The Qingbo House closed its outer hall doors that day. Chen Hua led the staff to clear a space in the back courtyard and arranged tables and chairs.

Song Yunqing carried a basin of vegetable washing water from the kitchen. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes.”

Song Yunqing turned to walk inside. “Then pour out the water and come help me watch the fire.”

As Chen Hua dumped the water and shook his hands dry, he walked in saying, “Aren’t we just having hotpot? What else needs cooking?”

Song Yunqing lifted the lid of the pot on the stove. “Yang Wan specifically requested this be prepared before she left.”

Chen Hua peered in for a look. “Ah, beef tendon. Good for the legs – Miss Wan thinks of everything.”

Song Yunqing let out a small laugh.

Chen Hua’s face immediately reddened. “What are you laughing at?”

Song Yunqing pointed to the side of the stove. “I also marinated some meat, it’s over there.”

Hearing this, Chen Hua’s face lit up with joy as he rushed over, lifted the bowl’s lid took a deep breath, then looked up and said, “Thank you.”

“No need.”

Song Yunqing washed her hands. “Your work in the palace is harder than mine. Take good care of yourself.”

“Heh.” Chen Hua waved his hand dismissively. “What am I worth? How could I deserve Miss’s concern?”

Song Yunqing’s hand paused as she was turning the pot, and said softly, “What kind of talk is that?”

Chen Hua hurriedly said, “Nothing, nothing. I’ll watch the fire for you.”

The soup in the pot bubbled and roiled. Neither person spoke. Chen Hua’s eyes grew red from the stove smoke. He simply wiped his eyes and stared into the fire, saying: “It’s good to be able to leave. Living freely with Miss Wan, perhaps in the future…”

“Perhaps what?”

“Perhaps…”

Chen Hua couldn’t finish the sentence.

Song Yunqing lowered her head and said, “I don’t plan to marry anymore.”

Chen Hua jumped up with a “whoosh.” “How can you not marry?”

Song Yunqing looked up at Chen Hua with a smile. “Yang Wan hasn’t married, and neither has the Imperial Dresser. Aren’t they living well?”

Chen Hua couldn’t help but lift the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t dare let Song Yunqing see. He quickly turned away. “Yes… yes, they’re all living well.”

Song Yunqing gently patted his shoulder. “Watch the fire. I’ll go see if Yang Wan and the Superintendent have returned.”

As she spoke, she let down the sleeves tied at her shoulders and walked into the courtyard. She casually counted the tables and chairs, then turned back to call Chen Hua: “Why are we missing a chair?”

“Huh?” Chen Hua hurried out and counted again. “We’re not missing any.”

Then he turned and said softly, “Could it be that Her Highness will sit with us?”

Just then, an attendant leaned in at the crossing door: “The proprietor has returned. Miss Song, is the water boiled?”

Song Yunqing responded, “Yes, you can carry it over.”

This was Deng Ying’s first visit since Yang Wan had taken over the Qingbo House.

Yang Wan hadn’t made many changes to the establishment’s layout. The outer hall served as a display area, with various books arranged by category. Past the outer hall was a corridor with two blue and white porcelain water vats holding lotus flowers. The corridor led to a crossing gate, beyond which lay the inner courtyard.

Yang Wan pushed open a door and bent down to light the oil lamp before it.

She crouched to change into a different pair of shoes, then took out another pair and placed them by Deng Ying’s feet.

“Put these on.”

Deng Ying looked down. They were cloth shoes, somewhat like Wu Chuan shoes, lined with cotton fleece and open at the heel.

“I don’t know what these shoes are called, but they’re very comfortable to wear at home. I’ve noticed your ankle injury is getting worse, and I saw you struggling to walk with me earlier. When you’re not going out, wear these.”

“Alright.”

Yang Wan looked down at Deng Ying’s feet and smiled. “I should mention, this pair wasn’t made by me – I’m not that skilled.”

Deng Ying asked, “Did Miss Song make them?”

Yang Wan shook her head. “No, my sister made them for you.”

Deng Ying was startled. “Her Highness?” He immediately moved to take them off.

“Don’t take them off.”

A woman’s voice came from outside the door. Deng Ying turned to see Yang Ni standing in the doorway with her sleeves tied up, holding a basket of sewing supplies.

“Your Highness.”

Deng Ying knelt and bowed deeply.

Yang Ni handed the sewing supplies to Yang Wan and bent to help Deng Ying up. “Please rise.”

Deng Ying dared not stand.

Yang Wan looked down and said, “If you won’t get up, you’re keeping my sister in an awkward position too.”

“Yes… this servant…”

“What servant?”

Yang Wan cut him off. “This is my room, and she is my sister. Are you still not willing to shed that skin of yours?”

“I…”

Yang Ni straightened up, looking at Deng Ying’s helpless expression, and said with a gentle smile, “Wan’er, the Factory Official has just returned. Don’t speak so harshly.”

Yang Wan responded, “Alright.”

She turned to Deng Ying and said, “If my sister wants to protect you, I’ll accept it.”

Deng Ying didn’t dare look at Yang Ni and kept his head down. “How is Your Highness here?”

Yang Ni smiled warmly, “Wan’er brought me.”

As she spoke, she crouched and gave Deng Ying a lady’s courtesy. “Consort Ning has passed away. The Factory Officials need not use honorifics anymore. If you’re willing, you may use my given name – I go by ‘Ni’.”

