Mountain wind poured in through the window, sweeping across the bright red paper of the birth date card, spinning once over the neatly written characters before blowing back out the other window.
Huayue pressed her lips together against the wind-tousled strands of hair at her temple, smiling as she looked at the person before her.
Su Miao carried the same fervor and boldness Huayue herself once had, vividly beautiful. Her skirt hem swept in a circle as she turned, two shallow dimples appearing on her cheeks as she tilted her head to ask, “Are you and Zhiluo old acquaintances, little sister-in-law?”
She didn’t answer right away, instead watching Su Miao’s fox-like eyes with curiosity. “Does the young miss like Master Shen very much?”
Su Miao broke into a grin, her fox eyes narrowing into two crescents. She sat down at the stone table in the courtyard, chin propped on one hand, answering with an artless honesty, “Yes, very much.”
“Why is that?” Huayue was genuinely surprised. In her impression, Shen Zhiluo was a cold, aloof man untouched by worldly affairs, while Su Miao was the most vividly blooming flame flower in that same worldly dust. Looking at the two of them from any angle, she couldn’t find a single point of resemblance.
As though she’d been asked this many times before, Su Miao answered smoothly, “Because he’s good.”
“Master Shen…” An image flashed through Huayue’s mind of that man looking down at the ants of the world from on high, and her face was full of confusion. “He’s good?”
“His looks are one of a kind, handsome and moving, and his temper is first-rate — interesting.” Su Miao pressed her palms together, her eyes bright. “Compared to all the pretty embroidered pillows of the capital, or my cousin here, who’s just a boring soldier, I think he’s the best.”
Calling him handsome and moving, Yin Huayue thought she could understand. But interesting temper? She wiped a hand over her face, unable to help but marvel that the young ladies of the General’s residence really had an unconventional way of looking at things — finding uniqueness in someone cold and easily angered.
After a moment’s thought, she said, “Back when I was in the palace, Master Shen and I were fairly well acquainted.”
“Oh?” Su Miao’s interest sparked, and she scooted closer. “Then do you know what unfortunate things he’s been through?”
“Not that I know of.” Huayue shook her head. “Master Shen is a man of destiny — born in the Palace of Sacrificial Peace within the imperial grounds. At five he could read the heavens, and at seven he was already conferred the title of National Preceptor. By the time I met him, he was already dressed in ceremonial robes, standing atop the sacrificial altar.”
Su Miao listened with open admiration, her gaze drifting off as if imagining what young Shen Zhiluo, that small, would have looked like in ceremonial robes.
But after just a moment, she came back to herself, frowning in confusion. “Not a single bit of hardship, and yet he’s so sorrowful?”
Sorrowful? Huayue paused, thinking over Shen Zhiluo’s face, unable to connect that word to him at all. Master Shen was solitary, and proud too. He knew everything and cared for nothing.
Except his own life.
A few unpleasant memories flickered through her mind, and she put a stop to that train of thought, only smiling. “The young miss needn’t worry too much.”
Su Miao blinked, saying with easy conviction, “If you like someone, of course you’ll worry for them — even if his days are going well, you’ll still worry whether he’s happy or not. Little sister-in-law likes my cousin too, hasn’t she ever worried about him?”
Li Jingyun? Huayue thought about it seriously for a moment, then shook her head. “The young master wants for nothing, and his mood is good every day.”
A flash of surprise crossed Su Miao’s eyes. She looked at Huayue, then turned to glance toward the main house, falling silent for a moment before muttering knowingly, “That’s really too pathetic…”
As if sensing something, the tightly shut door of the main house suddenly opened, and Li Jingyun stepped out, looking their way.
“Huayue.”
Yin Huayue, with her back to him, startled at the sound, then rose quickly and hurried to his side with small, swift steps, lowering her head to answer, “This concubine is here.”
The scene looked less like a young master and his favored concubine, and more like a master calling his dog.
Su Miao shook her head repeatedly at the sight.
Li Jingyun paid his cousin no mind, only leaning down to say something quietly to Huayue. She nodded obediently, then bowed toward Su Miao from a distance.
Su Miao nodded back, then rose, waving her hand at her heartless cousin before heading off, at ease, back to Shen Zhiluo’s courtyard.
Shen Zhiluo had apparently obtained what he wanted, but for some reason still looked displeased, reclining sideways on the imperial concubine couch, fiddling with the compass in his hand, his pale purple eyes utterly listless.
