He himself understood perfectly well how things stood — but in Chen Baoxiang’s eyes, the Great Immortal was the Great Immortal, and Zhang Zhixu was Zhang Zhixu.

She had wronged Zhang Zhixu greatly, and owed him a considerable sum of money.

Was it any wonder she behaved like a mouse that had come face to face with a cat?

Understanding settled clearly, he curved the corner of his mouth and called out toward the door: “Jiuquan, take the rest of them and go eat.”

“Yes.”

The room emptied of servants in one sweep, the door drawing shut behind them.

Zhang Zhixu picked up the bowl, selected a slice of bamboo shoot, and with a leisurely, drawn-out tone remarked: “Every other time you’ve been in trouble, you’ve known to call out to me. Today you’ve gone unusually quiet — not a single sound.”

Hmm?

Chen Baoxiang didn’t quite follow the words, but the tone felt familiar, so she shifted just slightly away from the wall.

The person at the bedside extended the chopsticks toward her, and said, heavy with meaning: “I told you — do as I say, and I’ll help you rise to a place of honour.”

Those unmistakably familiar words!

Chen Baoxiang’s mouth fell open: “Great — Great Immortal?”

Zhang Zhixu slipped a slice of bamboo shoot between her lips, the corners of his eyes curving with a smile: “Took you long enough.”

The bamboo shoot was so fragrant it made her sit straight up. She took the bowl from his hands and began to eat, glancing up at him from time to time in sheer disbelief: “You — you’ve gone and inhabited Zhang Zhixu’s body?”

“Is it not possible that I……” am Zhang Zhixu.

He hadn’t managed to get the second half out before the person opposite him suddenly burst into tears.

Large teardrops splashed down onto the small table with an audible sound, startling him. Then he frowned: “What are you crying for?”

“I thought — I thought you had abandoned me and gone off to save yourself.” She said, voice catching with hiccupping sobs. “I never imagined you had scraped together even those last faint traces of your power — just to find me a way out.”

“I — I should not have thought such things of you. You are the best Great Immortal in the whole world.”

“Once my injuries are healed, I will do whatever it takes to have a golden effigy made for you.”

Zhang Zhixu held still and caught her tears as they fell. After a long silence, he pressed a hand to his brow and let out a helpless, quiet laugh.

This fool — from start to finish she had never once suspected that he was Zhang Zhixu. Instead she had concluded that her Great Immortal had taken up residence in Zhang Zhixu’s body, and had therefore gone to rescue her.

Looked at that way — he was the Zhang Zhixu that everyone in Shangjing knew — and yet he was also the Great Immortal that only she knew.

He placed a piece of goose meat in her bowl, and went along with it: “Indeed — I’ve had quite a time of it.”

Chen Baoxiang immediately set to serving him in return, piling a piece of meat into his bowl: “You should have said so earlier — I wouldn’t have been worrying myself sick until now. Come, come, Great Immortal — try their food — it must be the freshest and most delicious in all of Shangjing.”

He had eaten all these dishes countless times and was thoroughly tired of them. That morning he had not even intended to eat — he had only brought one bowl out with him, for her.

But Chen Baoxiang had caught a piece of meat with her own bowl and aimed it straight at his mouth.

Zhang Zhixu was forced to take a bite.

Just as he had thought — eating with his own senses, it all tasted ordinary enough, bringing no surprise and no particular desire to continue.

But the person across from him was eating with such obvious pleasure. She was exclaiming as she went: “So fragrant — how can bamboo shoots smell better than chicken?”

“What is this little side dish made of — there’s a clean, sweet flavour running through it.”

“Heavens, this pastry crust is so flaky and good!”

In between exclamations, she helped herself to a bowl of porridge with a spoon.

“I am so happy,” she sighed, cradling the bowl. “What kind of immortal life do the Zhang family live.”

Zhang Zhixu listened, and somewhere in the listening realised he was hungry too, his throat bobbing involuntarily.

Chen Baoxiang was a considerate sort — she noticed his reaction and immediately, without a second thought, began placing morsels in his bowl with her own chopsticks and spoon.

