The figure had already reached the bridge’s end and was approaching at an unhurried pace.

Yang Shiyue’s appearance was somewhat disheveled, yet she could not but receive him. After a brief moment’s thought, she simply removed all her hair ornaments, letting the dark hair fall in a cascade, and quickly gathered it up with a single jade hairpin into a plain bun. In her haste, she could not be sure how many strands had fallen loose.

Then she returned to her seat at the tea table, and using the table to conceal the water-dampened sleeves and skirt hem, she said: “Matron Chen, please go to the bridge’s end and wait.”

“Yes, Miss.”

She had not yet fully recovered from what had just happened, and now, with thoughts of the imminent meeting swirling through her mind, her heart was pounding wildly — and in an instant, all the things she had prepared to say, all the topics she had planned to discuss, were swept clean from her memory.

Before there was time to think further, footsteps could already be heard approaching along the riverside gallery outside, then stopping at the door.

The water had soaked her clothing, and Yang Shiyue could not conveniently rise to open the door and welcome him — the door to the residence was left half ajar. She felt a pang of regret, thinking that having failed to receive him with proper courtesy, the first impression she had made would surely have fallen short.

Regret aside, she bore him no ill will for it.

A river breeze swept across his face, carrying a touch of cool night air that dispersed the clamor of the Lantern Festival gathering. Pei Shaohuai’s heart was calm; after leaving Fanyuan Garden, he had walked here at an unhurried pace, with a certain sense of “coming to complete a task.”

Yet when he stepped onto the riverside gallery and heard the water flowing beneath the walkway, and truly stood before the door — he found himself hesitating. He paused for a few breaths before raising his hand and knocking.

“Please come in, Master Pei.” Her voice was warm and gentle.

He extended a wide-sleeved hand and gave the door a light push, stepping inside.

Pei Shaohuai followed the candlelight with his gaze, and met Yang Shiyue’s eyes — eyes that held anticipation, curiosity, shyness, and then a quick avoidance. Being the older one, he took the initiative and gave her a smile, to ease the atmosphere and spare the young woman too much anxiety.

It was only a meeting to take a look at each other. Pei Shaohuai offered a bow in greeting.

After Yang Shiyue rose to return the courtesy, she quickly sat back down to conceal what lay beneath, and said: “Please be seated, Master Pei.”

By the candlelight, Pei Shaohuai took in Yang Shiyue’s features clearly: a delicate pair of brows, a face of graceful fullness — most captivating were those almond-shaped eyes, their outer corners slightly upturned, with a soft, faintly warm hue surrounding them; alluring yet not coquettish. When she had risen to return his bow, her figure had been tall and gracefully slender.

Pei Shaohuai was a perceptive man, and with the added discernment of his past life’s experience, how could the arrangements of the room and Yang Shiyue’s small gestures escape his notice?

The delicate jasmine-tea fragrance in the room, the tea cups on the table, the laid-out paper, the half-ground inkstone, the half-concealed wine jar and exquisite small delicacies in the wall cabinet, the bright moon over the river outside the window, the moored boats, the beauty of the moment — all had been arranged to provide topics of gentle conversation for this meeting, a display of warmth that was also self-contained.

Her garments were newly made — in the swaying candlelight, the faint glimmer of same-colored silk embroidery in a subtle pattern was just barely perceptible, lending her an additional touch of elegance.

All this thoughtfulness, all these small “intentions” — even this “uncle” of hers could not but take the matter seriously — for regardless of whether it led to anything, and regardless of whether they were fated, this young woman had come with wholehearted sincerity.

These preparations had revealed the inclinations of her heart, and yet they were graceful and restrained, never putting anyone in an awkward position — respectful of him, and respectful of herself.

At this thought, Pei Shaohuai felt both a touch of self-reproach and a silent amusement — he was truly embarrassed. Miss Yang was clearly already far more mature and composed than most of her peers; she conducted herself with restraint and left no obvious traces. Yet she had encountered him, and he had seen through it all.

He was the one taking advantage.

And yet this person who was thorough in every detail had arranged her hair in a loose, casual bun secured with only a single jade hairpin, letting a few strands fall loose at her temples. Her clothes appeared to have been dampened by water, which she was deliberately concealing behind the tea table.

This seemed inconsistent.

Had something not occurred in the interim, someone of Miss Yang’s careful and meticulous nature would certainly have made immediate repairs. Why had she not?

Pei Shaohuai’s first thought turned to the woman he had passed on the way here, hurrying along with a soaking-wet child wrapped in her arms — and the as-yet-undried water stains on the riverside gallery.

The cloak wrapped around the child had not looked like something from an ordinary household.

