Shen Che crouched before Ji Cheng, “I must leave today. This is for you.”
Ji Cheng looked at the wooden box in Shen Che’s hand without reaching for it. “What is this?”
Shen Che opened the box, revealing two ice containers. The larger one held a green ointment that emitted a pleasant, fresh fragrance. The smaller one contained a stack of tender herbal leaves.
“It’s for your eyes,” Shen Che explained. “Excessive crying can harm them. Apply the ointment to the leaves and use them morning and evening. It will clear and brighten your eyes.”
Ji Cheng had indeed been experiencing a stinging sensation in her eyes these past few days, with a persistent bloodshot appearance. She was aware of Shen Che’s medical skills but hadn’t expected him to concern himself with her eye health.
Ji Cheng accepted the ointment, softly expressing her thanks.
“Also, this herbal pack,” Shen Che continued, “have your maid warm it and place it on your knees daily. I’ve noticed your gait has changed lately—your old knee problem has flared up, with new symptoms.” He handed Ji Cheng a prescription. “After your mother’s burial, use this to improve your overall health.”
Such fussing—did he mistake her for “Shen Qian”? Ji Cheng thanked him for each item. As she escorted Shen Che out, she couldn’t help but say, “Take care on your journey.”
Shen Che smiled, “I never expected to hear those words from you.”
Yun Niang’s death seemed to have severed the grievances between Ji Cheng and Shen Che. The past was beyond regret, and the things they had once strived for now seemed pale in the face of life and death. Ji Cheng found she no longer had the energy to hate Shen Che.
After forty-nine days of mourning, on an auspicious day and time chosen by the Yin-Yang masters, it was finally time to lay Yun Niang to rest. Ji Cheng had thought Shen Che wouldn’t appear again after his last departure, but to her surprise, he arrived in northern Jin the day before Yun Niang’s burial and accompanied the funeral procession up the mountain.
Such dedication from a guest was rare, especially from the heir of Duke Qi’s manor. This sparked much discussion. Most outsiders attributed it to Ji Lan’s influence, marveling at the respect commanded by this Third Madam of the Shen family. For her sister-in-law’s passing, the heir of the ducal manor had come to pay respects and stayed until the burial.
Of course, Shen Che hadn’t actually stayed at the Ji residence the entire time, but rumors spread, and by the end, it was believed that he had.
Undeniably, Shen Che’s return to northern Jin for Yun Niang’s burial, after having already left, raised eyebrows. Even Ji Qing began to question Shen Che’s motives.
However, Shen Che’s stay was brief this time. He left after two days, without much opportunity to speak with Ji Cheng. He hurriedly had Nan Gui deliver some items to Ji Cheng—newly prepared eye ointment and knee packs.
“Miss, I’m staying at the third house in Clock Tower Lane on South Street,” Nan Gui informed her. “If you need anything or want to send a message, just send someone there to find me.”
Ji Cheng nodded. She knew Shen Che wouldn’t simply let the Ji family off, but at least having Nan Gui no longer following her allowed her to breathe a little easier.
True to her word, once Yun Niang was buried, Ji Cheng built a hut by the grave. Despite her family’s persistent pleas, she wouldn’t be dissuaded. The location was the Ji family’s ancestral burial ground, an entire mountainside dedicated to their ancestors, with designated caretakers. This somewhat allayed concerns for Ji Cheng’s safety.
After hammering the last board of Ji Cheng’s wooden hut, Ling Ziyun jumped down from the roof and said, “Little Sister Cheng, I might not be able to visit you in the coming days.”
Ji Cheng nodded, suddenly remembering something she had been too dazed to ask about earlier. “Are you going somewhere?”
Ling Ziyun nodded, “I’m heading to the Northwest.”
So it was true! Ji Cheng had been puzzled; Shen Che had mentioned that Mei Changhe had recommended Ling Ziyun for work in the Northwest, but hadn’t he been staying in northern Jin all this time?
“I should have gone earlier,” Ling Ziyun explained. He had delayed his departure upon hearing of Yun Niang’s fall and coma, feeling uneasy. Then, with Yun Niang’s passing, he felt even less able to leave.
Ji Cheng, her face ashen, looked into Ling Ziyun’s eyes and said, “Don’t go.”
Ling Ziyun gently took Ji Cheng’s hand. “I don’t want to leave you either. Wait for me to return. Once I’ve earned an official position, I’ll come back to marry you. Then no one will dare bully you again.”
Ji Cheng was confused by this. She had thought, as Shen Che had suggested, that he was using her to coerce Ling Ziyun. But now it seemed that wasn’t the case.
“Why go to the Northwest?” Ji Cheng asked.
Ling Ziyun explained, “With our people stirring up trouble in the Western Regions, it’s unlikely to cause major issues. You reminded me that we should do more things that benefit both the country and the people while also being profitable. The Northwest is clearly unsettled. I have a brother with some connections in the military camp there, and he’s arranged for me to be a provisions officer. If war breaks out, this role becomes crucial. You’ve heard of Xiao He, right? Emperor Liu Bang’s chancellor—he started as a provisions manager. Given our background in this business, it should be easy to adapt. If I can achieve merit, I might even earn you an honorary title. Ah Cheng, please don’t go back to the capital, alright?”
For Ling Ziyun, the Northwest represented an opportunity for great accomplishments. Despite Ji Cheng’s repeated warnings about the dangers, he waved them off, saying, “What great achievements in this world come without risk? As long as I can secure honors for my wife and children, what does a real man have to fear?” Ling Ziyun seemed thoroughly convinced, immune to Ji Cheng’s persuasions.
