A’Luo returned home, and that night she found herself unable to sleep. She kept feeling that Liu Jue would come looking for trouble with her. She tossed and turned but couldn’t think of a good solution. She thought about how she still hadn’t found a way to make money, and how leaving the Chancellor’s residence remained a distant hope. The days were passing one by one, and when that day came when Chancellor Li packed her up and sold her off, what would she do? Could Zili help her? Could she trust him? A’Luo was extremely troubled.

Early the next morning, the sound of Zili’s flute again drifted over from the bamboo grove. A’Luo thought to herself, why was Zili so interested in the Chancellor’s third young lady? Just because they had played the flute together for two months? Facing Zili while playing two roles—A’Luo felt this was too difficult. Besides, when dressed as a man, the only real change was in clothing and color, so over time, how could Zili not notice? She might as well just tell him now. She wasn’t sure if Zili could even help. A’Luo thought, she herself had no way at all to manage things in Feng City.

Seeing A’Luo walk into the bamboo grove, Zili showed a gentle smile. He was waiting—waiting for A’Luo to tell him herself that she was Luo Shan, and that Luo Shan was her.

A’Luo asked Zili, “Why have you come again?”

Zili said, “Yesterday you left in such a hurry, you never told me why you didn’t answer my flute call.”

A’Luo went and sat on a rock to the side, propping her chin up with both hands. She thought it over once more in her heart, then raised her face to look at Zili. “Elder Brother! I—I am Luo Shan.” Having said this, she lowered her head, looking rather ashamed.

Zili feigned astonishment. “You’re saying you’re Brother Shan?”

A’Luo said, “I wore men’s clothing and blackened my face.”

Zili walked slowly toward her, crouching down to look at her. “Let me have a proper look.”

A’Luo met his gaze earnestly. Zili studied her carefully—her small palm-sized face, her pointed chin, her petal-like mouth, her eyebrows out of sight, her eyes set into skin as white as snow, glimmering like glazed jade. If one didn’t look closely, one truly wouldn’t notice how captivating A’Luo could be. Zili gazed into A’Luo’s eyes, seeing within them a mystery unfamiliar to him, like a whirlpool drawing him in. He found himself entranced without realizing it.

Seeing Zili staring at her without speaking for so long, A’Luo thought he didn’t believe her. “Elder Brother, the first time we met was by the riverbank, when I came over and disturbed you playing the flute.”

Zili came back to himself and smiled. “I know. You’re Brother Shan—meaning you’re the third in the family order, right?”

A’Luo nodded.

Zili sat down beside her and asked, “Brother Shan—oh, what should I call you?”

A’Luo smiled. “Just call me by my name. Mother always likes to call me San’er. Everyone else at home calls me A’Luo. My full name is Li Qingluo. Call me whatever you like.”

Zili laughed. “What young lady lets people call her given name so freely? You’re really bold.”

A’Luo suddenly remembered this wasn’t like the modern era, where you could call someone by their name freely. She said with a smile, “Elder Brother, just call me Brother Shan. A name is just a label—it doesn’t matter what you call me.”

Zili found A’Luo remarkably forthright and said with a smile, “All right then, Brother Shan—what’s troubling you?”

A’Luo said glumly, “I don’t know how to earn money.”

Zili asked curiously, “Why do you want to earn money?”

A’Luo thought about it and said, “With money I could leave the Chancellor’s residence and travel around.”

Zili laughed. “Chancellor Li would never agree to that.”

“That’s exactly why I need to earn my own money,” A’Luo said.

Zili frowned slightly. “Actually, it’s very dangerous out there. Your martial skills might be enough to protect yourself against people with no training, but against someone with real skill, they’d be useless.”

A’Luo sighed, remembering that Liu Jue knew lightness footwork and could strike acupoints, and that even Zili had leapt lightly over the courtyard wall, while she herself had to climb clumsily. She looked at Zili and said, “Elder Brother, but I really want to travel and see the world. Won’t you help me figure out how to earn money?”

Seeing A’Luo look at him again with that pleading gaze, Zili found he couldn’t refuse her at all. He said with a smile, “Then what can you do? Tell your elder brother.”

A’Luo’s face instantly lit up. “I can cook! Better than the Three Perfections dish, anyway!”

Zili smiled and shook his head, unconvinced. “I’ll believe it once you cook for me.”

A’Luo jumped up and asked excitedly, “Elder Brother, if what I cook is better than Qianfeng Tower’s food, will you open a restaurant and let me cook? We’ll split the profits.”

Zili couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, it’s a deal. Shall we go now?”

A’Luo jumped for joy, momentarily forgetting that Zili also knew lightness footwork, and pulled him toward the wall to climb over. A’Luo scrambled up to the top of the wall in a few steps and waved to Zili. “Elder Brother, come up! Hurry!”

Zili looked up at A’Luo. At that moment she looked like a mountain sprite—her flute music carried a melancholy beyond her years, yet her laughter seemed like the purest glazed jade, without a trace of suppression. Something stirred in his heart, and he suddenly wanted to climb the wall with her. Zili followed her up to the top of the wall, and when he saw A’Luo pull out a rope ladder, he finally burst out laughing, wrapping an arm around her and leaping down together.

A’Luo laughed. “I got so excited I forgot Elder Brother knows lightness footwork.”

