The feeling was terrible, but fortunately, having experienced plenty in her life, Su Miao didn’t dwell on it too much. She stood there feeling upset for a while, then pulled off the pearl at her waist and went into a nearby pawnshop, exchanging it for several dozen taels of silver.

Keeping aside enough for a night’s lodging, she tucked the rest away and headed for a tavern, ordering a pot of good wine and leaning by the window, sipping it slowly.

She had been born with a pair of fox-like eyes, their corners naturally alluring—even standing perfectly still without smiling, men still came sidling up with the question, “Miss, all alone?”

“Not quite—there are two of us,” she’d say, laughing, pointing across from herself. “This is my father. He’s been buried some years now, but today he finally managed to come out and taste a bit of the mortal world. Would you care to sit and chat with him?”

The man would follow her pointing finger, only to see an empty stool, and his expression would change at once. “M-my apologies for the disturbance—I’ll take my leave!”

They came with lecherous intent and scrambled away in a panic, watching which left Su Miao giggling with delight.

Before long, another man approached—this one bolder, sitting directly across from her. Half a pot of wine down, Su Miao looked up, cheeks faintly flushed. “Hey, you’re sitting on my father.”

Huo Geng stared at her steadily, wanting to steady her swaying posture but holding back out of propriety, only extending his hand uselessly. “Your father is quite hospitable—he waved me over to the window just now, but he’s already left. He asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Su Miao blinked, then laughed. “Lord Huo really is impressive.”

Not even earning a laugh for the compliment, Huo Geng frowned. “Why are you drinking in a place like this?”

Noisy and crowded, full of men everywhere—given who she was, none of it seemed appropriate.

Pulling out her coin purse, Su Miao swayed as she opened it to show him. “This is for lodging, this is for food, and see, this little bit left is for drinking—so I can only drink here.”

Not even able to laugh at the compliment she’d just given him, Huo Geng only felt, looking at her, as though the world before his eyes had turned to rippling mountains and rivers, sunlight falling everywhere, spring color filling the garden.

The other drinkers around them were all looking their way. He lowered his eyes awkwardly and said quietly, “Allow me to treat you—shall we go somewhere better lit to drink?”

That sounded good. Su Miao clapped her hands. “How about you settle the bill here too while you’re at it?”

“Fine.” Huo Geng stood, wanting to help her up but pulling his hand back, watching with a frown as she stumbled to her feet on her own and followed him.

The Grand Astrologer’s household could never lack for money—yet judging by her manner, it seemed she intended to live off just this coin purse for the rest of her life. Huo Geng couldn’t help asking, “When do you plan to go home?”

Her embroidered shoe caught briefly. Su Miao looked up, her half-drunk fox eyes full of blankness.

Huo Geng understood then—this was most likely someone who’d quarreled with the Grand Astrologer and run off on her own. So he stopped asking and led her to a quiet, secluded pavilion, ordering several pots of good wine for her to drink her fill.

Su Miao was an open sort of person—once drunk enough, she’d tell people things word by word. “The first time I met Shen Zhiluo, oh, he really was a stunning sight—his brows and eyes seemed to hold mountain moonlight and clear breezes, endless stars in the sky. Back then he still knew propriety too—I tripped and fell, and he helped me up, even asked if it hurt.”

No one had asked her that since she was small. Her cousin used to take her out to play, and once they’d both fallen into a ditch together—her leg got a long gash, but everyone in the household fussed over her cousin while she limped back to her own courtyard alone to find Muyu and pour wine over the wound to clean it.

That time she met Shen Zhiluo, she’d simply been dazed, staring at how good-looking he was, not paying attention and tripping over the threshold. It hadn’t been a serious fall, but he’d asked her that one question all the same.

Just those few words, and she’d carried him in her heart ever since.

“That’s exactly why they say you have to pamper a daughter properly—a moth that’s never seen the world will mistake a single candle flame for the moon,” Su Miao lectured Huo Geng earnestly. “When you have a daughter someday, dote on her well, so she won’t grow up and be easily swept away by anyone.”

Huo Geng’s face flushed slightly. He lowered his eyes. “I’m not yet married.”

Su Miao paused, then gave an embarrassed cupped-hand bow. “Touched a sore spot, sorry about that.”

Unmarried at his age—that was rather a sore point indeed, but that wasn’t what she’d actually touched on. Huo Geng pressed his lips together, saying quietly, “There are countless people in this world who would say those three words. That you married the Grand Astrologer must have been for some other reason.”

