After a long while, he didn’t know how he ended up at Su Ji Eatery. Standing across the street, he watched for quite some time before finally lifting the door curtain and stepping inside.
It was past the usual meal hours, and there weren’t many people in the main hall. At this time, seated at a table by the window was a girl—in a goose-yellow spring jacket and a water-green skirt—Zhang Qiaoyun. Before her lay a plate of Qingtuan and a bowl of porridge, which she was eating gracefully.
Lin Wenxuan paused, then walked over to his usual seat by the wall and sat down.
“Zhou Yunniang, a bowl of Yangchun Noodles,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse.
“Alright!” Zhou Yunniang responded.
Zhang Qiaoyun heard the voice, lifted her head, and saw Lin Wenxuan. Her eyes brightened slightly. She put down her spoon, wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, hesitated for a moment, then stood up and walked toward him.
“Master Lin,” she said softly.
Lin Wenxuan raised his head, saw her, and was slightly startled. He immediately stood up and bowed with clasped hands: “Miss Zhang.”
“Master Lin is also here to dine?” Zhang Qiaoyun smiled, her cheeks slightly flushed. “The Mugwort Qingtuan here is quite special. Have you tried it?”
“No,” Lin Wenxuan lowered his eyes.
“Then… perhaps you could try it,” Zhang Qiaoyun’s voice grew even softer. “My father often says that your talent and learning are outstanding, among the top at the County School. I… I have always admired you greatly.”
Lin Wenxuan looked at her. The twilight glow from the window fell on her face, making her appear gentle and graceful. She looked at him, her eyes filled with admiration, shyness, and a certain fervent light. This kind of gaze he had never seen in Su Mo’s eyes. Su Mo always looked at him calmly, distantly, as if looking at a… insignificant person.
That hollow feeling in his heart seemed to be pierced by something, stirring up a fine, dense pain.
“Miss Zhang flatters me,” his voice was dry.
“The noodles are here,” Zhou Yunniang brought the noodles over, looked at them, and smiled. “You know each other? Miss Zhang, would you like to sit here and eat together?”
“No, no need,” Zhang Qiaoyun’s face flushed even more. She nodded slightly to Lin Wenxuan. “Master Lin, enjoy your meal. I’ll excuse myself first.”
She turned, quickly walked back to her seat, picked up her food box, and hurried away with her maid. At the door, she glanced back once more.
Lin Wenxuan sat down and picked up his chopsticks. The noodles were still hot, the steam blurring his vision. He lowered his head and took a bite. The taste… familiar, yet unfamiliar. That restlessness in his heart, that emptiness, did not diminish by half because of this bowl of noodles or because of Zhang Qiaoyun’s fervent gaze.
He ate slowly, but his mind was still filled with Zhou Cheng’s words, Su Mo’s calm eyes, and the satisfied smiles of his classmates under the locust tree.
The noodles in the bowl gradually dwindled, and the soup cooled. He put down his chopsticks, stared at the empty bowl, and remained lost in thought for a long time. He took out three coins, placed them on the table, stood up, and walked out.
He didn’t understand how things between him and Su Mo had come to this.
After Grain Rain, the weather grew hotter day by day. In the courtyard behind the Linshui County Yamen, several pomegranate trees bloomed vibrantly, fiery red like clusters of burning flames.
Chief Clerk Zhang Mingde sat in the study, holding a cup of tea but not drinking it. His gaze fell outside the window, brows slightly furrowed. His daughter Qiaoyun had been acting a bit strange these past few days, often distracted and absent-minded when asked questions. When he inquired with the maid, she stammered and only said that the young lady had gone out to eat a meal a few days ago and had returned feeling… different.
Zhang Mingde felt a stir in his heart. He called over the servant who had accompanied her and inquired in detail. The servant said that the young lady had gone to Su Ji Eatery, eaten mugwort qingtuan, and… had also encountered Lin Xiucai from the County School.
Lin Wenxuan. Zhang Mingde knew this person. He was a famously aloof and talented scholar at the County School, well-read but from a poor family, with a somewhat eccentric temperament. How could his daughter be interested in him…
He recalled how his daughter had been lost in thought these past few days, often holding a copy of "A Thousand Households' Poems"—that book, it seemed, had been borrowed and returned by Lin Wenxuan. He also remembered the faint blush on her cheeks and evasive look in her eyes whenever she occasionally mentioned "Young Master Lin."
Zhang Mingde picked up his teacup and took a sip. The tea had already cooled, tasting somewhat astringent. He set the cup down and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.