Cheng Chang was silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod. Folding his sleeves together, he bowed low, humbling himself to offer Fang Fulan a gesture of apology.

He said, “My original intent was to invite her to somewhere quiet. But I don’t need to sit the imperial exams, and I forgot this year had the autumn examination—Manjusri Temple has been crowded these past few days, and as a result, she ended up being slandered because of me. I wanted to step in and stop that Madam Luo, but I was afraid it would only make things worse.”

“Of course it would have made things worse,” Fang Fulan said. “What is the third young master’s standing? If you had stepped in to defend A’Ting just now, it would only have invited baseless speculation from others. It wouldn’t matter to you, but afterward, there would be no washing it clean for A’Ting, no matter what.”

“A’Ting is an innocent, upright young woman—pure-hearted, warm toward others, careful in her conduct. She would never do anything improper. She came here today by invitation, and I trust it was for some proper matter she needed to discuss with the third young master. I also believe that when you arranged to meet her at Manjusri Temple, it was out of consideration for her reputation—otherwise you wouldn’t have gone through such trouble, sending Tian Si to the Marquis’s mansion to find her.”

And yet, Fang Fulan sighed inwardly, even so, she could tell that Yun Xi had come to Manjusri Temple to see Cheng Chang.

Yun Xi had always kept her feelings well hidden, and yet when Tian Si had come to find her, the joy on her face had been impossible to conceal.

Had it not been for that, Fang Fulan wouldn’t have followed her here at all.

“I don’t know what matter someone of the third young master’s exalted standing could possibly need A’Ting’s help with. But as you saw today, the two of you being close—once or twice makes no difference, but if it happens too often, it will eventually give people something to gossip about. A’Ting is a woman, and she will have to marry someday. If she becomes entangled in some unclear, unresolved connection with Prince Cong’s household, who would ever dare marry her afterward?”

Fang Fulan paused, then looked at Cheng Chang. “Forgive my forwardness, but may I ask—if one day A’Ting’s reputation were ruined because of this, would the third young master be willing to marry her? Would you be willing to treat her well for the rest of her life?”

“Do you… have feelings for her?”

Cheng Chang was struck speechless by Fang Fulan’s questions.

These were questions he had never once considered.

He wasn’t a person of this era. Moving through this world was, to him, like watching flowers bloom from across a river—the vast dust of mortal life could never truly touch him, and however beautiful the sun and moon here might be, they weren’t the eternity his heart longed for.

“I…” Cheng Chang opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He wanted to say that if Yun Xi were truly harmed because of him, he would be willing to take responsibility.

But then he thought again—this was a matter that would bind two people’s entire lives together. Responsibility taken without true feeling, out of mere obligation, wasn’t really responsibility at all.

And he himself drifted through life like duckweed on water, rootless even now—how could he possibly settle his heart on anyone?

Besides… he thought again of that inexplicable dream, of himself lying on an operating table.

Real enough to be unsettling.

“The third young master needn’t answer,” Fang Fulan said. “Even if you were willing, out of obligation, I doubt Prince Cong would ever agree to marry you to a woman from a military family.”

She sighed. “I don’t know whether the third young master is aware of the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household’s circumstances. A’Ting has had a very difficult time of it these past years. Though I am only her sister-in-law by marriage, we’ve relied on each other for so long that I’ve long since come to think of her as my own younger sister. A’Ting is… the person closest to me in this world. Weak as my own standing is, I only hope her remaining years can pass smoothly, without too many hardships and setbacks. I wonder if the third young master can understand something of what I feel?”

Cheng Chang had always been quick to grasp what others meant.

Fang Fulan had spoken plainly enough that there was no way he could fail to understand.

Thinking it over, it was true—what benefit had Yun Xi ever gained from associating with him?

And yet, for all the time he’d spent in this world, he’d trusted almost no one—except, inexplicably, her.

He didn’t know if it was because she had twice risked her life to save him from danger, or because of that offhand remark she’d made once, without thinking—that the third young master who’d emerged from the water didn’t seem like someone from this world—which had stirred up his homesickness and made him feel, for the first time, a flicker of warmth in this unfamiliar world.

Yun Xi had said his case was her case too, that she would see it through to the end, that she would investigate it fully.

But thinking it over carefully, this case was so tangled and complicated—how could a lowly constable possibly untangle it alone?

