Zhaixing Restaurant was filled with the clinking of cups and lively chatter.

The elders at the banquet were laughing and talking while frequently glancing toward the terrace, only to see Su Shengyi step out shyly and return moments later with an irritated expression.

She sat down and whispered to her father, “Didn’t you say Lord Zhang had no one he cared for? Father, were you deceiving me?”

Su Linyun looked somewhat embarrassed and mumbled, “I hadn’t heard that he did.”

“Then I should have brought you along to hear for yourself just now.” Su Shengyi shook her head repeatedly. “Playing matchmaker with someone who already has someone else is far too improper.”

Su Linyun was at a loss for words. He glanced across the table at Zhang Yuanchu, whose expression had darkened as he frowned and looked toward the terrace.

Zhang Zhixu was unhurriedly holding a small slip of paper, jotting down the shop’s name.

He found the colorful beaded ornaments on the hairpin a bit garish, but figured Chen Baoxiang would surely like it.

It wasn’t as though he was rushing to send her a gift, but after all, she had already given him a waist ornament — returning the gesture was only proper.

The young lady from the Su Family had been quite easy to talk to. Not only had she told him the shop’s name but also its address, which he carefully wrote down stroke by stroke. He folded the slip of paper and was about to descend the side stairs.

But when he raised his eyes, he saw the people on the adjacent terrace.

Cen Xuanyue and Zhao Huaizhu were staring at him, mouths agape, as if they had been standing there for quite some time.

Zhang Zhixu’s heart sank. He followed the direction of their gaze and looked past them.

Chen Baoxiang stood behind the two of them, holding a pastry that had long since gone cold.

She lowered her head and inspected the filling inside, slowly took a bite, then lifted her gaze back to him. A smile curved her lips. “You really did let me guess right — the Zhang Family’s banquet is on this very floor.”

“……” Zhang Zhixu’s heart sank further.

He had understood clearly enough what Chen Baoxiang must have felt earlier when Pei Ruheng and Cen Xuanyue had been seen together. This person simply never gave anyone a chance to explain — whoever made her uncomfortable, she would simply let go of without hesitation.

He glanced at Su Shengyi, who had just returned to her seat inside, then looked back at the gathering within, its intentions clearly not innocent.

Zhang Zhixu did not even bother with the stairs. He vaulted straight over the railing and landed on the adjacent terrace.

“Be careful.” She clicked her tongue, looking him up and down. “What’s the rush?”

“I didn’t know it would be this kind of occasion before I came.” He quickly explained. “I’ve already made things clear to her. Next time I won’t fall for their schemes.”

“They wanted to see whether any young lady could catch your eye?”

“None could.” He frowned. “It’s not as if I need to get married to survive.”

Chen Baoxiang couldn’t help laughing at him.

She tucked a loose strand of his ink-dark hair back beneath his hair crown, then patted him on the shoulder, her expression easy and relaxed. “Alright, go back and enjoy the banquet. We haven’t finished our meal either.”

Zhang Zhixu slowly calmed down.

He fixed his gaze on her, as if searching her eyes for some hint of emotion.

There was none. Chen Baoxiang met his gaze openly, as natural as if they had simply run into each other on the street — no ripple, no turbulence, nothing out of the ordinary.

As if she did not care in the slightest who he was with or what he was doing.

“Mm.” Zhang Zhixu lowered his eyes. “Then you all eat first. I’ll be going.”

“Lord Zhang.” Zhao Huaizhu looked as though she wanted to say something but held back.

Chen Baoxiang stepped in front of her, waving at him with a cheerful smile. “See you later.”

“Alright.”

The two parted calmly. Chen Baoxiang watched as Zhang Zhixu descended the side stairs from her terrace, his figure vanishing from sight in an instant.

“Junior Sister, you…”

“I’m fine.” Chen Baoxiang reached out and covered her mouth. “It’s a rare happy occasion. What are we doing standing here? Let’s go back and hand out the money.”

