The curtain fell, and the blood and violence of the game lodge were instantly shut out. The ornately painted carriages turned their wheels one after another, heading in a long procession up the mountain toward the hunting grounds.

Huayue knelt beside Li Jingyun, the heat still lingering faintly on the side of her face. She pressed her lips together and stole a glance at the man beside her, not daring to look closely, her gaze darting nervously, her heart uneasy.

“Speak up.” Li Jingyun swung the folding fan in his hand, his eyes sweeping over meaningfully. “Which great Buddha from which temple has the nerve to make a move against the Eastern Palace?”

Her brows drooped. Rubbing at her sleeve, she said in a low voice, “You saw it yourself, young master — I nearly fell victim to him too. We’re not accomplices.”

“But you know him.”

“We’re both from the palace. How could I not know him.” She spoke vaguely, carefully recalling what Chang Gui had said earlier, her lashes blinking. “Just an acquaintance, that’s all.”

Li Jingyun laughed, leaning back against the soft cushion, twirling the jade fan between his fingers. “Chang Gui is no ordinary palace person. He was a favored minister of the former dynasty’s First Prince, a strategist who frequented the Eastern Palace. Just being acquainted with a man like that would be more than enough for me to hand you over to the Eastern Palace for a reward.”

Her heart sank; Huayue grew faintly panicked.

This man’s manner was languid, as though chatting idly with her about everyday matters — impossible to tell what he was really thinking. In front of Zhou Heshuo he’d clearly claimed to only remember the face, yet it now appeared he actually knew Chang Gui.

“Struck dumb?” He raised an eyebrow. “Need to be sent before His Highness before you’ll find your tongue?”

“No.” Huayue shook her head quickly. After struggling for a moment, she gritted her teeth and, closing her eyes, said, “To be honest, I served under Master Chang once before.”

Li Jingyun paused, his dark eyes narrowing halfway. “Served him how?”

“Just serving tea and water,” she said. “Because of that I often went in and out of the Eastern Palace, and that’s how I came to know Sir Shen fairly well too — which is why Sir Shen said those things earlier.”

His expression shifted slightly. Li Jingyun gripped the fan, tapping it idly against his palm. “The people of Liang — after the chaos at Guanshan, your master fled. Why are you still in the palace?”

Huayue reached over and pinched her own thigh, her expression turning sorrowful at once. “My master fled without taking me along. I was just a palace maid with no other means of livelihood, so I kept serving in the palace. Later, during a reassignment of staff, I was sent to the General’s estate.”

That seemed to make sense. Li Jingyun nodded. “So what happened today?”

Huayue let out a heavy sigh, her eyes full of wistful sorrow, shaking her head. “Master Chang was extremely loyal to the First Prince. The First Prince died at the hands of the Crown Prince, so naturally he came seeking revenge. I don’t know how he learned I was here too, but he came to force me to help him assassinate the Eastern Palace. I refused, and so he pursued me to kill me.”

“As for what happened after, you already know, young master.”

Faint tears welled in her eyes now, her brows seeming crushed under sorrow. She looked up at him, innocent and aggrieved. “Though I am of Liang, I have never done anything to harm you, young master. Please see the truth of this.”

The carriage wheels creaked over the stone road, the compartment swaying gently, shaking her frail-seeming frame even more unsteady. She braced a hand on the edge of her seat, biting her lower lip lightly, tears glistening — truly a pitiful sight to behold.

Had he not seen her like this before, at Qifeng Tower that day, he might well have softened.

Li Jingyun laughed softly, folding the fan back toward his wrist, and reached out a fingertip to touch her reddened earlobe.

“Steward Yin is quite something. You understand well that excessive rigidity breaks easily and excessive cleverness invites early death — feigning weakness comes easily to you, being from Liang.” He sighed lightly, leaning closer to her, his fingers tracing from her earlobe to her chin, tipping it up slightly. “But what kind of person you really are — do you think I don’t know by now?”

Fooling the utterly unsuspecting Zhou Heshuo was one thing — could she really deceive the young master she’d lived alongside day and night?

Huayue tensed, a flash of frustration crossing her face, and then her expression slowly settled back into coolness, her willow brows straightening, the corners of her mouth flattening into a line once more.

Li Jingyun glanced her over and nodded, satisfied. “This suits you much better.”

“I wasn’t lying,” she said flatly. “If you’re willing to investigate, young master, the palace might still have records of my origins and my name.”

Li Jingyun snorted. “Why would I investigate that? I just want to know whether you’re a liability — whether keeping you at the General’s estate will bring harm to my family.”

The answer caught her somewhat off guard. Huayue glanced at him, then shook her head. “It won’t. No matter what, I would never do anything to harm the Madam.”

Li Jingyun gave her a helpless look. “You’re that fond of the Madam?”

“Yes.” Answering this, Huayue’s earlobes no longer flushed; she straightened her back. “The Madam is the best person in the world.”

Rolling his eyes at the ceiling of the carriage, Li Jingyun said in a muffled voice, “Even so, I still can’t feel at ease. Rather than keep a liability by my side, better to remove it early and avoid trouble down the road.”

Her face paled. Huayue looked up at him, trying to see some trace of jest on his face. But there was none — he spoke quite seriously, his dark eyes full of calculation, as if pondering how to dispose of her without leaving a trace.

“…Young master.” She frowned. “Keeping me around is more useful than selling me off, no matter how you look at it.”

“Oh?” Li Jingyun said dismissively. “Aside from being a nuisance in front of me, what use could you possibly have?”

