“My wife’s sachets are priceless! Priceless, do you understand?!” Yin Fengshi was flustered.

“Alright, alright — priceless.” Zhang Zhixu passed him a cup of wine.

Yin Fengshi tossed it back in one go, still unsatisfied. “I’ve noticed that Chen Baoxiang is quite kind to everyone — she rescues you, she rescues the common people, she makes things by hand for you, she makes things by hand for the Emperor. My wife is different. She is only kind to me.”

“Last summer, her family sent over a single lychee. Just one. The whole room was full of family and friends, and she didn’t look at a single one of them — she walked straight over and pressed it right into my hand.”

“Do you know how sweet it was?”

Zhang Zhixu smiled without warmth. “I do. I received three of them at the time.”

Yin Fengshi gave him a withering look. “I’m not talking about the lychee. I’m talking about the fact that my wife only has eyes for me.”

Zhang Zhixu no longer wished to hear him speak.

He took a sip of wine and turned his head away.

Yin Fengshi persevered relentlessly, picking up his stool and carrying it around to his other side. “The truth is, she was quite cold to me in the beginning. But time has a way of deepening feeling — now she gets anxious if she hasn’t seen me for half a day. If her parents’ family hadn’t had something come up today, she’d have insisted on coming along with me regardless.”

So what does that have to do with anything.

Zhang Zhixu looked toward Gu Hualing. “Lord Gu, this wine is excellent. Lord Yin says he’s very fond of it.”

“Is that so?” Gu Hualing was overjoyed. He immediately lifted the wine flask and came over. “Come, come, Lord Yin — I was just saying to someone that you have the finest palate here. This grape wine really does need someone like you to appreciate it properly.”

“Do try this cup — it’s quite different from what’s on your table.”

“I also brought a wine that I’d like Lord Yin to taste.”

Everyone crowded in, offering him cup after cup.

Yin Fengshi couldn’t dodge fast enough, drinking glass after glass while glaring at Zhang Fengqing, who sat nearby at perfect ease, sipping slowly from his own cup at a leisurely pace.

The sun dipped lower.

Everyone at the table was swaying and listing from the drink, and Gu Hualing, with a thickening tongue, had ended up telling him a great deal about the Gu Family’s affairs.

Zhang Zhixu listened with satisfaction, drained the last of his cup, and was just about to pour another, when he noticed a young woman stride briskly through the door.

“Drunk again?” The young master below was helped to his feet, and the woman apologized with a bow to those at the upper seats. “It would be too late getting home — the family would worry. Please excuse us.” And with that, she was gone, the man in tow.

The others broke into cheerful jeering. The tipsy young man grinned foolishly as he was led away.

One by one, family members began arriving to collect people — some on horseback, some in carriages, some helping in person, some sending servants — until the table thinned out, group by group.

Yin Fengshi stared at the doorway for a moment, then suddenly broke into a grin and clapped Zhang Zhixu on the shoulder. “My wife’s here. I’m heading home.”

Zhang Zhixu held his wine cup and watched as Yin Fengshi stumbled and lurched toward the woman in the doorway.

The woman didn’t look at anyone else — she just frowned and caught him, murmured something under her breath, and began steering him toward the exit.

Both of them wobbled as they walked, their retreating figures somehow managing to look, against all reason, settled and secure.

“Are you also waiting for someone, my lord?” Gu Hualing asked.

Zhang Zhixu withdrew his gaze and shook his head. “I’ll see myself home. Thank you for the hospitality today.”

“Not at all — the hospitality was wanting, I’m afraid.” Gu Hualing rose to his feet and glanced outside. “Let me have someone see you off. The path around here isn’t well-lit.”

“No need.”

It wasn’t as if he had no legs or eyes. Why should he not be able to walk himself home?

Zhang Zhixu lowered his gaze, braced both hands on his knees, and slowly rose to his feet.

“Pardon the intrusion.” A clear, bright voice came from the doorway.

Gu Hualing turned toward the sound.

A young woman was leaning in through the entrance, scanning the room. Her gaze landed on a particular spot, and she seemed to exhale — a quiet, almost imperceptible breath of relief.

