Li Ying didn’t regain consciousness until ten days later.

When she slowly opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the plain ceiling boards above. In the room, dark red auspicious charcoal burned in a bronze brazier, and soothing incense wafted from the mouth of a white crane-shaped incense burner. She coughed lightly twice and struggled to sit up, causing the brocade quilt to slide off her body. Suddenly, she heard a cool, clear voice: “Awake?”

Li Ying looked toward the voice and saw Cui Xun sitting at a desk, holding a sparrow-head brush. Without raising his head, he was meticulously writing a memorial on white hemp paper.

So she was in Cui Xun’s study.

Li Ying clutched the quilt and asked him in bewilderment: “Did you save me?”

Cui Xun made an “mm” sound of agreement. Li Ying could hardly believe it, so she asked: “Why… why would you save me?”

Cui Xun’s brush paused. He said coolly: “Consider it repayment for the clothes you gave me.”

Li Ying was slightly taken aback. When she had given him clothes, she hadn’t expected him to remember. She silently nodded, hesitating for a long while before tentatively asking: “That day at Ximing Temple, that Turkic princess…”

Before she could finish, she noticed Cui Xun’s sparrow-head brush tremble slightly. Cui Xun lowered his eyes and continued writing in small script: “That’s not something you should inquire about.”

“I’m not trying to pry,” Li Ying said anxiously, feeling another bout of dryness and irritation in her throat. She lowered her head and coughed a few times, then said: “I just wanted to say that she isn’t a good person, and you shouldn’t torment yourself over someone like her.”

Cui Xun had been writing the four characters “ri yue jing tian” (sun and moon traversing the sky). He was writing the character “yue” (moon) when he heard her words. He looked up at Li Ying, who was leaning against the flower-patterned nanmu daybed, wrapped in brocade, her white wrists like frost and face as bright as the moon. He lowered his head and completed the final stroke of “yue”: “You almost had your soul scattered, yet you still have the leisure to concern yourself with others.”

Li Ying gave an embarrassed smile: “The situation was urgent then; it was my rashness that caused trouble for Young Lord Cui.”

“Don’t be rash in the future,” Cui Xun said. “Otherwise, there won’t be a second myrobalan fruit in the world to save you.”

“Myrobalan fruit? What is that?”

“A fruit that grows on the banks of the Naihe River in the netherworld, capable of healing ghosts.” Cui Xun paused: “Yu Fuwei found it.”

Li Ying was surprised. She apologized: “Yu Fuwei is a merchant. I imagine Young Lord Cui must have spent quite a sum. I will repay you.”

“That won’t be necessary. Yu Fuwei didn’t take a single coin.”

Li Ying had not expected this. Yu Fuwei was shrewd and calculating, never doing business at a loss. How could he give away this seemingly expensive myrobalan fruit to her for free? On second thought, Yu Fuwei had said that her death had changed the fate of humble families throughout the land. Perhaps this was his way of expressing gratitude on behalf of those families.

Li Ying suddenly felt a mix of emotions, unsure whether to be happy or dejected. Cui Xun looked up and suddenly asked: “Why did you go after Wang Ranxi on your own? Why didn’t you call me to go with you?”

Li Ying was stunned. She lowered her jade-like neck and said softly, “You were in a bad mood that day. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Now it was Cui Xun’s turn to be stunned. He lowered his head and fell silent, continuing to write the memorial to the Emperor word by word on the white hemp paper. After a while, he said, “Your injury isn’t healed yet. Lie down.”

Li Ying nodded. Following his words, she lay on her side on the flower-patterned nanmu daybed, facing Cui Xun, resting quietly. Cui Xun didn’t speak again. The only sound in the study was the rustling of the sparrow-head brush on paper. Li Ying, still weak from her injuries, began to feel drowsy. Her eyelids grew heavy, and between blinks, Cui Xun’s willowy figure appeared before her again and again. He lowered his head as he wrote, his eyebrows like ink paintings, his eyelashes like crow’s feathers, his peach blossom eyes captivating. These beautiful features, which vulgar people criticized as serving through looks, were paradoxically accompanied by a stern, unyielding character. Li Ying’s eyes closed with fatigue, then slowly forced themselves open again. This way, she watched his countenance, brilliant as the morning glow, reappear before her eyes time after time, until Cui Xun slightly raised his head and fixed his gaze on her. Only then did she turn to face the other way, like someone caught doing something wrong. A moment later, light, gentle breathing came from the daybed, and Cui Xun lowered his head again, continuing to write the memorial in neat, small script.

The winter snow melted, and the weather alternated between warm and cold. After several days of recovery, Li Ying was finally able to slowly get out of bed and walk. However, the backlash from using her powers had injured her essence, and she still couldn’t leave the room or appear during daylight.

During these days, Cui Xun hadn’t returned to his residence. He seemed to be very busy with matters at the Ministry of Justice, staying at the government office. However, the mute servant still came to the study every day to add fresh auspicious charcoal to the brazier and light soothing incense.

The mute servant couldn’t speak, and the large residence felt lonely and desolate. Li Ying got down from the daybed and, supporting herself against the wall, managed to walk around the study a few times. However, when she reached the ebony bookshelf, she accidentally knocked down a scroll.

Li Ying became flustered and squatted down to pick up the scroll. The scroll had opened when it fell to the ground, and Li Ying curiously saw dense, small characters: “Cao Wu Lang, resident of Zhong Cao Village in Huayang Township, Chang’an, with only a mother remaining in his household…”

It turned out that the scroll contained names and residences of people. In Cao Wu Lang’s entry, a vertical line had been drawn in vermilion ink. The line was crooked, showing that the person who drew it had been so angry that they could barely hold the brush steady.

