It had rained again the previous night.
The rain was not heavy. It began sometime after midnight and pattered against the roof tiles throughout the night.
Ye Xian stood by the study window, gazing outside.
Although he was supposedly taking a break these days, the truth was that he had merely exchanged the duties of the Censorate for the household affairs of the marquis residence.
This year’s autumn grain harvest from the estate farms needed to be reviewed. The accounts of several shops required auditing. His mother’s cough had worsened somewhat with the arrival of autumn, and the newly prescribed medicine from the Imperial Medical Bureau had to be personally supervised during preparation.
One matter after another.
In some ways, they were even more tedious than investigating cases.
Yet they were fundamentally different.
In the past, a taut string had always been stretched tight within his heart. Every step he took had felt like walking along the edge of a blade.
Now that string had loosened.
He found himself unaccustomed to it.
The heavy burdens that had pressed against his chest for so long had suddenly been removed. The empty space left behind felt strangely unreal.
Outside the window, a bird chirped twice.
Two sparrows perched upon a pomegranate branch, shaking rainwater from their wings and making the branch tremble. The immature green pomegranates looked even brighter after being washed clean by a night’s rain.
When Xu Jingting pushed open the door, this was the scene he saw.
Ye Xian stood by the window with a teacup in hand, staring absentmindedly at the pomegranate tree outside.
The expression on his face was neither his usual distant coldness nor the sharp intensity he displayed while handling cases.
Instead, it was a rare expression of emptiness, as though he were thinking about absolutely nothing.
“Well now, what is our Heir Apparent looking at?” Xu Jingting asked as he sprawled into an armchair, tossing his fan onto the tea table before pouring himself a cup of tea.
Ye Xian withdrew his gaze and returned to his desk.
“What are you doing here?”
“Listen to that. Can’t I visit without a reason?” Xu Jingting grinned and took a sip of tea. Then his expression grew more serious.
“I actually came to tell you something. Zhao Heng officially moved out of the main courtyard of the Northern Pacifying Marquis Mansion today. That concubine-born son of his, Zhao Yu, has taken over the Heir Apparent’s seal. He made an appearance at the Ministry of War yesterday. He seems quite proper and speaks politely. Completely different from his brother.”
“Zhao Yu understands people far better than his elder brother ever did,” Ye Xian said calmly, lightly tapping the edge of the desk with a finger.
“Although Zhao Heng lost his actual position, he still retains his title. Being demoted one rank only lowered him from marquis to count. As for the title of Northern Pacifying Count…” Xu Jingting chuckled. “That depends on whether he wants to accept it.”
“He does,” Xu Jingting answered confidently. “And he sent congratulatory gifts to the Gu Residence. A pair of celadon vases and a pair of jade ruyi scepters. Everything was done according to proper etiquette.”
“That’s also his way of sending you a message. The Zhao family has changed hands. They hope the past can be wiped clean.”
Ye Xian merely hummed in acknowledgment and said nothing more.
But Xu Jingting noticed the slight movement of his lips as he raised his teacup, as though he were savoring the outcome.
Ye Xian had spent nearly half a year arranging this game of chess.
When he finally placed the last piece, he had not uprooted the Zhao family entirely.
Instead, he had deliberately left them a door.
Zhao Yu had stepped through that door, delivering both congratulations and the Zhao family’s stance.
It was not a bad result.
“Oh, right.” Xu Jingting suddenly changed his tone, a teasing smile appearing on his lips. “I heard that after the imperial betrothal decree was issued, Aunt Gao was so happy that she sent gifts to the Gu Residence for three days straight. Is your family planning to move the entire marquis residence over there?”
Ye Xian did not answer.
He simply set down his teacup.
Sensing the warning, Xu Jingting wisely refrained from pressing further.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair and looked at the friend he had known since childhood with the gaze of someone who had seen it all before.
He had known Ye Xian for more than ten years.
“You’ve changed quite a bit,” Xu Jingting suddenly said, genuine emotion coloring his voice.
“How have I changed?”
“I can’t quite explain it. It just feels like that edge you used to have—that attitude where nothing mattered and nobody was worth your attention—has softened somewhat.”
Another breeze stirred outside, rustling the leaves of the potted bamboo.
After a long pause, Ye Xian lifted the now-lukewarm Longjing tea and took a sip.
“A person can’t spend an entire lifetime standing on the edge of a blade.”
His voice was calm.
“In the past, there wasn’t much I cared about. It was always one case after another.”
“Now that the case is over, I had to find something else.”
“Did you find it?”
“I did.”
The two words were spoken softly.
Yet they landed with unwavering certainty.
The air carried the faint bitterness of bamboo leaves after rain, mingling with the subtle fragrance of pine-soot ink from the desk.
The autumn sunlight after the rainfall seemed especially bright. It streamed through the lattice window and fell upon Ye Xian’s shoulders, making the cloud patterns woven into his moon-white Daoist robe appear almost alive.
Xu Jingting said nothing further.