Piecing together these small details, Pei Shaohuai had already formed a picture that was perhaps seventy or eighty percent accurate. If his inference was correct, the woman before him deserved to be admired.

“Please have some tea, Master Pei.” By this time, the expression on Yang Shiyue’s face had grown considerably more composed.

The two of them conversed with proper courtesy, exchanging pleasantries — speaking of what books each of them read on ordinary days, what thoughts a particular passage had inspired, and so forth; nothing that touched on private matters.

Pei Shaohuai admired Yang Shiyue’s character and conduct, yet even as they talked, he could not shake free of his own sense of being set apart — it felt more like an easy chat between old acquaintances over books than anything else.

After a quarter of an hour, through their conversation, Yang Shiyue’s eyes had taken on a luminous glow, and her admiration for the young master before her had grown steadily deeper — it was a quality that welled up from within, constant and unhurried.

And yet, to Yang Shiyue’s eyes, though Master Pei had answered her attentively throughout, those calm, untroubled eyes of his had conveyed nothing more than courtesy and refinement — not the slightest hint of any closer or warmer intention.

Slowly, the light in her eyes began to fade.

And so, after one cup of tea, the wall cabinet remained unopened, the paper went untouched by ink, and the half-ground ink in the inkstone was left to slowly dry in the evening breeze.

“Speaking with Master Pei today has been most illuminating.” Yang Shiyue brought the conversation to a close and said: “The poetry gathering is still underway at Fanyuan Garden — will Master Pei not go and take a look?”

Pei Shaohuai understood her meaning. He paused for a moment, then rose and took his leave with a bow, saying at last: “I thank Miss Yang for her kind hospitality — I shall take my leave now. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

They parted — both knowing there would be no meeting again.

Walking out of the small residence, Pei Shaohuai made his way along the riverside gallery and looked up to see the full moon hanging high, the river surface gleaming and shimmering with its light. He recalled the line: “This life, this night — so rarely does beauty last; the bright moon — where shall it be seen come another year?” and something inside him began, without his awareness, to shift.

Such beautiful scenery, such rare good fortune — why should he keep clinging to the walls of his past life, constraining himself? Reborn into this world by such rare luck — was it not precisely so that he could live without regret, as a son, as a husband, as a father?

He was not unmoved by Miss Yang’s talent, character, and bearing — he had only been conducting himself as though unmoved. And in this very moment, the lake of his heart, which had long lain without a ripple, had a small stone dropped into it, and fine, delicate rings of ripple began to spread.

Pei Shaohuai suddenly understood something clearly — a man like him, who had lived two lifetimes, could hardly be swept away by grand, tumultuous feeling again. In this life, there would likely only ever be this one chance — and yet here was someone who could still stir a ripple in him.

He was clearly a man of the “uncle generation” in his mind — how was it that when it came to taking the initiative, he was still outpaced by this young woman? He ought to have shown more warmth and openness, been more proactive — he should have asked her for a chance.

In the end, the sound of a knock came again. Pei Shaohuai said: “Just now, I noticed Miss Yang had left half a verse on the paper — only the lower section had been written, and the upper section was still missing. I, unworthy as I am, would like to try completing the full verse — and in doing so, ask Miss Yang for the opportunity.”

Inside the room, several breaths of silence passed. Then the door gave a soft creak as Yang Shiyue — no longer concealing her water-dampened skirts — came forward and opened it, saying: “Master Pei, please come in.”

At the writing table, the paper lay spread flat, and written in neat, graceful small script were the words:

“A figure lingers, a shadow lingers, the waters stretch on and on. A dream crosses the river’s head, through mist and waves — a lingering fragrance.”

Hesitant yet eager — the heart’s state laid bare upon the page.

Pei Shaohuai took up the brush, his wide sleeve lightly supported with his left hand, and stood at the writing table in thoughtful contemplation — this was the posture most likely to draw the eye.

Yang Shiyue ground the ink carefully, producing a faint, steady rasping sound.

After dipping the brush, Pei Shaohuai stood upright, bent slightly forward, and with a turn of the wrist wrote in the upper space left on the paper:

“Upon the Huai River, boats rest and the air turns cool; the night grows long. Beneath some eave, a star-lantern — the moon knocks at the window.”

Then, at the very top, he wrote the name of the melody.

The complete verse read:

“Moon Over Guazhou”

Upon the Huai River, boats rest and the air turns cool; the night grows long. Beneath some eave, a star-lantern — the moon knocks at the window. A figure lingers, a shadow lingers, the waters stretch on and on. A dream crosses the river’s head, through mist and waves — a lingering fragrance.

