his sleeve, saying through gritted teeth. “Chess it is, then.”

Huayue eagerly brought over the chessboard and poured two cups of fine tea.

Li Jingyun glanced at the tea and said coldly, “This one doesn’t drink this. Switch it for a cup of Biluochun.”

“Yes.” Huayue, already accustomed to his pickiness, immediately moved to take his cup away without a word.

“Wait.” Zhou Hemin stopped her, smiling gently. “You went through the trouble of brewing it — it’d be a shame to pour it out. Leave it here with me; I’ll drink both cups.”

Huayue hesitated, but he had already reached over and taken the cup, brushing aside the tea leaves and taking a sip, then said appreciatively, “This brewing skill rivals even what they have in the palace.”

Now that was more like it — Huayue was delighted, her smile brightening two shades further. “Please enjoy it, Your Highness. This servant will go rebrew young master’s tea.”

It had probably been a long time since anyone had praised her like that; even her retreating steps carried a note of lightness. She turned and left, her skirt swaying like a butterfly fluttering out the door.

Zhou Hemin watched her go with a smile, then picked up a black stone and set it down on the board.

“Third young master is rather harsh on his own concubine.”

Li Jingyun’s eyes were listless. He set down a white stone, making a crisp clack. “What makes you say that?”

“In most households, a concubine refers to herself as ‘this concubine.’ But the one in your household calls herself ‘this servant.'” Zhou Hemin shook his head. “Quite the sharp distinction you draw.”

“…” Struck by this observation, Li Jingyun glanced toward the empty doorway, brow furrowing slightly.

He’d known something felt off. When exactly had she gone back to calling herself a servant, of all things?

With this thought lodged in his mind, he still wasn’t willing to show weakness on the surface. Drawing his gaze back, he placed a white stone and said flatly, “She was originally a servant. It’s only natural that the habit’s hard to shake off overnight.”

Zhou Hemin carefully arranged his stones, seemingly unbothered by this excuse.

Li Jingyun’s expression turned even darker.

Huayue returned before long, setting the fresh tea back down by his hand. He glanced at her, drank it, and said nothing more.

The game on the board shifted and turned, back and forth, neither side yielding.

Huayue stood to the side, clapping supportively, then asked curiously, “Your Highness, why would you cut off your own path like that?”

There had clearly been other viable moves available.

Zhou Hemin straightened his black stones and looked up, laughing. “Doesn’t this move win me the game?”

Win how? Huayue and Li Jingyun frowned in unison, studying the board, unable to see it.

Pinching his wide sleeve, Zhou Hemin elegantly extended two fingers, pointing to five connected black stones in a row. “Five in a row — naturally, I’ve won.”

Li Jingyun: “…”

“Young master, please don’t be angry.” Huayue quickly leaned in, smiling ingratiatingly at him, lowering her voice. “His Highness is still young.”

He said good-naturedly, “Why are you so nervous?”

“This servant’s afraid young master will get angry,” she said, her brows curving as she looked into his eyes.

Li Jingyun asked, amused, “Which eye of yours sees this one getting angry?”

“Good thing you’re not angry, then.” Pressing down on the chess table with all her strength, Huayue pouted. “Then would you mind letting go? The person across from you is a dragon’s son — flipping this table and throwing it at him wouldn’t do, that’d only cause trouble.”

The veins on the back of his hand bulged. Li Jingyun gripped the underside of the table, thoroughly indignant. He suspected Zhou Hemin had come today specifically to provoke him — and what was even more infuriating was that the little traitor before him had already gone so far as to turn her loyalties, all to protect this other man.

A hint of wronged sorrow crept into his eyes as he looked at her softly. “This one clearly won.”

“Alright, alright, young master won.” Huayue bowed to him. “This servant was watching the whole time — young master’s chess skill is unmatched.”

Li Jingyun released the table, resentment unresolved.

Huayue quickly brought out refreshments for the two of them.

“Young master.” Badou ran in from outside, cupping his hands to report. “There’s a servant from the Liu household requesting an audience.”

The Liu household? Li Jingyun glanced at Zhou Hemin, then rose to receive them in the side room. Huayue gently invited the Fifth Prince to enjoy the refreshments, then followed along to see what was happening.

“Third young master!” Changye entered and immediately dropped to his knees, his expression frantic, speaking fast but clearly, “My master’s gotten into a fight at Qifeng Tower, and it’s not looking good — he sent me to inform third young master at once.”

Broad daylight, and someone still dared to touch his own people on his own turf? Li Jingyun laughed and swept his sleeve, ready to leave.

Huayue instinctively grabbed his hand.

His hand softened at her touch. Li Jingyun turned back, frowning. “This one has business to attend to. You can’t stand in the way.”

“Young master, please bring more men,” she said, suppressing the panic in her heart, her expression serious. “Better to be prepared.”

The third young master had walked the rivers and lakes his whole life without ever needing numbers on his side — asking him to bring people along would be practically insulting him. Li Jingyun laughed coldly, pulled free of her, and strode out the door.

Huayue followed him out, but hadn’t gone two steps before he’d already left her behind. Knowing there was no point trying to stop him now, she turned and rushed back into the main room, pulling the still-snacking Fifth Prince to his feet.

“How many guards did you bring with you today?” she asked, her eyes intense.

Zhou Hemin, startled nearly into choking, pressed a hand to his chest. “Twenty.”

“Forgive this servant’s boldness,” she said, forcing a smile, her eyes full of urgency, “but could we go catch up with young master? Your Highness’s status is precious — if you’d rather not risk danger, lending this servant your guards would also be appreciated.”

His brow lifted slightly, and Zhou Hemin smiled again. This woman really was like this — despite calling herself a servant to draw such a clear line between herself and him, the moment he was truly in danger, she was more anxious than anyone.

In his heart, Li Jingyun was probably that piece of peanut candy to her — a shame to throw away, yet impossible to fully swallow either.

Pulling his sleeve free from her grip, he said slyly, blinking at her, “The guards can be lent. But I’m coming along too.”

“But you’ll have to agree to one condition.”