I’ve missed you so much. Yue Ming hugged her back tightly, her voice brimming with joy.
Breathing in the sweet, familiar scent of her dearest friend, Feng Yi took a deep breath, like someone nuzzling a contented cat. Girls really are the loveliest creatures.
Soft and pliant as she was, Yi Yi, Yue Ming rubbed the back of her head with deep satisfaction.
The two stayed locked in an affectionate embrace for quite some time before finally letting go. It was a good thing Jiang Xingzhou and Xiao Chengyu were nowhere in sight; otherwise, they would surely turn the waters of Silver and Gold Lake into a lake of vinegar.
The beginning of Feng Yi and Yue Ming’s friendship was rather absurd, and deeply intertwined with Jiang Xingzhou.
Back then, in order to complete that damned system task and return to the modern world, Feng Yi had finally decided: to match up the original female lead Yue Ming with the second male lead, Jiang Xingzhou. Surely that would count as a “happy ending,” wouldn’t it? As for the original male lead, Xiao Chengyu? He could go to hell for all she cared—she had no time to worry about him. They were all just fictional characters anyway.
This world was terrible. No internet, no flush toilets, no sanitary pads, and even the undergarments were cut in such a way that they offered no proper support. Worst of all, there was no freedom.
She was constantly haunted by an uncanny feeling: it was as if a gaze was piercing through her every moment, following her like a shadow—cold, sticky, and suffocating, just like a snake coiled and waiting in the dark.
She was scared. She wanted to go home.
She first met Yue Ming at a welcome banquet held to honor Duke Ningguo and his daughter upon their return to the capital. The Qin clan had brought her along, hoping to find an opportunity for her to spend time alone with Jiang Xingzhou.
Before the feast had even begun, Feng Yi made an excuse to slip out to the waterside pavilion for some fresh air. There she heard a group of finely dressed young ladies and gentlemen gathered together, passing judgment on their host right in the middle of the banquet. She wondered where they got such arrogance.
One voice said:
“I’ve heard that Miss Yue is highly skilled in martial arts. I suppose she must look… broad-shouldered and sturdy, almost like a man?”
“With all that harsh wind and sand in the northwest, her skin must be as rough as tree bark. How could she ever look like a proper young lady?”
From another corner came more remarks:
“Lu Jiu, isn’t your family currently arranging a marriage for you? It sounds like Miss Yue would be perfect for you—she’d surely keep your household safe and sound.”
The young man named Lu Jiu scoffed in disgust. “Nonsense! I want a gentle, refined lady for a wife, not some brute who knows nothing but swinging swords and spears. If you like her so much, Ma Er, you marry her yourself!”
“I wouldn’t dare. She’s spent all her time living among soldiers. Who knows how many men she’s shared a bed with? I’d find her dirty.”
Damn it. Spreading such filthy rumors.
Feng Yi’s stomach churned in disgust as she listened. She held back her anger for as long as she could, but finally could not restrain herself. She smoothed down her robes, put on a perfectly measured smile tinged with innocence, and glided gracefully over to join their gossip.
She approached the two young ladies first.
“Ladies,” she said in a sweet, clear voice, “have you actually met Miss Yue in person?”
“No, we haven’t,” they shook their heads.
Feng Yi’s smile grew even sweeter. “Then it seems you two care quite deeply about her. Have you even dreamed of her? How else would you know what she looks like—down to the very texture of her skin?”
The two women were left speechless, their faces flushing red then turning pale. Where had this rude girl come from? Couldn’t she speak properly? How could they respond now? Admit they were just repeating hearsay and making malicious assumptions? They could not. So they glared at her in annoyance, grabbed their companions, and hurried away.
Next, Feng Yi turned to the two young gentlemen.
Putting on an expression of pure respect and admiration, she bowed politely. “Good day, sirs. Observing your distinguished bearing, I can only assume you are men of great learning and virtue. Just the other day, I was reading The Book of Rites and came across a passage I could not understand. Might I trouble you to enlighten me?”
“Speak, miss,” replied Lu Jiu and Ma Er. Flattered by the attention of such a beautiful young woman, they puffed out their chests and nodded in a condescending manner.
