Rain and mist stretched across the sky.

The steward was saying, “This way — the master has arranged guest rooms for the two of you…”

The steward turned back and found, to his astonishment, that no one was behind him anymore.

While the steward hadn’t been paying attention, Shen Qingwu and Zhang Xingjian had stopped to shelter from the rain and talk beneath the corner of a covered walkway.

Shen Qingwu took off her rain hat and, irritated, brought up the matter of his teacher’s daughter.

Shen Qingwu said, “Even if you say you won’t forgive me, you’re still mine.”

Behind the lush, rain-soaked trees, Zhang Xingjian rested his chin on his hand, gazing thoughtfully at the endless threads of rain.

Listening to Shen Qingwu’s words, a thought suddenly rose in him: Shen Qingwu wouldn’t bow her head to him, didn’t love him enough — if he added a little stimulus from a third party, would she feel some sense of urgency, would she care about him more, would she put away those thorns of hers that so often wounded him?

Shen Qingwu said, “Zhang Yuelu, I’m talking to you! Are you even listening?”

Zhang Xingjian turned back, his gaze crossing the hazy curtain of rain, a faint mist seeming to drift in his own eyes as well.

His smile grew faint. “Jealous?”

Shen Qingwu froze.

Shen Qingwu gritted her teeth. “As if.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Afraid I’ll be taken from you? Because you don’t love me enough yourself, and you’re worried someone else might come along to love me instead?”

Shen Qingwu scoffed.

Zhang Xingjian said, unruffled, “Since neither is true, then what is Second Young Lady Shen afraid of?”

Shen Qingwu said, “I’m afraid you won’t keep to proper bounds.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “When have I ever failed to keep to proper bounds?”

Shen Qingwu fell silent, forced to admit he was telling the truth—

His former fiancée, Shen Qingye, was a delicate beauty, always frail and sickly.

The Eastern Capital had no shortage of lovely young women, every bit the equal of his teacher’s daughter.

Since meeting Zhang Xingjian, Shen Qingwu had made only two brief trips back to the Eastern Capital. Each time, she’d heard from others no end of talk — young women swooning over Zhang Xingjian, and envying Shen Qingye for having him.

And yet, in all that, Shen Qingwu had never once heard so much as a whisper of scandal about Third Young Master Zhang.

Among that crowd of dissolute, pleasure-chasing young nobles, it was precisely Zhang Yuelu’s clean, disciplined restraint that had earned him the nickname “the Moon,” and rightly so.

Could such restraint really be credited only to his elder sister Zhang Wenbi’s strict watch over her younger brother, and not at all to Zhang Xingjian himself?

He had always known exactly how far to go, and no further.

Just as before… when he didn’t want her to misunderstand, he gave her not the slightest opening. When he wanted her to misunderstand, he left her just enough room.

Infuriating.

Why, knowing all this perfectly well, did Shen Qingwu still feel this irritation over it?

Through the curtain of rain, Zhang Xingjian watched her.

Zhang Xingjian asked, “Could it be you’re afraid of Miss Jiang Ru?”

His teacher’s surname was Jiang, and his daughter’s name was Runiang. There was nothing wrong with calling her that — yet it struck a strange thorn in Shen Qingwu’s heart, leaving her oddly unsettled.

Shen Qingwu said coldly, “She’s just a weak, delicate girl. Why would I be afraid of her?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Then there’s nothing to it — Second Young Lady Shen, look, I’ve come to see my teacher on real business. I can assure you, I’ll keep the bigger picture in mind, and nothing will happen between me and Miss Jiang…”

Shen Qingwu shot back, “So if you weren’t minding the bigger picture, something would happen between you and Miss Jiang?”

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow.

He smiled. “Whatever gives you that idea, Second Young Lady Shen?”

That teasing, sly look of his, eyes warm with amusement… what was a man doing looking like that?

Even Bo Rong had never looked at her quite like that.

Shen Qingwu turned her face away, glaring resentfully at the rain along the horizon.

Jiang Runiang definitely wanted him.

No doubt about it.

Zhang Xingjian asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Shen Qingwu, still sulking, spoke without thinking it through. “Thinking that even Bo Rong was never as good-looking as you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she remembered she’d brought up “Bo Rong,” and her heart tensed.

