The sudden downpour had stopped; the wind had blown the dew away.
Chen Baoxiang bit into a bun that had grown slightly cold, and her eyelashes trembled just slightly.
Sincerity was always the thing most capable of moving people — especially for someone like her, who so often had to survive by deception.
Zhang Zhixu truly was a very good person.
But given the current situation, if she were to tell him plainly that he would have to defy imperial orders and refuse the marriage for her to have any hope of surviving — wouldn’t that be placing all the pressure and all the choices on his shoulders alone? And if she did nothing herself, how could she ever earn the Princess Imperial’s favor?
Going to him for help with this matter was an exceptionally foolish idea.
Chen Baoxiang told herself she should keep following her plan, offer him some vague reassurance, and leave it at that.
But then she looked directly into his eyes, and suddenly found she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.
“I have run into some trouble.” She pressed her lips together and, for once, gave an honest accounting. “But it’s also an opportunity, for me. My lord, I’ve grown reluctant to remain just a records clerk at the Military Enforcement Bureau.”
Anyone else hearing this might have thought her greedy and restless, but Zhang Zhixu listened — and, as a matter of course, let an expression of genuine approval cross his face.
“You have talent, and you have means. It’s worth making a bid for something more.”
“And what if, in the course of making that bid, I need to borrow your standing once more?”
“Such as?”
“Such as…” Chen Baoxiang swallowed. “Saying that you are deeply taken with me, and would be willing to brave fire and water for my sake, and so forth.”
She at least had the grace to feel some shame about it — her voice grew smaller and smaller with each word.
Zhang Zhixu gave her a peculiar look.
“I know this is entirely fabricated — it’s all a matter of expedience. I’ll try not to damage your reputation.” She quickly raised a hand. “In return, if there is any news from the Princess Imperial’s side regarding the Zhang Family, I will inform you at the earliest opportunity.”
Ningsu, who had always maintained such composure, actually laughed aloud from his shadowed corner.
Zhang Zhixu shot him an irritated glance, then turned a sidelong eye back to her, his voice going stiff once more: “Damaging my reputation is nothing new for you. No need to make a special announcement of it.”
“I’m just telling you clearly in advance so you don’t misunderstand.” She gave a dry laugh.
Misunderstand what — that she had him on her mind?
Zhang Zhixu kept his face cold and thought: given how ruthless she could be toward him, even if they ended up in the same bed one day, he still wouldn’t be able to misunderstand anything.
“I’m working on the situation with Rouyi. Until it’s resolved, bring more people with you when you go out.” He said it with poorly concealed concern, then swept an uneasy glance over her. “Or simply stay at Mingzhu Tower.”
At the mention of this, Chen Baoxiang waved him off reassuringly: “No need. I have someone looking out for me now — nothing should go wrong. As for you, keep provoking the people at your family home and you’ll just end up under the whip again. Rest and heal first. I’ll come by every day.”
Every day.
Zhang Zhixu gave a quiet, even sound of acknowledgment, and without realizing it, began smoothing the hem of his robe back and forth between his hands.
·
Based on Bikong’s observations, Chen Baoxiang was proving very useful.
She came to Mingzhu Tower every day — sometimes for half an hour, sometimes for an entire day. Each visit found her and Zhang Zhixu in animated conversation, the two of them warm and close, evidently on excellent terms.
Even when members of the Zhang Family sent people to intercept her, she remained unmoved by poverty or threat, steadfast and unyielding — perfectly meeting the Princess Imperial’s expectations of her.
Bikong was satisfied. She patted Chen Baoxiang on the shoulder and told her: “Princess Rouyi will come tomorrow to visit Zhang Zhixu with generous gifts. You should be there as well.”
Chen Baoxiang nearly choked.
Zhang Zhixu had suffered under family discipline because of a scandal. For Princess Rouyi to go and visit him was already offering the Zhang Family a gracious way out of an embarrassing situation. If Chen Baoxiang showed up at the same time — wouldn’t that be like holding a lantern in a privy, looking for trouble?
