The lantern festival was not yet over—the Lantern Festival viewing would continue until the eighteenth day of the first month before the lanterns were taken down.

Lu Tong passed through the crowd of performers and found a lantern mountain ahead.

It wasn’t really a lantern mountain—it was originally an entire small street with long lines strung overhead, adorned with countless flower lanterns made of silk and gauze. Each flower lantern had a small red strip hanging beneath it, with riddles written in black characters on the red strips. Those who guessed correctly could take down the strip and exchange it with an old man sitting to the side for a piece of silk candy.

It was prepared for children.

Those gauze lanterns hung overhead, illuminating the entire street in bright red and glowing light. Countless people walked by, creating quite a lively scene.

Walking ahead of Lu Tong were several children—a pair of sisters. The elder sister was about twelve or thirteen, while the younger one was only five or six years old. The little girl jumped trying to reach the flower lanterns overhead, but was too short to reach them. Her sister stretched out her hand to grasp a flower lantern and, by the light of the lantern, carefully examined the red strip hanging beneath the lantern.

“What does it say?” the younger sister asked anxiously.

“Half-bloomed sparse plum blossoms on the branch—” the older sister read out the characters above.

The little girl looked completely bewildered, but the older sister smiled with delight, tore down the red strip, and pinched her sister’s nose tip, “I know, this character is ‘Min’!”

“Come, let’s get you some candy!”

The two sisters joyfully squeezed into the crowd, their figures gradually disappearing. Lu Tong was watching with some fascination when Pei Yunying’s voice came from beside her, carrying a hint of casualness: “Is Lu Min your real name?”

She suddenly came back to her senses and gave a very soft “Mm.”

“Is it taken from ‘be quick to act but cautious in speech’?”

“No.”

Lu Tong said calmly: “It’s taken from ‘cleverness and quickness can be relied upon, yet cannot be relied upon.'”

Pei Yunying’s eyes shifted slightly.

Lu Tong lowered her eyelashes.

There were three children in the family. Lu Rou, whose name meant “gentle yet firm”—father hoped she would be gentle but have her own opinions.

Lu Qian, whose name meant “humility is the handle of virtue”—the family hoped he would be humble and courteous, not blindly arrogant.

And she, being the youngest and most pampered in the family, inevitably had an impatient temperament and always liked to show off her little cleverness. So father named her Min, hoping she would be clever and quick, yet not become arrogant because of it, but remain grounded.

In her childhood, she actually didn’t much like the character “Min,” feeling that there were so many pleasant and beautiful characters in the world, yet her father, for all his vast learning, chose to give his three children such ordinary names without any distinguishing features. Therefore, in the past she preferred others to call her by her pet name “Tongtong.”

Tongtong, New Year’s Day—it sounded different from others at once.

Later, when she followed Yunniang to Falling Plum Peak, Yunniang never asked her name until her death, only calling her “Little Seventeen.” And when she came down the mountain and others asked, she only said her name was “Lu Tong,” as if saying the two characters “Lu Min” would be failing her parents’ expectations for her, as if the Lu Tong who picked up corpses and tested medicines on Falling Plum Peak, who killed people and framed them in Shengjing city, was never the same person as Third Miss Lu of Changwu County who loved to laugh and play and brought joy to her parents’ knees.

Self-deception.

“I still prefer your current name,” the person beside her spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

“Tongtong,” he pondered for a moment, then said with a smile: “It has the feeling of renewal and fresh beginnings.”

Lu Tong’s eyelashes trembled.

He had actually guessed it.

Of course—his subordinates had well-informed networks. Since they could know her birthday was New Year’s Day, naturally they could also guess the meaning of the pet name Tongtong.

Lu Tong didn’t speak. Pei Yunying thought for a moment and said: “Dr. Lu seems to have read many books.”

Nowadays both men and women had official schools, but those were only affordable to nobles. Ordinary private schools, unless the family was wealthy like that master who hired Scholar Wu as his daughter’s tutor—most common people didn’t study, as studying was quite expensive.

Lu Tong slowly walked forward with the crowd: “My father was a schoolteacher. He believed girls should read more books to avoid being deceived in the future. My sister and I were both personally taught by him from the beginning.”

Father always made them study.

But Lu Tong hated studying most when she was young.

She didn’t understand what use studying had. Reading couldn’t earn silver like doing business, nor could it serve as two steamed buns when hungry. Even in the imperial examinations, very few from Changwu County passed to become scholars. Moreover, she couldn’t take the examinations to become a champion and official like Lu Qian could.

