Hearing Han Linfeng say this, Guo Yan reined in his grinning somewhat and cast another suspicious glance at Miss Su.

And indeed — the young lady’s large eyes were beautiful, yet they did not look at anyone. When she made her way back to her seat, she moved by feeling, supported by her maid’s guidance.

What a cruel trick of fate upon so lovely a face. What a pity — what a pity. Though, a beauty who gazed without seeing, navigating everything by the touch of her delicate hands… if one were alone with her, there might be a certain charm to that…

Guo Yan’s head was full of nothing but the froth of pleasure and amusement. Because of Han Linfeng’s veiled warning, he did not dare say anything openly offensive — but he absolutely refused to go back out and stand in the rain looking for another shelter.

The downpour was this heavy — where else was there to go? The rest of the companions behind him also raised a chorus of protests.

At this impasse, Han Linfeng finally shifted slightly to one side, allowing them to file inside one by one.

Fortunately the thatched shelter was spacious enough; they set up a small table and a bonfire on the far side of the room.

Outside, the rain was now coming down harder than ever. Seeing them come in, Su Luoyun had already picked up her things intending to leave.

But she had not taken two steps outside the shelter before the rain drove her back. In the low-lying areas of the terrain, the ground had become virtually a river — even walking on foot would have been extraordinarily difficult.

Since Han Shizi made no move to trouble her, she and Xiangcao had no choice but to remain and wait out the rain.

Guo Yan, across the bonfire, could not quite suppress his restlessness as he stole glances at Su Luoyun. But when the beauty returned to the shelter, she had her maid fetch the veiled hat from the carriage and put it on, concealing her radiant features entirely beneath it.

Denied even the pleasure of looking, Guo Yan lowered his voice and asked Han Linfeng which household this Miss Su was from. Han Linfeng played the fool and neatly evaded the question.

Guo Yan cursed him inwardly, suspecting that this fellow had learned some bad habits, being so secretive and possessive — and after all the times Guo Yan had included him in every meal and outing, too.

Outside, the sound of rain continued without cease; listened to long enough, it made one drowsy.

Guo Yan had already drunk a fair amount at the outdoor banquet by the stream earlier, and now, with nothing to do, the sound of rain lulled him into torpor. While the water for tea was still heating, Guo Yan could not hold out any longer. He had his attendants spread out fur pelts and thick cushions, then settled in with the alluring woman he had brought along and was soon snoring loudly on the makeshift bed on the floor.

The others also found spots to sleep and doze, or gathered in small clusters of two or three to laugh and chat, each amusing themselves in their own way.

Su Luoyun and Xiangcao sat alone in their corner of the shelter. The two groups had nothing to do with each other, like water from separate wells.

These idle young lords of leisure, in between their amusements, also spoke of current affairs.

What occupied their talk most was Cao Sheng, the rebel who had been stirring up trouble in the northern territories. Reportedly, Cao Sheng had raised the banner of reclaiming lost lands, was recruiting soldiers and purchasing horses, and had been locked in battle with the cavalry of the Tiefu Kingdom of the north — his momentum growing ever more brazen and unchecked.

Not long ago, he had with great difficulty been captured, only for armed outlaws to intercept the convoy midway and brazenly seize him back.

Now warfare had broken out again in the north; the Khan of the Tiefu Kingdom was furious, and had exchanged sharp words with the Great Wei on the matter multiple times, with language so heated it threatened to shred the existing ceasefire agreement.

These days of hard-won peace, disrupted without end by a handful of rebels — the nobles present seemed to have no shortage of grievances. Their general view was that the northern territories were barren wasteland, and going to war over a few strips of infertile land would truly be sacrificing the greater for the lesser.

Su Luoyun listened in silence, and could not help but feel a quiet stirring of emotion.

Her maternal uncle, Hu Xuesong, was in fact one of Cao Sheng’s followers. After all, the loss of twenty northern prefectures had been a humiliation that could hardly be swallowed. Older subjects still carried with them the shame of the siege of Qiutai all those years ago.

What son of Great Wei did not dream of reclaiming the homeland and achieving unification at last?

Now that the court advocated negotiating peace with the Tiefu Kingdom, hot-blooded men like Cao Sheng who defied the court’s position and raised private armies had been branded rebels.

Hu Xuesong, though he longed in his heart for the recovery of lost territories, did not dare express support openly. He only gave voice to his feelings in private, over wine with his niece, sighing out lines about why a true man does not take up his sword — the words of a man with aspirations he could not act upon.

This Cao Sheng had quite a devoted following among the common people.

