Han Shuang had imagined a thousand different ways Jingyun-gege might look at her—fierce, or gentle—she would have loved any of them.

What she never imagined was that one day he would look at another woman that way, right in front of her.

And it had to happen on her birthday.

Her chest tightened with grief. Han Shuang, wronged beyond bearing, stamped her foot, flung her hand away, and ran out crying.

“Miss Han.” Huayue instinctively took a few steps after her, but her wrist was still held fast, and she couldn’t chase after her—she could only watch helplessly as Han Shuang ran off into the distance.

According to the original plan, today Li Jingyun was to personally present Miss Han with a birthday gift, and the two of them were supposed to spend time together enjoying the romantic scenery, deepening their bond, so that the marriage between their two families could proceed smoothly.

However… she had been careless, lulled by Li Jingyun’s docile appearance that morning, forgetting this man’s true, troublesome nature—so that when disaster struck before her eyes, she hadn’t even had time to react.

She turned and looked coldly at the young master beside her.

Li Jingyun didn’t feel he’d done anything wrong at all. He stood up, set the gift on the table, then turned back to her with a raised eyebrow. “Shall we head back now?”

“Young Master.” She swallowed her anger to remind him. “Aren’t you going to go check on Miss Han?”

Li Jingyun looked at her in disbelief. “She’s crying that hard, and you still want me to go see her?”

“Even if she’s nothing to you, you should still have some compassion. How can you rub salt in someone’s wound?”

He shook his head sorrowfully as he spoke, then pulled her along toward the door. “I may not like her, but I wouldn’t drive her to a dead end either.”

At first hearing, it sounded perfectly reasonable—Huayue nearly felt guilty for her own coldheartedness.

But once they were outside the Han residence gate, she shook off his hand.

Li Jingyun tilted his head, laughing softly. “Now what?”

The person beside him said nothing, just stood there, eyes fixed on him, irritation impossible to hide.

In his impression of her before, Steward Yin had always been tall, cold, unyielding—like a stone that oil and salt couldn’t penetrate. But now, up close, he realized for the first time how small her frame actually was, that the top of her head barely reached his chin, and that her amber eyes looking up at him were, in fact, quite soft.

Without thinking, he reached out again and touched her earlobe.

Soft and cool, like spring rain dripping from the eaves onto a fingertip.

Huayue stepped back quickly, putting distance between them.

Li Jingyun paused, withdrawing his hand, displeased. “I’m being this good to you today, and you still have complaints?”

“Young Master’s methods are impressive. This servant admits defeat.” She folded her hands and bowed to him, then raised her eyes—full of mockery.

“But using someone’s genuine feelings as a tool, stepping on them like that—that’s not what a gentleman does. It’s despicable.”

The words landed hard. Li Jingyun’s face darkened at once. “Do you really think I have no way to deal with you?”

“Reporting to Young Master—Young Master is the master, this servant is the servant. Naturally Young Master has plenty of ways to make this servant’s life a misery.” Huayue said this expressionlessly, mockery in her eyes. “Today alone, offending Miss Han is already more than this servant can handle.”

“…”

Rather clever, actually.

Han Shuang was jealous by nature; having been wronged today, she would surely go complain at the General’s residence, get Huayue removed from the East Courtyard. This had been Qin Sheng’s clever plan—precise, permanent, killing two birds with one stone. Yin Huayue should be pleased too.

Yet the person beside him truly looked wretched—rode with him in the carriage without another word, eyes lowered, cold and distant.

Li Jingyun felt inexplicably irritated.

The atmosphere in the carriage grew heavy. Huayue turned to look out the window, drifting slightly into thought.

Today’s Li Jingyun reminded her of someone from her past—someone favored and arrogant, who looked down on everyone, who once had countless sincere hearts offered up to him and dismissed them all, saying such messy trinkets weren’t even as interesting as marbles.

Amid laughter and idle talk, the sky had been bright, the palace towering, cranes carved on the flying eaves, a magnificent embroidered train trailing across the ground like a painting of grand rivers and mountains.

The carriage wheel jolted, her body pitched forward, and that vivid picture was instantly smeared by mud, unrecognizable.

Huayue came back to herself. Ahead was already the side gate of the General’s residence. Li Jingyun got out first, seemingly still angry about something, and walked in without so much as a glance back.

She followed slowly, in no hurry to keep pace. He didn’t want her around; she didn’t particularly want to see him either. She simply took a side path and returned to the East Courtyard alone.

Li Jingyun kept a stony face the whole way, and glanced back just as he neared the East Courtyard gate.

Well—so much for her lowering her head to make peace. Yin Huayue wasn’t even in sight.

He gave a cold laugh and swept through the door, sleeves flaring.

“Young Master.” Badou saw him return and hurried over. “Young Master Wen and the others are here. Hearing you were out, they’ve been waiting in the main hall over tea for an hour now.”

“Mm.”

