The head of a patrol garrison — capable of buying all of Wanbao Pavilion?

Zhang Zhixu was genuinely surprised.

Chen Baoxiang, for her part, didn’t seem to find it remarkable at all. She picked up a pomegranate-and-gem-inlaid hairpin and moved on.

“That one too — I want it.” Lu Qingrong snatched it in irritation.

The proprietor beamed: “Thirty-six taels, if you please. Twenty-three taels for that one. Sixty taels for this one.”

Several items disappeared from Chen Baoxiang’s hands in quick succession. Zhang Zhixu was starting to feel annoyed — but Chen Baoxiang remained composed. She even drew the proprietor aside for a quiet exchange.

“What are you whispering about over there?” Lu Qingrong said, eyes reddening. “Let me tell you, Proprietor — my family holds an official position that keeps this place supplied. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll know who the real patron here is.”

“Ah, distinguished guest.” The proprietor hurried over to attend to her, pouring tea and smiling apologies. “Of course, of course. This one always knows which way is up.”

“Don’t believe her boasting,” Chen Baoxiang said, fanning herself with a bank draft. “Her family is quite poor.”

“You think your thousand taels is impressive?” Lu Qingrong said through her teeth. “Today, I guarantee you won’t walk out of here with a single purchase. Proprietor — wrap all of these hairpins and ornaments for me!”

Zhang Zhixu watched and noted that Lu Qingrong was the sort of person who was easily provoked into impulsive decisions. And yet, transparent as Chen Baoxiang’s tactic was, it worked perfectly.

The items piled up — many of them things she didn’t actually want — and none of them were cheap.

Chen Baoxiang reminded her cheerfully: “That’s nearly fourteen hundred taels now. Do you actually have that much?”

Lu Qingrong laughed coldly. “Only someone as unworldly as you would think that’s a significant sum.”

“Is it really not?” Chen Baoxiang made a show of amazement, then turned and headed further up the stairs.

The third floor held larger ornamental pieces — gold, jade, and precious stones.

Lu Qingrong grabbed the railing and followed, a trace of uncertainty in her voice now: “What do you want these for?”

“The new residence I’ve acquired is terribly bare — I need some proper treasures to anchor it.” Chen Baoxiang rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “What do you think of that gold Buddha over there?”

The proprietor stepped in at once: “Two young ladies, please consider carefully — this is a solid gold Fortune Buddha. It weighs ten catties alone, and the asking price is two thousand and sixty taels.”

Cold sweat broke out down Lu Qingrong’s back. Chen Baoxiang counted out three bank drafts and turned to her with a look of triumph: “This one you can’t take from me.”

“You —” Lu Qingrong stared at the purse in disbelief. “Where is all of this money actually coming from? If you can’t account for it clearly, I’ll have the authorities called in to investigate you for theft.”

So when she couldn’t win, she’d use official power to press the point?

Chen Baoxiang gave a dismissive laugh. “There’s nothing unclear about it. This is money Zhang Zhixu gave me — the accounting records at his family’s estate will show it. Call in the authorities and let them look.”

She kept her face confident and composed. Inside, she was quietly nervous.

That should hold up, right? It did come from his family’s accounts.

Zhang Zhixu was almost amused. Yes. It’s fine.

Chen Baoxiang’s posture straightened a fraction more.

Lu Qingrong’s indignation had nowhere to go. With so many people watching, she couldn’t very well back down gracefully now. She pressed her lips together and said: “Since you and the Zhang Family’s young master are apparently on such intimate terms — you have no reason not to attend the coming-of-age ceremony for the fourth branch Miss of the Zhang Family next month.”

The coming-of-age ceremony?

Zhang Zhixu’s chest tightened. With General Cheng gravely injured — why is the Zhang Family still holding a coming-of-age ceremony?

“Why ask me? You’re the one who supposedly knows the Zhang Family so well,” Lu Qingrong said, rolling her eyes. She turned and left.

Zhang Zhixu’s brow furrowed deeply. He said nothing. Chen Baoxiang, for her part, was in excellent spirits — she watched Lu Qingrong depart Wanbao Pavilion loaded down with packages, then turned to the proprietor with a bright smile: “Not bad, was I?”