Yang Shiyue read it aloud in a soft voice, and before she had finished, color had already risen to her cheeks. Her gaze lingered on the words “Upon the Huai River… the moon knocks at the window.”

If her lower section had captured the inner world of a young woman, then Pei Shaohuai had helped complete the scene’s full atmosphere — a long night on the riverside, gazing at the bright moon, the poetry serene and quietly beautiful.

Pei Shaohuai’s learning and talent were truly exceptional.

The melody name “Moon Over Guazhou” also went by the name “Joy of Reunion.”

At this moment, silence spoke more eloquently than words. Both understood the other’s heart.

Pei Shaohuai said with a touch of self-reproach: “On our first meeting, I came in a worn robe — I lacked sincerity, and I hope Miss Yang will forgive me.” His lack of sincerity had not been confined to this alone.

Yang Shiyue replied: “Master Pei’s wealth of learning is the greatest sincerity of all.”

A man establishes himself, and then his household.

When the Fanyuan poetry gathering concluded, Miss Lu of the Lu Family, by virtue of her remarkable talent, had received great praise for her compositions. In particular, the line “Over the water, cloud-rippled waves, a pair of wild geese pass; river and sky one hue, the road stretches far” gave much room for reflection.

She had written of a pair of wild geese, and woven her own name subtly into the verse — the talented young man who had won this talented woman’s regard seemed to bear a connection to river waters.

That night, Pei Shaohuai returned home — and found he could not sleep.

The following morning, Lin Shi found a subtle way to ask about the “chance encounter” of the previous night over breakfast.

Pei Shaohuai had not slept all night, and the impulse that had surged in him the night before, combined with his youthful constitution, was now impossible to suppress — he actually felt the tips of his ears go red right there in front of his mother.

Lin Shi understood her son’s heart, and said with a smile: “Your mother will go and give the Yang Family an answer.”

Pei Shaohuai drank his porridge in large gulps.

After breakfast, Pei Shaohuai raised the subject of the previous night’s poetry gathering and reminded his mother: “While Father is still in the capital, we ought to call on the Lu Family as well.”

Goodness — two marriage matters at once. Lin Shi was momentarily taken aback and said: “I understand — you just concentrate on your studies and exam preparation.”

Lin Shi had a pair of fish-shaped jade pendants made, and after sending them to the Yang Family as their reply, several days later the Yang Family sent back a glass lantern — conveying the wish that it would illuminate the road ahead for Shaohuai.

Both families were of one mind — they would wait until Shaohuai had passed the spring examinations, and then proceed with the formal rites of betrothal and courtship to settle the marriage.

There was another party who had also expressed interest in a match with the Yang Family — the Pei Minister’s Mansion. What was strange, however, was that the Pei Minister was seeking a marriage not for Miss Yang Shiyue herself, but for an unremarkable concubine-born daughter from a branch of the Yang Family.

By the Pei Minister’s rank, and with Pei Shaowei holding the degree of a graduate of the provincial examination, the Yang Family had no reason whatsoever to refuse — yet refuse they did, offering the polite explanation that the young woman in question was already promised to another. It was plain they had no wish to form ties with the Pei Minister’s Mansion.

What was stranger still was that the Pei Minister’s Mansion, with its usual temperament, showed no sign of anger. The matter simply passed.

The Pei Minister had already reached the age for retirement, yet the Emperor had issued a decree permitting him to remain in his post. Pei Shaohuai had heard from Senior Xu that over the past year, the Pei Minister had been extremely diligent in his duties at court — that man who had once been so devoted to cultivating connections with the powerful and navigating all situations with ease seemed now to care not in the least about making enemies. Together with the entire Ministry of Personnel, he had been compiling regulations and imposing restrictions on the nobility’s acquisition of land; he had also been leading the Censorate’s officials in inspections everywhere, offering forthright counsel and speaking plainly without reservation.

His memorials had even impeached grand secretaries in the inner cabinet.

In a single year, he had made more enemies than in all his previous decades in the capital combined.

Reflecting on the fact that the Yang Family’s court appointments were largely connected with judicial and judicial review institutions, Pei Shaohuai felt a growing suspicion stir within him — the Pei Minister’s proposal to the Yang Family had very likely not been made with any genuine intention of arranging a marriage, but rather as a way of probing the Yang Family’s stance, and from there deducing further intelligence about what lay behind the scenes.

And the Pei Minister’s change of character — that unbending, iron-headed role as the Emperor’s instrument, making enemies left and right — was, contrary to all appearances, a means of self-preservation.

This great-uncle of the second branch was by no means a simple man. His present relentless, exhausting efforts spoke clearly: the Pei Minister’s Mansion had already become entangled in a major case.

The old man was fighting for his life.