The May breeze swept past, scattering the remaining red petals in its wake.
Amidst the garden’s heavy floral fragrance, Song Qingzhao caught a whiff of the fresh artemisia scent emanating from Mingshu. She walked beside him with her head slightly bowed, her gaze fixed on the longevity thread she had just received. Her beautiful profile revealed the contours of her brow, nose, lips, and chin—lines that would compel any painter passionate about portraiture to secretly sketch them over and over in their mind. Song Qingzhao was no exception.
He couldn’t remember when he had started thinking about her so frequently—her every expression, her every movement. He found her to be an extraordinarily interesting young lady, and each of their encounters felt like a fortuitous meeting, making his otherwise mundane days vibrant and full of anticipation.
Before meeting her, he had never experienced such feelings. Even in this garden full of blooming flowers, everything else seemed to pass before his eyes like fleeting blossoms, none worthy of making him pause. He had thought he would be like his elder brother—when the time came, his parents would arrange a suitable marriage, and he would wed an accomplished lady from a noble family to be his lifelong companion, living together with mutual respect and support.
Youth knows not of love; only upon meeting the right person does the heart know joy. It wasn’t that he had no expectations—he simply hadn’t met the right person before.
Though their acquaintance was brief, it was enough for him to understand.
She was the one he had unexpectedly encountered among countless lights and the vast sea of people.
With each meeting, his heart grew fonder.
Song Qingzhao knew his mother was already selecting suitable marriage prospects for him and knew she favored Mingshu. If they could get his mother’s approval, the Duke’s mansion would naturally handle the rest, even if he did nothing. But he still wanted to know her thoughts.
He didn’t want this to be just his expectation alone.
“I have something to ask you too,” Mingshu said upon hearing Song Qingzhao’s words.
“Oh? What a coincidence?” Song Qingzhao’s eyes met her clear gaze, his lips curving into a slight smile as if acknowledging their connection. “You go first.”
Mingshu took a deep breath, biting her lip hesitantly for a moment before asking, “Do you often wear blue robes?”
This strange question caught Song Qingzhao off guard. He looked at her puzzled and replied, “I suppose I do. Why do you ask?”
“Have we never met before?” Mingshu asked again.
This was the second time she had asked him this question, wasn’t it? Song Qingzhao remembered her asking the same thing when they first met. While he wished he had known her earlier, searching through his memories, he couldn’t find any overlap with her past. Moreover, if they had met before, he was certain he wouldn’t have forgotten her.
“No. Our chance meeting at Songling Academy last year was our first encounter,” Song Qingzhao answered with certainty.
Mingshu lowered her head again, feeling somewhat disappointed yet also relieved.
The disappointment came from still being unable to identify the man in her dreams, but the relief… she couldn’t quite explain why. Somehow, knowing Song Qingzhao wasn’t the person in her heart made her feel lighter.
“Why do you keep asking me this question?” Song Qingzhao asked in return.
Mingshu fidgeted with the longevity thread, thought for a moment, and answered honestly: “Because ever since meeting you, I… I’ve been having the same dream repeatedly, about the same person. That person always wears blue robes, but I can’t see their face.”
Song Qingzhao never expected Mingshu to say such things. He was first stunned, then felt his heart blooming with joy, his voice trembling with emotion: “Mingshu, you…”
Mingshu suddenly realized she had said something that could be easily misunderstood, and quickly turned her head, shaking it frantically: “Don’t misunderstand, that’s not what I meant.”
How embarrassing. Song Qingzhao must think she was constantly dreaming about him.
“It’s not what you think,” Mingshu anxiously tried to explain, no longer hiding the truth. “I… I injured my head before coming to the capital and developed soul-departure syndrome. I can’t remember things from before. I don’t know who the person in my dreams is, I just thought you resembled him, so I wanted to figure out who that person was.”
Her dreams had become increasingly bizarre, featuring not only the man in blue robes but also strange and surreal scenes. She had a feeling that if she could identify the man in her dreams, perhaps her memories would return.
Beyond that inexplicable flutter in her heart, this person’s identity was linked to her memories.
“Soul-departure amnesia?” Song Qingzhao’s brows furrowed instantly.
Mingshu nodded: “I feel the person in my dreams is very familiar, but I… no matter what I try, I can’t remember who they are. I only know they often wear blue robes, and you… look somewhat similar, which is why when we first met, I… offended you.”
She apologized awkwardly.
Song Qingzhao’s brows showed no sign of relaxing, instead furrowing deeper—she had lost her memories yet repeatedly dreamed of the same man, what did this mean?
It meant this man held an extremely important place in her heart, so much so that even after forgetting her past, she hadn’t forgotten him. Of course, this was assuming such a person existed.
Perhaps the dream had nothing to do with the past, and the person she dreamed of wasn’t from her memories, but she had simply misinterpreted it.
These thoughts flashed through his mind, leaving him lost in thought until he heard Mingshu’s voice: “Didn’t you also have something to tell me?”
Song Qingzhao came back to his senses, looking into her bright eyes. The words he had prepared suddenly wouldn’t come out. As he struggled with whether to speak, a maid suddenly came running back along the path, calling urgently for Mingshu: “Young Miss… Young Miss…”
“Qingshao? What happened? Weren’t you supposed to stay with my mother?” Mingshu’s brows furrowed.
It was Qingshao, the newly hired maid.
