Impressive it certainly was, to conjure so many things.

But —

Chen Baoxiang was thoroughly puzzled: If you can conjure all this, why not just conjure silver directly?

Zhang Zhixu: …

He shook his head and sighed: Wild boars really can’t handle fine grain.

The maidservant who had delivered everything was admirably perceptive. She took one look at Chen Baoxiang’s condition, guided her back to bed to rest, helped her take everything one by one, then had her hold the warming brazier and remain still. Whenever things became uncomfortable below, she was to get up and change.

Chen Baoxiang gave it a try and found that the cloth from wealthy households was simply on another level compared to ash pouches. Not only was it free of mess and stickiness, it was light and gentle. With this entire set of things in place, her mood actually began to lift.

Zhang Zhixu finally let out a long breath of relief, and gave a smug little huff: “Can’t you thank the Great Immortal?”

“Thank you, Great Immortal!” Chen Baoxiang was honey-tongued about it, smiling her most shameless smile. “I also want to eat the sauce-braised pork buns from the bun shop on the east side of the city — could you conjure one of those too?”

“Just send a servant to buy them. Why use immortal techniques for something so simple?” he said. “What else do you want to eat? Tell them all at once.”

“I also want to eat a grand five-gate mansion on Xuanwumen with bronze-studded carriage shafts, and a canopied carriage to match. And while you’re at it, a few enormous jade stones, ice-green and glittering.”

Zhang Zhixu snatched up the blanket and threw it over her head.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? Putting you to sleep to dream, naturally.” He said, with a cold smile.

Chen Baoxiang yanked the blanket off and laughed, and after laughing for a while, sighed. “What a shame you’re an immortal. If you were just an ordinary man, what place would Pei Ruheng even have?”

Zhang Zhixu caught the off-note in her tone. “What has Pei Ruheng done now?”

“Today they arranged to go spring outing together. I said I was ill and resting at Xun Yuan, so they wrote letters to ask after me.”

She picked up a handful of envelopes, her face scrunching: “The messenger said there’s one from Pei Ruheng inside, but I can’t read. Great Immortal, could you take a look?”

Zhang Zhixu flipped through them casually. Several letters of piled-up florid phrases and affected sentimentality — reading them made his brow furrow. Cen Xuanyue’s was reasonable enough, but when read through, it was nothing more than a polite inquiry.

One envelope had brushwork that was forceful and vigorous.

He unfolded it and scanned it, and paused slightly.

Bewitching eyes, willow waist swaying, in the heart of spring. Regretful and bitter — for what reason, the one within my heart. No mood to lean alone against the solitary pillow. Sometimes grief beside the layered quilts. Wind rises, catkins fly as evening falls — I sit with furrowed brow.

This was a verse by Yu Yan. It spoke of a fine spring season and yet every line ached for a beloved — using scenery to express what the heart feels, employed here in a moment when this good springtime could not be shared. Truly remarkable, were it not for one thing.

— Were it not for the fact that he had already become entangled with Cen Xuanyue.

Zhang Zhixu found himself genuinely baffled. Hadn’t this man already looked down on Chen Baoxiang? Why was he now sending this kind of achingly sentimental verse? Could it be that he was stringing someone along on one side while refusing to let go on the other?

How convenient, to have secured every good thing all at once.

“Great Immortal, what does it say?” Chen Baoxiang turned it over in her hands, looking. “Is it a love poem?”

“No.” He denied it flatly, and said without much patience: “He’s mocking you. He’s saying how beautiful it is out there in the spring — too bad, in other words, that you haven’t the fortune to see any of it.”

Chen Baoxiang: “…”

Pei-gongzi usually seemed like a decent, proper person. How could he be so underhanded about things.

She flopped down onto the pillow in a huff. “Who cares about him. Right now I am Zhang Zhixu’s woman!”

Zhang Zhixu choked. “What?”

