Chen Baoxiang watched as her own body marched up to a public scribe’s stall, paid twenty coins to borrow the man’s brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, and wrote out something in a rapid hand.

The finished paper was tucked inside her front lapel. Then, fifty coins later, they were riding a hired cart to a certain garden estate.

“Is Steward Jiuquan here?” he went straight up and asked.

The gatekeeper looked Chen Baoxiang’s clothes over with a frown. After a moment, he went in and came back with a bowl of leftover food. “Have this, then be on your way somewhere else.”

Zhang Zhixu felt the insult to his core and nearly knocked the bowl out of the man’s hands.

Chen Baoxiang, however, accepted it with complete ease, smiled, and asked: “Can you read, young man?”

The gatekeeper said with pride: “Anyone working at the Zhang Family’s secondary estate could pass the licentiate examination.”

“Then have a look at this.” Chen Baoxiang produced the paper from her lapel and offered it over.

The gatekeeper took it with a careless air and began to read — then gradually sat up straighter — and by the time he reached the final seal, his expression changed entirely. He leapt to his feet and snatched the bowl back out of her hands.

“Forgive me, forgive me — I didn’t realize you were a honored guest of the master.” He pulled the gate open at once. “Please come in. Steward Jiuquan happened to come by to review the accounts today — he’s in the study.”

Then he turned and made a deep bow toward Chen Baoxiang: “Please don’t breathe a word of this to the steward. Our estate keeps strict rules, and I only offered the food out of goodwill to someone who appeared to be in need.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Chen Baoxiang said, glancing at the bowl still in his hands. “That looked like quite decent food — there was even glutinous rice.”

Zhang Zhixu found his irritation fading at her words. Thinking it over, she was right — this gatekeeper, compared to the overseer outside, might even be called a decent person.

He deserved a bit extra in his wages. He’d mention it to Jiuquan.

“Steward — an honored guest has arrived,” a servant inside announced.

Jiuquan had not been having a good stretch of days. The assassination attempt on Cheng Huaili had failed; his master had not yet regained consciousness; and on top of everything, a stack of Xun Yuan’s account books sat waiting to be gone through. His lips had blistered with stress.

His tone reflected it: “How honored?”

“Not very, at the moment.” Chen Baoxiang counted the coins in her hand and muttered quietly. “Right now I’m probably worth about twenty.”

Jiuquan looked up in surprise — and the moment he saw who it was, he rose at once. “Miss Chen?”

“Your master gave me this and said to come find you here.” Chen Baoxiang held out the paper with some unease. “I can’t read — what does it say?”

Jiuquan took it, read it, and let out a helpless laugh. “A promissory note. The master owes you ten thousand taels?”

“What?” Chen Baoxiang’s jaw dropped.

She called out nervously inside: Great Immortal — isn’t that a little much to fabricate? What could he possibly owe me that much for? Even just hearing it sounds wrong.

That’s just how little you’ve seen of the world.

Zhang Zhixu spoke with perfect naturalness: “It was back in Jiangnan — Fengqing saw a strand of jade beads he liked. Deep green throughout, not a flaw to be found. The merchant wouldn’t take less than ten thousand taels. Fengqing hadn’t brought money with him, so I covered it.”

He added a note of gentle reproach: “I’d already told him he didn’t need to pay me back. Why is he still keeping track of it, and writing promissory notes about it.”

Jiuquan nodded slowly in understanding. “The strand the master wore twice and then put away — I remember it. I always wondered when he’d bought it. So it was in Jiangnan.”

He reached into a nearby case and brought out ten bank drafts. “Please count them, Miss.”

Chen Baoxiang felt her heart fluttering with anxiety.

She liked money, yes — but having this much handed to her at once, through what was not exactly an aboveboard arrangement — who would dare simply take it?

She carefully drew out a single draft. “Surely this is enough?”

