Magnolias bloomed fragrant in the courtyard, their scent drifting through the flower-lattice windows, mingling with the wisps of curling incense smoke to fill the entire main house.

For a moment, Madam Zhuang didn’t quite register what she’d heard — it had been such a long stretch of words, long enough to feel like a dream, a dream in which an innocent, lovable child tugged at the hem of her skirt, harboring no hatred or resentment toward her, only beaming as he showed her a pure white fawn.

She wanted to laugh, but her eyes ached with a swelling pressure instead.

“Madam.” Huayue called to her softly, cupping her cold hands, reminding her quietly, “The young master is speaking to you.”

Coming back to herself with a start, Madam Zhuang turned toward Li Jingyun’s direction, wanting to speak, but something seemed lodged in her throat. She swallowed, and nodded hastily.

Seeing this, Huayue smiled. “Madam has agreed.”

Li Jingyun nodded, his gaze lingering on Madam Zhuang for only a moment before shifting away. He turned to find himself meeting his father’s deep, searching eyes.

“You’re back just in time,” Li Shoutian said. “There’s something Father wishes to discuss with you.”

Madam Zhuang, hearing this, quickly pulled Huayue toward the door, her steps unsteady enough that Huayue didn’t dare let go of her hand for a moment, escorting her all the way out of the main house.

“Madam.” Huayue said, mildly scolding. “Why the rush — what if you’d stumbled?”

Her brow furrowed slightly, though she was smiling, Madam Zhuang held onto Huayue’s hand as before, her voice hoarse. “I’m… just so happy…”

Something tightened in Huayue’s chest, and she sighed.

She helped Madam Zhuang walk toward the garden, soothing her breathing along the way, and only once she’d fully calmed did she say quietly, “This servant has something to report to Madam as well.”

The garden was bright with spring light. Madam Zhuang sat by the rockery, listening quietly as the person beside her stammered through an account of what had happened on the mountain.

Huayue held nothing back, telling her everything, her heart pounding with worry the whole while, afraid of upsetting Madam into some kind of fit.

But Madam Zhuang, hearing it all, neither scolded nor questioned her — only smoothed the loose hair at Huayue’s temple with a look of worry.

“Do you like Jingyun?” she asked.

An inexplicable warmth rose in Huayue’s chest, and she lowered her head awkwardly, flatly denying it. “This servant harbors no improper feelings toward the young master.”

“Then what do you plan to do?” Madam Zhuang said gently. “You can’t afford to stand at the center of attention like this.”

“This servant knows.” Huayue crouched slightly beside Madam’s knee, nuzzling affectionately against her. “This servant has already thought it through. Later, this servant will petition the young master to let her come care for Madam in the main courtyard — this servant can stay by Madam’s side just as before, and go nowhere else.”

The gentle hand stroked Huayue’s dark hair, and Madam Zhuang tilted her head back to look at the hazy light above, suddenly recalling many old memories from years past.

“Just her, then?”

“Just her — bad temper, doesn’t get along with people easily, clumsy with her hands too. None of the officials wanted her, they were going to send her off to the laundry office.”

“Then let her come with me.”

“What?”

“From today, she is my servant girl.”

“…”

The memory carried with it visible dust and light, and a pair of impossibly gentle hands, reaching through a nightmare of terror and torment, gently gathering her into an embrace.

Pat—

Huayue thought it had started raining, and looked up in confusion, only to see Madam Zhuang’s gaze fixed vacantly on some distant point, tears falling in strand after strand from the corners of her eyes.

“Madam?” She hurried to fetch a handkerchief to wipe her face. “What’s wrong?”

Madam Zhuang came back to herself, wiped away her tears, and smiled. “The light outside is too bright. It’s hurting my eyes.”

That was an excuse Huayue had heard, if not a hundred times, then at least ninety-nine. She studied her with a grave expression, then asked seriously, “Was the General mistreating you again while this servant was away from the main courtyard?”

“No.” She smiled, folding the handkerchief neatly. “The General and I are husband and wife. How could he mistreat me?”

Husband and wife, indeed — ever since Huayue had entered the household, the General had never once spent a night in the main courtyard. Madam didn’t even receive a single gift on her birthday each year, and even sharing a meal together was rare. What kind of husband and wife was that?

