“Night falls on parasol trees in stillness, moonlight stands alone amid clouds.”

Mo Zi faintly heard someone reciting two lines of poetry in her ear. Realizing it was a man’s voice, she immediately grabbed a thick wooden stick from under her pillow and said viciously, “Who are you? Where did you come from? Who sent you?”

“Shouldn’t you open your eyes first before asking so many questions?” A light laugh, the voice so familiar.

“If I could open them, naturally I would. Don’t you know being woken from sweet dreams is most exhausting?” Recognizing who it was, Mo Zi put down the stick and rubbed open her eyelids.

What met her eyes was this scene:

A warm, refined man in black robes, dark hair combed up, smooth as silk, high topknot with wooden hairpin. He sat in the wooden chair by the window, a paper slip in his hand. Moonlight on the window paper made the area behind him shine snow-white, setting off ink-dyed eyes, rich and deep as night.

“Did you write this?” Yuan Cheng put down the paper slip, seemingly looking over.

Uncertain, because he faced away from the moonlight.

Mo Zi’s consciousness still hazy, asked, “Write what?”

“Night falls on parasol trees in stillness, moonlight stands alone amid clouds.” Fingertips translucent beneath the moon-white light, tapping the paper slip.

“Oh—after reading so many ancient books, if I don’t plagiarize, surely I can write two lines myself.”

“You don’t have parasol trees here. That tree outside is an elm. Moreover, there are no clouds tonight.” After reading these two lines, he’d deliberately pushed open the window to look, wanting to appreciate such scenery.

Mo Zi rolled her eyes. “Teacher Yuan is so talented—don’t you understand the mystery of artistic conception? Artistic conception, understand? You can’t see parasol trees, but I can. You say there are no clouds tonight, but I see a sea of clouds birthing the moon. The key is, I can’t very well say ‘Night falls on elm leaves, cloudless bright moonlight,’ can I?”

Yuan Cheng laughed aloud. “Never imagined Brother Mo had such poetic talent—this one is humbled, humbled.”

Mo Zi snorted. “If you’re being reluctant, don’t speak. Save your falseness for others—no need with me.”

That tall, handsome figure suddenly stood up, walking two steps toward her bed, his shadow touching her quilt.

“Yuan Cheng—” Mo Zi called out anxiously, then fearing she’d disturb Zan Jin in the adjacent room, hastily lowered her voice. “What are you doing running to Hongyu in the dead of night? What exactly do you want from me?” She’d solidly recuperated for half a month this time, confirming the injury wouldn’t relapse again before starting to frequent Hongyu. For three days she’d been staying at the yard, waiting for tomorrow to complete the final day of hiring.

“I came for a return visit.” Such a clever girl, seeing him so clearly. But what was to be done? He wanted to play games with her.

“Return visit?” She must be dreaming. This person spoke without head or tail.

“Having received your card and heart’s intent, unlike you who didn’t even show your face, I must come personally to give thanks. Just so happens tonight—a beautiful night and lovely scenery—” His shadow crossed over the entire wooden bed, climbing straight up the inner wall.

Mo Zi sighed, raising her hand to her forehead. “Yuan Cheng, you’re so abnormal today. Are you happy or angry?” She wasn’t so narcissistic as to think his midnight visit was for romance.

The shadow gradually retreated as he sat back in the chair, finishing his sentence. “Perfect for a pot of good wine.”

She knew it. So she rose, put on a long robe, and sat opposite him, pushing open the window. Silver-white flooded the table, and the river’s scent surged in.

Yuan Cheng watched her don the blue robe over her white undergarment right in front of him, smiling lightly again. “You truly consider yourself male?”

Mo Zi shot him a look. She’d lived through an era when underwear was worn as outerwear—would she fear putting on clothes over already impenetrably sealed undergarments in front of someone?

“You’ve seen me at my most wretched. And I’ve seen you at your most wretched. Besides, if there were an earthquake, I’d dare run outside in my undergarments. In any case, one must keep up with environmental changes.” Sorry, but she didn’t blush.

Yuan Cheng turned over the porcelain cups on the table, pouring two cups of wine. He truly had brought good wine.

The two slowly sipped their small cups like this, neither speaking, both looking out the window. Before long, whoever finished first spoke first.

Mo Zi said, “That gift—were you satisfied with it?” During her second recuperation period, again bored—thinking there was no reason to accept his favors for nothing, she’d made this “heart’s intent.”

“As I just said, if you’d delivered it personally, I’d be more satisfied.” Now? It fell a bit short.

Mo Zi argued, “I was recuperating from injuries.” Having a gift accepted, don’t be picky.

Yuan Cheng smiled, pouring himself another cup. “Brother Mo’s hands are truly skillful. Not only piloting and building ships but also creating deceptive imitations. Based on that carving skill alone, someone would willingly pay a thousand gold.”

Mo Zi wasn’t at all surprised Yuan Cheng knew. “So I thought this gift was quite sufficient to express my meaning.”

“That’s naturally so. I heard you fear your shipbuilding secrets leaking out, all done in sealed rooms. I also personally saw you dismantle the ship after passing through Ghost Gate. And you personally carved a white tree peony for me—I guess you deliberately revealed another of your secrets. That Brother Mo would trust me so—I’m unworthy of such honor.” Yuan Cheng’s understanding was one hundred percent.

Mo Zi shook her head, sighing her own inadequacy. True, he’d sent people to save her life—she wouldn’t be so stingy as to only send a fake flower. She’d displayed her carving skills before him not just out of trust but also meaning for him to make use of it.

