The clear light over Eternal Peace Lake was perfect, rippling waves shimmering brilliantly.

A floating pier bridge extended straight to the lake’s heart, connecting to a red-lacquered square pavilion with a pyramidal roof. Above hung a plaque reading “Thankful Spring.” On the western lakeshore, willows draped in mist, tall trees layered in green, vaguely revealing stone steps near the water. Previously, when gathering willow branches to wash Xu Hexue’s face, Ni Su had wet her shoes there.

In Thankful Spring Pavilion, Ni Su placed the tea snacks and fruit drinks on the stone table. Facing the wind, she stood with Xu Hexue at the railing and asked him: “Is this place still the same as in your memory?”

If the memories weren’t profound, he wouldn’t have mentioned this place to her.

“No different.”

Xu Hexue held a piece of pastry—Ni Su had stuffed it into his hand. All along this journey, he still hadn’t taken a single bite.

The rippling waves on the lake, the silken willows on the shore, and this Thankful Spring Pavilion standing in the lake’s heart were identical to what he’d seen in his dreams. Only now he was more presentable, no longer that mass of wretchedly formless blood mist, but instead wearing clean clothing with neatly combed hair.

And all of this was because of the person now standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?”

Xu Hexue suddenly heard her ask.

“What?”

“I’m thinking that later I should gather more willow branches to take back,” Ni Su propped her elbows on the railing, “so that if we encounter rainy days, you can bathe and cleanse dust using water boiled with willow leaves.”

Her tone held a trace of teasing.

Xu Hexue looked at her. The clear wind blew a few strands of fine hair at her temples to brush gently against her fair cheeks. Along this journey, Xu Hexue had seen her in many states—disheveled, proper, covered in injuries, her eyes often red and swollen.

The deaths of two close relatives in succession had pressed down so she couldn’t breathe. But today, her shoulders that were usually held straight and tense seemed to have relaxed slightly.

“Though this lead regarding Miao Yiyang is useless, among those officials related to the winter examination that Yinye Bureau Commissioner Han Qing arrested, someone must be implicated.”

He said.

The Yinye Bureau’s interrogation methods were incomparable to those of Guangning Residence. Han Qing had displayed his deep schemes since youth. He didn’t concern himself with this matter for the sake of Ni Su’s deceased brother Ni Qinglan, but was strategizing with Meng Yunxian. This was precisely why Xu Hexue had been determined to send Ni Su from the Guangning Residence Records Office prison to the Yinye Bureau.

Those in power might not truly care about an examination candidate’s death, but if that candidate’s death could become a chess piece they could utilize, then the justice Ni Su sought might be possible.

“You truly know what’s in my heart.”

Ni Su looked at him, stunned for a moment, then turned her face aside and murmured: “What kind of official were you before? How are you so able to perceive people’s hearts?”

Xu Hexue paused. He shifted his gaze away, seeing the boat gradually approaching on the lake. Wind tangled with willow threads, rustling. The full lake’s clear light met him face-on. He said: “I served as an official, but actually, it wasn’t really being an official.”

“What does that mean?”

Ni Su didn’t understand.

“The office I held was not what my teacher and elder brother had hoped for in their hearts.” Perhaps because of this robe he wore that, though not quite fitted, was very clean and proper. Perhaps because she had combed his hair for him before the bronze mirror this morning. Or perhaps because at the Grand Marshal’s residence, that woman named Cai Chunxu had once again reminded him of his transgression—he suddenly also wanted to mention some things to her. “Back then, my teacher—right here in this very place—parted ways with me.”

Ni Su had thought that the Thankful Spring Pavilion at Eternal Peace Lake, which he so deeply remembered, should be a place that carried all manner of hopes and joys from his life.

Yet it turned out to be another place where dreams were shattered.

Her fingers gripping the bamboo cup tightened somewhat. Only after a long while did she look toward him.

