Shen Qingwu didn’t want to knock Zhang Xingjian out.

She didn’t want to hurt him.

Yang Su had left the problem in her hands, and yet aside from knocking him out, she genuinely couldn’t think of a better method—Yang Su asking her to keep him occupied was truly a difficult ask.

When had she ever had experience holding anyone back like this?

Besides, she didn’t believe she had the ability to keep anything hidden from Zhang Xingjian.

After much deliberation, Shen Qingwu thought: it would be so much simpler if Zhang Yuelu would just fall asleep. Sleep straight through till morning, and by the time he woke, she and Yang Su would already have finished the mission and be far away.

Knock him out with a strike? Or press a sleep point?

Under pressure, would she even manage it successfully?

Just then, a visitor arrived at the courtyard they’d rented—the chatty physician from Mingshan Hall.

All three of them were startled; none had expected the physician to come find them here.

The physician walked in and handed Yang Su a packet of medicine, none too pleased. “That young master of yours left in such a hurry today that he forgot to take one of the herb packets, so I had to ask around the whole way here to find you. My lady, if you’re recovering from an injury, you must follow the doctor’s instructions when taking your medicine—the dosage can’t be reduced!”

Shen Qingwu and Yang Su both fell silent, both a little tense.

Shen Qingwu shot Yang Su a reproachful look: how could he forget to take a packet of medicine?

Yang Su thought to himself: surely no one had followed him? Surely their plan with Shen Qingwu hadn’t been exposed?

Seeing the two of them stay silent, Zhang Xingjian’s eyes flickered slightly, and he stepped forward with a smile to invite the physician inside.

By the time Shen Qingwu had composed herself and crossed the threshold to follow, she caught the physician sighing repeatedly. “Next time something like this happens, you’ll have to sort it out yourselves. I’m leaving with my father tomorrow, off to the capital—who knows when we’ll be back…”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes met Zhang Xingjian’s.

Whether idly or deliberately, Zhang Xingjian said with a faint smile, “How strange—the young master went out specifically to buy medicine, and still managed to forget a packet? My lady, perhaps you should go ask him whether he also forgot the snacks he bought for you?”

The moment she heard this, Shen Qingwu felt a stab of guilt.

At the door, Yang Su, who had just been about to step inside, quietly withdrew his foot again.

Out of the corner of her eye, Shen Qingwu saw Yang Su’s hand press against his waist—a habitual gesture, the stance of a martial artist reaching for a blade.

She spoke up at once. “Doctor!”

The middle-aged physician jumped, startled, and looked up in confusion.

Shen Qingwu said, “Doctor, Zhang Yuelu doesn’t know how to brew medicine properly. Let me take you to the kitchen—you can teach me how it’s done.”

Without waiting for a response, she stepped forward and pulled the bewildered physician away. On her way out, she glanced at Yang Su, who stood by the wall, signaling him to stay calm and not run into Zhang Xingjian’s hands.

Inside the room, Zhang Xingjian lowered his eyes.

He smiled faintly, lifted his sleeve, and sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea to drink alone.

His lady and the young master had their own little secret—naturally, it wasn’t his place, as the mere bookkeeper, to ask about it—

Shen Qingwu pushed the physician into the kitchen and shut the door behind them, wary.

The physician genuinely believed this strange little household wanted his advice on brewing medicine.

Zhang Xingjian had been tending the stove here just moments ago; the medicine still bubbled softly, and the whole kitchen was thick with its bitter smell. As the physician leaned over to check the pot, a cold blade suddenly pressed against his throat.

The physician said, “…?”

Shen Qingwu turned to let him see clearly who was threatening him—the lady of the house herself.

This was the same lady who had come dressed as delicately as a spring peach blossom during her earlier visit; here, in her own home, she was dressed like a seasoned martial artist. The dagger in her hand, pressed to his throat, suited her far better than any handkerchief ever could.

The physician was stunned. “Where did you get a dagger? What quarrel do we have? Are you going to kill me?!”

Shen Qingwu said, “I’m not going to kill you.”

She only used blades to threaten people.

She said, “This dagger is for self-defense. I’m not going to kill you—I have some questions for you.”

The physician said, frustrated, “Ask, then.”

Shen Qingwu said, “We’ve only been staying here a few days. How did you find us?”

Of course, the physician had already suspected something was off about this odd trio, back when Zhang Xingjian had overpaid him.