She stepped lightly through the door, meaning to startle him from behind — but the moment she raised her hand, he said coldly, “Your steps are too loud. Your lightness skill hasn’t been mastered.”
Her expression fell, and she plopped down beside him without ceremony, crossing her legs and propping her elbow. “You — can’t you just pretend you didn’t notice?”
Setting the compass down, Shen Zhiluo frowned. “You and I are betrothed, but the betrothal gifts haven’t been sent, nor have we bowed at the altar. Why do you keep coming here every day?”
“It’d be boring if I didn’t.” She lifted her chin, righteous. “Look — the moment I show up, your expression improves so much.”
Shen Zhiluo looked at her with considerable complexity, then went back to fiddling with the compass.
Su Miao asked curiously, “What are you calculating?”
“Calculating when Miss Su’s eye ailment will heal.”
Su Miao: “…”
After a moment’s silence, she laughed, grinning sweetly at Shen Zhiluo, thinking to herself that her man really was more interesting than anyone else.
“The Crown Prince intends to abolish the Household Affairs Bureau,” Shen Zhiluo said, changing the subject abruptly. “If your household has any grievances regarding the Bureau, you can report them together.”
Su Miao laughed. “What grievance could I possibly have — it’s already good enough that I haven’t given the Bureau’s people any grievances of their own.”
Lowering his eyes to the compass needle, his expression grew somewhat grave. “Better to find some matter to report anyway, rather than risk more people getting dragged in.”
This spring hunt, the Crown Prince had been ambushed, and quite a few lives had been lost on the mountain. Once they returned to the capital, the Crown Prince’s Imperial Guard would surely face heavy consequences. To minimize the losses, the Crown Prince would certainly divert the blame elsewhere, striking at the Household Affairs Bureau, aiming straight at the vital point shared by the Princess Imperial and the Central Palace.
This much, Shen Zhiluo had calculated. So had Li Jingyun.
The difference was, Li Jingyun looked entirely unconcerned, his mind wholly occupied with how to tease his pet.
Dinner was held together in the eastern courtyard, the long mountain-delicacy table crowded with cups and dishes, fragrant with wine and cooked meat. Huayue sat beside Li Jingyun, quietly studying the dishes on the long table.
Xu Changyi gripped his wine cup, worried. “Third Young Master, this time it seems they’ve gone too far.”
Answering absently, Li Jingyun tilted his chin toward a plate of roast lamb, saying to Huayue, “This lord wants that.”
Huayue looked at him, troubled, and picked up her silver chopsticks to move a piece over to his bowl.
Displeased, he clicked his tongue, not moving, simply opening his mouth again.
“Young Master.” Huayue tried to reason with him. “There are so many people watching here…”
He didn’t move, his ink-dark pupils fixed on her, carrying both impatience and a hint of grievance, as though asking — she wouldn’t even let him eat meat?
Helpless, Huayue held the chopsticks in one hand, cupped the meat beneath with the other, leaned over to feed him quickly, then set the chopsticks down, glancing left and right anxiously, the tips of her ears going faintly red.
This little demeanor was far more pleasing to him than her usual falsely gracious smile. Li Jingyun nodded with satisfaction, then said to Xu Changyi, “It has nothing to do with us.”
Xu Changyi, thoroughly displeased with this display of being besotted with a pretty face, said, “Third Young Master, the ancients always said — beauty is the graveyard of heroes.”
Li Jingyun swallowed his meat, finding the taste good, and casually picked up another piece to feed Huayue, continuing his reply without missing a beat. “Anyone whose tomb ends up being a beauty’s arms wasn’t much of a hero to begin with.”
That seemed to make some sense, and Xu Changyi nodded along before growing angry again. “I’m not trying to argue the truth of the saying.”
Li Jingyun nodded perfunctorily, then lifted his chopsticks again, gesturing for her to open her mouth.
Huayue looked a bit embarrassed but still smiled gently, saying quietly, “Please, eat it yourself.”
“Open your mouth,” he said.
“This concubine isn’t hungry yet.” Her expression was the picture of restraint. “Too much wild game gets greasy.”
Nodding as though enlightened, Li Jingyun agreed wholeheartedly. “You’re right.”
Then he said again, “Open your mouth.”
Huayue: “…”
The flush had already crept from her ears to her cheeks. She lifted her sleeve to cover her face and quickly snatched the meat off his chopsticks with her teeth, then pouted with mild annoyance. “You should listen to what Master Xu is saying too.”
