Yin Minghui and Xue Tao slipped away to a secluded spot. Xue Tao said excitedly, “Miss, Jin Shan just sent word — Seventh Young Master is at the pavilion in the main garden.”

Yin Minghui’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Is he alone?”

“Alone,” Xue Tao confirmed. “Jin Shan says that Seventh Young Master once planted some plum blossoms by the stream over there — he must have gone to tend to them.”

Yin Minghui knew Shi Ting enjoyed keeping animals and tending plants, but she hadn’t expected him to grow plum blossoms as well.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

The two of them hurried to the pavilion in the main garden. Even in winter, the trees here stayed green, giving the place an air of lush vitality rather than desolation.

A small stream wound beneath the pavilion, meandering along its course, flanked by green pines and cypresses and jutting stones of strange shapes.

Yin Minghui had barely rounded the corner of the winding path when she spotted Shi Ting crouching by the bank of the stream in the distance, his attention fixed on something below.

He wore a fitted ink-black long robe today. Though it was winter clothing, it was anything but bulky — instead, it made him look even more tall and well-formed.

Yin Minghui’s gaze settled on his back and wouldn’t move.

“Ahem.” Xue Tao noticed Yin Minghui’s dazed, lovestruck expression and gave a soft cough to bring her back to herself.

Yin Minghui quickly recomposed her face, then began talking casually with Xue Tao as if just passing by — though she made sure her voice was loud enough to carry.

She didn’t want Shi Ting to know she had deliberately tracked down his whereabouts. She wanted to stage a series of chance encounters, and chance encounters required something that felt like fate.

Sure enough, the moment she spoke, Shi Ting heard her. He turned from where he was crouching, his bright eyes dark as night, his thin and beautifully shaped lips pressed into a clean, straight line.

Something seemed to brush against the very tip of Yin Minghui’s heart. Her pulse quickened uncontrollably.

“Seventh Young Master?” Yin Minghui came back to her senses and walked quickly to the white jade bridge arching over the stream.

Shi Ting stood, giving her a slight nod. “Miss Yin.”

“What a coincidence.” Yin Minghui smiled. “What brings Seventh Young Master out here?”

“Tending to the plum blossoms.”

“Seventh Young Master planted plum blossoms?” Yin Minghui followed the white jade bridge down with curiosity. When she reached Shi Ting’s side, she saw before him several dozen plum trees growing with remarkable vigor.

“So many plum blossoms!” she exclaimed in admiration. “When they bloom in winter, this must be an extraordinary sight.”

Shi Ting had planted the plum blossoms because of the time they had visited Tai Mountain — at Wen Xu’s home, they had admired a sweeping plum grove together, and Yan Qing had never stopped thinking about it since. Every now and then she would bring up their outing to search for plum blossoms through the snow.

The Shi Mansion grounds were large, but creating an entire plum grove felt like too much to ask for. So Shi Ting had planted as many plum trees as he could in this spot, so that when the snow fell, he could bring Yan Qing here to enjoy them.

By then, white ice crystals would have formed on the stream’s surface, snowflakes would blanket the waterway, and the plum blossoms on both banks would be in full bloom, their fragrance drifting for miles.

Just imagining her delight made his heart go soft.

“I didn’t realize Seventh Young Master enjoyed growing plum blossoms.” Yin Minghui’s voice held admiration, though it dipped with a touch of regret. “What a pity — by the time winter comes and these blossoms open, I’ll have already left the Shi Mansion. I suppose I won’t have the fortune of seeing them.”

“With Miss Yin’s connection to the Madam,” Shi Ting said lightly, “coming to visit the Shi Mansion again in the winter isn’t out of the question.”

Yin Minghui took this to mean Shi Ting wouldn’t mind her returning to admire the plum blossoms in winter — which of course meant he had feelings for her. Her heart bloomed with happiness.

“Is there anything I can help with, Seventh Young Master?”

Shi Ting glanced at her. “There’s no need — you’ll dirty your clothes, Miss Yin.”

“It’s nothing — what’s a little dirt?” Yin Minghui rolled up her sleeves and crouched down beside him to help.

In truth, she had no idea what she was doing. She simply watched what Shi Ting did and imitated him as best she could. Not far off, Xue Tao stood with a smile playing at her lips.

Viewed from behind, the two of them looked remarkably well-matched.

After some time, Xue Tao noticed someone approaching in the distance — a tall figure in a pale blue long robe, his bearing distinguished and refined.

She recognized him as Shi Guang, the Second Young Master of the Shi household. Afraid he might spot Shi Ting and Yin Minghui together and damage Yin Minghui’s reputation, she hurried toward Yin Minghui.

“You’re doing that wrong.”

Just as Xue Tao called out “Miss,” she suddenly heard Shi Ting’s voice: “If you turn the soil that way, it won’t loosen properly.”

Yin Minghui was so absorbed that she could no longer hear Xue Tao’s call. Her entire mind and ears were filled with Shi Ting’s resonant, magnetic voice, and she gazed at his profile in a daze, her thoughts drifting far away.

He was actually teaching her how to turn soil? She had heard that this Seventh Young Master had little patience, and that he was cold and curt with everyone. The fact that he was teaching her personally meant he treated her differently from others.

Yin Minghui was certain now that her feelings were not one-sided — he had responded.

“Miss.” Xue Tao called again, watching anxiously as Shi Guang walked up onto the bridge.

