The lovely dishes came out of the basket one by one, a slice of preserved egg drizzled with a bright red sauce, red and black set vividly against each other. Nie Yunzhu was just setting the small plate down on the counter when she caught sight of the two men clearly, blinking, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. A moment later, something seemed to click, and her smile faded. She gave a slight bow, turned her head away, and continued taking out the preserved eggs.

“…Waiter, if you’ll excuse me — if any of the sauces run low, just come find me…”

By this point Gu Yanzhen had already made his way over to the counter, his face full of bewilderment, watching her go about her work. The waiter seemed to sense something was off and hesitated, not stepping forward to ask what he needed. Once she’d finished quietly instructing the waiter, Nie Yunzhu gathered up her basket and finally turned to him with a smile, nodding. “Master Gu.”

“Yun… zhu?” Gu Yanzhen stared at the preserved eggs. “How could you possibly… how could you be out here selling things like this?”

“Is something wrong with that?” Nie Yunzhu gathered her things and started to walk out, frowning slightly, turning the question back on him. Gu Yanzhen followed after her, thinking for a long moment, the words rising to his lips only to falter, before finally taking a breath and composing himself.

“I — I just got back from the Eastern Capital. I went to the Jinfeng Pavilion looking for you, only to learn you were no longer there. I asked where you’d gone, but they wouldn’t say — I assumed you’d found a good match, and was happy for you. But now… how could this be? Out here in public, selling things like this?”

The street bustled with passersby. Nie Yunzhu walked on with her head down, thinking for a moment before finally smiling. “Thank you for your concern, sir. Though I may be working in public now, I’m simply earning a living with my own two hands — there’s nothing improper about it. Compared to my life before, my heart has finally found its place. There’s no need to worry about me… ah, your friend is still waiting upstairs — you should probably head back to him soon.”

Gu Yanzhen sighed, shaking his head in frustration. “Never mind that… that was Shen Miao, styled Zishan, just now — you’ve met him a few times yourself in the past, haven’t you? You didn’t recognize him?” Nie Yunzhu kept her head lowered, so he couldn’t see her expression, and he smiled again. “Ah, well — dressed as you are now, I suppose he didn’t recognize you either…”

Yunzhu walked on with her head down, and he simply followed alongside, unsure what topic to bring up, eventually falling back on scattered memories of the past. “…I still remember that day at Egret Isle, when your zither playing stunned the entire gathering — I said as much at the time… that year, when they held the contest for the leading courtesan, I was certain you’d win without question, yet you showed no interest in competing at all. Only then did I understand how little you cared for such things… When we parted, I meant to tell you how I truly felt, but in the end all I managed were a few simple pleasantries… and yet, during my time in the Eastern Capital, not a day passed that I didn’t think of you…”

As he spoke, his emotions surged, years of pent-up feeling bursting out all at once, and with that final admission, he seemed to throw caution entirely to the wind, reaching out to take her hand. But whatever inexperience Nie Yunzhu might have had running a market stall, she was hardly inexperienced in matters like this — she stepped smoothly aside, frowning. Gu Yanzhen froze in place for a moment. Nie Yunzhu glanced at him, said nothing, brow still furrowed, and after a long moment, finally managed a small smile, bowing slightly with her hands folded.

“Yunzhu… is my surname.”

“Hm?” Gu Yanzhen hesitated, then asked, “You mean… your husband’s family name?”

Yunzhu shook her head. “My father’s surname was Nie. Back when I had fallen into that life, entertaining others with my looks, I never wanted to sell even my own family name along with everything else, and so I only ever went by the single name Yunzhu. At the Jinfeng Pavilion, I never told anyone my surname. But now that I’ve finally redeemed myself and left that life, I can use my full name again at last… Sir, your regard for me back then brought me genuine happiness, and that you still remember it now is something I can only call an honor. So if the young master does happen to remember, someday, that there once was a woman such as myself, I hope it will be as Nie Yunzhu he remembers — not as Yunzhu, the celebrated courtesan of the Jinfeng Pavilion.”

She said all this with a smile from beginning to end — warm, yet composed, carefully maintaining a certain distance throughout. Gu Yanzhen could hardly miss her meaning. “You… you think I only remember you as you were back then, in that life… but…”

“I hold no grudge against you for that. At the time, Yunzhu truly was living that life — performing, entertaining, using my looks to please others. That was simply how things were, and I don’t deny it. You genuinely cared for me then, and I am genuinely grateful for it — which is why I wanted you to know that although I now work out in the open like this, my heart is at peace, far happier than it ever was at the Jinfeng Pavilion. There’s no need for you to worry about me.” She gave a small bow. “I still have matters to attend to — I should be going. Please, go back inside.”

There was still another restaurant expecting a delivery of preserved eggs, and that was foremost in her mind. This market, so hard-won, wasn’t something she could afford to be late for. As for Gu Yanzhen — she had met plenty of talented scholars in her time, men who moved freely through the world of pleasure and considered themselves romantics, well loved by women. Gu Yanzhen had certainly stood out among them, his grace, learning, bearing, and temperament all the sort to win many a woman’s heart — but to her now, he was simply an ordinary man who happened to have left a somewhat deeper impression than most.

She recalled that he’d gone off to the capital for the examinations around the same time she’d redeemed herself; that their paths should cross again now was, admittedly, a little unexpected. But it was only that — a chance encounter, nothing more. She would likely run into many more people in the years ahead; there was nothing especially remarkable about this.

