Li Jingyun was in an excellent mood today. What was a birthday banquet, after all, if it didn’t produce at least one death to truly bring out the “death-defying” spirit of a birthday celebration?

The death had struck the Han family, and dragged Situ Feng right along with it — that made him even happier. Two birds, one stone, killing multiple purposes at once. He had no idea which immortal deity had made this move, but he was grateful for it.

The Grand Princess had arrived with the Imperial Guard, but the two commanders leading them happened to be old acquaintances of his. Rather than giving him trouble, they’d instead chatted with him warmly.

The three of them talked their way from the main hall around to the side corridor, and he lifted his eyes cheerfully—

Only to see two shameless creatures standing in the hallway, tangled together.

“…”

Huayue had been thinking that Zhou Hemin visiting the General’s residence tomorrow would surely be better than not, so saying a few kind words now, even with her head lowered, seemed a worthwhile investment. But she hadn’t expected that before she could even finish speaking, someone would suddenly appear beside them.

“Why is Your Highness here?” Li Jingyun’s voice sounded calm.

Huayue turned quickly to look at him, and seeing him unharmed and every bit as dashing as usual, her heart eased somewhat. She bowed silently in greeting.

Zhou Hemin answered with easy composure. “I came out for some air, and happened to run into a lost young lady — I was just about to point her the way.”

He turned to look at her, and Li Jingyun’s gaze followed, landing on her face, a trace of hostility flickering in his eyes.

Huayue was utterly baffled — why was this man looking displeased with her again?

Zhou Hemin was giving her a look, signaling for her to answer. She composed herself and followed his lead. “This servant came looking for young master. Never having been to this place before, I lost my bearings for a moment.”

“Is that so.” Li Jingyun said the words flatly, then cupped his hands toward Zhou Hemin. “In that case, this one thanks Your Highness.”

“No need for thanks, third young master.” Zhou Hemin waved generously. “I still haven’t thanked you for having Crown Prince brother let me off the hook earlier. Tomorrow, when I have time, I’ll send over the gold-threaded jade saddle Father just gave me — it’ll match your blood-sweating steed nicely.”

Li Jingyun lifted the corner of his mouth, neither refusing nor accepting. Zhou Hemin took this as agreement and gave a carefree wave of his sleeve. “Then I’ll take my leave. Carry on.”

Huayue bowed to him. From the corner of her eye, she caught him winking at her.

See you tomorrow — that was the meaning she read from his glance.

Quite a generous sort, not taking it to heart with her, even willing to lend a hand. Huayue let out a relieved breath, unable to help a slight upward curve of her brows.

Zhou Hemin left satisfied, his carefree figure disappearing quickly at the end of the hallway. Li Jingyun withdrew his gaze coolly, nodding to the two men behind him. “There’s no need to see me off further.”

“Ah, alright, third young master, rest well.” The two men tactfully took their leave.

Camellias grew along both sides of the hallway; a breeze passed by, carrying their fragrance. Huayue breathed it in lightly, her eyes glinting faintly.

“You’re in a good mood?” the man before her asked.

“Reporting to young master, more or less.” She answered with unusual honesty. “I was rather anxious at first, but now I find I’m not bothered anymore.”

“Why?” he asked again.

Huayue looked up at him strangely, thinking, what kind of question was that even to ask? A servant beside her master — even if the sky fell, the master would be there to hold it up. Naturally there was nothing left to be anxious about.

But as she looked up, she caught sight of Li Jingyun’s stormy expression.

He seemed to have run into some kind of trouble, his eyes swimming with irritation and impatience, staring fixedly at her as if trying to see straight through her. His hands were clasped behind his back, the beast-embroidered sleeves fluttering slightly in the wind, giving off an inexplicable, mountain-crushing pressure.

If this had happened before, Huayue would have simply thought he was having one of his moods again. But now, with the Grand Princess’s words still turning over in her mind, she thought that the third young master had it rough too — behind that carefree, dissolute appearance, who knew how much bloodshed and turmoil he’d already been through.

She let out a soft sigh and asked with a smile, “Young master’s going to rest — may this servant come along?”

Li Jingyun let out a cold laugh, walking straight past her toward the guest quarters.

Huayue: “???”

If he was going to let her follow, let her follow; if not, don’t — what was there to laugh coldly about?

