Xie Lanting was, after all, a man of experience. Even if Zhang Fengqing refused to admit it, Xie Lanting could read the situation clearly enough.

Friends? What friends — that was nothing more than a cover story for when feelings had quietly taken root and had yet to fully bloom.

His first instinct was to tease and joke. But then his gaze fell on the jade crown atop Zhang Zhixu’s head, and Xie Lanting hesitated. “You… have you sorted things out with the one in the palace?”

Zhang Zhixu’s footsteps halted.

As far back as the year he had placed third in the imperial examinations, the new Emperor had already shown an intention to arrange a marriage for him. It was only because the Zhang Family’s senior elders had jointly petitioned — explaining that Zhang Zhixu had entered religious cultivation from a young age and must wait until he came of age before returning to secular life — that the Emperor had grudgingly stayed his hand on the imperial decree.

Stayed, but not abandoned. In all the years since, whenever word got out that the Zhang Family was trying to arrange a match for him, the palace would send someone to apply pressure.

He was like a piece of meat someone had put a deposit on — still displayed on the butcher’s block, unable to be taken away by anyone, yet with no end in sight.

Everything around him seemed to suddenly magnify. The crack of fireworks rang in his ears; the wind made the lanterns beneath the eaves sway with a rustling clatter.

It was as though, in an instant, all five of his senses had awakened — his wandering soul finally settling back into this body so laden with shackles. The suffocation and pressure he had nearly forgotten came rolling back in layer after layer, until even breathing felt heavy.

The Second Young Master of the Zhang Family was the family’s great hope — the court’s favored top scholar, a man held by a string, his feet constrained, required to take one step after another in the prescribed direction.

He had no freedom, and naturally had no right to his own desires. The joy and contentment he had come to know through Chen Baoxiang was nothing more than heaven’s fleeting mercy — it would all be taken back in the blink of an eye.

What he ought to do now was facilitate a match between Xu Buran and Chen Baoxiang, fulfill his own promise, and then return to his original plan — to continue devoting himself entirely to the Zhang Family until his dying breath.

That was what reason told him he should do.

And yet —

Zhang Zhixu glanced sideways, looking toward that figure in the far courtyard.

She had taken a bite of meat that Han Xiao fed her and was contentedly narrowing her eyes — then a nearby broken bowl startled a loud “oh!” out of her, and she pulled out her abacus with an expression of anguish, muttering over how much the bowl was worth.

Joy, sorrow, excitement, pain.

Chen Baoxiang was vivid and alive — like a dream he had never dared to dream — painting color, bit by bit, over a world that had been nothing but black and white before his eyes.

He had lived her feelings. He had tasted what it was like to be alive.

To be suddenly flung back now into that numb and colorless abyss — how could he be willing?

Xie Lanting watched the expression on his face and, with some reluctance to wound him, began to murmur a steady stream of comfort — urging him to try to look on the bright side of things.

And then, mid-sentence, he heard Zhang Zhixu say quietly, “If I don’t try, how will I know I can’t manage it?”

Light words, carrying a note of defiance Xie Lanting had never heard from him before.

Xie Lanting was startled. “Don’t act recklessly — the Emperor has already spoken on this matter—”

“He has spoken, but no formal decree has yet been issued.” Zhang Zhixu turned to look at him. “How can you be so certain there won’t be any further turn of events?”

Xie Lanting was struck speechless.

The friend he had known for over a decade suddenly seemed to emit something he had never seen before — like a flame reigniting from dead ashes touched by rain, or a fish that had long sat motionless in still water, suddenly willing to struggle its way upstream.

“You.” His eyes went wide. “You want to defy the imperial will — for her?”

“It wouldn’t be quite right to say it’s for her.”

Zhang Zhixu walked toward Xu Buran, his robes trailing behind him. “I have things I want to do for myself as well.”

Chen Baoxiang, in circumstances far more dire than his, had managed to fight her way to survive this long. He had power, influence, food, and shelter — what right did he have to lose heart and surrender everything?

In the distance, Xu Buran had not yet fully recovered his composure, and only stared blankly as he approached.