She replayed her own words and decided it could pass as simply praising Zhang Xingjian’s looks — her original meaning, that Bo Rong had never been so shamelessly flirtatious with women, wasn’t really that obvious.

Fortunate that she wasn’t very articulate, that she wasn’t good with words.

Maybe Zhang Xingjian hadn’t caught it.

And yet, even as Shen Qingwu clung to that faint hope, she felt the air around them turn cold in an instant.

She slowly turned her head, looking back at him, and met Zhang Xingjian’s dark, unreadable eyes.

Rain pattered down, drumming against the blue-gray tiles. A cool gust passed, and he gave a short, cold laugh.

Shen Qingwu knew at once: he’d caught the meaning beneath her words, caught that she’d been putting him down. She’d phrased it so vaguely — how had he heard it?

The world of clever people?

Zhang Xingjian had been hesitating over whether this plan to make her jealous was even a good idea — but the moment Shen Qingwu brought up Bo Rong, his hesitation vanished.

She had her so-called “dislike” for Bo Rong, and yet thought of him constantly all the same.

What was the harm in him adding one more admirer of his own, giving her a little something to be stirred up over?

Zhang Xingjian’s expression cooled. “I do need to stay here a few days to discuss some matters with my teacher. If Second Young Lady Shen finds it unpleasant, feel free to leave on your own.”

Shen Qingwu retorted, “You and I are traveling together. How could I possibly leave? Wherever you stay, I stay.”

Zhang Xingjian said flatly, “Then don’t concern yourself with my business.”

Shen Qingwu said, “You keep yourself in check, and of course I won’t make it my business.”

Zhang Xingjian gave her a long look, then smiled. “I certainly will. You’d better do the same.”

Shen Qingwu was furious!

She hated her own clumsy tongue, trembling with anger, unable to out-argue him, always led along by him. A scoundrel like him, and he still expected an apology from her — he could dream on!

Did he think he was so irresistible that every woman in the world was chasing after him? Maybe Jiang Runiang didn’t even like him at all! What did he have to be so smug about!

Just as Shen Qingwu was working herself up to a proper retort, the steward’s voice drifted over from a distance. “Third Young Master Zhang, Miss Shen… where did you two run off to?”

And so Shen Qingwu never managed to spit out her insult. Zhang Xingjian called back a reply, and the elderly steward came hurrying over to rejoin them.

Shen Qingwu grew even more annoyed—

But Jiang Runiang was, without a doubt, interested in Zhang Xingjian.

Shen Qingwu recognized that look.

She’d seen it on Zhang Xingjian’s own face, on Bo Rong’s, and in Li Linge’s eyes as well.

Zhang Xingjian sat with his teacher in the tea room discussing state affairs, while Shen Qingwu stood outside beneath a tree, arms around her knees, watching. Wind stirred the leaves; in the span of a single short hour, Jiang Runiang sent her maid in and out again and again — bringing tea, taking it away, delivering plates of pastries, then a bowl of simmered soup.

The window stood open. Through it, Shen Qingwu watched the young woman fawning over her father, and with her keen hearing, caught every word clearly—

Jiang Runiang said, “Father, we have a guest, so I made pastries myself in the kitchen — my hands even got burned.”

Old Jiang, keeping his face stern, said, “We have a guest present. No acting spoiled.”

Jiang Runiang said, “How is Brother Yuelu an outsider? Brother Yuelu, you saw me when I was little — do you remember me?”

Outside the window, Shen Qingwu felt a shiver run through her: Brother Yuelu — how nauseating that sounded.

Probably the people inside the room found it just as nauseating.

Old Jiang shook his head. “What nonsense are you calling him, my foolish girl? Zhang Yuelu is the name of a constellation — how can it be split apart and called out so casually?”

Outside, understanding suddenly dawned on Shen Qingwu — so “Zhang Yuelu” was the name of a constellation. No wonder his sister always called him “Zhang Yuelu” in full, never just “Yuelu.”

Fortunately, though uneducated, Shen Qingwu was stubborn by nature, and had always called him “Zhang Yuelu” in full — sparing her the embarrassment of ever calling him “Brother Yuelu.”

