Lin Sui’an was chewing the end of her brush, staring at the slip of paper on the table before her, and feeling quite genuinely troubled.

Hua Yitang had not spoken a word to her for two full hours now. He hadn’t paid her any attention at dinner. He hadn’t paid her any attention when eating fruit. He hadn’t paid her any attention when drinking tea. He had even gone back to his room without so much as saying goodnight. During that time, Lin Sui’an had made several attempts at communication, all of which had been entirely unsuccessful — amounting to what could only be described as the most advanced level of a cold war between two people.

By rights, without Hua Yitang’s incessant chattering in her ear, Lin Sui’an should have been feeling extremely at ease. Yet the reality was precisely the opposite — Lin Sui’an felt completely out of sorts, every inch of herself uncomfortable.

Could it be that somewhere deep within her psyche lurked some unspoken, peculiar fondness for self-torment?

At moments like this, Lin Sui’an missed the communication tools of the modern era more than ever. For someone with a half-social-anxiety disposition like hers, words that couldn’t be said face-to-face could at least be conveyed through a message or voice note — but in this era, she could only fall back on the next best option: a letter.

The only problem was that another rather pressing issue had now emerged. She seemed to have developed a blank-page phobia. She had been staring down the paper slip in a standoff for half an hour and had not squeezed out so much as a single character. Whatever she thought to write felt strange, and even the mere thought that what she wrote would be read by Hua Yitang made her feel a bizarre, excruciating sense of embarrassment.

Why was this happening? She had never had this problem before.

Lin Sui’an let out a sigh, put the brush down, buried herself under the blanket, and resolved to act like an ostrich — sleep on it first and deal with it later. But she tossed and turned for a good long while and not only failed to fall asleep, she found herself growing more and more wide awake, her heart as though twenty-five little rabbits had taken up residence inside it, their hundred paws all scratching away. She could only sit herself back up at the writing table, pick up the brush again, and after much deliberation, stroke by stroke, wrote a handful of words.

【At the third quarter of the hai hour, come to the Lotus Bridge. Let’s talk.】

When she finished, she studied it carefully for some time. The characters were admittedly a little ugly, but they were sincere, and she was reasonably satisfied.

Slip of paper in hand, Qian Jing at her side, Lin Sui’an left Emerald Smoke Garden, circled around the bamboo grove, and made her way to Reflection Garden. Mu Xia happened to be coming out of the garden just as she arrived. Lin Sui’an moved quickly, shoved the slip of paper into his hands, and without waiting for Mu Xia to react, turned and made herself scarce.

Passing secret notes like this — the sense of déjà vu was truly mortifying.

From Reflection Garden to Lotus Bridge took only about a quarter of an hour at Lin Sui’an’s pace. There was still half an hour before the appointed time. Lin Sui’an slowly climbed onto the bridge, leaned against the railing, and looked up at the night sky.

The night had deepened. The wind moved, clear and easy. Insects chirped somewhere far away. An entire river of stars hung overhead. The lake stretched wide and dim — a vast, open tranquility. The familiar night wind stirred the hem of her robe, and she found herself thinking of the time she and Hua Yitang had stood on a bridge and watched the moon together.

Hua Yitang had still been running a mild fever then, yet he had still insisted on staying out to help ease her troubled heart — just as he had done so many times before.

The first time — in the prison cells of the Yangdu Prefecture yamen — she had asked him why he believed she would not kill anyone. He had said: for no particular reason. I simply believe it.

Frankly, at the time, Lin Sui’an’s heart had held three parts gratitude and seven parts stunned amazement. Does this person perhaps have a hole in his head?

The second time — when he spoke of that so-called fate of the solitary star, born to walk alone — she truly and finally understood that what he had always called “partners in life and death” hadn’t been merely words carelessly tossed out. He had meant them, from the heart.

That day, Lin Sui’an told him the secret of her golden ability.

That day, for the first time, Lin Sui’an truly and genuinely began to regard Hua Yitang as her partner.

At this thought, Lin Sui’an exhaled a long, slow breath. The anxiety that had gnawed at her all evening somehow settled into a measure of calm.

That was right. They were partners. What grudge could possibly last the night?

Say what needs to be said, untangle what needs to be untangled, explain what needs explaining.

She had a fairly good idea of why Hua Yitang was upset — it was simply that she hadn’t heeded his advice, had acted on her own, and had suddenly fainted as a result. But she had her own reasons too. She only needed to explain them to him… but wait… Lin Sui’an grew less certain again. Given how sharp-minded Hua Yitang was, could he not already guess at her reasoning? What she needed was an explanation… or was it…

“Does he need to be coaxed a little?” Lin Sui’an murmured.

