Prince Yan’s mansion, side hall.

The carved wooden windows stood wide open. Verdant, dense tree canopies swayed, and wind mixed with floral fragrance poured inside.

Su Run gripped the chair’s armrests tightly. The anesthetic’s effects had already worn off—he simply couldn’t sit still. Bean-sized beads of sweat rolled down. The seat Lu Huating had graciously offered felt like deliberate punishment.

While Su Run fidgeted, Lu Huating’s brush never stopped.

The air carried a faint scent of blood.

Just moments ago, an assassin had hung upside down from the eaves attempting to break through the window to assassinate. This Chief Clerk Lu clearly had his back to the window yet remained utterly unmoved. Immediately afterward, Prince Yan’s mansion’s shadow guards shot the assassin out through the window. Lu Huating picked up a cash coin and tossed it on the table, looked down at the result, then flicked it aside: “Kill him.”

The shadow guards outside finished off the assassin while young eunuchs inside wiped away the blood traces.

Su Run’s face was already bloodless. From their reactions, such assassinations seemed completely ordinary occurrences at Prince Yan’s mansion.

How pitiful—how could Qun Qing, a young lady residing in the inner palace, know such a person who licked blood from knife edges?

In the sweltering heat, Lu Huating’s face was clean and smooth, warm and pure white as jade. His entire person resembled orchids and jade trees—showing no signs of disorder or stickiness. Judging by appearance alone, he could indeed deceive people…

Within just an incense stick’s time, official documents piled into a thick stack before him, then were gathered together by a pair of distinctly jointed hands: “I’ve finished reviewing them all. Is Scholar Su still not speaking?”

Lu Huating looked up with a faint smile. Su Run confirmed this was his first time seeing the person before him, but somehow always felt those black eyes contained bone-chilling malice beneath the surface.

“No one instructed me! I previously heard colleagues mention that the Chief Clerk and Supervising Secretary Meng have always had grievances. Having offended Supervising Secretary Meng, I thought to seek refuge with the Chief Clerk—the enemy of my enemy is my friend. That’s all.” Su Run said.

Prince Yan’s mansion’s people had already repeatedly interrogated his motives. He carefully remembered Qun Qing’s instructions, insisting he’d come on his own initiative. He hadn’t expected this Lu Huating to be so suspicious.

“Then how did you know Meng Guanlou would kill you this afternoon?” Lu Huating scrutinized him. “Don’t blame Prince Yan’s mansion for discourtesy. You didn’t come early or late, but on the very morning when he acts in the afternoon—it’s rather coincidental. Did you get wind of something from someone?”

“This… was indeed coincidence…” Su Run couldn’t explain himself clearly and was somewhat distraught. “I truly, genuinely didn’t know someone would act in the afternoon.”

At this moment, wind stirred the curtains. A shadow guard entered to report: “Chief Clerk, we’ve searched through all the Six Bureaus registries—there isn’t a single female official named Qun Qing.”

Hearing this, Su Run froze.

Where had he just now let slip anything about Qun Qing? No—he hadn’t mentioned her from beginning to end! So how did Lu Huating know?

Could this person actually read minds?

The next moment, he discovered his error. When he glanced toward Lu Huating, the other was also watching him. His expression had completely betrayed him.

Those dark, upturned eyes of Lu Huating’s—when staring at someone, they were as sharp as a blade’s edge pressed against skin. He seemed to have discovered something amusing: “The person who told you to come find me—is she called Qun Qing?”

“No.” Panic reflected in Su Run’s eyes. “That colleague’s surname is Zhang. The person the Chief Clerk mentioned—I don’t know her.”

But Lu Huating smiled at him.

Without waiting for Su Run’s answer, he’d already lost patience. He had someone bring the “generous gifts” Su Run had brought, drew out a dagger, pried open the wooden boxes one after another, and pinched out the pastries inside.

Then he crushed them mercilessly between his fingers.

Su Run watched him crush the pastries one by one, ghostly fire rising in his heart: Who knew how long Qun Qing had saved to accumulate these pastries—how could he so trample on her kindness!

Lu Huating wiped his fingers clean with a handkerchief, his expression inscrutable.

In his impression, this woman proceeded step by step with caution. She’d sent Su Run to his door, delivering a great gift, yet hadn’t included any notes or messages.

Thinking from a spy’s perspective, she should hide in the shadows for best effect, avoiding drawing her opponent’s attention as much as possible. Could it be that in the first year of Sheng Lin, she already had such deep feelings for this ninth-rank civil official that she’d willingly risk herself to save him?

That was also possible.

Lu Huating looked at Su Run, making him utterly terrified. That sweltering summer—it was precisely because this person suddenly fell ill that Qun Qing began her step-by-step collapse.

It seemed even among her devoted followers, there were hierarchies of status.

He couldn’t see what was so special about him.

The knife tip pried open the box, wood chips falling. Watching his actions, Su Run suddenly understood with divine inspiration why Qun Qing wanted him to hide her existence: Lu Huating was searching for someone…

…Searching for her.

