At night, the rain lightened, and fresh green leaves swayed in the wind, carrying a chill that made one shiver.
Wei Qin, who had not yet fallen asleep, pillowed his head on one arm as he lay on the outer side of the rack bed. His fingertips toyed with the note he had slipped into his sleeve just before lying down.
On it was a drawing depicting a large amount of gold, silver, jade, and silks buried in the Yan Mansion Garden. Little figures shoveling the soil had names marked above their heads—the seven salt merchants who had been rising in prominence in recent years.
Four were chief merchants, holding the highest status among the salt merchants, while the other three were venue merchants, second only to the chiefs.
If he could gather evidence of these seven bribing Yan Hongchang, obtain a search warrant, and dig up the gold, silver, jade, and silks, Yan Hongchang would be nailed for bribery and abuse of power. The Yan Clan would face extermination down to the nine degrees of kinship.
As Wei Qin pondered how to approach one or two of these seven salt merchants, a dainty foot pressed down, landing on his chest.
Wei Qin turned his head, pillowed on his arm, thin lips curving slightly.
The little lady, fast asleep, had lost all composure, draping one leg across his chest.
Her flexibility was impressive.
Wei Qin grasped the woman’s ankle with his other hand. His fingertip lingered on the slender ankle bone, tracing over the smooth, soft skin all the way to her jade foot.
It was quite cold.
From getting caught in the rain and chill.
He slowly lifted that snow-white little foot and planted a gentle kiss on it.
In the Yan Mansion’s corridor with its carved pillars and beams, Yan Hongchang spoke to several guests, occasionally stroking his mustache. “While His Highness the Crown Prince is in Yangzhou, this official does not wish for any mishaps. Quickly fill in the missing accounts. Do not put this official in a difficult position.”
The guests looked troubled. One stepped forward, bowed deeply, dressed in a double-peach ruyi-patterned heavy brocade robe that exuded wealth. “It is not that we do not wish to fill them in for you, Lord, but the accounts are severely lacking. We are powerless to help.”
“The transport judge appointed by the court has been in office for some time and will surely demand an explanation to report back. You chief merchants are the giants of Yangzhou’s salt trade, all promoted by this official single-handedly. You should understand that if the lips perish, the teeth grow cold.”
The man sighed, not daring to defy him further.
After dismissing them with a wave, Yan Hongchang sighed as well. Human greed was like a snake swallowing an elephant—insatiable. One misstep led to endless errors. If he did not mend the fold after losing the sheep, he feared his official hat would be lost.
The Crown Prince would not join him in the mire. If he confessed proactively, the prince would likely execute him in righteous kinship to earn favor with Your Majesty.
By then, even his head would not be safe.
Yan Hongchang touched his neck.
Minister of Revenue Tao Qian was a confidant of the Third Prince. Rumor had it that Tao Qian had recommended Wei Qin for this posting. That old fox aimed to topple him, tarnish the Crown Prince’s name, and pave the way for the Third Prince’s bid for the throne.
The court sending Wei Qin had already startled the snake, but it served as a wake-up call. He needed to patch the accounts quickly and find an auditing official to take the fall, insisting the Salt Transport Office’s books had no flaws—only sloppy accountants.
By then, to preserve his pristine reputation, the Crown Prince would likely cover for him. At this moment, though, Yan Hongchang hoped the prince had come merely to reward the salt merchants, unrelated to Wei Qin.
One could only hope.
For now, the plan was to pressure those chief merchants to cover the shortfalls, then quietly fill the rest himself.
What went into the belly was painful to regurgitate.
Yan Hongchang clenched his fist, lost in melancholy, when he spotted a figure approaching from one end of the corridor.
“Zhuyu, why are you still up so late? Why didn’t Han Yan and the others accompany you?”
Yan Zhuyu walked over step by step, glancing coldly at him. “What were you just plotting with those salt merchants, Father?”
“Nothing…”
The Ministry of Revenue’s investigation into Yangzhou’s salt accounts was confidential; Yan Zhuyu knew nothing of it. But she knew her father’s character. “Father, your position today was won for you by this daughter in the imperial family. You must cherish your fortune.”
Though she loathed her father, fat water did not flow to outsiders’ fields. If she did not support her own clan, she would end up isolated without aid.
“Zhu Yu’s imperial exam is approaching. Father should focus his efforts on his legitimate son. If Zhu Yu tops the list next spring and enters the Hanlin Academy smoothly, it will bolster this daughter’s position as well.”
Producing a top three scholar would earn a glance of favor from the imperial clan.
“Yes, yes, Father understands.”
