New Year’s Eve. Heavy snow.

Luo Ying excitedly carried a bundle into the room, calling out, “Miss, the new dress for tonight has arrived. Hurry and try it on.”

Two people were in the outer room—A Hao sat in a daze, Hua Ying practiced calligraphy. Neither reacted much to Luo Ying’s enthusiasm.

Undaunted by this, the naturally optimistic Luo Ying continued toward the inner room. “Miss?”

But the inner room was empty.

Luo Ying placed the bundle on the vanity, turned and went back out. Without asking A Hao or Hua Ying, she walked outside, circled to the back of the building, and knocked on a tightly closed small round door.

“Miss, it’s your maid Luo Ying. The new dress has arrived. The head steward says we depart in another hour. Do you think you should start getting ready?” Luo Ying was certain Mo Zi was behind the door.

No sound for a long while, then the door opened. Mo Zi emerged in carpenter’s clothes with her hair in a ponytail, smiling at Luo Ying. “Use a whole hour getting dressed? I’m not some noble young lady or refined miss—I’m just going along with His Excellency to join the festivities. Besides, for this kind of occasion, men’s clothing is more suitable. Women’s dress is cumbersome.”

Luo Ying gently closed the door, ignoring the pits and bumps in the courtyard. “Miss can’t say that. I heard the head steward say this is a state banquet where we’ll sit in the same hall with envoys from two other nations. We can’t let them look down on our Great Zhou. Moreover, His Excellency said he wants to see Miss beautiful as a celestial fairy. How could you wear men’s clothing?”

Mo Zi shook her head with a smile. “Yuan Cheng said he wants to see me like a celestial fairy?” Would he say such words?

Luo Ying seemed somewhat flustered, answering awkwardly, “What His Excellency said, this maid didn’t entirely understand, but he definitely mentioned the words ‘celestial fairy,’ so this maid guessed.”

Both Luo Ying and Hua Ying were laundry maids. The head steward had wanted her to choose two more refined ones, but Mo Zi refused—she wanted just these two. She wasn’t a noble miss and didn’t need maids attending to her. If she really had to choose, she’d choose simple people.

“Hua Ying wants to learn writing. What do you want to learn?” Not curious about Yuan Cheng’s exact words, Mo Zi asked Luo Ying.

“This maid is simple, only nimble with hands and feet.” Luo Ying shook her head. “Being able to keep serving Miss would be good enough.”

Mo Zi didn’t force her. She was trying not to change others’ thoughts based on her own views—let everything follow its natural course. Sometimes what she saw as not good didn’t mean others thought it bad. Qiu Sanniang was the one she’d managed most, but the results proved it didn’t work well.

Still that saying—first manage yourself well.

Over an hour later, Yuan Cheng waited by the carriage.

Night had fallen. Servants lit New Year’s lanterns, illuminating the surroundings festively. Early firecrackers exploded in lively clamor. A thin layer of snow already covered the ground, flawless and golden.

Ming Nian stood on tiptoe peering about, muttering, “Miss Mo Zi usually acts swiftly—why hasn’t she come yet? We’ve been waiting over two quarters of an hour. My lord, should we send someone to fetch her again?”

Yuan Cheng strolled to the plum tree, raised his hand to shake a branch, and caught falling blossoms in his robe. “As long as she’s a woman, going out always requires careful preparation. If it pleases the eye, what harm in waiting?”

Ming Nian continued muttering, “If it were someone else, I might have some anticipation. But Third Young Master, Brother Mo, Manager Mo—whatever we call her, no matter how she dresses, what I imagine is heroic and spirited, graceful as jade trees, dashing and elegant.” Just like that mismatched outfit he’d seen her wear working at the shipyard. Good-looking was good-looking, but couldn’t be called dazzlingly radiant.

Selecting some that were still intact, Yuan Cheng tucked them in his sleeve. Turning his head, his gaze focused with a smile. “Stop your muttering. If she hears you saying she’s not like a woman, I’m afraid your days ahead won’t be easy. If she decides to torment you, I can’t plead for you either—after all, you were wrong first.”