He and she were mutually beneficial friends. He helped her once, and she wanted to help him back once.

“Yuan Cheng, you came—is there something you want me to do?” Beautiful night and lovely scenery, suitable for discussing serious matters.

“Brother Mo, I came because there’s something I need your help with.” And not helping wouldn’t do.

Mo Zi watched Yuan Cheng take out a folded paper from his bosom. Spreading it on the table for a look, she furrowed her brow.

“Yuan Cheng, I only know how to build ships, not houses.” It was a structural diagram of a mansion. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

Yuan Cheng was unhurried. “This is the Yuan Mansion reconstruction plan the Ministry of Works gave me—they’ll naturally send people to supervise construction.”

Though Mo Zi didn’t know how to build houses, her handicraft skills were excellent. Having carved many pavilions and towers in her spare time, examining the diagram more carefully, she laughed twice. “You truly have great ability. This reconstruction plan is bold and sweeping, bound to make your home magnificent and splendid. Looking at this, you’ll become the Great Zhou’s most luxuriously housed Imperial Academy Erudite.”

The two often spoke with needling opposition, so Yuan Cheng paid no mind to her mocking laughter, pointing to a certain place on the diagram. “Only this place—you must personally do the work. I’ll arrange for you and your people to enter the mansion, but you must choose the most trustworthy people to help you build together. Like—those four brothers who went through Ghost Gate with you, who could share one boat and one fate.”

Mo Zi became serious, following his pointing to look for quite a while, somewhat uncertain. “Could it be—? Yuan Cheng, what exactly do you want to do?” Reconstructing a desolate mansion, and wanting her to help him with tricks.

“That day you asked me if I’d let go of what I carried on my back?” He brought up old matters.

“Then, you said you didn’t know.” What he’d given her was an ambiguous answer.

“I’ve thought about it—over a hundred lives of the Yuan family surely can’t have died for nothing.” Having been dejected for a time from setbacks, with days becoming too comfortable, he wanted to find something to do. Moreover, everyone in his family had died, yet those officials who’d participated back then lived with great pleasure—he wasn’t quite reconciled.

“Do you want revenge now?” When Mo Zi said this, she was very calm. She wasn’t a weak person who would, like other women, earnestly urge letting go of hatred.

Not being the person involved, one could never understand the pain of experiencing life-and-death tribulations.

If he’d figured it out himself, that was good. Life was short—living for oneself was carefree. But if he couldn’t let go, then simply go seek justice until his heart was satisfied and truly liberated. Two paths were actually each person’s choice. Just as if her past let her go, then she’d let go of past people and events. But if they insisted on coming to her door, she absolutely wouldn’t be foolishly naive like before—she’d definitely collect both principal and interest.

The most classic line urging people toward goodness was: After revenge, would you be happy?

In her view, this wasn’t about happiness or unhappiness but rather that after revenge, there’d be no burden. Without burdens, naturally one could properly start living again, establishing new goals.

Yuan Cheng quietly gazed at her, smile pale, tone compassionate, as if pitying himself. “If I don’t take revenge, what else can I do?”

This wasn’t the first time Mo Zi heard him speak in such a tone. All along the way rescuing him from Nande, he’d been like this—struggling to survive in despair yet also wanting to give up survival, so self-contradictory.

If he didn’t take revenge, what else could he do?

If she didn’t build ships, what else could she do?

“I’ll help and see.” She said, “Anyway, revenge doesn’t necessarily require bloody storms, and it’s not necessarily justice defeating evil. Who knows, maybe in the end it’s succeed or die trying—just having tried one’s best. Or maybe halfway through, finding a new goal, the old one gets abandoned.”

Yuan Cheng heard her speak disconnectedly and couldn’t help laughing. “You go succeed or die trying—don’t drag me along.”

Mo Zi reached for the wine pot but Yuan Cheng grabbed it first. She could only frown at the not-a-drop-left wine cup. “Yuan Cheng, didn’t you come to drink wine with me? So stingy.”

“Construction begins in ten days. During this time, find good people and think about how to build while avoiding others’ notice. For all needs, just report expenses to me.” Yuan Cheng drained the last cup of wine, rising and walking to the door.

“Naturally. Where would I get silver?” Mo Zi followed behind, seeing him off.

Opening the door, she saw a thin, middle-aged man outside, an unfamiliar face she’d never seen.

“You couldn’t have brought Qianniu Guards here, right?” Not that foolish.

“He’s not.” Yuan Cheng stepped over the threshold. “Don’t see me off—go back to sleep.”

Mo Zi made a sound of acknowledgment. Just about to turn around, she heard the man tell Yuan Cheng something about putting the boy next door to sleep, asking if he should just be left like that.

She turned back glaring. “Yuan Cheng, your man put Zan Jin to sleep—what if someone comes to attack me?” This unremarkable-looking man had very high martial skills?

Yuan Cheng instructed the man to go undo it for Zan Jin.

Mo Zi tilted her head, unable to quite figure it out. “You have all kinds of strange people around you—do you still lack me?”

Yuan Cheng looked at her, only saying one sentence. “When I was about to die, I had no strange people of any kind around me—only you.”

When the middle-aged man came out, he left.

Then she heard Zan Jin shouting loudly next door. “Damn it, who slapped me?”

Glancing at the malnourished elm tree, looking up at the bare moon, Mo Zi sighed. What ghost artistic conception?

Today’s second update is an extra for rewards, not a monthly ticket extra.

I owe many chapters, I know. But recently many dear ones have given rewards, so let me add an extra update for them.

Wishing all dears a happy new year, good health, and joyful celebrations of the new year.