Zhang Ting’an was a general — a general who had fought his way out of Xuanhe Pass with blade and spear. How could he ever be content to be kept in the rear palace, tending flowers and amusing birds?

But the step down His Majesty offered was a genuinely good-faith gesture: as long as Zhang Ting’an agreed, she would pardon the uncles and clan elders of the Zhang Family, leaving the family’s century-old foundations untouched.

Chen Baoxiang had already dimly sensed how things would fall.

She scrunched up her face.

Yinyue watched her reaction and blinked: “Are you worried about Elder Brother too?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m worried about your second brother.”

Yinyue was genuinely surprised: “What is there to worry about with Second Brother? He’s set up his own household now, and finally realized his ambition of entering the Three Departments. All the younger generation in our family is practically dying of envy.”

Chen Baoxiang was quiet.

She reflected on whether the threads in her own head had gotten tangled — Zhang Fengqing had money, had position. If someone with those circumstances could still be considered to have it hard, then what did that leave for everyone else?

But when she finished reflecting, she decided she hadn’t thought it wrong.

No matter how much money he had, no matter how comfortable his life appeared, having no freedom over oneself was having no freedom, and suffering was suffering. Feelings were not like silver coins — they treated the poor and the wealthy the same.

She could guess what decision he was going to make, and of course she was worried about him.

That was only natural.

Zhang Yinyue changed the subject and began chattering away about her work at the Bureau of Medicine Preparation, and about how her superior Cen Xuanyue had looked after her. She seemed to be doing quite well there.

Chen Baoxiang sat on the stone bench, quietly swinging her legs, her peripheral vision drifting toward the direction of the main hall.

After a long while, the first one to emerge was Zhang Zhixu, as she had expected.

He stood for a moment at the doorway, his gaze sweeping around, clearly searching for her.

“Over here.” Chen Baoxiang stood up and waved at him, then smiled at Yinyue: “We’ll head off first. Let’s talk more next time.”

Yinyue was a little reluctant to let her go: “Next time — who knows when that will be.”

“Don’t worry.” Chen Baoxiang said. “There will be plenty of chances.”

With Second Brother and Second Uncle having fallen out like that, how could there really be many more chances?

Yinyue sighed repeatedly, but said nothing more, and dutifully saw them out through the side gate.

The two of them did not take a carriage, planning to walk home along the lane.

Zhang Zhixu’s expression was uneasy. He stared at the bricks underfoot for a stretch of road, hesitating over how to begin.

Chen Baoxiang had advised him before — to look after himself, to be happy. He had agreed readily at the time, yet having returned here, he still found it impossible to stand aside from his elder brother’s predicament.

Elder Brother did not want to enter the rear palace, and a man like him was not suited for the rear palace.

But the one he faced was the new Emperor of Dasheng. Li Bingsheng didn’t even need to issue a decree — the moment she made her wishes known, the Zhang Family would find a way to send Elder Brother over regardless.

Right now, only by stepping forward himself could he help ease the pressure on his elder brother.

Yet if he did so, he was afraid Chen Baoxiang would be disappointed in him — would think him weak-willed and irresolute. He was also afraid she would find his family complicated, full of trouble.

He rubbed his fingertips along his sleeve cuff, over and over. His brow slowly tightened, his throat went dry, and his whole person grew more and more tangled in knots.

“Your coming-of-age ceremony was supposed to happen earlier, but the war got in the way.” The person beside him was the one who spoke first. “Let’s pick a day and hold it properly.”

“There’s no real need to go to all that trouble.” He said quietly.

“That won’t do at all — I’ve been gearing up to show off my skills, and you can’t deny me the chance.” She rolled up her sleeve and gestured demonstratively. “My noodles are really delicious — you have to taste them. And then there are the gift envelopes — given your standing now, you’ll certainly collect quite a lot. Another small fortune to be made.”

She got out her mental abacus and started counting, the corners of her eyes crinkling with laughter: “I’ll go send out the invitations for you.”

Zhang Zhixu couldn’t help smiling along with her: “Already decided who to shake down?”

“Of course. Xie Lanting, Yin Fengshi and the rest — not one of them is getting away. And there’s Senior Sister Huaizhu and Hua Lingyin — they need to come and warm the occasion up.” She counted on her fingers. “Commander Xu from the Eastern Barracks, Registrar Zhao and Registrar Su from the Military Affairs Office.”

She was planning to go around and fleece them all, one by one.

Zhang Zhixu listened along and laughed, just about to say there was no need for such a grand affair, when he heard her add, entirely naturally: “And your father and mother.”

His footsteps stopped abruptly.

He turned his head in surprise, and saw the person beside him looking back at him with perfect composure. “Those two should naturally be invited as well.”

Something that had been suspended in the center of his chest fell with a heavy thud, shaking even his eyelids.

Zhang Zhixu opened his mouth at a loss, then bowed his head in something like embarrassment: “You guessed.”

This person was tall and broad-shouldered, yet standing before her he looked exactly like a child who had done something wrong — his back drooping, his knuckles white where they gripped his sleeve cuff.

Chen Baoxiang couldn’t help tilting her head and studying his face: “Surely not, Great Immortal — you’re this scared of me? That sort of reputation getting out really wouldn’t sound good.”

He was being teased at a moment like this.

He was at once annoyed and helpless: “I’m not scared. I just feel — “

“Feel like you’ve let down all my encouragement?” She was thoroughly amused, eyebrows raised. “I encouraged you because I wanted you to be happy, not to build you another cage. Zhang Fengqing, stop always making things difficult for yourself.”

His fingertips flinched, a tremor running up through his spine.

He looked up at her, unblinking, and the hesitation in the depths of his eyes slowly dissolved into something soft and warm.

“I won’t let their affairs involve you.”

“Of course they won’t involve me — the official residence His Majesty assigned you is nearly ready too, so the two of us will be living apart again, each in our own way.”

“There’s no difference.”

“Hmm?”

He reached out tentatively and took her hand. Seeing that she made no move to pull away, the corners of his mouth lifted: “Whether I live with you, and whether it’s the same house — it makes no difference.”

If worst came to worst, he would climb over the wall. He was well-practiced at it anyway. As long as he wanted to be together with her, nothing could stop him.

The young Zhang Zhixu’s understanding of love had come entirely from the adults around him in his family — he had grown up thinking that feelings were perhaps meant to be courteous, restrained, distant, and even tinged with sorrow.

Because for years, people had asked Elder Brother: if he could only choose one — his future or his beloved — which would he choose?

Watching Elder Brother’s expression go silent and pained every time, Zhang Zhixu had come to feel that love was not something worthwhile — it always forced people into agonizing choices.

But now he found that not all love required such a choice.

At the very least, the one he loved was standing right there at the head of the path he wanted to walk — standing in the brilliant, shining sunlight — and as long as he kept moving in that direction, he could walk alongside her.