Ji Cheng sighed, ceasing her arguments to avoid annoying him. She understood why Ling Ziyun was so intent on establishing his career and couldn’t bring herself to stop him. Truthfully, under Shen Che’s command, Ling Ziyun’s ambitions of securing honors for his family weren’t impossible. Shen Che’s ability to control the entire Jingshi Army surely involved effective methods of reward and punishment. As long as Ling Ziyun performed well, he would have his chance to rise.
The prerequisite, of course, was not to go against Shen Che’s wishes. Ji Cheng hoped Ling Ziyun could indeed secure those honors, even if she wasn’t the wife to benefit from them.
With Ling Ziyun’s departure, Ji Cheng’s life seemed to sink into stagnant waters. As soon as her father’s health improved, he gradually reclaimed the authority from Ji Cheng’s hands, instructing her to focus solely on observing mourning. Ji Cheng knew her father strongly disapproved of her actions regarding Concubine Xiang. She hadn’t intended to tear away that paper-thin veil hiding the ugliness, but she couldn’t help it—it concerned her mother.
Living on the mountain, Ji Cheng received clothing and food from servants every half month. Ji Yuan and Fan Zengli occasionally visited, but her father never came once.
Ji Ze also disappeared. After her mother’s burial, it was nearly a year before Ji Cheng saw her second brother again.
“Second Brother,” Ji Cheng could hardly believe the man striding quickly along the mountain path was Ji Ze. “Your leg?”
Ji Ze opened his arms to Ji Cheng, saying, “It’s all better now.”
Ji Cheng threw herself into Ji Ze’s embrace, tears in her eyes. “That’s wonderful, that’s wonderful.”
It turned out that Ji Ze’s year-long absence was due to his search for a miracle doctor to treat his leg. “If it weren’t for Second Young Master helping me track down the doctor’s whereabouts, I would never have found him. He truly is a miracle worker. He re-broke my leg, then set it anew. I don’t know what medicine he used, but it worked—I no longer limp. Though it still aches when the weather changes, it’s vastly improved from before.” Ji Ze’s words were filled with gratitude towards Shen Che and faith in the miracle doctor.
When Ji Cheng heard Ji Ze mention Shen Che, she instinctively furrowed her brow. Truthfully, she was reluctant to owe Shen Che any favors, yet she couldn’t help but sincerely appreciate his help for Ji Ze.
Strangely, since leaving northern Jin, there had been no news from Shen Che. Even Nan Gui hadn’t reappeared. If not for Ji Ze’s mention of Shen Che, Ji Cheng would have almost believed Shen Che had let her go. After all, how long could one’s novelty last? It fades with time, just as Shen Che’s interest in Fang Xuan had.
Ji Cheng, still concerned about the private arms business, couldn’t help but inquire about it to Ji Ze. Her father didn’t know Shen Che was behind it, and she had long been sidelined, unaware of how things were progressing.
The situation, as it turned out, was both unexpected and predictable to Ji Cheng. Shen Che had found a better replacement for her—Ji Ze.
Ji Ze, deeply grateful to Shen Che, threw himself wholeheartedly into the private arms business. On the surface, it benefited the Central Plains, while secretly turning a profit. What could be more advantageous? Ji Ze was far more dedicated than Ji Cheng had been, and as a man, he found it easier to handle many aspects of the business.
Ji Cheng could only smile wryly upon hearing this.
The days of mourning were long and quiet. For the next two years, Ji Cheng received no news of Shen Che. She spent her days in quiet cultivation by the grave, resuming the breathing techniques she had learned from Nan Gui. With prolonged practice, she found the method greatly beneficial to her health, making her sword practice feel much lighter and more fluid.
The days passed like flowing water, and the twenty-seven months seemed to fly by for Ji Cheng. Surprisingly, the once pampered eldest Miss Ji had grown accustomed to years of simple living. Before she had even considered leaving the mountain, Fan Zengli had already made several trips up to see her.
Their conversations largely revolved around Fan Zengli’s concerns for Ji Cheng. After all, Ji Cheng was now nineteen, an age considered quite late for marriage, especially since she wasn’t even betrothed. At this age, finding a noble match in the capital seemed unlikely, so Fan Zengli had looked into several potential suitors in northern Jin and was urging Ji Cheng to return home.
Ji Cheng replied, “I’ve grown accustomed to the quiet life here. Sister-in-law, are you so eager to marry me off because you fear I’m impoverishing the Ji family?”
“How could you say that?” Fan Zengli responded. “If you don’t like those few families, we can take our time choosing. With your qualities and appearance, how could you worry about not finding a match? Besides, the New Year is approaching. You haven’t been home for over two years, and the master misses you dearly. It’s only because of his poor health that he can’t climb the mountain, otherwise he would have come to fetch you himself. Your second brother is also getting married after the New Year. Don’t you care about such a joyous occasion?”
Ji Cheng thought to herself that Fan Zengli had indeed become more articulate after two years of experience. With Ji Ze’s upcoming marriage, Ji Cheng naturally couldn’t refuse to return.
An unexpected joy came with the new year—Ling Ziyun returned to northern Jin from the Northwest. The two had been childhood sweethearts, and now, with both unmarried, it seemed perfect timing. It appeared to be a match made in heaven, coming full circle after so many years, their initial feelings unchanged.