Xiang She Lou had already made some profit. By rights, since they had only just opened, that money ought to be kept for restocking inventory and managing cash flow.

But the Spring Examinations were nearly upon them, and this year’s imperial examination system had not been reformed. Xue Hengyu, Lin Manyue, and the others would still have to go through the usual channels of seeking connections, just as before.

Chen Baoxiang had specially invited them to Zhaixing Restaurant and, through a drinking game, had slipped each of them a sum of money.

Lin Manyue was no fool. The moment she held the silver, she understood what it was for, and tried to return it.

“Keep it.” Chen Baoxiang leaned on her chin and smiled. “I am your teacher. I can neither teach you calligraphy nor write you letters of recommendation. The road ahead is full of hardship, and you must walk it yourselves.”

Xue Hengyu’s expression became immensely complicated. “Teacher means to have us… give gifts, just like everyone else?”

“Yes.” Chen Baoxiang nodded plainly.

A sudden silence fell over the banquet. Dozens of students all turned to look at her at once, hesitating as though each had something to say.

Chen Baoxiang swept her gaze across them and laughed softly. “Are you about to say that I shouldn’t be like this — that if you truly go around giving gifts, you’re no different from those who take crooked paths?”

Xue Hengyu nodded, her disappointment apparent. “Teacher, when you first accepted us, you asked only for a single fruit from each of us. I thought you were especially upright, far better than those others. And yet today… Had I known it would come to this, what would have been the point of becoming your student?”

“Yes,” the rest chimed in with sighs.

Cen Xuanyue frowned and was about to speak, but Chen Baoxiang raised her sleeve to stop her.

Chen Baoxiang smiled and asked, “If you hadn’t taken me as your teacher this year, what would you have done?”

“We naturally wouldn’t have sat the examination. We would have waited another year.”

“And if next year’s examination system remained the same? And the year after?”

Lin Manyue frowned deeply, turning the question over in her mind before answering with helpless resignation, “Then we would have no choice but to give up.”

“Well said — how admirable.” Chen Baoxiang clapped lightly for her. “Your mother stitched tens of thousands of garments to send you to Shangjing. You say you’d give up just like that. Even if you’ve let your mother down, at least you’ve stayed true to yourself. What a fine spirit.”

Lin Manyue froze, her fingers tightening uneasily on the hem of her robe.

Xue Hengyu still wore a frown. “The world is unjust. If we simply accept it and go along with it, won’t it remain unchanged forever?”

“Changing the world is work for those who have the power to do it.” Chen Baoxiang’s smile faded. Her gaze settled steadily on the people around the table. “And what are you? You can barely keep yourselves fed. You very nearly could not finish your studies. In the vast expanse of Shangjing, you are like specks of dust. Whether you live or die, no one would take notice.”

“To shake the foundations of injustice, you would have to sacrifice your futures, your families’ hopes — perhaps even your own lives. Every single one of the dozens of lives at this table, piled together, might amount to no more than the three characters ‘many died’ in an imperial record.”

“Do not think too highly of yourselves.”

“When the injustice of corruption and flattery rolls over you, there are upright and incorruptible officials who will step forward to stand against it and fight. Until there is a result, you must continue along the path that was laid out for you. Do not throw yourselves under the wheels.”

Everyone fell silent, stilled by her words.

The books they had read largely taught that a person must be upright, must dare to resist, must choose to be the jade that shatters rather than the tile that endures.

This was the first time anyone had ever told them: do not be reckless enough to be the first to stick your head out.

“Taking the path of connections is, of course, not ideal,” Cen Xuanyue said quietly, unable to hold back. “But since the system cannot be reformed right now, and your prospects cannot be delayed, the only thing Lord Chen can do is lift you to the same starting point as everyone else. What comes after depends entirely on yourselves.”

It was a method that could not withstand scrutiny in the open. But it could offer real, tangible help to those who needed to sit the examination this year.

Perhaps some would say she had willingly descended into the mire — that one cannot pass through a murky pond and keep one’s robes clean.

But if the institution is such, it is not the fault of the individual.