Grumbling internally for a moment, she hesitated, then followed after him in small steps anyway, muttering to herself the whole way: Bear with it, bear with it, this is your own master.

He found a chair in the room and sat down, half-lidded eyes watching the person who came in after him, wearing an expression that expected a full confession.

And yet, this woman, following him in, noticed nothing at all. She obediently went to stand at his side and even poured him a cup of tea.

Li Jingyun let out an exasperated laugh. “You have nothing to explain to me?”

Huayue was busy thinking about what to prepare for tomorrow, and this abrupt, headless question left her utterly bewildered. “Explain what?”

“The Fifth Prince.” He gritted his teeth, tapping the edge of the table. “What were you doing pulling on his sleeve?”

Ah, so that was it. Huayue answered without much concern. “Earlier this servant misspoke and worried it might cause trouble for young master, so I pulled him back to explain.”

“Do you not know what avoiding suspicion means, what proper conduct means?” The table rattled under his tapping. “And a sleeve is something you can just go around pulling?”

She’d heard of men and women avoiding physical contact, but never that sleeves specifically couldn’t be touched. Huayue thought he was deliberately picking a fight with her, and said, smiling without any warmth in her eyes, “Then next time this servant needs to pull someone’s sleeve, I’ll bathe and burn incense first, report to the ancestors, and only then proceed.”

Was she talking back to him again? Li Jingyun was thoroughly infuriated, wanting to scold her but not even knowing where to start.

“Third young master.” Wen Guzhi came looking for him, poking his head halfway through the doorway to scan the room. Seeing only the two of them there, his expression relaxed, and he stepped in with a smile. “The coroner from the west courtyard sent word — preliminary examination shows Han Tianyong was drugged first, then had his throat slit.”

Li Jingyun acknowledged this with a sound, then asked in a deep voice, “Any leads on the culprit?”

“None yet. There were only the two of them in the west courtyard at the time, not even a servant present — no one saw anyone come or go.” Wen Guzhi thought for a moment. “As for that pot of tea, I examined it — it was laced with ‘Two-Liang Moon,’ a famous sedative from the Northern Desert.”

What a coincidence — Situ Feng happened to be from the Northern Desert.

Pressing his brow in silence for a moment, Li Jingyun scoffed. “Serves him right.”

“Karma, I suppose.” Wen Guzhi glanced toward Huayue standing to the side, teasing, “I wonder if little sister-in-law happens to know Situ Feng — this man earned no small merit during the destruction of the Great Wei imperial family.”

“I don’t know him.”

Like hell she didn’t.

Huayue smiled faintly, her mood lifting another notch. She thought Chang Gui was rather a fool — assassination was so uninteresting, one splash of blood and it was over, the suffering lasting only an instant. Someone like Situ Feng, though — he shouldn’t get to die so easily.

A dark, twisted knot began coiling and expanding inside her. She licked her lips, glancing sideways.

Li Jingyun was watching her intently, his ink-black eyes giving nothing away.

“…” As if doused with cold water, Huayue snapped back to herself instantly, her slightly unrestrained gaze returning to normal.

Guiltily, she lowered her head to look at the tips of her own shoes.

Li Jingyun frowned, turning to Wen Guzhi. “Go keep watch for now. When the Imperial Guard leaves, go back to the palace with them.”

Wen Guzhi understood, cupped his hands, and took his leave.

The door closed behind him, hollow floral carvings scattering fractured patterns of light across the floor. Huayue was still staring at them when her wrist was suddenly caught, and she was pulled down into a seated position.

Li Jingyun caught her securely, pressing her down with one hand, then rested his chin listlessly on her shoulder. “Have you been doing something bad behind this one’s back again?”

Her heart skipped. Huayue lowered her eyes. “When has this servant ever done anything bad behind young master’s back?”

“Don’t play games with words.” He said coldly by her ear. “You know Situ Feng.”

A chill crept up from the base of her spine. Huayue shifted uncomfortably, only to be held tighter. She wanted to argue, but his tone was far too certain, without even a hint of a question in it — arguing wouldn’t accomplish much.

So she pressed her lips together and stayed silent, looking down at the edge of her skirt draped over his robe.

“This one’s only curious about one thing.” Guessing she wouldn’t confess either way, Li Jingyun pinched her fingers, saying with irritation, “If you have a grudge against Situ Feng, why was it Han Tianyong who died?”