Ming Nian lowered his head and pursed his lips, thinking privately: clearly just favoritism. Raising his head again, he put on a smile and glanced toward the approaching path. His eyes grew wider and wider.

Black hair gathered like clouds, adorned with a single pearl hairpin and no other ornaments. Her face bore no powder, naturally pale as jade, but her brows were delicately traced, vermillion lipstick applied, and a plum blossom mark affixed. A silver fox-trimmed sleeve-gathered snow-proof wide robe embroidered with purple leaves and coiling vines to ward off winter’s chill. Ripples rose with each step, swallows crossing the spring river at the hem, layer upon layer of bright orchid gauze embroidery. Wind blew snow, as if water flowed and swallows flew. And what was that crisp bell sound? The white paper umbrella in her hand—its ribs held silver bells.

Yuan Cheng’s eyes deepened. Who could say the one before him wasn’t an absolutely beautiful woman? Just a few fine garments, just a little adornment, and the beautiful face hidden beneath old clothes and worn shirts shone bright as the moon.

“Ming Nian, still want to use ‘heroic and spirited’ now?” He feasted his eyes while not forgetting to tease his page.

Ming Nian blinked. While Mo Zi hadn’t yet approached, he muttered, “My lord, you should tell her to dress like this more often in the future—then we’d constantly feast our eyes.”

Yuan Cheng laughed aloud.

Hearing this as she approached, Mo Zi frowned at her outfit. “Is it because I’ve worn men’s clothing or maid’s clothing too long that this just feels awkward?” Such expensive clothing—she’d always worn it in the Great Qiu palace, but never felt comfortable.

“You’ll get used to it with wear.” Ming Nian interjected.

“Ming Nian just asked me to tell you that in the future—no, preferably every day—you should dress like this so he can feast his eyes.” Yuan Cheng “tattled.”

Ming Nian’s face immediately fell. “My lord!”

How could Mo Zi not understand? She deliberately put her hands on her hips and made a fierce face. “So, Ming Nian, you’re laughing at how ugly I was before?”

Ming Nian jumped into the carriage, hurrying to lift the curtain. “My lord, we should depart. It’s already late. If we delay further and become the last to arrive, what will we do?”

Yuan Cheng had been about to board but turned back, took the plum blossoms from his sleeve, and handed them to Mo Zi. “Everything else is good, just your hair is too plain. There’s no time to acquire new ornaments, but the plum blossoms are fresh enough—add them.” Having said this, he entered the carriage.

Mo Zi habitually rode with him and was about to lift her foot to the step when Ming Nian blocked her.

“Miss Mo Zi is now a delicate guest. Riding in the same carriage as His Excellency would invite gossip. Please take the carriage behind.” The young man spoke seriously, signaling the driver to proceed.

Delicate guest? Watching the carriage slowly drive toward the gate, Mo Zi didn’t know whether to laugh at the title or thank Yuan Cheng for his thoughtfulness. In any case, clutching the golden plum blossoms in her palm, she was speechless, then smiled helplessly.

In Mo Zi’s eyes, the Moon Palace wasn’t a palace but a very beautiful garden—a beautiful garden built on water.

Upon disembarking, they had to take a boat. Because this was an imperial feast, attendants and maids couldn’t enter. A young eunuch came to receive them, saying there were temporarily no boats, asking Yuan Cheng and her to wait briefly in the warm pavilion—someone would come summon them to board.

Entering the warm pavilion, the table held various pastries plus hot tea and warm wine. Though a zither and chess set were prepared to pass the time, Yuan Cheng didn’t play the zither and Mo Zi touched neither. She actually knew chess, but having pretended not to for so long, she wasn’t eager to reveal it. Besides, playing chess took much effort—they probably wouldn’t play more than a few moves before the boat arrived.

“Yuan Cheng.” Zan Jin, A Hao, A Yue and the others were left in the outer hall, leaving her unsettled. She lowered her voice, seeking reassurance. “Can those people’s skills evade the palace guards?”