Not wanting trouble, the physician explained how he’d noticed Yang Su had missed a packet of medicine, and how he’d asked around outside…

The physician coughed. “My lady and the young master are both fairly low-key people. But that bookkeeper of yours… ahem, he only had to walk through the streets once, and every lovestruck young lady in town knew who he was.”

Shen Qingwu’s expression gradually shifted into blankness.

The physician reminded her, “I only had to ask a few street vendors, and at least a dozen young women were eager to answer. I pieced it together from what they told me, and of course I found my way here.”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

She thought to herself that Yang Su had been right.

Traveling with a man who drew so much unwanted attention really was troublesome.

She and Yang Su hadn’t given themselves away—but Zhang Xingjian had.

A flicker of caution rose in her: could tomorrow night… be a trap?

A trap meant to lure her and Yang Su straight into the fire?

But on second thought, even if it was a trap, as long as it delayed the physicians from reaching the capital, neither she nor Yang Su would lose anything by it.

So then, Zhang Xingjian had to be dealt with.

Shen Qingwu asked the physician, “Do you have any knockout drugs?”

The physician: “…”

Thinking he hadn’t understood, Shen Qingwu clarified, “Something that would put a person into a deep, dazed sleep for the whole night.”

The physician’s face flushed red. “What are you implying? Who are you? Why would you want something like that? I’m a proper physician—I won’t prescribe medicine that helps people do wicked things!”

Shen Qingwu pressed the dagger a little closer against his throat.

The physician’s expression shifted through several colors.

Gritting his teeth, he lowered his voice. “You think I don’t know what you’re really after? You really are… you’re so young, and instead of learning something decent, you’re learning how to cheat on your husband?

“You think I don’t know why you want a drug like this—you want to knock your husband unconscious so you can run off with that pretty-faced bookkeeper.

“I won’t help you and that pretty boy do something so wicked, bullying your own husband like this!”

Shen Qingwu’s expression didn’t so much as twitch.

Her mind worked through a quick turn.

Unable to invent a more detailed lie on the spot, she settled for a simple denial. “The drug isn’t meant for my husband. I’m not bullying my husband.”

Her explanation, to the physician’s ears, carried an entirely different meaning.

The physician’s face cycled through shades of pale and green, looking at her with an expression somewhere between disbelief and despair. “…Don’t tell me you mean to use it on that pretty-faced bookkeeper, then?”

Shen Qingwu considered this, unsure whether to say “yes” or “no.”

The physician clutched his chest, even more bewildered. “You two really are playing quite the game, aren’t you…”

Not content with carrying on behind her husband’s back, now she wanted to spice things up even further?

Thoroughly irritated, the physician swatted Shen Qingwu’s dagger aside, his tone firm. “I already told you—I’m a proper physician. No one in our clinic sells the kind of drug you’re describing! If we sold something like that, the authorities would shut us down.”

Shen Qingwu said, “There’s always a back channel, though.”

She spoke flatly. “You might not sell it openly, but privately, surely you do. What business would turn away good coin?”

She smiled at him, baring her teeth in a thinly veiled threat. “If you won’t sell it to me, I’ll go to the local magistrate and expose your under-the-table dealings!”

The physician was quiet for a long moment.

At last, he admitted, awkwardly, “I really don’t have any knockout drug—I left in such a hurry, I don’t have anything like that on me… but I do have a small packet of ‘Lovestruck Seed,’ if you want it?”

Shen Qingwu didn’t understand, and frowned.

The physician said, exasperated, “Aren’t you and your bookkeeper looking to spice things up a bit? Wouldn’t this packet do the trick?”

The physician added, “How could you do this to your husband! Shameful!”

Just then, Shen Qingwu heard Zhang Xingjian’s gentle voice from outside. “Doctor, haven’t you finished teaching our lady how to brew the medicine yet?”

He said, with a smile in his voice, “Why is the door even closed?”

Shen Qingwu tensed and hurriedly snatched the small packet from the physician’s hand, not even pausing to ask what exactly “Lovestruck Seed” did or how it was meant to be taken. Flustered, she pressed one of her earrings into the physician’s hands as payment, warning him not to say anything out of place.

To the physician, every one of her frantic actions only confirmed his suspicion—that hearing the bookkeeper outside had thrown the lady into such a state she could barely contain herself.

The physician’s face darkened.

The kitchen door opened, revealing Zhang Xingjian’s warm, composed expression, with Yang Su trailing distractedly behind him.