Because he happened to get in the way.

Huayue answered in her mind but didn’t say it aloud.

He didn’t seem to expect an answer either, continuing on his own. “With the Crown Prince protecting him, Situ Feng likely wouldn’t have paid with his life anyway — at most, he’d have been demoted or transferred out of the capital.”

The person in his arms shifted, trying to break free.

Li Jingyun caught her hands, displeased, and used his other hand to tilt her chin up. “The fox’s tail is showing, and you still dare to bare your teeth at this one? Do you want this one to send you off to the Crown Prince to claim a reward?”

“If young master truly wishes to send me, then send me,” she said, looking into his eyes, her voice distant. “This servant would be glad to ask the Crown Prince what exactly young master was doing on the second day of the fourth month.”

“…” His expression shifted slightly, and Li Jingyun narrowed his eyes.

“Young master maintains a close friendship with the Crown Prince, basking in the shelter of his tree, yet secretly saved the Grand Princess’s man and accepted her red envelope of gratitude.” Huayue sighed softly. “Young master is curious about my affairs — how could this servant not be equally curious about young master’s own doings?”

“You’re threatening me?”

“This servant wouldn’t dare.” She shook her head, her eyes calm as she looked at the patches of light on the floor. “This servant only wishes to keep to her own place, to be a servant of the General’s household. I ask young master to be merciful.”

Do not wrong me, and I will not wrong you. Wrong me, and we go down together.

Li Jingyun bit her, again on the shoulder, viciously, with considerable force. “In storybooks, servants who know too many secrets are always the ones who get silenced.”

Huayue winced with the pain but didn’t pull away, only saying, “That’s for foolish servants who know too much. A clever servant ties her own life to her secrets — before a master lays a hand on her, he’ll have to think carefully about whether it’s worth taking a servant down with him.”

He truly had no way to deal with this woman. He’d only meant to get her to open up and tell the truth — something he could help with, would help with — but somehow, in the course of talking, it had turned into her threatening to drag him down with her.

Releasing her, Li Jingyun rubbed his temples, his head aching.

When did a young woman suddenly become so hard to control, so hard to manage at all?

When the Imperial Guard withdrew from the estate, he took this question to Wen Guzhi, the one who understood people’s hearts best.

Wen Guzhi, leading his horse, answered while walking, “Naturally, it’s when a woman has once been moved by someone, but no longer is.”

A woman whose heart is moved is the easiest to manage — whatever you say, as long as it comes from your mouth, she’ll believe it. But once she takes her heart back, that’s when you find she’s become impossible to fool, clever enough to be a strategist for an entire nation.

Swinging up onto his horse, Wen Guzhi turned back, puzzled. “Third young master, is there really a woman in this world you can’t handle?”

“There isn’t,” Li Jingyun said, turning his head away, his voice muffled. “Just asking, is all.”

Wen Guzhi glanced meaningfully toward Yin Huayue walking toward them from a distance, smiled, but didn’t call him out on it, only waved a hand before spurring his horse to catch up with the Imperial Guard heading back to the palace.

“Young master.” Huayue walked to his side. “The carriage is ready. When shall we return to the estate?”

Li Jingyun gazed at the trail of dust kicked up by the procession of carriages and horses, saying nothing for a long while.

This was absolutely not the time for matters of the heart, and he shouldn’t be spending his thoughts on such things.

—That was what his mind told him.

And yet, his heart curled up stubbornly, refusing to listen, leaving him uncomfortably stifled.

When did she start having feelings for him? Li Jingyun wondered.

The two of them had grown close, that much was true. She’d been good to him too, but with their coaxing and half-tricking on his part, and given her station, her kindness might not carry the meaning he wanted it to.

Perhaps the moment closest to real feeling was when she’d asked him whether he liked her?

But back then, her eyes had been full of wariness and suspicion, without a trace of shyness or anticipation, as if she were simply confirming what to have for lunch — calm and detached.

He hadn’t been able to answer then, and hadn’t wanted to.

What about other times? He quickly ran through his memories, and all he could recall were moments of himself holding her, kissing her — as for Yin Huayue herself, as long as she was conscious and clear-headed, she’d never once initiated anything with him.

His brow furrowed, and Li Jingyun said with considerable irritation, “Let’s head back now. This one is going to take leave of the Crown Prince and the Fifth Prince.”