Climbing to his current position had not been easy. Yan Zhuyu sensed something amiss and wanted to warn him, but felt powerless. She would not stay in Yangzhou forever to watch over his words and deeds. “I hope Father speaks little and acts swiftly.”
As she left the corridor and descended the stone steps, she saw Han Jian approaching from afar, his face ashen. She stopped, arms folded. “Did you get it back?”
She could not let that unscrupulous merchant Manager Xie profit. She was determined to recoup the extra payment.
Han Jian bowed. “This servant failed in his task.”
“Even dealing with a hunched old man was too much for you? You can’t handle such a trifle? You’ve eaten your meals in vain.”
With those lightly dismissive words, Yan Zhuyu brushed past Han Jian. No harsh rebuke, but the scorn in her cold sneer humiliated him more than any heavy words.
The next day at the yin hour, before dawn broke, Jiang Yinyue woke habitually. The Jiang Clan had a rule of daily greetings, and from childhood, she had risen at yin hour to pay respects to her father before morning court.
Rubbing her eyelids, she started to sit up but tilted sideways, falling onto the man’s arm.
“Hm?”
Her feet stepped on something hard. She curled her toes, her toes brushing over a firm, contoured “heat source.”
It was Wei Qin’s abdomen.
Had she lost composure in sleep, kicking her feet into Wei Qin’s robes?
Realizing the possibility, she bit her lower lip, trying to withdraw her feet silently as if nothing had happened. But Wei Qin caught both little feet.
“It wasn’t on purpose.”
She explained immediately.
Wei Qin did not open his eyes; his thin eyelids closed lightly, raven lashes trembling faintly with each breath.
Jiang Yinyue pushed him. “You’re awake.”
Called out, Wei Qin slanted his gaze toward the woman lying on her side against the pillow, remnants of sleepiness in his eyes.
The warm-colored bed curtains blended with the woman’s scent. She gazed at him with watery almond eyes, a touch of innocence, soft and warm without sharp edges.
Wei Qin’s hand on her little foot tightened gradually, drawing the “soft warmth” before him into his palm.
The dainty foot was exceptionally smooth and tender.
Scented with milk-like soapberry fragrance.
Jiang Yinyue kicked her legs lightly. Once satisfied, she burrowed under the quilt on the bed, propped her head up, and leaned close to Wei Qin’s face. “You still need to report for duty. Don’t be late.”
Wei Qin grunted, his voice husky with morning timbre. He sat up, leaning against the bedpost, a rare laziness visible only to her.
Lord Wei, who had gone to bed at chou hour, pressed his brow, and a pair of small hands took over.
Jiang Yinyue increased the pressure, focused intently on easing his fatigue. She did not notice her disheveled nightclothes collar, hanging precariously off one shoulder.
Her shoulder was rounded, collarbone fully exposed.
Fair with a pink tint.
“Did you not rest well last night?”
She asked earnestly. Her raised sleeve fell to her elbow, revealing her forearm, matching the pinkish white below her collarbone.
Wei Qin did not rush to rise and wash. He let her massage him. The discipline and restraint from his scholarly days, immune to distractions, loosened in this moment.
While one person immersed herself in the warm bed curtains at dawn, another crouched at the street’s end west of the post station, waiting alone for something.
As Wei Qin walked in the morning breeze, Cui Shihan, leaning against a camphor tree by the roadside, kicked a pebble. It rolled straight, stopping right at Wei Qin’s feet.
“A word, if you please.”
Wei Qin approached her, stopping three paces away. He scanned her sickly pallor, jaw tightening as if to speak but holding back.
Moments later, they stood in a deserted alley.
Cui Shihan drew a thick envelope from her cloak, holding it between her fingers. “To repay Lord Wei for saving my life.”
“Banknotes?”
Cui Shihan blinked, then smiled, accompanied by a few coughs. “Worth more than a large sum of banknotes. It can help you soar straight up.”
The girl’s pale face turned toward the morning sun, chin raised proudly and boldly.
Wei Qin passed by her side, plucking the envelope from between her fingers as they brushed shoulders.
Meanwhile, Jiang Yinyue, escorted by Wei Qin to the post station, did not rush to see Qi Bao. She found a potter’s shop on the street and commissioned a miniature Qi Bao figurine.
A man emerged from the adjacent clinic—around twenty-two or twenty-three, in silver robes and white gown, elegant and handsome. He brushed past Jiang Yinyue as she led the potter toward the post station.
Their eyes met briefly, then parted.
Each went their way.
Jiang Yinyue brought the potter to the post station gate. Unlike her usual entry as if it were her own home—from gate to spiral stairs to chamber—she went through three layers of announcements.
