Zhang Zhe discovered the item was missing halfway back.

Only after encountering Jiang Xuening, his mind had been unsettled, so he couldn’t recall when it had gone missing, or whether it was lost on the road back or left at Prince Linzi’s residence.

So he returned.

In the empty and desolate garden, Jiang Xuening’s figure was no longer there. The pavilion was also empty, with only two attendants cleaning up the messy cups and dishes left in the pavilion.

Seeing Zhang Zhe return, an attendant who had served earlier had some impression of him. He came forward, bowed, and proactively asked: “Lord Zhang, what’s wrong? Did you leave something behind?”

Zhang Zhe asked: “Have you seen a brocade pouch?”

The attendant was immediately stunned: “Is it black with silver patterns?”

Zhang Zhe said: “You’ve seen it?”

The attendant waved his hands repeatedly, but his gaze became somewhat strange, his expression also carrying some difficulty. After hesitating for a moment, he said awkwardly: “I have seen it. But just now when we came here to clean up, we saw the young lady from Vice Minister Jiang’s household standing here, holding a brocade pouch that looked somewhat like the one you’re looking for. Her expression looked… so we didn’t dare go up and ask more.”

“…”

Zhang Zhe stood at the steps, extremely dazed.

Without that pouch at his waist, it felt somewhat empty.

The attendant thus felt that for an instant, the expression of this young court official before him overlapped with that of the Second Miss Jiang he had seen earlier—a strange, wavering heaviness, like a mirror beneath the dark surface of water, making even the refracted light appear dim.

After a long time, Zhang Zhe finally spoke.

He asked: “Has Second Miss Jiang left?”

The attendant nodded: “Yes, she seems to have already returned to the residence with Lord Jiang.”

Zhang Zhe then closed his eyes slightly, silent for a moment, before saying “Thank you.”

The attendant was puzzled but didn’t dare ask more.

Bowing again, when he raised his head he saw this lord walking back out along the garden path. Though it was clearly a summer night with warm breezes intoxicating people, as his back gradually disappeared at the end of the layered corridor lights, it seemed as if he were walking in the cold and lonely autumn frost.

A rain had fallen the day before, washing away the floating dust shrouding the capital’s sky, and the rain had also cleaned the long streets’ road surface.

The sounds of carriages and horses gradually ceased.

So the sound of footsteps lightly treading on the road surface became obvious—empty and cold. In Zhang Zhe’s mind, it seemed as if he had thought of everything, yet as if he had thought of nothing.

Where he lived was quite a distance from where the residences of princes and nobles gathered. Past this place worth its weight in gold, the height of buildings on both sides lowered, and gradually some sounds of laughter and hawking arose.

This morning he had accidentally knocked over the teapot at home, and his mother had reminded him to remember to buy a new one when he returned.

Zhang Zhe then entered a porcelain shop that closed late, selected a simple set of Xing kiln white porcelain tea ware, but heard the porcelain shop’s proprietor accompanying an elegant guest standing before a curio cabinet sighing.

“Clear and pure fine wine, a sea of drunkenness—the glaze color is clear, bright, and thin, truly befitting the plum’s lean bones. Owner Zhou, this plum vase broke unfortunately. I searched for many skilled craftsmen and exerted all efforts to repair it, but could only stop at this point.”

“From a distance it’s no different from a new vase.”

“But it cannot be admired up close. Look at this neck opening—fine cracks barely visible. Even if a skilled craftsman can seize heaven’s work, it’s difficult to fill away old marks. After all, it’s been broken. You originally treasured and loved it, so from now on you must take even more careful care, otherwise any bump or knock will make it fall apart. It cannot be compared to when it was perfectly unified as one when first coming out of the kiln.”

“Alas…”

…

Zhang Zhe looked toward that shelf. A plum vase a foot high stood in the center, sky-blue like jade in color, with delicate body texture, originally possessing natural beauty. But on it were fine cracks—left behind after repair, like scars worn shallow by time yet always difficult to erase.

