Yun Xi said, “The Third Young Master is too kind. Since it concerns this humble officer’s own case, it’s only right that I come.”

As the two of them talked, Tian Si finally caught up, panting.

Yun Xi asked him, “Where did you go just now?”

He’d been waiting with her at the temple gate a moment ago, and then when she’d turned around, he’d vanished.

Tian Si felt uneasy about it—he’d clearly said something to Constable Yun before leaving.

At the time, Constable Yun had been staring fixedly at the temple gate and had answered him with an “Mm.” He’d assumed she’d spotted the Third Young Master and had no time to pay attention to him, never realizing she’d simply been lost in thought.

Tian Si, being a stutterer and an honest sort, didn’t think it necessary to explain himself further, so he simply said, “You, you came in such a hurry at noon. I thought, thought you hadn’t eaten lunch, so I went to, to buy you something.”

Though he’d gone to buy something, his hands were entirely empty.

He added, “Went—too late. This, this time of day, the bun shop at the street corner was already closed.”

Yun Xi glanced at the sky and said, “It’s fine, the yamen will serve dinner soon enough.”

Then she turned to Cheng Chang. “Third Young Master, might I ask what business you needed to discuss with this humble officer?”

Cheng Chang said, “There’s a pavilion in the Guanyin temple grounds, very quiet. Let’s talk there.”

The moment the three of them sat down in the pavilion, a servant from the princely household, who had accompanied the consort’s party for quite a while, turned back and offered up an exquisite little brocade box, saying, “Reporting to the Young Prince, the Princess Consort, partway home, thought the banquet tonight would start late and worried you might go hungry, so she had this one bring you this food box to tide you over.”

Cheng Chang accepted it, saying, “Thank her for me.”

He wasn’t particularly hungry, but thinking that Yun Xi had rushed here without even eating lunch, he handed the box over to her instead. “Here.”

The summer days were long, and though evening had come, dusk had not yet fully settled, but the sun had at least shed its harshest glare.

The two of them sat on the corridor benches within the pavilion, a comfortable distance apart. Yun Xi looked at the box suddenly placed before her, at the play of light and shadow across Cheng Chang’s slender fingers, and for a moment was caught off guard.

Cheng Chang said, “Didn’t you skip lunch? Eat this first.”

His tone was entirely natural, making any refusal seem needlessly affected.

Yun Xi thanked him, took the box, set it on her lap, and silently lifted the lid.

Inside, neatly arranged, were small squares of exquisite ice lotus cakes. Just as she was about to reach for one, her hand suddenly paused.

After a moment, she closed the box back up exactly as it had been and handed it back to Cheng Chang, saying, “Perhaps… it’s best you eat this yourself when you’re hungry, Third Young Master.”

Puzzled, Cheng Chang instinctively took the box and lifted the lid to look inside, only to find, tucked beside the cake in the lower right corner, a small, delicate pearl earring.

Since the earring was the same color as the cake, it had gone unnoticed at first, as though it had simply been dropped there by accident while the cakes were being made.

Cheng Chang understood at once.

Earlier, at the Guanyin temple, he’d heard the princess consort repeatedly praising Miss Lin’s skill in cooking, remarking on her fine hand with pastries, including these ice-skinned lotus cakes—perfect for cooling off in the summer heat.

Such a delicate pearl earring wasn’t something the consort would wear casually, nor was it something ordinary household servants could afford—it suited Miss Lin quite well, though.

He realized the ice lotus cakes hadn’t come from the consort at all, but had been made specifically by Lin Ruonan for him.

Cheng Chang pressed his lips together and fell silent for a moment.

He knew such things didn’t happen by pure coincidence. If the earring hadn’t been deliberately left there by Lin Ruonan herself, then it had been done at the consort’s or Madam Zhang’s suggestion—either way, it was clearly meant to convey her feelings.

Cheng Chang, in truth, felt nothing toward Lin Ruonan. Despite months of frequent contact and no shortage of conversation, he simply couldn’t muster even a shred of affection for her. Even if he were to marry her, at most he could manage mutual respect—anything resembling true harmony between husband and wife was entirely out of the question.

Cheng Chang himself wasn’t entirely sure what kind of person he was drawn to.

In his past life, he’d never really invested much genuine emotion in romance. He’d dated plenty, but most relationships had simply fizzled out without resolution, and by the time he’d transmigrated, he’d already been single for several years. He’d made his peace with it, figuring that living out one’s life alone wasn’t so bad after all—otherwise, he’d rather find someone he truly cared for.

But he didn’t hand the lotus cakes over to Yun Xi either.

It was, after all, a gesture of someone’s genuine feelings, Cheng Chang thought. Whether he accepted it or not was one matter, but passing it along to someone else would be disrespectful.

It was much like how, in his past life, he’d received far too many love letters to read them all, yet he’d still carefully tucked them away in a drawer rather than throwing them out or handing them off for others to mock.

Someone had poured their fluttering heart into writing those words—it wasn’t right to treat that carelessly.

Cheng Chang called over a servant boy, handed him the box, and said, “Keep this safe for me.”

Then he turned to Yun Xi, meaning to bring up the actual matter at hand, but found her sitting with her eyes lowered, hands folded neatly on her lap, silent for a long while, as if lost in a daze.

This girl was usually so sharp—could she have gone dazed from hunger?

Thinking this, Cheng Chang said, “There’s a restaurant nearby. Come on, let’s get you some dinner.”

With that, he stood and headed out of the Guanyin temple.

Yun Xi, startled, picked up the sword she’d set aside and hurried after him. “There’s no need to trouble yourself. Isn’t the mansion holding a banquet tonight, and didn’t the Third Young Master promise the Princess Consort you’d return to dine? If you eat now, what will you do when the banquet starts? The yamen provides meals—I’ll eat when I get back.”