Looking her over from every angle, Huayue couldn’t help but feel Madam had grown thinner. She guessed Shuang Jiang wasn’t as attentive in her care as she herself would have been, and Madam wasn’t the type to reproach anyone — there was no telling how much she’d silently endured.

She resolved, privately, to do something about it.

Li Jingyun stood in the study, listening in silence as Li Shoutian spoke.

“Father has given it thought — in a few days, I’ll submit a memorial to have you appointed to the Weapon Forging Bureau,” he said, seated in his chair, hands folded. “This way, in a few years, you’ll be able to take over Father’s position.”

“The Han family’s young lady is quite suitable. If you find her acceptable too, then Father will pick an auspicious date with you, and we’ll bring her in properly.”

“Father is growing old. This vast Li family estate will need you to carry it, sooner or later.”

Li Shoutian spoke with what sounded like heartfelt sincerity, though carrying a rather condescending air — after all, everyone envied the Li family’s military authority, and he had more than one son. To have arranged this much for Jingyun was, in his mind, the greatest favor a father could bestow.

Yet the person before him showed not a flicker of emotion as he listened.

“What.” Li Shoutian said, displeased. “You have objections?”

“None.” The hem of his blue-black robe swept up and settled again as Li Jingyun spoke, his expression somewhere between a smile and mockery. “Father’s favor is the kind of fortune a son could only dream of. But—”

The corner of his eye tilted upward slightly, the roguish air he’d kept suppressed for so long surfacing again through the crack of his knuckles.

“I don’t need it.”

The study fell silent for a moment, then a scoff of laughter rang out.

“You don’t need it.” Li Shoutian looked up at him, his gaze deep. “So you intend to be a wastrel for the rest of your life, feeding off the Li family’s flesh and blood, a useless failure of a man?”

His voice grew louder as he spoke, until he was nearly slamming the table as he rose. “I won’t support you forever. The moment you leave the Li family, leave behind this Third Young Master title of yours, you’ll be nothing at all!”

Li Jingyun showed no surprise at all at this outburst, listening calmly to his own father’s mockery, only asking a question in the brief pause while the man caught his breath: “What were you and Mother arguing about earlier?”

His breath caught for a moment, and Li Shoutian frowned, his expression complicated. “Why ask about that — you’ve never cared about your mother before.”

“However little I care, she’s still the one who bore me from her own body,” Li Jingyun said, stretching lazily, his tone offhand. “If nothing’s wrong, better not to go bother her anymore. You look at her and it irritates you — she probably doesn’t much want to see you either.”

Choking slightly, Li Shoutian was caught between anger and laughter. “Now you’re even lecturing me?”

“Wouldn’t dare.” He lowered his head, cupping his hands earnestly toward him, then said under his breath, “Just tired of hearing it.”

Li Shoutian paused, his hands on his lap tightening unconsciously.

He hadn’t chatted with Jingyun like this in far too long. For all these years, he’d mostly learned of his son’s movements through others’ mouths — having people keep him confined at the estate, or send him off to the training grounds to be hardened.

Looking at him now, this boy seemed to have grown taller, his features more filled out, less of the solemnity he himself carried, and more of some sharp edge Li Shoutian couldn’t quite read.

He stood before him just like this, with not the slightest trace of reverence, speaking as easily as if to a friend. “By the way, your son took the liberty of taking a concubine.”

Li Shoutian very nearly fainted from shock. “Took a concubine?”

Bracing himself against the table as he stood, he said, flustered and furious, “How dare you — how dare you commit such an act of defiance!” Manager Yin! Get Manager Yin here for me!”

Li Jingyun said, as though realizing something, “You assigned Manager Yin to my side specifically so she could keep watch over your son and report back to you at the first sign of trouble.”

He said this with a growing smile, reaching to hand over a cup of tea, lifting it level with his brow, his eyes rising along with it. “Your son anticipated exactly this — which is why the concubine he took happens to be her.”

Li Shoutian: “…”

The old servant dozing outside the study door was jolted awake by a sudden, thunderous crash, nearly leaping straight up from where he sat, and then a furious roar erupted from inside: “Get out—!”

The old servant, thoroughly startled, scrambled to open the door to see what had happened, only to find the Third Young Master strolling out as though nothing had happened at all.

“Uncle Xiang.” The Third Young Master smiled at him. “Have some more heat-clearing tea prepared for my father.”