Li Ying suddenly remembered that at Ximing Temple, the lute maid had said, “Cao Wu is dead.” Could the Cao Wu she mentioned be this Cao Wu Lang in the scroll?

Li Ying read further: “Sheng Yunting, resident of Da’an Ward, Chang’an, with one younger sister remaining in his household, named Ah’man…”

Ah’man? The lute maid’s name seemed to be Ah’man…

As Li Ying was pondering this, she suddenly heard the sound of black leather boots stepping on the floor, followed by the sound of the door being pushed open. Cui Xun, wearing a black crane-patterned cloak, walked in. Everything happened so quickly that she didn’t have time to put the scroll away. Cui Xun saw the scroll on the ground, stared at it, then quickly came forward to pick it up and put it back on the ebony bookshelf.

Li Ying was at a loss, stammering: “I didn’t mean to pry. I accidentally knocked down the scroll, so I…”

She lowered her head, her face flushed, fingers pinching her grayish skirt, looking embarrassed and uneasy. Cui Xun put the scroll back, and without turning around, said calmly: “Forget it.”

Li Ying was stunned: “Hm?”

“I said forget it.” Cui Xun turned around, his voice like cold jade.

Li Ying heard the displeasure in his tone and felt even more awkward. She lowered her head, pinching her skirt tightly, full of shame and embarrassment. Seeing her weak posture, Cui Xun pressed his lips together and suddenly asked: “Your injury isn’t healed yet. Why are you walking around?”

Li Ying was taken aback and quickly explained: “I felt stifled, so I wanted to walk around. But I couldn’t go out, so I could only walk in this study, and that’s when I accidentally…”

She was rambling as she explained again that she had accidentally knocked down the scroll. Cui Xun picked up an oil-paper umbrella placed on the bookshelf and said, “Then let’s go for a walk outside.”

Outside, new green shoots adorned the branches, and the vegetation was returning to life. Li Ying, wrapped in a white fox fur coat, looked frail and delicate, while beside her was Cui Xun, holding the oilpaper umbrella and wearing a crane-patterned cloak, appearing austere and dignified. Li Ying walked a few steps before feeling lightheaded and dizzy. She had to lean against a nearby willow tree, breathing heavily. Cui Xun turned to look at her, and Li Ying smiled bitterly: “I’m sorry, my body is weak. I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint Young Lord Cui’s kindness.”

Cui Xun was silent for a moment, then extended his arm: “If the Princess doesn’t mind, you can hold onto me as we walk.”

Li Ying was surprised. She looked up slightly at Cui Xun, whose beauty was like jade and pearls, then lowered her eyes and slowly extended her arms to hold onto Cui Xun’s arm, leaning her weight on him as they moved forward slowly.

Under the oilpaper umbrella, a man and a woman walked side by side. Li Ying needed to pause and catch her breath after every few steps. Cui Xun said, “Your injury still needs more time to heal.”

“But regarding Wang Ranxi…”

“She’s also ill,” Cui Xun said, holding the oilpaper umbrella, his body thin in the deep crimson official robes under the large crane-patterned cloak. “More severely than you.”

Li Ying was not satisfied: “If she dies, where will I find the truth?”

“Don’t worry. Before she dies, I’ll bring her to the Ministry of Justice.”

But Li Ying couldn’t help worrying: “Wang Ranxi is the wife of a third-rank official, a Lady of Jincheng Commandery conferred by the Emperor. Is Young Lord Cui so confident he can bring her to the Ministry of Justice?”

Cui Xun said calmly: “She may have been the wife of a third-rank official, a Lady of Jincheng Commandery conferred by the Emperor before, but after the Princess risked her life to uncover the truth, she is now merely a suspect in the murder of the Empress Dowager’s beloved daughter.”

“But her husband, Pei Guanyue, the Minister of War—will he stand by and do nothing?”

A flash of cold anger, almost imperceptible, crossed Cui Xun’s eyes: “It would be better for him not to stand by and do nothing.”

Li Ying didn’t fully understand, but she understood that Cui Xun had promised to arrest Wang Ranxi. She thanked him sincerely: “Then I am most grateful to Young Lord Cui.”

Faced with her sincerity, Cui Xun suddenly fell silent. After a while, he said, “We each seek what we need. After this matter is concluded, we will go our separate ways. So there’s no need for you to keep thanking me.”

His words were cold and detached. Li Ying was stunned. She couldn’t help but glance at Cui Xun and saw that beneath his black gauze hat, his features were as cold as frost, keeping people at a distance. For some reason, she felt a sense of loss in her heart. She lowered her head and said softly: “Mm.”

Cui Xun didn’t speak again. The two walked silently around the courtyard, then Cui Xun said, “The wind is strong outside. Let’s go back.”

Li Ying nodded again. She held onto Cui Xun’s arm. The early spring was chilly, but Cui Xun’s body was as cold as an ice cave, colder than the spring chill, even colder than her own body that had long been dead. Li Ying held onto Cui Xun and moved back to the study. Cui Xun helped her onto the daybed, then sat at the desk to handle official business. He inadvertently looked up at Li Ying and noticed that this time, unlike the previous days, she wasn’t lying on her side watching him, but had turned her back, quietly facing the red pillars and white walls. After a long time, he still didn’t hear the gentle breathing of her sleep. Cui Xun pressed his lips together as he looked at her back, a hint of confusion flashing through his eyes. But soon, that confusion turned into placid calm. He lowered his head indifferently and continued to meticulously write on the memorial.