On the day of the Beginning of Winter, in the capital, heavy snow suddenly fell.
After finishing her consultation for the old Madam Gu of the Duke Ding’s residence, Zhu Qingyu stepped out, only to be blocked at the entrance by the snowfall.
While standing under the eaves waiting for a maid to fetch an umbrella, a tall, handsome man with sharp features, dressed in a black fox-fur cloak and wearing short hair, walked into the courtyard, instantly catching Zhu Qingyu’s attention.
This was Zhu Qingyu’s third year living in ancient times, and in all those three years, this was the first time she had seen a man with short hair.
Under normal circumstances, Zhu Qingyu would avoid young noblemen like him at all costs. But his hair, so out of place with the surroundings, caught her off guard and gave rise to a strange thought.
Could he possibly be the same as her—also someone who had transmigrated?
Should she try some sort of secret code to confirm it?
Or had these past three years in ancient times all just been a dream?
Had she somehow wandered onto a film set?
Zhu Qingyu was so shocked, her mind in complete disarray, that from the moment Gu Zhao entered the courtyard, she stared straight at him without looking away—even as he walked through the snowy courtyard and came close.
At that moment, a maid lifted the curtain and came out with a smile.
“Young Master.”
The title snapped Zhu Qingyu out of her thoughts. She quickly averted her gaze, lowered her head, and performed a respectful salute.
Since he was the heir of the Duke’s residence, her earlier thoughts were clearly nothing but wild imagination.
While Zhu Qingyu was looking at Gu Zhao, he was also observing her.
Compared to Zhu Qingyu’s obvious stare born of shock, Gu Zhao’s gaze was subtle and composed.
Ever since the new emperor ascended the throne a few months ago, Gu Zhao had been ordered to return to secular life and enter official service. To prevent him from possibly returning to monastic life, his grandmother had been busy arranging a suitable woman for him.
With the new emperor’s reign came countless affairs of state. As the emperor’s cousin, the newly appointed Vice Minister of Revenue, and the youngest Grand Secretary of the Cabinet, Gu Zhao practically lived in the palace offices, returning to the Duke’s residence only once every ten days or half a month during rest days—always coming and going in haste.
His grandmother knew he was busy, so she would simply arrange for young women to wait under the eaves, hoping that during his rare visits to pay respects, he might spare them a glance—and ideally, take a liking to one.
Repeated failures, yet repeated attempts.
So this was not the first time Gu Zhao had seen a young and beautiful woman waiting under the eaves at his grandmother’s place.
But a girl as bold as the one today—this was a first.
Gu Zhao closed his umbrella, shifted his gaze, and asked Nurse Li:
“I’ve come to pay my respects to Grandmother. Has she risen?”
Nurse Li smiled.
“She’s been up early. The old madam talks about you every day, just waiting for you to come back.”
Sure enough, after Gu Zhao entered the room, it took only a few sentences before the old madam steered the conversation toward the matter of arranging a woman for him.
“I didn’t expect you to return so early today. Just as well, I have something to discuss with you. You work so hard every day, yet you don’t even have someone by your side to care for you. I truly cannot rest easy.”
Having been rejected too many times, the old madam learned from experience and spoke first, not giving Gu Zhao the chance to refuse.
“Don’t rush to decline. Before, it was my arrangements that weren’t proper. But this time is different. She’s not a maid—she’s a well-educated, refined young lady from a scholarly family. Her family fell into misfortune, and if we hadn’t redeemed her, she would have been reduced to a disgraceful place. Saving her is also an act of kindness, isn’t it? And this girl—her looks and figure are exceptional…”
When the old madam mentioned her exceptional looks and figure, Gu Zhao thought again of the brief glimpse under the eaves.
The girl wore plain clothing, with not a single ornament on her body. She didn’t even have pierced ears. Her hair was simply secured with a plain wooden hairpin, and there was no trace of makeup on her face. Yet with that naturally beautiful, unadorned face, one couldn’t help but think of the phrase “peerless beauty.” She truly lived up to his grandmother’s praise.
In previous refusals, Gu Zhao had already made himself clear to his elders. It wasn’t that he intended to uphold monastic rules or had any desire to return to religious life.
After all, three years ago, his ordination had only been carried out under the late emperor’s orders, to help resolve difficulties for the current emperor—nothing more than a form of cultivation.
Now, he was simply too occupied with court affairs. Matters of romance were not something he could attend to. He had neither the time nor the energy to start from scratch with a stranger. He intended to wait until he had more free time.
But clearly, his elders didn’t quite believe him. They seemed eager to bind the ascetic young heir with worldly wealth, fine clothes, rich food, and beautiful women.
During the national mourning period, celebrations were forbidden for a hundred days, and noble families were not allowed to marry for a year. If a wife was not possible, then at least a concubine could be arranged.
Even the Empress Dowager had summoned him the day before, intending to assign him two women from the palace.
That very day, his father, the Duke Ding, had personally advised him:
“It’s such a small matter, yet you insist on making things difficult for yourself. What are you trying to do? How has it come to the point where even the Empress Dowager must intervene? You must understand—she is your aunt, but she is also the Empress Dowager! Or do you intend for the royal family to think you are leveraging past favors, making the emperor feel indebted, turning a good matter into a bad one? Zhao’er, is this how you conduct yourself as an official?”
Gu Zhao reflected on himself. His father’s advice was correct. In terms of official conduct, he was indeed not as perceptive as his father.
The key was not whether he was making things difficult for himself, but whether the emperor thought he was. Suffering and resentment, resentment and hatred—these were never far apart.
It was indeed a trivial matter. He had simply been overthinking.
So when his grandmother brought up the matter again, Gu Zhao did not refuse as before. Instead, he asked:
“Since she is from a scholarly family, and not to be a proper wife, is she willing?”
Hearing this, the old madam was overjoyed.
“Of course she is willing! How could she not be? I’ll have her called in—you can take a look. And if she’s not to your liking, I’ll find another for you. I’ll make sure to choose someone you truly like.”
Recalling the bold yet expectant look in the girl’s eyes earlier, Gu Zhao felt she was indeed willing. Since it was a small matter, it was best to settle it quickly.
“No need to look further. Let it be her. I still have matters to attend to at the palace, so I won’t disturb Grandmother’s rest.”
Finally getting her grandson’s agreement, the old madam seized the moment.
“Then on your next rest day, the tenth of the tenth month, we’ll arrange for her to serve you tea and make it official?”
Gu Zhao nodded, bowed, and took his leave.
When he stepped outside, the girl who had been under the eaves was nowhere to be seen.
In the snow, a trail of footprints wound from beneath the eaves toward the courtyard gate.
The snow continued to fall heavily. Judging by the tracks, she had only just left.
On such a cold, snowy day, now that the matter was settled, she no longer had to stand under the eaves in the wind and cold. That should be a good thing for her.
Gu Zhao picked up his umbrella and followed the winding footprints, coming through the snow—and returning into it.
After leaving the old madam’s residence, amid the crunching sound of snow beneath his feet, Gu Zhao suddenly realized that he had left in such a hurry that he hadn’t even asked for her name.
He took two steps back, intending to return and ask, but then stopped.
Forget it. They would meet in a few days.
He could ask her then.