Had it been anyone else, Zhang Zhixu would have sent both bowl and person flying out the door — the very idea of sharing utensils was revolting.

But with Chen Baoxiang — they had shared the same body. Why stand on such ceremony now?

He took a bite of whatever she’d placed before him.

Sharing a meal with someone there beside him seemed to make everything taste better. Chen Baoxiang ate until she was deeply satisfied. Zhang Zhixu, surprisingly, managed most of his as well.

“Great Immortal — will he wake up?” Patting her full stomach, Chen Baoxiang remembered to ask.

Zhang Zhixu rose and walked a few steps: “I don’t know. Right now there’s only me in this body.”

“That’s good then.” She broke into a beaming smile. “Then I won’t return the silver notes I still have on me.”

Still harbouring that thought? He couldn’t help a wry smile: “Those silver notes of yours were lost in the northern city prison. There’s nothing to return even if you wanted to.”

“What?!”

This time the blow was real. All colour drained from her face, and she flung up her hand so sharply she nearly overturned the table.

“Don’t move about like that.” Zhang Zhixu caught her firmly. “I’ve already sent people to look. Perhaps they can still be found.”

That much silver — whoever picked it up would never admit to it. This was surely a stone dropped into a deep sea, a bun thrown to a dog and never coming back.

At the thought that all the money she had scrimped and saved was gone without a trace, Chen Baoxiang felt the room tilt.

Zhang Zhixu removed the small table and helped her lie back down: “Stop talking so much. Rest properly.”

“No — no, I have to go find those silver notes myself.”

“You’re injured this badly, you can barely get out of bed, and you’re still thinking about going to find silver notes?” Zhang Zhixu shook his head.

“How can that be.” Chen Baoxiang murmured. “I don’t feel much pain at all — how serious can it be?”

“That’s because I used medicine worth half a scroll of the pharmacopoeia on your bleeding and pain.” He said, without amusement. “Anyone would stop feeling pain after that.”

Half a scroll?

Chen Baoxiang recalled the long list of medicinal ingredients the Great Immortal had once recited to her. Her eyelids, which had been about to fall shut with weakness, snapped back open in fright: “How much silver must that have cost?”

“Not much — the Zhang family’s young master can afford it.” He pressed, with an amused air, to cover her eyes. “Sleep.”

“My silver notes……”

“When you wake, I’ll give you two ingots of gold.”

The Great Immortal truly was a kind person — but was that not simply taking Zhang Zhixu’s money to give to her on the sly again?

Before consciousness faded, Chen Baoxiang murmured: “We owe the Zhang family’s young master so terribly much……”

“It doesn’t matter.” Zhang Zhixu turned to look out the window, and said softly: “What you’ve given him is not a small thing either.”

Greedy as she was, dramatic as she could be, prone to flattering the powerful and climbing toward wealth — but she was also kind, and vivid, and she ate with joy.

Though her good qualities were small, they were still good qualities. And though her faults were large — well, in time, in time, perhaps they could be changed.

With that quietly unreasonable partiality settling in him, Zhang Zhixu rose and went out.

He had been gravely ill and caused his parents months of worry. By rights, he ought to go and ask their forgiveness today.

But the moment he stepped into the main room, before he could even bow in greeting, his mother seized his arm.

“My son.” Gong Lan’s eyes lit with a keen and eager gleam. “That young woman — what is her name, where does she live, what does her family do?”

Hmm?

Zhang Zhixu was puzzled: “Why does Mother ask?”

Gong Lan raised her sleeve to her lips with a delicate air: “I simply see that you seem rather fond of her, and wish to know a little more.”

Fond of her?

Zhang Zhixu laughed and shook his head: “Mother misunderstands. She is merely a friend.”

How could what he felt toward Chen Baoxiang be anything as simple as romantic feeling? It was only that, having shared the same body, there was a particular and unusual bond between them.

Chen Baoxiang was the same way toward him.

Given her appalling taste in people — in her eyes, he was probably not half as appealing a prospect as Pei Ruheng.