“If we run into danger, I’m willing to share half my life with you,” she said, gripping her hands tight, her eyes burning bright. “Just as I did today.”

“Today?” He brushed a finger over his lips and gave a mocking laugh. “You really dare to say that. Wasn’t it in obedience to the Madam’s instructions, to help matchmake me with that Han family young lady? Taking advantage of a crisis, exploiting a fire to loot — wouldn’t that make Steward Yin guilty of embezzling what she was meant to guard?”

“Reporting to you, young master — the situation was urgent and I had no choice. It doesn’t count.” Not a trace of guilt showed in her eyes as she spoke, sounding entirely righteous.

Li Jingyun’s smile faded.

He gazed at her calmly, and after a long moment, repeated word by word: “No choice.”

The person before him looked away, a tendon standing out on her pale, slender neck.

He studied her for a moment, then asked softly, “If today someone were to hand me another mandarin duck pendant to give to Han Shuang, would you still tie it around my waist?”

“I would.” She nodded without the slightest hesitation.

The light in his eyes dimmed abruptly. Li Jingyun tilted his chin up to look at her, and after a long moment, gave a mocking laugh. “What a dutiful, conscientious servant indeed.”

“Thank you for the praise, young master.” Huayue bowed to him, hands folded in front of her stomach, her head lowering nearly to her knees. “I would never betray my master.”

The carriage fell quiet, the air growing somewhat stifling. Huayue stared at the pattern on her skirt, lost in thought for a while, then spoke up. “May I be excused?”

The man in the seat said nothing. She waited a moment, then began edging inconspicuously toward the carriage door. After edging along for quite some time, she finally reached the opening.

But just as her hand touched the curtain and lifted it a crack, Huayue suddenly felt a tightening at her waist.

A hand reached out and, in one motion, scooped her whole body backward.

“Thump—”

Her body hit the carriage wall with a muffled thud, startling the driver outside into asking anxiously, “Young master, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” His shoulders and back pressed against the carriage wall, Li Jingyun answered flatly, then lowered his eyes to look at the person in his arms.

His robe was wide, and just raising his sleeve was enough to bury half her body in it. She was clearly stunned, her head poking out from among the folds of his robe, thin lips slightly parted, her small face pale, eyes wide as saucers.

“You…” She turned her face to look at him, instinctively trying to pry his arm from around her waist.

Li Jingyun tightened his arms, asking in a drawling voice, “If I didn’t like the mandarin duck pendant, would you still wear it?”

Yin Huayue frowned, looking at him as if he were being unreasonable. “Of course I would. If you had nothing you liked, young master, and nothing were ever worn at all, what then?”

“And if you didn’t like it?”

Huayue froze, momentarily distracted, but quickly lowered her eyes and said stiffly, “I wouldn’t dislike—”

“You would.”

“…”

A flash of something flustered crossed her eyes. Huayue turned her face away, prying at his hand angrily. “Fine, I wouldn’t, so I wouldn’t. I’ll keep to my proper place as a servant — this sort of thing won’t happen again.”

“Didn’t you say that next time we’re in danger, you’d share half your life with me again?” He rested his chin on her shoulder, squinting with a sigh. “Turns out that was a lie too.”

“It’s not as if it has to happen every single time—” she gritted her teeth, her neck and face flushing red with anger together. “What nonsense are you talking about, young master.”

Twirling a loose strand of hair at her temple into a curl, Li Jingyun suddenly lowered his eyes, his voice turning hoarse. “I’ve been talking all this while just wanting one word of preference from you. A few words — is that so hard?”

Her heart skipped. Huayue’s breath caught.

She instinctively stared straight ahead, able to see only the swaying carriage curtain, her vision blurred, yet her other senses grew unusually sharp — she could feel his warmth through the fabric where his body pressed against hers, and turning her head slightly, she could catch the scent of sandalwood on him.

A scent she was ordinarily used to now seemed to leave her faintly dizzy.

His voice kept coming from behind her ear, warm and low: “I never made you repay me for the eight-steed painting, never punished you for overstepping your place. We’ve been together this long — I remember exactly what every scar on your back looks like.”

“So close, and yet you still refuse to tell the truth.”

He sighed, sounding troubled. “Sure enough, the cold-hearted Steward Yin.”

Something collapsed inside her chest, her fingertips twitching along with it. Yin Huayue pressed her lips together, stubbornly trying to resist this uncontrollable surge of emotion, yet her mind couldn’t help drifting back to that day at the training ground.

A blooming spear had struck fiercely against a blade’s edge, sparks scattering, the clang of metal ringing sharp. That man had stood there with his back to the light, a crimson tassel like fire in his hand, his gaze sharp and commanding, his sleeve sweeping up a swirl of yellow sand, the spear’s point stopping scarcely half an inch from Qin Sheng’s throat.

Beautiful beyond words.

Yin Huayue had seen that scene many times since, in her dreams, but each time, she only dared to stand watching among the crowd, and the instant he turned around, she’d hastily conceal her own gaze.

Her chest rose and fell; Huayue let out a breath.

After struggling for a long while, she finally reached out and, trembling, grasped hold of his sleeve.

“I…” Her throat tightened, and she opened her mouth with difficulty. “I have… feelings.”

This was the most direct thing she could bring herself to say — it took every ounce of courage she had, and left a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.

But the man behind her, hearing this, actually burst out laughing.

“Stammering?” He let go of her, his eyes brimming with the brightness of triumph. “Who would have thought the silver-tongued Steward Yin would have a day when her tongue couldn’t manage a straight sentence!”