“Lu Gongzi, you… you’re here.”
Xie Miao’er looked at him with delight. After their gazes briefly met, she felt it was rather impolite to keep staring at his face. She forced her gaze downward, avoiding his eyes.
There was a trace of unconscious familiarity and closeness in her tone, but she still addressed him as “Lu Gongzi” like a stranger.
This subtle contradiction intrigued Lu Huaihai. His eyes lingered on Xie Miao’er for a moment longer.
The young girl had her head slightly bowed, her delicate eyebrows lightly brushed, and the skin on her neck appeared fair and smooth, so much so that even the loose strands of her hair couldn’t stay on it, quietly slipping into her collar.
Don’t look at what you shouldn’t. Just as Lu Huaihai was about to withdraw his gaze, he noticed her eyes.
She was staring at his chest in a daze.
Her gaze was so intense it seemed as though it might burn a hole there.
Lu Huaihai had just returned from sword practice. Earlier, he’d argued with his father and hadn’t had time to change into regular clothes. He was still neatly dressed in a fitted training outfit, with bracers on his wrists and a single leather shoulder guard slung diagonally across his body.
He awkwardly raised his hand and brushed at his shoulder guard.
“Let’s go inside,” he said.
Xie Miao’er snapped out of her daze and nodded.
Just now… it was as if she had been possessed. Her wandering gaze had unconsciously fixated on his left shoulder.
Lu Huaihai wasn’t injured yet, nor had he suffered any torment. But Xie Miao’er couldn’t stop herself from recalling the scene in her dream.
His shoulder blade had been pierced by cold chains, and he had bled profusely.
How much pain must he have been in at that time?
Xie Miao’er felt a faint ache in her chest. She sniffled lightly and let out a quiet, pent-up sigh.
Lu Huaihai hadn’t fully grown yet, but he was still a full head taller than Xie Miao’er. Without lowering his head, he couldn’t see the conflicted expression on her face.
Today, the courtyard finally looked somewhat presentable. The creeping vines of the banyan tree had been guided up the walls; the uneven clumps of dirt on the ground had been cleared away, no longer posing a tripping hazard; and an old, small dining table was set up under the open sky. Beside it was a flower bed, and the camellia inside had been trimmed into a much more pleasing shape.
Xie Miao’er felt proud. This was the result of their hard work all afternoon. So, she confidently said, “Lu Gongzi, doesn’t it feel more spacious now? It’ll be more convenient for you to practice your skills here in the future.”
Lu Huaihai glanced around and nodded.
The wooden stick he had casually broken and used yesterday, then stuck into the flower bed mud, had been neatly placed against the wall by her.
A strange feeling arose in Lu Huaihai’s heart.
He couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of the fluctuation in his emotions and simply attributed Xie Miao’er’s actions to another peculiar reason.
—After all, she was now his concubine. With trouble in her own family, it was natural for her to try to please him, her husband, in hopes of living a better life.
So Lu Huaihai said, “I told you, there’s no need to feel uneasy. Since I’ve kept you here, the Lu family won’t go back on its word. If arrangements suitable for your family arise in the future, I can also let you leave.”
He had indeed said these words yesterday. The first time Xie Miao’er heard them, they had warmed her heart. But hearing him repeat them now, it didn’t feel the same.
He thought she was doing all this to please him?
Xie Miao’er felt both amused and exasperated in her heart.
She had finally regained a healthy body and simply couldn’t stay idle. In the past, she had always enjoyed tidying up rooms and trimming flower branches, but back then, she lacked the strength and would tire out after just a short while.
But these were things he couldn’t have known, nor did he realize that she had admired him for a long time. Her actions, in his eyes, naturally took on a different meaning.
However… Xie Miao’er thought to herself, it was true that he wasn’t one to indulge in women. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have lived his entire life without marrying or having children, even up until his death.
She decided she should hold back a little. Since he hadn’t married, she only needed to interact with him in a normal manner. Over time, as long as he grew to trust her more and listened to her when crucial decisions arose, that would be enough.
With this thought, Xie Miao’er smiled faintly and said to him, “Alright, many thanks for your consideration, Lu Gongzi.”
Her reply this time was no different from before. Hearing it, Lu Huaihai responded with a soft “Hmm” and said no more.
—
After all that commotion, neither father nor son in the Lu family had eaten dinner.
Madam Su couldn’t be bothered to care whether her husband ate or not. She thought it would be best if he starved to death.
But she did think of her son. Upon hearing from the servants that he had gone to Xie’s courtyard again, she sighed, then instructed the small kitchen to send him some food, including an extra bowl of pork rib soup.
The newly set-up small dining table came in handy. As night fell, Lu Huaihai sat in the courtyard with chopsticks in hand, eating without tasting the food.
Xie Miao’er entered, placed an oil lamp down, and then left immediately, afraid of being misunderstood again.
But Lu Huaihai suddenly put down his chopsticks and called out to her.
“Wait, do you only have oil lamps here? No candles?” he asked.
Xie Miao’er nodded. “Oil lamps work just fine.”
For common households, candles were more expensive than oil lamps, so most people used lamps.
However, in the past, the Xie family used windproof wutong lamps at night. The light was steady, and the smoke was guided out by decorative lamp covers, making it completely non-irritating.
Candles flickered more, so Xie Miao’er still preferred oil lamps.
Lu Huaihai frowned. “Tomorrow, I’ll have them bring over some candles.”
For some reason, his tone when saying something considerate always sounded harsher than when he said anything else.
Xie Miao’er knew he meant well and curtsied to thank him.