Su Miao gave a scoffing laugh. “He was the first one to say it. That’s the only reason, nothing more.”

Huo Geng: “…”

“What do you mean by that look.” Seeing his expression, Su Miao raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

“That’s not it.” Huo Geng closed his eyes, his voice rather bitter. “I just think—the right time, the right place, the right people—perhaps everything in this world truly is fated.”

Mystical nonsense, just like Shen Zhiluo—unappealing. Su Miao shook her head, resting her chin on the table, fox eyes sweeping toward the world outside.

Shen Zhiluo was someone who knew fate. He’d said their marriage would come to no good end—and if he’d said it, it probably really would happen that way. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him, only that she didn’t want to hear it. She’d prepared herself before marrying him, but she hadn’t expected him to be so ruthless as to deny her even the chance of motherhood.

Why so absolute? Even if he didn’t want children now, what if she remarried someday—couldn’t he have left her a bit more of a path forward?

She drank down a mouthful of wine, half of it spilling onto the table, splattering a few bright droplets.

The sun setting in the west, Su Miao gave a huge yawn, her eyelids drooping. Huo Geng sat about half a zhang away from her, firmly holding to propriety.

Evening glow filtered through the flower-latticed window, falling like a thin brocade across her back. Su Miao drifted off to sleep in a daze, her thick lashes falling closed, dyed a light brown by the illuminated glow. The corners of her eyes tilted slightly upward, and even closed, they carried a hint of coquettish charm.

Huo Geng watched quietly, even his breathing kept extremely light.

He felt some fortune at having encountered her today—otherwise, given this young lady’s temperament, who knew what might have happened. And yet, he also felt sorrow at having met her—the person he thought of day and night was right before him, and all he could do was look. Look at her laugh, look at her cry. Her joys and sorrows had nothing to do with him.

His chest burning, Huo Geng hesitated, then stood and took two steps toward her.

In his dreams, this person always ran—no matter how he chased, he could never catch up. But right now she wasn’t running, only quietly resting against the table, as though waiting for him.

He truly had no improper intentions—he only wanted to stand a little closer to her. He untied his cloak to drape over her, worried she’d catch a chill from the wine.

But just as his hand, holding the cloak, settled onto her shoulder, the door of the side chamber behind them suddenly banged open.

Huo Geng startled, his hand still resting on her shoulder, not having time to withdraw it, before his collar was suddenly seized from behind.

Shen Zhiluo seemed to have just rushed over from somewhere, his breathing unsteady. He pulled Huo Geng away with a dark expression, glancing at the figure slumped over the table, his pale purple eyes full of fury.

“…Grand Astrologer.” Huo Geng came back to himself, hastily bowing in greeting.

Shen Zhiluo entered, reaching out to pat Su Miao’s face. Seeing no sign of her waking, he glanced at the wine pot beside her.

“My lady drank too much and fell asleep,” Huo Geng explained quietly. “This one saw the lady walking alone outside and thought it improper, so brought her here.”

As he spoke, he too felt a pang of sympathy, and couldn’t help adding, “The lady seems quite troubled. Since you’re already married to her, my lord, perhaps you might treat her better.”

Shen Zhiluo looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “The matters between my wife and me—since when does an outsider like you get to comment?”

“This one has overstepped.” Huo Geng lowered his head.

She still had someone else’s cloak draped over her. Shen Zhiluo’s anger flared, and he reached to yank it off, only for Su Miao, still half-asleep, to press it down instead, mumbling irritably, “Cold.”

“You know it’s cold and you still ran out here?” he said through gritted teeth. “Already someone’s wife and still don’t know to stay indoors where it’s safe. Serves you right to freeze.”

His voice rose somewhat, and Su Miao woke up, looking up with a frown. “I had a father who raised me but no mother to teach me—where would I have learned all these rules about staying safe and proper?”

Blocked by her retort, Shen Zhiluo turned his head away. “Let go.”

“I won’t.” Her cheeks flushed red, her eyes red too, she shouted at him drunkenly. “Don’t you think I’ll ever listen to you again!”

Huo Geng still stood off to the side. Shen Zhiluo had no patience left to argue with her—he simply scooped her up sideways and carried her out, tucking her against himself.

“My lord?” Huo Geng followed a couple steps behind, but Shen Zhiluo ignored him, carrying her straight out and into a carriage.