“I was with Madam, but earlier when everyone gathered to admire a precious peony, I got pushed aside. When the crowd dispersed, Madam was nowhere to be seen. I’ve been searching nearby for ages but couldn’t find her,” Qingshao was nearly in tears.
She was young and inexperienced, never having been in such a grand mansion before. When she lost sight of her mistress, she panicked, and unable to find Madam Zeng in the crowd, she could only seek out Mingshu for guidance.
Mingshu’s face darkened: “Take me there.”
“Mingshu, don’t worry. My mansion is very safe. Your mother probably just took a wrong turn. I’ll help you look for her,” Song Qingshao consoled her.
“Thank you.” Mingshu remained calm, agreeing with Song Qingshao that the Duke’s mansion was safe and her mother wouldn’t be in danger, but this maid was too unreliable—losing track of someone like that was unacceptable.
The three hurried to where they had gotten separated, but indeed couldn’t see Madam Zeng nearby. Mingshu remembered that Third Miss Lu had been accompanying her mother, so she asked people nearby about their whereabouts. It didn’t take long to learn that Madam Zeng and Third Miss Lu had gone to the small grove beside the garden.
“Don’t panic in such situations. There are so many people here, you just need to ask around,” Mingshu instructed Qingshao as they walked along the cobblestone path toward the grove.
Qingshao said dejectedly: “Young Miss, I did ask people, but someone pointed me in the opposite direction. I searched for a long time but couldn’t find them, and there were fewer and fewer people around, which made me more anxious.”
Just as Mingshu was about to speak, she heard faint voices coming from the grove, probably her mother and the others. Without further investigation, she hurried forward.
The grove was peaceful, with just one cobblestone path and stone tables and benches on both sides. Scattered wildflowers bloomed along the path, creating an elegant and serene atmosphere. Madam Zeng sat on a stone bench, apologetically speaking to Third Miss Lu, who was crouching down trying to examine her ankle: “It’s not necessary, Third Miss. I just stumbled a bit, might have twisted it slightly, but it’s nothing serious.”
Third Miss Lu spoke gently: “A sprain can be minor or serious. I’m worried the bone might be injured, please let me take a look.” She insisted on examining Madam Zeng’s injury.
Madam Zeng pulled her foot back slightly: “Really, there’s no need…”
Before she could finish, two people hurriedly emerged from the grove.
“Madam, Young Miss, Top Scholar Lu is here,” Third Miss Lu’s maid arrived with Lu Chang.
Madam Zeng and Third Miss Lu both turned their heads. Madam Zeng was naturally delighted to see Lu Chang. Third Miss Lu stood up from the ground as she watched Lu Chang stride to Madam Zeng’s side and crouch down: “Mother, what happened? Did you hurt your foot?”
Madam Zeng nodded, about to answer, but Third Miss Lu spoke first.
“Master Lu, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought Madam into the grove. The path is uneven, and Madam didn’t notice a stone on the ground. She almost fell and might have sprained her ankle.”
The young lady’s voice was soft and pleasant, truly melodious.
“You are…” Lu Chang turned to look at her.
“This is Third Miss Lu,” Madam Zeng answered for her, then continued, “It’s not Third Miss’s fault. There were too many people outside, and I’m not good at socializing, so I wanted to find a quiet place. Third Miss kindly helped me come in for a walk, but I wasn’t careful and stumbled. It’s nothing serious—Third Miss was just being overly concerned when she sent her maid to call for help.”
Lu Chang responded with a low sound, thanked Third Miss Lu, and then asked: “Where’s Mingshu?”
“Madam Meng from the Duke’s mansion just called for her, so she went with her,” Third Miss Lu replied.
Lu Chang didn’t say much more, only asking: “Mother, let me carry you out on my back.”
“No need, no need. As I said, the injury isn’t serious. I can walk by myself,” Madam Zeng quickly waved him off, and to ease their concerns, she stood up as she spoke.
Lu Chang quickly rose to support Madam Zeng’s left hand, while Third Miss Lu hurried to help her from the other side. Madam Zeng naturally placed her right hand on Third Miss Lu’s back but heard her cry out in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Madam Zeng quickly withdrew her hand and asked.
Third Miss Lu’s delicate brows furrowed slightly, and somewhat helplessly, she lowered her head and pulled up the sleeve where Madam Zeng had touched her.
There were several scratch marks on the young lady’s flawless white arm.
“How did you get hurt? It must have been from when you were helping me just now—you got scratched by the tree branches. It’s all my fault…” Madam Zeng exclaimed in shock, holding Third Miss Lu’s hand and blaming herself.
Lu Chang lowered his gaze to her arm. She turned her head away with flushed cheeks, only saying: “It’s nothing, just a flesh wound. Please don’t blame yourself, Madam.”
“Let’s go out first, then find a doctor to look at it…”
The young lady’s face was enchantingly shy, but Lu Chang didn’t notice. His gaze merely swept over the wounds on her arm as he spoke emotionlessly. Before he could finish, a familiar call came from the path ahead.
“Mother!” Mingshu ran out from the grove, stopping about ten paces away from them.
Before her, Lu Chang and Third Miss Lu stood on either side of Madam Zeng, with Third Miss Lu’s fair and delicate arm still suspended in mid-air, her face full of bashful hesitation.
What was this situation?
“Mingshu, slow down,” Song Qingshao followed Mingshu out, stopping beside her.
Lu Chang turned to look. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, and a beam happened to fall between Mingshu and Song Qingshao.
Between her and him, there suddenly seemed to be an immeasurable distance.