“Pfft!”

A light laugh rang out without any warning — like a wandering ghost rising from the surface of the wide, empty lake.

Lin Sui’an jolted, spun around in an instant — and there, seated cross-legged on the railing three paces away, was a human silhouette. A black long robe billowed in the wind, nearly merging with the boundless night. Starlight fell upon his loosely pinned hair, lending it an unexpected air of rakish ease.

His face was covered by a clean, white mask. Its surface appeared to be coated with a layer of white lacquer — like a mirror reflecting the starlit lake.

Lin Sui’an raised an eyebrow. “Yun Zhong Yue, where did you get that mask? It’s a bit ugly.”

Yun Zhong Yue swayed his head back and forth, reciting with feeling: “These stars are not the stars of last night — for whom does the beauty stand in the midnight dew and wind?”

Lin Sui’an’s wrist flicked. Qian Jing slid half an inch out of the sheath. “To cut you down.”

“No, no, no—” Yun Zhong Yue waved his hands in quick succession. “We’ve been through life and death together, at any rate. All this talk of cutting and killing — that wounds the feelings—”

“Damn it all to hell! Who went through life and death with you?! Who are your companions!” A thunderous, rolling shout carrying the scent of expensive fruit wood cut through the air, and Lin Sui’an felt the world before her eyes blur — in the next instant, Hua Yitang was standing between her and Yun Zhong Yue, robes gathered in his fist.

Yun Zhong Yue tilted his head. “Hua Family Fourth Young Master’s legs are as nimble as ever.”

Hua Yitang gave a cold laugh. “And Yun is as shameless as ever.”

Yun Zhong Yue touched the mask on his face and let out a quiet laugh. “I truly am not in a position to have any face to speak of.”

Hua Yitang spat, turned his head, and asked Lin Sui’an in a low voice: “Why is he here?”

Lin Sui’an blinked. “Are you no longer upset with me?”

Hua Yitang froze. “When was I ever upset with you?”

The two stared at each other for a long moment, and then simultaneously said: “Hmm?”

“Ahem!” Yun Zhong Yue cleared his throat with emphasis. “You two — I’ve come to deliver a gift.”

He reached into his robe and produced a long cloth bag, tossing it over with an easy swing of his arm. Lin Sui’an caught it with a slap of her palm. The familiar weight in her hand made her scalp tighten. She swiftly pulled out what was inside — and it was indeed the scroll book “Pluck the flower while it blooms, waste not the moment.” Hua Yitang pulled the scroll open and scanned it, then narrowed his eyes. “So the scroll book you brought to the White Heron Pleasure Boat was only a portion of the whole.”

Yun Zhong Yue shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

Hua Yitang set the scroll book aside and fixed a sideways glance on Yun Zhong Yue. “The scroll book originally contained two hundred and seventy-three pages. There are now only two hundred and thirty. Where did the remaining forty-three go?”

Yun Zhong Yue: “I don’t see why I have any obligation to give account to Hua Family Fourth Young Master.”

Hua Yitang: “Yun Zhong Yue, it is better for a person to be candid. Otherwise — Hua will not be helping you in the future.”

Yun Zhong Yue laughed. “When did I ever say I needed your help?”

Hua Yitang handed the scroll book to Lin Sui’an, then strolled in a measured pace back and forth across the bridge. “Your conduct today — was it not to test the strength and capabilities of the great clans?”

At these words, not only Yun Zhong Yue, but even Lin Sui’an was taken aback.

Yun Zhong Yue shifted into a new position, crossed his legs, propped his elbow on his knee, rested his chin in his hand, and assumed an expression of attentive listening. “Please, go on.”

Hua Yitang snapped his fan open with a sharp crack. His eyes caught the light of the stars, bright and glittering. “Truthfully, Hua has always felt that your conduct today was self-contradictory, with logic that made no coherent sense. If you were selling the scroll book for profit, there would be no need to stage this elaborate auction — you could simply have sold it directly to the Hua clan. Why go through all this unnecessary trouble?”

Yun Zhong Yue: “Is Hua Family Fourth Young Master truly so confident in the financial power of his own clan?”

Hua Yitang: “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Yun Zhong Yue neither confirmed nor denied this, gesturing for Hua Yitang to continue.

“So — you were not seeking profit,” Hua Yitang said. “From start to finish you refused to reveal even your true appearance, and operated under a false identity. Clearly you were not seeking renown either. Which makes this all the stranger — you are a man of the martial world. To go to such effort and put on such a grand show, not for money, not for fame — can it be that you were seeking power?”

