What Huayue loved most were mornings at the General’s Residence. In the courtyard, the magnolias were blooming, and just passing beneath the trees was enough to catch a hint of their fragrance. Madam had always loved the scent of magnolias, and the moment she heard footsteps, she would smile and wave Huayue over.
Huayue paid her respects, then obediently knelt and supported Madam’s knee, letting her stroke and smooth back the hair at her temples.
“The magnolias have bloomed again.” Zhuang Shi was in excellent spirits. “Today is a good day.”
“Yes. Madam Han and the young miss will arrive at the hour of Chen. The courtyards inside and out have already been swept clean, and the kitchen has prepared five kinds of tea and refreshments. This servant asked around—Miss Han is skilled in painting, so the gift chosen is a piece of the General’s calligraphy.”
Huayue smiled, her eyes curving. “For that calligraphy, this servant had to pester the General more than a few times.”
Zhuang Shi laughed and reached out to poke her with a finger. “You clever little thing, actually managing to talk the General into it. That takes real skill—even when I ask him, he doesn’t always give in.”
The finger missed its mark, and Huayue quickly leaned forward, offering her nose to take the poke instead, then smiled even more brightly. “The General also thinks of you, Madam—that’s why he spared this servant’s life. The screen in the front hall has already been set up, and all the courtesies for Madam Han have been arranged. Is there anything else you’d like instructed?”
Zhuang Shi nodded, satisfied, and pulled her up to help with her hair, smiling at the bronze mirror. “What else is there to instruct? Whatever you’ve arranged is sure to be thorough and proper.”
Huayue smiled softly, picking up a jade hairpin to fix in place, then straightened the hem of her skirt.
In the mirror, Zhuang Shi looked serene and dignified, though a few more silver strands had appeared at her temples recently. By rights, living in luxury deep within the General’s Residence, Madam should have been carefree and content. But Zhuang Shi was different.
She had one enormous worry.
“Oh, right.” Touching the hairpin on the dressing table, Zhuang Shi suddenly remembered something. “Has Jingyun gotten up yet?”
Speak of trouble, and trouble arrives.
Huayue smiled on the surface while seething inside. If it weren’t for having given birth to this troublemaker Li Jingyun, why would Zhuang Shi be enraged to the point of sleeplessness every few days, relying on medicine just to get by?
Li Jingyun was the youngest son of the General’s Residence, a famous young noble of the capital. Even as a child he had earned the Emperor’s praise, and grown up, he was even more handsome and outstanding—unmatched among the noble families in both scholarship and martial skill. Outsiders who spoke of him would always praise him as “formidable, the young lord.” By rights, with a child like this, Zhuang Shi should have been living a wonderful life.
But unfortunately, this young master had been at odds with Zhuang Shi since birth—never close to her even as a child, and growing more defiant as he aged. Zhuang Shi, out of deep maternal love, couldn’t bear to scold him, which only made Li Jingyun more presumptuous and disrespectful.
Today was the day set for the meeting with Miss Han, and yet this fellow had tried to leave the residence in the middle of the night. Luckily Huayue had reacted quickly and sent people to guard the exits.
But this was not something she could tell Zhuang Shi.
“This servant had someone check before coming.” Huayue smiled. “Word from the East Courtyard is that the young master rose early this morning.”
“That’s rare indeed.” Zhuang Shi looked pleased. “Then have the kitchen send over the bird’s nest soup that’s been stewing for him. No need to worry about me here—just have Shuang Jiang attend to me.”
“Yes.” Huayue agreed, bowing with a smile as she withdrew from the main hall.
The moment the door closed, her smile vanished. She turned and asked the young maid beside her, her face darkening: “How is the East Courtyard?”
“Reporting to Steward, more than twenty guards are watching the courtyard, no shift change for three hours.”
“What about the back wall?”
“Sixty-six strings of bells have been hung. Even someone with peerless lightness skill couldn’t slip past without a sound.”
“And the servants in the young master’s courtyard?”