But Su Luoyun did not wish to dwell on any of this. For the fugitive who had once taken refuge on her boat — the one who had later spirited Cao Sheng away — had hidden aboard her vessel. She had no desire to become tangled up in such dangerous affairs.

The one who seemed equally disinclined, she suspected, was Han Shizi. While she could hear the others growing animated in their discussion, she heard no voice from Han Linfeng joining in. A young man of his sort, devoted to pleasure and drink, would naturally have little interest in the bloodshed of current events.

What occupied Su Luoyun’s thoughts now was what Han Shizi had said earlier. Perceptive as she was, she had of course heard the protective intent behind his words. It seemed this young lord’s heart was, at its core, not unkind.

So when Han Linfeng’s manservant came over to ask whether they would like some hot tea, Su Luoyun did not refuse.

But when the teacup was placed in her hands, she held it only for the warmth and did not drink. To be knocked unconscious like Xiangcao had been, out here where there was no help to be had — that would truly be a wretched fate.

Han Linfeng was seated on the fur pelt across the bonfire, too languid to engage with his companions’ conversation, yet his gaze drifted — seemingly without intention — to settle on Su Luoyun sitting quietly to one side.

Running into this young woman again today had been entirely unexpected; at the moment he caught sight of her, his heart had given an involuntary lurch.

He was not the only one who found the encounter unwelcome.

He could see that Miss Su sat with her back ramrod straight, turned away from them, her posture rigid — the very picture of someone enduring the situation with determined patience.

Su Luoyun, listening to the rain outside, was genuinely growing anxious. They had been out for a very long time, and had not even had the chance to eat lunch. On top of her anxiety, she was in truth also suffering from hunger that was growing difficult to bear — her stomach was growling in a most embarrassing fashion.

She could only hope that the nobles on the other side were laughing loudly enough not to notice her predicament…

“I have some pastries here. If the young lady does not mind their simplicity, please take some to tide yourself over.” Just as her stomach gave another long, rolling rumble, a man’s voice suddenly sounded at her side.

Su Luoyun startled. She prided herself on sharp hearing, yet for some reason she could never make out this young lord’s footsteps.

While the others were all talking and laughing among themselves, Han Linfeng had quietly risen and made his way to Su Luoyun’s side, where he now held out a box of pastries.

When he noticed the teacup still untouched in Su Luoyun’s hands, something seemed to register in his expression. With one hand he lifted the lid from the pastry box, took out a piece of pastry, and broke it in two — offering one half to Su Luoyun and placing the other half in his own mouth, chewing it with deliberate thoroughness.

Once he had swallowed, he said: “Not bad — this piece hasn’t gone soft with moisture. I’ve eaten mine; you may take yours without concern.”

Though he did not say so directly, Su Luoyun understood that he had perceived her wariness, and that this act of tasting it first was his way of demonstrating that he was a man of straightforward character.

She could hardly refuse further. After thanking the Shizi, she removed her veiled hat and slowly ate the half piece of pastry, which at last eased her hunger somewhat.

Han Linfeng settled himself on the fur pelt across the bonfire from Su Luoyun and said in an idle tone: “Miss Su, what brings you to shelter from the rain out here?”

Su Luoyun lowered her head and explained that she had come in search of fragrance ingredients to blend a scent for the Prince Consort Zhao, and added that the Princess was pressing for it urgently — she would be going to the Princess’s residence that very evening upon her return.

The latter half, of course, was a fabrication. She had no occasion to casually step across the threshold of the Princess’s residence.

The implication was plain: I am currently on an errand for Princess Yuyang — Shizi, if you are wise, do not trouble me.

Han Linfeng raised an eyebrow. He found it rather amusing that this young lady had wasted no time in borrowing his own trick, playing the borrowed might of a tiger with commendable flair.

Pretending not to catch the meaning beneath her words, he added a log to the bonfire and said: “You really shouldn’t have taken on this commission. The Prince Consort has always detested men who dabble in cosmetics and flowery scents. If what you blend is not to his liking, I’m afraid the Princess may direct her displeasure at you.”

This was precisely what Su Luoyun had been worried about. Hearing Han Linfeng say it, she could not help but bite her lip and murmur to herself: “Can it truly be that the Prince Consort has no fragrance he favors at all?”

Han Linfeng caught the sight of her teeth lightly worrying her red lips, and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly — then without any change of expression, he turned his gaze back to the fire burning brightly before him.

Her words seemed to have stirred something in some long-buried memory of his. After a long pause, he said quietly: “A fragrance one truly favors… is most likely bound up with a memory one cannot let go of.”

Su Luoyun heard this and sat very still for a moment, lost in thought. Indeed — if one had truly loved something, how could it be easily relinquished?

