The journey to Huguang and Zhejiang had truly exhausted him. He rode home swiftly, only to be greeted by dimly lit rooms and no sign of her.
Upon asking, he was told she had gone out. He waited for two hours before she finally arrived, unhurried.
Had she been going out frequently during his absence, treating his words as nothing more than empty air? He disliked losing control over those around him, and he despised betrayal—especially from her.
She could only stay by his side, speaking and smiling for him alone.
The darkness in his eyes seemed to slowly devour her.
When he looked at her like this, Ming Ying feared even her slightest breath might displease him and cross his boundaries.
Fortunately, she had hidden the painting earlier.
She truly loved that painting.
Kneeling familiarly at his feet, she placed her hands on his luxurious robe, her watery eyes blinking as she answered truthfully: "Young Master, with the New Year approaching, I was afraid the courtyard would feel too quiet when you returned, so I went with Sister Ling Shuang to buy some New Year goods. At the end of the year, you’ve worked hard, and I wanted you to feel happy when you saw them."
Ling Shuang, standing nearby, nodded in agreement and spoke a few words on her behalf.
Only then did Pei Xiaoyun’s expression soften slightly.
Recalling her young age and fondness for liveliness—how she used to love hanging festive banners and setting off firecrackers during New Year celebrations in Yangzhou—she would say that no matter how the previous year had gone, one should always bid farewell to the old and welcome the new joyfully, wishing for smooth sailing in the year ahead.
He took her soft, pale hand in his. Only a few faint pink scars remained on her palm, still delicate and pitiable. He pulled her wrist, drawing her closer.
A chill ran down Ming Ying’s spine. If he found out…
His tenderness was intoxicating, his indifference terrifying.
"Going out in such cold weather—if you catch a chill, you’ll be curled up in bed complaining again," he said, handing her a warm hand warmer.
Having not seen her for months, he truly missed her.
He dismissed everyone else and pulled Ming Ying onto his lap, holding her in an extremely intimate posture. Watching the tips of her ears gradually redden, he smiled: "Did you miss me?"
Ming Ying’s heart raced, something within her chest expanding and contracting. The heat of shyness exhaled, while the chill of tension inhaled. She grasped his hand: "Yes."
Pei Xiaoyun took out a square box, opening it to reveal a pair of white jade drop earrings. Holding them up to her ears, he remarked: "I thought these would suit you, but your ear piercings seem too small. I’ll pick something more suitable for you next time."
The icy beads pressed against Ming Ying’s earlobes, deliberately teasing and tracing them repeatedly, causing her face to flush deeply.
Pei Xiaoyun’s playful voice drifted down: "After serving me for so long, you’re still more easily embarrassed than an innocent maiden."
He loved her like this, like a well-behaved kitten licking his palm, utterly captivating.
"Has your pipa gathered dust? Go fetch it and play for me."
Ming Ying recalled the events of the day, her heart trembling.
But seeing the calm, undisturbed darkness in his eyes, her anxious heart slowly settled. Over the years, she had come to understand his nature. This look held no scrutiny or threat.
When he asked her to play the pipa, it was merely to seek amusement from her, as it had always been.
No different from using music and song to please a man.
The only distinction was that she pleased him alone.
Grass and trees have their own nature; why seek the favor of a beauty’s touch?
When would she ever be able to play a piece for herself, like Miss Fang of Fuguang Lou did?
She brought over the pipa that had accompanied her for several years. Just because he said she played beautifully, she had carried it all the way from Yangzhou to the capital.
Her delicate hands slowly plucked the strings, playing the very same "Yangzhou Slow" she had heard that day. The melody was gentle and pleasing, like the murmuring of flowing water; in its stirring and clear passages, it felt as if one were standing by a vast, mighty river.
Pei Xiaoyun half-closed his eyes, feeling that today's melody seemed to carry a divine charm, like mountains and rivers pouring forth, their roaring waves flooding his ears.
Those snow-white, delicate hands nimbly danced and turned, pluck after pluck, as if strumming directly upon his heartstrings.
He pulled her into his embrace, her waterfall-like black hair cascading over his arm.
The music came to an abrupt halt.
Ming Ying squirmed restlessly, feeling as if a fire were burning behind her.
