“We’ve had enough wine — let’s play a game of leaf-card instead.” Pei Ruheng’s younger sister pulled her brother away, giving Chen Baoxiang a way out of the situation. “Does elder sister know how to play leaf-cards?”

Leaf-cards were soft paper tiles, featuring the Four Sacred Beasts as their suits, with the number of beast heads indicating the point value — higher tiles beat lower ones, and the first player to play out all their tiles won.

Chen Baoxiang had learned this game shortly after arriving in Shangjing, and at her most destitute had even used it to win two steamed buns to fill her stomach — her card skills were more than decent.

But she only shook her head. “I’ve played a few times, but I wouldn’t dare bet heavily.”

“You’ve already made your fortune — what is there to dare or not dare?” Lu Qingrong immediately said. “Let’s set it at five taels of silver per token.”

“Isn’t five taels quite a lot? If you fill the board in a single hand, the winnings and losses could be in the tens of taels,” she said with an expression of worry.

Lu Qingrong crossed her arms and laughed with disdain: “Tens of taels and you’re already afraid? Everyone here today is someone of standing — who lacks this trifling amount?”

With that, she had someone bring out the leaf-cards and pressed Chen Baoxiang down into a seat at the small table.

Chen Baoxiang looked apprehensive, picking up and playing cards slowly and hesitantly.

Lu Qingrong was extremely smug about it, deliberately playing tiles to beat Chen Baoxiang’s plays, trying to get her to lose as much as possible — ideally losing so badly she couldn’t show her face, becoming the laughingstock that all of Shangjing would gossip about for days.

But somehow, for reasons she couldn’t explain, her luck seemed terribly poor today — she couldn’t beat the tiles she’d intended to beat, and the tiles she threw in kept feeding right into Chen Baoxiang’s hand.

After several rounds, not only had she failed to win, she had actually lost over twenty tokens to Chen Baoxiang.

“That’s too many, isn’t it?” Chen Baoxiang blinked at her. “Sister Lu, why don’t we lower the stakes?”

Lu Qingrong had originally intended to be the one to say this — but since Chen Baoxiang had gotten there first, she as the loser found herself with nowhere to back down to, and could only grit her teeth and say, “What does that amount to? Let’s keep going.”

“I’m out~”

“Oh my, Sister Lu has such lovely tiles — but look, they fed right into mine and I’m out again~”

“I’m so sorry, this hand is a full sweep again~”

Chen Baoxiang won hand after hand, winning all the while murmuring apologies.

Cen Xuanyue and Pei Ruheng’s younger sister took it relatively well — they accepted their losses gracefully, and their families weren’t short of this money. But Lu Qingrong’s expression grew darker and darker with each round.

At this rate, wasn’t she going to lose a small courtyard to her?

She looked left and right and gave a light cough toward someone nearby.

Chen Baoxiang was just about to play her tile when a maidservant suddenly appeared behind Lu Qingrong and said, “My mistress is tired and needs a rest — let your servant help you look at your cards.”

Lu Qingrong immediately handed over the tiles.

Their debts were settled as one household’s account, so Chen Baoxiang didn’t particularly mind the substitution.

What she hadn’t anticipated, though, was that this maidservant was a formidable player — not only did she reverse the tide despite the poor luck, she won several full sweeps right from the start.

Chen Baoxiang looked at the woman’s sleeves and sensed something was wrong; she reached out to grab hold of her, but caught nothing.

“What — can’t take a loss?” Lu Qingrong said triumphantly, hands on her hips. “If you can’t take a loss, that’s quite an embarrassment to the Zhang Family.”

“I was just checking the time.” Chen Baoxiang looked at the remaining tokens she had. “Why don’t we stop here for today?”

“Don’t try to wriggle out of it — you won so many tokens off me. You don’t get to leave until every last token in this box has been lost.” Lu Qingrong made a gesture, and several maidservants moved to block Chen Baoxiang’s path.

Chen Baoxiang froze.

The played tiles hit the table and stirred a faint breeze, drifting past the noisy windowsill and up toward the towering heights of Bright Pearl Tower.

Zhang Zhixu had long since extinguished his lamp and retired for the night — but midway through sleep, he suddenly opened his eyes.

He sat up and reached out to feel the wooden figurine placed at the side of his bed, frowning as he asked: “Has the person next door still not returned?”

