A faint trace of the smell of blood still lingered in the air, like a fox’s tail that couldn’t be hidden, conspicuous enough to feel embarrassing.

Huayue pressed herself against the door, not even daring to breathe, rigid and unmoving like a gecko spotted by its natural predator.

Why was Li Jingyun here? Was the lock and chain at the prison just for show? Or was she dreaming, and this person before her was merely an illusion conjured up by her own guilty conscience?

Her lashes trembled, and Huayue glanced at him uneasily. Seeing that he neither spoke nor moved, she hesitantly reached out a hand, wanting to poke him to check.

But the moment her index finger reached his collar, the man moved.

Li Jingyun caught her hand, his eyelids lowering with a faintly disgusted expression. He wiped the bloodstain from between her fingers with his sleeve cuff, brows furrowing tightly. “First time doing this to someone yourself?”

The question came out of nowhere. She didn’t know if it was because she was too nervous, but she found herself answering along with it. “Yes.”

“When you have time, come apprentice under me. I’ll teach you how to do it without getting blood on yourself.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Is he dead?”

“No.”

“Then there’s no need to rush off in a panic.” He finished wiping her hand clean, examined it for a moment, and, satisfied, tucked it into his own palm. “Walk with me slowly.”

She was pulled into the sunlight outside, the light dazzling, making her instinctively raise her sleeve to shield her face. The person walking ahead seemed to notice, and turned his body to the side, his tall frame blocking her entirely into the shade.

Huayue was stunned.

Seeing a scene like this, wasn’t he shocked? Wasn’t he curious? He hadn’t even asked a single question.

Lowering her gaze, she noticed his boots. He must have ridden here on horseback — the sides of his official boots bore faint marks pressed in by the stirrups, and since he’d come in a rush, there was even a smudge of black wall-dust from the prison on his shoulder that he hadn’t bothered to wipe off.

These hurried, urgent traces didn’t match at all with the calm and composed manner he was showing now.

Huayue pressed her lips together and looked up at the back of his head.

“Young Master,” she asked, “how did you get out?”

Without turning back, Li Jingyun answered, “Climbed over the wall.”

Huayue: “…”

The two had already walked out of the post station. She gritted her teeth and pulled him to a stop, saying with some irritation, “The case hasn’t even gone to trial yet — how could you just break out of prison like this? If you’re caught, it counts as fleeing while guilty, and then whatever path back to freedom you had will turn into a dead end. How could you be so foolish!”

Li Jingyun turned his head, his ink-dark eyes glancing sideways at her with a hint of amusement. “You’re allowed to harm the Crown Prince’s guest, but I’m not allowed to escape a prison cell for a bit?”

“How is that the same thing?” She stamped her foot. “No one will find out that I cut off Situ Feng’s arm. But you’re already at the center of attention — if the Princess Imperial finds out, won’t you be sent straight to the executioner’s block?”

The one who moments ago had been the merciless King of Hell of the abyss had now suddenly turned into a fuming little white rabbit, and Li Jingyun watched, deeply gratified, reaching out to smooth back a lock of hair by her temple.

The little rabbit huffed and slapped his paw away angrily. “Coming here without a care for your own life, and yet you don’t even ask why I have a grudge against Situ Feng?”

“You’ve never been willing to tell me the truth. There’d be no point asking.” He looked into her eyes, half-serious and half-joking. “When you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen.”

He clearly already knew everything, yet still pretended to be gentle with her here. Huayue was so exasperated her teeth ground together, wanting to shake his hand off, but no matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t get free of him.

Staring at their clasped hands, she suddenly deflated, her head drooping as she said, “Situ Feng and I have an old grudge. I knew he was going to be exiled and prepared everything in advance at this post station. I figured — he doesn’t recognize my face, and the escorting officers, seeing that he’s still alive, won’t cause any trouble or investigate further. No matter what, I wouldn’t implicate the general’s estate.”

After finishing, she looked up and glared at him again. “You already knew I intended to make a move.”

Li Jingyun laughed lightly, saying in a very good mood, “I was only worried you wouldn’t handle it well, so I had someone keep watch in advance, in case you slipped up so they could clean up after you. Turns out I needn’t have worried — you did quite a clean job.”

He patted her head, saying proudly, “Worthy of being one of my East Courtyard’s own.”