Zhang Xingjian looked Shen Qingwu over and asked with a smile, “Why is one of your earrings missing?”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

The question sent a jolt through her, her back going rigid, every hair on end—how closely was this man watching her? She replied coldly, “What earring? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled gently. “Perhaps my lady lost it while she was busy at something. No matter.”

Watching the two of them carry on so intimately, the physician pushed his way between them, thoroughly annoyed. “Move aside.”

He walked over to the troubled-looking Yang Su, who greeted him with a broad, toothy grin.

The physician felt a fresh wave of despair at this young man’s utter lack of urgency.

Why was there a husband in this world so dense?

Unable to say outright that his wife seemed ready to stray, the physician patted Yang Su on the shoulder, his mood heavy. “Young master, you’d best… take care of yourself.

“If you ever need a doctor again, and you happen to run into me or my father, we’ll give you twenty percent off.”

Though Yang Su had no idea what any of this was about, and doubted he’d ever cross paths with the man again, he was pleased to have made a good impression. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

The physician let out a deep sigh.

Behind him, Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow and laughed softly—

Shen Qingwu found a moment to speak privately with Yang Su, sharing her suspicion that there might be something suspicious about the stone bridge outside the city.

Yang Su agreed with her: facing an obvious trap out in the open, they’d still have to push through it head-on.

Yang Su told her, “Keep Zhang Sanlang occupied. I’ll give you two hours.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Mm.”

She’d already worked it out in her mind—during the stretch of road leading out of the city, the “bonded gu” inside Zhang Xingjian wouldn’t activate. If he believed she’d betrayed him, and if she and Yang Su made it out safely by dawn, they’d surely be far away by then—far enough that the gu inside him wouldn’t trigger until later.

Didn’t he have that girl from the Miao mountains anyway?

He wasn’t going to die no matter what.

The next day, Shen Qingwu and Yang Su ran through the night’s events in their minds, over and over.

In the afternoon, a light wind picked up, and the sky turned gray and hazy.

Leaves rustled and drifted down, fluttering like butterfly wings.

Sitting in the courtyard drinking tea, Zhang Xingjian glanced up at the sky and said gently, “The weather might turn tonight. There could be rain.”

He glanced over at Shen Qingwu and Yang Su, both seated with him at the stone table.

Yang Su tensed and took a gulp of his tea.

He choked on it, coughing for a long while. “Why are you looking at me? I’m not going out tonight anyway!”

Yang Su shot Shen Qingwu a look.

Shen Qingwu said calmly, “Exactly. Why are you looking at Yang Su and me? What do you mean by that?”

Zhang Xingjian paused for a moment.

Zhang Xingjian said with a smile, “I’m only worried about thunder tonight…”

The two of them froze, exchanging a glance.

Zhang Xingjian teased, “Lady Shen the Second surely won’t be sending Young Master Yang to my room again in the middle of the night, will she?”

Yang Su gave an awkward laugh. “Of course not! Even if A’Wu told me to, I wouldn’t go.”

Yang Su quickly found the atmosphere of the three of them sitting together unbearable.

He felt awkward, and increasingly convinced that every word out of Zhang Xingjian’s mouth was some kind of probing test.

The teapot ran dry, so he picked it up, saying he’d go refill it.

A little while later, Shen Qingwu came to the kitchen to find him.

Yang Su said, “He’s testing us—can’t you tell?”

Shen Qingwu said, “You don’t need to be so jumpy about it. He’s not quite that sinister… he just talks like that. You’ll get used to it.”

Yang Su said, “I won’t need to get used to it. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

Shen Qingwu said, “True enough.”

But no matter what, Yang Su refused to go back out and sit drinking tea with Zhang Xingjian; he couldn’t understand what was so enjoyable about a pot of tea. So Shen Qingwu carried the tea back out herself.

Peeking through the gap in the kitchen door, Yang Su could see that Zhang Xingjian seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit—

Shen Qingwu spent the whole afternoon in the courtyard drinking tea with Zhang Xingjian, and while Yang Su found the arrangement unbearable, she found it fine enough.

Zhang Xingjian was a man who always kept a sense of proportion in what he did; he was nothing like the person Yang Su imagined, constantly bringing up inappropriate topics.

He loved tea; Shen Qingwu didn’t, and he never pressed her to try it.

She sat through the whole afternoon, and though it was called “having tea,” she mostly ate her way through an afternoon’s worth of sweet cakes. Zhang Xingjian, quite engaged, tried them along with her, and the two of them recommended pieces back and forth, washing down the sweetness with tea.