“If anyone else had come across you behaving this way today, it would be grounds for divorce under the Seven Outs.” Sitting beside her, Shen Zhiluo said darkly, “Is it because you rely on the Crown Prince having arranged this marriage, thinking I wouldn’t dare cast you aside easily, that you act so recklessly?”

Wrapped in the cloak, Su Miao sat in the corner like a little fool. Hearing this, she stared blankly at him for a moment, then laughed. “You can divorce me. I have nothing to do with the General’s residence anymore anyway—if you write the divorce papers, the Crown Prince won’t blame you for it.”

Shen Zhiluo didn’t know about this yet. Hearing it, he first assumed she was joking, and said coldly, “Married only a few months and already thinking about divorce papers. Then again, wherever Miss Su goes, people flock to her—plenty would want to marry you, even as a second marriage.”

Remembering the way Huo Geng had looked at her, he lowered his eyes, something in his chest inexplicably cutting through him.

To be human was to have desire, anger, and attachment—things that belonged to him, he didn’t want others touching, didn’t even want others coveting. Shen Zhiluo had thought himself somewhat more detached than ordinary mortals, but it turned out he was just the same. Over this small matter today, he’d actually felt a flicker of murderous intent.

Su Miao tilted her head, listening lazily to his words, and the corner of her mouth curved into a brilliant smile. “That’s right, no need to worry about a second marriage—so why do you keep coming to find me? Just wait for the invitation.”

That she could still say something like that—Shen Zhiluo ground his teeth. “What is your heart made of?”

“Stone. The kind used for tabletop corners by the roadside, hard and unpolished.” Su Miao’s eyes curved with laughter. “Angry? Good, be furious then. I’m not angry at all, anyway.”

She tugged at the annoying cloak, wrapping herself into a tight bundle.

Shen Zhiluo pressed his fingers to his temple, genuinely thinking for a moment that it might be better to just give her the divorce papers—release her, and release himself too.

But then he heard a faint stirring from within that bundled shape, suppressed beneath an affected cough, extremely light and faint.

His fingertips curled slightly. Shen Zhiluo frowned and pulled her fully into his arms, lowering his head to look.

She had pulled the cloak up over her head, hiding like a turtle refusing to show its face. But held against him, he could hear it clearly enough.

She was crying.

Realizing this, Shen Zhiluo felt at a loss. He rarely saw her cry—she was always the one laughing without a care, as though nothing in this world was difficult, as though nothing could weigh on her heart. Even when he flared into a rage, she could still stand before him and smile.

And yet this very person was now hiding to cry.

Something indescribable stirred in his chest, and Shen Zhiluo’s brow furrowed into a knot.

“I.” He pressed his lips together, somewhat vexed. “It’s not as though I went out drinking with someone else.”

Clearly it was she who’d smashed things and quarreled with him at the slightest disagreement, storming off without even bringing a maid along. He’d searched for ages, finally tracking her down through the teahouse, rushing over without even finishing dinner to fetch her back—and here she was, refusing to take off someone else’s cloak, and crying on top of it.

Were all women this unreasonable?

The figure in his arms didn’t respond to him, crying quietly to herself for a while. Just a moment, though—she wiped her face dry, lifted the cloak, and looked up at him. “Weren’t you going to write the divorce papers? Let’s go back and write them, I’ll grind the ink, you write it up and give it to me.”

Shen Zhiluo: “…”

The two of them were a consummated couple—shared pillows and curtains, physical intimacy between them, passionate nights too. Even if there had been some measure of pretense in it, they had, after all, pledged themselves to each other for life. How was it that hearing it from her mouth, it sounded like some fleeting affair dissolved overnight?

“You’re drunk.” He said gruffly. “We’ll talk again once you’ve sobered up.”

“No, I’m not drunk.” Su Miao reached out, lightly pressing a finger to his chin. “Wine doesn’t actually make people drunk. Truly intoxicating wine puts you to sleep the moment you drink it—only people who are already drunk on their own keep talking.”

Her gaze wavering, she smiled. “Like last time—when you pushed me and I bumped my forehead, I was pretending to be drunk that time too. I was actually holding a grudge in my heart the whole time.”

His grip on her shoulder tightened. Shen Zhiluo turned his head away and didn’t respond.

The figure in his arms clapped her hands. “That settles it then. I’m still a bit sleepy—once we’re back at the residence, wake me up, and I’ll take the divorce papers and go.”

