He Yan stared blankly at the mandarin duck teapot in her hands.
A voice pulled her thoughts back to the present. “Don’t know how to use it?”
She looked up to see the young man in dark blue robes already seated on the stool by her bed, taking the pot back from her hands.
The mandarin duck teapot contained a hidden mechanism – it could hold two different types of liquid, making it an essential tool for poisoning. Xiao Jue took a piece of white cloth, poured a little, then poured some more. First came the medicinal liquid, followed by the medicinal powder. There was a small spoon embedded near the handle. Xiao Jue removed it and slowly mixed everything.
As he lowered his eyes to perform these tasks, his long eyelashes cast shadows, and his profile was strikingly handsome, still retaining some of the refinement from his younger years. The sight was mesmerizing – one could hardly tell if this was happening in Liangzhou Guard or thousands of miles away at Xian Chang Academy.
While He Yan was lost in thought, he had already prepared the medicinal paste on the white cloth and tossed it to her, his tone extremely cold: “Apply it yourself.”
“Oh,” He Yan had expected this, muttering under her breath, “Not like I was expecting your help anyway.”
He heard her and fixed her with a half-mocking stare: “Wouldn’t dare interfere with your preservation of virtue.”
“Good that you understand.” He Yan smiled sweetly, “Still, thank you, Commander, for such precious medicine.”
“The garrison is short on medical supplies unless you want to die,” he replied.
He Yan looked at him earnestly: “Well, that means you saved my life. Never thought Commander would be someone who cherishes delicate flowers.”
Xiao Jue sneered, “Nonsense,” and stood up to leave.
Only after He Yan saw he had truly left did she lean back against the headboard and let out a soft sigh. Xiao Jue’s medicine was very effective – cool and soothing, relieving much of the pain once applied.
He Yan looked at the teapot, her thoughts drifting far away.
On that snowy night when she was fourteen, Xiao Jue hadn’t been as cold as he was now. At least when she said “I don’t know how to use it” back then, he not only helped her open the mandarin duck teapot but also personally applied the medicine for her.
Strange – while the scene had become blurry in her memory, Xiao Jue’s visit today brought back all those forgotten details, unfolding before He Yan’s eyes as if they had just happened, incredibly clear.
She sat on the stone bench in the courtyard, and the usually lazy and indifferent young man showed rare patience in applying medicine for her. His features were as fine as a painting, his profile right before her, close enough that she could feel his warm breath, stripped of its usual sharpness, bringing a soft warmth that completely enveloped her shivering heart.
The mask covered her face, hiding her expression from him, concealing the flutter in her heart at that moment.
It would be hard for anyone not to be moved by someone like him, especially when such a cold person showed tenderness – even the hardest heart would skip a beat. He Yan was young then, with no resistance at all, completely defenseless in that instant.
After applying the medicine, he left, and He Yan called out softly: “Your medicine.”
“Keep it,” the young man answered carelessly, “You’re so stupid, you’ll probably get hurt plenty more times. Better keep it for yourself.”
His words proved prophetic – later, she indeed had countless opportunities to get injured. The medicine in the mandarin duck teapot was eventually used up, and she regrettably lost the pot itself during a battle.
The next day, when the young students went to the academy for lessons, they found their calligraphy practice sheets in their desks soaked with water, the characters unrecognizable, causing immediate chaos.
“Who did this? Come out and I guarantee I won’t beat you to death!” they roared furiously.
“That’s simple enough. Just see whose practice sheets are clean, look among them, and we’ll find whoever has a grudge against us,” someone suggested cleverly.
He Yan’s heart tightened with regret. No wonder they called her stupid – she hadn’t even thought of this. Her practice sheets were clean and neat. With just a quick check, wouldn’t they find out it was her?
Well, what’s done is done – a real man owns up to his actions. She steeled herself, resigned to her fate, watching as those few young men called for students to take out their practice sheets for inspection.
They were almost at her desk.
He Yan gathered her courage, just about to stand up and shout “I did it,” when suddenly, someone entered and slammed their books on the desk.
The noise was so loud that everyone turned to look. They saw a handsome young man in white robes leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression lazy and casual as he said carelessly, “I did it.”
There was an uproar.
“Huai-Huaijin Brother, did you do it?” someone asked timidly.
Xiao Huaijin was not He Runfei – who in the capital would dare offend him? Not only did the Xiao family’s influence crush people, but even the teachers protected him, and the Emperor himself praised him.
“Yes, I did,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“But why?” the person asked with a dejected face.
“No reason,” the young man glanced at him, responding indifferently, “My hand slipped.”
“Pft!” He Yan couldn’t help but laugh, then quickly turned away nonchalantly when she noticed everyone’s stares.
And after that?
After that, the matter was dropped. Because it was Xiao Huaijin, others didn’t dare say anything and could only accept their bad luck.
With a creak, the door opened and Shen Muxue entered. She took away the empty medicine bowl and water basin, advised He Yan not to press on her wound, and then left.
Through the narrow window of the room, she could see a corner of the sky, where a bright moon hung among brilliant stars.
She murmured, “Today is the Seventh Night Festival…”
A festival she had never truly celebrated. Before, she was disguised as a man, so such festivals had nothing to do with her. Later, after marrying Xu Zhiheng, she had looked forward to it at first. No matter how long she had posed as a man when dressed as a woman, she only wanted to be like ordinary girls – going to the riverside with her beloved to release flower boats, pray to the weaver maiden, steam special pastries, and visit temple fairs. She heard there were even fireflies on the mountain.
She gathered her courage and made her first request to Xu Zhiheng. He smiled and agreed, “Alright.”
But before the Seventh Night Festival arrived, she lost her eyesight. So this matter seemed to be forgotten – Xu Zhiheng never brought it up again, and He Yan didn’t mention it either, thinking he was probably too worried about her illness to think about such things. Until the next day when He Wanru passed by her door, smiling as she asked someone to carefully store the lantern Xu Zhiheng had given her the day before.
Only then did she learn that on the Seventh Night Festival, Xu Zhiheng wasn’t at home – not because of official business, but because he had gone to the temple fair with He Wanru.
Life’s various moments are like white clouds and morning dew. She didn’t know how well she had played the role of a man, but she knew that as a woman, she had done quite poorly.
Just as she was thinking this, Hong Shan came in from outside, immediately noticing the mandarin duck teapot in her hand, and joked, “Oh, our Commander even gave you a Seventh Night Festival gift! What good wine is it? Let big brother have a taste!”
He Yan was stunned for a moment, then suddenly smiled.
Past life and present, thinking about it now, this Seventh Night Festival wasn’t too bad after all. She had shared a ride with the man of countless Great Wei women’s dreams, touched his waist, riding his horse, traversed mountain paths, gazed at the starry sky, and even got a pot of magical medicine for free.
This life hadn’t been lived in vain.
(Actually, this is a sweet story about an underachiever who reincarnates to become a top student and tries to win over her school-day crush again (not really))