Even if this person before her was gaunt in form, he still possessed excellent bone structure. Changing into this round-collared robe of blue-black fabric with woven silver dark floral patterns, he didn’t look like a ghost or specter at all, but was full of refined scholarly bearing, the elegance of a gentleman.

“Then I ask you,”

Ni Su spoke: “In your life, did you ever commit acts of corruption, perversion of law, or harm to the innocent?”

“Never.”

Xu Hexue met her gaze. “But I owe apologies to many people. Even more—I am guilty.”

“Since it’s not the above crimes, what kind of guilt could it be?”

When he didn’t speak, Ni Su continued: “In this world, some people are skilled at imposing guilt on others, while others are skilled at blaming themselves in their hearts. Xu Ziling, is your guilt something you determined yourself?”

Xu Hexue was momentarily speechless.

Actually, he bore even heavier crimes, but what truly made it difficult for him to find peace after wandering Youdu for nearly a hundred years was the guilt he had imposed upon himself in his own heart.

“I’m different from you. I never blame myself.”

Ni Su thought for a moment, then smiled. “Of course, I also never blame others. I can see you’re not that type either. Someone like you only engages in self-reflection, never blaming others.”

For instance, that bite mark on her neck—he still dwelt upon it with concern.

“Your teacher disagreeing with you doesn’t mean he was wrong. The divergence between you and your teacher also isn’t your fault. It’s like how my father didn’t agree with me learning the Ni family’s medical arts because he valued the Ni family rules. I can’t say he was wrong, but I also don’t think it was wrong for me to ask my brother to be my teacher and learn medicine. It’s just that people are always different—it’s not necessary to divide everything into right and wrong.”

Ni Su was accustomed to his reticence and accepted his silence as he lowered his eyes at this moment. She asked: “Do you want to go see your teacher?”

Almost at the same moment Ni Su’s words fell, Xu Hexue suddenly raised his eyelids.

In his crystalline eyes reflected a vast shimmering light, but only for an instant. That inexplicable desolation enveloped him again. The clear wind stirred the willows with a rustling sound. He gently shook his head and told her: “I can no longer see my teacher.”

If you dare go to the border garrison, then never come to see me again.

That year in Thankful Spring Pavilion, his teacher had stood at the very spot where he now stood and solemnly said these words to him.

He could come to Thankful Spring Pavilion. He could remember his teacher here. But he could no longer see his teacher.

Ni Su already understood his stubbornness, his consistency between knowledge and action. When he said he could not, it meant he truly could not. Ni Su was unwilling to force him to accept her help merely to repay him—that wouldn’t be true repayment.

Just then the old boatman below had drawn closer to Thankful Spring Pavilion and was looking up into the pavilion. She said: “Then shall we go play on the boat?”

The old man couldn’t see that beside the woman in the pavilion was also a lonely soul. He only saw the woman beckoning to him, so he immediately nodded with a smile and rowed over: “Miss, would you like to tour the lake by boat? This old one’s boat also has some ink painting paper, fresh fruit. If you want fish, this old one can also catch them fresh and cook them for you on the boat.”

“Then please catch a fish and cook us some fresh fish.”

Ni Su carried the unfinished tea snacks and two cups of fruit drink. The old man helped her aboard, but the boat’s edge was slippery. When her embroidered shoe stepped on it, she nearly slipped. The old man quickly steadied her, and at the same time, Xu Hexue following at her side also grasped her wrist.

Ni Su turned her face. The sunlight was bright and dazzling, while his face was pale but his spirit clear and his bones refined.

“Thank you.”

Ni Su said.

Xu Hexue’s lashes moved slightly. He pressed his lips together without speaking, but the old man hurried to help her onto the boat, saying: “What thanks does the miss speak of? This boat’s edge somehow got some slippery moss on it. This old one has wronged you.”

“You can’t always see that edge either.”

Ni Su shook her head and sat down in the boat.