Just as she was: the fragrance she loved most, even now, was the jasmine scent her mother had cherished in life. Every time she caught that scent, it was as though she were carried back to childhood — her mother seated before her dressing mirror, smoothing her hair with jasmine-scented oil, turning to smile at her…

Lost in this thought, something struck Su Luoyun with sudden clarity, like a splash of cold water clearing her mind in an instant.

Cannot let go? The Prince Consort had once withstood tremendous pressure, refusing absolutely to divorce his wife, and after her death had remained alone for three years.

Had the Emperor not been so devoted to his daughter and pressed so relentlessly, the Prince Consort might very well have chosen never to remarry at all. Then what the Prince Consort could not let go of — would it not be the scent of his deceased wife?

The only question was: what fragrance had the Prince Consort’s late wife favored?

So she ventured to ask Han Linfeng what kind of person the Prince Consort’s late wife had been.

Han Linfeng paused for a moment, as if he had grasped Su Luoyun’s line of thinking. He considered, then said: “I’ve only been in the capital two years, but my manservants know the servants of the Prince Consort’s household quite well. When we return, I’ll have someone seek out wherever the late wife’s personal maids are now. Ask them, and you’ll know all you need to.”

Su Luoyun had not expected Han Shizi to be willing to help her in this way. Grateful as she was, she could not help but raise a measure of caution as well, and merely thanked him politely, saying that she had only asked idly, and the Shizi need not go to any particular trouble on her account.

Han Linfeng’s lips curved slightly: “I can see the young lady does not like owing favors. As it happens, neither do I. Helping you is also a matter of repaying what I owe.”

Su Luoyun was somewhat puzzled — when had he come to owe her anything?

Han Linfeng had no intention of bringing up the incident on the boat, when a blade had been pressed against Su Luoyun’s throat. He said only with easy composure: “My carriage once struck the young lady — that is a debt that cannot be overpaid no matter how I try. Besides, the Princess does not like anyone to raise the subject of the Prince Consort’s late wife. It is better that Miss Su not approach her about it directly, to avoid drawing unnecessary trouble…”

He was still speaking when the rain outside gradually began to ease. Han Linfeng rose and looked out, then turned to look at Guo Yan and the others sprawled out in sleep.

He had spent enough time in their company to know exactly what kind of character Guo Yan was. Once this man sobered up, there was bound to be more mischief.

He turned to Su Luoyun and said: “Since you intend to go to the Princess’s residence, you had best leave while the rain has stopped. Your carriage wheels are too narrow — they won’t do well on the muddy road. I still need to wait here for my companions to sleep off the wine. You are welcome to use the Shizi estate’s carriage.”

Su Luoyun demurred for a while, but this young lord, for all his apparent mildness, was in fact rather overbearing — not the sort who seemed to enjoy consulting anyone’s opinion.

Before she had finished declining, his manservants had already made quick work of transferring her boxes and belongings into the Shizi estate’s carriage.

With no way to refuse, Su Luoyun thanked him and climbed into the Shizi’s carriage to take her leave.

Settling into the spacious carriage, she was greeted by the lingering trace of cosmetic fragrance drifting through the interior.

As she reached out to feel her surroundings, her hand found a tea tray fitted with magnetic clasps set into a side table mounted to the carriage wall. The zisha clay teapot she touched had a smooth, warm, well-seasoned quality — clearly the vessel of someone who had tended it with care for a long time, and held it dear.

Su Luoyun’s fingertips were sensitive; running them over the surface, she found what seemed to be a row of small characters engraved on the base of the pot. Carefully tracing them out, she recognized a line from the Tao Te Ching: “I alone remain still, giving no sign.”

Lines of this kind — cultivating composure and self-reflection — appeared frequently on fine zisha teapots, meant for their owners to turn over in their hands and weigh in their minds.

A line that suited Han Linfeng, one would expect, should be something more like “if today there is wine, drink deep today” — something urging one to seize pleasure while it lasts.

Yet this line of standing apart from the world, watching all others laugh and play while remaining alone in clear-eyed stillness and unmoved calm — it sat at odds with the Han Linfeng she had formed in her mind.

Though, the objects surrounding a man of rank were mostly chosen by his attendants or gifted by his companions, so a motto that did not match its owner was not especially remarkable.

Su Luoyun let out a soft sigh and gently set the teapot back in its place, her thoughts turning to how the carriage’s owner had needed only a handful of words to help her cut through the fog and resolve a problem that had been troubling her greatly.

For the first time, something like curiosity stirred within her: this Han Linfeng — what sort of person was he, beneath the surface?