But inside the room, Jiang Runiang pouted. “Father, what are you talking about? When have I ever called him wrong? Of course I know Zhang Yuelu is a constellation, but Brother Zhang is a person too. I called him ‘Brother Yuelu’ when I was little, and Brother Yuelu never minded.”

She blinked, staring at Zhang Xingjian. “Brother Yuelu doesn’t mind now either, does he?”

Zhang Xingjian, gentle and composed, smiled. “The affection of childhood was certainly deep, but you were young and didn’t know better back then. Now that you’re grown, it would be better to change it.”

Jiang Runiang froze for a moment, then obediently switched to “Third Brother” — an address intimate enough that even Zhang Xingjian could find nothing to object to.

As Jiang Runiang eagerly offered him tea, he lifted the cup and drank.

At that moment, someone walked in through the open door.

Jiang Runiang noticed that, as that person entered, Third Young Master Zhang’s downcast lashes gave the faintest tremor, lifting just slightly — and the shimmering light in his eyes was dazzlingly beautiful.

Jiang Runiang turned to look, and saw it was that Miss Shen who’d been traveling with Third Young Master Zhang.

She’d heard the name was Shen Qingwu, that she seemed connected somehow to the Shen family of the Eastern Capital, and her father had said she was the only female general in the entire dynasty.

Jiang Runiang felt a stir of unease.

She smiled sweetly and had her maid pour tea and set out pastries for the newly arrived Shen Qingwu. “Sister Shen, do try this tea — I steeped it with meltwater from last winter’s snow.”

Shen Qingwu sat down and drank.

Old Jiang laughed. “This girl’s being so eager today. Usually you can’t get so much as a cup of tea out of her.”

He secretly praised his own daughter: “Most days she’s lazy, won’t study properly, won’t do her needlework properly, spends all day chasing butterflies and playing polo, nothing serious about her at all. Lucky she’s got clever hands, at least — can brew tea, can cook. Marry her and you won’t starve, if nothing else!”

Jiang Runiang pouted.

Jiang Runiang chattered brightly, one moment talking with her father, the next putting on a demure, bashful, love-struck act in front of Zhang Xingjian.

She kept an eye on everything at once, glancing at Shen Qingwu. “Sister, how’s the tea?”

Shen Qingwu blinked.

She’d already gulped down three or four cups, purely to quench her thirst.

Shen Qingwu answered, “Good.”

Jiang Runiang said, “Seems my skill still isn’t good enough to satisfy you, Sister. In this, I suppose I fall short of Third Brother… Third Brother, what do you think of this tea?”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “I don’t really know tea.”

Jiang Runiang froze.

She glanced at her father, then at Shen Qingwu, and said, disappointed, “But Father said this was your favorite kind of tea…”

Old Jiang coughed awkwardly.

Zhang Xingjian offered an apology to Old Jiang. “It’s my own lack of learning — I’ve wasted my teacher’s good intentions…”

But Old Jiang knew perfectly well that Zhang Yuelu was no man of shallow learning. This student of his had simply always been in the habit of playing dumb, always careful to keep just the right distance — never giving offense, but never giving any hope either.

Old Jiang sighed inwardly, thinking the young man simply hadn’t taken a liking to his daughter—

But Jiang Runiang didn’t see it that way at all.

Something felt strange to Shen Qingwu.

She couldn’t put her finger on this subtle feeling.

While drinking tea, Jiang Runiang had given all of it to her, had even explained it to her — which left her briefly surprised, and pleased.

At dinner, seeing that Shen Qingwu liked something, Jiang Runiang had a plate of overly sweet pastries placed close to her when the maids set out the dishes.

At times Shen Qingwu found it annoying how Jiang Runiang kept clinging to Zhang Xingjian, talking his ear off, and felt she needed to keep watch nearby; at other times she thought Jiang Runiang was genuinely kind, giving her so many pastries…

She put her head down and ate happily, thoroughly enjoying herself.

At the table, Zhang Xingjian glanced up and gave her a brief look.

That look lingered a moment too long, and Jiang Runiang noticed immediately. “I nearly forgot about Third Brother.”

Jiang Runiang smiled at her bewildered father. “Third Brother likes sweet pastries too — I noticed that when we were little.”

Old Jiang said, “Oh…”

Jiang Runiang had the maids rearrange the plates, and several exquisitely arranged pastries were carried over to Zhang Xingjian’s side.

