At the gates of the princess’s residence, it was Liu Bo who came out to open the door. Seeing her, he greeted her warmly: “It’s been ages since Qiu Sicheng visited!”
Qiu Xinran handed over the small gift she brought for visiting the sick, feeling a little embarrassed: “I’ve been busy with year-end palace affairs, so I only now have a moment to come.” She asked after Xia Xiuyan’s injury; upon hearing he was out of danger, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Did they catch the assassin from the autumn hunt?”
Liu Bo shook his head, sighing: “I haven’t heard the young master mention it. I’m afraid it’s impossible to trace now.”
Qiu Xinran didn’t know how to comfort him. Fortunately, Liu Bo quickly brightened again and chatted about other matters, cheerfully leading her toward the study in the rear courtyard. On the way, they made small talk until they reached the study’s doorway. Liu Bo continued: “Qiu Sicheng, you should stay for dinner tonight. The kitchen has been simmering fish soup all day.”
Hearing this, Qiu Xinran almost imagined the scent wafting from the back, nostalgically recalling the times she had sneaked meals at the princess’s residence.
“That might be a bit troublesome,” she said politely.
“Not at all. More chopsticks aren’t a problem,” Liu Bo said with a grin. “You must stay. I’ll go tell Aunt Zhang.”
He called through the door: “Young Master, Qiu Sicheng has arrived.”
Inside, there was silence for a long moment, until a lazy male voice said: “Let her in.”
Qiu Xinran pushed the door open. Warmth enveloped her instantly, a stark contrast to the cold outdoors. The small study had several stoves, a desk with a couch behind it, a carpet nearby—walking barefoot wouldn’t feel cold. A western window was slightly open for ventilation, with a green plant beside it, making the room feel very comfortable.
The study’s occupant reclined against the couch under a thin fur blanket, holding a half-open book. Hearing her enter, he lifted his eyelids slightly: “Close the door.”
Qiu Xinran turned to shut the door and approached the desk, placing the notebook she had brought down: “Young Master, these are the astronomy notes from the past two months. The teacher asked me to deliver them to you.”
“Put them on the desk,” he said coolly, not lifting his eyes.
Qiu Xinran placed the notebook down and immediately regretted agreeing to Liu Bo’s suggestion to stay for dinner; otherwise, she could have delivered the notes and left after a short visit.
Previously, she had a pretext of practicing archery at the residence and didn’t feel awkward being near him. Now, sitting silently together, the atmosphere was slightly tense.
Xia Xiuyan continued flipping through his book. After a while, he seemed to remember her and asked: “Did Liu Bo leave you here for dinner?”
Relieved, Qiu Xinran hurriedly nodded: “Yes, I couldn’t refuse the invitation, but—”
He simply nodded without waiting for her to finish. She noticed he wore only a thin inner garment—much more casual than in the palace.
“Bring me my coat,” the young master said naturally, sitting cross-legged on the couch.
Following his gaze, Qiu Xinran saw the coat hanging behind the bookshelf. Clearly, this study was more frequently used by him than his own bedroom. She retrieved it and handed it to him. Xia Xiuyan draped it over his shoulders, fastening the buttons, and said: “If you’re bored, you can pick a book from the shelf.” His tone suggested he tacitly agreed to her staying for dinner.
Since it was the right time and Aunt Zhang’s fish soup smelled irresistible, Qiu Xinran paused briefly, then returned to browse the bookshelf.
The study was small, apparently modified and furnished over time. A half-finished chess game sat in a corner, a small box of dried fruits near the couch. A tea set and jars of tea lined the floor near the desk, evoking a scholar’s study.
Yet the bookshelves told a different story: chaotic and worn, mostly old military texts from past dynasties, yellowed pages curling with age. Behind the shelves were weapon racks and even a sand table for troop formations, giving the room a strangely eclectic air.
“This study wasn’t originally mine,” Xia Xiuyan explained without looking up.
Qiu Xinran pointed to a dusty box behind the shelf: “Can I look inside?”
He peered over, frowning, seemingly unsure what was inside, and nodded: “Look, but put it back when done.”
