The scenery in the courtyard remained the same as before. Only now, the flowers, plants, and small trees had all grown taller and fuller, lush with branches and leaves.
Everything was well-kept—but it lacked human warmth.
The main room’s door was not locked. With a gentle push, it opened.
A faint fragrance drifted out, resembling sandalwood, yet also like the scent of flower petals.
It was just like the scent his mother used to carry.
Pei Shuo stood at the doorway, suddenly unable to step inside.
Every furnishing in the room remained exactly where it had been. The wardrobe, the bookshelf, and his mother’s dressing table—all spotless, untouched by dust.
On the wall directly opposite the door hung a portrait.
In the painting, a woman dressed in pale moon-white robes sat in the courtyard, her brows gentle, a faint smile on her lips. Her entire figure seemed bathed in a warm glow.
The moment Pei Shuo saw the portrait, tears burst from his eyes.
“Mother…”
He finally spoke that long-forgotten word after five years. Like a taut string suddenly snapping loose, he could no longer control his emotions.
Outside the door, the old nanny heard his crying and felt her heart tighten.
She had been the Madam’s trusted dowry maid, with no children of her own. She had watched the Madam grow up and had long treated her children as her own.
Seeing the Young Master like this now filled her with pain.
After a while, when Pei Shuo had calmed slightly, she entered the room and gently comforted him.
“Young Master, when Madam passed, she was smiling. You… must not blame yourself anymore. If Madam knew, she would be heartbroken.”
Pei Shuo wiped his tears and straightened up, bowing respectfully to her. “Nanny Kong, all these years, you’ve been the one keeping watch over Mother… I… thank you.”
He bent deeply, and Nanny Kong hurried to support him. “Young Master! You mustn’t! Serving Madam was my duty—I cannot accept such courtesy…”
Pei Shuo straightened and looked at her.
The woman before him had white hair now, her back bent with age. But when she looked at him, her eyes were filled with joy.
He suddenly recalled his childhood, when Nanny Kong would hold him, feed him sweets, and pick maple leaves in the courtyard.
But after his mother passed, he shut himself away and never dared step into this courtyard again.
A wave of guilt surged in his heart. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.
Nanny Kong cautiously asked, “Young Master… will you come again in the future?”
Pei Shuo froze, a trace of struggle flashing in his eyes. “I…”
The image of his mother’s final moments appeared in his mind. His face turned pale, and he could not bring himself to say the word “come.”
The light in Nanny Kong’s eyes dimmed. She gently patted the back of his hand. “Whenever you miss Madam, you may come at any time. I will always be here. If you don’t wish to come… that’s alright too. As long as Madam knows she lives in your heart, it is enough.”
Pei Shuo felt his nose sting even more.
“…I’ll try.”
Nanny Kong nodded with a smile. “Good, good. Then this old servant will not disturb you while you speak with Madam.”
As she spoke, she quietly withdrew.
After she left, only Pei Shuo remained in the room.
Standing before his mother’s portrait, he murmured, “Mother, rest assured. I will never allow anyone to replace your place…”
A breeze lifted the corner of the painting. The woman’s smile remained unchanged.
Pei Shuo looked for a long time. At last, as if making up his mind, he turned and left.
…
Half an hour later, Madam Zhang had just finished attending to the Old Madam’s meal and was preparing to head to the storeroom to check items for an upcoming temple visit. As she turned past a corridor, she saw a figure standing at the steps below.
A small figure in a pale robe, back facing her, shoulders slightly hunched as if hesitating.
“Young Master?”
Madam Zhang hurried forward, looking him over. “It’s getting dark—why are you here? Do you have business with the Old Madam?”
Pei Shuo opened his mouth but hesitated.
Madam Zhang grew anxious. “If there’s something, just tell me.”
Pei Shuo lowered his eyes and said softly, “I… I accidentally lost Mother’s pouch.”
“What?” Madam Zhang was startled.
The pouch he carried had been embroidered by the Madam herself when she was alive, filled with calming herbs and petals. He had never parted with it and treasured it dearly.
If it was truly lost, how distressed he must be!
No wonder he lingered here, afraid to face the Old Madam even as night approached.
Madam Zhang’s heart softened immediately. “Don’t worry, Young Master. Where did you lose it? I can send people to help you search.”
Pei Shuo looked up, his eyes lighting up. “Really? But Grandmother—”
“Rest assured,” Madam Zhang said gently. “If we can find it, I’ll pretend I never saw you today.”
Only then did Pei Shuo relax and nod. “In that case, thank you, Nanny.”
Madam Zhang immediately called two young maids. “You two, take lanterns and come with me to search carefully with the Young Master. If anyone asks, just say something insignificant was lost. Understood?”
The maids quickly agreed.
Turning back, Madam Zhang asked softly, “Young Master, do you remember where you last saw the pouch?”
Pei Shuo pressed his lips together before finally saying, “After returning from the academy just now, I went to Luoxia Courtyard…”
Madam Zhang was surprised.
Since the Madam’s passing, it was said the Young Master had not set foot in Luoxia Courtyard for five years. Why today…
Something felt off, yet looking at his worried face, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“I understand. Let’s go quickly. It will be dark soon.”
…
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
Shen Lingwei walked through a part of the Marquis residence’s back garden, holding a lantern in one hand and An’an’s hand in the other.
“An’an, are you sure Tuanzi ran this way?”
An’an’s small face was full of anxiety. “Mother, Sister Yinxing heard two maids say they saw Tuanzi run this way.”
Shen Lingwei felt a faint sense of unease.
Tuanzi never wandered off—why would it run so far tonight?
But seeing her daughter’s worried face, she didn’t say more. “Let’s keep looking. If we don’t find it ahead, we’ll go back.”
Though anxious, An’an knew not to trouble her mother. She pointed toward a courtyard not far away.
“Mother, let’s search up to there. If we still can’t find it, we’ll go back, alright?”
The mother and daughter continued forward, soon passing through a moon gate.
Beyond it, the scenery suddenly opened up.
A refined courtyard stood quietly in the night, vast in size, with upturned eaves silhouetted under the moonlight, giving off a cold elegance.
As they drew closer, Shen Lingwei could clearly see the three bold characters written on the sandalwood plaque.
Luoxia Courtyard.