The neighbor auntie would tease her laughingly: “Third girl, you must listen to your father and study hard, so you can become a talented lady in the future. Your mother was liked by your father because she wrote good poetry.”

Lu Tong looked suspiciously at her mother hanging laundry in the distance and firmly denied: “That’s not right! Father doesn’t like mother because mother can write poetry—it’s because mother is beautiful!”

The neighbors laughed heartily, but mother blushed and came after her with a wooden stick: “You dead girl, talking nonsense again!”

“It’s true!”

At night, she hid under the covers, watching mother mend old clothes under the bedside lamp, and asked: “Mother, why do we have to study? I don’t like studying.”

Mother stopped her needlework, thought for a moment, and answered: “Reading is like taking medicine—with more medicine, strength naturally follows.”

“Reading more can resolve confusion.”

“Resolve confusion?” Young Lu Tong pouted, “If I’m confused, I can ask father, ask sister, ask second brother.”

“You silly girl,” mother tapped her forehead with a laugh and scolding, “when they’re not by your side, if you have things you don’t understand, you can find answers in books.”

“Why wouldn’t they be by my side?” Lu Tong wasn’t satisfied with this answer, rolled over and muttered: “With sister and second brother here, I don’t need to study.”

That was what Lu Tong thought then—believing that for every question in the world, her parents and siblings would find answers for her, all confusion would be easily resolved, things she didn’t like didn’t need to be done, books she didn’t want to read didn’t need to be read.

And her family would always be by her side.

Until she went to Falling Plum Peak with Yunniang.

Countless nights, she tossed and turned sleeplessly. The pain of being used as a test subject, the loneliness of living alone on the mountain peak, Yunniang’s malicious laughter, and longing for her family turned into countless thick, dark mists that wove together into a net, covering her within it. She always felt her sanity would collapse in the next moment, always felt she couldn’t last another moment.

In those difficult days, she suddenly remembered her mother’s words.

“When they’re not by your side, if you have things you don’t understand, you can find answers in books.”

The future she couldn’t see clearly, the confusion that didn’t know when it would stop—in such days, she picked up books.

There were many books in Yunniang’s room.

Most were about poisons and medicine, with a small portion on history and classics. She could read the characters but didn’t understand their meanings, could only force herself to continue reading. Day after day, year after year, she gradually came to understand the meanings in the books.

She didn’t know whether reading could truly resolve confusion, but in those years, reading helped her pass many days, making those anxious, helpless times seem less unbearable.

Mother certainly never imagined that the little girl who once hated studying most in the family, who hid and threw her homework into the pond claiming it was stolen, would later read so many books and learn so many principles on the mountain.

The person beside her said: “Your father was very insightful.”

In the Liang Dynasty, most ordinary fathers believed daughters didn’t need to study—staying home to embroider and do needlework was sufficient.

Lu Tong smiled faintly: “Unfortunately, it was useless.”

Pei Yunying paused slightly.

“My sister studied much better than I did,” Lu Tong said. “When her essays were taken to second brother’s academy, the teachers praised them highly. If she had been born male and could take the examinations, Changwu County might have produced a champion long ago. Yet she was still deceived to death.”

“Our whole family were scholars, but look at the outcome—still like this.”

Lu Tong smiled, that smile carrying self-mockery: “Trading books for life is just self-deception by the poor. The most useless people in the world are scholars.”

When she said this, her tone was calm and waveless, like someone weary from seeing through worldly affairs, perhaps with a trace of hatred for her own powerlessness.

Reading was like drinking anesthetic when tormented by illness—it could temporarily reduce pain but couldn’t make the pain disappear.

“I don’t think so.”

A young man’s voice suddenly came from beside her.

“In all of Shengjing, it seems only you could study the Liang Dynasty Code so thoroughly.”

As if struck by something, Lu Tong instinctively looked up.

The young man smiled down at her, the soft glow of the gauze lanterns overhead leaping into his eyes, outlining layers of warmth around his figure.

Even his gaze became gentle.

“Not everyone can kill under my very nose without being discovered.”

He smiled, staring into Lu Tong’s eyes: “Dr. Lu, you’re very capable.”

Very… capable?

Lu Tong was stunned.

It wasn’t teasing, nor mockery.

Pei Yunying’s tone was very serious.

Around them people flowed back and forth, lantern light glowing everywhere, the young man in black boots and brocade clothes smiled at her.

Sincere, without a trace of falseness.