“Ah, yes.” Uncle Xiang answered instinctively, then watched as the young master’s robe hem swept jauntily off toward the courtyard entrance.

Behind him, his father’s furious, gasping breath sounded from the dim study, punctuated with a few angry coughs.

On his way back to the eastern courtyard, Li Jingyun’s mood was fairly calm, even pleasantly anticipating that someone would be waiting to act coy with him — he was, in fact, rather looking forward to it.

But once he saw her, his good mood evaporated.

Huayue knelt obediently before him, her eyes bright as she watched him, her small claws scratching lightly at the hem of his robe, seeming to want to say something and yet holding back.

A bad feeling stirred in him, and Li Jingyun narrowed his eyes. “What are you scheming now?”

“Young Master~” Her voice lifted at the end, blinking softly and sweetly up at him. “If one day this concubine and your precious blade both fell into the garden pond together, which would you fish out first?”

A chill ran through him, and Li Jingyun said with disdain, “The blade.”

“Then this concubine and the book on your couch…”

“The book.”

“Then the painting of the eight steeds on the wall…”

“The painting of the eight steeds.” He answered these ridiculous questions without a shred of hesitation, his brow twitching. “You still have the nerve to bring up the eight steeds painting?”

The person before him grinned foolishly, glancing sideways at the painting on the wall, still bearing an unpatched hole, and rubbed her hands together lightly. “So it seems, in Young Master’s heart, this concubine holds no place at all.”

Ordinarily, a statement like that ought to come with resentment and accusation. But from her, it somehow sounded almost celebratory.

Displeased, he tapped the low table on the couch, but before he could say anything, she suddenly threw herself forward, kneeling before him, eyes full of pleading. “Then — could this concubine go back to the main courtyard to care for Madam?”

He glanced at her sideways, snorting. “Go for a few days if you like. This lord isn’t that petty.”

“Not that.” Huayue shook her head, tugging at his arm coaxingly, giving it a gentle shake. “What this concubine means is — maybe… not come back to the eastern courtyard at all.”

The light in his eyes stilled, and Li Jingyun’s smile slowly faded, his gaze turning cool and distant as he looked at the person before him.

She was still smiling, her eyes filled with nothing but earnest hope — no reluctance, no testing him, only a clean, sincere plea.

Something that had been steadily, securely fastened in his chest suddenly snapped loose, sinking down into some dark, bottomless place, and the sudden loss and unease that followed left him a little panicked, and a little angry too.

“What do you mean by that,” he asked.

Huayue seemed rather surprised by this reaction. She let out a small “ah,” then withdrew her hand and sat back properly, looking up at him with curiosity. “Wasn’t taking me as a concubine just meant to block the Han family’s marriage proposal? Now that it’s blocked, so long as this concubine stays within the General’s residence, isn’t staying by Madam’s side the same as staying by yours?”

It made a certain sense, and he took a deep breath, nodding with a laugh. “You’d already worked all this out?”

When she’d agreed to become his concubine, that had indeed been her calculation. She’d thought that once she said it, Li Jingyun would readily agree — after all, in her view, he didn’t like her much anyway, and if anything, being able to send her away would give him more freedom.

She hadn’t expected him to seem displeased at all.

Her heart gave a small twinge, and Huayue blinked, something odd flickering in her eyes. “Young Master, are you… reluctant to let this concubine go?”

“No.” He leaned back, bracing a hand against the couch, his eyelids lowering. “This lord simply doesn’t like being schemed against.”

Guiltily lowering her head, she mumbled, “It couldn’t be helped.”

The hand braced on the couch tightened.

Li Jingyun looked away, somewhat flustered, then abruptly gave a mocking huff of laughter.

She was the servant most skilled at ingratiating herself — she could smile at him, bow to him — but ultimately, it was all just to survive at his side temporarily, out of desperation, with no other way out.

He’d grown too comfortable with these easy days, actually believing they could go on like this indefinitely.

“Young Master?” The person before him studied his expression somewhat hesitantly. “If you truly want this concubine to stay, then…”

“Suit yourself.” He pushed himself up off the couch, strands of dark hair loosened from his jade crown falling to half-cover his face. “Go wherever you like. This lord’s courtyard isn’t short of people.”

With that, he swept his sleeve and turned to walk out.

“Where is Young Master going?” she asked hastily.