“Fengqing?” He spoke up.

Zhang Zhixu came to a stop before him and looked him calmly in the eye. “Before, when Chen Baoxiang was moving, you asked me a question at the front gate.”

Xu Buran thought for a moment. “The question about Miss Chen?”

“Mm. Ask it again.”

Not quite understanding, Xu Buran repeated it obediently, “Do you have feelings for Miss Chen?”

“Yes.” Zhang Zhixu gave a nod.

“I don’t understand the matters of love. I don’t know how deep these feelings go, nor how long they will last.” He said it openly and without evasion. “But right now, in this moment — I do. You’ve asked me to help you pursue her, and I’m not willing to do that.”

Xu Buran’s pupils contracted. He stared at him in disbelief.

Xie Lanting, who had come running up behind them, was equally stunned — mouth agape, frozen like a wooden carving.

Another firework bloomed, streaking brilliantly down across the night sky between the three of them.

Zhang Zhixu felt, all at once, an extraordinary lightness. Along with the great stirring in his chest, a tingling numbness spread through his fingertips, and his throat tightened.

This was an emotion he had never felt in Chen Baoxiang’s body — something beyond happiness, beyond excitement, with an unnamed ache of feeling woven through it.

Across from him, Xu Buran was silent for a long moment, and then suddenly laughed.

He gave Zhang Zhixu a good-natured slap on the shoulder, and with easy generosity said, “Then we each rely on our own abilities. I won’t ask for your help — but I won’t yield to you out of friendship either.”

Zhang Zhixu clicked his tongue and waved his fan to block the hand. “You think I need you to yield?”

Chen Baoxiang might be a little dense, but she wasn’t blind. How could she possibly set him aside and choose someone else?

And unlike Xu Buran, he knew her. He actually understood her. When the day came that he could be honest about his feelings, he certainly wouldn’t let her think he was asking her for money.

Xie Lanting, caught between the two of them, didn’t dare breathe too loudly.

He felt certain that both of his friends had lost their minds. All this talk of feelings and love — was it really worth this kind of standoff between them? If they had this much spare time, they might as well come with him to Chunfeng Tower to listen to music.

What was even more alarming was that the two men were just planted there, staring each other down, and neither of them showed any intention of being the first to leave.

“I say,” Xie Lanting waved a hand between them, “why don’t we all just go home first?”

“You go on ahead.” Xu Buran smiled at Zhang Zhixu. “I still have a gift I haven’t finished giving.”

Zhang Zhixu replied lazily, “I can’t leave either — she’ll definitely come looking for me again soon.”

“Fengqing is very confident.”

“You, on the other hand, lack a certain self-awareness.”

“She said she still had something to say to me later.”

“Then we’ll both wait here and see who she calls for first.”

“Very well.”

The two of them turned simultaneously to look toward the courtyard in the distance.

Chen Baoxiang, the unsuspecting eye of the storm, had no idea what was happening. She was busy at her abacus, clicking away — one moment knitting her brows in worry, the next breaking into pure delight.

Then, as though something had just occurred to her, she lifted her head and looked over in their direction.

Xu Buran was a little tense. Zhang Zhixu appeared relaxed, though the knuckles of the hand gripping his fan had gone somewhat pale.

Xie Lanting was thoroughly exasperated. He was just about to say he would head out first — before the madness of these two rubbed off on him — when he heard Chen Baoxiang call out with breezy ease, “Lord Xie! Do you happen to be free right now?”

Xu Buran: “…”

Zhang Zhixu: “…”

Xie Lanting was dragged, entirely unprepared, straight into the eye of the storm himself.

He pressed down his wind-tossed hair, pointed blankly at himself. “Me?”

“Yes.” Chen Baoxiang came hurrying over, smiling as she spoke. “I just heard from someone that you’ll be the first to know the outcome of Lu Shouhuai’s case.”

“Naturally — I am the presiding judge of the case.”

“In that case, may I have a word with you in private?” She clasped her hands in a courteous request.

Xie Lanting spread his hands helplessly at his two friends. It’s official business — this is official business. Please, whatever you do, don’t take it out on him.