With a tearing sound, Lu Huating ripped open the silk lining at the box’s bottom. Prominently displayed was a fingernail-sized Palace Service Bureau reward seal in bright red.

Lu Huating set down the box: “She’s in the Palace Service Bureau.”

“Who is this person? Why is the Chief Clerk going to such trouble to find her?” Juan Su looked at the red characters at the box’s bottom and asked carefully. Chief Clerk Lu had been in a bad mood these past days—the cold aura surrounding him made people afraid to speak much.

Definitely angered by that Meng Guanlou.

Because of the heat, Lu Huating picked up a folding fan, fanning away the irritation from his face stroke by stroke, stirring the lacquer-black hair at his temples: “Legend has it that Chouzi had a dream. He dreamed that twenty years later, he was assassinated by an unfamiliar youth. After waking, he discovered this youth should currently still be a babbling infant. What should he do?”

“Find this infant and kill him immediately.” A hoarse female voice came from the window.

Su Run looked in shock toward the female guard feeding raw meat to the gray falcon. Her frame was thin and gaunt, her expression coldly matter-of-fact: “Not killing now—are we waiting for the enemy to grow up and be killed by him instead?”

Lu Huating’s eyes held the same coldness. Hearing these words, the smile at his lips deepened further: “Bring another cash coin.”

“Found one.” Kuang Su fumbled a coin from her sleeve. “Seal script means death, auspicious beast means life. I’ll toss it.” She threw it out.

Su Run’s pupils contracted sharply. Pressed into the chair by two people, he couldn’t feel the pain in his buttocks. He hadn’t forgotten how Lu Huating had just used a cash coin to divine a life-or-death divination—too lazy to even interrogate, he’d simply ordered that assassin’s execution.

He’d never imagined that Qun Qing, who hadn’t even met this Lu Huating’s face, was about to die? In such a casual manner at that. And all this merely because Chouzi had a dream?

Drenched in sweat, he stared as that cash coin was tossed high by Kuang Su, spinning rapidly in mid-air.

Its shadow reflected in Lu Huating’s pitch-black eyes. The instant it fell, a fan suddenly struck it down, covering the unknown fate beneath.

Lu Huating gazed at the snow-white fan surface, silent for a long while. No one could read the expression on his face.

“I told you to bring it for me, not throw it.” With a clink, the cash coin was swept into a drawer. When he looked up, his expression was indifferent, as with many things in this mansion—sometimes playful, sometimes losing interest: “Your throw doesn’t count.”

Kuang Su and Juan Su exchanged glances, pursed their lips, and retreated to the side. The female attendant turned around to continue feeding raw meat to the gray falcon, as if all were accustomed to Lu Huating’s temperament.

Lu Huating took out two recommendation letters from the drawer.

“Is the Chief Clerk really going to agree to help that Meng Baoshu and send her to Luanyi Pavilion?” Seeing him also take out the Princess Consort of Yan’s seal, Juan Su hastily asked.

He had no good impression of that Miss Meng. This young lady had knocked on their door seeking an audience multiple times—they couldn’t drive her away. She insisted she was Chief Clerk Lu’s distant younger sister, just arrived from Longxi to the palace, requesting an audience. Lu Huating didn’t even open the door, saying he didn’t know her. Subsequently, Miss Meng had someone deliver this recommendation letter along with a fragment of yellow jade pendant, then gracefully departed.

Looking at it now, it wasn’t that they didn’t know each other—the visitor simply came with ill intent. So Juan Su was worried.

Lu Huating didn’t answer, stamping the blood-red seal onto the blank space.

But his mind thought of other matters.

That Qun Qing dared send Su Run over so early was truly unexpected.

But that black dog’s blood, Meng Guanlou’s insults—these were also things that hadn’t happened in the previous life. He still needed more time to observe.

Only—he knew that female official had deep feelings for Princess Bao’an, yet deliberately had someone else take her position, cutting off her retreat one step ahead.

The seal impression was straight and clear. Lu Huating casually handed the recommendation letter to Juan Su: “Tell Meng Baoshu to remember to give me what she promised.”

—

At this very moment, Qun Qing was bidding farewell to Matron Zhang.

Matron Zhang ignored her, harshly scolding a small palace maid who’d made an error. The scolded maid ran out crying. Qun Qing knew who Matron Zhang truly wanted to scold. She walked before her and squeezed out a smile: “Matron Zhang, there are no more rats in the North Warehouse.”

Matron Zhang said coldly: “Why tell me? I can’t control you anymore!”

“Matron, please don’t be angry. I almost implicated you—that was my fault.” Qun Qing placed the North Warehouse’s account books and keys neatly before Matron Zhang, somewhat awkward: “This servant has organized these ledgers properly and returns them to you.”

Matron Zhang looked at these items and finally let out a long sigh: “I know your family was raided by that Chu emperor. You harbor resentment—not wanting to serve his daughter is understandable. But you couldn’t do it that way—speaking sarcastically before so many people! Do you know at that moment, I’d already figured out where to bury us both?”

