The moment Li Jingyun stepped outside, he sensed something was off with Yin Huayue. Her face still wore its usual smile, but her mind seemed unsettled.
He turned to study her sideways and saw that she was wearing a lake-blue dress patterned with flowers and butterflies today, a kingfisher-feather hairpin studded with pearls in her hair, her hands folded demurely before her. Her posture was still dignified, but those clear eyes kept darting left and right restlessly, like black pearls rolling around in a little silver box.
After a moment’s thought, Li Jingyun sighed and took her hand. “I know you’re not comfortable about this, not wanting to go to the Han residence. But last time, when the household held the memorial rites, the Han family sent people too. By propriety, we ought to go and return the courtesy.”
Huayue had been lost in her own thoughts, and his words left her rather dazed. “Hm? Oh—yes, we should go.”
Look at that, so heartbroken she’d lost herself entirely. Li Jingyun held her small hand, feeling unusually guilty—blaming himself for being so devastatingly handsome and universally adored that these young ladies were all vying for his affection, causing her needless heartache.
What a sin, what a sin.
Softening his tone, he leaned close to her temple. “This trip, I’m also going to see Han Shuang about something. But since you’re not comfortable, I’ll have a chair brought for you so you can sit and listen nearby, how about that?”
What business could he possibly have with Han Shuang? Huayue didn’t understand, but seeing his profound, confident expression, she blinked in confusion and simply decided not to ask, waiting to hear it for herself.
The moment the two of them entered the Han residence, they were led to Han Shuang’s embroidery tower. Along the way, Li Jingyun kept comforting her. “You’re the young mistress of the General’s residence now. Naturally you come before any outsider. Never mind her breaking one leg—she could break eight and I still wouldn’t feel a shred of pity—”
Before he finished speaking, a scream tore out from the embroidery tower above.
Li Jingyun froze, his expression sharpening at once, eyes turning sharp and cold as he looked up toward the tower.
Huayue instinctively grabbed his sleeve.
“Wait here for me a moment.” He looked up at the tower, eyes narrowing slightly, and squeezed her hand. “Something’s happened.”
Checking the timing, Huayue drew a sharp breath of cold air, immediately grabbing his hand back and forcing a delicate, frightened cry from her throat. “I’m scared.”
It sounded convincing enough, but anyone who knew Manager Yin knew better—the servants at the residence called her “Iron Lady” behind her back. She’d endured even Li Shoutian’s scolding without flinching. What was there for her to fear?
Li Jingyun only took it as a young girl’s fretful nature and gently pushed her aside with a wave of his hand.
The scream had barely ended before the servants below were already rushing up. If he went up too, Feng Zixi would have no path left to escape. Huayue bit her lip and, disregarding her own standing, stepped forward to block him. “You just said I come before any outsider.”
But could this really be the same thing? Han Shuang still had information in her mouth that he needed—hearing this commotion, someone might well be silencing her permanently. What room was there for sentimental concerns now? Li Jingyun’s expression darkened, and he said coldly, looking at her, “I thought you were someone who understood the bigger picture.”
“…” His tone was too harsh. Even knowing she was in the wrong, Huayue’s heart still gave an unwilling pang of pain.
Her body stumbled from his push. Turning her head, she saw him leap up to the embroidery tower with astonishing speed. In the next instant, a masked figure jumped down from the second-floor window, colliding face to face with her, both of them stunned still.
Huayue looked at those familiar eyes and, lowering her eyelids, pressed her lips together.
Feng Zixi reacted quickly too—stepping forward, he seized her throat and spun around to face the group of pursuers behind him.
Whatever had happened upstairs, Li Jingyun hadn’t come down. Only a group of Han estate guards stood gripping their blades, three paces away from the two of them.
“Don’t move.” Feng Zixi tightened his grip on her throat.
Huayue coughed, retreating with him. The servants ahead showed no sign of backing down—after all, she wasn’t the master of this household—so they pressed closer, ready to act.