Huayue didn’t know why he’d grown displeased again, but given their less-than-pleasant exchange earlier, she decided not to provoke him further, obediently waiting for him to finish his farewells before following him into the carriage back to the estate.

After returning to the estate, Huayue went to the main courtyard to pay her respects, while Li Jingyun entered the east courtyard’s main gate alone.

“Young master must be exhausted,” Badou greeted him. “Fresh tea’s already brewing in the main room.”

He nodded but didn’t head to the main room, instead turning toward the side chamber.

Yin Huayue usually slept in the main room, but she kept her own belongings in the side chamber. There wasn’t much — nothing particularly private either — so Badou often came in to clean and dust.

Seeing the young master suddenly enter this room, Badou grew curious, following in to wipe the dust from the doorframe, asking cautiously, “What is young master looking for?”

The furnishings were simple; a single glance took in everything in the room. Li Jingyun’s eyes fell on the stack of boxes piled beside the bed, doubt in his gaze.

“Those are from Baolai Pavilion, brought back before,” Badou explained helpfully. “The valuable pieces were all sent to the main courtyard. This pile is silk threads and fabric — Consort Yin used to fiddle with them often, but at some point she stopped, and they all just got piled up here.”

Li Jingyun walked over and opened the top box to look inside.

A pair of neatly finished shoe soles lay stacked inside, along with a half-embroidered shoe upper beside them — a black base with a beast pattern half-stitched in silver thread, the loose threads not yet trimmed, just left coiled there.

—Steward Yin, in your calculations of what to buy, is there any place for this one?

—”……”

—Ungrateful wretch, raised without gratitude.

—Han Shuang gave this one a South Sea jade cicada before. That red envelope of yours might not even measure up to something better.

These voices rang unbidden in his mind. Li Jingyun stared at this unfinished pair of shoes, and suddenly found himself wanting to laugh.

He’d always spoken carelessly, forgetting his own words as soon as they left his mouth. He’d assumed she would forget too — but she hadn’t. She had, in fact, seriously considered giving him a better gift.

It was only that he seemed to have missed the chance.

A faint bitterness rose at the root of his tongue. Li Jingyun closed the box and turned to look out the window.

In the main courtyard.

Huayue lay draped over Madam Zhuang’s lap, the servants beside them having already withdrawn. She let Madam Zhuang stroke her hair, half-closing her eyes like an obedient cat.

“My lady,” she said quietly. “This servant saw Situ Feng today.”

The hand stroking her head froze. Madam Zhuang looked down at her in shock, fingers reaching flusteredly to touch her face.

“This servant is fine, and didn’t cry,” Huayue said, smiling faintly, pressing down her hand. “This servant just found it amusing — such a vicious man, and today, being escorted out under guard, there was already white hair at his temples.”

She tilted her head, looking rather puzzled. “It’s only been a few years — how could he already have white hair?”

Back then, when Situ Feng had rushed into the Great Wei’s forbidden palace to seize the top merit, driving a blade straight through her sister-in-law’s belly, he’d still been full of youthful vigor, his face glowing with health.

Thinking of her old friend, Huayue’s mouth curved into a smile once more.

Her sister-in-law had been a lovely young woman — unlike the tiresome Yin Ninghuai, she’d been lively and spirited, always dragging her along to climb walls and steal fruit.

Huayue had once asked her curiously, “Sister, why do we sneak these sour jujubes from the laundry office instead of eating the fine tribute fruit? Ugh, this is really sour.”

Her sister-in-law had covered her mouth mysteriously and told her, “Because I’m pregnant, silly. Sweet fruit doesn’t taste good right now — sour is the best.”

Startled enough to swallow the pit whole, Huayue had stared, wide-eyed, patting her chest. “Pregnant and you haven’t told the imperial physician?”

“Shh—” The young woman before her had smiled slyly, then lowered her head a little, bashful. “I want to keep it secret for now, wait until your imperial brother comes back from Guan Mountain, so he can be the first to know.”

The jujube tree in the laundry office had been heavy with fruit, and the autumn wind carried its fragrance. Her sister-in-law had sat beneath the tree, spitting out jujube pits while counting on her fingers with a smile. “I want to give him a beautiful child — plump and fair, and when they grow up, they’ll be just as caring as he is…”

A sharp blade, with a piercing sound, had torn through the scene. Between the light and shadow, a great gash had split open, and bright red blood had come gushing out like a spring, staining the jujube tree and her sister-in-law’s smiling face.

