Just then came the sound of hoofbeats. Hua Zhi turned to look — it was General Lin, who was exempt from daily court duty, returning home.
Hua Zhi walked back a few steps and curtseyed toward him in a deferential bow. In that moment she was no longer Grand Preceptor Hua — she stood as a daughter of the Hua Family, offering her gratitude to General Lin for his care of their old residence during their absence.
General Lin stepped slightly to the side to avoid receiving the full bow and raised a hand to gently gesture her upright. “There is no need for such courtesy, my lady. The Lin Family has done little in truth.”
Whether they had or had not, Hua Zhi knew well in her heart. Two years without anyone to tend it, and yet the house looked just as it always had from the outside — not a patch of moss in sight. The care that must have gone into it was unmistakable.
General Lin looked at the Hua Family’s eldest daughter, worn down to this state over two years of hardship, and inwardly sighed. “You have finally seen your wish fulfilled. From here on you must tend carefully to your health — do not leave yourself with regrets.”
“Yes.”
General Lin also bowed toward the Prince Regent, then turned and climbed the steps to his own home.
Watching him disappear through his gate, Hua Zhi turned back. She looked at the gate before her — the one that seemed to be calling to her — and was suddenly struck by a feeling of tender hesitation, as though she had finally come close and lost her nerve.
She climbed the steps slowly, one at a time, and laid her hand on the iron ring set into the gate, pressing it down three times in a muted rhythm. The muffled sound it made seemed like a greeting. Hua Zhi’s lips trembled — between a laugh and a sob — and with a push of her hand, she swung the gate open.
The heavy doors had not been opened in two years, and the sound they made was grating — but to Hua Zhi it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She stepped over the threshold, tracing the familiar patterns on the spirit wall with her fingertips, and walked out into the open courtyard within — only to find it unexpectedly uncluttered.
“His Majesty sent people to tidy up first thing this morning.” Gu Yanxi came forward to support her as they walked further inside. “He did not allow anyone past the inner gate.”
Thoughtfully done. Hua Zhi took in every corner of the front courtyard with fond, lingering eyes — every blade of grass, every tree — as though it had been carved into her memory, though she had rarely come to the front courtyard during the sixteen years she had lived here.
Walking along the covered corridor inward, she saw that everything that had been knocked over had been set upright, and everything that had fallen had been put back in order. Only the chipped paintwork had not yet been touched up, and the flowers and plants — which should have been in full bloom at this time of year — had withered in their places. They reminded her, quietly, of what ordeal the Hua Family had endured.
The library tower was locked. So was the Chat Pavilion. These were the Hua Family’s symbols, and the new emperor had been considerate enough not to allow outsiders entry. Hua Zhi sat down on the steps of the library tower, propped her cheek in her hand, and tilted her head back to look up at the sky. Just as she had expected — the sky seen from this spot was the brightest of all.
“I am not going back to the palace.”
Gu Yanxi crouched down before her, and seeing how content she looked, he smiled along with her. “All right. I’ll have someone tell the Hua Family to send people over — this place needs a thorough tidying.”
“Mm.” Hua Zhi smiled until her eyes curved like crescents. She was simply happy — beyond any words — so happy that she felt light as air and could find no ground beneath her feet.
“I used to spend the most time in this library tower. Though I always chose to come during the hours when the brothers were away at the clan school — at that hour, almost no one would be here. Only Grandfather could find me in this place.” Hua Zhi’s eyes shone. “The library tower didn’t actually have so many miscellaneous books to begin with — it was Grandfather who gathered them after he discovered what I liked to read. He never once thought there was anything wrong with reading such things.”
And so it was that the elder master of the Hua Family had sown the cause of yesterday — and this was the fruit it bore: A’Zhi’s tireless devotion to protect the family through two long years of hardship. Gu Yanxi said warmly, “Did the elder master ever test you on what you read?”
“No.” Hua Zhi thought for a moment. “Well — not exactly. If I had read a certain book, he would look through it as well, then ask me casually about it afterward. Does that count as a test?”