Deng Ying bowed. “Deng Ying wouldn’t dare.”

Yang Wan laughed. “Never mind. Even Yunqing sometimes can’t break the habit, let alone him.”

Yang Ni patted Yang Wan’s hand and nodded. “Indeed.”

She walked a few steps toward Deng Ying. “No matter how the Factory Official treats me, you are still a benefactor to both myself and His Majesty. If not for you, Yi Lang and I might never have seen daylight again. I know you won’t accept my courtesy, so when Wan’er wanted to make shoes for you and I saw her poor craftsmanship, I made them instead. This is my way of thanking you for your kindness. I hope the Factory Official will accept them.”

Deng Ying lowered his head. “How could I put something made by your hands beneath my feet?”

“Then what if…”

Yang Ni paused. “What if you treated me as a sister, like Wan’er does?”

She looked at Deng Ying. “You left home at a young age and grew up with Master Zhang, taking care of yourself all along. I heard you once had a sister who married into the Song family. Later, when the Song family took an official post in Lingnan, she went with them, thus escaping death, but making it difficult for you to meet again.”

“Yes…”

Yang Ni looked at Deng Ying’s feet. “Our Yang family doesn’t have many children in this generation. Yang Lun is the elder brother to Wan’er and me. Below us, we only have one younger brother, Yang Jing, but we’ve been separated since childhood and rarely see each other. Since entering the palace, I haven’t sewn for my family members. This is the first time…”

She smiled as she spoke. “If the Factory Official doesn’t want to take this as my gratitude, then please accept it as a gesture of goodwill.”

Without waiting for Deng Ying’s response, she turned to Yang Wan: “I’ve brought the sewing supplies you wanted. Keep them aside for now, and when Yunqing has free time, she can teach you together.”

Yang Wan’s shoulders slumped. “Alright… I’ll learn.”

Yang Ni smiled and nodded. “I’ll go check on Yunqing in the kitchen.”

Yang Wan watched Yang Ni’s retreating figure and leaned gently against Deng Ying’s arm. “Isn’t it nice to have a sister?”

Deng Ying turned his head. “I am the descendant of a criminal. My family registry has been erased. I cannot have family.”

“I know.”

Yang Wan held onto him, closing her eyes. “You can interact with us however you wish.”

The wind blew gently through the doorway, stirring Yang Wan’s soft dress. Dressed as a commoner woman, her hair was loosely bound, and the wind quickly disheveled it. She unconsciously reached up to fix it, her fingers brushing across her face, revealing a touch of weary elegance.

“Sit for a while.”

“Alright.”

Deng Ying knelt and helped Yang Wan sit as well.

Yang Wan stretched out her feet next to Deng Ying’s, their soft shoes side by side. The lamplight from behind the door enveloped their backs, providing warmth. The smell of cooking gradually rose from the courtyard as the meat soup boiled, and the fragrance of rendered fat slowly permeated the wind.

Yang Wan leaned on Deng Ying’s shoulder. “Deng Ying.”

“Yes.”

“If you could choose again, would you still become a Factory Official?”

Deng Ying gazed at the plants in the courtyard and said softly, “Yes.”

He lowered his eyes. “But if I had known I would meet you, I would have walked this path more carefully. At least I wouldn’t have given away all my money and become a scoundrel.”

“Become what?”

“A scoundrel.”

“Ha…”

Yang Wan closed her eyes and laughed.

“You still remember that?”

“I remember everything you say.”

“Then do you remember when I said earlier that we have time ahead of us?”

Deng Ying remained silent, and to his surprise, Yang Wan didn’t press him for an answer.

“I saw that the survivors from Tongjia Academy have come to the capital.”

“Yes, and the teacher’s son has come too.”

Yang Wan coughed once. “These two cases will be retried.”

“Yes.”

“Will these two cases cost you your life?”

Deng Ying shook his head. “No.”

He cradled Yang Wan’s chin in his hand. “Wan’wan, though I am of low birth, my life and death are my own choice. In this life, I only wish to place my shackles in your hands. Just lead me, and don’t mind how others see me. Don’t trouble Zi Xi for my sake either.”

“I understand.”

Yang Wan took a deep breath. “You are not beneath those men in the cabinet at all. On the contrary, you are nobler than all of them. Rest assured, I will never trample on your dignity. I won’t interfere with how the cabinet treats you – let them scheme. I only bet on my understanding of you as a person.”

“Wan’wan, you’ve only known me for four years.”

Not only that.

Not only that.

She opened her mouth, silently forming these words.

The “Biography of Deng Ying” she had written after ten years of being buried in ancient documents now seemed so forced and rigid in retrospect. His life had its ups and downs, yet showed no joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness.

But the man in her notes was like shattered jade, like a broken moon, like a pine tree after a storm, like a crane wounded and nesting in lake mud.

By chance, he had prostrated himself before Yang Wan, offering up a lifetime of pain and pleasure.

Yang Wan’s observation notes were filled with records of his injuries and ailments, his inner struggles, and the Ming Dynasty’s exploitation and persecution of him. He was both a historical subject of the 21st century and a living person from the Zhenning era.

This was undoubtedly the sacrifice of the research subject to the researcher.

As if to thank Yang Wan for her arrival, he had answered all the questions of her academic career, fulfilling her but also making her the only person from later generations who truly understood everything.

That’s why Yang Wan couldn’t let go of Deng Ying.