Among the wastrel young masters mingling about the capital, anyone without a few cronies would be embarrassed to go out. But the Young Master’s cronies here were unusually extravagant—elsewhere, cronies would drink tea and gossip, fight crickets and birds. These few were different.

They fought each other.

The moment Li Jingyun pushed open the door, he saw chaos inside—Liu Chenghe had grabbed the sword off his wall and was locked in combat with Xu Changyi, sword-light flashing, cups and plates scattered in wreckage.

Wen Guzhi was trying to mediate, and the first thing out of his mouth was: “Brother Liu has always looked down on Brother Xu—what’s today’s fight even about?”

The moment he spoke, the two fought even more fiercely.

Li Jingyun shut the door again with a bang.

The room went silent for an instant. Then three shadows rushed the door, pounding on it wildly.

“Third Young Master, you’re finally back.”

“Third Young Master, come judge this—this fellow won’t even let me be at peace on your own territory.”

“Bah, you’re the one stretching your nose to play elephant.”

“Say that again!”

A racket of clanging and crashing erupted inside. Li Jingyun stood expressionless, then suddenly gave a cold laugh.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Not long after, the window nearby creaked open a crack.

Liu Chenghe poked half his head out, ingratiating. “My lord, calm down, let’s talk this over.”

Li Jingyun leaned listlessly against the doorframe and held up a single finger toward him. “One stick of incense.”

“At your command!”

One stick of incense later, the hall was spotless and tidy, and the three troublemakers sat kneeling properly on the couch before him, each cradling a cup of hot tea.

“We really didn’t come to wreck the place. We just heard your injury wasn’t light, so we came especially to check on you.”

“Feeling better? What did General Li say?”

Rubbing his own arm, Li Jingyun thought of the ridiculous bow Yin Huayue tied on him every day, his thin lips pressing together. “The wound’s healed. The old man doesn’t know about it.”

“He doesn’t know?”

Liu Chenghe’s eyes went wide, then filled with sympathy. He grabbed Li Jingyun’s hand, choking up. “We who are born into noble households inevitably lack a bit of family affection. No matter—let us fellow sufferers commiserate to—”

Before he finished the sentence, he was cleanly tossed out the window.

A loud bang. The room fell silent.

Li Jingyun sat back down, lowering his eyes, expression weary.

“What’s going on?” Wen Guzhi finally noticed something was off. “Third Young Master’s in a foul mood today.”

“Your wound’s healed, nothing major happened, and Han Shuang was sent home too.”

Right, everything was fine. Li Jingyun didn’t even know what he himself was upset about—just this stifling feeling in his chest, unable to let out a breath.

After a moment’s thought, he asked, “Do you all think I’m despicable?”

Wen and Xu stared at him in horror. One dashed over to feel his forehead; the other handed him hot tea. “Maybe you should get your head clear first?”

Li Jingyun clicked his tongue. “I’m serious.”

Serious made it even more alarming. Who in the whole capital would dare call this young master despicable? Even though they all looked like disreputable playboys on the surface, he was without question the most upright, pine-and-cypress-like of them all.

“What set you off today, Third Young Master? Tell us.”

“It’s nothing.” Li Jingyun paused. “Just a maidservant talking nonsense.”

“Hah, I thought it was something serious. A maidservant?” Xu Changyi leaned back, dismissive. “Whatever type Third Young Master likes, pick from my household—I’ve got every kind. I’ll have her packaged up and sent to you.”

“Not that.” Li Jingyun weighed his words carefully, thought it over, then sighed. “Forget it, it’s really not a big deal.”

A man normally so decisive, suddenly sighing like this—wasn’t that itself a big deal?

Wen Guzhi mulled it over. “Which bold servant offended Third Young Master? Point them out to me, I’ll deal with them for you.”

Li Jingyun glanced sideways at him. “They’re my household’s people. Since when is it your place to decide? Can I not handle my own household?”

He’d already handled it—handled it quite well, in fact. It was just that in the handling, he’d gotten bitten, and it hadn’t sat right with him since.

After all, in all his years, no one had ever scolded him before. Being annoyed about it was only natural.

Settling himself, Li Jingyun took a sip of tea to calm down.

Liu Chenghe, thrown out earlier, stubbornly crawled back in, a bit of spring mud still on his face. He patted his robe, aggrieved. “Someone shows you concern and you have the heart to treat them so ruthlessly?”

Xu Changyi snorted with laughter. “Of those who show Third Young Master concern, how many escape unscathed?”

“Third Young Master roams the martial world and has never been one for romantic entanglements. Not even brotherly entanglements. Step aside, don’t dirty the robe I just had made.”

Liu Chenghe pouted, then said, “When did you get a maidservant in your courtyard? Weren’t you against having personal attendants?”

Li Jingyun’s expression darkened, and he gave a cold laugh. “You really do know how to hit exactly the wrong note.”

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose, it’s got nothing to do with me.” Sensing something was off, Liu Chenghe quickly raised both hands. “I just happened to see a maidservant being escorted away from the back courtyard, that’s all I was asking about.”