Only now did Yan Sanhe understand why two people who depended on each other for survival ultimately went their separate ways.

The Tang family’s grain raised Shishui for nineteen years; the Music Bureau’s grain raised Guihua for over twenty years. Different grain raised different people.

Shishui couldn’t understand that to Guihua, the Music Bureau was actually home—a place that sheltered from wind and rain.

Guihua couldn’t understand that to Shishui, the Music Bureau was hell on earth. If she couldn’t escape this hell, she could only die.

You cannot discuss ice with a summer insect. Their parting of ways was inevitable.

“Besides being a southern merchant, what else do you know about Li San?”

Guihua wiped her tears with her sleeve. “He only came to the Music Bureau three times—once to spend the night, once to find management about redeeming Shishui, and the last time he led Shishui away.”

After planning so long, the final move was swift and decisive. The person behind Li San was no simple character.

Yan Sanhe: “How much silver did he spend to redeem Shishui?”

Guihua: “Eighteen thousand taels.”

Just as Yan Sanhe was about to frown, Xie Zhifei’s gaze came over. “This price is quite high.”

Yan Sanhe: “What’s normal?”

Xie Zhifei: “Won’t exceed ten thousand taels.”

Yan Sanhe lowered her head and saw Guihua had produced more snot. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and placed it in her hand. “Guihua, didn’t the Music Bureau try to stop it?”

Guihua looked at the handkerchief. Just as she was about to wipe her nose, she caught sight of an embroidered begonia on it and couldn’t bear to use it. She sniffed and said, “They didn’t stop it—only I stopped it.”

Yan Sanhe couldn’t help but look at Xie Zhifei. Besides the high price, perhaps there was another reason the Music Bureau didn’t interfere.

Xie Zhifei blinked lightly, silently mouthing three words: Former Crown Prince.

Their thoughts aligned perfectly. Yan Sanhe pointed at the shoes on Guihua’s feet. “These shoes—when did she give them to you?”

Hearing her ask this, Guihua’s eyes reddened again.

Her birthday was the twelfth of the eighth month. At that time, they’d already fallen out badly, not speaking for many days.

On her birthday, Shishui proactively called her into the room and produced the embroidered shoes. “Try them on. See if they fit.”

She stood there stiffly, unmoving.

“Guihua.”

Shishui called her name, then fell silent for a long while before speaking.

“When I was at the Tang residence before, whenever the embroiderer made new shoes, I’d put them on immediately. New shoes feel different on your feet—like energy springs from the soles, even walking carries wind.”

Her heart vaguely sensed unease. These words sounded like a farewell.

“Try wearing them, walking in them. Perhaps in a few days, you’ll dare to walk outside the Music Bureau.”

Again, wanting her to go outside. What was so good about outside?

She tossed the shoes into Shishui’s arms without courtesy. “Who cares!”

“The day Shishui left was the winter solstice. I remember very clearly—that day I was helping in the kitchen. Eating dumplings on winter solstice was a rule of many years at the Music Bureau.”

Recalling it after all these years, Guihua’s eyes still misted over.

“A young maid came saying Li San had completed the paperwork and already led Shishui out. I… I couldn’t help it—I made an excuse and secretly followed.

Half a month later, a steward claiming to be from Li San’s household came to redeem me—five hundred taels. The steward let me make my own decision. I didn’t agree.”

“She kept her word.”

“Yes, so I don’t hate her—not one bit.”

“Do you regret it?” Yan Sanhe asked softly.

Guihua raised her head, looking into Yan Sanhe’s dark eyes, and shook her head.

“She herself became a nun, which shows I was absolutely right—that Li San was no good person. What do I have to regret?”

This was an answer that surprised Yan Sanhe little, yet gave her a headache.

In Guihua’s understanding, beyond the Music Bureau lay chaos and war. Now that she’d “come back from the dead,” Yan Sanhe wondered: How should I settle her?

“You… how did you end up emptying chamber pots?”

“People grow old and useless, can’t do the delicate work of serving others. Those who used to protect me are gone one by one. As the old saying goes, one emperor, one court.”

Guihua sighed. “Plus that cheap thing Xia Yu made trouble, I…”

“Your name has been struck from the Music Bureau’s register.”

Yan Sanhe pointed at Xie Zhifei and Pei Mingting. “They’ll arrange a good place for you, as long as you’re willing.”

“No need, Miss. Fallen leaves return to roots—I want to be buried with my mother.”

Guihua’s lips pulled into an ugly, bitter smile, then she bit her teeth.

“Besides, Ah Shui is gone. I don’t have many days left either. In this vast Music Bureau, I can’t let that old whore Xia Yu reign supreme alone. I need to keep fighting her for Ah Shui.”

Looking at this Guihua, Yan Sanhe felt indescribable sorrow.

Some people are born having no connection with certain words.

Harmonious marriage, filial children, family reunions, grandchildren filling the halls, happiness and health…

So for this old woman, how to define right and wrong had lost all meaning. The only meaningful thing was to tell her…

“When Jingchen passed away, she wore embroidered shoes exactly like the ones on your feet. I imagine she was always, always thinking of you too.”

Guihua grinned, her sparse few teeth showing quite white in the moonlight.

“Once I put these shoes on, so many young ladies were jealous. They all made pairs exactly like them based on these shoes. Later I heard it even spread to other brothels.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Do you know, Miss?”

Guihua grasped Yan Sanhe’s hand. “These shoes came from the Tang residence. The embroidery thread was a reward from palace nobility. My pair was made stitch-for-stitch identical to hers.”

Speaking and speaking, she felt regret again.

“Such a pity—I wore them too many times and they got dirty. When I go back, I’ll wash and dry them, then put them away. On the day I die, I’ll wear them.”

Yan Sanhe smiled. “When she left, she not only wore these embroidered shoes but also a hundred-field garment. Do you know the origins of that outfit?”

“I know! That was also from the Tang residence. She gave me a set too. I only wore it once—too gaudy and flowery. I couldn’t bear to wear it again.”

Guihua proudly rolled her eyes. “Whatever she had, I had too. She was never stingy spending silver on me. I’ll tell you another secret.”

“What is it?”

“When she left, she didn’t take anything—just a small bundle with that outfit and shoes. All the gold and silver jewelry the clients gave her, all her saved private money—she left it all to me.”

Foolish Guihua!

That’s because she knew you wouldn’t leave the Music Bureau with her.

“Don’t be fooled by that old whore Xia Yu’s glamorous appearance—her silver was all swindled by men. She’s not as wealthy as me. I’ve hidden my money where no one can find it.”

Guihua tremblingly stood up. “Miss, do you have more questions?”

“No more.”

Everything that needed asking had been asked; everything that needed knowing was known.

Guihua’s lips moved several times. “Then… seeing as I’ve said so much, can Miss help me with one thing?”

“Tell me.”

“I want to visit her grave.”

Guihua murmured, “Old friends should meet. I need to persuade her—people can’t think too much. Dragon gates must be leaped, dog holes must be crawled through. One must live one day at a time.

If she’d listened to me back then and stayed at the Music Bureau, she’d definitely have lived longer than now. After death, her coffin wouldn’t have failed to close.

My mother said when you die, it’s dust to dust, earth to earth. Nothing’s worth holding onto…”

Listening to her rambling, Yan Sanhe’s melancholy suddenly dissipated.

In this world, there was a type of person whose fate was more bitter, more lowly than anyone’s, yet they never complained against heaven or fate.

Just like Sister Zhen by the Beicang River—as long as she had wine to drink and meat to eat, she could laugh with satisfaction—

You thieving Heaven, I’ll be happy just to show you!