It wasn’t just him — everyone nearby watching had been stunned speechless. Even Han Shuang was dumbfounded for a long moment before she reacted, rising and calling out urgently, “You know yourself you’re a servant, how dare you say such a thing!”
The moment she spoke, Biezhi behind her also dropped to her knees, her voice thick with tears, “This one begs Your Highness to seek justice for my young lady!”
Murmured discussion rippled through the surrounding crowd. The Princess Imperial pinched at the jewel set into her nail guard, her gaze sweeping sideways toward Li Jingyun.
Things had escalated to this point, and she’d assumed he would step forward and say something, if only so she’d know what he was thinking. But he didn’t. Li Jingyun simply stood off to the side with his hands folded behind his back, quietly watching the little hoof on the ground.
A flicker of displeasure rose in her, and she turned to ask Biezhi, “Seek justice for what?”
“Your Highness, please see clearly — this Yin girl and I are well acquainted. I never guarded myself against her, and even told her everything about my young lady’s happy match with Young Master Li. Who could have known she harbored other intentions — sneaking into the young master’s room at night, forcing him to take her as a concubine.”
Biezhi knocked her head to the ground, her voice mournful. “That day I personally caught her sneaking out of the young master’s room, and she even hurled vicious words at me, saying my young lady has no name and no standing, unfit to concern herself with her. Your Highness, my young lady grew up under your own care — how could she suffer such humiliation from this wicked servant?”
Every word, every phrase, sounded as though wrung from wronged and weeping blood, and everyone listening couldn’t help but feel for the Han family’s young lady.
The Princess Imperial flew into a rage, slapping the armrest of her phoenix chair. “Such a thing could happen!”
Huayue knelt properly upright, her expression unchanged even as the wind from the Princess’s fan swept over her, as though it weren’t her that Biezhi had accused. She kept her brows gently curved, hands folded calmly in her lap, entirely composed.
No one echoed the outburst of anger with cries for mercy. Zhou Heji glanced at her, a flicker of bewilderment passing through her. “Miss Yin, you have nothing to say?”
Huayue came back to herself and smiled unhurriedly. “Miss Biezhi has spoken with such passion and feeling, this servant wouldn’t dare interrupt.”
“You’re clearly just guilty and have nothing to argue!” Biezhi glared at her resentfully, her voice pitched so loud it completely drowned out anything Huayue might say.
So Huayue fell silent again, tilting her head to regard her with an amused look, not bothering to argue a single point.
Her composure was so complete that even without raising her voice, she lost nothing in presence. Next to her calm bearing, Biezhi began to look somewhat hysterical.
A feather tipping the scale.
A trace of surprise crossed her eyes, and Zhou Heji finally looked properly at this young servant girl, waving a hand for Biezhi to be quiet, pointing her little finger toward Huayue. “She’s finished. Your turn.”
“As for the crimes Miss Biezhi described—” she said with a light laugh and a shake of her head, “this servant does not admit to them.”
“You!” Biezhi was furious. “On what grounds do you deny it!”
“On the grounds that the one this servant is fond of is no puppet in another’s hands. He knows right from wrong, and he understands the warmth and cold of people’s hearts.” Huayue raised her eyes to Li Jingyun, the corner of her eye lifting slightly. “If this servant truly had done such a thing, how could the young master have let it happen as this servant wished?”
Li Jingyun, who had said nothing this whole while, lowered his gaze to meet hers. The calm lake in his eyes seemed struck by a thrown stone, ripples spreading outward at once. His lips curved, as though laughing at her: even now, she doesn’t forget to flatter him a little?
Huayue smiled brightly, thinking to herself — if she didn’t drag him into this now, who knew how much longer he’d sit back and enjoy the show.
Zhou Heji followed her gaze to Li Jingyun and finally spoke to him. “Jingyun, what do you say?”
Drawing his gaze back, Li Jingyun looked at the person beside him with an expression of complete surprise. “The Princess Imperial is wise and decisive — why would such a small matter need my input?”
Zhou Heji’s displeasure sharpened. “She’s a maid at your side, naturally it’s your affair. Whether she used tricks to gain standing — shouldn’t you be the one who knows that best?”
Li Jingyun nodded as though realizing something, then laughed. “The servants in these official residences have always been handled by the Princess Imperial through the Household Affairs Bureau. Suddenly being asked about it, I truly didn’t react in time — I beg Your Highness’s forgiveness.”