Shen Qingwu took a bite of a cloud cake that was overly sweet, and it stuck cloyingly in her throat. She hurriedly gulped down a cup of tea, and when she’d finished, she noticed Zhang Xingjian, one hand propped under his chin, the other resting on the stone table, smiling as he watched her drink.

Shen Qingwu looked down—at the speed with which she’d been guzzling her tea, at the crumbs of cake stuck to the rim of her cup.

Her rough, hasty manner was nothing at all like his refined poise—in the time it took him to finish one small cake, she’d already eaten three or four.

Shen Qingwu set down her cup and stared at him. “That’s just how I drink my tea.”

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow, a questioning look on his face.

Shen Qingwu said, “You have some objection?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “No objection at all.”

Shen Qingwu pressed on. “You don’t think the way I drink tea is different from the way you do?”

Zhang Xingjian nodded. “It’s certainly different.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Then what do you think of it?”

In her mind, she braced herself for him to say he found it distasteful, unrefined, ill-mannered—that he’d need to teach her proper etiquette.

Zhang Xingjian propped his chin in his hand, studying her for a long moment, clearly intrigued. “I find it rather interesting. Would you teach me how?”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

Seeing her sit there wordlessly, he poured himself a cup of tea and, mimicking her manner, tipped it back and gulped it down with great gusto.

The refined young man, raised his whole life to strict standards of decorum, had never done anything like this before—he choked on the tea, his face flushing red as he coughed into his sleeve. His eyes, glistening and misty, turned toward Shen Qingwu, full of unspoken feeling.

Shen Qingwu: “…”

She said, “Stop that. Please.”

If Zhang Xingjian’s second elder sister from the Zhang family ever found out he was doing this while with her, that lady would surely be furious—a young man raised with such care, gulping his tea down like that.

Zhang Xingjian had genuinely tried to mimic the way she drank her tea, and yet for some reason, Shen Qingwu’s mood sank. Though he didn’t understand why, he went along with it, careful not to press further, eating cake alongside her instead. Bit by bit, as they ate, her mood lifted again.

But then Zhang Xingjian carried off the last plate of cakes.

He said with a smile, “Surely you’re not skipping dinner tonight?”

Yang Su needed to be present at dinner without fail.

After eating, Yang Su retreated back to his room, but not before shooting Shen Qingwu a look on his way out: get rid of him, fast.

If Zhang Xingjian kept sitting in the courtyard like this, how was Yang Su supposed to slip out?

Shen Qingwu felt the pressure mounting.

She carried the dishes into the kitchen and washed them slowly, dawdling. When she came back out, Zhang Xingjian was still sitting at the stone table, chin in hand, waiting for her.

The lanterns in the courtyard had been lit, their small flames flickering in the wind.

The sky didn’t look promising—how long did he intend to sit out here?

Shen Qingwu said, “Aren’t you going back to your room to rest?”

Zhang Xingjian glanced at her. “I believe I’ve only just finished dinner.”

—Rest from what?

Shen Qingwu said, “…I’m going to sleep.”

Zhang Xingjian paused for a moment.

He said quietly, “Won’t you sit with me a little longer?”

Shen Qingwu steeled her resolve. “I’m going back to my room to sleep.”

Some part of her secretly hoped Zhang Xingjian would be shameless enough to insist, to cling to her and refuse to let her go.

But Zhang Xingjian was, of all things, a highborn young man who always knew exactly where to draw the line, unfailingly courteous.

He gave a small smile. “Then I suppose I’ll sit here alone a while.”

After all that, he still showed no sign of heading back to his room to rest.

Shen Qingwu stood beside him, weighing how best to knock him unconscious.

He suddenly looked up, pointing toward the horizon. “Wutong, there’s a star there… do you see it?”

The breeze stirred against Shen Qingwu’s lowered face.

Loose strands of hair drifted across her eyes; she wasn’t looking at any star—what she saw were his eyes, bright as stars themselves.

Like a winding river of stars, like lantern light dancing in the wind.

The delight and clear, unguarded innocence in his eyes… belonged entirely to Zhang Xingjian.

Shen Qingwu’s hand, hanging at her side, curled into a fist, trembling slightly.

Zhang Xingjian’s lashes fluttered; he reached out and gave her sleeve a light tug. “Wutong, won’t you really sit with me a while longer? I want nothing else from you. I only want to spend a little more time with you—is that all right?”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

She faltered under his gaze, and in her confusion, agreed to stay without quite meaning to.

By the time she came back to her senses, she found herself already in the kitchen again, about to bring out the wine.