Fu Zhongcai came down personally to inform her, “His Highness permits only the lady to enter.”
Barks from Qi Bao echoed from the spiral stairs, sensing her arrival.
Jiang Yinyue asked the potter to wait outside and followed Fu Zhongcai alone into the chamber.
Wei Xichen, in white robes, sat at the table holding fragrant tea, eyes lowered to the tea surface. He asked faintly, “Why make a clay figure?”
Fu Zhongcai withdrew quietly, sensing His Highness’s poor mood.
Jiang Yinyue stroked Qi Bao as it approached, explaining, “After today, this common woman will no longer disturb. If Your Highness grants this favor, please leave Qi Bao with me. If not, this common woman wishes the craftsman to make a clay sculpture of Qi Bao as a memento.”
Qi Bao’s injuries were no longer serious, just needing time to heal. The beast doctor had taken his reward and departed. Jiang Yinyue thought she should also avoid suspicion at the right time.
They who had parted ways should have no further entanglements.
Her little sister-in-law at home could not touch animal fur. Jiang Yinyue planned to board Qi Bao temporarily at Cui Shihan’s Huai Jin County Princess Mansion, then take it back to the Capital City together.
Qi Bao, nipping at the hem of her skirt, whined urgently, eager to go out and play. Jiang Yinyue stood still, awaiting Wei Xichen’s response.
Not about permitting her avoidance, but whether he would grant the favor.
Wei Xichen’s fingertips whitened on the purple-sand teacup. Amid the rising tea steam, he raised his eyes faintly. “Qi Bao was also raised by This Prince.”
“Understood.”
“Stop.”
Wei Xichen called to Jiang Yinyue as she tried to take Qi Bao out. He rose slowly. “If This Prince does not grant it, you will no longer come to visit Qi Bao, correct?”
“Mm.”
Jiang Yinyue stared at Qi Bao’s grinning maw, her eyes suddenly reddening. But she did not cry, forcing herself not to be held back by past ties.
If that day came when Qi Bao needed her, she would not hesitate—but that was for the future.
Wei Xichen’s fingertips still held the undrunk tea. He stepped closer, his tall frame overshadowing the woman with furrowed willow brows. “Qi Bao is fourteen. Do you think it will live a hundred years?”
Jiang Yinyue had never seen Wei Xichen angry, not even mildly. She stepped back, avoiding the dragon saliva incense scent on him, unwilling to discuss Qi Bao’s lifespan.
Since it was future talk, why worry prematurely?
She led Qi Bao outward, but Wei Xichen, eyes straight ahead, gripped her wrist and pulled her back gently.
“Answer This Prince.”
“Your Highness, compose yourself!”
A crisp snap rang out as Wei Xichen crushed the teacup in his hand.
Shards cut his skin, blood beading along his palm lines and dripping.
“Woof! Woof woof!”
Qi Bao was badly startled, moving to lick Wei Xichen’s wound, but he raised a hand to fend it off.
He closed his eyes, striving to suppress the sudden or long-pent-up anger.
Qi Bao grew frantic, nudging his leg with its nose, then turning to Jiang Yinyue with panicked whines.
Jiang Yinyue glanced sideways at the man’s bleeding hand, her eyes hollow. She turned and left directly.
He had personally killed off her innocent self. Now facing him, her heart was cold, her words empty.
“Woof woof woof!”
Behind her came Qi Bao’s barks and Fu Zhongcai’s efforts to hold it back. Jiang Yinyue did not turn, apologizing to the potter outside and paying his errand fee.
Leading Chasing Wind aimlessly through the streets, the vendors’ calls and haggling drowned out the lingering barks in her ears. She thought that since she had made her decision, she should not waver.
She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, turned Chasing Wind’s head, and headed to the Huai Jin County Princess Mansion to visit Cui Shihan.
Suddenly, a clear laugh came from a nearby stall. “Lady, care to have a painting made? Pay only if satisfied.”
The one who spoke up was a young man sitting before a sheet of rice paper. He wore silver robes over white, his eyes bright as distant stars, and he held a brush in hand, with ink stains blooming on his sleeves.
Jiang Yinyue remembered their first meeting outside the mud mason’s shop. She had not expected to encounter him again. “May I see the finished works?”
“Of course.”
The man spread out several portraits, all of ordinary folk toiling in the streets. The drawings were meticulous and lifelike.
Jiang Yinyue’s interest piqued. She led her horse forward without asking the price and described Qi Bao’s features directly.