He said it with utmost sincerity, his handsome brow full of apology, even cupping his fist in a bow to her.
The Central Palace and the Princess Imperial oversaw the various official residences through the Household Affairs Bureau, and its high-handedness had long displeased many people — but no one had dared say so to the Princess Imperial’s face until now. Li Jingyun was the first.
Zhou Heji wanted to be furious, but there was nothing wrong in what he’d said. For a moment she could only sit with a cold expression and silence, her gaze deep as she studied the man before her.
“Jingyun, that’s not quite right of you to say.”
In the hush, another voice suddenly rang out from the other side, carrying an easy, hearty laugh as it approached.
Everyone turned, and saw Zhou Heshuo lift the curtain with a smile and step onto the viewing platform where the Princess Imperial sat. His gaze swept over the kneeling figures on the ground before settling on Zhou Heji. “Our Great Liang imperial house governs by propriety — we shouldn’t be meddling in the household affairs of our subjects. The fault here lies with Royal Sister; why would Jingyun need to beg forgiveness?”
Li Jingyun bowed with a wry smile. “How could the Princess Imperial ever be at fault — Your Highness the Crown Prince speaks too gravely.”
Her expression didn’t change on the surface, though inwardly she was already seething. Zhou Heji lowered her head and smoothed the handkerchief in her hand, her voice drawn out. “Why has the Crown Prince come over again?”
“I heard Jingyun has taken a concubine, and specially prepared a congratulatory gift. But I couldn’t find him anywhere, so I thought I’d come see Royal Sister instead.” Zhou Heshuo’s smile was thoroughly false as he turned to look at the person kneeling on the ground. “So this is the one Jingyun chose?”
“Yes.” Li Jingyun clasped his hands. “Taking a concubine is such a small matter, how would I dare trouble Your Highness with it.”
“Ah, it’s rare for you to pick someone you actually like on your own — this deserves attention.” Zhou Heshuo patted his shoulder with satisfaction, then looked to Huayue. “Why are you still kneeling? Get up.”
Huayue lowered her head in thanks, rose slowly, smoothed her skirt, and stepped back to Li Jingyun’s side.
Biezhi wanted to speak up, unwilling to let it go, but a glance at the Crown Prince made her hesitate, and after a moment she swallowed the words back down.
Seeing this, Han Shuang suddenly began to sob. Already a delicate beauty, with a few added touches of tearful distress, she looked all the more pitiable.
The Princess Imperial said hastily, “Shuang’er, don’t cry. This palace is here.”
“Aunt…” She seemed about to speak, then stopped, turning to look toward Yin Huayue’s direction. Suddenly she stood and walked quickly over.
Everyone around them was startled. Li Jingyun frowned, instinctively moving to stop her.
But the moment his body shifted, someone beside him lightly pressed against him — pale, slender fingertips quietly pressing against his elbow, as if signaling him not to interfere.
Confused, Li Jingyun’s movement stilled anyway, and he watched, eyes wide, as Han Shuang walked up to her.
“What do you want?” She grabbed Huayue’s hand, tears streaming down. “Whatever you want, I can give it to you, just give him back to me.”
The more she spoke, the harder she cried. Han Shuang’s eyes reddened, her voice trembling even at the tail of each word. “He and I — so many years… so many years, and I’ve only been waiting to marry into his house.”
“If you want to be his concubine, fine, I can accept that too. But not at a time like this… now that you’ve come, if I want to stay by his side, I’ll have to wait another year.”
“I can afford to wait. But I shouldn’t have to.”
Crystal tears slid down her cheeks in strands, and she looked at Huayue with a resentful, almost pleading expression — anyone watching would feel a pang of sympathy for her.
Li Jingyun watched with cold amusement inside. This was Han Shuang’s favorite trick — using feelings as leverage to force concessions, shameless and impossible to counter. Anyone who refused her became the most heartless man in the capital.
He turned to look at Huayue, wanting to say something to help her.
But when his gaze shifted, he saw that Yin Huayue’s eyes were even redder than Han Shuang’s.
Li Jingyun: “…”
Her face nearly translucent with pallor, Huayue’s lips trembled, and large teardrops rolled down her cheeks. She mimicked Han Shuang’s manner, her voice choking, her shoulders shuddering uncontrollably. “This servant begs Miss Han to spare her — this servant wants nothing, this servant only wants to live…”
Even the trembling in her voice matched Han Shuang’s, if not worse, her body swaying in the wind as she sank down to kneel before her.