Gritting her teeth, Shen Qingwu emptied the entire packet of “Lovestruck Seed” the physician had given her the day before into the wine.

She truly couldn’t bring herself to knock him unconscious while he smiled so warmly at her. But drugging him—that, she could still bring herself to do.

From the name “Lovestruck Seed” and the physician’s odd expression, Shen Qingwu had a rough guess as to what the drug was meant for.

It didn’t matter.

As long as it could put Zhang Xingjian down, what did it matter if she had to suffer alongside him for it?—

Reappearing in the courtyard with the wine, Shen Qingwu said to Zhang Xingjian, “I don’t want to stay in the courtyard.”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes dimmed.

Shen Qingwu said, “Shall we go to your room instead?”

Zhang Xingjian was taken aback.

But his eyes lit up like stars in an instant, so bright that Shen Qingwu felt even more guilty, even more unsettled.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Really? You’re willing to come to my room?”

Even the smallest hint of warmth from her lifted his spirits considerably.

And truthfully, why would he want to keep sitting out in the biting wind of the courtyard?

But every time he went back to his room, she never came to see him. She was always avoiding him, always keeping her distance. If sitting in the courtyard drinking tea helped her relax, helped her grow even a little more accustomed to his presence, Zhang Xingjian thought it no great hardship to endure a couple more days of cold wind.

And yet, Shen Qingwu was treating him more kindly than he’d expected.

Did she think the wind was too cold? Did she pity him, and that was why she’d suggested going back to his room?

It didn’t matter.

Zhang Xingjian thought, if she wanted to pity him, then let her pity him completely. If Shen Qingwu was fond of how he behaved now, he had no objection to keeping it up indefinitely.

He kept trying to gauge where her limits lay, what she could bring herself to accept.

But feelings answered to the heart alone; he couldn’t control anyone else’s moods, and he kept getting it wrong regardless.

Now, hearing Shen Qingwu suggest going back to his room, Zhang Xingjian rose to his feet, gently brushing her wrist.

He smiled. “Wutong trusts me enough to come to my room at night—of course I’ll live up to that trust. Don’t worry.”

Shen Qingwu’s gaze flickered, and she stammered something incoherent.

She thought to herself: but I don’t want you to live up to my trust at all. I only want you to lose consciousness as quickly as possible, and not notice that Yang Su is gone—

Once inside Zhang Xingjian’s room, Shen Qingwu sat at the table and poured wine for the two of them.

Worried she might feel uneasy, Zhang Xingjian asked, “Would you like Young Master Yang to join us?”

Shen Qingwu’s hand trembled.

She held her wine cup steady, careful not to spill a drop.

She looked up and asked, “Why bring up Yang Su? Do you actually want him here with the two of us?”

Zhang Xingjian said calmly, “Of course not.”

He added, half-joking, half in earnest, “But ever since we’ve reunited, Wutong always seems to be off with Young Master Yang, whispering little secrets you won’t let me hear. I don’t know where the two of you find so much to talk about.”

Shen Qingwu stayed composed, pushing his cup toward him.

She said, “Since you already know it’s our secret, don’t go prying into it.”

She watched Zhang Xingjian closely as he drank the cup without a hint of suspicion.

Shen Qingwu, however, hesitated over the cup in front of her.

She heard Zhang Xingjian say, smiling, “Then why don’t you have any secrets to share with me?”

She looked up.

Zhang Xingjian propped his chin on his hand, studying her, still teasing, half in jest. “You and I haven’t seen each other in a year, and I don’t know what you’ve been doing all this time, just as you don’t know what I’ve been busy with. Yet you show not the slightest interest in learning about my past year. You may not want to know about me, but I’d like to hear about you…

“Except you don’t seem willing to tell me anything.”

He drank another cup.

His eyes shimmered with a faint, glinting light as he idly swirled his cup. “I know you’re not one for talking, and I won’t force you. But these past few days, you’ve had so much to say to Yang Su.”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Three hundred and twelve sentences exactly. That’s just what I overheard—there were plenty of other times you made sure I couldn’t hear, when you were talking as well.”

He added, teasing, “Wutong, if you were sitting for the imperial examinations, that many words would wear your hand to the bone before you ever finished the paper.”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Why aren’t you drinking?”

Startled, Shen Qingwu tossed back the cup she’d been holding for so long in one motion, tilting her head back and draining it in a single swallow.

She showed him the empty cup.

He said nothing.