Not daring to loosen his grip, Feng Zixi maneuvered her step by step to the courtyard gate. The maid Biezhi beside them seemed to be doing it deliberately—she made no move to call for Li Jingyun, only glaring at Huayue with reddened eyes before turning to find the master and mistress of the house.
“What do we do now?” Feng Zixi asked, his voice extremely quiet.
“Run,” Huayue answered softly, lips barely moving. “Once we’re past the courtyard gate, push me into the pond beside it, and you can get away.”
“Can’t you push me somewhere else?” Feng Zixi glanced around. “It’s a bit cold today.”
If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Huayue really would have thanked him. At a moment like this, he was still worried about the cold?
“If you don’t push me in there, once that lord comes out, you won’t be able to escape.” She said it vaguely, then hesitated slightly. “Push hard—I don’t know if falling into that pond will actually hold him back.”
This was nothing like what had originally been planned, but Feng Zixi had no time to think it over further. He dragged her, gripping her throat, out through the courtyard gate.
Huayue looked up toward the embroidery tower. Just before her body fell into the water, she saw Li Jingyun glance out the window.
Perfect timing. She rasped out a cry of “Help!” and then plunged with a splash into the fish pond.
Water and bubbles suddenly filled her vision, and the sounds outside turned hollow and unreal. Huayue could swim—she wouldn’t let herself drown no matter what—but it was cold, terribly cold. The pond water soaked through her clothes, piercing and heavy.
For a moment she remembered hiding in a water vat during that massacre years ago, hearing nothing but despairing voices around her. No one had found her—not even the people who came to rescue her—and she had soaked there for an entire day. The sound of that water had been awful. Looking at the lotus stem she’d used to breathe through, she’d had a moment where she wanted to spit it out, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to just fall asleep like that.
This time was different. Before long, the sound of another splash rang out beside her—someone swam toward her, and a firm hand gripped her arm.
Quietly relieved, Huayue let him pull her up out of the water.
As the scattered water droplets slowly settled, Li Jingyun’s expression was uglier than she had ever seen it. His gilt-threaded black robe was completely soaked through, water droplets falling from the strands of hair at his forehead, sweeping past those ink-dark pupils that now carried, inexplicably, a trace of sinister menace.
The autumn wind blew past, and Huayue sneezed.
He turned and pulled her toward the guest quarters.
For some reason, chaos had broken out in the Han residence. The household servants only brought them two sets of clothes before hurrying off. Li Jingyun took the long silk cloth and, without a word, undid her robes, drying the water from her body bit by bit, then took the buttons of her clean clothes and fastened them one by one.
It was rare for him to help her change, and Huayue felt almost undeservedly favored. Yet she couldn’t quite feel happy about it—glancing at his expression, her heart grew increasingly uneasy.
“What happened up in the tower?” After hesitating for a long moment, she decided to speak first.
The last button fastened, Li Jingyun released his hands and stepped back, the hem of his robe still dripping water as he spoke. “Han Shuang was attacked—a blade straight through the stomach.”
Huayue reached out, wanting to help him out of his own wet clothes, but the moment she took a step closer, he moved away.
Her fingertips trembled. Lowering her eyes, Huayue thought this was probably because he was angry that she hadn’t looked after her own body, falling into the water and catching cold. How was she supposed to coax him out of this mood? She was already in the wrong to begin with, and he’d caught her red-handed besides.
While she was still pondering this, the man before her finally spoke, his tone none too friendly. “You couldn’t get away from him?”
Anyone with even a hint of lightness skill—whatever else you could say about her—could certainly run fastest of all. Yet she’d just stood there and let herself be seized as a hostage.
Huayue lowered her eyes, guilty. “For a moment—for a moment I just couldn’t react in time.”
Lying to whom, exactly?
Taking a deep breath, Li Jingyun found the whole thing absurd. He had always thought she was someone who understood the bigger picture—which was why, even carrying the stigma of servant birth, he hadn’t minded making her his young mistress. He’d been supporting her step by step, thinking she would keep pace with him bit by bit. And yet today, at this critical juncture, not only had she not helped him, she’d gone and played out some jealous rivalry act instead.