Lin Sui’an noticed that when Hua Yitang spoke this last sentence, Yun Zhong Yue’s muscles visibly tensed for a fraction of a second. Although he concealed it masterfully, it could not escape her eyes.

“So my conjecture is this: your original plan proceeded as follows. First — use the scroll book to observe the reactions of the great clan young masters, and thereby determine whether they were already aware of its contents. If they knew, the scroll book’s value would be diminished — not worth pursuing your next step. If no one was aware of the contents, it would represent a great opportunity: you could use the scroll book as a token of entry, earn the trust of the Ganzhou Jiang clan, and obtain the support of the Ganzhou Jiang clan. I would wager that among the forty-three pages you kept, there are contents greatly advantageous to the Ganzhou Jiang clan. Unfortunately, the sudden appearance of the black-clad fighters disrupted your plan and brought it to nothing. You could only seek another strategy. As for these two hundred and thirty pages you returned to us — they contain only information on the Xingyang Ling clan, the Qingzhou Wan clan, and a scattering of minor gentry families. They are of no particular use to you, and serve perfectly as a gracious, goodwill gesture.” Hua Yitang paused briefly. “You went to the effort of keeping forty-seven pages — among them, there must be content concerning the Ganzhou Jiang clan specifically.”

Is that truly the whole of it? Something strange stirred in Lin Sui’an’s mind — a feeling she couldn’t quite name. It was as though Yun Zhong Yue had never intended, from the very start, to make any of this content public. Whatever his initial motivations, the outcome of what he had done was, in fact, to protect these families whose scandals were recorded within.

Yun Zhong Yue tapped his finger against his mask. “I am quite curious — the Hua clan is at its peak right now. If it obtained the scandalous secrets of so many families, how would it put them to use?”

Hua Yitang was silent for a moment. “You mean to say — your ultimate purpose was to watch the Hua clan and the Ganzhou Jiang clan wage a battle between two tigers, each one damaging the other?”

Yun Zhong Yue: “What amusement is there in destroying a barely-surviving relic like the Taiyuan Jiang clan? Bringing down the Hua clan — rich enough to rival a nation — and the Ganzhou Jiang clan — unrivaled and dominant — now that would be entertaining.”

Hua Yitang let out a dismissive laugh, about to speak — but Lin Sui’an got there first.

“No. If that were truly what you intended, you would never have risked your own life to help us drive back those black-clad fighters.”

Yun Zhong Yue smiled. “Surely Miss Lin isn’t about to tell me that I am, in fact, a good person?”

Lin Sui’an clicked her tongue with a chewing motion. “Say rather — you think we are good people, and so you are enthusiastically striving to better yourself, learning from our example.”

“Or perhaps,” said Hua Yitang, in his unhurried, fan-swaying manner, “what you were truly testing was not whose strength was greater — but rather: whose character is worthy of your trust.”

Yun Zhong Yue slowly straightened his posture. His gaze passed through the white, luminous mask and came to rest on the two young figures standing side by side. The boundless starlight sketched their upright silhouettes — dreamlike in its beauty.

Could it truly be that the world held people this pure, this untainted?

“How do you two intend to deal with this scroll book?” Yun Zhong Yue said, his voice low and beguiling. “Everyone today saw the scroll book destroyed. Even if you quietly kept this copy, no one would ever know. It would be a secret between just the three of us…”

Hua Yitang’s expression was nothing short of contemptuous. “Off with you. The last thing I want is to share a secret with a stinking man. How revolting.”

Lin Sui’an raised an eyebrow with a slight smile. She tossed the scroll book into the air — and Qian Jing cleared the sheath in a brilliant flash, its blade-wind whipping without a moment’s hesitation, shredding the scroll book into fragments. The night breeze carried the scraps of paper upward into the sky. Those images — once cold enough to make the soul recoil — were transfigured in the radiance of the bladelight into another sea of stars, dazzling Yun Zhong Yue’s eyes.

Then, without warning, a streak of cold light burst through that beautiful glittering expanse, like a bolt of lightning driving straight at his face. Yun Zhong Yue was stunned. He lurched backward in a desperate leap — but it was already too late. He felt the terrible pressure of Qian Jing’s blade. He heard the sound of the mask cracking—

Not good!

Yun Zhong Yue covered his face with his sleeve and kicked off through the air in a series of rapid Lotus Blossom Steps — the vast night darkness bloomed into six lotus petals, dissolving into six wisps of green smoke that scattered and faded.

Lin Sui’an held the pose of her strike, entirely thunderstruck.