The clerk at the counter glanced at him: “Does the young master also want to buy a plum vase? Our shop has everything. Would you like to look more?”

Only then did Zhang Zhe slowly withdraw his gaze, saying: “No need.”

Payment made, he brought the tea ware home.

Mother Zhang knew he was attending a banquet today and feared he couldn’t avoid socializing at the table and drinking too much, so she kept hangover soup warm. Seeing him return, she just happened to serve it to him to drink.

Zhang Zhe’s heart felt waves of sourness.

For a moment he even felt utterly dejected, but in the end he still softened his voice, saying to Jiang Shi: “I returned late and made Mother worry again. Your health isn’t good—from now on, please sleep earlier.”

How could Jiang Shi, who had raised this son, not see he was troubled? For many days now, he had been leaving early and returning late, endlessly busy with official duties at the yamen. If he said affairs were truly complex and numerous, that would be one thing, but looking at his appearance, it seemed that besides official business, he was unwilling to think about anything else—more like using this to suppress something.

But he had always been very self-determined since childhood, burying everything in his heart.

Jiang Shi knew little detail about his affairs. Seeing him now acting as if nothing was wrong, she knew that even if she asked, he wouldn’t speak. She simply didn’t ask, only saying: “Even your father back then wasn’t as promising as you. If he knows in the underworld, he’ll surely rest in peace. You, Mother only hopes you’ll be more peaceful, meet a girl you like and start a family—that would be best. As for wealth and honor, though they’re good, if you must chase them, must pursue them, it instead makes you live very tiredly.”

Zhang Zhe didn’t explain.

Jiang Shi sighed and withdrew from this ordinary study, instructing him to also sleep early, then closed the door.

Many case files from the Ministry of Justice had been brought back by him to read.

Now they were all stacked high on his desk.

The flame of the lamp beside them swayed gently, illuminating those lines of ink characters lying on the paper surface, yet unable to enter his eyes.

Zhang Zhe felt this light was glaring, so he moved the lamp farther away.

Thus the characters on the paper also darkened.

He sat rigidly behind the desk, like the gradually drying ink in the inkstone on the desk, not moving at all throughout the night.

The daylight of early summer came very early.

The sounds in the marketplace became clamorous again.

Jiang Shi woke early to cook porridge, thinking Zhang Zhe had gone to court before dawn as usual, so she planned to tidy the rooms and organize the courtyard before the weather grew hot. Who would have thought that when she reached his bedroom door and had just placed her hand on it, the door opened. Inside, the bed and pillows were neat and tidy, clearly showing no one had slept there last night.

Turning her head to look, the study door was tightly closed.

Before dawn had fully broken, there was still a bit of lamplight shining through from inside.

She hesitated, then came to the door and knocked softly: “Aren’t you going to court today?”

Zhang Zhe’s body sitting behind the desk moved slightly, as if finally being pulled back from some dark and cold place, yet he slowly said: “Not today.”

On days when court was called, he had never delayed.

Yesterday he also hadn’t mentioned taking leave today.

Jiang Shi froze, silent for a long while, then said: “Then I’ll go to the market to buy some vegetables. We’ll eat breakfast first before you go to the yamen.”

She gathered her things and went out, carrying a small woven bamboo basket.

The morning market was at its liveliest time.

She picked a two-pound black carp, bought some tender ginger, scallions, chives, and fresh tofu, finally selected a good-looking piece of pork shoulder, put them all in the bamboo basket, and walked home.

When going to the market, the sky had just been dimly bright.

Returning, the morning light was already breaking.

Only when Jiang Shi turned that familiar alley corner and saw her old courtyard, she suddenly discovered that below the moss-covered steps stood a young lady. Wearing a moon-white wide-sleeved flowing immortal dress, her face bare, her complexion appearing pale in the morning light, she was slightly raising her head, seeming somewhat dazed and lost in thought as she gazed at that mottled wooden door.