Was this really something worth praising? Huayue didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’d expected Li Jingyun to reprimand her, or perhaps think her cruel and ruthless, and keep her at a wary distance, casting her out of the general’s estate. But he did neither — he’d even been worried about whether she could pull it off cleanly.

Remembering the day he’d been honest with her about Qifeng Tower, Huayue’s expression turned complicated.

He seemed to be slowly opening his heart to her — such an arrogant, shameless person, who had schemed against her, who had threatened her, and yet had sincerely admitted his faults, had truly told her the things she wanted to know, and even, upon discovering she intended to harm someone, had unhesitatingly become her accomplice.

What exactly was this man trying to do?

Seeing the confusion in her eyes, Li Jingyun flicked her forehead. “Let’s go. If we don’t head back soon, I really will become a fugitive fleeing while guilty.”

Her forehead stung, and she rubbed it with a frown as they walked, asking, “Isn’t this already fleeing while guilty?”

“When you came to save me, you knew to bring a wooden board to block the arrows. Do you think I’d be so foolish as to hand my enemies leverage against me?” He laughed with a snort. “No one noticed when I left — there are still people covering for me back in the prison.”

Feeling her chest loosen, Huayue let out a long breath.

The two mounted the horse. Li Jingyun took hold of the reins, still shaking his head with disdain. “You really have no sense at all. If you’d thrown yourself into my arms back there, I’d have been so moved I’d have wept, and vowed on the spot that in this life, there would be no one but you, and I’d never take another wife.”

Gripping the saddle, Huayue rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly the kind of thing that would have me planting a loquat tree for myself.”

“What does planting a loquat tree mean?” he asked, puzzled.

“‘In the courtyard stands a loquat tree, planted by my own hand the year my wife died — now it has grown lush and full.'” Huayue’s expression turned complicated. “What kind of books does Young Master read all day lying on that couch of his?”

His arm pinched around her waist, the voice behind her rather gritted through his teeth: “I read military strategy texts. Who has time to read mournful eulogies like that? And besides, that thing is inauspicious — say it again and I’ll break your legs.”

Just a moment ago he’d been all tender and gentle, and in the blink of an eye he’d turned back into that little troublemaker. Huayue sighed wistfully, yet the corners of her mouth inexplicably curved upward.

What a fine day today was — good for revenge, good for riding double on a horse.

Good for saying one thing while meaning another.

The Long Lin murder case, suppressed by someone unknown, still hadn’t gone to trial. Huayue thought Li Jingyun would remain locked up for quite a while longer, but then something suddenly came up.

It started with Li Jingyun asking her to go to Qifeng Tower to help sort out the accounts.

Huayue didn’t even know how this man’s mind worked — he’d already told her the secret, and now he wanted her involved in the finances too, with the excuse that the general’s estate’s books were handled well and Qifeng Tower had been especially busy lately, so she should go lend a hand.

As the general estate’s household manager and concubine, her work was already more than enough. She’d meant to refuse, but this man matter-of-factly offered her a monthly stipend three times what she earned at the general’s estate.

Was this really about the money? Huayue thought indignantly—

She just happened to enjoy sorting out accounts, and doing one more set was no trouble at all. How could anyone say it was because of the money?

So that day, she sat in the private room at Qifeng Tower, reading through the ledgers.

“The accounts these past few months have been substantial. I’ve gone through them once, and there’s nothing too far out of order,” the manager told her. “It’s just that there’s one bad debt that’s rather large — I’d trouble you to pass word to the owner.”

Huayue carefully examined that entry — well, well, an honored guest: Long Lin, amount owed: three thousand taels.

Pressing a finger to the number, Huayue turned her head to ask, “What was this three thousand taels spent on?”

“Banquets, and rewards given to the girls,” the manager said. “This particular guest doesn’t usually run up debts. It’s just that that day he hosted a banquet for some guests, and it seemed inconvenient at the time, so he had it all put on his tab.”

What kind of guests would warrant spending three thousand taels on entertainment? Huayue thought for a moment, then asked, “The manager here has seen quite a lot in this business — would you happen to recognize who the guests were that day?”

The person before her thought back for a moment, then dipped a finger in tea and wrote a name on the table.

Huayue read it and narrowed her eyes.

The weather in the capital had grown increasingly hot lately, and every household had begun taking afternoon naps — no one bustling about for half an hour after meals.

Except for the Eastern Palace’s Huo Geng.

Huo Geng was merely the Crown Prince’s attendant, and normally had nothing much to do. But for some reason, the Grand Astrologer had suddenly started making trouble for him, not only having him tidy up the altar but also making him scoop all the water out of the fish pond and refill it with fresh water.