The proprietor was working his abacus so happily his eyebrows had all but disappeared into his hairline. “Quite masterful, Miss — those one-of-a-kind pieces I have reserved for you, and I’ll pass on ten percent of the margin.”

“One-of-a-kind” was, in practice, code for items that were overpriced and underwhelming — things that sat on the shelves and never sold under normal circumstances.

Chen Baoxiang looked at the figures on the abacus and clapped her hands with glee. “So today’s entire shopping bill goes on Miss Lu’s account.”

And with that, she sprang toward the clothes on the second floor and began selecting with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Zhang Zhixu came back to himself, looked at what she’d pulled out, and immediately frowned. Not those.

Why?

Chen Baoxiang stroked the fabric with great fondness. Look at this gorgeous gold-embroidered wide-hemmed skirt — and it’s even inlaid with green gems.

It’s hideous.

Chen Baoxiang was indignant. How is this hideous? This makes it obvious at a glance that I have money.

That is precisely why it’s hideous.

He said, without patience, and pointed: Take that one — the snow-silk bright-patterned bodice — pair it with the brocade-woven small jacket beside it, and take the auspicious medallion patterned cloud-satin skirt hanging above.

Chen Baoxiang took them down as directed, then cast one last lingering look back at the bright red and gold embroidered skirt. Can’t we reconsider?

Go and change.

She disappeared headfirst into the dressing alcove.

The dirty hemp clothes were cast off into a far corner. Her hands were washed clean in the warm water a maidservant brought over. She put on the new outfit, looked in the mirror, and tilted her head. “The pattern is quite lovely — but why does something feel a little off?”

Zhang Zhixu, being squeezed into rather uncomfortable awareness, ground out through clenched teeth: “Have them replace the bodice with a larger size.”

“Oh, that explains it.”

She untied the fastenings and reached up to adjust things herself.

Zhang Zhixu: “…”

He closed his eyes, his voice coming out slightly unsteady. “Could you please not — not keep touching things in that general area.”

“It’s my own body — why shouldn’t I?” Chen Baoxiang looked left and right at herself in the mirror with total ease. “Besides, immortals don’t have a gender. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Immortals might not. He did.

Zhang Zhixu’s face had grown warm. He grabbed the new bodice the maidservant brought and got it fastened over her as quickly as possible.

“Won’t I be cold dressed like this?” Chen Baoxiang touched her exposed collarbone. “It’s not even spring yet.”

“Wealthy households have warming braziers at every entrance, and personal hand warmers at their side at all times. Being dressed lightly is the look.” He said. “If you want to fit in, you have to do it properly.”

“I see.”

Chen Baoxiang tried on two more outfits. She had to admit the Great Immortal’s choices were genuinely good — the longer she looked, the better she liked them.

Though her body was behaving rather strangely. She was growing warmer and warmer, and there was an odd, prickling sensation low in her abdomen.

She reached for tea and drank a mouthful — didn’t help. She pressed herself against the clothes hanging nearby — still strange.

“Enough.” Zhang Zhixu took control of her body, the words coming out from somewhere he’d clenched very tight. “We’re going back.”

Already? Chen Baoxiang wailed. “I still wanted to look at the hairpins.”

“You can’t look at hairpins right now.”

“I suppose that’s true — something does feel odd.” She murmured, reaching a hand downward.

Zhang Zhixu stopped her with reflexive speed.

His breath was running hot. His heartbeat was erratic. He closed his eyes, pulled her lapel closed, and walked.

Both of them were deeply uncomfortable. He walked fast. Chen Baoxiang still managed to grab a few hairpins and ornaments as they went — though not many. At the door, the proprietor tallied everything and announced that she was owed two additional taels in credit.

Chen Baoxiang was delighted. Zhang Zhixu waved a hand: “Keep it.”

They hired a cart outside and made it back to Xun Yuan at speed.

The moment the door was shut, he wrung out a cold damp cloth and began wiping her down — neck, back, again and again — three or four passes before the heat subsided.

Chen Baoxiang sagged weakly across the bed. “Was I poisoned?”

Zhang Zhixu turned his face away. “Something like that.”

“This is a strange poison,” she said with a light laugh. “It made Young Master Pei appear over and over in my head, running back and forth.”