After a brief moment of surprise, the man spread out a sheet of paper and quickly sketched, working with utmost seriousness. This stirred Jiang Yinyue’s anticipation.
An otherworldly charm seemed to gather at the tip of his brush, making the viewer feel as if this painting belonged in the heavens…
“It’s done. Please take a look.”
Jiang Yinyue’s mouth twitched at the sloppy image of a fat, pig-like dog on the rice paper. A typical street swindler.
She led her horse away, leaving the painter man immersed in his masterpiece.
Once the ink had dried, he rolled up the rice paper and packed it into a chest, where a crutch also lay.
In the evening, bamboo swayed and willows danced. Hurried travelers and an old man idly fishing by Jade Creek were all embedded in the molten gold of the setting sun.
When Jiang Yinyue returned to the Wei Residence from the County Princess Mansion, dusk had deepened. The matron told her that Wei Qin had a social engagement that day and would return late. She ate dinner, bathed and changed, then took out the tale of the lady and the scholar. She opened it to the dog-eared page and continued reading.
Whenever she reached a bold passage, she subconsciously glanced at the door.
As night fell and the lights of myriad homes gradually extinguished, Jiang Yinyue, who still awaited Wei Qin’s return, hid the book and prepared for bed.
“Knock knock knock.”
A knock sounded at the door. She hurried over. “Wei Qin?”
“Mm.”
Hearing that familiar, low voice, she opened the door, welcoming the man outside along with the warm yellow lamplight.
The moonlight brought with it the scent of alcohol from the man.
“You’re back. Come in quickly.”
She pulled him into the room and gestured for Du Juan to prepare some sobering soup.
After closing the door, she leaned in to sniff. “You drank quite a bit today.”
“I was entertaining some venue merchants. Those people can’t go without wine.”
Jiang Yinyue did not blame or question him. She trusted Wei Qin’s character and knew he would not indulge in debauchery outside.
Wei Qin lifted the teapot and poured himself a cup, sipping the cool tea to moisten his throat. “Did you prepare this for me?”
“You don’t like it warm.”
“Not entirely.”
“Ah? Tell me about it.”
Jiang Yinyue circled in front of him. She was more curious about the “warmth” he treated as a special case than whom he had entertained that day.
Wei Qin’s eyes, reddened alluringly at the corners from the alcohol, made his phoenix eyes seem even narrower and longer. He leaned against the table, shook his head, and let a lock of hair fall across his brow, looking seductively lazy.
Facing Jiang Yinyue’s expectant gaze, he did not answer. Instead, he asked, “What did you do tonight?”
“Read a book.”
“The lady and the…”
Jiang Yinyue pressed a slender finger to his lips and said solemnly, “Let’s leave it at that. No need to spell it out.”
She did not deny it either—bold enough to own up to it.
Disturbed by the alcohol and with his senses dulled, Wei Qin grabbed the hand that could not retreat in time and held it, rubbing it gently.
Jiang Yinyue could not pull her hand free and thought to herself that the sobering soup was taking too long.
“You’re drunk.”
“A little.”
“Then tell me, what kind of warmth do you like?”
A man who would not even sip warm water or porridge—how could he like warm things?
Wei Qin leaned against the table, his tall frame slightly bent, refusing to release the hand she subtly tried to withdraw.
The answer was not obvious?
He looked at her until she wrinkled her nose.
“A gentleman shouldn’t stare at a lady.”
“Then I won’t be a gentleman.”
Jiang Yinyue choked, somewhat at a loss with the drunken Wei Qin. He was mildly warm, neither frivolous nor debauched, but hardly proper—at least his hand was not.
Yet she felt no repulsion. Unbidden, a scene from the book surfaced in her mind: the scholar grabbing the lady’s hand, pulling it downward, further downward…
And another: the scholar lifting the lady into his arms, their shadows rising and falling on the wall beside them.
That was what she had read tonight—memorable.
She made the association unconsciously.
“Let go of my hand.”
Her voice was muffled, tinged with petulance, but she had not expected her wish to be granted the next moment.
Wei Qin really let go.
The back of her hand lost the man’s warmth.
“I’ll go urge Du Juan.”
To avoid the awkwardness, Jiang Yinyue resorted to her old trick, pretending to be busy as she turned. But just as she took a step, a weight suddenly settled on her back.
Wei Qin hugged her from behind, his arms encircling her waist. As she shrugged in surprise, he lifted her firmly upward.
His overlapped forearms crossed beneath her chest.
Wei Qin bent down, resting his chin in the crook of her neck, eyes closed as he murmured, “The lady is the answer.”
That warm, jade-like body was confined in his embrace.