That day, Zhu Yan returned to the manor with a package, her steps light and her face beaming with joy at everyone she met.
Shen Du saw her and felt puzzled. He followed her, asking, “Did you find a treasure?”
“No!” Zhu Yan shook her head, her eyes crinkled with laughter. The white jade hairpin on her head swayed its faint glow still no match for her radiant smile.
“Did you take the wrong medicine?” Shen Du furrowed his brow.
“Pah! My Third Sister is getting married. Why are you saying such unlucky things?” Zhu Yan glared at him reproachfully. As she spoke, they reached her room. She ran in eagerly and opened the package.
Shen Du leaned in to look. “Brocade? Is this related to a new case in your Department of Justice?”
Do I have nothing else in my life except cases?
Zhu Yan rolled her eyes at him. She spread out the brocade and took out a new pair of scissors from the package. After measuring, she carefully began to cut. “I’m going to make the best mandarin duck sachet in the world for my Third Sister.”
“You know needlework?” Shen Du was surprised, his voice rising unconsciously.
“I don’t. This is my first time,” Zhu Yan shook her head honestly, then ignored him to focus on cutting.
However, after cutting two palm-sized pieces of fabric, her forehead was already covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
As she wiped away the sweat, barely catching her breath, a threaded needle appeared before her eyes, like a cattle prod urging her to hurry.
Zhu Yan followed the hand holding the needle to look at Shen Du, who turned his head away without a word.
A lump formed in Zhu Yan’s throat. With Shen Du’s abilities, couldn’t he see that she wasn’t skilled at needlework? He must be doing this on purpose.
Having boasted earlier, Zhu Yan didn’t want to be looked down upon. She snatched the needle and began embroidering with the same focus she applied to solving cases, one stitch at a time.
At some point, candles had been lit in the room. When Zhu Yan raised her head, the brightness made her close her eyes. Opening them again, she was slightly surprised to see Shen Du still there. After pondering for a moment, she couldn’t help but ask:
“Are you very free?”
Zhu Yan swore she was just trying to make conversation, but seeing Shen Du’s face darken visibly, she hurriedly waved the finished sachet in her hand:
“How did I do? Isn’t it good?”
The stitches on the sachet were messy and crooked. The two “birds” on it would have been unrecognizable as birds if Shen Du hadn’t watched Zhu Yan embroider them himself.
He racked his brain but couldn’t come up with any words to describe these “birds” appropriately.
Zhu Yan rotated her stiff neck and looked up at Shen Du with shining eyes. “I’ve decided. On my Third Sister’s wedding day, I’ll give this to her as part of her dowry. They say ‘Envy only mandarin ducks, not immortals.’ Isn’t this auspicious?”
Shen Du’s lips twitched. These are “mandarin ducks”?
“It’s mediocre, like a beggar’s old clothes patched together. I can’t make out what it’s supposed to be.”
Hearing his mockery, Zhu Yan slammed her palm on the table with a bang. Her eyebrows shot up, and her lips trembled with anger. In the end, she didn’t dare do anything to him and just pushed and dragged him out of the room.
However, after taking a closer look at the pattern on the sachet, Zhu Yan grimaced and threw it into the basket along with the new needles and thread.
Forget it. In a few days, when money is tight, she’d squeeze some silver from her meager salary to buy one instead. No need to embarrass herself.
On the wedding day, the Zhu family’s home was bustling with activity, and even the palace had sent many gifts.
Zhang Baohuan arrived in a very low-key blue-topped sedan chair. After alighting, he avoided the crowd and went to the back hall without disturbing anyone.
“You…” Han Shiyuan’s smile froze. He hadn’t expected to see this unexpected person appear before him.
“I just came to take a look, sneaking in. I won’t disturb your ordinary life, nor will I trouble you with palace entanglements,” Zhang Baohuan said hurriedly, fearing Han Shiyuan would be displeased. “I’ll just look for a moment and then leave. Don’t worry.”
