Chen Baoxiang looked up sharply.

The man standing before her was just as she had seen him at their first meeting — the same bronze eyes and iron brow, the same face full of thick stubble.

But he had restrained the fearsome air about him, and no longer looked down upon her from a height. He stood with his head bowed, like a long blade that had, helplessly, begun to rust.

“I understand what Her Highness wants.” He said. “To act as she wishes is also the best choice I can make at this juncture.”

“General.” Chen Baoxiang couldn’t help but remind him: “The Emperor has always held you in high regard, which is why he was willing to entrust the Forbidden Mobile Army to you. Once he discovers that you have… such intentions, your situation will only become far more difficult than even Fengqing’s.”

“I know.” Zhang Ting’an nodded.

“Then you…”

“Surely not every single person in the family can fail to care about him.” He gave a rare smile. “I watched that child grow up.”

Zhang Yuanchu considered Zhang Zhixu disobedient, ungrateful, and unworthy of great responsibilities. Zhang Ting’an only thought Zhang Yuanchu had no eye for talent — his younger brother was clearly intelligent and sensible.

Other children had their father’s love and mother’s affection. Zhang Zhixu would receive beatings from Zhang Yuanchu that left him black and blue at the slightest provocation. Other children could recite a few classical verses at four or five years old and be considered remarkable; Zhang Zhixu could recite half the Book of Songs by heart and still be punished with confinement.

Living and growing in such a suffocating place — and yet when Zhang Ting’an saw him, he would still smile, and say: Elder brother was gone less than half a year, yet how is it that you’ve grown thinner again?

The memory of that smiling childish face overlapped with the solitary, unyielding figure he saw today.

Zhang Ting’an let out a long, slow sigh.

If the Zhang Family wanted a path of retreat, someone had to step forward and shoulder that burden — and as long as he did, the clan’s elders would stop pressuring Zhang Zhixu.

“My reason for choosing you as the intermediary is naturally because of him as well.” He fixed his eyes on her. “He trusts you, so I trust you too.”

This must not leak to a fourth person. Once it did, the Zhang Family would be in grave danger. And so compared to the persuaders outside, she was naturally far more reliable.

Chen Baoxiang’s expression was grave: “Since the General is willing to give me this opportunity, I will not let him down.”

Earlier when the Princess had raised the matter, Chen Baoxiang had still thought it an impossible task. She hadn’t imagined the man would come to her door of his own accord.

When the Princess learned of this, she was sure to praise and favor her greatly, and hold her in even higher regard.

But Chen Baoxiang found that she wasn’t nearly as happy as she’d imagined she would be.

She propped her chin in her hand, staring out the window. Her other hand absently tapped the medicine bottle in her grip, again and again and again.

·

Summer nights in Shangjing were often rainy. When Zhang Zhixu returned with an umbrella, the better part of his robe was already soaked through.

“Master, please don’t go back there tomorrow.” Ningsu followed behind him, still seething. “Those people have no sense of gratitude at all. All your effort, entirely wasted.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He said quietly. “The next time I encounter something like this, I’ll be prepared.”

“But…”

Zhang Zhixu raised a hand, not wanting him to continue. He set down the umbrella and walked toward the bed with lowered eyes, too weary to even bother lighting a lamp.

A spark of fire came to life in the darkness.

He paused, and turned to look.

Chen Baoxiang had lit the lamp on the table. The gentle candlelight illuminated the curve of her profile and the smile at the corners of her eyes.

For a moment, Zhang Zhixu felt strangely disoriented.

It had already been three days. He had vaguely sensed that she didn’t want to speak to him — though he wasn’t entirely clear on why.

At first he had tossed and turned, cycling from anger to hurt to panic, turning over every possible reason in his mind.

Eventually, he decided he had to slowly come to accept it — to accept that she was sometimes warm and sometimes distant, and to accept that sometimes she liked him quite well, and sometimes not so much.

It’s all right. Emotions have never been things that follow reason. It’s all right.

— His reasoning had gotten itself in order, but now that he was actually looking at her walking toward him again, Zhang Zhixu still felt a little wronged.

“It’s so late and you’re still not asleep?” His voice came out muffled.

Chen Baoxiang walked up to stand before him, reached out, and wrapped him in a big embrace.

His chin was pressed involuntarily against the top of her head. At first all he felt was the cool touch of her hair ornament, but before long the warmth of her body seeped through his half-damp clothing and reached him.

“Bikong told me you went to Yanglin Village today,” she said with a smile. “And brought two full cartloads of lamb legs.”

Zhang Zhixu let out a stiff sound of acknowledgment.

“You went wanting to do something good for people, but it ended in a scramble, someone started fighting right there, and then you ended up injured — and they even tried to extort money from you and cursed you for having ill intentions. Wasn’t that how it went?” She patted his back.

He turned his head away, looking somewhat sheepish: “I hadn’t thought it through well enough.”

He had thought the people of Yanglin Village lived in hardship and had meant to buy some meat to let them enjoy a good meal. He hadn’t anticipated the situation spiraling so completely out of control.

Chen Baoxiang held him and swayed gently side to side, laughing softly: “Do you know why, when I distributed that meat broth back then, I insisted on charging five coins?”

“Five coins couldn’t recoup anything at all, but once I collected payment, I wasn’t doing good deeds anymore. And if it wasn’t a good deed, there was no burden to bear.”

The world was far too harsh toward “good people.” Once you carried that kind of reputation, others would make demands of you from every angle. The moment you fell short of anything, they would set upon you in a mob, declaring: See, I knew it — he’s actually rotten to the core.

By contrast, being a bad person was so much easier. Even if you killed people, set fires, extorted and exploited — if you happened to do one good thing in passing, everyone would say you were actually quite kind-hearted deep down.

“You did nothing wrong. They are the ones in the wrong. But that’s the way the world is, and if you want to accomplish what you mean to do, you can find another way.” She tilted her face up to look at him. “Next time, I’ll go with you — how does that sound?”

Zhang Zhixu looked down at her. After a long silence he spoke in a low, husky voice: “The bridge on the road to Yanglin Village was washed out. The path is even harder to travel now. You don’t need to come.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise: “Surely not — if even the pristine Second Young Master Zhang who won’t let mud touch his shoes could walk it, I certainly can’t?”

He shot her a mildly irritated glare.

Chen Baoxiang broke into a laugh. She took his arm and drew him down to sit at the table, looking him over carefully. In the end she pulled out a newly purchased medicine: “Let me see your hands.”

Zhang Zhixu was reluctant: “Let Ningsu do it.”

“You prefer him to me?”

“…” She’s saying that kind of thing again.

He stiffly rolled up his sleeve just a little and pressed the edge down with his knuckle.

Chen Baoxiang looked at him for a moment, sensed something was off, and tugged the sleeve back herself.

When the long sleeve was folded away, the old wound on his hand had indeed gone down, but somehow there were new patches of red and purple, and two or three fresh gashes.

“I went too many places, I don’t know what I picked up — some rashes broke out.” He made an effort to pull his sleeve back down. “It’s nothing serious.”

Chen Baoxiang held her expression flat, put her hand over his and pushed it away again, then began applying medicine without a word, lips pressed tightly together, clearly in a mood that was not entirely pleasant.

Somehow inexplicably guilty, Zhang Zhixu looked helplessly toward Ningsu.

Ningsu rubbed the tip of his nose, gave a dry laugh, and said: “Well, I suppose I ought to explain.”