A barely perceptible twitch crossed the corner of Han Shuang’s eye.
Her fingers trembling, Huayue laid a hand over her own belly, lowering her head as tears bloomed across the front of her robe, spreading into a stain. She seemed to want to speak and yet couldn’t, and finally, holding her stomach, she bowed her head to both Han Shuang and Li Jingyun.
“This servant would never dare meddle in the affairs of her betters. This servant only begs that misfortune not fall upon her family — please, Miss Han, Your Highness, spare this servant.”
Her small frame trembled like a flower about to wilt.
For some reason, Li Jingyun felt an odd swell of pride. His little pet was quite something, wasn’t she — able to out-cry Han Shuang herself?
And honestly, she cried even more prettily than Han Shuang did.
Han Shuang, clearly not expecting anything like this, froze in place, forgetting even to keep crying. “You… your belly?”
Raising her head to bite her lip, Huayue’s expression was innocent and pained at once. “This servant truly had no choice.”
Too pitiful — Li Jingyun almost wanted to wipe his own eyes watching. Manager Yin really could do it all, refined in the hall and capable in the kitchen, and now able to play the poor delicate flower too. Look at that fragile little pose — it hardly matched the image of her leading guards around to corner him before.
Nodding with satisfaction, he shifted his gaze away, only to meet Han Shuang’s shocked eyes.
“Brother Jingyun, you… how could you!” Her finger jabbed accusingly at him, then at the belly of the woman on the ground. Han Shuang seemed close to breaking down, her lips trembling for a long moment before she burst into tears with a loud wail.
This wasn’t some private chamber — there were eyes everywhere. The Princess Imperial’s face couldn’t hold, and she quickly had Biezhi help Han Shuang away.
Zhou Heshuo, having thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle, laughed. “Jingyun, congratulations, congratulations.”
Li Jingyun returned the bow with a smile, then turned an awkward expression toward the phoenix seat.
Zhou Heji pressed her fingers to her brow, no longer willing to even look up. She had meant to deal with this little servant girl today, then go back and have Madam Zhuang arrange the marriage between the Li and Han families. Who could have guessed things would twist around until it was she who couldn’t step down gracefully.
And it didn’t help that Han Shuang was useless — couldn’t even hold onto a man’s heart.
“Isn’t the Imperial Brother supposed to be going up the mountain to hunt?” she said impatiently. “The hour is still early, go on. This gathering is done for now.”
Li Jingyun reached out and pulled Huayue up, asking softly, “Does she still bear any guilt?”
“You’re the one who picked her — how could this palace decide any guilt?” Zhou Heji waved a hand, no longer willing to look. “Everyone, disperse.”
The onlookers murmured their agreement and began to leave, but Zhou Heshuo suddenly laughed once more. “Royal Sister, there’s something that’s been weighing on me for a while — today I really must speak my mind.”
Zhou Heji didn’t respond, her expression darkening.
“This Household Affairs Bureau has existed for years now, costing no small sum every year, yet serving no real purpose beyond letting people vent private grudges and disturbing others’ households. I believe — let the capable govern the realm, and let the incompetent merely guard against gossip. The sooner this Bureau is abolished, the better.”
Not waiting for her to respond, Zhou Heshuo continued on loudly, regardless. “This matter, I will also memorialize to Father Emperor as soon as possible.”
“Absurd.” Zhou Heji flung her sleeve, her brow icy. “Something established for years — can it simply be abolished on a whim?”
“Success lies with people.” Zhou Heshuo swept his gaze across the crowd, laughing lightly. “As long as enough people believe it should be abolished, then it’s wrong — and Great Liang has no reason to keep something that’s wrong.”
With that, he gave her a mock formal bow and departed at ease.
Most of those present were nobles, ministers, and generals, and hearing this, each had their own thoughts stirring. Zhou Heji, her head spinning with fury, gripped a eunuch’s arm and called for her carriage back to the palace, her steps chaotic and hurried.
Li Jingyun paid it no more mind, taking Huayue straight back to their courtyard.
Thinking she’d cried so hard earlier, she really ought to have some tea to settle her breathing. He shut the door and turned to look for the teapot.
When he turned back, he found a poured cup of tea already held out to him — slender fingers, the same color as the porcelain.
His brow lifted, and Li Jingyun looked up at her, only to see that the misery on her face had vanished without a trace, the redness around her eyes gone clean. She had returned entirely to her usual composed bearing and smile, saying lightly, “Please, have some tea, Young Master.”