Shi Guang spotted two people crouching by the riverside from a distance. One was Shi Ting, and assuming the woman beside him was Yan Qing, he deliberately took a detour to come over. But the woman wasn’t Yan Qing at all — it was Yin Minghui, who was staying temporarily with the Shi household.

At that moment, Yin Minghui and Shi Ting were occupied with something, their heads close together. To Shi Guang, that proximity spoke of unmistakable intimacy.

A surge of anger rose straight from Shi Guang’s chest.

Shi Ting was the man Yan Qing cared for with all her heart. He had watched how she felt about Shi Ting — and yet here was Shi Ting, carrying on with another woman behind Yan Qing’s back. He felt indignant on her behalf, and an urge rose in him to march forward and confront Shi Ting directly.

But even as the thought formed, Shi Guang stood rooted to the bridge and did not move.

Seeing those two together had first brought anger — but within moments, his mind shifted.

He knew Yan Qing’s temperament well. She was someone who would rather break than bend. If she learned about Shi Ting and Yin Minghui, she would surely abandon Shi Ting without hesitation.

And if Yan Qing turned away from Shi Ting — might she not then spare a glance for him?

Shi Ting was the greatest obstacle standing between him and Yan Qing. If this opportunity could drive a wedge between them, perhaps Yan Qing would come to him in the end.

And the appearance of this Yin Minghui… was almost certainly Qian Lan’s handiwork.

With those thoughts settled in his mind, Shi Guang made no move to confront anyone. He turned and left quickly.

Yin Minghui was still lost in her private happiness. From the corner of his eye, Shi Ting had already caught the slender figure hurrying away from the white jade bridge.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow, meaningful smile.

Yin Minghui had intended to stay and help Shi Ting tend the plum blossoms, but after crouching for a while, her legs and feet had gone numb, and she desperately wanted somewhere to rest.

Shi Ting, by contrast, was steady and composed, still as a carved stone, his focus entirely on the soil in his hands.

Yin Minghui thought to herself: it was no wonder Shi Ting had been tempered in the military police division — his endurance was beyond compare. But she was not built for this. She had only been crouching a short while and already felt utterly spent.

Still, reluctant to waste this rare chance to be alone with him, Yin Minghui gritted her teeth and held on no matter how tired she was.

“Miss, are you tired?” Xue Tao helpfully offered her a way out.

Yin Minghui immediately looked at Shi Ting, who glanced over with his usual calm expression. “If you’re tired, go and rest.”

Yin Minghui felt a wave of relief and immediately grabbed onto Xue Tao as she stood — barely managing not to buckle under legs that had gone completely numb, letting her full weight hang off Xue Tao instead.

“It’s getting late — you should head back, Miss Yin.” Shi Ting stood as well. “Thank you for your help.”

“Don’t mention it.” Yin Minghui forced a cheerful smile. “I learned quite a bit from Seventh Young Master today, and I put in some effort — so when the plum blossoms open, I’ll be able to come and admire them with a clear conscience.”

Shi Ting gave a noncommittal sound and said nothing more.

She’d barely scratched at the dirt and already she was calling it hard work…

Yin Minghui knew Shi Ting was a man of few words and didn’t take it to heart. As far as she was concerned, she had just taken the most solid step yet toward her future in the Shi household. She could almost see her glittering destiny beckoning to her with open arms.

Over the next several days, Yin Minghui used the information passed to her through Jin Shan to engineer chance encounters with Shi Ting at various spots throughout the mansion. Shi Ting could not be called warm toward her, but he didn’t shut her out either — sometimes he would even exchange a few more words with her.

Yin Minghui had felt discouraged by Shi Ting’s cold demeanor at times, but Xue Tao consoled her: “Seventh Young Master is like this with everyone. I’ve heard he’s cold-faced toward all women and never says a single unnecessary word to any of them. So, Miss, you can be perfectly at ease — he treats you differently from all the rest.”

“Really?” Yin Minghui felt somewhat better after hearing that.

“Miss told me to go around asking the servants here, and I made very thorough inquiries. Seventh Young Master is simply that kind of person — cold as a glacier. So, Miss, you are most certainly the one who will melt that glacier.”

Yin Minghui had given Xue Tao quite a few things to use in winning over the Shi household’s servants — only those things, in Xue Tao’s hands, had been replaced with cheap pastries and small trinkets before being passed along.

“We can’t just keep staying here indefinitely,” Yin Minghui said. “People will start to gossip. I need to think of something.”

“What if Miss pretended to fall ill? If you’re sick, no one would dare ask you to leave.”

“Yes, yes — then go tell Auntie I’ve come down with a cold. Ask her to have some medicine sent over. Tell her there’s no need to come see me in person — I wouldn’t want her to catch it.”

“Understood, Miss.”

And so, just as Yin Minghui had recovered, she fell ill again with a sudden cold and was unable to leave the Shi Mansion.

During that time, Yin Minghui received some fruit — Xue Tao said it was sent by Jin Shan. Who Jin Shan represented went without saying.

In that season, obtaining fruit from the south took more than just money — it required genuine care and effort to acquire such a thing at all.

On the second day of Yin Minghui’s illness, Shi Guang was passing by and overheard two junior maidservants exchanging gossip while cracking melon seeds.

“That Miss Yin is sick again.”

“Didn’t she just recover? How is she ill again?”

One maidservant lowered her voice conspiratorially: “Do you think Miss Yin has fallen for someone here? Otherwise, why would she keep finding excuses to stay?”

“So which young master do you think it is — the Second Young Master or the Seventh?”

—