Sunlight slanted in, casting an ambiguous, hazy warmth over the bed at that early hour.

Wearing that pretty, boyish face of his, Zhang Xingjian asked, all innocence: “Did I move?”

Even as he said it, he couldn’t help but shift his hips forward slightly.

And so, this time, it wasn’t only Shen Qingwu who thought he was being shameless—even he noticed it himself.

Zhang Xingjian fell briefly silent.

He couldn’t help laughing once: “My apologies. I didn’t even notice myself.”

Even in a state like this, hovering above her, he still maintained that same unhurried, gentle, pure air of a young immortal.

Zhang Xingjian said, his voice soft and mild, warm as a spring breeze: “It happens sometimes… I can’t quite help it. I do feel a great deal for you—but I have no intention of offending you.”

He gestured at the bandage wrapped beneath her chest: “I noticed it’s soaked through with blood. I wanted to take it off and rewrap it for you.”

His eyes shifted slightly, and in that calm, Shen Qingwu couldn’t help thinking of certain happy moments from before.

He was clearly stirred at this moment.

Shen Qingwu propped herself up on one arm, pressed a palm against his forehead, and pushed him back bit by bit.

He was pushed until he sat off to the side, watching as she propped herself up on her elbows and sat up.

Her loose inner robe slid down around her waist, gathering like clouds. Her long hair fell loose, her upper body slender and long; her skin showed through, faintly, between the strands of her hair as they shifted. Her complexion wasn’t as fair as it had been a year ago—having crossed battlefields back and forth, her skin had turned a light wheat color, marked all over with wounds large and small.

Zhang Xingjian looked for a long moment, deeply unsettled by what he saw, and yet still couldn’t make out the full extent of it.

He even began to suspect she had internal injuries… otherwise, why did she cough so often?

While Zhang Xingjian sat beside her, deep in thought after being pushed away, Shen Qingwu turned her back to him and began wrapping the strips of cloth around herself, binding them into place. To her, her chest was naturally something of a burden—binding it tightly beneath her clothes, so it wouldn’t get in the way of fighting, was always for the best.

As she quietly dressed herself, Zhang Xingjian’s presence drew closer from behind.

He said: “You’re not wrapping it properly. It’ll cause you problems if it’s too tight. Let me help you, shall I?”

Shen Qingwu thought resentfully to herself: apparently there’s nothing I can do properly, while you can do everything. I suppose I can’t survive without you.

Outwardly, though, Shen Qingwu shifted her shoulder to dodge his hand, saying coldly: “No need.”

Shen Qingwu dressed herself with an air of indifference, speaking to the man behind her: “There’s no need to dwell on what happened last night.”

Zhang Xingjian’s gaze flickered.

Shen Qingwu said: “And I won’t hold it against you either, that you snuck up on me and coveted me first thing this morning.”

Shen Qingwu, considering this only fair: “Don’t go forming unreasonable suspicions about what happened last night, and I won’t beat you up for what you just did with your hands. We’re even. Once we’re out this door, don’t go saying anything foolish.”

Shen Qingwu heard Zhang Xingjian give a soft laugh.

His voice, too, was gentle, giving away no particular emotion: “Say what foolish thing? Who are you afraid might find out? Afraid Master Yang might get the wrong idea?”

Shen Qingwu felt she had nothing to do with him at all.

She never bothered engaging with such meaningless remarks.

So Zhang Xingjian’s needling comment didn’t interrupt her as she got dressed.

Just as she pulled her outer robe closed and was about to get off the bed, Zhang Xingjian reached out from behind and pulled her back, dragging her back onto the bed.

Startled, stars swimming before her eyes, Shen Qingwu found she had actually let him catch her off guard, and now found herself held in his arms.

Pressed back down onto the bedding, the back of her head cradled in his palm, Shen Qingwu was still somewhat dazed.

What was he doing?

She looked up at Zhang Xingjian above her.