“All bound tightly and thrown in the woodshed.”
Good.
Restoring her gentle smile, Huayue folded her hands in front of her stomach and, at ease, led the group to deliver the bird’s nest soup.
Three years at the General’s Residence, and no one was more practiced than she at matching wits with this young master. Anyone else might get outmaneuvered by Li Jingyun, but she was absolutely watertight—capable of catching him every time. However high the demon rose, her power to counter it rose higher still.
Huayue strode confidently into the main room of the East Courtyard.
And then…
She froze at the doorway.
The guards outside stood in neat rows, the doors and windows of the room were locked tight—by rights, there should be a person inside this room.
Huayue traced a human shape in the air, then let her finger fall.
Where a person should have stood was a suit of armor instead, the empty helmet stuffed with a pillow. Fresh cucumbers from the morning meal had been sliced into strips and arranged on top, forming a face with an unmistakably mocking grin.
Huayue smiled and nodded, then reached out and grabbed the guard by the door, gritting her teeth: “This is the young master you were supposedly watching so closely?”
The guard’s face flushed red from her grip. “Ste—Steward Yin, we really were watching the whole time.”
Releasing him, Huayue walked to the window and gave it a gentle push.
With a creak, the seemingly securely locked flower-patterned window swung wide open. Morning sunlight poured in, warm and orange, revealing a trail of footprints leading from the windowsill all the way to the front gate.
…
The training grounds were not a pleasant place. Blood and sand had congealed into dark patches, the weapon racks gave off a rusty odor mixed with the sweat stains on hilts and scabbards—passing by was enough to stir up irritation. On rest days, not a soul would be found here.
But however Li Jingyun looked at it, he found it comfortable. The sky was vast, the mountains distant, the land wide and sandy—even the dust-laden wind carried a scent of freedom.
He took a deep breath, kicked at the weapon rack with the tip of his boot, caught the spear that flew out, twirled it into a flourish, and pointed it at the deputy general beside him: “A round?”
Deputy General Qin Sheng cupped his hands. “Please instruct me.”
The blades were all sharpened; there was no mercy between them in the exchange. Qin Sheng considered himself gifted, his skills far from weak, but against this refined young master in fine silks and jade crown, he simply couldn’t gain the upper hand.
The spear gleamed fiercely, slicing through streaks of morning light; his fox-fur robe billowed as murderous intent flashed across his brow beneath ink-black hair.
Huayue, spotting the crowd from afar, knew at once that troublemaker had to be here. She pushed her way through the soldiers in a few quick steps, ready to confront him, when she saw the flowering spear tip slash fiercely against the edge of a sword—sparks flying, metal ringing sharply in the air.
Li Jingyun stood with his back to the light, the red tassel on his spear like flame, his gaze sharp and commanding. His sleeve swept up a whirl of yellow sand, the spear’s point stopping a mere half-inch from Qin Sheng’s throat.
Huayue stood stunned for a moment.
Cheers rose from all around. Li Jingyun smiled, about to offer the customary words of modesty, when he glanced up and saw Yin Huayue standing among the group of new recruits.
“…”
“…”
He must be seeing things. How could she possibly have found him here.
Li Jingyun grabbed Qin Sheng and pulled him off in the opposite direction.
“Has anything happened at your residence lately?” he asked as he walked.
Qin Sheng, looking defeated, his throat still raw, said hoarsely: “This subordinate lives alone. What could possibly happen?”
“Perfect, then. I’ll go back with you later.”
Qin Sheng paused mid-step, helpless. “Young Master, are you leaving the residence without permission again?”
“Nonsense.” Li Jingyun snorted coldly. “The General’s Residence is my home. I’ve just stepped out for a bit—how is that ‘without permission’?”
“Does Steward Yin know about this?”
Looking away, Li Jingyun said vaguely: “Of course she knows.”
Just as he finished speaking, the two of them rounded the echo wall and came face to face with a group of people standing at the crossroads. At the front, a figure stood with hands folded before her stomach, her face cold and clear.