It did. Gu Yanxi leaned forward and kissed her brow. “The elder master had seen clearly what you were capable of, and trusted you accordingly.”
Thinking of her grandfather, Hua Zhi’s expression filled with quiet longing. “When they first started arranging a match for me, Grandfather asked if I had any thoughts of my own on the matter. Looking back, I believe that whatever I had said — whoever I had named — he would have made it come to pass. Even if I had said I did not wish to marry at all, he would have indulged me in that too. But I was determined then to be a proper young lady of a great family. I had no way of understanding what he meant by asking. So I simply said that I would leave it to my parents to arrange, as the custom dictated. Even after the match was settled, he reprimanded Shen Qi on several occasions.”
Hua Zhi lowered her head and smiled softly. Decade after decade of quiet indulgence — of sheltering her in ways no one else knew. How could she not repay it? Had her grandfather not covered for her, had he not openly and secretly shielded her from her grandmother’s strict oversight, how could she ever have lived so freely and at ease?
All of that was in the past now. Only — when Grandfather came home at last, she would not know how to face him. She had promised him she would not let a single member of the Hua Family be lost. And yet she had let him lose the person who mattered most.
The light in her eyes dimmed by degrees. Hua Zhi leaned forward onto her knees, lost in a quiet sorrow.
Gu Yanxi understood A’Zhi better than she understood herself. He knew at once what she was thinking, and reached out to draw her to her feet, walking with her toward the steps. “Shall we start with the library tower?”
“Of course.” The door swung open, and the sight of a room full of books lifted her spirits at once. She began rolling up her sleeves with a bright grin. “For the next few days, I ask everyone to forget about me as their Grand Preceptor. I am not going anywhere until the library tower is in order.”
She looked back, her eyes full of light. “I want to restore the old residence to exactly how it was before Grandfather comes home — especially this place. This must be put back exactly right.”
“…Very well.”
And as it turned out, it was not only Hua Zhi who neglected her duties as Grand Preceptor — the Prince Regent was nowhere to be found either. What was rather amusing was that the censors, who normally submitted a memorial over the slightest matter, did not raise a single word about it. But that is a matter for another time.
For now, the two of them worked together to right the bookshelves and move them back into place, while Hua Zhi went through the books one by one — smoothing out folded corners, sorting them by category, and returning them to their proper spots. Tedious as the task was, she went about it with a cheerful gleam in her eye, pausing now and then to hold up a book and tell Yanxi about some funny thing that had happened when she was reading it — and most of those stories had something to do with the elder master of the Hua Family.
The more Gu Yanxi heard, the more clearly he could see: the elder master had cultivated A’Zhi in a way that seemed offhand but was in truth deliberate and attentive. He must have wished only to keep a fine jade from being obscured by dust — never imagining the many upheavals that would follow, nor that it was precisely this care for her talent that would come back to repay him.
A commotion rose from outside — barely suppressed shouts of excitement that came one after another. Hua Zhi leaned against the bookshelf and looked toward the doorway with a smiling gaze. Before long, someone came running into the library tower — none other than Bailin.
“Elder Sister, I knew you’d be here.”
Hua Zhi smiled. “Shouldn’t you be in the palace at this hour?”
Hua Bailin rubbed the back of his head. “His Majesty let me leave the palace early.”
At this, the others who had come a step behind him arrived as well. A cluster of little ones were peering in curiously from the doorway. Hua Zhi walked to the entrance, and amid a chorus of “Elder Sister”s, counted them all — good, not a single one was missing. All of them were here.
Not far away, the several mistresses of the Hua Family stood dabbing at their tears as they looked on. Her own mother in particular seemed to be weaving and heaving so heavily she could barely catch her breath. Of course — since the incident at the palace, Hua Zhi had remained in the palace to recuperate and had not once returned home.
“Bailin, take the younger brothers and get started tidying the library tower. Be careful.”
“Yes.”
As she passed by Zeng Han, Hua Zhi patted him on the head. “Off you go. You’ll love it here.”
Zeng Han’s eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously.