Lu Shi buried the woman by Golden Ox Lake—a place of clear mountains and beautiful waters, supposedly an auspicious feng shui location.

Everything settled, he went to a bathhouse to wash himself clean, then found an inn and burrowed into the bedding, curling into a ball.

So cold!

Though covered with a thick quilt, he was still so cold his teeth chattered.

More mouth ulcers had developed, and with the lightest touch, his mouth filled with the taste of blood…

The room was silent as death. The north wind struck the window again and again, as if heaven were urging:

You bastard, why haven’t you died yet?

Lu Shi fell ill, feverish and dazed, unable even to lift his eyelids.

He thought—this time he’d truly become a lonely ghost. He could no longer call out “Mother, I’m cold.” There would be no hand touching his forehead, rescuing him from the King of Hell’s palace.

With such a fate, when people spoke of him in future, it would only be a single word—”pitiful”—with not an extra ounce of sympathy.

Then just die.

He didn’t want to live anyway.

Time passed—he didn’t know how long. Lu Shi’s nose detected a familiar scent.

Then a hand touched his forehead.

He groggily opened his eyes. What entered his vision was a young woman’s features, very clear.

A dream.

Lu Shi clung to this feeling, rubbed his face against that hand, and closed his eyes again.

“Jianxi, give me cold water.”

“…”

“Open the window a crack.”

“…”

“See if the physician has arrived…”

How could he hear her voice in a dream?

Lu Shi self-mockingly tugged at his lips and forced his eyes open.

Into his vision intruded a man’s face.

How did this fellow surnamed Tang enter the dream too?

Lu Shi burned with fever internally, thinking: Can’t you let him be alone with her for a while?

“You’re awake?”

“Mm.”

Lu Shi murmured lowly. Sensing that hand about to move from his forehead, he quickly spoke, “Don’t move it.”

The voice was hoarse and heavy—he himself was startled by it. The hand hidden under the covers pinched hard.

Pain struck.

This wasn’t any dream—that person was truly, genuinely before his eyes.

Lu Shi struggled to sit up. Suddenly something fell on his face—wet and hot.

He froze, unable to speak, using his gaze to trace the young woman’s outline.

Thinner, darker, more haggard, hair combed messily with several strands falling by her ears.

How had she come?

Did the master know about this?

Was only Tang Jianxi accompanying her?

Where was Lin Bi?

“Senior Brother, please get better quickly. We put in so much effort for this trip.”

Tang Jianxi plopped down in a chair and began rambling.

“Junior Sister told the master she was going to Jing’an Temple to pray and chant sutras for our late master’s wife. The master wasn’t at ease and had me and Senior Brother Chu accompany her.

Outside the city, we split into two groups. Lin Bi disguised herself as Junior Sister and went to Jing’an Temple with Chu Yanting. We didn’t even catch our breath before heading south.

You don’t know how difficult this journey was—that carriage jolted until my bones nearly came apart. Junior Sister, she…”

“Senior Brother, go out for a bit. I have something to say to Lu Shi.”

“In this freezing weather, where am I supposed to go…”

“Senior Brother?”

“Fine, fine, fine.”

Tang Jianxi stood up. “Not too long—half an hour at most. This southern weather is so cold, the wind blows right into your bones. Really damn miserable.”

The door closed. The room fell quiet.

She rose and closed the window, then retrieved a towel from the basin, wrung it dry, and placed it on Lu Shi’s forehead.

Lu Shi shivered from the towel’s cold.

“Hold it yourself.”

She sat in the chair, her gaze meeting Lu Shi’s for a moment before lowering.

“I’m stubborn—the more someone tells me not to do something, the more I’ll do it. That day you said I could watch any opera except Romance of the Western Chamber. I wanted to know why you wouldn’t let me watch it.”

Lu Shi pressed the towel on his head, saying nothing.

“Romance of the Western Chamber’s predecessor was called The Story of Yingying.”

The young woman continued on her own, completely unaware that Lu Shi’s expression had already changed.

“In The Story of Yingying, after Scholar Zhang achieved success, he immediately married another woman. He even told his classmates about Yingying offering herself to him as a joke. This man is a thorough scoundrel.”

“Good that you know.” His voice was hoarse.

“Lu Shi, that girl Yingying was actually quite foolish.”

Another “Lu Shi”—it made his breathing catch.

“She actually should have listened to her mother. One’s own mother wouldn’t harm her daughter. If the old lady disagreed, she must have had her reasons. Don’t you think so?”

“Mm.”

She raised her head, glanced at him quickly, then turned to gaze at the night outside the window.

“Before Mother passed, she told me that we women spend our lives seeking nothing more than someone who knows when we’re cold or warm—doesn’t have to be wealthy and noble. If you’re ill, he brings you medicine. If you’re cold, he adds clothing. That’s already very good.”

Lu Shi looked at her, his throat rolling several times.

He’d never met his master’s wife—only heard the master mention her briefly in passing, with no real impression.

“Mother also said to look at a man, besides his family background, you must look at his character. Character is more important than background. Background can be slowly accumulated, slowly earned. Character can’t change in a lifetime.”

She moved her gaze back to rest on him.

“Mother lastly said affection is a brief thing—three to five years and it’s gone. In the end, married life comes down to daily necessities. Even if you’re a heavenly beauty, men will tire of you someday. When that day truly comes, child, just live well for yourself.”

“Your mother… was a perceptive person.”

“You were twenty when you came to the Tang family. This year you’re twenty-six.”

She laughed once—though it didn’t quite sound like laughter, more like a sigh.

“Six years—Lu Shi, do you know what I saw?”

Lu Shi shook his head, thinking if you keep calling me that, I’m going to break down.

“Take your hand away.”

She suddenly changed the subject, removed the towel from his forehead, rose to dampen the towel in cold water, wrung it out, and placed it back on his forehead.

Her fingertips were cool. When they touched his skin, Lu Shi felt something explode inside his heart.

“I’m not very good at these things. When I was ill, I watched Lin Bi do this.”

She tucked the stray hair by her ear and sat back down.

“It’s been too long—some things are too trivial. I can’t remember them anymore. I’ll just speak of one thing I saw. Is that acceptable?”

Lu Shi’s breathing suddenly grew labored. “Junior Sister…”

“You’re not allowed to speak. You can only listen to me.”

In an instant, she reverted to that lofty young miss.

“That theater pavilion in our garden—you urged Father to build it, didn’t you? You also drew the design, didn’t you?”

Boom!

Lu Shi’s ears suddenly couldn’t hear anything.

“Junior Sister always disguising herself as a man isn’t proper. She’ll marry into a noble family eventually—every word and deed must be flawless.”

“Master, let’s build a theater pavilion by the water in the garden. Then we’ll keep some actors in the residence. Junior Sister can have them perform whatever she wants to watch.”

“I’ve drawn the pavilion design. Master needn’t worry about this—leave it to me.”

“It won’t interfere with studies—just two or three months…”