Zhang Xingjian glanced at the seating arrangement, then looked down at the pastries before him. One glance, and he understood the whole scheme.

He gave a silent smile, then looked up at the fool eating away with her head down, oblivious — everyone else had made their moves plain, and there she was, still just thinking about food.

Zhang Xingjian decided to give the fool a little nudge.

Zhang Xingjian picked up a jade-white cake, examined it for a moment. “This must be soft fragrant cake, isn’t it? Specially carved with a pattern — a bit different from the Suzhou style, more refined.”

Jiang Runiang lit up with delight. “Third Brother noticed?”

Listening to the two of them go back and forth like brother and sister, Shen Qingwu felt a flicker of displeasure.

She looked up and saw Jiang Runiang and Zhang Xingjian earnestly discussing pastries, and felt a stir of unease. She listened for a while, dizzied by a jumble of pastry names she couldn’t follow, but at least gathered that Jiang Runiang really was skilled in the kitchen.

Shen Qingwu picked up a pastry from her own plate and flung it across the table toward Zhang Xingjian.

It arced through the air, sailing halfway across the table, and landed neatly on Zhang Xingjian’s plate.

Shen Qingwu felt it necessary to butter him up a little.

She swallowed the pastry in her mouth and said, somewhat garbled, “This kind is good too!”

Zhang Xingjian glanced at her.

He burst out laughing.

He tried a bite and said, “Indeed it is.”

Shen Qingwu, satisfied, sat back. Jiang Runiang glanced at her, then kicked her father under the table.

Old Jiang, who’d been playing dumb, was startled into a cough by his daughter’s kick. He laughed dryly. “Runiang made all of this… my daughter really is something.”

—

That night, returning to their guest rooms.

Zhang Xingjian was given quarters right next to the courtyard where Old Jiang and Jiang Runiang lived, while Shen Qingwu was placed in the courtyard farthest from him.

Shen Qingwu said, “Is that really necessary? I’ll take any room, even the stables would do. I can’t be too far from Zhang Yuelu.”

She still remembered her duty.

But hearing this, Jiang Runiang said, “Sister, you’re a general — how could you possibly make do with just anything? There is a room closer, but it was damaged in an earlier rainstorm and never repaired — that’s my father’s fault entirely. Sister, how could I let you settle for something inferior?”

Jiang Runiang explained that the courtyard in question was reserved for honored guests, and as a general, Shen Qingwu deserved the finest lodgings.

Shen Qingwu, flattered, felt herself floating.

A few sweet words from Jiang Runiang, and she was thoroughly charmed, head spinning. She thought this family was truly warm and hospitable, so sincere toward their guests… though she disliked how Jiang Runiang kept clinging to Zhang Xingjian, she found herself genuinely curious what quarters fit for an honored guest looked like.

Shen Qingwu was neatly talked away.

Zhang Xingjian gave a silent smile.

He politely declined Old Jiang’s offer to have his daughter escort him back to his rooms, and walked back alone. Partway there, he even dismissed the servant following him, carrying his own lantern through the night alone.

The night wind rustled through the leaves.

Amid the soft rustling, he caught sight of a figure in the corner of the covered walkway. Zhang Xingjian turned his face toward the other end of the walkway and saw Shen Qingwu drop lightly down from the eaves and come to stand beside him.

Zhang Xingjian had meant to ignore her.

But she kept following him, and then hiccuped.

Zhang Xingjian turned back and glanced at her.

He finally asked, “How were the honored guest’s quarters?”

Shen Qingwu had already gone to take a look around.

She hadn’t been able to make out anything special about it, and suspected it was simply her own lack of refinement — that she couldn’t appreciate the exquisite taste of these aristocratic families.

Shen Qingwu said, “Better than yours, anyway.”

Zhang Xingjian said, unhurried, “Is that so.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Don’t you think… that Jiang Runiang is strange?”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “Strange how?”

Shen Qingwu couldn’t say.

But she was overbearing about it.

She reached out and grabbed Zhang Xingjian’s hand, forcing him to keep talking to her.

She said, imperious and demanding, “I don’t know what’s strange about her, but you tell me.”

Zhang Xingjian marveled at that animal-sharp instinct of hers.

Marveled that she could sense something was wrong without knowing why.