He felt he wasn’t really cut out for this kind of work, but since the Grand Astrologer had said so, Huo Geng didn’t dare ask too many questions and could only pitifully scoop water out ladle by ladle.

“Hey, where’s Shen Zhiluo?” Someone approached from a distance, asking him.

Huo Geng looked up with a troubled expression, and upon seeing who it was, his eyes brightened slightly. “Miss Su.”

Su Miao looked around and smiled at him. “Isn’t Lord Shen supposed to be here at the altar? I don’t see him.”

“He’s in the side room over there.” Huo Geng pointed, then added quietly, “The Grand Astrologer’s been in a bad mood for several days now. Please be careful.”

Su Miao nodded gratefully, then glanced at the gourd ladle in his hands. “What are you doing with that?”

Scratching his head in embarrassment, Huo Geng said, “The Grand Astrologer had me scoop all the water out of this pond.”

“…”

Glancing to the side, Su Miao lowered her voice. “Wait a moment.”

She pulled up a lotus stem from the pond, blew into it, watching bubbles rise to the water’s surface, then submerged the entire stem in the water, plugging one end with her thumb and lifting it out to rest against the edge of the pond.

Suddenly, water began gushing out of the lotus stem in a steady stream.

Huo Geng stared, stunned. “What, what’s happening?”

Wiping the water from her hands, Su Miao smiled. “That’s how it works. Just let it flow on its own — you don’t need to scoop anymore.”

With that, she pulled Huayue, who had been standing behind her, and walked toward the side room.

Huayue glanced at her, then looked back at the flushed young man, and couldn’t help but think — if she had a fiancée like Su Miao, she’d want to send everyone her fiancée fancied off to scoop out a fish pond too.

This girl was just too likable.

“Little sister-in-law.” Su Miao turned to ask her. “When you all talk about things later, can I wander around here on my own?”

Huayue came back to herself, a bit puzzled. “Wander where? This concerns Third Young Master — Cousin should come listen too.”

“I don’t really want to see him.” Su Miao said sullenly. “I was in a good mood before and went along with his nonsense, but these past few times I’ve been unhappy about it — I don’t want to indulge him.”

Huayue laughed despite herself. “So there’s a day when Cousin doesn’t feel like seeing Lord Shen.”

“It’s not that I dislike him.” Su Miao wrinkled her nose. “I’m just annoyed — annoyed for the time being, these past few days.”

“There’s something rather serious today, and we’ll need Cousin’s help too. I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with it a bit.” Huayue shook her hand gently. “After we’re done, once we’re back at the estate, I’ll make you some pastries.”

Her expression eased somewhat, and Su Miao reluctantly nodded, going with her into the side room.

Shen Zhiluo, without a trace of hesitation, closed the open window and turned to greet the two of them with an expressionless face.

“Something you need from me?”

Su Miao pointed behind herself and stepped aside. Huayue stepped forward, bowed formally with a hint of distance, and said, “I’d like to ask the Grand Astrologer’s help in filing a complaint.”

“A complaint about what?” he asked, puzzled.

Huayue placed a stack of documents in his hands and looked up. “Minister of Revenue Luo Zhong has been taking bribes.”

Bribery was something nearly everyone at court was tainted with, and Shen Zhiluo wasn’t particularly interested — but since it was her who’d brought it, he still took the documents and looked them over.

And found something the Eastern Palace would find very interesting indeed.

“Concealing the accounts of the Household Management Office,” he mused. “How did you get hold of this?”

Huayue shrugged. “Someone else exposed it. It was sent to me on their own initiative.”

Who would go digging that deep to expose something? Shen Zhiluo’s brow furrowed, but looking at the expression on her face, it was clear she had no intention of telling him.

Somewhat helpless, Shen Zhiluo said quietly, “You’re so guarded against me in every way, yet you still come to me for help?”

“Mutual benefit.” Huayue said bluntly. “Having the Eastern Palace’s people bring this accusation forward would only benefit the Crown Prince, with no harm to him at all.”

At the same time, if Luo Zhong were convicted, then Long Lin would no longer be innocent either.

Staring at her intently, Shen Zhiluo let out a laugh.

Yin Huayue really was rebellious by nature — tell her something couldn’t be done, and she’d insist on doing exactly that. He’d told her that getting involved with Li Jingyun would come to no good, and yet here she was, rushing to save him.