“This lord heard him,” he said with a snort of laughter. “But sitting here today wasn’t about that anyway.”
Xu Changyi startled, glancing instinctively at Liu Chenghe beside him, hoping for some analysis of what the Third Young Master’s words meant.
He found Liu Chenghe entirely unmoved, sipping wine, looking at him with a look reserved for fools. “Third Young Master, don’t mind him — his mind hasn’t been clear these past two days.”
Being said this by Wen Guzhi would have been one thing, but being mocked by Liu Chenghe was a great humiliation. Xu Changyi set down his chopsticks, ready to start something, but then two coughs sounded from across the gathering, and the lively chatter around them died down. The whole courtyard gradually fell quiet.
Huayue turned along with everyone else’s gaze and saw a somewhat portly man in fine brocade standing in the courtyard, holding up his cup with a beaming smile. “Thanks to Brother An’s invitation, to share in such fine fare with all you honored guests today is truly fortunate. But this one’s household is in mourning, and cannot partake of wine or meat, so allow me to toast you all with tea in its place.”
This man clearly held some standing, and everyone at the gathering gave him face and drank along. Once he’d taken his seat, the murmured discussions resumed.
“Isn’t that Master Mei?” Xu Changyi sipped his wine, asking quietly. “What mourning has struck his household recently?”
Liu Chenghe glanced over and answered, “Master Mei’s wife had a loose tongue, often gossiping idly around the household. Some days ago she offended an imperial taboo, ate the wrong thing, and died.”
Xu Changyi drew a sharp breath.
Huayue chewed slowly on the meat in her mouth, her gaze somewhat distant.
Great Liang’s imperial house was formidable — every household had a Household Affairs Bureau set up, so that any inappropriate action by a subject could be discovered at once, nipped in the bud.
But it was, admittedly, rather lacking in human warmth. Officials were people too, none of them made of wood and grass — if even at home one dared not speak freely, who would be happy about that?
Sure enough, with Master Mei as an opening, more and more people at the gathering began murmuring about the Household Affairs Bureau, and even Liu Chenghe turned to Huayue and said, “It just occurred to me — didn’t little sister-in-law also spend time in the Bureau?”
Li Jingyun shot him a sideways glance.
“Ah, I don’t mean to pick at old wounds, don’t get worked up,” he said quickly, waving his hands. “I just recalled and wanted to ask — if it really comes to what the Crown Prince said, and the Bureau gets abolished, will the Third Young Master be stepping in?”
Instinctively, she touched her own back. The wound there had healed, but the scars crossed over each other, an unsightly mess. Huayue’s eyes lowered slightly, and she pressed her lips together.
Li Jingyun continued picking food to hand to her, saying indifferently, “Plenty of other households have lost wives and daughters, even had cases of confiscated estates. Why would it come to this little servant girl of mine?”
Relieved, Liu Chenghe patted his chest and laughed. “That’s good then. I was worried you’d fly into a rage over a pretty face and wade into this mess for no reason.”
“I won’t.”
Getting the answer he wanted, Liu Chenghe happily went back to his drinking.
Li Jingyun glanced sideways — his little pet sat quietly beside him, no trace of resentment or grievance on her face, only her hand reaching slightly behind her, her gaze distant, as though troubled by her own scars.
No woman wouldn’t want flawless, jade-smooth skin — not even Manager Yin was an exception. He’d once mocked her, saying a body full of scars like that would never find a husband’s house — though now she’d found half of one, at least — but thinking of the ghastly wounds on her back, she couldn’t quite manage to laugh either.
Chewing numbly on whatever meat and vegetables someone had put in her bowl, Huayue began trying to recall whether she’d ever seen a scar-fading remedy back when she worked in the Imperial Pharmacy.
By the time she came back to herself, her mouth was nearly too full to fit anything else.
“Young Master.” She said, cheeks puffed out, torn between laughter and tears. “If you can’t finish, just leave it — don’t feed it all to this concubine.”
“Not good?” He raised an eyebrow.
It was good, it was just… Huayue struggled to swallow what was in her mouth, rather resentfully. “This concubine isn’t some starving ghost reincarnated.”
“Mm.” He nodded, and handed the teacup to her lips instead. “Open.”
Huayue drank the tea down to the last drop, following the guidance of his hand.