The man paused at the doorway, turning his head with a devil-may-care grin. “This lord’s going to Qifeng Pavilion. Coming along?”

“…” She waved her hands stiffly. “This concubine will wait for you here.”

The tension along his jawline caught the light from outside, curving into an arc. He pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes toward the light beyond. “What’s there to wait for. If you want to go to the main courtyard, go now. While this lord’s out, get everything packed up properly.”

“So you’ve agreed?” She tilted her head.

He tugged the corner of his mouth into a smile and waved a hand. “Granted. Congratulations, Manager Yin.”

His sleeve lifted, flapping in the wind like a black kite, and carried him out with it. Huayue watched him disappear beyond the gate of the eastern courtyard, a trace of loss flickering in her amber eyes.

But it lasted only a moment, barely the size of a fingernail, before she pushed it down again and set about tidying the room, efficient and clean.

Li Jingyun walked briskly, pulling a horse at random from the stables and galloping straight to Qifeng Pavilion. The place didn’t open during the day, but the powder-and-rouge-painted proprietor, seeing it was him, wordlessly opened up a private room on the third floor.

The empty room held nothing but wine, but wine there was in abundance.

Breaking the seal, he said nothing, simply picking up the wine jar and starting to drink straight from it.

The proprietor had never seen him like this — usually the most smooth-tongued of men, he now stood dumbfounded, calling out uncertainly, “Boss…”

Glancing over, Li Jingyun snorted. “Who allowed you to call me that.”

Startled, the proprietor quickly corrected himself. “Third Young Master — broad daylight, what’s this about? Should I send for the other young masters to join you?”

“No need.” He laughed. “This lord’s in a good mood today. Came to try your aged fine wine.”

The proprietor didn’t dare speak further, fetching a wine cup to pour for him properly, at least better than drinking straight from the jar.

“Where is he?” Liu Chenghe’s voice suddenly rang out from downstairs. “Proprietor!”

His brow furrowing, Li Jingyun turned to look.

The proprietor jumped, waving his hands quickly. “This one has no idea — this one’s been standing right here, didn’t send word to Master Liu at all.”

Rather irritably sweeping aside the low table before him, Li Jingyun stood, wine cup in hand, and strolled unhurriedly to the corridor, glancing down. “What are you shouting about?”

Liu Chenghe, spotting him there, hurried around the stairs and up, panting, “I was just about to have the proprietor send word to the General’s residence — Third Young Master, Changyi’s been taken in.”

His finger tracing the rim of the cup, Li Jingyun asked, somewhat puzzled, “Taken in where?”

“The prison,” Liu Chenghe said, spitting out the two words, his expression grave. “The Metropolitan Governor just took people in — the charge is bribery. Even Master Xu was summoned to the yamen.”

“…”

The haze in his eyes cleared instantly, and Li Jingyun threw down the cup, pulling Liu Chenghe along as he turned to head downstairs, his expression turning serious. “Where’s the evidence?”

“The banknotes from the spring hunt,” Liu Chenghe said, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “By rights this shouldn’t have been an issue, but this time someone kept a card up their sleeve — the watermark and seal on the notes could be traced, and once they got out, it was clear where they came from. Guess who reported it?”

He continued, unable to contain his fury, “It was the very servant who delivered the red envelope to Changyi in the first place. Nice, isn’t it — even if he has no way out himself, he’ll drag the Xu family down with him.”

A shadow of confusion crossed his eyes, and Li Jingyun fell silent for a long moment before asking quietly, “What does Old Madam Xu say?”

“She’s already gone into the palace to seek an audience with the Central Palace, but from the looks of it… he might not be saved.” Liu Chenghe’s expression was grim. “Their side handed over silver that dragged our people down with it — how could the Central Palace possibly let this go.”

The Central Palace and the Princess Imperial were of the same faction, and giving out those red envelopes on the mountain earlier had been meant to keep them from interfering, so they could take the opportunity to eliminate certain people around the Crown Prince they’d long wanted gone. This mutual slaughter between the two factions happened every year at the spring hunt. Li Jingyun had saved quite a few people his first year doing this, but later found it no longer mattered to him, accepting the red envelopes and turning a blind eye.

But he hadn’t expected the Princess Imperial to play this particular hand of mutual destruction against him this year.

Perhaps provoked by his taking a concubine?

Li Jingyun laughed coldly, walking out to mount his horse, taking Liu Chenghe straight to the office of the Metropolitan Governor.