Her injuries were genuinely serious, so unless it was necessary, she preferred not to add to her burden. She hadn’t used her martial skill to resist Zhang Xingjian, and now, pinned beneath him, she wasn’t afraid either.

If she wanted to fight back, she could at any moment.

She simply didn’t want to.

She simply didn’t understand what he was doing.

Shen Qingwu said coldly: “Let go. Don’t think I really won’t fight you.”

Zhang Xingjian said gently: “Go ahead, then. Do you think I’m afraid?”

He gave an indifferent smile: “My parasol tree, nothing much matters to me anymore these days. You know that.”

Shen Qingwu thought: …know what, exactly?

That he’d been acting strangely the entire journey?

While Shen Qingwu’s thoughts wandered, Zhang Xingjian’s gaze softened bit by bit. The evident stirring below his waist hadn’t subsided at all; hovering above her as he was now, it was a plain reminder to Shen Qingwu of the wolfish intent lurking in him.

And yet his eyes were as gentle and soft as spring ripples.

There might have been desire in them, but it wasn’t obvious. What was far more obvious was that particular, particular look… the kind that made Shen Qingwu want to look away.

Noticing her gaze skittering away, Zhang Xingjian reached out and brushed the loose strands of hair from her cheek, issuing her a command: “Look at me. Why won’t you look at me?”

Shen Qingwu frowned.

He reached out and smoothed the crease between her brows: “Don’t frown. I’m not your trouble.”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

Pinned beneath him, with him looking at her that way, his body restless, their breath mingling at close range, his fingers stroking circle after circle against the inside of her wrist.

The pressure of it…

Shen Qingwu felt her very soul melting under his touch.

A long-absent, tingling warmth spread outward from everywhere his gaze touched—from her wrist held in his grip, from the place where her leg brushed against his—threading through her in soft, scattered strands.

The air seemed to grow warm.

Shen Qingwu began to sweat, her fingers curling involuntarily. Her mind went blank, staring up dazedly at the beautiful man above her.

Shen Qingwu reminded herself: restrain yourself, restrain yourself.

Hold on, hold on.

Don’t lose control, don’t let him lead you along, don’t be tempted, don’t make a mistake you’ll come to regret.

But… beneath her cold exterior, beneath her frozen heart, a distracted little voice whispered: kissing him felt good, being held by him felt good, sleeping beside him felt unusually good too. Did she really have to hold back?

As Shen Qingwu waged this inner war, a flush began creeping up her neck.

Zhang Xingjian had been watching her the whole time.

Now, noticing the change in her, he smiled without a sound.

One of the stones weighing on his heart loosened, just slightly.

Zhang Xingjian said softly: “If you want to, then let’s. I’d never refuse you.”

Shen Qingwu said: “Keep dreaming.”

She put on an untouchable, sacrosanct air, and, seized by sudden inspiration, offered up a lofty principle: “Desire itself is nothing to be ashamed of. What’s shameful is being controlled by base instinct and desire, losing one’s own dignity in the process.”

Zhang Xingjian was momentarily stunned.

She’d actually learned to make veiled accusations now.

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes curved, smiling: “I have no such talents, no such dignity. I do indeed have desire. I’ve never denied it… my parasol tree, I want to be intimate with you.”

Shen Qingwu said: “Get up. It’s time for breakfast. Yang Su will come looking for me.”

Zhang Xingjian said: “Changing the subject?”

Shen Qingwu’s temper flared instantly at that: “Who’s changing the subject? If you’re in heat, go find—”

His eyes dimmed slightly, and Shen Qingwu cut herself off in time.

Even if the two of them weren’t on good terms, she shouldn’t insult him like that. She knew perfectly well that if she hadn’t gotten there first, Zhang Xingjian would never have done such a thing with anyone before marriage.

In a certain sense… she truly had been the one dragging him down into this.

But he wasn’t so innocent either, wasn’t so untouched either.