This early in the morning…

Jiang Shi hesitated, then walked over, smiling and asking: “Miss, are you looking for someone?”

Jiang Xuening turned her head and realized she had been standing for a long time.

She saw Jiang Shi—an ordinary-looking woman. The hardships of raising her son alone had left deeper marks on her face than women of the same age, her temples frosty white, fine wrinkles.

In the bamboo basket hanging from her arm were freshly bought vegetables.

At this moment, she was looking at her with some worry, but her features were very kind and gentle.

He must hate me.

In the depths of this alley, there was only one household. Jiang Xuening had already guessed this woman’s identity. That guilt in her heart surged up like a hot spring. She struggled to smile, yet tears kept falling.

She said: “Excuse me, is this the home of Lord Zhang from the Ministry of Justice?”

So she was here looking for her blockhead son.

Seeing such a beautiful young lady radiant as a celestial being, Jiang Shi hadn’t even thought of connecting her with Zhang Zhe. But seeing her tears fall after just two sentences, she remembered Zhang Zhe’s unusual behavior last night and this morning, and thought to herself: That boy is as stubborn as an elm stump—don’t tell me he’s provoked this young lady and made her sad?

Things were fine when in Henan, but coming to the capital he’s learned badly!

If he really did something wicked, she’d get the family discipline rod and give him a good beating on behalf of his short-lived father!

“Yes, yes, this is it.” Jiang Shi couldn’t help being flustered, hurrying to say, “He didn’t go to court today and is in the study. Please come in quickly, I’ll call him for you!”

She went forward to open the door, inviting Jiang Xuening to enter.

Then, forgetting even to put down the bamboo basket on her arm, she was about to knock on the study door that hadn’t opened all night to have Zhang Zhe come out.

Unexpectedly, before she could even walk up the steps, the originally tightly closed room door actually opened.

Zhang Zhe’s hand rested on the doorframe, standing in the doorway.

The ink-blue robe hung on his body. Though he still held himself upright and straight, it gave people a feeling of silent desolation. He quietly looked toward Jiang Xuening standing in this simple small courtyard. After a long time, he finally said: “Second Miss Jiang, please come in.”

Jiang Xuening also looked at him for a long while before lifting her foot to walk up the steps.

When she reached the door, Zhang Zhe moved aside to let her in.

She entered the room.

Only then did Zhang Zhe say a word to Jiang Shi before turning back and closing the door.

Two people who hadn’t slept all night sat facing each other.

The tea was stale from last night, already cold.

On the desk piled with case files, a wisp of blue smoke floated faintly from the tip of the lamp wick—it had burned out. The newly risen sun from the east shone slantingly onto this low lacquered table by the window, dispelling some of the cold air.

Jiang Xuening gazed at him.

But Zhang Zhe lowered his eyes.

She said softly: “Today should be the morning court session, yet Lord Zhang is at home, as if knowing I would come—were you waiting for me?”

Zhang Zhe was silent.

Jiang Xuening’s hands crossed over her knees as she knelt, her entire bearing calm, smiling as she said: “I once confessed I was interested in Lord Zhang. Lord Zhang said he already had someone in his heart. That day I was in a daze, not at all my usual competitive nature—I actually forgot to ask. I wonder who this young lady Lord Zhang fancies actually is?”

Zhang Zhe’s palms beneath the desk quietly clenched tight.

He said: “A person from the capital, from an ordinary family.”

So Zhang Zhe could also lie, could also deceive people.

Jiang Xuening blinked and asked again: “Lord Zhang only recently broke off his engagement with Miss Yao, yet has already transferred his affections to this person. Though she’s from an ordinary family, I imagine her talent and beauty must be quite good, and her temperament also superior to mine?”

Only after a long while did Zhang Zhe say: “Second Miss Jiang is impeccable. It’s only that I am of humble birth and dare not delay the young lady’s lifetime. Her talent and beauty cannot compare to yours, her temperament is also not extremely good, only…”

Jiang Xuening asked: “Only what?”