After a moment of silence, Lu Tong was about to speak when she suddenly noticed Pei Yunying’s gaze had moved past her to fix on something behind her, his expression somewhat strange.

What had he seen?

Lu Tong instinctively wanted to turn around, but just as she moved, Pei Yunying pressed her shoulder. Before she could react, a shadow covered her and Lu Tong’s cheek touched his cool clothing.

Pei Yunying blocked her from view.

The passing crowd didn’t spare them an extra glance—during the Lantern Festival, there were plenty of lovers strolling at night.

Lu Tong was almost enveloped in his entire shadow, her head against his chest at extremely intimate distance, seemingly able to hear his gentle yet strong heartbeat, beat after beat.

Particularly clear amid the surging crowd.

After an unknown amount of time, the force of the hand pressing her lessened.

He released Lu Tong.

“Who did you just see?” Lu Tong turned to look behind her, but saw only the flower-filled streets and strolling people, nothing suspicious.

Pei Yunying’s sudden action was most likely because he’d seen someone. In the instant he pulled Lu Tong in front of him, she hadn’t missed the coldness in Pei Yunying’s eyes.

“Someone you wouldn’t want to see,” Pei Yunying smiled carelessly.

He didn’t answer Lu Tong’s question.

Lu Tong pressed her lips together, not liking this feeling of being kept in the dark.

Perhaps sensing her displeasure, Pei Yunying stepped back and looked down at her, suddenly saying: “Dr. Lu.”

“What?”

“The Qi family is investigating you.”

Lu Tong’s expression shifted as she stared at him without speaking.

“They’ve only traced to Lu Rou, haven’t reached your level yet.” His tone was light, like a casual reminder. “But if this continues, exposure isn’t impossible.”

With his words, Lu Tong understood.

The Grand Tutor’s Manor might suspect the Lu family, even suspect the “Lu Min” who had been missing for years, but for now they wouldn’t suspect her, Lu Tong.

Because nominally, Lu Tong was just a common female doctor from out of town, the resident physician at Renxin Medical Hall, with no connection to the Lu family of Changwu County.

But if she wanted revenge and approached Qi Yutai, her identity would eventually be exposed.

Pei Yunying was warning her.

“I understand,” Lu Tong said. “What other moves is the Qi family making?”

Pei Yunying raised an eyebrow, stared at her for a long moment, saw her expression was frank and open, and finally spoke with mixed amusement and exasperation: “Are you not even pretending in front of me now, completely giving up?”

Asking him for intelligence so brazenly, without any concealment.

“Didn’t Lord Pei say we were allies?”

“Not anymore.”

Lu Tong sneered inwardly.

When he didn’t know her identity, he’d insisted on staying at the medical hall while injured, constantly saying they were “allies.” Now knowing she came for revenge, he acted as if he couldn’t wait to immediately distance himself to avoid trouble.

Sons of noble families were always good at weighing pros and cons.

Just as she was silently criticizing him, a familiar voice came from far away: “Miss! Miss!”

Lu Tong turned to look and saw Yin Zheng standing in the crowd in front of the theater pavilion, waving vigorously at her. Seeing her look over, she smiled and lifted her skirts, desperately making her way through the crowd toward her.

They were quite close to the theater pavilion now. Yin Zheng and the others must have discovered they’d gotten separated and came to wait for her at the theater pavilion specifically.

“Your friend is here,” Pei Yunying also saw Yin Zheng.

Lu Tong turned to look at him—he should leave now.

His gaze paused on the toad lantern in Lu Tong’s hands, then moved to Lu Tong’s face, finally saying: “The spring examinations in March—I wish Dr. Lu all the best.”

Lu Tong nodded: “Thank you for the auspicious words.”

Pei Yunying said nothing more and straightened to leave. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped and called out to Lu Tong.

Lu Tong asked: “Is there something else, my lord?”

He was silent for a moment before speaking quietly: “There will be more danger ahead.”

“Dr. Lu,” he said, “be careful.”

The man’s figure disappeared into the flowing crowd. Lu Tong stood among the hanging lanterns until a voice sounded beside her ear: “Miss, I finally found you!”

Yin Zheng finally squeezed through the heavy crowd to Lu Tong’s side, patting her chest and sighing: “When A’Cheng finished buying the glutinous rice balls and came back saying you were gone, it scared me. Shopkeeper Du said you’d be waiting by the theater pavilion—I didn’t believe him, but fortunately he was right.” Then she stared curiously at the toad lantern in Lu Tong’s hands: “Where did this lantern come from? Miss, you didn’t bring any silver…”

“Someone gave it to me.” Lu Tong looked down and touched the toad’s head. The green toad’s mouth was opened exaggeratedly wide, looking comically amusing.