“…” All the coaxing words he’d prepared were swept away by the tea, and Li Jingyun gave a light snort, eyelids lowered. “You really are something.”
“Young Master flatters this servant.” Huayue smiled. “Knowing today that Young Master had my back gave this servant a bit more courage.”
Only “a bit”? He sighed inwardly. She’d been able to withstand the full pressure of the Princess Imperial — there weren’t many in this world with that kind of nerve. Give her two more shades of favor and she might just march up and paint on the Princess Imperial’s own face.
“Is there anything you want?” he said, feigning nonchalance. “You did well today. You deserve a reward.”
She sat beside him, and her eyes, previously unruffled, lit up at once at his words. “This concubine wants…”
“Not that bundle of things,” he cut in.
Disappointed, she pursed her lips, fell silent for a moment, then brightened again. “Then…”
“Not the main courtyard either,” he added.
As if doused in ice water from head to toe, Huayue wilted entirely, hanging her head and muttering listlessly, “Never mind, then.”
Amused, Li Jingyun propped himself up, sat cross-legged facing her, and tilted her chin up with a finger. “Clothes, jewelry — don’t women all like these things?”
Huayue met his gaze evenly, her eyes carrying a look of mild pity for him. “My lord, you already had this concubine keep two red envelopes — what clothes or jewelry could this concubine not buy for herself?”
Slightly choked, he grumbled, “You really have no sense of romance.”
Helplessly, she spread her hands and smiled at him. “If this concubine were truly some enchantress capable of bewitching Young Master, then there would be plenty of romance — asking Young Master for the stars and the moon. But as things stand, asking for such things would only be pointless.”
A flicker of something crossed his eyes, and Li Jingyun lowered his gaze to hide it, his expression slowly darkening.
He pressed his lips together, his tone deepening. “In front of so many people, you could even speak of admiration — why is it that in front of me, you dare not say a single thing?”
The person before him looked genuinely surprised, her almond eyes widening slightly. “Playing a role in front of others, of course one can say anything. But there’s no one else here now — why put on airs of love and affection? You don’t like that sort of thing anyway.”
Who told you I don’t like it?
Irritated, Li Jingyun leaned back against the soft pillow and turned away, brow furrowed as he stared at the incense burner on the windowsill, thin lips pressed into a line.
This person had no sense at all, not the slightest awareness that he was annoyed. She even handed him a candied fruit. He glared at it without taking it with his hand, simply opening his mouth instead.
Huayue, helpless, leaned forward to place the fruit in his mouth, but since he was half-reclined, the feeding motion was awkward, and the hand bracing her on the couch trembled slightly.
Her attention fixed on the hand supporting her weight, she wasn’t looking at him — and in the next instant, she felt warmth against her fingertip.
This young master’s mouth had opened, and it wasn’t just the candied fruit he’d taken in — it was her fingers too.
Her face flushed crimson in an instant, and Huayue yanked her hand back quickly, rubbing it against the soft pillow without thinking. Before she could gather herself, the hand that had been bracing her weight was suddenly pulled.
She blinked, stunned, feeling everything before her slow down all at once.
She could see the butterfly outside the window slowly fanning its wings, could see the shadow of tree branches cast through the flower-lattice window swaying against the sill, could see the dark embroidered pattern on Li Jingyun’s collar growing larger and larger before her eyes.
A moment later, everything returned to normal, and she found herself fully collapsed into his arms.
Her hairpins trembled, her cloud-dark hair loosened, her red skirt tangled messily over his dark robe.
Li Jingyun accepted this “throwing herself into his arms” with considerable delight, the violence in his eyes dispersing, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he reached out to pat her head and asked, “Acting coy?”
Yin Huayue: “…”
She had no idea where this man — the one who had just yanked her hand — found the nerve to ask that. She could only marvel that the Third Young Master truly was skilled in the arts of romance, with no shortage of tricks for teasing people.
But she’d grown used to facing this with composure by now, and answered without any inner disturbance, going along with him. “That’s right — so won’t Young Master agree to give that bundle back to this concubine?”
His chest shook with laughter. “Little one, that bundle isn’t something you can just pick up. Give up on it.”
She wrinkled her nose in displeasure and braced herself against the couch to sit up — but felt a weight pressing down on her back, and this troublesome man had already pulled her right back into his arms.
“Don’t move.”
Huayue, torn between laughing and crying, said, “Young Master, why be so close with this concubine? There’s no one else here either.”