Zhang Xingjian said, “What, need something from me? Let’s hear an apology first.”

Shen Qingwu’s lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come.

Zhang Xingjian gave a short laugh, turned a corner, the lantern’s shadow swaying — and made to walk away.

Shen Qingwu still followed, gripping his wrist.

She wouldn’t apologize, but she wouldn’t leave either — she simply kept following him.

They entered his courtyard, reached his door, and still she trailed behind him.

Zhang Xingjian turned to look at her. “If you won’t apologize, I won’t invite you in.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Who wants to go in anyway.”

The muscles in Zhang Xingjian’s cheek tightened slightly, as though he’d clenched his teeth. He gave this impossibly stubborn woman a long look, felt his patience fraying, and shut the door in her face.

He tossed the lantern to the ground, drank down a couple mouthfuls of cold tea, and only then did he calm somewhat.

He sat for a while, forehead propped on his hand, then suddenly stood.

He walked to the door and threw it open — and, sure enough, there stood Shen Qingwu just outside. Her back was to the door, her face turned up toward the moon.

She hadn’t expected him to open the door, and turned back somewhat startled.

Zhang Xingjian looked at her, expressionless.

He said through gritted teeth, “If I don’t help you, you won’t leave?”

Shen Qingwu said, “…That’s not what I meant.”

She glanced at him cautiously, gauging. “Are you angry?”

There was some confusion in her eyes, some flustered uncertainty.

She was only standing here, waiting. Waiting for dawn, waiting for him to come out, waiting for him to answer the question troubling her.

Zhang Xingjian was a very clever man. She knew that whenever she didn’t understand something, she could ask him.

Standing outside the door, waiting for him, she was still trying to summon the courage to overcome the weight of it all — wondering whether she ought to apologize.

That single word, sorry — it would take everything in her to force it out.

She had no other motives.

Why did his face look so unhappy?—

Zhang Xingjian looked at her for a long moment, then finally gave a helpless smile.

Sometimes he hated her stubbornness; other times he felt tender toward it.

Just as he’d known, sitting in his room drinking tea to calm himself, that Shen Qingwu would wait for him undisturbed for as long as it took.

He found himself, with some exasperation, already making excuses for her — if that night in the camp hadn’t had soldiers patrolling back and forth, maybe Shen Qingwu would have waited outside his tent indefinitely, rather than turning and leaving.

She really was his weakness.

There was nothing he could do about it.

Perhaps… before she ever managed to apologize, it would be he who couldn’t hold out and gave in first.

The two of them stood facing off at the door.

Shen Qingwu took a slow step forward, tentatively reaching out to tug at the hem of his robe.

He looked down at her.

His expression was still not particularly good.

But he didn’t push her away.

Shen Qingwu stepped closer, wrapped her arms around him, held him briefly, and said softly, “What are you so upset about?”

Zhang Xingjian’s lashes trembled, and he closed his eyes.

The moment she came and held him, something in him softened. And when she pulled back after that brief embrace, about to step away, he couldn’t help himself — he reached out and caught her wrist.

Shen Qingwu blinked.

Zhang Xingjian said, resigned, “Come in, then. Let’s talk.”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes lit up at once.

In that instant, her eyes looked like a sky bursting with fireworks, brilliant in a way that made Zhang Xingjian’s heart beat faster.

Zhang Xingjian fought hard against the temptation—

Inside, with the lamp lit, Shen Qingwu sat obediently, though her gaze couldn’t help wandering around the room.

Zhang Xingjian came over, holding a candlestick. “What are you looking at?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Your room is different from mine. The furniture in here is really old. Is there some meaning to that?”

Zhang Xingjian said flatly, “Just an old family habit, nothing more.”

Preferring the worn over the new, believing the oldest things were always best — he summed it up bluntly as an “old habit.” Shen Qingwu wasn’t sure she fully understood, but she nodded gravely all the same.

Zhang Xingjian found this amusing.

He sat down, chin propped on his hand, looking at her. “So curious about my room? Want to stay?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Can I stay?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “No.”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

She glared at him, but couldn’t help laughing all the same. Her eyes curved slightly, a little like the way he usually looked — though neither of them noticed the resemblance.

Only, the air between them wasn’t so tense anymore.