Xu Changyi, watching beside them, dropped his chopsticks in shock. He turned, whispering urgently to Liu Chenghe, “Is this really our Third Young Master? The one who used to go to Qifeng Pavilion and wouldn’t even pick out a girl?”
Liu Chenghe sighed with deep feeling. “If Han Shuang saw this, she’d probably cry the whole palace down.”
“Good thing or bad thing?” Xu Changyi asked, uneasy. “They say women are always the ruin of men’s affairs. Throughout history, those besotted with beauty never seem to end well.”
After some thought, Liu Chenghe shook his head. “Not always. There was an emperor in Wei’s history who doted entirely on his empress — only the Central Palace’s Fengyue Hall in the whole harem was occupied — and nothing bad ever came of it. The dynasty even flourished.”
Xu Changyi fell silent, glancing over that way again.
Someone came to offer a toast, and Li Jingyun couldn’t very well decline, drinking several cups in a row. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes grew slightly hazy. Huayue watched silently, seemingly unconcerned, still eating from her own bowl.
But when the sixth cup was brought over, just as Li Jingyun reached for it, pale slender fingers beat him to it, gripping the rim of the cup first.
“Young Master has had too much to drink — allow this concubine to take this one for him.” Huayue looked at the young lady before her, whoever she was, and smiled graciously. “Forgive us.”
That young lady looked somewhat displeased, but Yin Huayue tilted her head back and drank the cup dry without hesitation. Not only that — she picked up another cup on the table and smiled. “This one’s an apology. Another day, when the young master’s had less to drink, this humble one will toast the young lady properly.”
Her fair, pale throat tilted back, the fine veins faintly visible, and she drank cleanly and thoroughly, tipping the cup upside down afterward without a single drop left.
However displeased she remained, there was nothing left to fault. The young lady bowed helplessly and turned to leave. Huayue sat back down beside Li Jingyun as if nothing had happened, going back to gnawing on the bear paw in her bowl.
She kept her eyes lowered and didn’t look sideways, but Xu Changyi and Liu Chenghe saw it all clearly — the Third Young Master, who moments ago had been playing at drunkenness with hazy eyes, was now silently curving his lips upward, his ink-dark pupils gleaming as he watched her.
That delighted little look in his eyes — it was as if Yin Huayue had just personally cleaved open heaven and earth like Pangu himself.
Xu Changyi and Liu Chenghe exchanged a glance and shook their heads in unison.
Hopeless.
“Little sister-in-law can really hold her liquor,” Liu Chenghe teased. “Better than the Third Young Master, even.”
Nodding along, Li Jingyun was about to add a compliment of his own when he heard a sharp “clack.”
It sounded like teeth striking against the rim of a bowl. Yin Huayue’s face was buried in her bowl, and suddenly there was no movement from her at all.
Li Jingyun: “…”
He quickly reached out to pull her up, and looking down, found her expression barely changed, not even a hint more flush, but her eyes were half-closed, gazing at him hazily, a sulky look on her face.
“Want to sleep,” she mumbled.
Startled for a moment, Li Jingyun burst out laughing, pulling her against himself, letting her lean into his chest, and teased her quietly, “No sleeping at this banquet. It would be disrespectful.”
Her small, soft claws gripped his collar, and the person in his arms mumbled, “Then let’s go back and sleep.”
“The wine hasn’t finished. People won’t let us leave.”
Making an irritated sound, Huayue rubbed her face against his collar and turned away, reaching again for the cup on the table — but whether her arm was too short or something else, the cup, so close before her, kept eluding her grasp. She reached upward, and the cup seemed to move further away.
Her temper flaring, Huayue braced herself up, both hands reaching to grab for it, but the cup seemed to have sprouted wings, floating still further up.
“Third Young Master.” Xu Changyi could no longer bear to watch. “Isn’t this a bit shameless of you?”
Li Jingyun propped his head on one hand, the other holding the cup as he teased the person in his arms, saying with great satisfaction, “Shameless is fine. This lord is quite happy being shameless.”
…That just made it worse.
Xu Changyi wiped a hand over his face, deciding it was pointless to reason with the Third Young Master right now — after all, anyone poisoned by a love-bug like this was already a fool.
Having failed to catch the cup several times, Huayue narrowed her eyes and went still.
Li Jingyun said “Hm?” and swung the cup in front of her, thinking she’d truly fallen asleep.
But the instant he relaxed, the person in his arms struck like lightning, springing up and snatching the cup in one motion.