My goodness! She had actually shattered Yun Zhong Yue’s mask and caught a glimpse of what lay beneath.

It was a remarkably clean face — clear as jade, bright as water. In that fraction of an instant, Lin Sui’an had the illusory sensation that she was looking at the moon in the night sky.

This was no disguise. This was a face that was genuinely alive and vivid.

Yun Zhong Yue — so that was it. The ever-shifting “Cloud” was the disguise. The immaculate, unsullied “Moon” was his true face.

Remarkable! A genuinely breathtaking glimpse of the real person, and it had been worth every moment — what a windfall today had been!

“Hua Yitang, did you see just now?” Lin Sui’an sheathed her blade, calling out with excitement. “Yun Zhong Yue is actually quite fresh-faced—mmm…”

Hua Yitang had both hands locked tight around his fan, fixing her with a deadly glare. His snow-white robes swept and raged in the night wind, every fold radiating a fierce, clawing energy.

Wait?!

Didn’t he just say he wasn’t angry? Then what was the atmosphere between them right now?!

Lin Sui’an felt her footing slip away again.

Then, all at once, she saw Hua Yitang draw a sharp breath. The fan dropped from his hand to the ground. Lin Sui’an’s heart lurched. She quickly reached over, grabbed his hand, and looked — sure enough, the wound on his palm was seeping blood again.

“You have a wound on that hand — don’t strain it,” Lin Sui’an said with a sigh. “Go and have Doctor Fang re-bandage it—”

Hua Yitang grabbed the edge of her sleeve. “You do it.”

“Hmm?”

“Doctor Fang is too rough-handed. It hurts.”

It had to be said — this was a reason that was rather difficult to argue with, given that Lin Sui’an still had lingering qualms about Fangke’s brutalist approach to medical care.

“I didn’t bring any wound salve—” Before Lin Sui’an could finish the sentence, Hua Yitang pressed a small ceramic bottle into her palm.

Lin Sui’an: “……”

The bottle still carried Hua Yitang’s body warmth, as though he had been holding it for quite some time. Could this rascal have been planning this all along?

Lin Sui’an carefully slid her gaze upward and stole a glance at Hua Yitang. Hua Yitang’s neck was stiff, head turned to one side, still refusing to look at her — like a sulking child throwing a small tantrum.

Lin Sui’an quietly exhaled in relief. A sulk was infinitely better than a cold war.

She unwound Hua Yitang’s bandage layer by layer. The wound was deeper than she had expected — particularly stark against that pampered, precious hand of his.

Hua Yitang’s hands were beautiful — fair-skinned, with long, elegant bones and well-defined knuckles. When Lin Sui’an carefully poured the wound salve onto them, she realized that her own hand was actually a size smaller than his — and a shade darker. From the sting of the medicine, Hua Yitang’s fingers curled slightly inward, trembling faintly. His fingertip grazed Lin Sui’an’s hand like a brush of electricity — and then pulled back as though from a flame, leaving only the warmth of the contact on her skin, like a butterfly poised to take flight — weightless, soft, and ticklish.

A sensation that itched all the way down to her heart.

Lin Sui’an found herself holding her breath without meaning to, doing her best to avoid contact — yet the more careful she tried to be, the more her hands refused to cooperate, her fingertips always grazing over Hua Yitang’s skin. She could clearly feel that Hua Yitang’s hand had grown warmer — or perhaps it was her own temperature rising…

“I wasn’t upset with you.”

Hua Yitang’s burning breath drifted past her ear. Lin Sui’an’s hand jerked, nearly sending the bandage flying from her grasp. She lifted her head on reflex, and met the pitch-black of Hua Yitang’s eyes.

“I was angry at myself.” His voice was very quiet.

Lin Sui’an: “……Hmm?”

“I know — you must have been afraid that there would be no other chance to read the dead person’s memories, and so you couldn’t bring yourself to wait any longer.” Hua Yitang let his eyelids drop. His lashes quivered softly. “It’s that I wasn’t clever enough, wasn’t capable enough — wasn’t able to earn your complete trust. That is why you took the risk on your own.”

Lin Sui’an stared at him: what kind of mental framework produces a conclusion this absurd?

“‘Taking a risk’ is a bit of an exaggeration for what was simply a quick look,” Lin Sui’an said.

Hua Yitang lifted his lashes. His dark pupils held the full sweep of the stars, and his voice was soft as a breath from a beautiful dream. “Lin Sui’an — I worry about you.”

Lin Sui’an’s heart skipped half a beat.

