Three months — what was so difficult about three months?

Zhang Zaixin set his face in a cool expression and returned to his room. The next morning he left early, not even eating at home.

By the third day he had simply sent word through Uncle Ningsu that he had matters to attend to and wouldn’t be returning to sleep there.

By the fourth day he had finally heard the news: Meng Tujin had gone home.

Satisfied, he turned his footsteps in the direction of home at last.

On his way he passed a few familiar classmates, their faces a collection of black eyes and swollen noses.

Thinking of Tujin’s own injuries, Zhang Zaixin narrowed his eyes and stepped in to block their path, intending to find out who had started the fight.

But the moment those classmates caught sight of him, their faces went as white as paper. They clasped their hands together in urgent supplication: “Truly, it was a moment of careless speech — we would never dare again, and Meng Tujin has already given us our punishment. Please, show mercy.”

What?

Zhang Zaixin looked at them blankly: “Careless speech?”

Taking it as sarcasm, they screwed up their faces and begged: “Wasn’t it just saying you had connections, that your examination path wasn’t clean? We were only talking without thinking — who knew Meng Tujin would take it so seriously.”

So that was what she’d gone to fight over?

Zhang Zaixin stood still, looking from their minor injuries to his mental image of Tujin, bruised and swollen — and grew even more annoyed: “You said something wrong first, and you still had the nerve to hit her back?”

“We were wronged, Master Zhang — she came at us like she had nothing to lose, and if we hadn’t defended ourselves, she’d have killed us.” They pulled back their sleeves to show him an array of cuts and welts along their arms.

Zhang Zaixin shook off their hands in distaste and strode quickly toward home.

“Mother!” he called out the moment he was through the door.

Chen Baoxiang was reclining in the main hall, one leg crossed over the other. She glanced up at his shout: “Stop bellowing. She’s already been sent home.”

“Already gone?” He stopped in his tracks.

“If she hadn’t left, would you have been willing to come back?” Chen Baoxiang said without warmth. “I’ve never seen anyone be such a poor excuse for a classmate — knowing full well the girl’s home life isn’t good, and still sending her back covered in injuries. Who knows whether new wounds got piled on top of the old ones. You ought to be ashamed.”

“What do you mean, her home life isn’t good?” Zhang Zaixin was even more confused. “She can buy herself a pony just like that — how bad can it be?”

Chen Baoxiang shook her head: “Her father is Meng Xingdao — a worthless man. He drove away his first wife the moment he took up with someone new, and naturally he never gave a thought to his first wife’s daughter either. She was dumped in the wet nurse’s yard and raised however it happened. Her wet nurse is a kind soul and quietly slipped her money on the side — without that, she’d have gone hungry at the academy.”

“That pony you mentioned — I did hear about it. Tujin had been saving her money for over a decade, planning to use it as a dowry. She was afraid of falling too far behind when walking with you, so she took everything she had and bought that horse. She still owes the horse dealer half the price, and she pays it back in monthly installments.”

Chen Baoxiang’s frown deepened with each word. “She never did anything wrong. Why did you have to treat her the way you did?”

Zhang Zaixin stood there for some time.

He had spent his life not looking back — once he walked ahead, he never bothered to glance over his shoulder — and naturally he had never known what Meng Tujin’s circumstances were actually like. She’d said her family had an official position, and he’d simply assumed she was comfortable enough.

He hadn’t imagined it was this hard.

And even so — she’d gone to fight for him.

Zhang Zaixin shifted with a restlessness he couldn’t quite name, and asked his mother vaguely: “What did she do while she was staying here?”

“We fed her well and looked after her properly, of course,” Chen Baoxiang said. “She seemed at ease at first — she even asked if she could see the places where you used to play as a child. I took her to all of them.”

His face flooded scarlet. “Why would you agree to that? Those places — can just anyone go and look?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t take her to the courtyard where your little wet clothes used to hang. Just a walk past the study and the stables.”

“And then?”

“And then she suddenly said she needed to go home.” Chen Baoxiang said, puzzled. “She looked quite sad when she left — on the verge of tears, it seemed.”

Zhang Zaixin’s eyes went wide.

He thought Tujin had probably realized he was deliberately avoiding her, and had left in anger.