“Where would we be buried?” Qun Qing was genuinely curious.

“That mass grave to the south, under a big tree—can you please not digress?” Matron Zhang scolded. “Princess Bao’an may be down on her luck, but even a starved camel is bigger than a horse. You absolutely had to follow that, that savage from the mountains… You think that’s a good destination?”

Matron Zhang made a gesture of two fingers walking on her palm.

“Matron, those are horse bandits, not savages.” Qun Qing reminded in a small voice, steeling herself. “Horse bandits also have factions and their own systems.”

“So you already knew everything!” Matron Zhang interrupted in surprise. “Good Lady Zheng comes from horse bandits—how could she possibly become empress? Being enfeoffed as good lady was His Majesty showing consideration for old feelings. She burned high incense for that! Anyone with eyes knows the Crown Princess position will sooner or later go to Princess Bao’an. When she becomes empress in the future, will you have good days?”

Not necessarily, Qun Qing thought.

In her previous life, the Princess’s Crown Princess position—a good portion was the result of her scheming.

She’d come to make amends for her actions, having already prepared lies, but hadn’t expected Matron Zhang to trust her so much that she’d even found excuses for her.

The family raid Matron Zhang mentioned wasn’t Qun Qing’s experience, but rather the tragic background of the original Palace Service Bureau maid “Qun Qing.” Thinking of this, Qun Qing handed Matron Zhang the winter clothes she’d sewn and folded in the basket: “I trouble the matron to have someone deliver this to my Father.”

When she’d first replaced the palace maid “Qun Qing,” Qun Qing had looked through all the traces she’d left in her quarters, discovering in the cabinet winter clothes she’d sewn halfway. This small palace maid who’d died of illness sent winter clothes to her Father every year.

“Qun Qing’s” father, Qun Cang, had been convicted for his words years ago, implicating his family in punishment as slaves, while he himself was sentenced to life imprisonment and was still locked in prison.

Seeing the winter clothes, Matron Zhang’s face showed compassion: “Tell me, having offended Princess Bao’an, what will you do in the future?”

Qun Qing heard this and couldn’t help looking toward Matron Zhang with genuine confusion: “Matron blames me for momentary impetuousness. I also want to ask matron a question.”

She asked: “All this way, you’ve cared for and insisted on supporting me—I can feel it. Aren’t you afraid of offending others?”

Matron Zhang froze.

Then her gaze became gentle as she said lightly: “I’ve been in the Palace Service Bureau for twenty years now—what is there to fear? What can that old thing Supervisor Pei do to me? You’ve also seen that Baoshu is a aristocratic family daughter. Her true destination is the Six Bureaus. Going through our procedures is merely being sent into the palace to train and accumulate connections. Precisely because of this, I must support you even more.

“Some are born destined for a path to blue clouds. You and I are merely the lowliest servants. Miss this chance to get out, and you’ll be like me—spending twenty years washing clothes and scrubbing chamber pots, grinding away all your spirit?

Matron Zhang let out a long sigh: “When I first supervised you all, I was so fierce, hitting and scolding. You never held it against me. Your ability and character never belonged in the Palace Service Bureau. I, Zhang the Fourth, don’t support just anyone. I saw clearly—you’re different from others. You’re someone who repays kindness.”

Qun Qing’s expression shifted: “Does matron have something to entrust to me? Please say it.”

Whatever it was, she would find a way to accomplish it.

“No, no—well, actually there is a private matter.” Matron Zhang said bashfully. “If you’re fortunate enough to become a palace official in the future, you must get me released from the palace. My experience is similar to yours—entered the palace as a slave as a child, never even seen what’s outside the palace. I don’t want to truly be buried in that mass grave.”

Qun Qing nodded in agreement. Matron Zhang smiled, tugged at her clothing, straightened her hair bun, also somewhat melancholy: “Such a pity—no one will help me manage the warehouse anymore. Such a large warehouse…”

“Qun Qing!” After Qun Qing had gotten on the road, she heard Matron Zhang chase after her, calling loudly from behind: “Your temperament is too unruly, but you must remember—you’re currently only a servant. You must learn to bow your head! I was joking just now—that ideal might be a bit too grand. If you can’t become a palace official, forget it. Living is more important!”

Having said this, Matron Zhang bowed low in the posture of a Palace Service Bureau maid facing a third-rank palace maid, sending her off from afar.

In the alley flanked by low, dilapidated quarters, wind blew Qun Qing’s skirt and silk scarf high. Across the many eaves, she gazed at that short figure, her heart stirring with emotion.

In her previous life, single-mindedly seeking death, she’d seemingly never looked back, thus never seeing that along this road were many people who’d secretly protected her and seen her off from behind.

So her life was this precious.

Qun Qing held back the heat in her eyes and also bowed down. Across several alleys, she bent in return salute, wind stirring her sleeves.

In this life… living was more important.