The clamor of the street no longer reached Lu Huaihai’s ears.
He focused all his attention, waiting for her to speak.
It was like parched, cracked earth awaiting a long-overdue rainfall.
Xie Miao’er didn’t understand why he was being so solemn, but Lu Huaihai’s tension infected her, causing her to unconsciously hold her breath.
Her entire body seemed to stiffen, her expression freezing in place. Only then did Lu Huaihai realize how abrupt his question had been. He discreetly moved his right hand behind his back and used his left hand to take the Dingsheng1 Cake she was holding.
The awkward atmosphere gradually dissipated. Lu Huaihai, trying to compensate for his abruptness, added, “What I mean is… if there’s anything you still want to do but haven’t done yet, you can tell me while I’m still here.”
This attempt to patch things up was painfully clumsy.
But perhaps it was the dazzling lights of the myriad households behind him, or perhaps Xie Miao’er was eager to move on from the topic and focus on comparing the Dingsheng Cake of this dynasty with the versions passed down to later generations. Whatever the reason, she didn’t catch on to his awkward segue.
“Hmm…” Xie Miao’er tilted her head in thought.
If there were truly an opportunity, what she most wanted was to follow Lu Huaihai on his journey, to experience his soon-to-be-achieved great endeavors more closely.
However, she knew such thoughts were nothing more than idle fantasies. Let alone the fact that she was now only his concubine— even if she were his wife…
At this thought, Xie Miao’er’s cheeks flushed slightly. It was as if she had touched a burning hot potato, and she hurriedly threw such notions out of her mind.
Wife? What wife? What was she even thinking?
The Lu Huaihai of history had neither wife nor child, no ties or burdens. He was destined not to be someone who lingered over matters of affection.
Lu Huaihai waited a long while but didn’t hear her respond. He sighed softly.
Indeed, he had been too abrupt and too greedy.
He said no more and silently opened the paper package.
Inside were six flower-shaped Dingsheng Cakes. Their pale pink color wasn’t particularly appetizing, but such items were more for symbolic joy than actual taste; few people cared much about their flavor.
Xie Miao’er noticed his dejection. Though it was subtle—like the faint starlight hidden behind clouds—it was still something she hadn’t seen in Lu Huaihai during this time.
She couldn’t help but feel a bit surprised.
Then, she reminded herself that this was not yet the Lu Huaihai who had killed countless enemies on the battlefield. At this moment, he was just two years older than her, and she no longer found it strange.
She knew that after this enlistment, he would achieve brilliant feats, gain his first military merits, and soon meet virtuous teachers and loyal friends.
But he didn’t know that.
He didn’t know that he would embark on this path alone, without the support of his family.
Thinking of this, Xie Miao’er felt a faint pang in her heart. She forced herself to cheer up, trying to comfort Lu Huaihai.
“Shaoye, you don’t need to worry. Your martial skills are so exceptional. This time, you’ll surely shine!”
Lu Huaihai grew even more silent.
What did she think he was worried about?
But her gaze was so devout, as if standing before her wasn’t him, but a living War God.
The young girl’s expression of admiration did indeed satisfy a small corner of Lu Huaihai’s vanity. After all, no one dislikes being acknowledged or trusted—especially someone like him, who had always longed to achieve greatness through his own efforts.
So, he didn’t bother pulling the conversation back on track. Instead, under the cover of the spreading night, he recklessly ruffled the back of Xie Miao’er’s head.
It’s human instinct to flee after committing a “mischievous act.” Just like last time, Lu Huaihai quickly stepped past Xie Miao’er and walked ahead of her, ensuring she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of his expression.
Xie Miao’er didn’t dwell on his actions—after all, it wasn’t the first time her head had been patted.
She refused to let him off easily, though. Chasing after Lu Huaihai, she continued her chatter: “Shaoye, you must believe in yourself! Let me tell you, just—”
Lu Huaihai felt his vision go dark from her incessant prattling. Finally, he slowed his pace, his face sour as he said to her, “Do you want the whole street to know I’m running away from home tomorrow?”
As he spoke, he grabbed a piece of Dingsheng Cake from the paper package and stuffed it into her endlessly moving mouth.
