“Aren’t you the little maid from Guanxue Tower? What are you doing here?” Pei Hong asked, his peach blossom eyes blinking as his gaze settled on her.
“Brother, I asked Lichun to deliver the book covers. She’s incredibly skillful with her hands—you’ll see in a moment,” Pei Zhaoyin explained as she instructed a maid beside her to fetch the medicine chest.
“I see. Then you should thank her properly,” Pei Hong said gently.
“Don’t worry, Brother. I like Lichun, so I certainly won’t treat her poorly.”
Pei Zhaoyin had someone bring over an embroidered brocade box. Inside lay a pair of white jade hairpins inlaid with emerald-green pearls.
The Marquis of Changping’s estate enjoyed immense wealth and prestige. Even the casual rewards bestowed by its masters were treasures that ordinary families would never lay eyes on.
Taking the brocade box, Xie Zhi recognized at once that the hairpins were carved from the finest mutton-fat jade, while the green jade beads at their tips were equally precious.
After thanking her benefactor, Xie Zhi prepared to leave. Unexpectedly, Pei Hong spoke up.
“I happen to have business in the front courtyard. Let’s walk together.”
A rain shower had just passed, driving away much of the summer heat. The cloudless sky was clear, and from time to time orioles fluttered overhead.
Beneath the broad shade of towering trees, Xie Zhi tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said to Pei Hong,
“Fifth Young Master, we’ve arrived at Guanxue Tower. I’ll take my leave now.”
After receiving his simple “All right,” she turned and walked inside, hugging the little brocade box to her chest.
Just then, a gust of wind swept through.
For some reason, Xie Zhi stumbled.
Smack!
The brocade box slipped from her hands and hit the ground.
Alarm flashed across her face. She hurriedly crouched to pick it up, but just as her pale sleeve was about to touch one of the fallen hairpins, a large hand reached out first, retrieving it from the ground.
“Don’t panic. It isn’t damaged,” Pei Hong said beside her.
Following his movement, Xie Zhi stood up and looked at the hairpin in his hand with obvious relief.
“Thank goodness it didn’t break. Even if I died ten thousand times, I could never afford to compensate for it.”
Then she looked up gratefully.
“Thank you, Young Master.”
Pei Hong gazed into her bright, sparkling eyes and found himself momentarily entranced.
“Why make it sound so serious?” he said warmly. “Since Zhaoyin gave it to you, it belongs to you now. Even if it had broken, no one would blame you.”
As he spoke, he lifted the hairpin, intending to tuck it into Xie Zhi’s hair.
Xie Zhi lowered her head with a gentle smile, appearing perfectly meek and compliant.
Men… they’re all the same.
She had thought everything through the previous night.
Qingyi’s advice wasn’t without merit.
But what she wanted wasn’t luxury or fine clothes.
She wanted freedom.
As long as she won Pei Hong’s heart and persuaded him to take her as a concubine, he would inevitably have to ask Pei Du for her slave registration papers to complete the formalities.
At that point, she could seize the opportunity to take the documents and leave the Pei residence forever.
Without those papers—or a household registration certificate—she would merely be a runaway slave. If caught, she might even lose her life.
There was no chance that a mere servant girl like herself could persuade Pei Du, who already viewed her with suspicion, to hand over her papers.
But Pei Hong was different.
He was Pei Du’s younger brother. Surely Pei Du wouldn’t damage their brotherly relationship over the daughter of a disgraced official. To avoid trouble, he’d likely hand over the slave papers without much fuss.
Moreover, Xie Zhi had already learned that Pei Hong was famously romantic and easily smitten. She was confident enough in her looks that attracting his interest wouldn’t be difficult.
Unlike Pei Du, Pei Hong held no real power and was still restrained by his parents. Even if she escaped afterward, was he really going to chase her across the country?
The more Xie Zhi considered it, the more flawless her plan seemed.