Huayue was overjoyed, her almond eyes curving into a smile, her cheeks finally flushing pink. But the motion had been too sudden, and with no support for her body, the moment she hugged the cup to her chest, the scene before her suddenly tilted.
She saw the table and dishes fly upward, saw Xu Changyi and Liu Chenghe both go crooked and lopsided, staring at her in astonishment.
Half a sleeve appeared before her eyes, spilled wine from a dropped cup soaking through, the scent of wine blooming around her. Then her whole body fell into that scent, warm and grounded, like a dream.
Grinning, she nestled further into this dream-feeling.
Li Jingyun meant to scold her, but the words hadn’t left his mouth before he felt warmth on the side of his neck.
She had tilted against his shoulder, her lips landing right against him, as though she’d mistaken him for the bear paw — she bit down once with an “om,” her small teeth barely able to close around even his skin, gnawing at it a couple times before losing steam, pouting in defeat, extending the tip of her tongue to lick at it instead.
A tingling sensation spread from the side of his neck through his entire body, and Li Jingyun’s body went rigid, his expression shifting sharply.
The person in his arms noticed nothing at all, making a soft sound, her wine-scented breath spilling against his neck.
“Don’t move.” Li Jingyun’s voice had gone hoarse, and he tightened his grip on her waist. “This lord is not a piece of roast meat.”
A dark surge churned in those ink-dark eyes, pressing like storm clouds over a city wall, urgent and threatening to break loose — but Huayue couldn’t see any of it. All she remembered was that she’d gotten her cup, and the wine in it seemed gone too, so she gripped his collar happily and said, “Can we go back now?”
This time, Li Jingyun didn’t tease her further. He took a deep breath, slowly pressing back down the turbulent thing churning at the bottom of his eyes.
“We can.”
Xu Changyi and Liu Chenghe, one looking left and one looking right, both pretended to have seen nothing at all. Li Jingyun glanced at them and said in a low voice, “This is yours to handle now.”
“Safe travels, Third Young Master.” The two answered together.
Li Jingyun left quickly, the person in his arms held steady, hardly jostled at all.
But once back in the main house, she was still uncomfortable, her brow furrowed tightly as she looked at him, saying quietly, “Need to bathe.”
Having only ever seen Manager Yin’s disciplined, dignified side, this willful, spoiled manner was something new to him. Li Jingyun, torn between amusement and exasperation, reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Fine, this lord will have someone bring the tub up.”
“No.” The person before him suddenly turned stubborn, her mouth pouting high. “I won’t bathe in a tub. I want a bathing pool, one built with jade stone and gold steps.”
Had it been anyone else, he’d have tossed them right into the fish pond by the rockery. But faced with this hazy, wine-flushed face, Li Jingyun found he couldn’t muster any anger — his heart even softened a little.
He reached out to touch her burning cheek, saying quietly, “The pool you’re describing is in the imperial palace. You can’t see it right now even if you wanted to.”
Huayue paused, staring at him blankly. “I can’t go bathe in the palace?”
“That’s right.”
Two gentle, soft syllables — he thought he’d answered gently enough. But the person before him, hearing this, slowly welled up with tears, mumbling brokenly in a hoarse voice, “Why not…”
His heart tightened, and Li Jingyun clicked his tongue, hurriedly gripping his sleeve to wipe her face. “What’s there to cry about.”
She pouted, as though she’d suffered some enormous injustice, tears wiping away only to spring right back up, crying in hiccupping sobs.
“Fine, fine, fine, this lord will take you to a bathing pool.” Wiping his own face, he bent down to scoop her up, threatening through gritted teeth, “No more crying.”
Her arms lay limp over his shoulders, Huayue gazed at him hazily, then suddenly broke into a smile through her tears.
The traveling palace had a bathing pool built beside a hot spring, the larger and smaller pools partitioned off into an elegant bathhouse.
Her hairpin fell into the water with a soft plink, her dark hair spreading out like an endless spill of night.
Under the night sky, this beauty’s face was as bright as the moon, luminous even in its flush.
Her thin inner robe, soaked through, clung to her skin in wet, revealing lines. Her collar, gradually loosened by the rippling water, exposed a curve of pale, lustrous shoulder.
The person in the pool seemed unaware, gazing at him hazily through drunken eyes, as if waiting for something. After a long moment, seeing him not move at all, she pouted with disappointment, then reached out her hand toward him, soft and weak.