Shen Qingwu closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she saw him gently gathering her collar closed with his hand, keeping the view from being exposed.

Shen Qingwu looked into his eyes and suddenly felt a wave of distress.

What was the point of all this?

She’d long ago declared they were finished, long ago spoken such cruel words as wishing him to hell—and yet he’d developed this affliction of fearing thunder because of her, he’d saved her in Dongjing, and she’d muddled her way into bringing him out with her… if this was a whirlpool, the two of them were only sinking deeper and deeper into it.

But this couldn’t go on.

A person had to answer for their own words and actions, shouldn’t keep contradicting themselves—wasn’t that so?

Shen Qingwu said softly: “Zhang Yuelu.”

Zhang Xingjian looked at her: “Hm?”

Meeting her still, dead-water gaze, a sudden ache pierced his heart, a sharp sting that made his body tense for an instant.

Shen Qingwu said: “I’ll let you go, and you let me go too. Stop wearing yourself out over this. Go dutifully back to Dongjing and tend to your grand ambitions—stop the Imperial Princess, or fall in line with her, join forces with me, or stand against me… any of it is fine.

“But stop being so foolish about this. This side of you… isn’t who you’re really meant to be.”

Shen Qingwu lowered her eyes, looking at the hand he had resting against her cheek.

Such lovely skin, the thin layer over the back of his hand as clean and delicate as spring snow. Even the faint trembling of his curled fingers was oddly moving.

But a heart wasn’t so easily moved.

Shen Qingwu said: “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not like any of the women you’ve known before—I’m not some delicate, beautiful flower. I’m a thorn. If you come close to me, all I’ll do is prick you, again and again, and wound you.”

Zhang Xingjian said, calm and gentle: “Then prick me with your thorns.”

Shen Qingwu frowned.

Zhang Xingjian smiled.

He was especially handsome when he smiled, though the timing of his smile now was, to some degree, difficult to understand.

Zhang Xingjian gazed at the woman beneath him.

There was nothing here he couldn’t admit to.

Zhang Xingjian said: “It’s true I feel desire for you, and can’t control it.”

Shen Qingwu had nothing to say to that.

He calmly answered the words she’d nearly let slip before: “And I’m not looking for any other woman either. It’s always been you I want, nothing to do with anyone else.”

He wound a lock of her hair around his finger, turning his face slightly, sunlight falling on him from behind, lighting his face pale and clear for an instant.

He smiled faintly: “I’m not afraid to admit it—my wicked intentions haven’t died. I do desire you, but more than that, I love you. I love you—even after all this time, even though you never come to see me, I still love you.

“Perhaps even more now… that’s hard to say clearly. I can’t always tell the strength of my own feelings so precisely. I try to trace every thread of it clearly, but when the emotion runs deep enough, when it overwhelms me, my judgment isn’t so accurate anymore.

“My parasol tree, I love you, I want to reconcile with you, I want you to forgive me and be with me. But at the same time, I truly don’t know what to do about you, don’t know how to face you.

“These past few days, you’ve probably found me strange—it’s only because I genuinely don’t know how to treat you.”

He stroked her face.

Shen Qingwu, harboring a strange, complicated mix of feelings, listened to him say all this.

She heard him say—

“I won’t hide this either—even now, treating you this way, I can’t say there’s not the tiniest bit of calculation behind it. You hate that I always win, hate that I’m always scheming, but that’s simply something I do constantly, a habit ingrained in me since childhood, carved into my very bones.

“My parasol tree, I can’t give this up for you. People have to survive, and my method of surviving revolves around exactly these things. I have to use these means you look down on to protect what I care about, to protect the people I care about.

“But I can promise you this—every scheme I’ve ever devised where you’re concerned has had one purpose: to win your love, to make you like me, to make you willing to be with me.

“Given that this purpose isn’t so hateful after all, could you be a little less harsh about my methods?”

Shen Qingwu stared at him blankly.