Han Shuang’s wounds were severe—she likely couldn’t be saved. Just now had been his last chance to pry a few words out of her, and because of Huayue’s interference outside, he’d rushed out without regard for anything else. Now, wanting to hear Han Shuang speak of the matter concerning the Princess Imperial again was as difficult as reaching the heavens.
Li Jingyun was angry at her, and angry at himself too.
Huayue apologized repeatedly, admitting her fault, but as she spoke, she began to notice something odd.
This man didn’t seem to know about her arrangements today. He hadn’t asked why she wanted to kill Han Shuang, hadn’t asked what relationship she had with the assassin—only questioned why she hadn’t fled.
Her heart sank. Lowering her eyes, Huayue said, “Have I ruined things?”
Li Jingyun frowned, not denying it, giving her a rather disappointed look before turning his head away.
Well then. She turned around, back to him, and studied the ceiling beams. All that worry for nothing—his anger wasn’t out of concern for her, but resentment that she’d been a burden, the reason he hadn’t caught the culprit.
Huayue mocked herself silently, her throat, still sore from the water, aching dully. “This concubine admits her fault.”
But being angry over just this was far easier to manage. She was the one who’d fallen into the water; she was the one with the bruises choked into her neck. No one could pin any collusion between her and the assassin on her. Feng Zixi had escaped, and she was unharmed—everyone satisfied.
As for Han Shuang—back when Madam had valued her, Huayue had shown her a bit more regard along with it. But now that Madam was gone, Han Shuang was nothing more to her than a somewhat irritating stranger. Whether she lived or died had nothing to do with Huayue.
“Go back to the residence first.” Li Jingyun no longer looked at her. “I’ll stay here a few more days.”
“Yes.” Huayue agreed.
Returning to the General’s residence alone, the carriage suddenly stopped halfway. Huayue’s heart lurched—she looked up at the curtain ahead, thinking perhaps someone had finally come to their senses and chased after her.
Instead, the curtain lifted to reveal Su Miao’s face, smiling at her with playful charm. “What’s my little sister-in-law doing out here?”
The light in her eyes dimmed slightly. Huayue pulled her up into the carriage, laughing quietly. “I did something wrong, and your cousin is sending me back to the residence for it.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, little sister-in-law. My cousin dotes on you so much, how could he bear to send you away.” Su Miao waved her hand, then looked her over more closely, rather startled. “Where did you fall into water? Your hair isn’t even dry yet—hey, what happened to your neck? There are two big bruises, all purple.”
If no one had asked, it would have been fine, but now that someone had, it did sting a bit. Huayue touched her neck, pressing her lips together. “I was grabbed and used as a hostage. I got hurt a little.”
Su Miao’s eyes went wide instantly. “How did such a thing happen? Where was my cousin while this went on? You’re still carrying a child!”
Huayue pouted, glancing down at her own belly. “It’s precisely because I’m carrying a child that I got carried away with myself and upset your cousin.”
Being spoiled and willful was a flaw she’d carried her whole life, one she’d never change. But so long as she wasn’t doted upon, she could remain the composed, self-possessed Manager Yin—handling matters with proper measure, never offending people needlessly.
Huayue thought that, had she still been her old self, she would have kept Li Jingyun confined to the residence today, finding a hundred excuses to stop him from going out, or brought in the General to overrule him—anything better than relying on a bit of favor to force this whole plan through.
It was his doting that had spoiled her into this—letting her, someone who should have kept strictly to her place as a servant, dare to raise her voice to the master of the General’s residence; dare to calculate even his affection for her, leaping into that pond knowing he would surely feel the pain of it; dare to forget that she had begun as nothing more than a dog he kept for his own amusement, and had instead started happily nurturing the pregnancy.
Whatever his purpose today—whether for Han Shuang or something else—there were things in this world that mattered more to him than she did. She simply hadn’t encountered it before now.
