Not far from the West City Gate lay a vast wild area with scattered shacks. Through gaps in bamboo fences, candlelight filtered through, barely illuminating a few yards ahead.

Li Bai lamented that the road to Shu was harder than climbing to heaven. Sichuan was surrounded by mountains on all sides. To the east ran the Yangtze River with its raging currents and the natural barrier of the Three Gorges. To the north, Jianmen Pass could be held by one man against ten thousand. For the citizens of Yizhou, bandit rebellions of the late Han Dynasty were merely stories heard in teahouses. Since the establishment of the Great Tang Dynasty, Yizhou had seen no warfare. The city walls had long fallen into disrepair.

Before them was a section of wall where wind and rain had created a breach over the years. Fallen earth and stones had formed a gentle slope. After nightfall, when the city gates closed, Yang Jingyuan rode his horse here. He dismounted, took the reins, and started up the slope.

“Young Master, if you’re caught climbing the city wall at night, even your uncle couldn’t speak for you before the governor,” Xiangyou said nervously, looking around.

“Who told you to follow? Go back.” Yang Jingyuan found Xiangyou’s timidity and chatter annoying and didn’t want to bring him along.

Xiangyou shut his mouth resentfully but followed with the horse. He grumbled inwardly: if I hadn’t followed, would you have thought to wear a waterproof brocade cloak? If I hadn’t reminded you, you’d be wearing that white embroidered brocade cloak, riding Xuefeng—the guards in the gate tower could spot you from ten li away!

Timid as a mouse. Yang Jingyuan cast him a contemptuous glance. On this cold autumn night, the gate guards had already retreated to their towers to drink. The patrol wouldn’t come to this wasteland.

They climbed over the wall and reached the official road. Yang Jingyuan shook the reins, and his horse shot forward like an arrow.

“Young Master…”

Xiangyou was very curious—they had packed their belongings to leave tomorrow. Why was the young master leaving the city so late?

“Either wait here or shut up!”

Xiangyou obediently closed his mouth. As long as the young master didn’t abandon him, it was fine.

The rain grew heavier, its sound pattering against the windows.

“Miss, reading at night strains your eyes. Please write a little less,” said Ying’er as she added two more candles to the low table.

Ji Yingying was writing notes on white bamboo paper: “I’ll be going to Chang’an with aunt’s people at year’s end. I’m recording today’s formulas to give to my brother tomorrow.”

These past few days had been peaceful. The Ji family breathed a sigh of relief, waiting for time to help the Zhao family forget about the brocade competition and the broken engagement. Madam Ji was throwing herself into teaching Ji Yingying various etiquettes. Four matrons took turns, detailing everything from dress and appearance to the dietary preferences of the Xu family’s elderly master and madam.

Ji Yingying could only find time at night to secretly prepare dyes.

Ordinary bright blue dye, through multiple dyeing processes, could produce egg blue, sky blue, kingfisher blue, precious blue, scarlet blue, navy blue, and other blue shades, as well as various greens like foreign green, bean green, leaf green, fruit green, and ink green. Different proportions created superior, medium, and inferior grades of each blue and green. Superior grades had luster and looked natural. Fabrics dyed in these colors commanded prices twenty percent higher.

Though Ji Yaoting could dye, he couldn’t match his sister’s skill at achieving the best combinations. Ji Yingying carefully recorded her insights and formulas at night for her brother to learn from.

After storing the completed formulas in the box, Ji Yingying still couldn’t sleep. She rested her chin in her hand, listening to the pattering rain outside, her melancholy as endless as the autumn rain.

Chang’an—mother said once there, they would ask her grandmother to find a match, and she would marry directly from her maternal grandmother’s house. Once gone, when would she return home? She gazed longingly at the furnishings in her room. Everything now seemed so hard to part with.

“Miss, please rest,” Ying’er understood the reluctance on her mistress’s face, and her own heart grew bitter. If not for the Zhao family, her mistress wouldn’t need to seek marriage far away in Chang’an. But staying in Yizhou Prefecture would bring more misfortune than fortune.

