Had any outsider been present, they surely would have rolled their eyes several times over at those words. Was that matching? That was gilding a chamber pot.

But there was no outsider present, and so Zhang Zhixu was perfectly content to bury his conscience and agree: “Indeed. Even better than the few lines Pei and Cen managed at the time.”

“Right?!” She cupped her face in her hands, eyes shining with delight.

They were no longer in the same body, and yet watching her be so happy, Zhang Zhixu felt as though he could still sense that warm, tingling pleasure washing over the crown of his head.

“Days like this are truly wonderful.”

Chen Baoxiang leaned back with her hands propped against the roof ridge and looked up at the moon. “It’s a shame I’m almost fully recovered. Starting tomorrow I have to go back to work at the bureau.”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“How could I not? I worked so hard to pass that examination, and I’m still waiting for them to pay me.” She was filled with ambition. “Besides, I’m confident — as long as I work hard, I’m sure to be promoted quickly.”

She governed with competence; just a few days into her post and she had already accomplished quite a bit. By all accounts, her official career should have been smooth sailing.

But Zhang Zhixu knew that officialdom was not as simple as letting the capable rise. The hidden currents within it were not something an ordinary person without connections — like her — could easily navigate.

He was still weighing whether to offer her a word of advice when Chen Baoxiang turned to look at him first.

“Immortal, what about you?” She looked genuinely worried. “Zhang Zhixu holds a high position of great authority. You know nothing of these affairs — if you’re found out, it could cost you your life.”

She was turning around and worrying about him?

Zhang Zhixu felt both amused and moved, but in the spirit of cooperating with her sincerity, he sighed along with her. “Yes. What are we to do?”

“It doesn’t matter — I’m in the Bureau of Military Officers after all. If anything comes up, just call for me and I’ll come provide backup.” She thumped her chest with breezy confidence. “I can’t claim much, but when it comes to talking your way out of things, I’ve never failed a single time.”

She was getting smug again.

Zhang Zhixu smiled. “Then I’ll be in Official Chen’s capable hands.”

“Consider it done.” Chen Baoxiang wore the expression of someone who had everything under control.

Mingzhu Tower gleamed like the moon. Up above, the true moon shone its clear, brilliant light down on them.

The wine jar tipped over on its side, and a few last drops of wine spilled out. Two people, propping each other up as they went, clambered back through a half-open window into the room.

Early the following morning, when Jiuquan carried in a basin of water and entered the room, he found Chen Baoxiang sprawled across his master’s bed fast asleep — while his master had apparently squeezed himself onto the small side couch and made do there for the night.

He promptly shut the door first, then stepped forward to rouse these two lords of chaos: “Quick, before the nursemaids see — they’ll never stop lecturing…Heavens above, Master, did you drink?”

Zhang Zhixu was not one for wine and only ever touched it at formal banquets out of courtesy. Under normal circumstances, he rarely so much as glanced at it.

But now, he was clearly emerging from a night of drinking, his robes slipping off one shoulder: “What of it?”

“You…oh, never mind. Up, up, time to wash and get ready — you’re expected at the office shortly.”

Those words didn’t stir Zhang Zhixu, but they jolted Chen Baoxiang into opening her eyes wide with a start: “The office?! I’m going to be late!”

She scrambled upright at speed, grabbed the cloth from Jiuquan’s basin, wrung it out, gave her own face a hasty wipe, gave Zhang Zhixu’s face a hasty wipe as well, and announced, “Come on, come on, let’s go.”

Zhang Zhixu had never been treated quite like this in his life. His face was practically being scrubbed into a crumple. He clutched his robe, pulled her back by the wrist, and frowned deeply.

“Don’t you know how to dress yourself?” She was pulled back, looked him up and down in one swift assessment, then briskly tied the sash on his inner robe and grabbed the official uniform from the rack beside them, draping it over his shoulders.

Her arms, cradling the clothing, wrapped around him from each side — as intimate as an embrace.

Zhang Zhixu sat there quietly and let her dress him in the official uniform, even cooperatively raising one arm to help.

Once everything was properly in place, he said at last, without hurry: “I don’t get fined for being late.”

Which meant he had absolutely no need to rush alongside her.

