The moment the word “Zhang” left his lips, the entire room fell silent again.

Lu Qingrong stared at him in disbelief.

She could roughly guess this man’s identity, but hearing him acknowledge it directly still struck her as absurd.

The Zhang Zhixu of legend — how exalted, how untouchable — and yet here he was, personally coming to collect a mistress, playing her hand in this filthy leaf-card game, and even standing up for her?

And besides, wasn’t a mistress supposed to kneel when she saw the head of the household? Chen Baoxiang had been this brazen, and Zhang Zhixu could tolerate it?

The more she thought about it, the more she shook her head. She was just about to voice her doubts when Cen Xuanyue said quietly, “I had been meaning to say — this gentleman looked somewhat familiar to me. I believe I may have seen him at the palace before.”

Among everyone present, though they had all attended Zhang Zhixu’s grand banquet at some point, only Cen Xuanyue had had the chance to meet him face to face. If she said so, it was as good as confirmed.

“So it turns out the city’s northern dungeon isn’t being managed for the Patrol Camp’s official business — it’s for the Lu Family’s private grievances.” Jiuquan stood in the back, reading aloud as he wrote it all down in his ledger.

Lu Qingrong’s expression finally changed. In a panic, she said, “That’s not it — I didn’t mean it like that. Chen Baoxiang drove me to say things I didn’t mean. She falsely accused my maid—”

Ningsu cut her off: “Then, in order to clear your maid’s name, it would be best to examine the matter here in open court.”

He turned to look at Pei Ruheng. “What does the master of the house say?”

Pei Ruheng had not expected things to take this turn. Zhang Zhixu’s status was too formidable — he was not someone Pei Ruheng could afford to provoke.

But out of consideration for the friendship between the Lu and Cheng families, he still hesitated and said to Ningsu, “That’s not quite right, is it? Forcing a young woman to prove her innocence in front of everyone like this.”

Zhang Zhixu’s expression grew strange at that. “So Pei-gongzi does understand that forcing a young woman to prove her own innocence is wrong.”

Back at the general’s estate, he had ordered his men to search Chen Baoxiang’s person without a second thought. Where was his sense of propriety then?

Pei Ruheng was left speechless.

Chen Baoxiang, deeply moved, clutched the sleeve of the immortal beside her and whispered, “I’d almost forgotten about that, and yet you still remembered it for me.”

“I’m not as easy-going as you are.” Zhang Zhixu tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You forget the pain the moment the wound heals.”

Chen Baoxiang: “……” He was awfully harsh — even scolding her along with everyone else.

But with the Great Immortal present, the situation tilted decidedly to one side. Pei Ruheng’s group fell silent, and Lu Qingrong dared not talk back.

One of the elder members of the Pei Family, who had been drinking upstairs, caught wind of what was happening and hurried down.

“Lord Zhang.” Pei Sihai came forward, wiping the sweat from his brow. “My son doesn’t know better. Please, Your Lordship, don’t lower yourself to his level.”

Ningsu extended an arm to hold him back to the side.

Pei Sihai hurriedly clasped his hands toward Ningsu. “Sirs, please calm your anger — this is all a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding.”

Zhang Zhixu paid him no mind, his gaze languidly fixed on the maid who had been cheating at cards.

Pei Sihai quickly instructed the matrons standing behind him, “Go search her at once!”

Several matrons restrained Lu Qingrong’s maid, and within moments, they pulled more than a dozen leaf-card tiles from inside her upper garment.

The truth was now plain for all to see. Lu Qingrong’s face flushed red all the way to her neck. She had no choice but to cut ties on the spot. “You wretched girl — you hid this disgraceful conduct from me!”

The maid knelt on the floor, apologizing over and over.

“Get out of my sight this instant. I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

With that, Lu Qingrong quickly pulled out a thick stack of banknotes and placed them on the table. “The fault lies with my subordinate for disturbing Lord Zhang’s evening. Whatever was won or lost today — I’ll cover it all.”

Each note in that crisp white stack bore a face value of one hundred taels. The pile amounted to no less than a thousand.