It didn’t taste good at all. That old lady lied! Xie Miao’er pulled the cake from her mouth and returned to the previous topic. “Young Master, are you feeling uncertain?”
Lu Huaihai shot her a sidelong glance, and Xie Miao’er immediately swallowed her words.
As if! How could he possibly be uncertain?
Her animated expressions were so amusing that Lu Huaihai couldn’t help but want to tease her again. “Xie Miao, why are you so sure that I’ll win the battle and achieve instant success? Have you ever considered the possibility that I might die?”
His words were meant to tease her, but as he finished speaking, an inexplicable heaviness settled in his heart.
She didn’t seem worried at all about the possibility of him meeting danger on the battlefield.
Indeed, the greed of human hearts knows no bounds. Lu Huaihai felt deeply ashamed of himself. A moment ago, he had been secretly pleased by her admiration, yet now he found himself wishing she would care more about his safety.
Lu Huaihai struggled to reconcile with this uncharacteristically soft side of himself. Lowering his gaze, he concealed the shifting emotions in his eyes.
Xie Miao’er, however, earnestly pondered his question.
Blades and swords have no eyes,2 and everyone’s body is but mortal flesh. Even though she knew that Lu Huaihai’s journey would end well, would he get hurt this time?
Xie Miao’er realized how naively optimistic she was being and couldn’t help but feel guilty. Staring at the piece of Dingsheng Cake in her hand, she muttered softly, “If I had known, I would have bought another pack of Anfu Cakes3.”
Of course, Lu Huaihai didn’t expect a piece of cake to bring him any real luck, but hearing her say this, his heart softened anyway.
He picked up a piece of Dingsheng Cake and put it into his mouth.
The two of them walked slowly amidst the mundane bustle of the world, sharing the same bag of cakes.
It was summer, and the cool evening breeze was refreshing. Xie Miao’er could no longer focus on the street scenery. She carefully scanned the vendors along the roadside until, finally, she spotted her target.
Before long, she came back holding a newly purchased Peace Talisman and offered it to him. “The auntie who sold it said it’s been blessed at the temple!”
Lu Huaihai accepted it, his fingertip brushing against her palm unintentionally. He said, “Ordinarily, when a man and a woman go out together, it seems like it’s the man who should be giving things to the woman.”
Xie Miao’er raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for his next words.
“Cakes, talismans. And you, Xie Miao, is there anything you want?” he asked her.
Xie Miao’er indeed had something she wanted. She smiled shyly and said, “When you come back, take me to see what the vast ocean looks like, all right?”
Born and raised in the capital, she had never seen the legendary sight of “the spring river tide meets the sea level, and the bright moon rises with the tide.”
“All right,” Lu Huaihai agreed without hesitation. “If the city weren’t inland, I would take you to see it tonight.”
With his promise, Xie Miao’er smiled so brightly that her eyes curved into crescents. She said, “Then, Shaoye, you must return safely.”
By the time they returned to the fabric shop, the servant who had been waiting at the door had already resolved his own dinner, having waited so long for them.
It seemed as though something had changed between Lu Huaihai and Xie Miao’er, yet at the same time, nothing had. The atmosphere between them, however, was undeniably more harmonious and intimate than before.
It was like the gentle evening breeze that had come and gone unnoticed—impossible to grasp, yet its fleeting presence could be felt as it brushed past.
Back at the small courtyard, their routines remained unchanged. Lu Huaihai continued practicing his sword, while Xie Miao’er kept working her abacus. Yet, with his imminent departure looming over them, these familiar actions were imbued with an indescribable tenderness.
Lu Huaihai couldn’t help but glance through the lattice window from time to time, and each time, it seemed as though their gazes would meet—her eyes as clear and rippling as spring water.
That night, they each rested in their own spaces. Separated by a thin curtain, they listened to the sound of each other’s breathing.
Neither of them knew whether the other was still awake, but neither spoke.
Even in the latter half of the night, Xie Miao’er couldn’t fall asleep. She couldn’t quite explain how she was feeling. Hearing his breathing gradually steady from the floor mat, she assumed he was asleep. Moving very quietly, she lifted a corner of the curtain and sneaked a glance at him.
In the deep darkness of the night, his strong brows and thick lashes were hard to discern, like a corner of an ink painting blurred by water.