“Oh.” Yin Zheng didn’t suspect anything, nodded, then looked around.

“What’s wrong?”

“I probably saw wrong,” Yin Zheng smiled embarrassedly. “There were so many people just now, I couldn’t see clearly, but I thought I saw someone standing beside you—I even thought it was Lord Pei!”

…

“I just… seemed to see Young Master Pei.”

A canopied carriage drove through the bustling crowd, someone lowered the curtain in their hand and spoke softly.

“Lord Pei?” A maid handed a warm hand warmer to the person beside her, saying softly: “Could the young lady see clearly?”

The woman sitting in the carriage shook her head slightly. On her jade-colored embroidered skirt with emerald leaf cloud patterns, extremely beautiful phoenix embroidery was sewn. The carriage’s lantern light fell on her face, making her snow-white complexion even more charming and beautiful, like all the noble ladies of Shengjing’s great families—elegant and gorgeous.

This was Qi Huaying, the precious daughter of the current Grand Tutor’s Manor.

Current Grand Tutor Qi Qing had one wife and one concubine, with one son and one daughter both born to his second wife. After his second wife died, Qi Qing never remarried. His eldest son Qi Yutai now held a sinecure position in the Ministry of Revenue, while his young daughter Qi Huaying was only seventeen this year.

Because Qi Qing could be considered to have gained a daughter in his old age, and pitied his young daughter for losing her mother in childhood, he was especially indulgent toward Qi Huaying. The aristocratic families of Shengjing often said that while Grand Tutor Qi was frugal and diligent himself, he was particularly generous with his daughter. The clothes and accessories Qi Huaying normally used were extremely luxurious—even princesses couldn’t compare.

For instance, at this moment, when Qi Huaying wanted to ride alone in a carriage to stroll through the lantern festival, Grand Tutor Qi outwardly agreed to follow his daughter’s wishes, but secretly ordered dozens of hidden guards to follow around the carriage to prevent accidents.

Qi Huaying gripped the hand warmer tightly, her beautiful eyes full of thoughts.

Just now when the carriage passed the lantern pavilion, she’d curiously lifted the curtain to look and saw a familiar shadow there—it seemed to be Pei Yunying walking beside an unfamiliar woman, lowering his head to speak with her.

In that instant, Qi Huaying’s breathing almost stopped, joy surging through her heart, but when she looked again, there were only passing crowds and flower lanterns in the distance, no trace of the figures from before.

Had she… seen wrong?

Qi Huaying couldn’t be sure herself. Disappointment quickly replaced joy, and deeper confusion arose in her heart—if it really was him, then who was the woman beside him?

The maid seemed to see through her thoughts and smiled: “Lord Pei is so busy every day, and with all the invitations the young master sent that he never accepted, how could he have time to stroll through the lantern festival? The young lady must have mistaken someone else.”

Hearing this, Qi Huaying’s grip on the hand warmer tightened, and she sighed somewhat melancholically: “Yes.”

Ever since the assassination attempt at Treasure Fragrance Tower and being rescued by the Heir of Duke Zhaoning, both publicly and privately, both emotionally and rationally, the Qi family should express gratitude to Pei Yunying. Her brother held a position in the Ministry of Revenue and also intended to get closer to the Pei family, but despite sending many invitations, this Marshal of the Palace Command couldn’t find even a moment of free time and had never once come to the Grand Tutor’s Manor.

Qi Huaying felt somewhat bitter.

“Why does the young lady sigh? Didn’t the young master say that the Palace Command’s official duties are complex? If you really want to meet, you just need to speak with the master…”

“Silence!”

Qi Huaying sharply interrupted the maid’s words, and the person beside her immediately fell quiet.

“How dare you say such things!” Qi Huaying sternly scolded the maid, turning her head away somewhat shyly and angrily, though her face gradually reddened.

She was seventeen years old, well past the age for choosing a husband. Her father had mentioned her marriage to her before, but she’d interrupted him each time. It was really because none of those so-called talented young men could catch her eye.

Except for… except for that person.

Qi Huaying’s heart began beating rapidly.

The carriage fell silent, with the maid sitting to the side with lowered head, not daring to speak.

Qi Huaying bit her lip.

Perhaps, as the maid said, she should take the initiative to speak with her father.