Zhang Zhixu said nothing more, but Chen Baoxiang was like a mole that had struck a bountiful harvest — beaming with delight as she snatched up the notes and began dividing them. “One for Miss Cen, one for me — one for Ruomei, one for me — one for Miss Li — wait, no, you didn’t win, so I’ll give myself an extra one.”

With so many people watching in the room, Lu Qingrong clenched her teeth and thought: even if she had no shame, surely Lord Zhang would want to put a stop to this.

But she turned and looked — Zhang Zhixu not only made no move to stop her, he stood there with his arms crossed, calmly waiting.

“My lord.” Pei Sihai addressed him cautiously from beyond Ningsu’s outstretched arm. “The matter has been resolved. Shall we…?”

Jiuquan brought forward a gift box, presenting it to him with both hands. Zhang Zhixu took it and spoke. “It is your son’s birthday — my congratulations are in order. Zhang has other affairs to attend to and will not impose further.”

“Lord Zhang, your gift is far too generous — far too generous.” Pei Sihai wiped his sweat and accepted it, then followed alongside him toward the exit, attentively saying, “There are many distinguished guests seated upstairs — won’t you do us the honor of…”

His voice grew fainter with each step, until it was already outside the door.

Pei Ruomei couldn’t help but remind Chen Baoxiang, “Lord Zhang is getting further away.”

“Just a moment, I haven’t finished counting the money yet.” She didn’t even turn her head, still holding the banknotes up to examine the watermarks.

Pei Ruomei was first taken aback, then after a moment seemed to understand. “Earlier, they said you had given your heart to someone else, and I couldn’t make sense of it. Knowing how my sister once risked her life for my brother, how could she give up so easily?”

“But today, I think I finally see it clearly. Sister made the right choice — that Lord Zhang is far better than my brother.”

Zhang Zhixu was certainly better than Pei Ruheng in every way — everyone knew that. It was only through the blessing of the Great Immortal that someone like her could ever have any connection to a man as distinguished as Zhang Zhixu.

Chen Baoxiang smiled along, her attention still on the banknotes.

But Pei Ruomei added one more line: “Setting aside wealth and status — in terms of genuine feeling alone, my brother cannot compare.”

The hand holding the banknotes stiffened. Chen Baoxiang looked up at Ruomei in puzzlement, then turned to glance at the door. “Genuine feeling?”

“Yes.” Sun Fuyu also leaned her head in, winking meaningfully. “If he didn’t have you in his heart, why would he have lowered himself to come here today?”

“He said he was hungry,” Chen Baoxiang replied, puzzled. “Don’t you go to a restaurant when you’re hungry?”

“Yes, you’d naturally go to a restaurant when you’re hungry.” Pei Ruomei nodded. “But sister — since he walked through that door until now, has he eaten a single thing?”

Chen Baoxiang froze.

The hour past midnight was already half gone. The night sky above blazed with stars.

When she burst out through the main doors clutching her banknotes, she found Zhang Zhixu leaning against the carriage, waiting — his gaze cool, his features transcendently handsome.

She ran toward him with quick, drumming steps, eyes wide. “Great Immortal, are you hungry?”

“You’re hungry again?” Zhang Zhixu flicked his sleeves and stepped into the carriage. “We’ll eat when we’re home — there’s a late-night meal in the kitchen.”

“That’s not what I—” She climbed in after him and said haltingly, “If there was food in the kitchen, why come out to eat?”

Zhang Zhixu paused, then settled naturally back into his seat. “You know I keep to mealtime rules when I dine.”

“Then back at Zhaixing Tower — did you eat anything?”

He glanced sideways at her. The young woman across from him looked oddly nervous, her cheeks flushed, her eyes restless.

He gave a soft, amused huff. “Tower cakes, aromatic fish pastries.”

Chen Baoxiang immediately leaned in and sniffed at him.

This man was pampered with great care — his robes were always prepared with specially formulated incense, the scent like the morning dew of mountain valleys mingled with the breath of agarwood, clean and remarkably pleasant.

But wait — that wasn’t what she came to smell.

She moved her nose upward, leaned close to his lips, and sniffed carefully.

Zhang Zhixu remained still against the carriage wall, his gaze falling on the lips of the two now uncomfortably close together. He asked her softly, “What are you trying to do?”