He merely closed his fan, picked up his teacup, and silently shared the tea with Ye Xian.
Some things only needed to be said once.
The fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month.
Mid-Autumn Festival.
According to the customs of the capital, people spent Mid-Autumn night worshipping the moon, sharing reunion dinners, and setting river lanterns afloat.
The Gu Residence was unusually lively this year.
The entire family was together.
Ye Xian had returned from the academy, and Jinzhao did not need to attend any banquet at the marquis residence.
A family feast was laid out in the main courtyard.
Madam Gu’s health had improved somewhat. Seated among her children, she wore a rare expression of contentment.
She reminisced about Jinzhao’s childhood days in the old West City residence, recalling how she used to climb jujube trees. Her stories made everyone at the table laugh.
Ye Xian had spent several months at the academy.
His complexion had darkened from the sun, but he had also grown noticeably taller.
Seated beside his elder sister, he peeled crabs for her while chattering nonstop about amusing events from the academy.
After dinner, Gu Jinzhao wandered alone into the rear courtyard.
The moonlight was beautiful.
Its clear silver glow cast shifting shadows across the pomegranate tree in the yard.
Several chrysanthemums had bloomed near the wall, their golden petals shining even more brilliantly beneath the moonlight.
She withdrew a brocade box from her sleeve.
It was the box Zhang He had secretly given her on the day the imperial decree arrived.
Inside was the white jade begonia hairpin.
She turned it slowly in her hand.
The carved begonia blossom glowed faintly beneath the moonlight, possessing the same luster as the jade pendant hanging from Ye Xian’s waist.
“Standing alone in the wind like this. Aren’t you afraid of catching a chill?”
She turned around.
At some point, Ye Xian had appeared outside the moon gate.
Today he wore a black gauze Daoist robe patterned with subtle floral designs, layered beneath a plain outer robe of the same color.
His hair was impeccably arranged and secured with the bamboo-joint jade hairpin.
Moonlight illuminated one side of his face, sharply defining its contours, while the other half remained hidden in shadow.
“A-Xian, why are you here?” Gu Jinzhao asked in surprise.
Every household was having a reunion dinner tonight.
Instead of accompanying Lady Gao at the marquis residence, he had somehow appeared in the rear courtyard of the Gu Residence.
“My father—”
“Lord Gu knows.”
Ye Xian walked closer and stopped three feet away.
The distance was just right.
Close enough to see every expression on her face.
Far enough that the maids beneath the corridor would not consider it improper.
After a brief pause, he added,
“I left after finishing dinner with Mother. I came through the back alley. No one saw me.”
“Then how did you get in?”
“I climbed the wall.”
Gu Jinzhao froze.
Then she lifted the brocade box to cover her mouth.
Her shoulders trembled despite her efforts to control them.
The dignified Heir Apparent of the Changxing Marquis Residence had climbed over someone else’s wall on Mid-Autumn night?
“What are you laughing at?” Ye Xian asked, turning his face away.
The tips of his ears had turned faintly red.
“I’m not laughing.”
Gu Jinzhao lowered the box and tried very hard to suppress the corners of her lips.
She attempted to slip the box back into her sleeve.
Unfortunately, she moved too slowly.
He had already seen it.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
Ye Xian reached out and gently took the box from her.
Opening it, he revealed the white jade begonia hairpin lying quietly inside.
Moonlight slid along the smooth jade surface and gathered into a tiny pool of silver radiance at the center of the flower.
He lowered his eyes to examine it before lifting his gaze to her hair.
“Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“I haven’t found the right occasion yet.”
Gu Jinzhao lowered her eyes.
Her fingers unconsciously turned the white jade bracelet around her wrist.
Ye Xian did not return the box.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Raising one hand, he carefully inserted the jade hairpin into her coiffure.
His movements were exceedingly slow.
So slow that it seemed as though he feared the tip of the pin might brush somewhere it should not.
When his hand withdrew from her hair, his little finger accidentally grazed the edge of her ear.
It was cool.
Just as cool as the fingertips that had once slipped pine-nut candy into her mouth during a summer long ago.
Ye Xian looked away.
His gaze drifted toward the full moon hanging above the courtyard wall like a silver platter.
Silence settled over the courtyard.
Crickets chirped intermittently from the grass near the wall.
One long call.
One short call.
Then silence again.
“Ye Xian.”
“Hm?”
“Happy Mid-Autumn Festival.”
Ye Xian turned to look at her.
This was the first time she had spoken his name on a Mid-Autumn night.
Ye Xian.
The two syllables left her lips and were carried to him by the night breeze.
They felt like a soft feather drifting down upon an old scar hidden somewhere in his heart.
Beyond the courtyard wall came the sound of the night watchman’s clapper.
Tok.
Tok.
Tok.
The signal announced the beginning of the Hour of Hai.
The river lanterns floating along the moat drifted farther and farther away before gradually disappearing into the darkness.
The scattered points of fire became flecks of gold upon the water’s surface, only to be quietly swallowed by the capital’s night breeze.