Should she really go on, without any reason to, suppressing the case on his behalf—neither reporting it to the authorities nor informing Prince Cong—running herself ragged for his sake like a headless fly?

She was kind, sincere, warm-hearted, and devoted to her duty.

And purity and kindness were among the most precious things in this world—not something to be used up carelessly.

Cheng Chang nodded at Fang Fulan. “I understand.”

Fang Fulan smiled faintly. “I’ve overstepped today. The third young master surely has his own good judgment in all things—there was probably no need for me to say so much.”

She glanced at the sky. “It’s growing dark. The third young master surely still has important matters to discuss with A’Ting—she’s waiting at the lotus pond pavilion behind the temple. You’d best hurry over. I should go to the prayer hall to burn incense myself.”

Cheng Chang nodded, thanked Fang Fulan, and headed toward the lotus pond pavilion.

Dusk settled in, the evening glow spreading across the clouds, and the last few worshippers who had lingered at the lotus pond pavilion to enjoy the cool air had all left.

A bell rang out from the prayer hall. Yun Xi had been leaning against a pillar of the pavilion, waiting for what felt like half a day, when she saw Cheng Chang approaching from the front courtyard.

With the day growing late, Yun Xi didn’t waste time once she saw him drawing near, and asked directly, “Did the third young master come to find me today because you learned something from the Court of Judicial Review?”

Cheng Chang glanced at her. He hadn’t meant to bring it up again, but then he reconsidered—the eight assassins who’d died in the Court of Judicial Review last night had crossed paths with Yun Xi on the night of the Autumn Festival, and since she was about to leave to suppress the unrest in the outskirts, it seemed worthwhile to give her a heads-up.

“Yes. Last night, more than a dozen of the troublemaking bandits from the Autumn Festival died in the prison cells of the Court of Judicial Review. The eight who surrounded and tried to kill the scarred man—they’re all dead too.”

He added, “And this morning, Luo Fuyou was also taken away by the Court of Judicial Review for questioning.”

Yun Xi nodded. “On the night of the Autumn Festival, the scarred man told me that the true culprit behind the plot against the third young master holds enormous power—they call him ‘the Noble One,’ but no one has ever actually seen him. I meant to cover for him, to help him get to the bamboo platform to find you, but the soldiers arrived. The scarred man told me that if he were taken by the soldiers, he’d be dead sooner or later, so I had no choice but to let him go.”

It seemed the scarred man hadn’t lied—the eight assassins who’d tried to kill him were indeed the Noble One’s men, and they’d been silenced in the prison of the Court of Judicial Review just one night later.

Cheng Chang said, “I know.”

Yun Xi glanced at him, and after a moment, said quietly, “There’s something else. I’ve kept it from you.”

“Before, when the boatman turned himself in, word of it leaked from the Marquis’s mansion. Later, Zhang Dahu disguised himself as the boatman, hoping to lure out the Noble One’s assassins—but again, word leaked from the mansion.”

“Over these past two months, I’ve carefully investigated within the household, and ruled out most people. Only a few remain under suspicion, and the most suspicious of them all… was originally Luo Shu.”

“Luo Shu?” Cheng Chang was startled.

“Mm. After the Marquis’s household fell into decline, the Luo family and the Marquis’s house had little contact. Luo Shu and my sister-in-law weren’t even acquainted before. But this spring, she suddenly grew very close to my sister-in-law, and often accompanied her to the pharmacy for treatment. Both times word leaked out, she happened to be visiting our mansion, and the timing lined up. I later asked at the pharmacy, and the owner said that after Luo Shu brought my sister-in-law there, she always stepped out for a while, unable to bear the smell of the medicine. If she’d been sending word to the Noble One during that time, the timing would have worked out exactly.”

“Of course, I have no solid proof, and I can’t say for certain it was her doing. And the others in the household haven’t been entirely cleared of suspicion either. But once I began to suspect her, I should have pursued it further—only then the whole Yao Susu case broke out, and it left me confused all over again.”

Luo Shu, though a little insincere in her ways, was—as Fang Fulan had said—simply someone with a rather calculating mind, not truly wicked at heart.

Yun Xi had never been sure whether that was simply Luo Shu’s true nature, or just a mask.