Chen Baoxiang’s hands froze mid-motion as she was tying on his jade pendant. She pointed a trembling finger at the tip of his nose: “And you’re only telling me this now?”

She, on the other hand, would be docked pay — and not a small amount, either. A full hundred coins.

With a wail of dismay, she spun around and bolted for the door. Passing the queue of maids bringing in breakfast, she seized a meat bun on her way.

Zhang Zhixu gave a low laugh, straightened the sash she’d tied crookedly, and looked down for a moment. Then, as though something had just dawned on him, he laughed once more.

Jiuquan stood beside him with the basin, still unable to figure it out.

What on earth was so funny?

But when Miss Baoxiang left, it was as though the sun itself had gone with her. The room grew dim, and the master’s expression gradually settled back into seriousness. “A quick wash, then to Guangsha Quarter.”

“Yes.”

In the days that he and Chen Baoxiang had been recovering from their injuries, the soldiers under Cheng Huaili’s command had gone on a rampage — not only smashing up several Zhang family shops, but even going so far as to cause trouble at the imperially commissioned Guangsha Quarter. They had burned the foundation timbers and beaten the tile-setters and masons.

Guangsha Quarter, originally planned for completion before the onset of winter, had now been forced to a standstill.

Aware of how complicated the situation had become, Zhang Zhixu had specifically arranged to meet Xie Lanting there, and had brought along a sizable number of bureau officers.

But when they went in their official capacity, the troublemakers hid behind bureaucratic excuses and stalling. When they changed into plain clothes hoping to infiltrate the area, the troublemakers sent over a hundred street ruffians to intimidate and obstruct them.

When Zhang Zhixu used official orders to summon two hundred patrol soldiers, the troublemakers scattered entirely, vanishing without a trace.

Xie Lanting’s expression was grim. “This is pure thuggery.”

“Which is exactly why it’s so difficult to handle.” Zhang Zhixu stepped inside and made a frowning circuit of the area. “The court is busy preparing for His Majesty’s spring outing to Tianning Mountain, and most available hands have been redirected there. Only a little over twenty bureau officers could be spared for this site — and all of them were borrowed from Chen Baoxiang.”

With insufficient manpower and exceedingly cunning ruffians who were expert at exploiting gaps in the patrol schedule to cause trouble, the situation was a headache.

As proof: they had guarded the site for half an hour, and the moment they stepped away to deal with something elsewhere, the troublemakers materialized again.

Ningsu was stationed up front keeping Zhang Zhixu protected, so he himself was in no danger — but right in front of him, those men shattered a tile-setter’s hand. The move was so swift and brutal that even when he lunged forward to intervene, it was already too late. In the chaos, he had even exposed a flaw in his cover, nearly getting a blow to the head from one of the ruffians.

The tile-setter’s scream tore through the air, and the sound of it made Zhang Zhixu’s eyes go red.

He could reason with people through law and argument, and he could face them with real blades. But he found himself momentarily at a loss for how to deal with this kind of brazen street-level brutality.

He was just about to call the patrol back again when a clear, piercing whistle rang out behind him.

He turned.

Under the blazing sun, someone was drawing a blade and coming.

A new set of pale celadon porcelain-colored clothing moved with surprising softness in the spring breeze — the young woman wearing it was walking fast, and came striding around the street corner with the air of someone heading off to pick a fight with the village goose.

But then the eye traveled upward — and behind her, a crowd appeared.

Those people gripped swords and blades, brows stern and eyes cold, following her around the corner, dozens, then scores, until a dense, dark mass of them poured out — and the sheer weight of their presence sent bystanders scattering instantly from the road.

In moments, she had walked into Guangsha Quarter. The people behind her flooded in, forcefully retrieved the injured tile-setter, and pinned down more than half the ruffians on the scene.

“Who’s in charge here?” She swept her gaze around the area.

The ruffians were still insolent: “Our boss has already sent word — it doesn’t matter whether it’s the offices from Third or Fifth Street or the bureau officers from the outer ward. Don’t get in our way!”

“Oh~Is that right?” She gave an understanding nod.

Then she raised her blade scabbard and slammed it full force into the speaker’s face.