“Could you tell me what it means to ‘speak without slander, and laugh without mockery’?”
The smug arrogance on their faces instantly froze, turning bright red. Their lips moved, but not a single word could come out.
Feng Yi acted as if she noticed nothing of their embarrassment and continued with a bright smile. “By the way, I presume you two have already achieved great academic success and earned high honors. Surely you have rendered outstanding service to our Great Zhou? Otherwise, how dare you speak so disparagingly of a female general praised personally by the Emperor himself, who at only fifteen years old has already won several battles?”
“How dare you speak to us like this!” Lu Jiu flushed with rage and pointed a finger at her. “Which family are you from? Where are your manners? I will speak to your elders about this!”
“Oh?”
Yue Ming stepped into view, clad in a robe of silver and crimson with tight sleeves—striking, bold, and radiating confidence. Her voice rang clear and crisp, like jade striking stone, yet sharp with undisguised coldness. “Are you gentlemen planning to say something to the honored guest of the Duke of Ningguo’s household?”
Just as her words fell, another voice, calm and clear, sounded from nearby.
“She belongs to me.”
Jiang Xingzhou strode over to Feng Yi’s side. With a snap, he closed the folding fan in his hand and pressed it lightly but firmly against Lu Jiu’s impolite, pointing finger.
A faint, usual smile lingered on his lips, but his phoenix-like eyes were as cold and deep as a still pool. “You two have something to say? Do speak up—I am listening closely.”
From that day on, Feng Yi and Yue Ming felt as though they had wasted years before meeting each other, and quickly became the closest of friends.
And thus began Feng Yi’s new role—one that filled her with constant guilt and conflict. To hell with it, she was simply being a matchmaker.
But being a matchmaker turned out to be no easy task. Jiang Xingzhou’s movements were unpredictable; he appeared and vanished like a ghost. Trying to track his schedule quickly drained the little money she had in her already modest purse.
Her original parents were neither capable nor reliable and had left her no private savings at all. The Qin clan gave her a monthly allowance that barely covered fruit and pastries; she had to save up just to buy rouge and face powder. But since she was living as a guest in someone else’s home, she could not very well ask for more.
With her plan on the verge of collapse due to lack of funds, Feng Yi gritted her teeth, rolled up her sleeves, and returned to what she knew best: writing stories—or as they were called in this era, ballad tales.
“I’m so sorry, Yi Yi,” Yue Ming said with a look of regret, lifting the pot to pour sweet fruit wine into Feng Yi’s cup. “If you hadn’t sent me the final chapters of Rescuing the Spring Breeze, he would never have found you.”
“None of this is your fault,” Feng Yi replied, picking up her glass and leaning lazily against Yue Ming’s shoulder.
The sun was beginning to set, painting the lake in streaks of golden light. The rippling waves shimmered like scattered silver coins, a breathtaking sight. It was no wonder it was called Silver and Gold Lake—the name fit perfectly.
She tilted her head back and drank the wine. “As for me and him… it seems we are bound by a curse that cannot be broken. Even if it had not been for Rescuing the Spring Breeze, we would have crossed paths again sooner or later.”
She refilled both their cups and continued, “Actually, I should be the one apologizing to you. Back then, I was such a fool—thinking of matching you up with that man.”
Yue Ming burst into hearty laughter, completely unbothered. “Haha! Could you really not see even then that he was far more interested in you?”
“Not at all,” Feng Yi shook her head and laughed softly. Back then, all she cared about was getting home, and she trusted the original story completely. Who could have guessed that the plot would shift so drastically even its own creator could no longer recognize it? And that the man would turn his sights straight onto her.
“Are you still writing stories? I’ve been waiting for new ones for years,” Yue Ming asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.
Feng Yi’s tales were nothing like the usual fare in the market—romances between scholars and maidens, or supernatural encounters with fox spirits and ghosts. Her language was simple but never vulgar, her plots full of twists and turns, and her emotions raw and powerful. Most importantly, hidden between the lines were ideas that defied convention—thoughts about freedom, equality, justice, and respect. Even in her more intimate stories, there was a core of meaning that kept readers captivated and craving more.