“I know — being able to see a dead person’s memories is, for the purpose of solving a case, nothing less than a gift sent from heaven. I even used to think that gaining such an ability was a blessing from the heavens. But—” Hua Yitang’s voice sank lower. “You don’t know — every time… afterward… your eyes, your complexion, your expression… they seem to look more and more like… as if the corpse has drained the life from you…”

Lin Sui’an: “Is that so?”

Hua Yitang gave a heavy nod.

Lin Sui’an let out a quiet sigh.

It truly was as the old saying goes: every gift the world bestows has its price marked in secret.

So it was with Qian Jing. So it was with the Full Silence Compendium. So it was with the golden ability.

“Lin Sui’an — will you promise me something?”

The moment Hua Yitang spoke these words, Lin Sui’an’s heart seized with a sharp pang of dread.

Could it be that he wanted her to promise never to use the golden ability again?

Lin Sui’an frowned. “Those memories may be the only thing a dead person leaves behind in this world. I… cannot promise that—”

“We are partners — partners who face life and death together, who never abandon one another!” Hua Yitang suddenly curled his fingers closed, enclosing Lin Sui’an’s fingertips in his grip. “From now on — no matter when, no matter where, no matter how urgent the circumstances — whenever you read a dead person’s memories, you must wait for me to be there with you!”

Lin Sui’an’s eyes went wide.

Hua Yitang’s expression was stubborn and unwavering. His lips were pressed into a firm, resolute line. His beautiful eyes shimmered with a trembling luminescence, as though on the verge of brimming over. He looked at her like that — still, quiet, and direct.

There was truly nothing to be done with him. Lin Sui’an felt as though something had taken a small bite out of her heart — a little sour, and faintly aching. She shook her head helplessly and gave a nod. “All right.”

Hua Yitang’s eyes lit up at once, and a brilliant, glowing smile broke across his face — bright enough to make the stars overhead lose all their luster.

Lin Sui’an smiled too.

That had finally coaxed the rascal into a better mood.

What a chaotic, exhausting day this had been…

Hua Yitang, now appeased, promptly restored his motor-mouth attribute in full, and began chattering away in her ear once more:

“Now that we have Jiang Seventh Lady’s authorization, first thing tomorrow morning we should go to the Court of Judicial Review to find Sixth Young Master Ling — counting today’s, there are already four drowning cases. I wonder how the earlier bodies have been preserved. Ah, when on earth will Fangke receive his official coroner credentials? I simply cannot feel confident in the Court of Judicial Review’s own coroner — what if they—”

It really was a bit noisy…

The fatigue of the full day climbed at last to the top of her head. Lin Sui’an’s eyelids slowly fell closed.

Hua Yitang fell abruptly silent. He looked at Lin Sui’an, who had tumbled headfirst into his chest and promptly fallen dead asleep. A soft laugh escaped him. He pulled the half-bound bandage from her hands and, in three quick movements, fastened it himself, clenching the end in his teeth to pull the knot tight. Then he wrapped both arms gently around Lin Sui’an, his palm resting against her back with a soft, steady rhythm, listening as the breathing in his arms grew gradually even. The smile on his face gradually faded.

“I have worked so hard for so long, and it seems only today — for the first time — that you truly regard me as your partner…”

“And yet… I find I am no longer content with being only your partner…”

“How greedy a thing is the human heart…”

Hua Yitang murmured softly under his breath, circling one arm around Lin Sui’an’s waist and hooking his other beneath the crook of her knees. He carefully lifted the sleeping girl up into his arms — just as she had once carried him — and held her cradled against his chest.

“You are so light. Where do you find such strength?” Hua Yitang looked down at the sleeping face of the young woman resting against his chest and said quietly, “You are nothing but a slip of a girl — so why are you always so stubbornly, recklessly brave?”

Lin Sui’an frowned, and mumbled drowsily: “Hua Yitang… so noisy…”

Hua Yitang gave a helpless, soft laugh. “Very well. There will be time enough, in the days to come.”

The night wind lay still. The lake rippled without sound. Starlight’s brilliance swept across the two figures’ intertwining robes — at times tender and languorous, at times ardent and brilliant — accompanying their silhouettes as they moved steadily toward the glow of the lantern-lit house ahead.

Skit

Mu Xia, hiding in the shrubbery, was nearly moved to tears of joy:

Thank goodness he hadn’t given up — he had held his post outside Reflection Garden for a full hour, and had finally managed to catch Miss Lin coming to deliver her note. If he hadn’t, given how stubbornly single-minded his Fourth Young Master could be, there would surely have been two great blisters on his mouth by the time he woke up tomorrow morning!