He’d actually openly admitted that he wanted her, that he’d use every means available to win her. He’d actually said he would use every trick to work on her heart, to make her agree.

Something odd stirred in her chest—and because of his honesty… an indescribable feeling rose up as well.

Even she found it strange herself, but she also found this newly honest Zhang Xingjian strange.

Strange man!

Scoundrel!

Kidnapping her!

Setting his sights on her, coveting her, closing in on her, tangling with her, pestering her!

Shen Qingwu cursed him furiously in her heart, but on the surface she said nothing at all. She was enjoying his honesty; she liked hearing the part where she was the one being wanted.

And as if he’d heard her thoughts, Zhang Xingjian went on to say exactly what she wanted to hear—

“My parasol tree, I care about you more than anyone, treasure you more than anyone.

“Anger always has an expiration date. Punishment always comes to an end eventually. Even the way you look when you’re angry moves my heart… you told me to change—how else am I supposed to change?

“In my eyes, you shine, dazzling, always glowing. Wherever you go, I find myself drawn to you helplessly, watching you, chasing after you. There’s no way you could ever make me give that up.”

Shen Qingwu had nothing to say, her eyes only flickering.

Her heart pounded, her palms beginning to sweat again.

She listened in a daze, watching his fingers wind around a lock of her hair, coaxing her gently: “Haven’t I done well these past few days? I’ve barely spoken, haven’t tried any tricks on you… when I do nothing at all, do you actually like that?”

Shen Qingwu said stubbornly: “I like it.”

She could be so stubborn: “I like it best when you stay far away from me. I like it most when you don’t seem to like me at all.”

Zhang Xingjian felt something catch in his throat.

He was, after all, someone of great restraint, and he wasn’t going to let her rattle him.

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes curved: “Can I not change even a little? I know you like people who are honest, straightforward, simple… but a simple, straightforward person wouldn’t be able to move your heart either, would they?

“My parasol tree, let’s discuss this, find some middle ground. I’ll be more honest with you, try not to scheme against you about anything except our feelings for each other… forgive my past coldness, my many calculations, and try again with me—will you?

“I think I’d make a good lover. I think you and I are truly well-matched. You like most of what makes me who I am, just as I’m drawn to every part of you. Give me a chance, soften just a little, let me have some ground—try with me, start over—will you?”

Shen Qingwu fell silent.

She struggled hard against the pull of his allure.

His lips parting and closing, his breath so close… Shen Qingwu suddenly turned her head away, closing her eyes so as not to look at him.

There was a fire in her chest.

Even Liuxia Hui couldn’t have held out as well as she was holding out!

Even Liuxia Hui would have taken his clothes off, meeting Zhang Xingjian!

Shen Qingwu’s closed lashes fluttered, her face flushed red. It was only her stubborn temper that kept her from…

Zhang Xingjian, exasperated: “What a thick head you have!”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes flew open at once, turning to glare at him: “How dare you insult me?”

Zhang Xingjian shut his mouth.

Zhang Xingjian laughed, helpless.

He circled back around, indirect: “Have you and Yang Su made some agreement—that you’ll marry him?”

Shen Qingwu, of course, hadn’t.

But why should she answer him?

Shen Qingwu lifted her chin.

Zhang Xingjian smiled: “Don’t marry him. Otherwise—”

Shen Qingwu shot back: “Otherwise what?”

—What, are you going to kill the pair of us shameless dogs?

You’d dare lay a hand on us?

Even if you dared, if you so much as hurt Yang Su, I’ll fight you to the death!

The meaning in Shen Qingwu’s eyes was blatant enough that even Zhang Xingjian, blind as he might be in other ways, couldn’t fail to see it.

Zhang Xingjian smiled gently: “Otherwise, the Yang family will end up with a daughter-in-law who climbs over the wall while still married in.”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

Zhang Xingjian said, calm and even: “Your resolve isn’t so firm. You’ll always end up seduced away by me eventually. I don’t mind if you sleep with other men, but the Yang family surely won’t be able to overlook such fickleness in a daughter-in-law.”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

She found herself wondering whether Zhang Xingjian had once threatened her, forbidding her from carrying on with other men.