“I still write,” Feng Yi shifted lazily to face the other way, resting her elbow on the table and her cheek in her hand as she looked at Yue Ming. “But I also have other plans in mind. I’ve decided to open my own publishing house. Would you like to join me?”
Once she had set her heart on this, she had no intention of giving up. If Jiang Xingzhou supported her, she would expand the business boldly; if he did not, she would grow it slowly and steadily.
After nearly a month of handing over his official duties, Jiang Xingzhou did not leave the government office until late afternoon.
The clouds on the horizon burned like fire. He rolled his stiff neck and was about to stretch his shoulders when the movement pulled at his wound. He froze for a split second, but did not make a sound.
What was the point of groaning in pain when the woman who cared for him was not there to hear it?
He walked toward the waiting carriage, only to see Imperial Physician Zhou hurrying toward him from the other end of the official lane, his medicine box in hand and breathing heavily.
“Lord Jiang, wait a moment.”
The physician stopped in front of him, clutching his chest to catch his breath.
“Is something the matter, Physician Zhou?” Jiang Xingzhou frowned, his first thought that Feng Yi might be unwell—but then he realized that if that were the case, the physician would have mentioned it during yesterday’s examination.
“Lord Jiang… do you know…” Zhou lowered his voice, looking around cautiously, “that Miss Feng fell gravely ill three years ago?”
Afraid of being overheard, he used the phrase “gravely ill” as a euphemism.
Jiang Xingzhou assumed he was referring to the time she had knelt in prayer at Ziyun Temple and exhausted her vitality. A wave of warmth mixed with sharp, bitter pain rose in his chest. “Yes… I know.”
“Then I am relieved to hear it.”
“Did it leave any lasting effects?” Jiang Xingzhou pressed. Otherwise, why would the physician stop him here?
“None at all,” Zhou shook his head. “The doctor who treated her was exceptionally skilled. She recovered fully, and her health was completely restored.”
Jiang Xingzhou nodded silently. It seemed He Yun’s medical skills were indeed as excellent as claimed. But if that was the case, why had Yi Yi needed to take herbal medicine for several days just for a slight upset stomach?
Before he could think further, the physician spoke again. “And the irregular menstruation she mentioned yesterday? That was just a story she made up. You need not worry.”
Jiang Xingzhou could not help but smile, his eyes softening with amusement and affectionate exasperation. So that was it—she had been deliberately teasing him that day.
Just wait. Once the scrapes on her legs healed completely, he would make sure to collect his dues with interest.
“Thank you for telling me, Physician Zhou.”
By the time Jiang Xingzhou arrived at Silver and Gold Lake, dusk had fallen and lanterns were beginning to light up the shore. The lake reflected the slender crescent moon, and the glow of stars mingled with the flickering lights, creating a breathtakingly beautiful scene.
The people of Great Zhou enjoyed considerable freedom, and the curfew was late. The eastern district was usually bustling with crowds and carriages until late into the night. But recently, due to the unrest surrounding the Crown Prince, the streets were under tighter security, and the lakeside felt quieter than usual.
He stepped out of the carriage, having changed out of his purple official robes into a loose gown of pale white embroidered with dark bamboo patterns, fastened with a jade sash. It made him look tall and slender, refined and elegant, yet with a relaxed, effortless charm.
He had only taken a few steps toward the dock of the House by Reflection Lake when another carriage pulled up. The man who stepped out was none other than Prince Rui, Xiao Chengyu.
He wore a dark black robe with wide sleeves and subtle patterns woven into the fabric. He did not wear a formal crown, but simply tied half his hair back with a single white jade hairpin, letting the rest fall loosely over his shoulders. His skin was pale, his lips soft, and he had an air of otherworldly detachment, as if untouched by worldly concerns.
“I greet Your Highness, Prince Rui,” Jiang Xingzhou bowed, observing proper etiquette.
“At ease,” Xiao Chengyu replied, standing beside him with his hands folded inside his sleeves. “Lin Yuan, why so formal today?”
“Courtesy should never be neglected,” Jiang Xingzhou answered smoothly.