As she bowed, she couldn’t resist glancing at his left shoulder again.
Compared to the hardened warrior he would become a decade later, forged in the fires of battle, his shoulders now seemed somewhat thin.
But the fact that he was whole and unharmed now was something priceless.
The Lu family, after all, lived off an official salary. Though not affluent, they were better off than many. Even their oil lamps didn’t use common cooking oil like those of poor households but were filled with odorless refined oil that burned with a clear, faintly yellow light.
The night breeze swept through, causing the flame to flicker gently.
The warm light, accompanied by a faint heat, created a subtle atmosphere, with both of their pupils reflecting the glow.
“Have some with me,” Lu Huaihai said to Xie Miao’er on an impulse.
Xie Miao’er was stunned and almost agreed.
But she quickly remembered that she was still in her mourning period. Shaking her head lightly, she said, “I am still observing mourning for… my father. It wouldn’t be appropriate to dine with Lu Gongzi.”
Her refusal, in turn, gave relief to Lu Huaihai, who had impulsively spoken the words. He steadied his wandering gaze and looked back at Xie Miao’er.
She wore a plain-colored dress, appearing like a faint mist under the night sky. A white gardenia flower was tucked into her hair, the source of the delicate fragrance.
After Xie Miao’er spoke, she returned to her room, but the lingering scent remained in the air.
Lu Huaihai quickly finished his meal. After resting briefly, he spent some time gazing at the moon in the distance before collecting his thoughts and beginning his sword practice.
His broad shoulders and narrow waist moved with poise, and the plain, unadorned training outfit he wore—without a single embroidered pattern—suited him far more than yesterday’s flowing robes.
Even under the shroud of night, his movements remained swift and precise. Tonight, he wielded a real sword instead of the unsharpened wooden stick from before. With each side-sweep and forward strike, a palpable killing intent emanated from his blade, causing Xie Miao’er, who was secretly watching, to instinctively shrink back.
It was terrifying. If he stabbed her with that, she’d probably be pierced clean through.
She knew she should feel afraid, yet she couldn’t look away, her gaze following his every move.
The history books described General Lu as favoring a left-handed blade. Xie Miao’er had initially guessed that he was left-handed, unlike most people. But after two days of observation, she noticed that whether he was holding chopsticks or a sword, he undoubtedly used his right hand.
So why did he later switch to a left-handed blade? Xie Miao’er couldn’t figure it out.
Lu Huaihai was aware she was watching him, but he paid her no mind, focusing entirely on the faint glint of the sword tip. Despite the cool early summer night, he worked up a sweat, his body drenched.
When Lu Huaihai finally sheathed his sword with satisfaction, Yue Chuang brought over a basin of hot water and a towel, walking on tiptoe to him.
“Young Master, please wipe your face first,” she said.
The maid had been instructed by her mistress to prepare the hot water and bring it over.
Lu Huaihai picked up the towel and haphazardly wiped his face. As he did so, his gaze inadvertently drifted toward the window of his bedroom—
Where he caught a glimpse of a silhouette.
She was in front of the mirror, combing her hair.
Lu Huaihai tossed the towel back into the basin and went to wash up.
When he returned to the room, Xie Miao’er was still holding the comb, tending to her long, dark hair.
Hearing him enter, Xie Miao’er turned and smiled, her brows arching softly.
The thought that had surfaced in Lu Huaihai’s mind earlier that day reappeared. He asked her, “What’s your name?”
“Xie Miao’er,” she replied briskly.
The name sounded completely devoid of elegance. He repeated it, “Miao?”
He then wondered why he’d even found it strange.
She was from a merchant family—why had he expected her to have a refined name?
Xie Miao’er nodded. She initially thought of fetching pen and paper to write it out for him, but there were none in the room. Thinking quickly, she retrieved an eyebrow pencil from her makeup box, lowered her gaze, and wrote her name on the wooden table.
Her long eyelashes cast a fine shadow across her cheeks as she looked down.
“It’s this ‘Miao (苗),’ Lu Gongzi, take a look.”
Lu Huaihai leaned closer to examine her writing.
The characters were bold and elegant, far better than his own.
Unintentionally, the two of them had leaned in quite close. Their breaths seemed to intertwine, overlapping in the quiet night.
Lu Huaihai took two steps back.
Xie Miao’er, however, seemed completely unaware. She rested her left cheek in her hand with a troubled expression and said, “I used the eyebrow pencil, and it looks so ugly.”
As she spoke, she hastily wiped away the character for “Miao” she had just written and carefully rewrote it.
After finishing, she blinked her eyes and looked up at Lu Huaihai.
Lu Huaihai suddenly felt his throat tighten slightly and called her, “Xie Miao.”
Xie Miao’er responded but quickly realized something was wrong. “It’s Xie Miao’er.”
He mimicked her tone, “Xie Miao.”
She corrected him, emphasizing, “Xie Miao’er—”
“Xie Miao.”
“Xie—Miao—Er—”
Xie Miao’er’s eyes widened in frustration. She had repeated it several times, yet Lu Huaihai still called her “Xie Miao,” swallowing the ‘er’ sound at the end.
She knew that people from some southern regions tended to swallow syllables when speaking. But Lu Huaihai was born in Liaodong, far from the southern regions, and when the Lu family moved here, he was already twelve.
Before Xie Miao’er could figure it out, both she and Lu Huaihai suddenly realized something at the same time, their faces instantly turning bright red.
What was this?
How had she ended up, somehow, making him repeat her name over and over again like this?