The young servant dozing on the low stool rubbed his eyes and said, “No sign of her, master — not a sound.”

She must really be having the time of her life over there.

Irritated, he rolled over and thought to himself — he wasn’t going to bother with her. If she drank herself to death, that was her own problem.

But then, eyes blinking, he thought again: but what if she really did drink herself to death? Who would go report for duty at the yamen tomorrow? Military officers were in scarce supply in court these days — if there were no one as naturally gifted and immediately impressible as her to take her place, who knew when they’d ever be able to bring down Cheng Huaili.

Restless, he climbed out of bed and sluggishly issued an order: “Get me dressed. Have the carriage prepared.”

“Where does master wish to go?”

“The moonlight is pleasant tonight. Just a stroll around the streets.”

Shangjing’s moonlight filled the sky — just standing at Bright Pearl Tower alone, one could see eight-tenths of it. What was the point of going elsewhere to look?

The servant didn’t dare ask further, and crept past the sleeping old nurse to rouse Jiuquan the steward, accompanying this difficult and temperamental young master as they quietly slipped out the back gate.

Chen Baoxiang sat at the card table, on the verge of tears.

Not only had all her winnings been lost back, she had also forfeited over a dozen tokens from her own pocket.

To Lu Qingrong, that sum was nothing — but to Chen Baoxiang, it felt like someone was scraping the flesh from her bones.

The maidservant opposite was absolutely cheating, and Chen Baoxiang had caught sight of the suspicious movements several times already — but she couldn’t get hold of solid proof, and was being kept from leaving early.

Wailing to herself, she reached into her pouch and felt the figurine inside, and then felt amused at herself for doing it. The immortal had already said this thing wouldn’t work — how could he possibly come to her rescue upon hearing her call?

“Can’t take a loss now?” Lu Qingrong said with satisfaction. “Nobody leaves until Daybreak Watch. That’s final.”

“Daybreak Watch?” Chen Baoxiang frowned. “By Daybreak Watch I need to report for duty at the Bureau of Works.”

“That official post of yours, bought with sweet words on a pillow — who cares whether you show up or not.”

With that, the maidservant in front of her played out all her tiles again.

Lu Qingrong laughed with delight, clapping her hands: “Pay up — full sweep, this round is a full sweep too.”

Pei Ruheng had originally still been nursing his grievance toward Chen Baoxiang, but watching this scene unfold, even he was beginning to feel a twinge of sympathy and said, “Let her go.”

“Don’t try to meddle!” Lu Qingrong narrowed her eyes. “Everyone here can afford these few tokens — we’re playing it out to the end today.”

“But you swapped players,” Chen Baoxiang said, dissatisfied.

Lu Qingrong scoffed: “Who says you can’t swap players? I swapped — and if you have someone on your side, you can swap too.”

In the middle of the night like this, where was she going to find someone to replace her? And besides, even her superior card skills had led to a loss like this — anyone else who came would only fare worse.

Her fingers stiff, Chen Baoxiang fumbled and, without quite holding on, the highest tile in her hand wobbled and began to fall toward the floor.

“Hey, hey — tiles that hit the ground count as played!” Lu Qingrong called out with excitement. “My maidservant has a small tile, and you’re coming at her with your highest one. Good—”

That final word hadn’t finished falling from her lips when the tile was caught in someone’s hand.

Lu Qingrong looked up in displeasure, just about to call out to Pei Ruheng to stop interfering — but the face she looked up into was one she’d never seen before.

A pair of brilliant eyes dark as lacquer, two brow arches curved like crescent moons lying on their sides, his gaze still as autumn water, his robes cut from what seemed like thin mist. The man pinched the tile between his fingers, straightened to his full height, and his gaze descended — like snow pressing down upon a winter-plum branch.

Behind him, seven or eight attendants stood arrayed in quiet formation, gently but firmly keeping the drunk and careening guests at a distance of half a zhang from him.

The room gradually quieted, and everyone turned to stare at him in astonishment.

Pei Ruheng rose to his feet, about to ask which guest this person had come with — but he saw the man step past him and walk directly to Chen Baoxiang’s side, meeting Lu Qingrong’s gaze with unhurried ease and saying:

“I’ll play in her place.”