“Brother Jingyun.”

Arriving at the gate, the first thing he saw wasn’t anything else, but Han Shuang standing there waiting, as though she’d known he would surely come, hurrying forward with an anxious expression. “Shuang’er has something to say.”

Li Jingyun didn’t look at her, handed his horse off to a groom, and turned to head inside.

“Brother Jingyun, it’s not what you think.” She hurried up several steps, spreading her arms to block his way, her eyes full of urgency. “Shuang’er would never do anything to harm you. Something went wrong somewhere in this — even the Princess Imperial doesn’t know about it. Could you please hear me out before you go in?”

He paused, glancing at her impatiently.

Han Shuang flinched at his gaze, retreating half a step, but quickly steadied herself, pulling him aside and saying quietly, “The servant who delivered the red envelope was from the Princess Imperial’s chambers, but no one expected he wasn’t one of our own people from Great Liang — he’s a leftover slave from the previous dynasty. This person had some scheme of his own, and even risking his life, went and made a false accusation. There must be a bigger plot behind this.”

“Brother Jingyun, you mustn’t fall for it so easily.”

His gaze settled on her shifting eyes, bottomless, and he listened quietly as she finished speaking before letting out a soft laugh.

“Han Shuang.” He addressed her by name. “You’ve always looked to the left when you lie, ever since you were little. Do you not realize this, or do I not?”

Her heart gave a jolt, and Han Shuang quickly lowered her eyes, gripping her handkerchief tightly. “I’m not lying to you. This matter truly is something the Princess Imperial knew nothing about. Going in there now won’t get you any answers — better to check where the banknotes ended up going. That servant’s always been kept close by the Princess Imperial, so he surely couldn’t have gotten rid of the notes himself. He must have an accomplice.”

Shifting his gaze away from her face, Li Jingyun said coldly, “No need to trouble Miss Han with this.”

His dark robe, embroidered with hidden patterns, brushed past her pale green skirt as Li Jingyun, Liu Chenghe in tow, strode without a backward glance through the gates of the Metropolitan Governor’s office.

“Third Young Master.” Once they’d walked some distance, Liu Chenghe finally dared to speak. “What Han Shuang said doesn’t seem entirely unreasonable either — the one who filed the accusation was holding a five-hundred-tael banknote. By rights, shouldn’t all those notes have been in Manager Yin’s hands?”

Something shifted faintly in his posture, and Li Jingyun said nothing.

Sensing something was off, Liu Chenghe lowered his voice. “I’m not trying to suggest anything, but with Changyi locked up now, getting him out won’t be easy. His father’s health isn’t good either — if this drags on, something could really happen to him.”

His slender fingers picked up the drumstick beside the grievance drum, turning it once between his fingertips.

Li Jingyun looked at the fresh drumhead, then suddenly laughed. “This lord’s here now. Even if he wanted to stay in that prison, he wouldn’t be able to.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the drum sounded.

Liu Chenghe tried to stop him but was too late, able only to watch helplessly as the drumhead shook, and then two rows of men poured out from the yamen, slowly surrounding them.

…

Huayue had just finished packing the last piece of clothing when she suddenly felt a strange unease. Puzzled, she looked around but saw nothing amiss, and lowered her head to tie off the bundle.

Half a red envelope still remained; she hadn’t dared count how many banknotes were inside, and didn’t much feel like bringing it along, so she simply tucked it beneath Li Jingyun’s pillow, gathering up only the boxes bought from Baolai Pavilion, struggling to carry them all out.

The sight of her, laden with boxes, looked exactly like someone who’d struck it rich and was heading home in glory.

Teasing herself over the image, Huayue stepped out of the eastern courtyard, unable to resist glancing once more at the main house before closing the courtyard gate behind her.

She couldn’t quite say what she was feeling, and didn’t want to dwell on it, heading straight to place her things in her own room in the main courtyard, arranging them neatly before going to deliver soup to the General on Madam’s behalf.

Carrying the steaming soup tureen on a tray, Huayue took a private detour by way of the eastern courtyard, wanting to see if Li Jingyun had returned yet.

Just as she passed through the moon gate, she saw the steward chasing after a group of yamen runners into the courtyard, calling out repeatedly, “How can you just come search like this — this is our young master’s courtyard, oh… the General’s still in the residence!”