Having worked through this, Huayue felt lighter instead. She had hesitated before, wondering what she should do if Shen Zhiluo’s group and Li Jingyun ever came into conflict, caught in the middle. Now she understood: romantic entanglements were one matter, and the fate of nations another. If the two never collided, there was no need to rank them; if they did collide, each would fend for their own side.
“Ah, I won’t ask anymore, don’t cry.” Su Miao looked at her, flustered, fumbling out a handkerchief to press against her eyes.
Huayue came back to herself, only then realizing she had shed a few tears. Her voice was perfectly steady as she said, “It’s nothing. Carrying a child makes one’s tear ducts shallow, that’s all. I’m not sad.”
Brow furrowing slightly, Su Miao couldn’t help saying, “Why is it you Wei people always say one thing and mean another?”
And you Liang people always say one thing while doing another.
Huayue shook her head, wiping her eyes, and asked, “Where are you headed?”
Only then did Su Miao remember. “Oh right, I saw your carriage and wanted to say hello—didn’t realize I’d end up riding along this whole way. Quick, stop the carriage, I still need to deliver silk to my sister at the Lin family.”
This girl really was something—after marrying, she’d only gotten busier, playing with this young lady one day, sending gifts to that young lady the next. The wives of various households who spoke with her often mentioned what a good rapport this young cousin had.
“Not going back to accompany Master Shen?” Huayue asked.
Su Miao paused, turning her head away rather awkwardly. “Oh, him—he’s busy, doesn’t need me around. I find my own fun.”
With that, she jumped down from the carriage shaft and waved at her. “See you later, sister-in-law.”
Huayue lifted the curtain to watch her go a stretch of the way, thinking this young cousin truly lived well—rare, unrestrained freedom in this mortal world.
But as the carriage continued on for a good while longer, Huayue finally noticed something was off.
Why hadn’t she brought Muyu with her at all?
Su Miao happily wove through the crowds on the street, and the young men who brushed past her couldn’t help turning their heads for a second look. Ahead was the silk shop. Su Miao walked up to the entrance and stopped, but didn’t go in.
She had quarreled with Shen Zhiluo today—their first fight since marrying. It had started when she’d gone to bring him roast chicken, chattering excitedly to share the gossip of the capital with him.
Whose wife had gotten pregnant, whose young lady had gotten pregnant before marriage, whose child could already recite poetry, whose mother dog had given birth to a second litter.
It had been a bit much, granted, but she’d at least told it with feeling—and in the end he’d snapped at her and driven her out the door.
Su Miao didn’t like it when Shen Zhiluo was harsh with her—like when she’d once broken his cosmic compass, it could make her angry for a long time. But this time, thinking it over carefully, she figured Shen Zhiluo had probably heard about the dog having a second litter and gotten anxious that his own wife’s belly hadn’t stirred at all, and that was why he’d snapped.
Holding onto this understanding, forgiving thought, she’d gone to find Wen Guzhi.
After taking her pulse, Wen Guzhi told her that she’d been drinking contraceptive tonic for a long time and could no longer conceive.
Funny, wasn’t it? A newly married couple, and from the very first night of the wedding chamber, Shen Zhiluo had been giving her tonics to nourish her body. No one had properly taught her the rules before her marriage—how was she supposed to know how one was meant to conceive a child? She’d truly believed she needed medicinal tonics and had drunk every bowl without fail, foolishly, only to find he’d never intended for her to carry his child at all.
Was this him taking advantage of her having no mother to guide her, or taking advantage of how much she liked him?
Whichever it was, Su Miao felt something sour in her heart. She had been willing to sever ties with the General’s residence for him, and this was how he treated her—never once regarding her as a real person.
Truly unable to bear it any longer, she had smashed every vase and piece of jade in his room and stormed out.
She had plenty of places to go—she couldn’t return to the General’s residence, but the Lin residence, the Song residence, the Li residence were all options. She was determined to wait until he came, humble and apologetic, to beg her to return.
And yet, now that she’d calmed down some, standing here, Su Miao suddenly realized—even if she went nowhere at all, he might not come looking for her either.