"Young Master…"
Pei Xiaoyun pinched her slender, elegant chin, forcing her to turn around, and commanded, "Don't stop. Keep playing."
Her skirt spilled over his legs.
His hand moved in rhythm with hers.
The music came in fits and starts.
Ming Ying trembled all over. When her wrists grew unsteady, the notes turned urgent and swift, breaking through like a tidal wave; when she wept softly with tears falling, the melody seemed to melt into clear, cool spring water, low and gentle.
…
In the morning, the ground was covered in pristine white, and icicles hung from the eaves.
Ming Ying's body ached terribly; even blinking her eyelids felt exhausting. Reaching out to touch her neck, she felt the faint pain of teeth marks.
Recalling the previous night, her face grew warm, but she was too weary to dwell on it further. She picked up the bowl of dark medicinal brew and drank it all in one gulp, only for her stomach to suddenly churn violently. She grabbed the spittoon and vomited everything out.
She was feverish again, and her stomach felt extremely uncomfortable.
Staring at the liquid in the spittoon, she felt a pang of panic and instructed Yu'er to quickly brew another bowl for her.
Yu'er was young and somewhat careless, fumbling for quite a while until the medicine pot was nearly boiled dry. In the end, Ling Shuang took over, brewed it properly, and brought it in.
Ming Ying drank it immediately, and only then did her heart settle somewhat.
As the snow melted, sunlight streamed in. She took a few pills, her fever subsided, and it was time for her to get up.
Pei Xiaoyun had returned, and her duties grew heavier once more.
After concluding his investigation and returning to the capital, Pei Xiaoyun did not go to see the Crown Prince first. Instead, he arranged to meet Prince Yi, Xiao Qi.
The two sat drinking tea for a long while, neither speaking a word.
It was only when Pei Xiaoyun took out an arrow and leisurely placed it on the table that Xiao Qi's expression changed, and he said gravely, "Lord Pei, this is…"
Pei Xiaoyun did not answer. Instead, he picked up the arrow and toyed with it, blowing lightly on the shaft. A patch of dried mud fell away, revealing a clear pattern.
He slid the object over, watching the increasingly uneasy expression on the other man's face, and curled the corner of his mouth. "His Highness the Crown Prince sent me to Huguang and Zhejiang to investigate the case of privately stockpiled weapons. Your Highness, take a look—is this pattern on the arrow shaft exclusive to Prince Yi's residence? If not, it would be best to explain it to His Highness, lest someone deliberately frames you."
He had long since uncovered Prince Yi's disloyal intentions. Although that batch of weapons had been destroyed in advance, he had still managed to find traces of evidence.
Following the trail further, he discovered that Prince Yi had raised tens of thousands of private soldiers in the Northwest—his rebellious intentions were now clear as day.
Their eyes met, and after a long moment, they exchanged a smile.
Xiao Qi said, "Since Lord Pei has summoned me here, I presume you already know everything?"
With his weakness exposed, he had no choice but to kindly invite the other onto his ship. Moreover, the man before him was his future son-in-law.
"Your Highness would do well to tread carefully," Pei Xiaoyun replied, revealing nothing, only offering a faint smile.
His words, though not explicitly stated, were crystal clear to Xiao Qi. "Lord Pei is a man of refined grace and extraordinary talent, and my daughter is utterly devoted to you. Our families are already connected by marriage. If you are willing to lend me a hand, I will certainly not treat you poorly."
Pei Xiaoyun remained silent. Through the misty steam of the tea, his dark eyes gleamed brightly.
Crown Prince Xiao Lang was indecisive and weak, yet he still foolishly believed he could rely on those aristocratic families to secure his throne. Assisting such a useless person held no appeal. The path Pei Xiaoyun had laid out, Xiao Lang refused to walk—that left only a dead end.
Thinking this, he spun the arrow once around his slender fingers before returning it to its owner.
"Since this belongs to the Prince's residence, Your Highness should keep it safe."
Xiao Qi clapped his hands and laughed heartily, but that did not mean he had let his guard down completely.
A disgraced official, isolated and unaided, had managed to climb out of Zhaozui Temple, make his way from Yangzhou step by step back to the capital, and rise to become a red-hot new favorite at court. This man's capabilities likely revealed only the tip of the iceberg.
"What do you want after this is done?"
