On the tenth day of the month, not only was the school closed for a holiday, but government officials also had their day of rest. As was his custom, Wen Qing made the trip to Ruyi Town.
The Ruyi Tavern at the entrance of the town had only three private rooms, all located on the second floor. Though called private rooms, they were nothing more than separate spaces partitioned off by half-height bamboo screens.
The townsfolk usually gathered in the main hall on the ground floor to drink and socialize, rarely venturing into the private rooms. Only Wen Qing and Feng Yi would choose the innermost room, seeking quiet for conversation while still being visible to avoid any improper rumors.
“Qingyang, my transfer order arrived yesterday,” Wen Qing, always composed, could not hide his excitement. “I have been appointed Prefect of Shaodong, a position of the fifth rank.”
“Wonderful news! That calls for a toast,” Feng Yi said, equally delighted as she raised her cup. “Congratulations, Yanqing.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Wen Qing drained his cup in one go, then refilled both their glasses. “To be honest, would you consider coming with me to Shaodong?”
In the most secluded private room between theirs, a man dressed in pale white silk tightened his grip around his wine cup.
At the question, Feng Yi paused her chopsticks mid-air, then smiled faintly. What was going on today? One after another, they were all asking if she wanted to go with them.
Seeing her hesitate, Wen Qing quickly explained, “Do not misunderstand. Over the years, at least half of my achievements here in Xishan are thanks to you, Qingyang. If your identity were not an obstacle, I would have hired you as my chief advisor long ago.”
“You give me far too much credit, Yanqing,” Feng Yi replied, continuing to pick at her food. “Xishan has transformed completely from what it was three years ago, and the people live and work in peace and contentment. That is all the result of your tireless dedication, hard work, and devotion to the people. How much have I truly helped you? If anything, I have only brought you more trouble.”
“You are being far too modest,” Wen Qing laughed. “Let us set aside the great favor you did for me during the imperial examinations three years ago. Think of these past three years: the wine from Baili Town, the honey from Honghua Town, the tung oil here in Ruyi, and the method of building terraced fields—every single one of those came from your wisdom and effort.”
“Qingyang, you are not just my benefactor, but a benefactor to all of Xishan, and to the entire southwest of the Great Zhou. Because of those terraced fields, the people have harvested far more grain, and countless lives have been saved from starvation.”
He raised his cup solemnly. “I drink to you, on behalf of the people.”
Feng Yi waved her hand with a smile. “I merely stood on the shoulders of those who came before me and repeated what they had already discovered. I dare not claim such great merit.”
In the next room, the man’s heart shook. So it was her work that had earned Wen Qing his rapid promotion through four ranks and his outstanding reputation. So she truly possessed such ability to bring relief and prosperity to others.
“Yet not everyone who stands on the shoulders of giants is willing to share what they have learned so freely with the world,” came the voice from the other side of the screen.
“Very well,” Feng Yi leaned back casually, relaxed and with a touch of pride. “Since you put it that way, I shall accept it. After all, I am just that… great.”
Pfft— Wen Qing nearly spat out his wine, laughing as he playfully pointed at her. “You really are something.”
Behind the bamboo screen, Jiang Xingzhou also smiled. In his mind, he could clearly picture her bright, shining eyes and her proud little expression, as if a fluffy tail were wagging behind her.
But the smile never reached his eyes, freezing instantly and fading away. How long had it been since she had shown such soft, natural playfulness in front of him? Now she was so open and lively with another man.
He drained his cup in one gulp, but the fiery liquid could not quench the rising anger burning in his chest.
Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to kill surged within him—to kill Wen Qing.
“So, will you come to Shaodong?” Wen Qing asked with a grin. “I am counting on someone as… great as you to help me achieve even more success.”
“I will not,” Feng Yi shook her head gently. “I wish to stay here. The children of this town still need me. Yanqing, thank you for your protection and support these past three years. From now on, I want to walk my own path.”
Wen Qing did not press her further, only sighing with regret. “It is a pity you were born into the wrong circumstances… otherwise, you would surely stand among the most respected in the imperial court.”
Feng Yi smiled faintly. “The greater pity is that this world does not allow us to rise as we deserve.”
“You are right. It is the world that is wrong, not you,” Wen Qing said, his words including not only Feng Yi, but also He Yun, and… A’Rui.
He raised his cup again. “Then I wish you, Teacher Feng, to have students everywhere and your teachings to flourish.”
Feng Yi raised hers in return. “And I wish you, Magistrate Wen, a bright future and a long, successful career.”