The memories of her days as the leading courtesan of the Jinfeng Pavilion carried, in her own heart, none of the romance or refinement others imagined. Among the scholars and literary men, a poetry gathering or a romantic episode might be praised and admired for years — who had won the favor of some famous courtesan, who had become her chosen companion, or even won her heart so completely that she’d willingly given up her innocence to him — such things were considered a man’s highest, most elegant, most enviable achievement. But to her, it had simply been a series of wretched days, endured one by one, heart trembling, with no visible future ahead.

Coming out of the entertainment bureau, she had faced the anxious prospect of becoming a courtesan; fortunately, she had some skill in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, which had given her a small opening. From there, she had worked hard to present herself well, learning carefully how to attract attention without inviting anything too coarse or base, presenting conversation over poetry and music as something refined and elegant. Even once she’d earned some renown, her heart remained uneasy, always fearing that some day, some powerful, well-connected man would simply decide to take what he wanted — and no reputation as a “celebrated courtesan” or “master artist” could truly protect her from that. Various checks and balances existed, and for that very reason she never dared let her fame grow too great, never wanted to become the leading courtesan, a trophy for men to display their own charm through possessing her…

During her time at the Jinfeng Pavilion, very few women there managed to protect themselves entirely. A woman with nothing else to offer, insisting on preserving her chastity — how could things ever go so smoothly for her? There were those forcibly drugged, bound, beaten and tormented in all manner of ways — no woman held out forever, and few indeed had the courage to actually end their own lives; and even those who tried and failed found that nothing ultimately changed as a result. Even among the top courtesans who sold their art but not their bodies, there would eventually come a day when some powerful figure simply forced himself upon them — and who, in the end, could truly stand up for such a woman?

Most frightening of all was that even the women who resisted most fiercely at first would, before long, gradually adapt, gradually grow numb, gradually begin speaking with the men who came to them, gradually learn to live this life, gradually begin gathering with other women under the eaves to trade stories about the men they’d encountered… During that time, she had lived every day in fear that this would become her own fate as well. Or else, like the rare few, she might take her own life, or lose her mind entirely — and once a woman had no further value, she would simply be thrown out of the Jinfeng Pavilion, reduced to a beggar woman running the streets half-clothed, until winter finally came and she became nothing more than a rotting corpse.

Gu Yanzhen, bringing up these old memories, might genuinely be feeling nostalgic, but there was nothing in them she herself felt any nostalgia for — if anything, they left her faintly unsettled. Yet of course, none of this was truly his fault. As Liheng had once said, having someone who thought of her fondly was, in the end, still a good thing. His feelings were sincere and well-meaning, and so she owed him a smile in return, a word of thanks for his kindness, and some effort to help him understand. Of course, he likely didn’t fully grasp what she meant by having “found her place” — he probably simply assumed she’d married.

All the way to the Cuiping Pavilion to make her delivery, Gu Yanzhen kept watching from across the street, which left her feeling a little troubled, though there was nothing to be done about it now, nothing worth saying. “In the Eastern Capital… I thought of you every single day…” What he thought of, what men like him thought of, was likely always that same smiling, zither-playing, singing woman — or the one dancing to please others amid someone else’s music. It wasn’t their fault, not really, and she couldn’t bring herself to be angry about it — but for now, she could only feel it as a kind of quiet burden.

Over the past several years, there had been the occasional evening spent singing and playing purely for her own enjoyment, but she had genuinely resolved that from now on, she would never again use such arts and smiles to please others. As for Gu Yanzhen — even if he brought all this up, what did it really matter? If she no longer played the zither, no longer sang, no longer danced, no longer joined in reciting romantic poetry or praising some scholar’s brilliant talent, then what would there really be left to talk about, sitting together like this? And yet, thinking this over, she couldn’t help but think of one particular exception…

Only now, looking back, did she realize — as firmly as she’d once made that decision, when Liheng had asked about music before the New Year, she hadn’t thought of any of this at all, answering without a moment’s hesitation with that joke about being “several stories tall.” Later, playing the zither and setting tunes to melody, listening to him hum “Rain Over the Monastery” or “Farewell at the Pavilion” several times over, laughing and talking with him — she’d actually found herself wishing she could show him more of what she was capable of. She wanted to tell him: my other songs are even better, other pieces might sound far lovelier than these strange little tunes — and when he’d casually mentioned once that he didn’t much care for monotonous melodies, she’d felt a small flash of irritation, a tiny urge to show off, wanting to say: “If I were the one singing it, it wouldn’t sound anything like that.”

She understood, in her heart, that just as he had never deliberately performed the role of a talented scholar in front of her, she too had never displayed her old skills before him — but that wasn’t out of any lingering shadow from the past. It was simply that the subject had never truly come up. If he genuinely wanted to hear her perform, she would gladly use those very same skills to please him, and it wouldn’t feel anything like it had at the Jinfeng Pavilion at all.

Recalling what Hutao had said to her a few days earlier, she thought this over. Perhaps this feeling, whatever it was, could no longer be undone…

Thinking all this, she hugged her basket to herself and smiled faintly, walking back along the road to the stall at the intersection. Hutao came hurrying over, assuming she was simply pleased about the preserved eggs.

“Miss, we’ll be able to sell so many today, won’t we?”

“Yes, the thirty-egg target should be no problem at all.” Except… this whole thing didn’t really seem to have anything to do with Liheng after all, since Liheng didn’t usually associate with scholars like these… she found herself puzzling over it, glancing around, but Gu Yanzhen no longer seemed to be following…

“Miss, what are you looking at?”

“Ha.” She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing at all…”

…

Meanwhile, Gu Yanzhen returned to the restaurant upstairs and found Shen Miao, his expression complicated.

“Zishan, what exactly is the relationship between Dexin and that preserved-egg stall — do you… know anything about it?”