Zhang Zhe finally raised his eyes to look at her, restrained and forbearing, but his heart was extraordinarily desolate. Gazing into her pupils, as if wanting to carve this face into the bottom of his heart, he slowly said: “Only I treasure and love her.”

Jiang Xuening suddenly laughed out loud: “Then what is her name?”

Zhang Zhe fell into silent speechlessness.

Jiang Xuening suddenly hated him so much, unable even to maintain that bit of false smile. She simply took out the pouch she had hidden in her sleeve for so long and looked at all night, gently placing it on the desk. That thin page of paper was unfolded and pressed on the pouch as she said: “Lord Zhang cannot say it, so shall I tell you?”

Zhang Zhe closed his eyes.

But Jiang Xuening, word by word, almost viciously, said to him with reddened eyes: “The person you like has neither talent nor beauty, is thoroughly bad, is not a good person—her surname is Jiang, her name is Jiang Xuening!”

I turn my heart toward the bright moon.

On that page of paper, rarely neat ink marks had already permeated through, yet were not yet old.

But Zhang Zhe’s heart was already riddled with holes.

Jiang Xuening stubbornly demanded: “How can you say you don’t like me? How dare you say you don’t like me?”

Zhang Zhe thus thought of the previous life.

The vivid her, the brilliant her, the flamboyant her, the willful her. At that time, he couldn’t control that transgressive heart and wanted to approach her. But in the end…

The jade mountain toppled, the brocade screen shattered.

It was as if she had dissected that heart from his chest with her sharp words, bloody on the knife’s edge. A thousand kinds of bitterness surged to his throat, then fell back down, his entire belly full of sourness and bitterness.

The plum vase had after all been broken.

He gazed at her, as if looking from the previous life to this life, finally still calling her in a low, hoarse voice: “Your Majesty…”

Your Majesty.

How could this person before her call her “Your Majesty”?

Jiang Xuening first felt a kind of confusion, then swaying dizziness. Those two barely audible words transmitted from her ears to her heart. The Zhang Zhe before her eyes swayed gently, the daylight shining in was a ghastly white, it seemed as if mist was rising in the room, making everything around blurry and unclear, even rumbling chaotically.

She subconsciously shook her head.

How could it be?

She must have heard wrong…

But a voice inside her heart laughed coldly: You know, you should have known long ago! In this life, how long have you known each other? Why would he have such deep feelings and righteousness for you, liking you yet still hiding it from you? You didn’t hear wrong!

A piercing heart pain, along with endless guilt, bound her, making her collapse in dejection.

In this moment, she understood everything.

It was as if there were towering mountains, deep abysses, crushing her, letting her fall. She ultimately couldn’t bear it. She buried her head, covered her face, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Zhang Zhe wordlessly walked over, only feeling like he was that cruel executioner who had breached her last line of defense.

All the events of past and present life converged like a flood.

He half-knelt beside her, his Adam’s apple moving slightly, finally permitting himself this moment’s transgression, gently embracing her as he said: “It’s this subject’s fault, it’s this subject’s fault…”

She cried: “You didn’t tell me earlier, you deceived me…”

Zhang Zhe said: “This subject deceived Your Majesty.”

Jiang Xuening hated herself. Recalling her earlier questioning, she only felt herself absurd and ridiculous. How was she worthy?

Her tears all fell on Zhang Zhe’s chest, soaking his lapels, submerging his heart within, also making him confirm that he indeed shouldn’t have told her: “Your Majesty, this subject also feared. Feared that if you knew, you would know that before your eyes is the Zhang Zhe from the previous life.”

Once she knew, past events would come flooding in, giving birth to endless guilt.

She wanted freedom, wanted her wishes fulfilled.

But this guilt was enough to crush and defeat someone who had gradually cast off past events. Everyone she encountered was a new person—only he was her old burden. And the chasm split open by too heavy a past, even if two people tried their utmost to fill it, how could it be mended as new?

Living that way—how exhausting would that be?

When she was before him, she was not at all like her true self.