Hua Zhi gently patted Peony. “I understand. I won’t dislike him — not ever.”

The moment Peony was sure she meant it, her face broke into a beaming smile again. Her hand reached once more toward the remaining half-plate of refreshments, and as she ate she said with a sly grin, “Hua Hua, you know what — I actually still remember what Yan used to look like. He used to smile all the time, and when he smiled, he had two dimples. His hair was always full of short little flyaway bits, so at any big occasion they’d have to put something in it just to keep it from sticking up all over the place — nothing like that stiff, rigid look he has now.”

Hua Zhi found it impossible to picture such a Gu Yanxi. It felt almost like a kind of desecration.

Yet given his family’s position, he had been born into wealth and privilege — he was meant by nature to live freely and brightly. And he had indeed once had that life, only to lose it in the most devastating way. How much pain that must have caused was something only he himself could know.

Her thoughts wandered in that direction without limit, yet her lips curved into teasing words. “If he knew you’d been exposing him to outsiders, he’d settle accounts with you.”

“You’re not an outsider.” Peony was entirely matter-of-fact about it. Their goal was to make Hua Hua an insider, after all.

There were still proper matters to attend to at the palace, so Peony ate a lavish meal and then made her way back. She left with bundles large and small — some for herself, some for her master, and some for Yan.

In the Imperial Study, Gu Yanxi had been staring at the same memorial before him for a long while. Laifu assumed the memorial must contain something irregular and dared not make a sound.

Had he dared to lean in close, he would have discovered that the eyes of Young Master Gu — head of the Seven Lodges, Gu Yanxi — were not focused on anything. He was, in the common parlance, daydreaming.

Waiting endlessly for Peony to return had him feeling deeply restless. He had been desperate — how else to explain sending someone so unreliable? He had no idea what she might have said. He could only hope she hadn’t made things worse.

Thinking this, Gu Yanxi wished he could go back two hours and stop himself from making such a muddled decision in the first place.

He pushed the memorial aside and picked up Zheng Zhi’s file to look at again. The more he read, the heavier his sense of unease grew. A man of fine character, widely read, whose thinking ran in step with Ah Zhi’s — living right there in the Hua Family residence. Able to see Ah Zhi every single day. Sharing tea, playing chess, talking freely on any subject. Living the very life he most wished he could live. Just thinking about it was enough to make him unable to sit still.

And he could not stop it.

This man had been kept by Ah Zhi, and was admired by Ah Zhi. And he had promised her he would agree to everything. He couldn’t go back on his word over this one matter.

He had also told her she could do anything she wished to do. He could not, under the guise of concern, shut others out — not even when he desperately wanted to send Zheng Zhi far away.

“Yan.” The person he had been hoping and waiting for blew in like a gust of wind. Gu Yanxi signaled for Laifu to leave, then fixed his eyes on what she was carrying.

Peony grinned and set the bundle on the writing desk. “Yan, Hua Hua said she will never dislike you.”

Gu Yanxi’s gaze shifted upward. “What exactly did you say?”

“Oh, nothing much — I just talked a bit. Hua Hua is so clever, the more I said the more she would have figured out anyway.” Peony played innocent. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Yan that she’d told Hua Hua about his clueless younger self.

Gu Yanxi didn’t entirely trust her account, but Peony gave him no opportunity to press. The moment she finished speaking, she was out the door. “I’m going to find Master.”

Gu Yanxi couldn’t be bothered to deal with her. He opened the bundle and found a familiar food box within — though strangely, today there was no scent of food. Had Fudong come up with some new dish?

With that thought, he opened the first tier. Empty.

The second tier — also empty.

The third tier — empty.

Gu Yanxi’s mind went blank. What did it mean to send him an empty food box? Could it be that Peony had said something that had made Ah Zhi entirely fed up with him, and she no longer wanted to feed him? That didn’t seem right either — if that were the case, Ah Zhi would simply ignore him. She wouldn’t send an empty food box.

So what did it mean? Surely it couldn’t be that an empty food box was an invitation for him to come to the Hua Family to eat…

Gu Yanxi’s mind spun. He looked up — it was already dark outside. He told himself he was probably reading too much into it. But now that the thought had lodged itself in his head, he couldn’t keep from following it — an empty box meant the food existed, but it was at the Hua Family’s house. Wasn’t she telling him that if he wanted to eat, he should come himself?

The more he thought about it, the more certain he felt. Gu Yanxi set everything else aside, rose, and strode out in long steps. He crossed the threshold — then stopped, turned back, and headed to the resting chamber behind the Imperial Study. He had been spending so much time here lately that he kept spare clothes on hand. This dark outfit wasn’t quite right. Ah Zhi had been wearing simple, light-colored robes lately, mostly white — he would wear white too.

He arrived at the Hua Family residence with a knot of anxiety in his chest. The side gate was naturally locked at this hour. He vaulted up onto the wall — and his gaze met Wang Rong’s. He didn’t know if it was his guilty conscience, but Wang Rong’s eyes seemed to carry a peculiar look.

Events proved it was not his imagination — because Wang Rong told him that the young miss had left instructions: if Master Lu came, he was to be shown directly to the study.

No one moved through the courtyard. The study door stood slightly ajar. Gu Yanxi’s heart beat faster. He gently pushed the door open.

The candles inside burned brightly. Hua Zhi sat with a book open in her hands, reading. On the table where she usually prepared tea, chopsticks and bowls had been set out, with dishes covered by upturned bowls to keep in the warmth.

Hearing the movement, Hua Zhi set down her book. With a smile that was not quite a smile, she watched this man of seven feet, who was clearly nervous yet wore his customary composed expression. “I half expected Master Lu to arrive a little later. As it is — good timing. The food is still hot. Come eat first.”

Gu Yanxi sat down across from her, watching as she lifted the upturned bowl from each dish one by one, then ladled out two bowls of rice… Two?

His gaze met hers. Hua Zhi picked up her chopsticks. “Has Master Lu already eaten at the palace?”

“I haven’t.” He hadn’t even noticed when it had grown dark, let alone remembered to eat — Gu Yanxi thought to himself quietly. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. In front of him was a dish of meat, cooked in a sweet-and-sour style made to his taste. All the other dishes were vegetarian. Evidently, this one dish of meat had been made especially for him. Thinking this, Gu Yanxi found his appetite thoroughly opened.

The two of them, unlike when they usually dined together and exchanged a few words, ate this particular meal in near-complete silence.

Gu Yanxi used that dish of meat to accompany four large bowls of rice, and set down his chopsticks only after the last piece of meat had been finished.

Yingchun and Nian Qiu appeared soundlessly to clear the table, served tea, and then tiptoed away again.

Gu Yanxi would have liked very much to watch Ah Zhi brew tea with that tea set of hers — unhurried and at ease, as though life really were that leisurely.

But he didn’t dare bring it up.

Right now, he felt like a man waiting for an imperial edict — waiting for a verdict that would either lift him to the heavens or cast him into the earth.

Hua Zhi’s hardness had always been reserved for enemies. Toward someone who had placed their heart entirely before her, she could not bear to make things difficult. Cradling the warm cup of tea in her hands, she said, “What I said before — about keeping things at the stage they were at — that was not well said on my part. It had the quality of taking advantage while playing the innocent. Feelings are not like an hourglass, where plugging the opening stops the sand from falling. Feelings either ferment within the heart, or they grow faint — they never stay still in one place. I wonder, Master Lu: which of those two is it for you, at present?”