His ink-dark pupils flickered slightly, and Li Jingyun pressed his lips together, then suddenly sighed with a wistful air. “This lord fell gravely ill once, as a child.”
“Burned out your brain?” she interjected without thinking.
“…”
The room fell silent. Li Jingyun narrowed his eyes and shifted the hand pressing down on her shoulder to grip the back of her neck instead.
“…This concubine knows her mistake, speaking too quickly. Please forgive her, Young Master.” Huayue was remarkably flexible in yielding, immediately rubbing his chest soothingly. “Calm down, please continue.”
The pressure on the back of her neck vanished, and the man beneath her went on. “Back then, Madam Zhuang was often not in the household, and I wasn’t close with my wet nurse either, so I’d always hide alone under the blankets and cry, afraid I wouldn’t survive.”
“From that time on, this lord always wanted someone to hold him — but Madam Zhuang had no time for that. Later, when this lord grew up, he no longer needed her to hold him either.”
Huayue listened quietly, a certain shock rising in her heart.
She had never known what had happened back then to leave mother and son so estranged. Hearing these few sentences now, she felt an unexpected pang of tenderness.
She had assumed he was a young master who’d grown up pampered and doted upon — she hadn’t imagined he’d once known such helplessness.
The innate kindness of a woman’s heart softened at once, and she stopped resisting, letting him hold her.
Stroking the head in his arms, Li Jingyun smiled with satisfaction.
Deceiving his own pet dog with his own hands — fatty water doesn’t flow to outsiders’ fields.
Perfect.
The two of them stayed tangled together on the soft couch, sharing a rare stretch of harmony and quiet the length of an incense stick burning down.
But after that incense stick burned out, Su Miao’s voice sounded outside the door.
“Cousin, I’m coming in.”
Huayue, who had nearly fallen asleep, bounced up the instant she heard the voice, hands bracing on his chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
The door creaked open, and Su Miao poked her head in, spotting Huayue there too, and said with a grin, “Perfect timing — little sister-in-law, come take a walk with me. Zhiluo says he has something to discuss with Cousin.”
Giving her a sideways glance, Li Jingyun snorted with laughter. “Not even married yet and already siding with outsiders.”
Su Miao pouted, then dragged Huayue out laughing, pushing Shen Zhiluo in as she went.
The two brushed past each other, and Shen Zhiluo’s gaze fixed on Yin Huayue for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly.
“What business does Master Shen have?” Li Jingyun got off the couch and reached to shut the door behind Su Miao.
The two young women chattered off into the distance, and Shen Zhiluo listened for a moment, making sure they were far enough away, before saying, “The Third Young Master’s promised trade from last time — the item hasn’t been handed over yet.”
Remembering the matter, Li Jingyun said nothing further, walking straight over to retrieve the seal and pressing it into his hand.
“And the rest?” Shen Zhiluo frowned.
Li Jingyun snorted. “You want it all handed over in one go? You married Su Miao without much enthusiasm — who’s to say you won’t wrong her down the line? The rest will come slowly, one piece a year. If you don’t agree, you can still back out now.”
Shen Zhiluo laughed in exasperation. “For all that you’re a young master of the General’s residence, how can you be so shameless.”
“The General’s residence deals in troop movements and tactics — shamelessness is the very essence of it.” He laughed, brushing dust from the man’s shoulder. “This is what’s called deception in warfare.”
Not wanting to say more, Shen Zhiluo turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him with a bang.
Li Jingyun found it amusing. This Shen Zhiluo always played the detached, otherworldly sage in front of others, yet for some reason was always irritable and short-tempered around him. Perhaps this was just what it looked like when someone who’d lost the one they loved dropped all pretense.
He’d never lost anyone that way. He couldn’t understand it.
Shaking his head ruefully, Li Jingyun turned to tidy the scattered yellow brocade wrapping.
Everything else in this bundle he could identify, except for one carved pendant, engraved with a birth date and an orchid pattern, no other name attached — not one belonging to any scion of the Great Wei imperial clan. It left him puzzled.
Taking the pendant out again for another look, Li Jingyun was about to put it back absently when something flashed through his mind.
Born female, Yuande year, tenth month, twentieth day, hour of the dragon.
Not quite believing it, he took it out again to check, and after confirming he hadn’t misread it, he opened another drawer, pulling out the birth date card Yin Huayue had given him before, checking the characters written there.
— Born female, Yuande year, tenth month, twentieth day, hour of the dragon.