With that, she pushed him away, curling back into her small corner of the carriage and closing her eyes.

His palm empty, his arms suddenly cold too, Shen Zhiluo slowly drew his sleeves in, smoothing the scattered starlight pattern on his robe. His face showed no discernible emotion; he sat with his hands on his knees, like a statue beside an altar.

The carriage stopped at the Shen residence. Shen Zhiluo was silent for a long while before finally, gently and carefully, carrying her down from the carriage.

The gatekeeper, watching from a distance, was somewhat surprised—it had been so long, and this was the first time his master had carried his wife home himself, moving with such steadiness and care, not even a footstep audible.

Curious, he stepped forward to ask, “My lord, shall I have dinner prepared below?”

The gatekeeper’s voice was loud, startling Su Miao awake with a jolt from her dream, her eyes flying open.

The gatekeeper smiled, about to lead the way, only to turn and see his master’s face dark as storm clouds before rain, glaring at him coldly.

What had happened? The gatekeeper felt wronged, but under that gaze, his very nerve trembled—he couldn’t even stand steady and hastily backed away.

Shen Zhiluo closed his eyes.

Looking around in confusion at the person carrying her, Su Miao grabbed his arm and jumped down, smoothing her skirt and releasing his hand. “We’re here.”

“Have you had dinner?” Shen Zhiluo asked.

Su Miao waved her hand generously. “No, but no need—I still have quite a few boxes of dowry items. I’ll take the divorce papers and go find something good to eat.”

“…”

He said nothing, striding in through the gate and instructing the servants to prepare dinner.

Su Miao went straight to the study, laying out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone for him, gathering her sleeve and forming a delicate orchid-finger gesture. “This way, my lord.”

With her so eager, Shen Zhiluo couldn’t very well say anything soft. He kept his expression stern and walked over to pick up the brush, then paused.

“What, don’t know how to write a divorce paper?” Su Miao teased. “Even the Grand Astrologer has things he doesn’t know how to do?”

“It’s my first time, after all.” Shen Zhiluo looked up, expressionless. “Do you know how it’s written?”

Nonsense—who wasn’t doing it for the first time? Su Miao pouted, thinking it over. “Just write a couple lines casually. Press our thumbprints on it and it’s done.”

“Do you know that once this divorce paper is written, you’ll be a divorced woman, someone people will gossip about behind your back?” he asked.

“I’ve had plenty of gossip behind my back already. This won’t be anything new.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Write it.”

Nothing more to say, Shen Zhiluo wrote a couple of lines casually, pressed his thumbprint alongside hers, then stood and left, his expression cold.

“Miss!”

Muyu came running at the news, tears welling in her eyes, grabbing at her sleeve. “What is this you’re doing? Things were going along just fine—you left the General’s residence for him, how could you take this divorce paper!”

The smell of wine still lingering on her, Su Miao took her by the shoulder and led her back to pack up her things, saying with something between amusement and bitterness, “It’s precisely because I even left the General’s residence that I can’t reconcile myself to this.”

This didn’t quite make sense to her, and Muyu shook her head repeatedly. “The young master surely can’t bear to part with you—give him a chance to back down and he probably will. Why insist on the divorce papers?”

“You don’t understand.” Su Miao tapped her nose. “Little one, something you like—you can chase it for a while, but not for a lifetime. That’s too bitter. If you rest partway and that person doesn’t wait for you, then stop chasing. Save your own strength and live your days—that’s fine too.”

This truly was hard to understand, and Muyu kept shaking her head.

The household had already prepared dinner, seemingly with some of her favorite dishes—the aroma drifted over from every direction, making Su Miao’s mouth water. Just as she was steadying herself to decline this… temptation, Shen Zhiluo returned.

“The kitchen didn’t know you were leaving today, they made too much. Eat before you go.” He sat down coldly at the table in her room, watching the servants bring the dishes in, his tone unkind. “Eat and then leave, don’t dawdle.”

Since he’d already said as much, Su Miao didn’t bother being overly polite either, sitting down to drink some soup to settle her stomach before eating heartily.

She’d drunk far too much wine today, her stomach beginning to ache. Eating something to settle it would keep her from feeling unwell on the road.

Full and satisfied, drowsiness set in. Su Miao stood, her legs weak, and, leaning on Muyu, managed to bow to him. “Thank you.”