“Great Immortal, have you forgotten? That banquet at the big mansion the other day.” She grumbled. “Those people claimed they’d keep quiet, but it’s barely been two days and it’s practically spread all over Shangjing — word is that I’m someone Zhang Zhixu is keeping on the outside, and apparently I’m rather well-favored at that.”

An ordinary woman would never live in his residence, nor know his friends, nor be able to give orders to his servants.

And Chen Baoxiang — not only did she check every single one of those boxes, she had even been to the Zhang family’s main estate. The only explanation people could find was that her background wasn’t quite right, otherwise she’d have been brought in properly long ago.

— So they all said.

Zhang Zhixu rubbed a hand down his face.

He truly hadn’t anticipated things developing like this. His first thought was concern: “For your reputation, this might…”

“Miss, a visitor has arrived,” the maidservant outside called.

Chen Baoxiang pressed a hand to her aching head. “I told them not to come — why are they here anyway?”

Before the words finished landing, Sun Fuyu and the others had already let themselves in, looking all around and exclaiming: “So grand! And this is only a secondary residence?”

Lin Guilan was equally astonished: “A small pavilion built in the middle of a lake — that must have cost a fortune.”

Wei Qingzhao, behind them, still had the manners to ask Chen Baoxiang first: “Are you feeling better, Miss?”

Zhang Zhixu was mystified: Weren’t these people supposed to be going on a spring outing?

They were — but when they heard I was ill and couldn’t come, they all insisted on coming to visit.

Why?

Why else — the name Zhang Zhixu is worth more than silver in Shangjing. If anyone can claim even the faintest connection to it, they’d rush over through a hailstorm of knives to do so.

As Chen Baoxiang muttered this, she straightened her back and put on her best composed manner: “It’s not anything serious — please don’t be so alarmed.”

“How could we not be alarmed? You’re the most well-regarded of all of us now.” Sun Fuyu leaned forward, holding out a box and opening it in front of her. “My father and mother specifically asked me to bring this along as a get-well gift.”

Inside: a jade ruyi of exquisite craftsmanship, clearly of considerable value.

Zhang Zhixu was just about to remind her that accepting gifts came with obligations — but Chen Baoxiang had already shot her hand out and swept the ruyi into her arms: “What a treasure!”

He pressed his hand to his forehead: You actually dare to accept that?

Why would I ever refuse money that’s delivered to my door?

You’re not worried they’ll ask you to do things for them?

What could I possibly do for them? If I don’t add to their troubles, they should count themselves lucky.

Chen Baoxiang, entirely untroubled, took Lin Guilan’s box next: “Oh, and this is…?”

“A woodcarving from the western regions.” Lin Guilan lifted her chin. “A genuine rarity, worth a fortune.”

What rarity — it’s just a piece of wood. Silver would have been far more practical.

Chen Baoxiang forced a smile, then let out a pained “ouch” and sank back against the pillow.

Several of the young women immediately rushed to pour her tea and swap out her warming brazier for a fresh one, all bustle and attentiveness — entirely unlike the way they had looked down on her before.

Zhang Zhixu understood. Even as an outside companion, his woman was someone these people found well worth cultivating. Reputation was a secondary matter; interest came first.

No wonder Chen Baoxiang had been willing to go hungry rather than dress poorly before. Being fawned upon was infinitely better than being looked down on.

These young women had none of them passed any examinations, but they had spent their years mixing in Shangjing’s prominent circles, and their information was first-rate. The moment they sat down, they were eagerly telling Chen Baoxiang: “Did you know? That story they told at Zhaixing Tower before — apparently it’s true.”

“Ah?” Chen Baoxiang pushed herself up to sitting.

Wei Qingzhao tucked a soft cushion behind her and said, arranging things as she spoke: “The Court of Judicial Review was recently ordered to investigate a case. Apparently they found that General Cheng did in fact have two sons before he enlisted — one called Dazhu and one called Erzhu — both names are in the enlistment register. But by the time they got to the frontier, he was calling them his nephews.”

“Isn’t this the very same story as the lame-legged faithless man and the noble lady?”