He could refuse this — it had nothing to do with him anyway. But after some thought, Shen Zhiluo still nodded in agreement.

Like a falling petal that couldn’t be stopped, if there were things he couldn’t change, then rather than being a hand grasping at empty air, he might as well be the wind instead.

“Is there anything else?” Shen Zhiluo asked.

Huayue shook her head, glanced at the silent cousin beside her, thought for a moment, and said, “Since I’m already here, might I go see the elderly palace attendant at this altar?”

Shen Zhiluo was startled for a moment, instinctively about to say that the old palace attendant she knew had passed away long ago, but meeting her eyes, he saw her brow furrow slightly.

Don’t argue with me — her look seemed to say.

Not understanding, but swallowing back his words, Shen Zhiluo nodded. “You may.”

So Huayue turned to Su Miao. “Cousin, wait a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Su Miao nodded, sitting in a chair yawning, watching her leave. Then the room held only her and Shen Zhiluo.

She could have gotten up and gone outside to wait for Huayue, but she didn’t move.

After a moment of silence, Su Miao spoke. “Why are you making things difficult for Lord Huo?”

Shen Zhiluo’s face darkened. He turned his back to her and opened the flower-lattice window, looking coldly out at the lotus stem outside, still gushing water endlessly.

“It’s the Crown Prince’s orders. I’m not making things difficult for him.”

Su Miao nodded as if she understood, then said with a mocking smile, “And here I thought you were jealous again.”

Shen Zhiluo gripped the windowsill and said nothing.

Su Miao stretched lazily and stood up, saying casually, “Next month there’s a happy occasion at the Lin family estate — they sent me an invitation. Do you want to come along and see the excitement?”

The Lin family? Shen Zhiluo raised his eyelids slightly. “Is that the young master from the Lin family you said you were considering before?”

Su Miao paused, then laughed. “The one I mentioned before, but not the young master — the young lady.”

The person by the window turned to look at her, full of confusion.

Licking her lips, a hint of triumph at having successfully teased him crept into Su Miao’s eyes. “The Lin family’s young lady is both beautiful and virtuous, gentle and considerate toward me, and her waist is so slim and soft — it feels wonderful to hold. If she were to marry me, that would be simply wonderful.”

“…”

He’d never met a young lady like this before — teasing men wasn’t enough, she had to tease women too. Shen Zhiluo turned away in disdain, though his expression relaxed by two degrees.

Su Miao chuckled and picked up her tea to drink, self-satisfied.

Shen Zhiluo investigated Luo Zhong for several days, then handed the evidence Huayue had given him, along with what he’d found himself, to the Crown Prince.

Since it concerned the Household Management Office, Zhou Heshuo had people investigate thoroughly the moment he received the news. Within two days, it was revealed that the Princess Imperial’s paramour had heavily bribed the Minister of Revenue, altered the accounts, and had concealed a massive sum of missing annual expenses from the Household Management Office behind extensive construction projects, eating away at the national treasury for personal gain.

Where exactly this large sum of silver had gone — if truly investigated, the Princess Imperial naturally could not escape responsibility.

Zhou Heshuo wanted to bring it before the Emperor for judgment, but for some reason, His Majesty had no intention of investigating the Princess Imperial, and only convicted Long Lin of bribing high officials and embezzling from the national treasury, sentencing him to beheading.

Poor Long Lin, dying only to serve as a scapegoat once more, his corpse dragged out and dumped in some unmarked grave.

Once he was convicted, the charges against Li Jingyun grew lighter. Even though the Princess Imperial’s people racked their brains trying to add more charges against him, Li Jingyun still walked out of prison with ease.

Huayue had thought he might be sentenced to exile, or dispatched to the border, but no — Li Jingyun was carried back to the general’s estate in an eight-man palanquin by Xu Changyi and the others, without a single charge weighing on him.

“I knew Third Young Master had a plan all along,” Xu Changyi said, patting the armrest of his tai-shi chair with a laugh. “That Miss Han from the Han family really thought she had you by the throat, even came to flaunt her power in front of us. Little sister-in-law wasn’t there to see it — the day Third Young Master got out of prison, Han Shuang was standing at the gate with the most awful look on her face.”

“Isn’t that the truth. She still wanted the Princess Imperial to step in for her, but the Princess Imperial can’t even take care of herself now — how could she still spare a thought for her?” Liu Chenghe laughed too.