Not until the Yao Susu case broke, and Luo Shu knelt in the courtroom, frightened and resentful, confessing her true feelings—admitting she was fond of Pei Lan, jealous of Yao Susu—did Yun Xi come to feel that Luo Shu could be believed after all.

“Thinking back on it now, I should have gone to question her the moment I first suspected her—or at the very least, come to discuss it with the third young master sooner. Now that she’s locked up in the Court of Judicial Review, even if I wanted to ask her, it’s too late.”

Hearing Yun Xi say this, Cheng Chang couldn’t help but glance at her.

Her eyes were lowered, her lips pressed tightly together, wearing an expression of self-reproach.

He could actually understand why she’d held back the matter of Luo Shu and not brought it to him sooner.

The leak had come from within the Marquis’s mansion. If the Noble One’s accomplice turned out to be Luo Shu, that would be one thing—but if it wasn’t Luo Shu, if it turned out to be anyone from within the Marquis’s own household, that would be something Yun Xi could hardly bear to accept.

He suddenly recalled what Fang Fulan had said earlier.

“I don’t know what matter someone of the third young master’s exalted standing could possibly need A’Ting’s help with.”

That was true, wasn’t it? What did any of this really have to do with Yun Xi?

Why should she help him? What obligation did she have to?

She’d even placed herself in an impossible position for his sake, put herself in danger time and again, all to help him.

Just then, Yun Xi suddenly said, “The third young master mentioned earlier that this morning, Luo Shu’s father, Lord Luo, was also taken by the Court of Judicial Review for questioning?”

Cheng Chang gave a soft “Mm.”

Yun Xi looked thoughtful. “In the Yao Susu case, Pei Lan is already a suspect, and he’s a third-rank general at court. Lord Luo holds a fourth-rank position…”

Her eyes lit up. “I understand now—this case must be shifting to a joint trial by the three tribunals!”

Cheng Chang was startled at first—being from the modern era, he wasn’t particularly attuned to the political affairs of ancient times—but after Yun Xi’s reminder, he thought it over carefully and understood.

Pei Lan was a third-rank general, and Luo Fuyou a fourth-rank official at court—even if the Court of Judicial Review wanted to try the case, it wasn’t within its power alone to handle.

And the Court of Judicial Review was already one of the highest judicial bodies of the era. If even it couldn’t handle the case, then only a joint trial by the three tribunals would do—the Court of Judicial Review, the Ministry of Justice, and the Censorate together.

Cheng Chang served as a Patrol Censor within the Censorate.

Which meant… he could go see Luo Shu himself?

At the same moment, Yun Xi said, “Third young master, you’re a censor—I can’t question Luo Shu myself, but you could try going to the prison of the Court of Judicial Review to speak with her.”

In truth, a Patrol Censor held too low a rank to enter the prison of the Court of Judicial Review directly for a case of this magnitude—normally only officials of Attendant Censor rank or above could do so.

Fortunately, censors investigating cases could bypass rank restrictions, and as the young lord of Prince Cong’s household besides, a word to the wardens of the prison would be enough to let him in for questioning.

Yun Xi said, “It’s a pity I’ll be leaving for the outskirts in a day or two to suppress the unrest, so I can’t accompany you to the Court of Judicial Review. Otherwise, if you could find a way to bring me along when you go to the prison, since I know Luo Shu well, I could help you tell whether anything she says is suspicious.”

Hearing this, Cheng Chang glanced at her again.

The evening was faintly cool, her bright eyes shining, her long lashes lying over them, dense as a crow’s feathers.

He thought she looked quite lovely.

In the twenty-first century, with material abundance and advanced technology, people’s pursuit of beauty had reached an unprecedented level.

Girls who’d chased after Cheng Chang had been as numerous as fish swimming upstream, one after another, some of them undeniably beautiful. But in the indifference of city life, where every encounter was fleeting, Cheng Chang had seen so many pretty faces that he’d come to feel immune to beauty altogether.

How long had it been—two years, three years, even five—since he’d last thought a girl was truly good-looking?

Perhaps it was the purity of the sunset from a thousand years ago, casting a soft shimmer across her cheek.

Or perhaps it was the earnest, wholehearted way she looked out for him that he found so touching.

Cheng Chang found himself saying, “Actually, you don’t have to…” He paused. “You don’t have to work so hard investigating this case anymore.”

Yun Xi was startled. “Why not?”