As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on Han Shiyuan, as if trying to etch the image of Han Shiyuan in his wedding attire, looking more dignified than ever, into his mind. His eyes gradually moistened.
The image of Zhang Baohuan risking his safety to shield Han Shiyuan from Yuchi Yang, along with every previous instance of their mutual support, flashed before Han Shiyuan’s eyes. He pressed his lips together and clenched his fists, and a struggling expression appeared on his face.
How could Zhang Baohuan not guess? He wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes and rose to leave:
“Then I won’t disturb you. I’ll go now!”
Han Shiyuan stopped him, looking stubborn. Zhang Baohuan’s eyes were still moist. He was more delicately featured than Han Shiyuan, their appearances not entirely alike. Han Shiyuan resembled his sister Zhang Baoying more, handsome and refined, but Zhang Baohuan was beyond description, even by terms like “clear wind and bright moon.” Especially those eyes, containing three parts charm and seven parts emotion, making one inclined to believe him without question.
“Brother…”
Han Shiyuan hurriedly interrupted:
“Why didn’t you save my sister back then?”
Han Shiyuan had finally asked the question that had stood between them. Before, he had never given Zhang Baohuan a chance to explain. Now, he wanted to wait for an answer.
Zhang Baohuan wept with joy, taking two excited steps forward, stopping when he saw Han Shiyuan’s still somewhat resistant gaze. He said, “It’s not that I didn’t want to save her. The evidence was too strong at the time, and Chen Shi couldn’t be found. I had just entered the palace and didn’t have deep roots. I was powerless to change the situation.”
A gentle breeze lifted Han Shiyuan’s wide sleeves. His eyes still showed inner struggle. Zhang Baohuan, fearing Han Shiyuan might not want to hear more, poured out the hidden truth all at once, like spilling a bag of beans:
“Later, I still refused to give up. But someone came to warn me that if I interfered again, I wouldn’t even be able to protect you. I had already failed to save Sister, how could I watch you fall into danger? With no other choice, I had to give up.”
“Who warned you?” Han Shiyuan raised his eyes. That hint of doubt had gradually dispersed, replaced by a more intense concern. Perhaps he cared about the truth, or perhaps…
Zhang Baohuan didn’t dare to think too much, fearing his hope might be just an illusion:
“I don’t know. To this day, I haven’t been able to discover that person’s identity. But I’ve been investigating secretly. Because I couldn’t find you, I feared the people behind this might harm you, so I didn’t try to clear your sister’s name.
After seeing you, I began to urge Her Majesty to reopen the Jinxiu Fang case, trying to restore your sister’s innocence!”
After speaking, he looked at Han Shiyuan with hope and nervousness.
Han Shiyuan’s tears suddenly flowed. He had stubbornly stayed away from court affairs before, never understanding the dangers within. Recently, being forced into these matters, he finally realized how difficult it was for Zhang Baohuan to be in that position.
“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”
If he hadn’t stopped Zhang Baohuan, if he hadn’t asked, Zhang Baohuan might have kept these things bottled up inside for life.
“Sigh, I had no choice but to be involved in these court disputes, always on edge, even having to measure my steps carefully. It’s bad enough that I have to live like this, why should I implicate you?”
Though he had imagined a thousand answers, Han Shiyuan had never considered this reason. Back when Jinxiu Fang was convicted, Zhang Baohuan was serving on the Empress’s side, yet for self-preservation, he watched Jinxiu Fang’s destruction and the execution of Kong Xianrong and Zhang Baoying’s family.
In his eyes, Zhang Baohuan had been so selfish. How could he consider others?
Han Shiyuan’s eyes were full of tears, crying out all the suffering he had endured over the years.
Zhang Baohuan was at a loss, his hands awkward and his expression helpless and pained. Finally, he reached out and pulled Han Shiyuan to his shoulder, patting and comforting him gently:
“It’s alright now. Everything will get better.”
“I will protect you.”
Han Shiyuan shook his head, sobbing: “Brother…”
With just this one word, the snow on Tianshan Mountain had melted, causing Zhang Baohuan’s eyes to redden as well.