Looking at the considerate and gentle Pei Hong before her, she felt increasingly reassured.
Things were progressing even more smoothly than she had imagined…
But just as the hairpin was about to slide into her coiffure—
Pei Hong suddenly froze.
Xie Zhi looked up in confusion.
His gaze had shifted past her toward the distance.
The next instant, his hand trembled.
The hairpin slipped from his fingers.
Crash!
It shattered into pieces upon the ground.
Xie Zhi blinked blankly at the fragments of jade scattered across the earth.
This time…
It had really broken.
“F-Father… Third Brother… what are you doing here?”
Pei Hong hurried forward and cupped his hands in greeting.
Walking toward them were his father, Pei Ting’an—the Third Master of the Pei family’s third branch—and Pei Du.
The moment Pei Ting’an saw his son’s appearance, especially the bruises on his face, he exploded with anger.
“You’re not a child anymore! Yet every day you fool around without a shred of dignity. The women in your rooms nearly outnumber mine! You’re still flirting everywhere you go. Look at your Third Brother, then look at yourself!”
Before he finished speaking, he raised his hand and slapped Pei Hong across the face.
Though struck, Pei Hong didn’t dare utter a word. He simply lowered his head and stood there obediently.
Xie Zhi could only stand awkwardly beside them, inwardly despairing.
As if Third Master Pei himself were some model of virtue.
What a sanctimonious hypocrite.
And now he’s ruined my entire plan.
Fortunately, Pei Du broke the tense father-and-son standoff.
“Third Uncle, Lord Li has already arrived and is waiting in the front hall.”
Pei Ting’an came back to his senses and barked at Pei Hong,
“Get back immediately! I’m warning you—until your face heals, you’re not to leave your quarters and embarrass this family again. And that woman you’ve been keeping outside? You’re not to see her again. Do you hear me?”
With that, he angrily ordered servants to escort Pei Hong away before hurrying with Pei Du toward the front hall.
From beginning to end, he never even glanced at Xie Zhi.
At least she hadn’t been caught in the crossfire.
Only when Pei Du turned back briefly did his cold gaze brush over her, as though intentionally—or perhaps not.
That night, Xie Zhi lit an oil lamp in her room and leaned over her desk, rushing to redraw the illustrations that had been ruined when she fell into the water.
Unlike most painters, she didn’t specialize in landscapes or portraits.
Instead, she created little stories of her own and illustrated them through sequential paintings.
Two months earlier, she’d casually shown some sketches to Qingyi.
Qingyi had found them fascinating and showed them to her uncle, who worked at Huizhen Studio. He thought they had promise as well and introduced Xie Zhi to the studio’s owner.
Since then, she had regularly submitted artwork to Huizhen Studio in exchange for a modest payment.
This incident had delayed her work unexpectedly, so she wanted to finish the illustrations as quickly as possible and save up money for the future.
She had only finished about half when someone knocked on her door.
Puzzled, she rubbed her aching wrist as she rose.
“I’m coming.”
When she opened the door, she found Tong, the record keeper, standing outside.
“Miss Lichun, Third Young Master has arrived. He wants you to help him find a book.”
After speaking, Tong glanced at the paint stains on Xie Zhi’s hands and added,
“Perhaps… you should wash up first?”
Xie Zhi looked at the hourglass.
It was already a quarter into the Hour of Hai—around 9:15 at night.
What’s he up to now, coming so late?
Unconcerned, she tucked her paint-stained hands into her sleeves, adjusted her twin buns in front of the mirror, slipped on her moon-white outer robe, told Tong to rest early, and stepped outside.
Normally, Guanxue Tower saw very little traffic.
Altogether, there was only one record keeper, three young page boys, two cleaning maids, and Xie Zhi herself, all living in the rear wing on the first floor.
She climbed to the second floor.
From a distance, she saw the man seated upright at the writing desk, illuminated by lamplight, seemingly absorbed in reading late into the night.