Ji Yingying yawned: “Let’s sleep. We need to learn tea brewing with Mother early tomorrow.”

“Tap tap tap.” The window was gently knocked.

Neither mistress nor servant paid attention. The sound was too soft like a sudden gust of rain hitting the window frame. As Ying’er was helping Ji Yingying prepare for bed, the window suddenly opened. Cold wind and rain gusted into the room. The candles on the low table went out with a puff. The room instantly plunged into darkness.

Just as Ying’er was about to relight the lamps, her vision went black, and she collapsed softly to the ground.

Ji Yingying’s vision blurred as a figure appeared before her: “Who is it!”

“It’s me, Third Young Master Yang!” Yang Jingyuan quickly stopped her from calling out, closing the window behind him. “Don’t worry, she’s just unconscious. I need to talk to you.”

He lifted his cloak’s hood, looking at her nervously.

Ji Yingying pressed her chest, breaking into a cold sweat from fright. Did he think this was the Yang family’s back garden, that he could come and go as he pleased? She was furious but kept her voice low: “Why are you always so inexplicable? Couldn’t you say whatever it is during the day?”

Climbing walls and entering rooms like this—what if someone saw?

The room was very dark; besides her gleaming eyes, he could only see her shadowy figure. Thinking of his journey ahead, thinking she might be promised to another, Yang Jingyuan’s heart burned fiercely. This fire burned to his lips; he could even feel his blood pulsing there.

Ji Yingying felt his presence looming like a mountain: “What do you want to sa—”

His lips had already covered hers. Carrying the scent of autumn rain and a scorching heat that made her heart race, he overwhelmed her completely. Her thoughts and reactions went blank for a moment; she couldn’t even think whether she should bite him or push him away.

It was just an instant before Yang Jingyuan released her, breathing slightly heavily. Just as he was about to speak, Ji Yingying slapped him across the face. She stepped back several paces, leaning against the bedpost, and growled: “Third Young Master Yang, I never thought you were this kind of person!”

He had been impulsive. He hadn’t been able to control himself. Yang Jingyuan had no way to explain. He said humbly: “I know I startled you. I truly like you. I will earn my fortune to marry you. Please don’t hastily promise yourself to another. Will you wait for me?”

Ji Yingying covered her lips with her hand, trembling with anger: “Who do you think you are? You come when you want? Kiss when you want? What do you take me for? What right do you have to ask me to wait? Did I ever chase after marrying you?”

Yes, he was wrong. He had been presumptuous. He couldn’t let go. Yang Jingyuan heard his voice like the lingering rain as if it didn’t belong to him: “Zhao Xiuyuan harbors hatred and will harm you. I know your mother and brother want to quickly arrange your marriage, to someone like Second Young Master Zhu. If you marry into the Yang family, at least I can protect you.”

“Hah, you’ve so happily decided my whole life?” Ji Yingying laughed in extreme anger. “Did you ask me? Third Young Master Yang, I don’t want to wake my family by shouting. Please leave. As for my marriage, my mother and brother will arrange it for me.”

Yang Jingyuan wanted to slap himself again—this scene shouldn’t have happened like this, but he had ruined it completely. His pride and dignity wouldn’t allow him to humble himself and beg her anymore. He turned and climbed out the window.

He stood under the eaves, rain pouring down his face, his handsome features clearly showing embarrassment and heartache in the darkness.

He stood staring at her like this, like a drenched puppy. Ji Yingying’s anger gradually dissipated. Without reason, she thought of Zhao Xiuyuan, thought of herself. Tears fell uncontrollably.

She truly didn’t love him. Yang Jingyuan suddenly turned, his figure lightly vaulting over the wall and disappearing.

Ji Yingying walked slowly to the window, murmuring: “Marrying you… would have been fine too.” At least he liked her. What was wrong with marrying someone who liked her, especially a young master of the Brocade King Yang family?