The reason the mansion was hosting a banquet was that the consort, upon meeting Lin Ruonan on the spot, had decided on impulse to arrange it, meaning it wouldn’t start until quite late.

“It’s fine, I’ll join you for a bite first, then head home,” Cheng Chang said. “Last time, with the boatman business, I troubled you and said I’d treat you to a meal. This time, I’ve made you run all the way out here again.”

He glanced at the sky and added with a smile, “And it just so happens I’m hungry too.”

The clouds at the edge of the sky had taken on the colors of sunset, and the restaurants along the street corner were already lit up brightly.

Perhaps because of the summer heat, the people of Jinling preferred to stay indoors, and business at the restaurant was rather slow. The servant boy at the entrance greeting guests was half-asleep, but the moment he caught sight of Cheng Chang, he snapped awake as if he’d seen an immortal descend from the heavens, staring dumbstruck for a long moment before finally rousing himself and hastily ushering the distinguished guest inside.

Once seated in a private room on the second floor, Cheng Chang ordered the dishes.

While waiting for the food, he wasted no time and said to Yun Xi, “Actually, the reason I sent someone to your mansion wasn’t because something happened at the woodshed—it’s that I have something else I need your help with.”

He considered his words for a moment before continuing. “Do you remember the servant with the scarred palm, the one who followed us to the waterside pavilion that day at the old matriarch’s birthday banquet at the Pei residence?”

“I remember.” Yun Xi nodded.

That scarred-palmed servant was the one who had originally given the boatman the gold bars.

Acting on his instructions, the boatman had slipped the gold bars into the Third Young Master’s sleeve pouch, meaning to drown him. When that plot failed, the boatman had instead found himself hunted down, and had come to the Jingzhao Prefecture to confess—only to be poisoned to death.

Cheng Chang had then had Zhang Dahu disguise himself as the boatman, locked in the Jingzhao Prefecture woodshed, in hopes of luring the assassins into a trap to silence him.

Unfortunately, over a month had passed, and there had been no movement at the woodshed whatsoever.

The scarred-palmed servant who had appeared that day had become their only lead.

Cheng Chang said, “I recently received a note—it should be from this scarred-palmed man. He said he has no way to come find me directly at the mansion, and wants to arrange a meeting with me on the day of the Summer Solstice Festival at the end of this month.”

The Summer Solstice Festival was normally an ordinary festival in the Great Sui Dynasty, but this year, with the great victory at the northern frontier, His Majesty was in high spirits and had ordered the Astronomical Bureau to select an auspicious day, deciding on the Summer Solstice Festival for him to leave the palace and celebrate among the common people.

Since His Majesty would be leaving the palace, imperial relatives like Cheng Chang would naturally need to accompany him.

“I’ll be attending His Majesty that day, so it might not be convenient for me to meet him. Aside from myself, you’re the only other person who’s seen this scarred-palmed man, so I wanted to trouble you to keep an eye out that day. If you find him, bring him to me.”

“Understood,” Yun Xi agreed at once. “I’ll be patrolling the streets that day anyway, so I’ll be sure to keep a close watch.”

Before long, the waiter brought out the food.

The dishes weren’t excessive—nothing wasted—but more than enough for the two of them.

Yun Xi looked over the food on the table, all of it mild in flavor, and felt a flicker of confusion.

Before, when Cheng Chang used to cause trouble around Jinling, she’d had plenty of occasion to clean up after him, visiting pleasure boats and restaurants alike, and back then the tables had always been laden with rich delicacies from land and sea, every dish heavily seasoned.

How had a single fall into the water changed even his taste in food?

Hadn’t the physician who examined him that day said there was nothing wrong with him? No mention of dietary restrictions.

Yun Xi couldn’t help but glance up at Cheng Chang.

She saw him holding his chopsticks evenly, eating quietly, though not in some rigid, formal manner—his movements as he picked up food and scooped soup were elegant and unhurried.

She’d never seen anyone eat quite like this before.

Neither careless nor stiffly proper.

It was, somehow, quite pleasant to watch.

Of course, it made sense that she’d never seen it before—this was table etiquette from a later era that had absorbed elements of Western culture, and Cheng Chang, having worked in risk management with clients mostly from the business elite, had naturally mastered its finer points.

Sensing Yun Xi’s gaze, Cheng Chang looked up and asked, “Doesn’t the food suit your taste?”

He made to call the waiter over to order something else.

Yun Xi quickly stopped him. “That’s not it.”

After a moment, she explained, “This humble officer just feels that… the Third Young Master has changed.”

Cheng Chang was taken aback for a moment, then just smiled, not paying it much mind.

Over these past several months, many people had said as much—that he’d learned from experience and turned over a new leaf after his fall into the water, no longer causing the same kind of trouble as before.

Of course, some also said that a leopard couldn’t change its spots, and wondered whether he might one day revert to his old ways.

Seeing Cheng Chang fall quiet, Yun Xi’s confusion only deepened, building until it felt as though it could no longer be contained.

“Actually, it’s not really that you’ve changed,” she added.

“This humble officer never had much contact with the Third Young Master before, so I don’t really know what you were truly like.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s just that… ever since your fall into the water, you don’t seem like… someone from here.”

She didn’t specify what “here” meant.

Jinling? That didn’t feel quite right.

The Great Sui? That didn’t feel right either.

But where, exactly, was “here”?

Yun Xi looked up at Cheng Chang, trying to find the words to explain.

But she saw Cheng Chang slowly set down his chopsticks, staring at her in stunned silence.