“This case has nothing to do with you to begin with. Besides, you’ve just been made a captain now, no longer serving at the Capital Prefecture—investigating cases isn’t your duty anymore. There’s no need to push yourself so hard.”

Thinking it over carefully, since he’d arrived in this world, she’d already risked her life for him at least twice.

Once at the water pavilion of the Pei mansion, once on the night of the Autumn Festival.

Blades and swords showed no mercy—however skilled she was in martial arts, what if she were injured in a moment of carelessness?

Cheng Chang suddenly wondered—if he hadn’t met Yun Xi after crossing over into this world, would he have died long ago?

The evening breeze picked up, brushing over the lotus flowers in the pond, carrying with it a faint fragrance.

Hearing Cheng Chang’s words, Yun Xi was silent for a long moment, then lowered her eyes and said in a muffled voice, “This case was mine to begin with. Even now that I’m a captain, I can’t just abandon it halfway.”

She herself wasn’t entirely sure—if the third young master in this case had been someone else entirely, would she still have thrown herself into it with such devotion?

After all, Cheng Chang meant something entirely different to her than anyone else.

Cheng Chang said, “It’s yours, but it shouldn’t have to be yours alone. I should have reported it to the authorities long ago. The reason I suppressed it was because…”

He paused briefly.

He had never told anyone the true reason he hadn’t reported it, why he’d suppressed the case entirely on his own—that he felt, in some inexplicable way, guided by the “dead Cheng Chang.” Who would ever believe that?

But he didn’t want to hide it from Yun Xi, so he said, vaguely, “I suppressed it because of a kind of instinct.”

Yun Xi nodded.

She only half understood.

The “Noble One” who wished him harm held terrifying power—there were only a handful of such people in all of Jinling. Even if he reported it, if it reached the Emperor’s ears, it might not end well at all.

What if… it was Emperor Zhaoyuan himself?

There was nothing to do but investigate bit by bit.

Cheng Chang said, “When I find the right moment, I’ll tell the authorities everything. After you receive the edict, focus on suppressing the unrest in peace. You wanted to join the army, didn’t you? Now’s the perfect chance. Leave this case to me—you don’t need to keep worrying about it anymore.”

Yun Xi turned her face away to look at the lotus flowers beneath the setting sun, and after a moment, said, “No.”

“I don’t want to only handle half of it.” Today she was unusually stubborn. “I… I’m already caught up in this, one way or another. Those assassins know who I am, and the ‘Noble One’ behind them surely knows too. It’s too late for me to step back now.”

With that, as though afraid Cheng Chang might refuse, she hurried to change the subject, fumbling in her pouch and pulling out a safety talisman, which she held out to him. “Third young master, this is for you.”

Cheng Chang was taken aback.

Yun Xi said, “I’m about to leave for the outskirts to put down the unrest—ten days at the least, over a month at the most. While I’m away from Jinling, you must be extra careful, third young master.”

Whenever anyone had asked her today, she had always said she’d come to Manjusri Temple for a safety talisman.

He’d assumed it was merely an excuse—he hadn’t expected she’d actually gotten one.

And what’s more… it was meant for him.

An odd feeling stirred in Cheng Chang’s chest. Such a gesture of goodwill wasn’t something he’d never encountered in his past life.

He couldn’t help but look at Yun Xi, his feelings too complicated to name, and not knowing quite what to say, when Yun Xi added, evenly and naturally, “In the past, whenever my father and brother went off to war, our whole family would go to the temple to pray for their safety. Today, with nothing to do at the temple, I asked for one for my sister-in-law, and thought I’d get one for the third young master too, while I was at it.”

She had rehearsed this explanation many times in her mind while waiting for him earlier, and now, saying it aloud, it came out without any obvious flaw.

Seeing her look so relaxed and natural, Cheng Chang was momentarily distracted, and decided he must be overthinking things.

He thanked her, took the talisman from her hand, and tucked it into his robe.

With nothing more to say for the moment, the two of them headed back toward the front courtyard together.

The evening drum sounded from within the temple, and the worshippers, having burned their last incense, began to disperse.

Fang Fulan was still waiting outside the prayer hall. Seeing Yun Xi and Cheng Chang, she said nothing, and left through the temple gate together with the two of them.