“Is it courtesy,” Xiao Chengyu raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “or are you still angry with me?”
“I would not dare.”
But of course he was angry. Feng Yi had disappeared without a trace from the grounds of the Temple of State—an area that had been under Xiao Chengyu’s control for years. Jiang Xingzhou found it impossible to believe she could have escaped without his help.
The two men boarded a waiting small boat. Instead of using the boatman provided by the inn, they had their own guards row them toward the large pleasure barge named Wangshu—Shining Moonlight—anchored in the center of the lake.
“You can be angry with me, but not with Xihe,” Xiao Chengyu said once they were on board, the distant coldness in his manner fading as he relaxed. “She was only looking out for your Feng Yi.”
Xihe was Yue Ming’s courtesy name. Though few women in this era were granted such a name, it was not unheard of, and Yue Ming was one of them.
Jiang Xingzhou let out a low huff. When they were younger, he had trained alongside Xiao Chengyu and Yue Ming in the Yue family army, and the three had been close friends.
“Then when you two saw how I was falling apart back then, did either of you ever feel… even a little sorry for me?”
“To be honest,” Xiao Chengyu said, gazing toward the lights of the barge ahead, “you brought it all on yourself.”
Jiang Xingzhou fell silent.
“Though,” Xiao Chengyu added, “even if you had not found her this year, I would have told you she was still alive eventually. Even if I did not know exactly where she was.”
“Why?” Jiang Xingzhou asked in surprise.
“To continue the Jiang family line, of course,” Xiao Chengyu joked half-heartedly. “I’ve realized now—you will never settle for anyone but her. I did not want to see you end up alone. Besides, after three years, I thought you would finally understand why she left you.”
He had tried to reason with Jiang Xingzhou back then, but his friend had stubbornly insisted that Feng Yi loved him so deeply she could never leave his side.
Jiang Xingzhou said nothing, staring at the fragmented reflections of lights and stars dancing across the water.
Before long, the boat pulled up alongside the barge. From inside, the voices of Feng Yi and Yue Ming drifted out, clearly carrying the weight of wine.
“Jiang Xingzhou, that scoundrel—he never keeps his word!”
Jiang Xingzhou pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, feeling a surge of anger that twisted into a bitter smile. Good. Very good. He had just been reflecting on his actions on the boat, only to hear her cursing him like this. Ungrateful little thing.
Xiao Chengyu gave him a look of silent amusement. But his satisfaction did not last long.
“Men are all worthless creatures,” Yue Ming’s voice rose in anger. “That bastard Xiao Chengyu—he actually brought that so-called ‘savior’ of his into our household…”
Standing on the deck, one man labeled a scoundrel and the other a bastard exchanged glances.
“That woman framed me, and he still chose not to believe me,” Yue Ming continued. Overcome by wine and emotion, her defenses crumbled, and she began to sob.
“Yue Liang, don’t cry… I believe you. I will always stand on your side,” Feng Yi slurred, pulling Yue Ming’s head into her arms to comfort her.
Xiao Chengyu’s heart ached instantly. Why was she crying? Of course he knew that woman was scheming—that was exactly why he had brought her into the house, to turn her own plans against her. He had never expected it would only make his wife feel betrayed.
He took a step forward to enter the cabin, but Jiang Xingzhou grabbed his arm. “Wait—let’s listen a little longer.”
“Please don’t cry, Yue Liang…” Feng Yi’s voice was thick with tears as well.
A warm tear fell onto Yue Ming’s cheek. She lifted her head, her vision blurry with drink. “Yi Yi… are you crying too?”
Now it was Jiang Xingzhou’s turn to panic, and he made to rush inside—only to be held firmly back by Xiao Chengyu.
“I’m just sad…” Feng Yi wiped her face roughly. “He promised… he promised to give me freedom and happiness. And I was foolish enough to believe him again.”
A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped her. “I never thought… I would be tricked all over again. But perhaps it’s for the best. It serves as a warning. From now on… I will never trust him again. Never.”
These words pierced Jiang Xingzhou’s heart like a thousand needles. Before he could even process the pain, another sentence struck him like thunder.
“Yue Liang… I miss home. I want to go home.”