“There’s no need to refuse, Miss.” Jiuquan pressed the entire stack into her purse. “It’s clear you wouldn’t have come here unless you had no other options. By the way — how did things go on the Pei Family’s side?”

Zhang Zhixu glanced at the servants who had stepped back, then said quietly: “That’s actually something I wanted to speak with you about. There may be a spy in Fengqing’s circle.”

“A spy?”

Zhang Zhixu relayed what Cheng’an had said to Jiuquan, then added: “I’d like to stay at Xun Yuan for a while. In the coming days, if anyone tries to arrange a meeting with you, have them come here. Once I hear that voice again, I’ll be able to place it.”

“Of course.” Jiuquan agreed without a moment’s hesitation and immediately instructed the servants to prepare a room.

Chen Baoxiang was somewhat stunned. The stewards of these great houses are far too easy to fool — he just believes everything you say?

That’s not how it is. Jiuquan had undergone rigorous training and kept his guard up constantly. If Zhang Zhixu hadn’t specifically issued instructions when he briefly returned to his body, Jiuquan would never have let her through the door so easily.

Zhang Zhixu didn’t explain. He simply gave a low grunt and said: “I may also need to trouble the estate’s physician to come and take a look.”

“You’re injured, Miss?” Only then did Jiuquan notice. His brow drew together at once. “What happened?”

Zhang Zhixu had always found Jiuquan’s temperament somewhat trying — quick to anger, prone to holding grudges, his inner equilibrium not particularly steady.

But right now, Zhang Zhixu himself was in a worse state. He said with undisguised fury: “An illegal operation over in the He-Yue Ward. The overseer was shorting wages and had hired men beat people — even tried to kill someone.”

Jiuquan called out immediately: “Shunzi — round up a few people and come with me. Let’s go pay those people a visit.”

“Yes, sir!”

A group assembled in the blink of an eye, armed and striding out with full vigor.

Zhang Zhixu finally felt some of the weight lift — he almost wanted to give everyone in the estate a raise.

He turned back — and found Chen Baoxiang looking odd. Her eyes were bright with heat. Her nose had gone red at the tip.

“There’s no need for that,” he said, half amused. “Is this really worth crying over?”

“I’m not crying.” She wiped her eyes stubbornly. “It’s just very windy in here.”

People could endure an enormous amount on their own — grit teeth, press on, get through it. What they couldn’t always bear was someone suddenly, unexpectedly appearing to stand up for them. It was like pulling the bottom block from a wooden tower: the whole structure came down.

“Great Immortal, thank you.” She clutched the bank drafts in her fist. “I’m going to have a golden statue made for you right now.”

“Save it.” Zhang Zhixu said with a quiet laugh. “I don’t need a golden statue — but you need the money right now.”

With ten thousand taels, she could set up a proper residence in Shangjing and even afford a few servants. And if Pei Ruheng ever did have thoughts of proposing, her circumstances would at least be presentable enough not to embarrass him.

“Go with the maidservant to the Water Heart Cottage first. The physician should arrive shortly.”

Chen Baoxiang obeyed for once, doing as she was told without argument.

Zhang Zhixu had just started to feel something like approval — and then watched her flop face-down onto the bed and fall immediately unconscious.

He exhaled slowly. She really had been pushed too far.

If he hadn’t experienced it alongside her, he would never have believed there were still so many injustices going on like this. He’d genuinely assumed that the lives of ordinary people were simple, uneventful, free of great burden.

Scholars have their own suffering. So do the farmers who work the land.

Chen Baoxiang’s words echoed back to him. Zhang Zhixu pressed his palm to her burning forehead, and felt, quite suddenly, that his own troubles — the ones he had thought so insurmountable — were not, in the end, the kind that could only be broken through by death.

The worst of it was simply that he had to fight. But who lived without fighting with everything they had?

He had a family name ten thousand times better than hers. Power and standing far beyond what she could dream of. She was clinging to life with everything she possessed — so what possible reason did he have to keep driving himself into a corner?