He wanted to go and explain himself — but the examination results were about to be posted, and Shangjing was so clogged with visitors that he was practically trapped inside the Marquess Manor.

“Congratulations on your young master’s first-place honors — truly remarkable, a worthy son of a worthy father.”

“The elder Master Zhang himself only achieved third place — who could have imagined that his son would claim the very summit? What a talent.”

Chen Baoxiang had been smiling and returning courtesies — but at that, she nearly threw a kick: “What do you mean, only third place? My husband led the entire examination board that year. Being handsome was hardly his fault.”

Zhang Zhixu immediately put his arms around her and smoothed her back: “Let it go — I’ve let it go long since.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to stand on his face and say it.” Chen Baoxiang was still seething, glaring at the man in question.

Zhang Zaixin stood behind them, inwardly speechless. Was she implying that he hadn’t inherited enough of his father’s looks?

That was absurd — he’d been complimented on his appearance his entire life.

Admittedly, he’d been too busy lately to give much attention to his presentation. He rubbed his chin — he’d even grown stubble.

Could that be why Meng Tujin had stopped coming to find him?

He scanned the crowd of guests, squinting. Even people who would normally have no connection to him whatsoever had shown up to celebrate — yet the one person he actually expected was nowhere to be seen.

When the banquet finally wound down, he mounted his horse and rode out, saying he wanted to see the spring blossoms of Shangjing.

But somewhere along the way, without quite understanding how, his horse’s hooves carried him through the gates of the Shangjing Academy.

“Zaixin!” His teacher lit up the moment he saw him. “You’re the finest student I’ve ever taught — come, come in and let the rest of you take a good look at the new examination champion, and let some of his good fortune rub off on you.”

The whole room surged toward him — familiar classmates, and younger faces he’d never seen before.

Zhang Zaixin let his gaze drift, as though by accident, toward the back of the room.

Meng Tujin was still in her usual seat — the very last row. She saw him, didn’t move, but gave a small smile.

He answered questions and deflected conversations, drifting gradually through the room until he had made his way, without drawing attention, to the desk beside hers.

“Did you get in trouble when you went home?” he asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

Meng Tujin gave a small smile: “It’s fine. It was my own mistake to make.”

She had always been pale and slight, but today she looked practically paper-thin.

Zhang Zaixin pressed his lips together: “My mother says she’s recently received some very good medicine, and she’d like you to come by.”

A wave of noise rippled around them — every person nearby seemed to feel they’d just heard something scandalous, their eyes going wide.

Zhang Zaixin immediately felt uncomfortable, and added: “It’s her who’s worried about you, not me. I’ve always found things like this troublesome.”

Meng Tujin pulled back slightly, lowering her eyes: “There’s no need to put you to any more trouble. I’m fine. School’s out now, so I should be heading home.”

“Right.” Zhang Zaixin said. “I’ll walk with you.”

“There’s no need.” She declined quickly.

Six years. The two of them had walked together every single day, until it was simply the shape of things. And this was the first time he had ever heard her refuse.

“Why?” He frowned.

Meng Tujin hesitated: “We’re both old enough now. If we keep walking together, people will talk.”

“So you two really are just ordinary friends?” Their classmates were astonished. “We all thought you were practically engaged.”

“Right — didn’t she go and stay at the Manor?”

“There’s nothing between us,” Meng Tujin hugged her books close, her knuckles going tight. “It was only the Marquess’s kindness that saw me looked after.”

Zhang Zaixin’s mouth opened, then closed. His brow furrowed deep, and slowly, his hands clenched into fists.

The teacher dispersed the students and called the class back to order.

Zhang Zaixin went to lean against the courtyard wall outside and waited.

He kept turning over the two words Meng Tujin had said — “no need.” Did she mean she was capable of protecting herself now, and no longer required him? Or had she simply grown tired of things, and didn’t want to be around him anymore?

The bell rang, students scattered in all directions, and he waited at the gate for a good long while — but there was no sign of that small, quail-like figure.

“First-place scholar.” One of the girls who sat near Tujin smiled at him as she passed. “Tujin left through the west gate. Who exactly are you still waiting for here?”

She’d already left?

She was avoiding him?

Zhang Zaixin’s expression darkened. He said, keeping his voice even: “It’s nothing. I was simply waiting for my teacher.”