Pei Xiaoyun set down his cup and stood up, showing no regard for the fact that he was facing a member of the royal family.
His black robe swirled with the movement as he opened the door to leave, casually tossing back a remark: "We'll talk about it then."
After leaving the tearoom, Kong Qing approached him.
"Has Lin Xian arrived?" Pei Xiaoyun's expression returned to its usual coldness.
Lin Xian's mother and Lady Lan were sisters. The Lin family resided in Hangzhou and had never served as officials for generations, making their living through commerce. Back then, Lin Xian's mother had insisted on marrying a mere merchant, which had caused a rift with her family, so the two households had long ceased contact.
He had heard that this cousin of his possessed exceptional skill in painting and spent his years traveling to various places.
He happened to have recently arrived in the capital. Pei Xiaoyun had invited him to the residence with the intention of having him paint a detailed map of the mountainous terrain of the six northwestern regions, in order to ascertain Prince Yi's military deployments in the Northwest.
"He has arrived and should be at the residence by now," Kong Qing replied.
Pei Xiaoyun boarded the carriage. "Let's go. Time to meet him."
When Lin Xian received the invitation from Duke Qu's residence, he was greatly astonished. Hearing that it was Pei Xiaoyun who had invited him left him even more bewildered and puzzled.
Their two families had never had any dealings. He had no idea what they were up to.
He first went to visit his aunt, but Lady Lan was not particularly warm toward this nephew. After exchanging a few polite words, she claimed she was feeling unwell and retired to her room to rest.
"Master Lin, our Eldest Master will be back soon. It's cold outside; please follow me to the courtyard to rest for a while."
A servant from Lanqing Zhuoyuan came to invite him.
"Very well."
Lin Xian nodded, finding it difficult to refuse, and followed him.
Inside Lanqing Zhuoyuan, a group of women were brewing tea at Lanfang Xie.
This time of day was also the rare, most leisurely moment for the servants.
Ming Ying took a sip of the tea, unsure who had brewed it, and found it truly unpalatable. Her face showed discomfort: "Why is it salty one moment and sweet the next?"
The young maid who had brewed this cup scratched her head: "It seems the salt and sugar didn't fully dissolve."
"How could you put salt in it, you rascal? You've wasted good Fangshan Luyai tea!" Ling Shuang scolded her, then poured out the tea she had brewed herself and brought it to Ming Ying's lips. "Quick, taste mine."
Ming Ying took a sip, her furrowed brow smoothing as she gulped it down: "Sister Ling Shuang's tea is still the best."
"I'm not as skilled as you. Every time you brew Osmanthus Dew, the Eldest Master finishes it all."
The boiling steam lifted the lid of the small clay stove.
Ming Ying said, "My tea is ready too. I forgot to fetch the honey. I'll go to my room to get it. Please keep an eye on it for me."
She ran all the way from Lanfang Xie, passing through the stone gate, and saw a man walking in.
The man was clearly surprised to see her.
“It’s you?”
It was the young lady he had met that day at Fuguang Lou, to whom he had gifted a painting.
He had previously wondered about her identity, never expecting to see her at Guogongfu. Her attire was more vibrant than that of an ordinary maid, yet far from matching the clothing standards of the master’s household.
“Mr. Lin.”
Ming Ying halted her steps, a sense of awkwardness enveloping her entire being.
She had thought their encounter that day was merely a chance meeting and had intended to conceal her identity, never imagining they would meet again.
And in this place.
With her awkward status, she feared she would leave no favorable impression in the eyes of someone like Mr. Lin.
Though Lin Xian had guessed, he made no mention of her identity, only saying, “I was passing by just now and saw those potted camellias blooming beautifully. Did you plant them all?”
Ming Ying nodded in affirmation.
Separated by the stone gate, one stood outside and the other inside, exchanging a few words.
In the distance, Kong Qing followed closely behind Pei Xiaoyun, about to enter the inner courtyard, when he suddenly noticed his master had stopped.
“Eldest Master, what’s wrong? Did you forget something?”
Puzzled, he looked over and saw his master’s eyes as cold as blades, fixed intently on a man and woman conversing not far away.
The two were none other than Miss Ming and Young Master Lin.
Author’s Note:
Someone’s about to go mad with rage [angry][angry][angry]