Was Zhang Xingjian now… contradicting his own earlier words?

Zhang Xingjian said: “My parasol tree, I truly don’t know what to do about you. Your temperament is too unyielding—I’m afraid that one wrong move might push you further and further away. I’m afraid that the more I forbid you from doing something, the more you’ll do it deliberately, just to spite me.

“You’re remarkably ruthless when it comes to tormenting me.”

Zhang Xingjian said: “Whatever you ask of me, as long as it’s not unreasonable, I’ll grant it.

“As I said before—if you’re willing, come back to Dongjing with me. If you’d rather not, I’ll stay with you wherever you like instead—that’s not impossible either.

“Every scheme I’ve ever had toward you has had one purpose—to marry you, to have you. But there’s no deadline on it—my parasol tree, I’m not forcing you to respond right away, to make any decision immediately.

“There are many things in this world that aren’t so absolute. I don’t care for choices that are strictly black or white. However angry you are with me, I hope you’ll leave us some room, and not push things to the point of no return.”

Shen Qingwu: …what nonsense was all this.

Zhang Xingjian said: “I won’t interfere in whatever’s between you and Yang Su, but don’t promise yourself to him. Give me a chance… our parasol tree has always had a soft heart, hasn’t she? Surely you won’t be utterly heartless toward me alone.”

As he spoke, he drew out, from inside her collar, a jade pendant tied on a red cord.

The character “Wu” carved into the jade pendant marked it as a gift from Bo Rong.

Shen Qingwu had kept it to this day.

And Zhang Xingjian had noticed it clearly the entire time, only pulling it out now to finally settle accounts with her over it.

Shen Qingwu’s body went rigid.

She thought: here it comes again.

He was surely about to seize on the pendant again and make an issue of it…

But he didn’t.

Zhang Xingjian looked down at the jade pendant.

He knew there was no possibility of anything between Shen Qingwu and Bo Rong—not after Bo Rong had schemed against her the way he had, not after he’d utterly destroyed whatever bond Zhang Xingjian and Shen Qingwu once shared.

Zhang Xingjian felt at ease about Bo Rong now.

Knowing how much Shen Qingwu held grudges, there was no way she could still care about Bo Rong at all.

Which meant… the most important space in Shen Qingwu’s heart had, at last, been vacated—ready to be given to Zhang Xingjian.

As for Yang Su…

Zhang Xingjian, riddled with flaws and blemished with faults as he was, still might have some chance against an earnest, cheerful army companion.

Zhang Xingjian bowed his head, gazing gently at the pendant he had once resented so bitterly: “If you can accept even Bo Rong, you can certainly accept me.”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

She felt compelled to remind him: “This was the first gift I ever received. It means a great deal to me. I don’t like Bo Rong, haven’t forgiven him, and have no plans to help him with anything again. Don’t go making wild connections, and don’t do anything strange because of this.”

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow.

He’d already guessed she’d never speak up for Bo Rong again, and hearing her admit it herself now made him happier still.

Zhang Xingjian smiled: “I know. I’m not jealous of him, don’t care about him at all. That’s just the first gift you ever received, but it’s not so important either—you’ve received other gifts since, more meaningful ones, better ones.”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes went blank with confusion.

She began trying to think of what else she’d received.

He watched her with a smile, his gaze tender and lingering… she began to feel uneasy.

Zhang Xingjian tucked the pendant back into her collar, then suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist, giving it a soft stroke.

Shen Qingwu, stirred and confused by the touch, felt him stop.

Zhang Xingjian said with a smile: “You’re not wearing the pendant I gave you.”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

Trouble.

Her eyes flickered with unease, her gaze wavering, and Zhang Xingjian drew his own conclusions.