Impatiently, Shen Qingwu said, “Now what’s wrong?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Nothing really… I just thought you were fond of wine, so I made a point of keeping a jar in the kitchen. But seeing the way you drink it, you don’t seem to think much of it. I suppose it isn’t to your taste.”

Shen Qingwu was startled.

She looked down at her cup.

Her mind had been so full of other things, she hadn’t paid any attention to the taste at all.

After a moment, she said, “I’m not fond of wine.”

Zhang Xingjian nodded. “Mm. I’ve just noticed that.”

Watching his calm demeanor, Shen Qingwu felt an inexplicable pang of guilt, and added, “It’s just that everyone in the army likes to drink, so I picked up the habit along with them.”

Zhang Xingjian asked, “Were you happy, in the army?”

Shen Qingwu felt a rush of disorientation.

She stared at him blankly, and as heat rose slowly to her cheeks, her mind drifted, hazily, back to long ago—

She’d once tied him to a bed, and he’d asked her that exact same question then, too.

At that moment, Zhang Xingjian took hold of her hand. “Wutong.”

She snapped out of her memories.

The young man before her leaned in, holding her hand. He himself seemed unaware of it, but Shen Qingwu, watching closely, noticed the tips of his ears slowly turning red.

A jolt of alarm went through her: was the drug already taking effect, this fast?

Oblivious, Zhang Xingjian continued holding her hand, speaking softly. “I owe you an apology.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I truly had no idea that a single vow would trap you for all these years… I truly didn’t know things would come to this.

“If you have troubles, could you talk to me about them, instead of only ever consulting Yang Su? I really won’t lie to you, I really won’t scheme against you again… I could tell you that every single day, but I don’t know when you’ll finally believe me.”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes shimmered like peach blossom petals catching the light, the glow rippling in the candlelight like water:

“I can help you find a way through this. I can stand beside you. I don’t believe there’s any obstacle between us that can’t be overcome… but stop being with Yang Su. Come love me instead—won’t you?”

He sounded both aggrieved and pitiable. “Where do I fall short of him? I was just… just a few years too late, made one mistake all those years ago… Can this punishment be over now? Can you be with me?”

Shen Qingwu stared into his eyes.

Shen Qingwu said, “Zhang Yuelu, you’re drunk.”

Zhang Xingjian denied it.

He smiled faintly. “I never get drunk.”

He lowered his eyes and told her, with a touch of sorrow, “Long ago, when you disguised yourself as a village girl, I got drunk in front of you… that was a test. I never let myself actually get drunk. Years ago… after everything at the Princess’s residence was over, I wouldn’t even touch things others offered me, not even a little.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Then why did you drink this wine tonight?”

He blinked, looking at her, uncomprehending.

Shen Qingwu said, “Because I was the one who gave it to you?”

Zhang Xingjian kept blinking.

Shen Qingwu said, “That much trust in me?”

The drug’s effects were probably starting to take hold—he was probably starting to sense it.

Shen Qingwu noticed the hand holding hers move slightly, and his lashes trembled with the faintest arc. Without changing his expression, he quietly withdrew his hand and straightened up, sitting back.

Zhang Xingjian said with a smile, “It’s late. You should head back to your room.”

Shen Qingwu sat perfectly still and composed, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.

She said, utterly cold, “What, figured it out?”

Zhang Xingjian looked at her, puzzled. “Figured what out?”

Shen Qingwu laughed coldly. “Why the act? You’re clever enough—dare you tell me you haven’t noticed you’ve had several cups of doctored wine? Dare you tell me you haven’t noticed I drugged you?”

Shen Qingwu said, “What, too afraid to admit it? Too afraid to admit that I drugged you—too afraid to admit that I’ve done wrong by you, that I’ve wronged you?”

Zhang Xingjian sat calmly, undisturbed.

The bright moon hung over the mountains, the waters clear and still.

He remained composed, showing not the slightest trace of distress.

He tilted his head to look at her, smiling faintly. “Then—why did you do it?”

The next moment, he was pushed backward.

Shen Qingwu threw herself into his arms.

He staggered and fell to the floor, and as he lay there gasping for breath, Shen Qingwu’s breath brushed against his lips.

Candlelight flickered against the folding screen; outside, the wind howled, and Yang Su, dressed in his night gear, moved swiftly across the rooftops.

No one remained by the table inside the room; a chair leaned against it, and Zhang Xingjian lay half-sitting on the floor. The candle flame flickered, and Shen Qingwu’s breath, close against him in his arms, seeped slowly between his lips:

“Because I’m out of my mind.

“Because I like doing this to you.”