Shen Qingwu said, “Really, I think Jiang Runiang is strange. I want you to help me figure out — is something wrong with me? Why do I feel like she’s targeting me?”

Zhang Xingjian lowered his eyes and drank his tea, listening to her confusion. “How could she possibly target me? She’s been perfectly nice to me. I find that… especially strange.”

Shen Qingwu said, “She poured me tea, said it was fine tea. Something about meltwater from last winter, terribly precious.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “And then what did she say?”

Shen Qingwu paused.

Shen Qingwu said, “She didn’t say anything else to me. She went off to please you, asking if the tea was fragrant.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “You didn’t actually know how the tea was, did you?”

Shen Qingwu nodded.

Zhang Xingjian set down his cup. “But I did.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “Everyone at that table understood tea — my teacher, Miss Jiang, myself. You were the only one who genuinely didn’t.”

Zhang Xingjian said gently, “Think about it — if I’d started discussing tea with them at the time, how would you have felt?”

Shen Qingwu froze.

She would have felt out of place.

She would have seen the enormous gap between herself and Zhang Xingjian — a rift wider than a crack in the sky, the distance between cloud and mud.

If the three of them had savored the tea with such relish while she sat there gulping it down like water… Shen Qingwu fell silent.

Shen Qingwu suddenly said, “At dinner, she gave me pastries.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “The ones placed in front of me were the finest ones. What you were eating — none of it took any real thought.”

Shen Qingwu said flatly, “Just to keep my mouth full?”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “Perhaps also to fill you up until you felt embarrassed by your own appetite, and kept your distance from me.”

Zhang Xingjian added, “Perhaps also to let people see how coarse you are, how dull, how ill-suited you are to fit in. To make my teacher frown a little more.”

Shen Qingwu said, “You’re reading too much into it.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “You’re reading too little into it.”

Shen Qingwu sat frozen for a long moment.

She looked up and said, “All this scheming of yours — it’s really tedious.”

She glared at him fiercely, then stood up, furious. “The most infuriating one here is you!”

Zhang Xingjian looked baffled.

Zhang Xingjian said, “What did I do?”

Shen Qingwu vented at him, unreasonably. “You knew everything, and you didn’t say a word, just sat back and watched the show! Watching her, watching her…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Watching her bully you?”

Zhang Xingjian tempted her. “Want me to get revenge for you?”

Shen Qingwu scoffed coldly. “No need.”

She calmed herself. “It’s just childish games. I won’t waste any thought on it.”

Zhang Xingjian looked at her, thinking: but your face is livid and your fists are clenched — that doesn’t look much like “not wasting any thought on it.”

Shen Qingwu suddenly turned to look at him.

Zhang Xingjian said hastily, “Wutong, I’m on your side. I never went along with Jiang Runiang against you.”

He called her “Wutong” in an attempt to appease her.

But the furious Shen Qingwu didn’t even notice.

Shen Qingwu said, baffled, “Doesn’t she like me? Why is she treating me this way?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Don’t you dislike her too?”

Shen Qingwu said, “That’s… that’s just my bad temper. But I dislike her without actually doing anything about it.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “Wutong, not everyone holds themselves to such strict principles as you do.”

Shen Qingwu went on, “How does she even know that I, that you and I…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Hm?”

Shen Qingwu fell silent.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Perhaps she’s noticed that I’m fond of you?”

Feelings were hard to hide.

Desire was hard to make disappear.

He lowered his head, sighing with a faint laugh, suppressing the tenderness in his eyes.

Shen Qingwu headed for the door.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Where are you going?”

Afraid she might do something reckless, he tried, “Why don’t you stay?”

Shen Qingwu said, “I have things to take care of. No need for you to worry about it.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “No fighting, no violence!”

The door slammed shut, sealing Zhang Xingjian inside.

Shen Qingwu turned back, forcing her face into an unnaturally sweet expression, mimicking Jiang Runiang’s manner from earlier that day, and smiled sweetly at him through the door. “Brother Yuelu, Third Brother, how could I ever resort to fighting and violence? Just wait for my good news!”

Zhang Xingjian was stunned, and suddenly began to cough—

The next day, Zhang Xingjian learned that Jiang Runiang wouldn’t be able to come pour tea for him and his teacher.

Because… Jiang Runiang had come down with a stomach ailment.