Prince Cong’s carriage was already prepared. Yun Xi watched Cheng Chang climb up onto the carriage shaft, and thinking of how many days he’d be gone to the outskirts, wondering whether the “Noble One” might make some move during that time, she couldn’t help saying, “Third young master, please take good care of yourself.”

Cheng Chang turned back to look at her and nodded. “You too.”

Night fell quickly. The carriage hadn’t traveled far along the road before everything around it grew completely dark. It seemed as if the bustle of the world only quieted for that brief instant of dusk—soon the lanterns were lit throughout the streets and alleys, and the city of Jinling grew lively once more.

Cheng Chang sat in silence in the carriage for a while, then took out the safety talisman Yun Xi had given him.

In some ways, Cheng Chang and Yun Xi were actually quite alike—both believed firmly in reciprocity, that a kindness shown to them by one measure should be repaid threefold.

But his sense of reciprocity was fundamentally different from hers.

Yun Xi acted out of deep feeling and loyalty; Cheng Chang, only out of a sense of propriety.

In this life, human relationships were a ledger to be kept, and he calculated them carefully—he would rather come out at a loss than owe anyone anything, so that when all was said and done, he could walk away unburdened, with nothing left to weigh on him.

Looking at the talisman in his hand, Cheng Chang remembered something.

The last girlfriend he’d had in his previous life had actually treated him quite well. At one point she’d wanted to go to Japan, and since his health hadn’t allowed him to go with her, he’d transferred her fifty thousand yuan instead.

When she came back from Japan, she’d brought him an omamori, said to be from the most efficacious temple in Kyoto, meant to protect him for the rest of his life.

Cheng Chang had been sickly and plagued by misfortune since birth, and had never put much stock in such things, but out of consideration for her feelings, he’d bought her the designer bag she’d been eyeing the month before, as a return gift.

But after that… there was no after that.

Like all his relationships that had fizzled out without resolution, she’d started out attentive and caring when he fell ill, then gradually grown distant, and finally proposed breaking up.

And on the very day she proposed the breakup, she’d forgotten to call the caretaker to come.

When she left the hospital room, Cheng Chang had been asleep, with no one watching his IV drip. Air had gotten into his bloodstream unnoticed, and the pain had jolted him awake.

When his friends and colleagues heard about it, they’d all been outraged, calling the girl money-grubbing and ungrateful, saying Cheng Chang was a fool with too much money.

But Cheng Chang hadn’t seen it that way.

By that point, he’d already come to see romantic feelings as something rather bland, almost tasteless. He hadn’t really been all that fond of that ex-girlfriend to begin with, and he hadn’t felt much pain at all when they broke up.

So he’d felt that the way things had gone between them had been fine, in its own way.

He’d spent money to buy a few parts genuine, a few parts false, of her affection—after all, she had kept watch at his bedside for half a month straight, cooking soup and porridge for him every single day. No one was obligated to do that, were they?

An equal exchange—he hadn’t really lost anything by it.

Turning the safety talisman Yun Xi had given him over in his fingers, he thought, quite naturally, what he ought to give her in return.

But he thought it over for a long while and couldn’t come up with anything at all.

Probably because Yun Xi’s gesture was simply a pure, uncomplicated act of kindness.

Cheng Chang felt it was worth far more, in fact, than that omamori from a thousand years in the future.

The sound of galloping horses came from outside—it seemed soldiers were patrolling the streets. Cheng Chang suddenly recalled what Yun Xi had said earlier, that every time before her father and brother went off to battle, she would go to the temple with them to pray for their safety.

And now that her father and brother were gone, she’d been so occupied with praying for others’ safety that she’d forgotten to ask for one for herself.

Cheng Chang lifted the carriage curtain and asked Sun Haiping, “Didn’t Father mention that in a few days, the imperial clan would be going to Baiyun Temple together?”

“Yes. Has the young prince forgotten? It’s a custom set down by the ancestors of the imperial house—sacrifices to Heaven, prayers for a bountiful harvest. You’re supposed to go every year at the start of the Chushu solar term, though you’ve never gone in years past.”

Cheng Chang said, “Ah. Well, go tell Father I’ll be accompanying him this time.”

Sun Haiping was puzzled, and reminded him, “Young Prince, that trip takes a full three days, and there are so many rules to follow—it’s terribly dull.” He asked cautiously, “Young Prince, what’s made you decide to go this time?”

Cheng Chang was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m going to ask for a safety talisman.”