She crouched and opened it carefully. Inside were old items: storybooks, antique picture books, elementary texts like Thousand Character Classic and Three Character Classic, and a stack of practice sheets with childish handwriting.
She giggled, drawing Xia Xiuyan’s attention.
“Not done yet?” he asked, lifting the blanket slightly, about to intervene. Qiu Xinran stood quickly, holding a small iron box she found: “Is this General Xia’s too?”
Xia Xiuyan had no memory of the box. Opening it revealed a stack of leaf cards.
“You play this too?” she asked, smiling warmly. He frowned at the cards: “What’s this?”
“You don’t know?”
She poured them out and explained: “This is Leaf Game. I often played it in the mountains.” Xia Xiuyan silently examined them, then asked: “How do you play?”
Soon, they set up a small square table. Qiu Xinran sat cross-legged opposite him, explaining the rules. Afterward, he nodded absently: “Let’s start a round.”
“Wait!” she exclaimed. Jumping down, she wet a sheet of paper from the desk’s ink dish and placed it on the table: “Usually we bet, but just for fun today. Loser gets a punishment. When I played with my junior, the loser got a strip of paper stuck on their face. Do you agree?”
Xia Xiuyan glanced at her flushed, excited face, very different from the timid boy from earlier: “Do as you like.”
“Good!” she said, tearing the paper into strips with practiced ease. “You’re new to the game, so the first round doesn’t count. Once you understand, we’ll start properly.” She removed her outer cloak, tossed it on the chair, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Xia Xiuyan watched silently: “…”
After three rounds, he slammed his remaining cards on the table, teeth gritted: “Again!”
Qiu Xinran chuckled. Seeing his strips on his face, she felt emboldened and stuck another one on his forehead.
She reshuffled, explaining: “The game was supposedly invented by a monk.” She sounded proud, a quiet, subtle boast.
Xia Xiuyan snorted: “So what? You’re not a monk.”
Qiu Xinran replied: “You don’t know—he was also skilled in astronomy.”
He snorted again: “Seems like you tricksters did your research.”
She decided to abandon pointless arguments and prove herself through skill. But as he learned the rules, winning became difficult. Near sunset, she finally had strips on her face too, though he lost worse.
The final round ended. Xia Xiuyan tossed his last card down with a satisfied hum, stirring the strips on his face.
Qiu Xinran, grudgingly holding her cards, prepared to retaliate. Before she could act, he tore a strip, wet it, and was about to stick it on her face, when a knock came at the door.
They froze. Liu Bo’s voice called: “Young Master, dinner is ready. Shall we serve it now?”
Overjoyed, Qiu Xinran shouted: “Now! Let’s eat now!” She leapt up, and Xia Xiuyan, seeing her antics, tried to grab her hand: “Stop!”
But she slipped away like a little fish, leaving only warmth on his palm.
Not thinking of the near-capture, she dashed to the door, flicking the strip off her face and gesturing to him. Xia Xiuyan wiped his strip away, still glaring as if to kill.
Outside, dusk had fallen unnoticed. Liu Bo directed the servants to bring the meal in. Seeing Xia Xiuyan’s frown, he was pleased he seemed more spirited than usual: “Qiu Sicheng, taste this fish soup—it’s been simmering for hours.”
The creamy soup steamed invitingly. Qiu Xinran couldn’t help but sit and pick up her chopsticks. If Liu Bo weren’t watching, she might have eaten before anyone else.
Xia Xiuyan padded over and sat opposite her, still somewhat angry.
Qiu Xinran, taking the initiative, ladled soup into a bowl and offered it with both hands: “Young Master, try it. If it cools, it’ll smell fishy.” Her eyes curved into crescent moons, a playful, coquettish look. Xia Xiuyan inwardly grumbled but took it anyway.
After he blew on the soup and tasted it, Qiu Xinran hurried to serve herself. She drank too quickly and was instantly burned, tears springing to her eyes, tongue out as she fanned her mouth.
Xia Xiuyan glanced at her in mild disdain, but seeing her pitiful state somewhat calmed his anger. He finally picked up his chopsticks, and in his heart, he pardoned the afternoon’s games.