He sighed: “I know—you’re angry with me, hold it against me, said harsh things to me, don’t want anything more to do with me. It’s only natural you’re not wearing the pendant I gave you, and I can accept that. But… if things go well between us, if you’re willing to be with me, could you give me some kind of sign—say, wearing the pendant again?”

His face and ears flushed, and in a small, pleading voice on the bed, he said: “I know you’re a woman of your word, know you won’t take back what you’ve said. So just give me a hint, and I’ll understand—if you have even the faintest inclination, give me the smallest bit of encouragement, and I’ll chase after you regardless.

“Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

Shen Qingwu’s lashes fluttered even faster.

She turned her face away, but Zhang Xingjian cupped her face in his hands, insisting on turning her back, meeting her gaze head-on.

Beneath his black hair, his ears had turned faintly red.

He lifted the hem of his robe, and Shen Qingwu, thinking he meant to force himself on her, tensed, hesitating over whether to dodge or not—only to see him, mysterious and furtive, pull a jade pendant from inside his robes.

The warm pendant was pressed into her hand.

Zhang Xingjian said: “Take a look.”

Distracted, Shen Qingwu glanced at it carelessly. At first glance she didn’t recognize it, only felt a flicker of familiarity; and after that flicker, she couldn’t help but look again.

Clouds and mist swirling, the moon hanging in a blue sky, a tall parasol tree.

The scene carved into the jade pendant was exceptionally familiar to Shen Qingwu.

Shen Qingwu blurted out: “My pendant!”

Zhang Xingjian gave her a mock-annoyed look: “Whose? Look again.”

Shen Qingwu looked for a long while and couldn’t puzzle out what he meant.

Zhang Xingjian, half-embarrassed, half-annoyed, shot her a look, took the pendant back, and told her: “This is mine… yesterday I paid with the pearl from the tassel of this very pendant. You think it looks like yours because this is a dragon-and-phoenix pair—I carved both of them myself.”

Zhang Xingjian’s glass-clear eyes shimmered with a brilliant, dazzling light, rippling with feeling:

“When you’re willing to accept me, wear that phoenix pendant at your waist, and I’ll understand.”

Zhang Xingjian, deeply moved and faintly shy: “My parasol tree, in my whole life, that was the first jade pendant I ever carved—the first time I ever confessed my feelings to a woman I loved. I never dared let you know I’d carved a dragon pendant too, afraid you wouldn’t accept it, but now it doesn’t matter anymore.

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

Shen Qingwu’s gaze flickered.

In that instant, she genuinely wanted to flee—

How was she supposed to say this?

While she’d been following Li Linggo, during one of the times she’d gone south of the river to help win over people’s hearts for her, the jade pendant Zhang Xingjian had given her had been shattered by a blade in one of the battles.

Shen Qingwu had been furious at Zhang Xingjian at the time.

And she’d always had that kind of careless, unbothered temperament.

The pendant, broken on the battlefield, she’d simply discarded—it had never once occurred to her to go back and look for it.

She hadn’t treasured the gift Zhang Xingjian had given her; she’d tossed it away like worthless trash, assuming it was nothing more than some idle amusement from his life of wealth and leisure…

She had broken the pendant. She had lost the pendant.

And now, at this very moment, with Zhang Xingjian pinning her down, asking her about that very pendant—

She was doomed.

With Zhang Xingjian’s eyes shining so brightly, Shen Qingwu, momentarily out of her mind, found she couldn’t bring herself to say “I threw it away” and break his heart like that.

She stammered: “Um…”

Zhang Xingjian asked, concerned: “Am I pressing on your wound? Where else are you hurt—should we go find a doctor? Can I take a look at your injuries?”

Shen Qingwu immediately seized on his words, steering away from the pendant topic she couldn’t bring herself to address—

“There’s an injury on my chest.”

Zhang Xingjian froze for a moment, his eyes blinking, bright as a clear river, glimmering with light.

Zhang Xingjian said softly: “Is that what I think it means?”