Above the horizon hung the pale crescent moon, and in the distance nightingales sang softly—a silence that held both peace and hidden turmoil.
Seeing her gaze drift absently toward the moon once more, Wen Qing sighed softly. “Are you thinking of the Marquis of Jing’an?”
Feng Yi returned to herself and gave a bitter smile. “I can never hide anything from you.”
“Do you still love him?”
The question struck her straight to the heart—and also reached Jiang Xingzhou, only separated by a thin screen. He leaned forward, ears straining to catch every word, his heart beating wildly out of control.
The air fell silent for a long moment. Finally, her voice came, slightly thick with emotion: “…I do not know.”
Did not know? How could it be that she did not know?
Whether it was love, resentment, or even hatred—Jiang Xingzhou could accept it, for at least those feelings would mean he was etched deeply in her heart. But “I do not know”? Did that mean she intended to let him go completely, to erase him from her thoughts entirely?
The realization left him in a panic, followed by a sharp, hollow pain as if his heart had been torn out. It felt just like the day three years ago when he had suddenly received the news of her death—the agony had nearly killed him.
His hands, which remained steady as a rock whether holding a sword or a brush, trembled so badly now that he could not even hold his cup steady. Wine spilled across his robes, leaving a dark stain spreading through the fabric.
Feng Yi raised both hands to cover her eyes and tilted her head back. “Forgive me, I have lost my composure.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” Wen Qing asked, handing her a handkerchief.
“I do not know where to begin,” she said, wiping away her tears. “Though it may spoil the mood, Yanqing, tonight I would like to drink until I am drunk.”
“Then I shall drink with you.”
Seeing her so vulnerable stirred his deep sympathy. Wen Qing could not help but recall the first time he had met her—like encountering a warm ray of sunlight in the dead of winter.
It was the Lantern Festival in the twenty-eighth year of the Yongkang reign.
He had only just arrived in the capital to prepare for the imperial examinations when other candidates from his inn dragged him out to see the lantern displays. Amid the crowds, a thief had stolen his purse, taking every coin he possessed. It was money that his family had scraped together with great effort, plus the earnings from countless handkerchiefs embroidered by his fiancée, A’Rui.
In that moment, it felt as if the heavy snow falling all around had filled his mind—leaving only coldness and emptiness. He knew the money could not be recovered. Without it, he would not survive until the examinations, and he would never have the face to return home to his parents and A’Rui.
Suddenly, he felt as if he had been bumped from behind, and he collapsed straight into the snow, his eyes empty and lifeless.
“Damn it, did I just knock someone over?” A clear, bright voice rang out.
His vision slowly focused. A pretty young woman with a rabbit mask perched on top of her head knelt before him, waving her fingers gently in front of his face. “Are you all right? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“I am fine, thank you, Miss,” he replied weakly. “Please, do not trouble yourself.” He needed time to calm down and think of a way out of this disaster.
“You have run into some trouble, haven’t you?” Perhaps sensing his despair, she did not leave. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
Perhaps because her smile was so warm and reassuring, he found himself speaking of his desperate situation.
When he finished, she reached for her purse and held it out completely, then quickly pulled it back, taking only the banknotes inside. “There is a jealous man waiting for me at home, so I cannot give you the purse itself. But take this money, and study well for your examinations.”
“Miss, I cannot accept this…”
“Mianmian—” A voice calling anxiously came from the distance.
She called back in response, then turned to him. “Keep it. Consider it compensation for bumping into you. I must go now. I wish you the highest honors in the exams.”
With that, she adjusted her mask and stood up.
“Miss, how shall I repay you?” he called out urgently.
“Hmm…” She turned back and smiled brightly. “Then be a good man, and become a good official.”
She then ran lightly toward a finely dressed young man waiting not far away. They took each other’s hands and walked together into the glowing sea of lanterns.
At that time, he had believed she would marry that gentleman and live a happy, prosperous life—just as he hoped to do with A’Rui.
He never imagined how fate could twist things, just as it had twisted his own life with A’Rui.
Every time Feng Yi raised her cup, Jiang Xingzhou followed suit and drank. By the time she began to feel the effects of the wine, he remained completely sober, listening intently to every word spoken.
“What are your plans for the future?” Wen Qing asked.
“I will help He Yun raise Yangyang, and continue teaching the children in the school. If possible, I also want to write stories again.”
Jiang Xingzhou frowned sharply. Did she intend to continue writing those steamy, romantic tales?