Those people—referring to Yi Shan and Ding Gou, master and disciple.

“The plum blossoms look very good.” Yuan Cheng didn’t answer her but looked at the plum blossoms tucked in her hair.

“A Yue also said they look good. Thank you.” If he were in the modern era and really couldn’t find work, he could do design—might even make it to Paris or something, Mo Zi thought.

“No need to thank me.” Yuan Cheng’s eyes took in the scattered plum blossoms. “The flowers are beautiful because the person is beautiful.”

Mo Zi’s face suddenly reddened. Stammering, she couldn’t produce even one diversionary remark.

Just then, they heard the young eunuch’s voice saying the boat had arrived.

A small painted pleasure boat on the water, two oarsmen.

Mo Zi followed Yuan Cheng onto the boat. Her complexion recovered to normal with the opportunity, and she even tried to joke. “Can’t share a carriage but can share a boat—should I wait for the next one?”

Before Yuan Cheng could say anything, they heard someone call out to wait before departing.

The young eunuch on shore seemed to know the other party’s identity, saying, “Honored Envoys, walk carefully. The snow is heavy tonight and the ground slippery—watch your step.”

Mo Zi’s heart immediately skipped a beat. Originally sitting across from Yuan Cheng, she quickly moved to the seat beside him, feigning composure while her eyes grew alert and guarded.

Yuan Cheng saw this and said softly, “Others can’t enter, but the Qianniu Guard can. Huayi should have arrived early. Just hold on until we disembark.”

Mo Zi made an affirmative sound, really unable to resist saying, “I truly didn’t want to come tonight.” When she’d discovered she couldn’t bring people in, her mind had grown unsettled. She didn’t know when, but she’d come to rely heavily on Zan Jin and the others.

“Don’t be afraid.” Yuan Cheng propped his chin. “At worst, jump in the water.”

“What about you?” Mo Zi asked quite naturally.

“Grab your arm.” Yuan Cheng answered just as naturally.

Mo Zi covered her forehead and smiled secretly, feeling somewhat lighter.

Thump, thump, thump—heavy footsteps, indicating either bad character or bad mood. The door curtain lifted. The first to enter was a middle-aged man, thin and wiry, with shifty eyes, wearing Nande official robes. Following him, seven or eight people entered.

The moment this person appeared, a playful smile emerged on Yuan Cheng’s face.

And Mo Zi, seeing the other party wasn’t a Great Qiu envoy, felt secretly relieved but immediately thought of these people’s relationship with Yuan Cheng and tensed again.

Yuan Cheng was a Nande fugitive! Although Yuan Cheng’s serving as an official in Great Zhou couldn’t be hidden from those with interest, they’d never met this openly before. Wu Jian was the son of Yuan Cheng’s greatest political enemy. Coming to Great Zhou as an envoy this time, what if he demanded Yuan Cheng be “extradited” back?

Thinking this way, she’d rather have encountered Great Qiu people. At least she wasn’t a fugitive and didn’t rely on political asylum. Under the circumstances of the three-nation talks, whether the Great Zhou Emperor would trade Yuan Cheng for some benefits was hard to say.

Looking at Yuan Cheng, she discovered her worries all seemed superfluous.

“Lord Wu, have you been well?” How carefree, taking the initiative to greet.

Wu Jian lowered his head to brush off snow pellets. Hearing Yuan Cheng’s voice, he immediately looked up. His expression showed no surprise but was full of contempt. “I wondered where that dog’s barking came from? Turns out it’s you, this homeless cur.”

Wu Jian’s cronies behind him all jeered.

“Tucking your tail between your legs, fleeing back to the place where your family perished, serving the son of the man who killed your parents—how does it feel? Does it give you special insight into what it means to be a bastard?” Wu Jian laughed viciously.

Mo Zi almost slammed the table in anger, but warmth touched her hand—Yuan Cheng’s hand covering hers.