Li Jingyun sat in the seat of honor, seemingly listening to them talk, but his eyes were fixed only on Huayue.

It hadn’t even been that long since he’d last seen her, yet she seemed to have grown thinner — the light blue-green sash had nearly wrapped a third time around her waist, and dark circles had appeared beneath her eyes.

Without him watching over her, sure enough, she wasn’t sleeping enough.

He pressed his lips together in some displeasure.

“Hey, is there any tea?” Xu Changyi, his throat dry from talking, reached out with his cup toward the side.

Huayue smiled and came over to pour him tea.

Su Miao glanced upward, snatched the teapot, and threw it at Xu Changyi instead, saying with a pout, “Have you no sense at all? These two haven’t seen each other in a long time, it’s practically a second wedding night, and you’re still bothering little sister-in-law to pour tea for you?”

“My apologies, my apologies.” Xu Changyi took the teapot and poured his own tea, teasing as he did so, “If Third Young Master has business to attend to, feel free to head to the inner chamber. We’re not outsiders here — whatever sounds we might hear, we’ll just pretend we didn’t.”

The group burst into laughter, all winking and grinning toward the seat of honor. Li Jingyun smiled faintly, and soon he was laughing along with them too.

Huayue laughed as well — what kind of person was the Third Young Master? Strategizing in prison, winning cases in court — with so many people watching, what tender romantic feelings could he possibly be thinking about?

As it turned out, her wrist was suddenly gripped, and she found herself truly pulled into the inner chamber.

The curtain over the partition fell shut behind them; outside, the laughter and jeering grew louder. Huayue stared wide-eyed at the person before her. “You…”

Li Jingyun pressed her against the partition, his half-lowered eyes full of amusement. “I heard you haven’t been eating or sleeping well lately.”

Huayue frowned, stiffening her neck and turning her face away. “The weather’s just getting hotter.”

“And you went to pray for a talisman of safety for me?”

“That was for Madam.” Her ears gradually reddened as she listened to the sounds of table-slapping and applause outside, feeling even more annoyed. “You shouldn’t stand this close.”

Li Jingyun ignored her, lowering his head to nuzzle the tip of his nose gently against the side of her face. “Su Miao came to pick me up, and even she knew to say she missed me. As my concubine, you can’t even manage to say a single kind word?”

What kind words could she say? This man had used her going to Qifeng Tower to gather evidence against Luo Zhong — clearly he’d already planned his way out ahead of time. Only she, the fool, had genuinely worried about his life.

She opened her mouth to interrogate him, but realized how foolish that would sound — wasn’t that just an indirect way of admitting she truly did care about him, just as he’d expected?

Huayue closed her mouth, pressing her lips together tightly.

Outside, Su Miao and the others had started discussing the matter with Han Shuang, and mentioned that Li Jingyun had once saved her life. Huayue heard the phrase “couldn’t help but save her” and paused for a moment, wanting to turn her head to listen more closely, but her chin was suddenly caught in his hand.

Li Jingyun’s palms were broad, his fingers long — though he called it holding her chin, in truth his whole hand practically cradled half her face. He stubbornly turned her to face him, his voice laced with a smile. “Say something nice, and I’ll let you off.”

Huayue wrinkled her nose and asked in a muffled voice, “And if I don’t?”

The person before her abruptly darkened his expression, his sword-like brows shooting up, complaining with great dissatisfaction, “I just got back from an ordeal, and there’s no hot tea, no hot food waiting for me, and if you still won’t even say one kind word, then I’ll—”

He raised his hand high. Huayue instinctively flinched, closing her eyes.

Eyes full of laughter, Li Jingyun lowered his hand instead, cupping the back of her head and pulling her into his embrace, murmuring against the side of her ear, “Then I’ll say it for you to hear.”

A warm breath, carrying a note of suppressed longing, brushed hoarsely against the shell of her ear, like something dropped into warm water, sending ripples spreading outward one after another.

Huayue trembled, wanting to look up at him, but her eyelids suddenly grew warm.

Li Jingyun reached out and covered her eyes with his hand, just as he had done on Luohua Street before. But unlike then, this time there was no blood and no corpse — only his voice, close by her side.

“I’ve missed you.” He seemed a bit at a loss himself, the hand covering her eyes unconsciously stroking back and forth, but he still leaned close to her ear and continued, “There’s no difference between being in prison and out, really — but with you out here, I might as well be out.”