A’Luo hadn’t changed into men’s clothing, so Zili had his attendant hire a sedan chair, saying to A’Luo, “Once you change into men’s clothes, I’ll teach you to ride a horse.”

A’Luo thought a sedan chair was fine too—she could slowly take in the scenery along the way. They arrived at Qianfeng Tower. She wasn’t sure what Zili had said, but the shopkeeper attended to A’Luo eagerly. “Miss, please follow me to the kitchen.”

A’Luo glanced at Zili. Zili sat by the table and said, “I’ll be waiting to taste your skill.”

A’Luo raised her head proudly and followed the shopkeeper to the kitchen. Nearly a full hour passed before the dish was brought to the table.

Zili looked at it. “You were in the kitchen this long, and all you made was this cabbage soup? You just soaked cabbage in water and brought it out?”

A’Luo pouted. “The Three Perfections dish can’t even compare in presentation. Boiled cabbage in clear broth is supposed to look like cabbage soaking in hot water—that’s the whole point. Try it.”

Zili smiled, scooped up a bit of broth with a spoon, and drank it. His brow furrowed, and gradually his face showed surprise and delight. “Qianfeng Tower might as well close down.”

A’Luo smiled sweetly. Zili praised it. “This is truly fragrant and refreshing, exceptionally delicious. Brother Shan, how did you make this?”

A’Luo began to show off. “Cabbage—actually, I only used the tender yellow heart from the center of a large cabbage, one that’s nearly but not quite fully mature. And don’t underestimate this pot of clear broth—it’s made by simmering old hen, old duck, pig trotters, ribs, dried scallops, and other fresh ingredients together, slowly cooked with seasonings until the flavor comes out. Then you skim off the foam until the broth turns as clear as water. An hour? I was worried you’d get impatient waiting, so I rushed to make it early.”

Zili laughed. “Did a family cook teach you this?”

A’Luo smiled. “Secret. Can’t reveal that.”

Zili began drinking the soup and eating the cabbage. A’Luo remembered that in the modern era, she’d once eaten this dish, not realizing its worth and thinking eighty yuan for a bowl of boiled cabbage was too expensive—she’d nearly argued with the restaurant over it. Later, once she understood, she went and learned to make it.

Zili sighed as he ate. “This is too delicious. All right, I’ll open a restaurant. You won’t need to cook yourself—just teach the chefs how to make it. We’ll sell each dish for a hundred taels of silver. Even if we only sell to ten people, that’s a thousand taels a day. We’ll split it between the two of us.”

A’Luo was stunned. “That expensive? Will anyone actually pay for it?”

Zili smiled. “Don’t worry, rarity makes things precious.”

A’Luo quickly calculated—at this rate, in just a few months, she’d be a wealthy woman in ancient times! She could leave the Chancellor’s residence, travel around, be free! A’Luo clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and murmured inwardly, “In ancient times, what’s most valuable? Talent! Thank you to whoever said that, thank you to my parents for never having time to look after me, thank you to the restaurant that charged me eighty yuan…!”

Zili watched, amused, as A’Luo prayed with tearful gratitude. Her small face was radiant, her lashes trembling with excitement like butterflies about to take flight. A tender feeling welled up in his heart. He sighed, took A’Luo’s hand, and said earnestly, “Brother Shan, how about I take care of you?”

A’Luo stared at him blankly. There was something in Zili’s eyes she couldn’t quite understand—it seemed earnest, seemed tender. She broke into a grin. “I really didn’t expect that here I’d meet such a good elder brother! Hehe, and my business partner too!”

Zili was both exasperated and amused, thinking she was still young and didn’t understand his meaning. He was about to speak when he heard someone sneer coldly, “So you found yourself a backer—no wonder you’re this arrogant, daring to stand me up!”

A’Luo startled and turned to look—standing at the top of the stairs was none other than Liu Jue. He stood there lazily, a smile on his face, his eyes cold.

Zili said flatly, “Has the young prince also come to Qianfeng Tower to dine?”

Liu Jue said indolently, “I was going to, but not anymore. Farewell!” As he left, A’Luo felt his gaze sweep over her, and the hair on her body stood on end.

Seeing A’Luo shocked and clearly afraid, yet also reluctant, Zili asked calmly, “You didn’t keep your appointment with him yesterday?”

It took A’Luo a moment to recover. “At the Peach Blossom Banquet, I didn’t know who he was and knocked him out, then tied him to a tree and robbed him of his silver. At the Mid-Autumn moon viewing, he recognized me. Yesterday he asked me to meet him again by the river in South City to settle the score, but I was late and didn’t have time to go.”

The more Zili listened, the more his eyes filled with amusement, thinking about how Liu Jue, usually so composed, had ended up bested by a young girl. Imagining the scene, he couldn’t help but laugh heartily. “Brother Shan, you really are interesting! Don’t worry, your elder brother will surely protect you.”

Seeing Zili’s expression unchanged, so confident, A’Luo grew even more uneasy, not knowing his background. She didn’t feel comfortable asking. Thinking it over, she realized that no matter what, Liu Jue was still the young prince of the Anqing Prince’s estate, Prince Ning’s own nephew. Enmity is easy to form but hard to resolve—it would be better to explain things clearly to Liu Jue.