Shen Qingwu didn’t know how to answer.

She mumbled something vague, only wanting to drop the topic of the pendant as quickly as possible, using anything else as a shield.

And so, Zhang Xingjian, utterly satisfied, was overjoyed beyond measure.

He pulled her up to sit, asked her to remove her clothing, asked if she had any medicine, said he wanted to help apply it for her.

If she was willing to let him see the wound on her chest, what more could he possibly want?

Shen Qingwu dug through her cloth pouch and reluctantly found a small vial of medicinal powder, which she pressed into Zhang Xingjian’s hands.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

He held her waist, utterly guileless: “My parasol tree, you’re too good to me.”

—She’d only asked him to apply the medicine!

Zhang Xingjian said: “As for the pendant…”

Shen Qingwu twisted around at once and pressed the flesh of her chest into his hands.

While he stared, startled, she said, composed: “It hurts terribly, hurry up and put on the medicine.”—

The medicine Shen Qingwu had handed him wasn’t anything particularly good, and probably wouldn’t do much to heal a wound at all.

While applying it, Zhang Xingjian found himself thinking of how to get her a better remedy.

She’d taken off her upper garment; he didn’t need to sneak glances at all—she openly displayed the wounds across her upper body, and that alone was enough to fill Zhang Xingjian with heartache, driving all thoughts of the pendant clean from his mind.

As Zhang Xingjian applied medicine to her back and shoulder, he caught sight of a blade wound cutting halfway across her shoulder, and grew furious: “How did you get a wound this long? What were you doing?”

Shen Qingwu tried to recall: “That was probably from the governor’s residence in Jiangling. That governor slashed at me with a long saber.”

Zhang Xingjian said: “Trying to kill you?”

Shen Qingwu said: “Judging by how he looked at the time, I don’t think he really meant to kill me—it was more about venting his anger. We’d already reached a truce by that point.”

Zhang Xingjian’s voice turned cool: “If it wasn’t a fight to the death, and you’d already reached a truce, then your entering his residence was an act of trust on your part, and yet he still slashed at you with a blade. That wound wasn’t worth taking. Who was this governor? What was his name? For someone to go back on his word like that is simply outrageous.”

Shen Qingwu thought, what does he need the man’s name for—surely he’s not planning revenge?

That wouldn’t be necessary at all.

Shen Qingwu said: “It’s not unreasonable that he was angry… I entered his residence at a rather bad time, and stumbled upon his son bathing. His son ended up completely exposed in front of me, and it caused an uproar throughout the entire residence. Even now, thinking back on it gives me a headache.”

Zhang Xingjian: “…”

Zhang Xingjian, bewildered: “You saw him fully exposed?”

Shen Qingwu, distracted: “That’s exactly the problem—I was only there on a covert scouting mission, worried they might be plotting something. That young man saw I was a woman, assumed I’d be easy to bully, and insisted I take responsibility, crying and making a scene, demanding we get married.

“I don’t know what that governor was thinking either—turns out he had the exact same idea as his son, and started proposing a match for me too. Naturally I had no intention of marrying—I didn’t even know the man, and I didn’t think he was particularly handsome either. Why should one extra glance mean I have to marry him—and besides, I didn’t even get a clear look at anything.”

She let out a muffled grunt.

Because Zhang Xingjian’s hand, pressed against the wound on her shoulder, had suddenly borne down harder.

Zhang Xingjian said: “So if you had known the man, would you have married him? If you’d thought him handsome, would you have married him? If you’d gotten a clear look at his body… would you have married him then?”

He held back, and held back further, but in the end couldn’t suppress his temper.

He scolded her under his breath: “Shen Qingwu, stop being so fickle, falling for whoever crosses your path—go do something productive with yourself.”

Zhang Xingjian stood, his cool sleeve brushing across her bare, rounded shoulder.

He looked down at her and said: “Your injury was far too light.”

Shen Qingwu: “…Hey!”