Huayue, lying across Madam Zhuang’s lap, felt an uncontrollable spasm run from her chest up through her throat.

“There, there, my girl.” Madam Zhuang held her tightly, stroking her back again and again, her voice anxious yet gentled with effort, coaxing her softly. “Don’t think about it anymore. It’s all in the past.”

The person in her arms trembled in a tight knot, a hoarse, hollow sound escaping her throat.

Madam Zhuang’s heart ached terribly, her own eyes reddening. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. He will.”

Heaven’s will had never been fair to her — how could it ever bring her enemy to justice? That was hatred she would have to settle herself.

After choking back tears for a good while, Huayue gradually calmed, wiped her face, and looked up to smile at Madam Zhuang again. “At today’s banquet for the Fifth Prince, young master thought of you too — he had this servant bring you a gold hairpin with a full-fortune design. This servant had Shuangjiang put it away for you — you can wear it tomorrow.”

Madam Zhuang lowered her eyes, stroking the hair at Huayue’s temple. “You’re a good child.”

“It’s a gift from young master — why should this servant get all the praise for it?” She shook Madam Zhuang’s hand playfully. “Praise him too, so this servant has something nice to report back and please him.”

Madam Zhuang smiled faintly, thought for a long while, and said, “Just praise his taste, then.”

Good taste in hairpins — and in people too.

Huayue agreed, hugging her and acting spoiled for a good while longer before reluctantly returning to the east courtyard.

Today had been quite the exhausting day. Huayue had assumed Li Jingyun would go to bed early, but instead, this man announced he wanted to bathe, so she had no choice but to have water brought up and set up the screen in the main room.

Previously, whenever Li Jingyun bathed, he would always have her step out, so this time, after hanging up his robes and towels, she was about to withdraw as usual.

Instead, he suddenly spoke. “Do you believe this one can wash his own back cleaner than his own face?”

Huayue froze, instinctively shaking her head.

“Don’t believe it, and yet you won’t come help?” He shot her an unimpressed look and undid the ties of his inner robe.

Having grown used to his banter and teasing, Huayue had almost forgotten he was a military man. Only when his robes fell away and she saw the taut, defined lines of his body did she suddenly remember his image astride a horse, blade in hand.

Her face grew hot, and she turned away.

The sound of him entering the water came from behind the screen. Huayue pressed her lips together, eyes forward and mind composed, and went in to hand him a towel by the tub.

Li Jingyun looked up at her, the ink-black in his eyes softened by the rising steam, taking on an inexplicable, hazy vagueness. He took the item and set it aside, then slowly extended his hand toward her.

Huayue understood and picked up the bath powder to apply for him, but her gaze fell on his arm, and she froze.

She’d once stitched up a wound for him before — nothing unusual about a healed scar. But beside that wound now, there were three or four more marks of similar shape, crisscrossing horizontally and vertically, stretching across his bulging arm muscle.

Following the marks upward, she saw they weren’t limited to his arm — his shoulders and back bore traces too, deep and shallow, long and short, some old and some new.

“…”

Training-ground weapons were mostly blunted, and even if one was accidentally injured, it would never result in wounds like this. Huayue stared at him in shock, opening her mouth to ask, then slowly closing it again.

He wouldn’t answer.

His hand, growing a bit sore from holding it out, Li Jingyun withdrew it with a soft hum, brushing the water’s surface. “The Li family has served as military generals for generations — our food, clothing, and daily expenses are all kept quite frugal. You handle the accounts — have you never wondered about the household expenses in this one’s own courtyard?”

Many of the furnishings and decorative pieces weren’t things his monthly allowance from the household could possibly afford. She’d known this from the start but had never asked, not wanting to entangle herself in unnecessary trouble.

After a moment’s thought, Huayue said teasingly, “If this servant asks, will young master answer?”

“I will.” He nodded seriously.

Her amber pupils contracted slightly. She looked up, and in her clear eyes reflected his sharply defined face.

Li Jingyun gazed at her without blinking, past the swirling, rising mist, past the flickering candlelight on the table, looking deeply into her eyes.

“I’ll give you the chance,” he said in a low voice. “Ask again.”