“Don’t worry. With Lord Zhang there, the princess won’t do anything to you.” Bikong said with complete seriousness. “He can protect you.”
He could protect her, that much was true — but this arrangement seemed to offer nothing good for any of the three of them.
Chen Baoxiang hesitated: “When the princess arrives, Mingzhu Tower will certainly be on lockdown. I doubt I’d have any way to get in.”
“That is your problem to solve.” Bikong inclined her head.
Chen Baoxiang fell silent.
She began to wonder if she had played her role too convincingly — convincing Bikong that the moment she appeared, Zhang Zhixu would abandon all sense and cooperate with her unconditionally.
That was not a good sign.
With a resigned sigh, she extended her hand toward Bikong: “I’m out of money. Lend me two taels.”
Bikong frowned: “I am the Princess Imperial’s eyes, not your purse.”
“But I don’t currently have a purse.” She made a pitiful face. “The bureau’s salary hasn’t come in yet either. Penniless as I am, how am I supposed to make Zhang Fengqing happy?”
Bikong sighed, and fished out five fen of silver to press into her hand.
Chen Baoxiang stared at that tiny amount and couldn’t quite hide her sympathy: “Your monthly wages are only five fen?”
“No.” Bikong shook her head. “I only want to lend you five fen. I’m afraid you won’t pay back any more than that.”
Chen Baoxiang: “…”
How could anyone be tighter with money than her?
She clutched her five defeated fen and did the math: to stretch things until the salary came in, she could only spend twenty-odd coins a day. If she also wanted to buy Zhang Zhixu a piece of brown sugar cake, she’d have to make do with plain congee tonight.
Perhaps her expression was too wretched, because Bikong couldn’t help asking: “You and Lord Zhang already have the substance of husband and wife — surely he gives you money to spend?”
“What substance of husband and wife.” Chen Baoxiang pressed her hands over her head in misery. “The affair at the Shensi Temple was truly blown out of all proportion by rumor. He is such a proper, decorous man — how could he possibly have done anything improper in a temple?”
Bikong looked startled, then hesitant: “Not in the temple, then — what about somewhere else…”
“Nowhere else either!”
Bikong clicked her tongue, with the air of someone sorely disappointed by a failure to live up to expectations. Then she turned and walked out the door — off to do something or other.
Chen Baoxiang smoothed her expression and, propping her chin in her hand, began to think through her options.
Li Rouyi had been born on the frontier. Her early years had not been easy. Her father’s sudden accession to the throne had just as suddenly made her a princess — a dizzying rise that naturally bred a measure of arrogance.
There was no point in trying to reason with a girl like that. Someone who could dictate the life and death of others at will had no interest in listening to lectures.
She narrowed her eyes, then stood up abruptly and headed straight for Mingzhu Tower.
·
Zhang Zhixu was watching the street below from the corner of his eye when he saw the figure come hurrying along.
He collected himself, withdrew his gaze, and turned a page of his book with an air of unconcern.
“My lord!” Chen Baoxiang swept in like a gust of wind, arriving before him in an instant, sending the stray locks at his temple floating gently backward.
Zhang Zhixu responded with complete composure: “So you truly do come every day.”
“I keep my word, don’t I?” She smiled. “Then, my lord — will you also keep yours?”
“You need my help?”
“No need to stir yourself. Just open your family vaults and let me go in for a look.”
Jiuquan, standing nearby, nearly choked.
Lord Chen truly had no fear in opening her mouth. The master’s vaults held every manner of rare treasure imaginable — letting her inside was no different from letting a rat loose in a granary.
He turned to look — and good heavens, the master was actually considering it.
“If Lord Chen wants something specific, this servant can go and fetch it.” Jiuquan offered.
Chen Baoxiang looked a little distressed: “There’s too much. I’m afraid I couldn’t describe it clearly. And I can’t write.”
… Was she planning to clean the place out?
Jiuquan looked anxiously at his master — only to find that the latter had already produced a key, setting it down beside her with casual ease: “Have Ningsu take you. The place is large and it’s easy to get lost.”