“You should certainly start again,” Wen Qing said with a smile. “In the past, your works such as The Way of the Wanderer, Notes on Solving Injustice, and Stories from the Alley were wildly popular across the entire Great Zhou. Many have tried to copy your style since, but none have ever quite captured the same spirit. You have no idea how many readers have been waiting for you to return.”
Jiang Xingzhou relaxed his brow slightly, remembering that she wrote more than just passionate romances.
Feng Yi laughed softly. After faking her own death, she had naturally had to withdraw from public view. Jiang Xingzhou knew her writing style too well; even if she changed her pen name, he would recognize it instantly. She even suspected that the reason he had found her and married Yue Ming had something to do with the time she sent Yue Ming the ending of an unfinished novel as a wedding gift. To avoid being traced, she had gone to a neighboring county, found a reputable scholar to copy the manuscript, and posted it from there—but something had gone wrong anyway.
She had guessed correctly, though not for the reason she thought. Attracted by the money and fame, the scholar had secretly kept a copy, claimed the pen name as his own, and sent the manuscript to the publishing house.
Now that she had already been found, there was no more need to hide.
“I will not make everyone wait too long.”
Wen Qing hesitated for a moment before asking, “If in the future He Yun finds someone she wishes to marry, what will you do?”
Feng Yi looked at him with an amused, knowing smile, watching until his ears turned bright red before answering. “If He Yun so desires, I will grant her a formal divorce and send her off to be married with all proper ceremony and honor.”
Wen Qing’s heart lifted. Once he had avenged A’Rui and if he was still alive, he would return to ask for He Yun’s hand.
“And what about you? Do you intend to live alone for the rest of your life? Will you never seek a companion again?”
Jiang Xingzhou tightened his grip on his cup once more.
“I shall leave it to fate,” Feng Yi said casually. “If I am lucky enough to meet someone who understands me, respects me, loves me, and is not too hard on the eyes… I suppose I might give it a try…”
Before she could finish speaking, there was a sharp crash as porcelain shattered.
The door to the private room was flung open violently, and a voice thick with rage burst in: “Who else do you wish to find?”
But Feng Yi’s attention was drawn only to his bleeding hand. “You have hurt yourself.”
She instinctively rose to tend to him, but her legs were unsteady from the wine, and she stumbled against the edge of the table, falling forward.
Jiang Xingzhou stepped forward quickly and caught her, pulling her firmly into his arms. His bleeding hand clamped tightly around her waist, his eyes cold and sharp as a blade as he glared at Wen Qing, who had risen to help.
Wen Qing glanced down at the main hall below, which was now completely empty—cleared of everyone. Just to be safe, he lowered the heavy cloth curtain covering the doorway.
“There is no need for Your Lordship to look at me with such suspicion,” Wen Qing said calmly and respectfully. “Qingyang and I share only a pure bond of friendship. I have another love in my heart.”
“Consider yourself fortunate that you have never overstepped your bounds,” Jiang Xingzhou replied coldly.
He turned his gaze back to Feng Yi in his arms, his voice rough and laced with anger and jealousy. “Who else do you want to find? What kind of man are you looking for? Someone like Wen Yanqing?”
“Your Lordship, you are frightening her,” Wen Qing said, stepping forward.
“Take one more step and I will kill you,” Jiang Xingzhou warned, the threat heavy and tangible in his tone.
The wine cleared from Feng Yi’s mind enough for her to speak. “Yanqing, please go home first.” Seeing that he did not move, she added, “I will be fine. Please, leave.”
Only then did Wen Qing bow respectfully. “I shall take my leave.”
Once his footsteps had faded away, Feng Yi raised her head. She had not deliberately mentioned other men to provoke Jiang Xingzhou, only wanting to avoid bringing trouble to anyone innocent. “Yanqing is not the type of man I desire. But what I seek is certainly not someone like you.”
“And what is wrong with someone like me?” Jiang Xingzhou pressed closer, cornering her. “Someone like me—did I not make you mine? Did I not bring you such pleasure that you bit down so hard you nearly made it impossible to pull away?”
“Jiang Xingzhou, you are mad!” Feng Yi closed her eyes, her chest heaving with emotion.
“Yes, I am mad,” he whispered, his eyes dark and filled with obsessive determination. “You have driven me mad, Feng Yi. You have ruined my ability to live a normal life, yet you dare to seek happiness with another man for the rest of your days?”
“Never!”
Their eyes locked, silence hanging between them like drawn swords, neither willing to yield.
After a long pause, Jiang Xingzhou was the first to relent. “Come back with me. You may continue writing your stories—just as long as you do not write those licentious tales.”