Just as the old man said, the black-awninged boat did contain some ink painting paper and fresh melons and fruits. Ni Su noticed a lake scenery painting that a previous passenger had drawn but not taken away.

Her heart itched with desire. She picked up the brush, dipped it several times in the brush washer filled with clear water, and began gazing out at the scenery on the lake.

Ni Su actually had no painting skills. At home she rarely painted. It wasn’t that her brother Ni Qinglan hadn’t taught her, but she only focused on studying medical texts and didn’t have much time to devote to painting.

The small private school at home didn’t teach such things either—only enough for basic literacy. The Four Books and Five Classics she’d read were also taught by her brother.

She couldn’t draw well the mountain outline in the distant mist, and the nearer lake light and willow colors were also lacking. Ni Su simply devoted all her attention to the nearest Thankful Spring Pavilion.

The pavilion was taking some shape. She turned her face and very quietly asked: “Xu Ziling, is my Thankful Spring Pavilion painting good-looking?”

Xu Hexue looked at the red-lacquered pyramidal pavilion on the paper. During his life, although he was usually unrestrained when socializing and playing with good friends, in matters of scholarship he had always been taught quite strictly by Zhang Jing, such that he was meticulous. Even in calligraphy and painting, he strove intensely for both form and substance.

This Thankful Spring Pavilion she’d painted truly couldn’t be called good-looking—neither form nor substance—but meeting her eager, excited gaze, Xu Hexue gently nodded: “Mm.”

Having received his praise, Ni Su’s eyes brightened further. She asked him again: “Can you paint?”

She forgot to lower her voice. The old man fishing at the front turned his head: “Miss, what did you say?”

“Ah,” meeting the old man’s puzzled gaze, Ni Su quickly said, “I was just talking to myself.”

Hearing this, the old man nodded.

“Quick, he’s not looking this way. You paint.”

Seeing the old man turn back to focus on fishing, Ni Su stuffed the brush into Xu Hexue’s hand and spoke in a low voice.

Holding a brush—it seemed to be something from very long ago.

Xu Hexue examined the brush in his hand. It was far removed from the brushes in his vague memories, for it merely used bamboo as its frame, with some uneven mountain goat hair that constantly shed.

Like one nearing home who grows timid,

He gripped it, then released it.

Not until the young lady sitting beside him urged him in a low voice did he grip it again, dip it in color, and sketch on the paper.

Somehow, it actually wasn’t unfamiliar.

Ni Su knew he must be very learned, but she hadn’t known that with just a few simple strokes, he could make the spirit the Thankful Spring Pavilion should possess leap onto the paper. She watched in amazement as he painted Thankful Spring Pavilion, then watched him remedy her chaotic brush strokes on the mountain outline, the ink-dispersed lake scenery.

White egrets playing in the water, willow threads moving in the wind.

Nothing was not beautiful.

Ni Su realized with surprise that every stroke she had placed on the paper had been transformed by him into essential color.

Xu Hexue was almost immersed in this brush. Holding it, for a moment he almost believed he was not a ghostly remnant soul, but like the young lady beside him, still present amid this mortal world’s scenery.

“Here, can you paint you and your teacher?”

Her hand suddenly pointed toward that Thankful Spring Pavilion.

Xu Hexue’s motion holding the brush paused. Seeing the old man at the bow catch a fish, he stuffed the brush back into her hand.

Their fingers touched—ice and snow yet unmelted.

Here the clear wind drifted in threads. Xu Hexue turned his face to look at her, only to find the fine hair at her temples blown up, gently brushing across his cheek.

Two pairs of eyes met. In each other’s eyes, both seemed to reflect the shimmering lake light.

A call from the old man made Ni Su immediately turn her head. She hurriedly discussed with the old man what kind of fish dish to eat, then returned her gaze to the painting and spoke quietly to the person beside her:

“If you’re unwilling, then paint you and me from just now in the pavilion. That would also be fine.”