Shen Zhiluo looked at her coldly. “If you’re sleepy, sleep first and go later. Your room’s a mess anyway—no one will be moving in.”

This was the softest thing that could come out of his mouth—a step down offered to her, in a way.

If it had been before, Su Miao would surely have said, “You can’t bear to part with me, is that it? Then I won’t go.”

But now, she shook her head, perfectly composed. “No need. We’re not husband and wife anymore. Staying here would just invite gossip.”

A vein rose at his temple. Shen Zhiluo gripped the compass in fury, thinking that she said such things without a shred of guilt—when had the eldest Miss Su, coming and going as she pleased, ever feared gossip?

Only that she couldn’t bear to stay with him even a moment longer.

Fine. Shen Zhiluo understood clearly enough—he had gone against the mandate of heaven, and there would be no good end for him in this life. Keeping her by his side forcibly would only drag her down with him. Better to set her free.

But watching her walk out, step by step, he still felt an irritation, worse even than when she’d first married in.

The sky had already darkened. A carriage and an ox cart for her dowry were prepared at the entrance. He simply had to not arrange an escort for her, and with all her large and small trunks in the night, something would surely go wrong, and she’d be forced to return.

But he found it humiliating—back then, he’d been the one forced into not wanting to marry her; now, if he were the one reluctant to let her go, that would be too low of him, truly played and toyed with in her palm.

And so the carriage wheels rolled, and Su Miao left after all, the procession of people slowly disappearing around the corner.

Withdrawing his gaze, Shen Zhiluo personally pulled the door cord, slowly closing the gates of the Shen residence.

Deep in the night, darkness surrounded everything.

Huayue couldn’t sleep. Wrapped in a cloak, she leaned against the windowsill, watching the moon.

Han Shuang was probably not going to survive, which was why Li Jingyun had been staying at the Han residence this whole time without returning. Huayue was content with the peace and quiet, simply gazing at that moon disc.

“My lady,” Shuang Jiang couldn’t help urging her, “you’ve already caught a chill, you just bathed in hot water—please don’t stand out here in the wind. If you fall ill tomorrow, no one in this household could account for it to the Third Young Master.”

Huayue shook her head, pointing toward the sky. “Do you see any difference between that moon and ours back in Great Wei?”

Startled, Shuang Jiang glanced around, saying cautiously, “No difference at all. Please don’t say such things.”

“It’s not that I want to say it—it’s that Nanny Yin and the others always feel Great Wei’s moon is rounder.” Huayue laughed softly. “I’m someone without much ambition. Whichever moon it is, so long as it’s beautiful, that’s enough for me.”

Shuang Jiang understood—she only wanted revenge on those particular people, not the kind of grand ambitions Yinru and the others held.

“Whatever moon, it looks the same. You’re not wrong.”

Gazing distantly at the moon hanging over the wall, Huayue sighed. “I never really looked at it carefully before, but now that I have, this Great Liang moon really is round too—you can almost see Wu Gang chopping the tree up there, see that dark shape? Doesn’t it look like it?”

Shuang Jiang glanced at it perfunctorily. “Yes, it does.”

Something seemed off from the corner of her eye. Shuang Jiang, puzzled, looked up again. “My lady, don’t you think that dark shape looks a bit too black?”

“It is.” Huayue nodded. “It doesn’t look like the moon’s shadow. It looks more like someone lying flat on our wall.”

After careful observation, Shuang Jiang’s expression changed. “My lady, it’s not ‘looks like’—someone really is lying on our wall.”

Huayue: “…”

In the dead of night, with just the two of them in the courtyard, Huayue almost instinctively grabbed the flower vase beside her.

“Sister-in-law, it’s me.” Before she could strike, Su Miao hurriedly jumped down from the wall.

Walking closer, her features grew clear in the candlelight. Huayue clutched her chest. “You scared me half to death.”

“Who knew you two would still be awake.” Su Miao shrugged. “I came to drop off some things. Traveling around, too many trunks isn’t convenient, and I have nowhere else to go—had to trouble you, sister-in-law.”

She’d fallen out with the General’s household last time, and it had been the talk of the capital lately. Huayue could understand the good intentions behind her climbing the wall, and simply asked, “Where are you headed?”

Su Miao rubbed her hands together, laughing. “First time being divorced, ought to celebrate by touring the whole capital.”

“The capital’s not that big to tour—wait a moment.”

Huayue frowned, asking in disbelief, “What do you mean, first time?”