She smiled and stepped inside, giving him a small nod. “I’ll take him from here.”

This general, who on ordinary days was always clad in armor with a fierce expression, was wearing a plain celadon-green dress tonight. Her voice was gentle, her movements unhurried.

She received Zhang Zhixu’s swaying weight with both hands, steadying the bulk of him without any hesitation. She caught the scent of wine on him and seemed to sigh in quiet exasperation — and then, gently, she smiled.

“I’ll take him home. Thank you for the hospitality today.” She said it softly, to him alone.

Gu Hualing’s eyes slowly widened, and his mouth dropped open by degrees. He could not decide whether to rejoice first that he had managed to exchange words with General Chen, or to marvel that apparently every rumor had been true after all.

All he could do was nod repeatedly, then clasp his hands together and gesture her through.

Zhang Zhixu, somewhat delayed in his reactions, tilted his head to look at the person beside him.

Through the haze, a familiar silhouette slowly came into focus.

It was Chen Baoxiang.

He even paused mid-breath, his gaze traveling over her face again and again, as if confirming he hadn’t mistaken someone else for her.

Chen Baoxiang patted his back and laughed softly. “I can’t really carry you on my back, so you’ll have to manage on your own.”

He shook his head, steadied himself, and walked a few steps — then stopped and looked at her again.

Chen Baoxiang walked a few steps forward to stand beside him.

He started walking again.

There seemed to be laughter all around them. She was laughing too, but she still went along with him obligingly, the two of them walking in starts and stops as they crossed the threshold.

“The road ahead is dark. Will you hold my hand?” Chen Baoxiang asked softly.

Zhang Zhixu stared at her fingertips for a moment, then said quietly, “I can see clearly enough.”

“But I can’t.” She tilted her head. “What if I trip and fall?”

He furrowed his brow and thought it over for a moment, then reached out and carefully took her hand.

Amusement welled up in her eyes. She closed her fingers around his and led him forward together.

Leyou Park was vast — meadows and a riverside walk stretched out in every direction, and even at night the scattered lanterns lit up bursts of noise and laughter.

Zhang Zhixu wandered along in a daze for a little while, then asked in a low, hoarse voice, “Were you busy today?”

“Very. I spent a long time drilling with the spear in the morning — didn’t even have a proper meal before going to the palace in the afternoon. After leaving the palace I went to the Ministry of Personnel, and I’ve only just had a free moment now.” She sighed.

His brow furrowed, and he turned to look for a food stall in the vicinity.

“No hurry.” Chen Baoxiang squeezed his hand. “There’s food ready at home. We’ll eat as soon as we get back.”

Then, with a hint of amusement, she studied him. “Aren’t you cross with me? Why are you still worrying about me like this.”

Only cross — not indifferent.

Zhang Zhixu looked down, thinking. He wasn’t really cross with her, either. He simply hadn’t had a chance to coax himself back yet.

It was fine. There was no need for anyone to fuss over him. He would always settle himself back on his own eventually.

The night wind passed over them, cool and faintly damp.

Chen Baoxiang watched the emotion moving through his eyes in silence.

She watched for a moment, then said suddenly, “Let me send word to Jiuquan — stay at my place tonight.”

Zhang Zhixu instinctively shook his head. He wanted to go home and be alone.

But the person in front of him seemed to be issuing a decision rather than posing a question. She didn’t even look at him — she simply took his wrist and started walking.

The calluses in her palm pressed lightly against his skin, a faint pleasant roughness. Zhang Zhixu stumbled forward to keep pace, his mouth half-opening — and yet he still could not manage to refuse her a second time.

The wine rose through him, the world ahead grew a little blurrier, his feet felt as if they were treading on cotton, and his sense of his surroundings grew gradually dim.

Half-conscious, he thought he felt himself helped into a carriage; half-conscious, he felt someone settle in beside him, a clean, green fragrance of grass drifting through the air.

Inexplicably, Zhang Zhixu felt that same thing — settled and secure.

He, too, had someone who had come to pick him up.