Xie Miao’er let the curtain fall back into place and returned to her own bed, finally closing her eyes.
Perhaps it was the emotional events of the day, but Xie Miao’er was utterly exhausted. She slept deeply, and when she awoke, the sun was already high in the sky.
Suddenly recalling something, Xie Miao’er sat bolt upright, quickly tidied her clothes, and lifted the curtain to get out of bed.
The floor mat was empty, without even a trace of warmth remaining.
She slipped on her house shoes and pushed the door open, running straight into the courtyard.
There was no one there. Even the sword that usually hung on the rack was gone.
The mornings after his departure were no different from any other morning when he wasn’t around, yet Xie Miao’er felt a sourness in her heart as she looked around.
He had already left.
And when he left… he hadn’t even said goodbye to her.
Yue Chuang noticed Xie Miao’er had come out with her hair unkempt and quickly said, “Mistress, let me help you freshen up.”
Xie Miao’er struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, bit her lip, and replied, “All right.”
After freshening up, Xie Miao’er sat down with a porcelain spoon to eat her porridge. The sound of the spoon clinking against the bowl was unpleasant to her ears, and it only made her more irritated.
Her mind was full of the scenes from yesterday when they ate together.
Sigh…Xie Miao’er let out a long series of sighs before gently patting her own face, trying to cheer herself up.
By the afternoon, the ever-inquisitive Yue Chuang came to Xie Miao’er with a mysterious air.
“Mistress, guess what happened to that Madam Zhang who falsely accused Young Master Lu yesterday?”
“What happened?” Xie Miao’er followed her lead.
Yue Chuang, lively and sweet-tongued as always, had already befriended nearly all the maids and servants in the Lu family. She said, “Even though Third Master isn’t home, our Third Madam isn’t one to be trifled with. Usually, she just doesn’t get provoked. This time, she gathered evidence of Madam Zhang’s crimes and sent it, along with the testimonies of the suffering parties, directly to the county court!”
“On top of that, Qian Qianhu—Madam Zhang’s own brother—has actually been fed up with her for a long time. Even though they’re siblings by blood, her spoiled son’s constant troublemaking had worn him down for years. Before, when Zhang Duan was alive, it was tolerable. But after Zhang Duan’s death, Madam Zhang kept stirring up trouble. When Qian Qianhu found out, he sent a letter to the county magistrate, saying he wouldn’t beg for his sister’s life. Apart from sparing her from execution or exile, any punishments—beatings, torture—should be carried out to teach her a lesson.”
Xie Miao’er was startled. “And then?”
Yue Chuang, now fully animated, continued her story as if she were a storyteller at a teahouse. “Then Madam Zhang was given thirty strokes with the paddle! That was even considered lenient because of Qian Qianhu’s intervention. Otherwise, it would’ve been much worse for her.”
“The county magistrate also took this opportunity to redress the grievances of the victims. Madam Zhang was carried back home after being injured, but she’ll still have to settle the karmic debts for her son’s wrongful deeds one by one.”
“This is truly her retribution for enabling her son’s evil acts,” Xie Miao’er thought, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction. She then asked Yue Chuang, “What about the others involved in the case? How did the magistrate deal with them?”
“That matchmaker, Madam Wu, turned over a new leaf and testified in court, so the magistrate spared her from punishment and only issued a warning. As for the Du family…” Yue Chuang hesitated before continuing, glancing at Xie Miao’er’s expression to gauge her reaction. “Du Dalang, who colluded with Madam Zhang, was sentenced to exile. As for Madam Du…”
Yue Chuang’s voice softened. “The magistrate took pity on her, as she had been coerced into her actions. She was given ten strokes with the paddle and sentenced to three years of hard labor.”
“Oh,” Xie Miao’er replied.
The outcome wasn’t surprising. Madam Du, unlike Madam Zhang, didn’t have an influential brother to shield her.
However, regardless of coercion, Madam Du had already committed the deeds. Xie Miao’er felt no sympathy for her.
What truly saddened her was the plight of three-year-old Xie Ying’er—her half-sister. The poor child had just lost her father not long ago, and now her mother would be sent away for hard labor.
Such is the unpredictability of life.
Xie Miao’er tried to shift her focus to other matters, doing her best to ignore the figure who had quietly left.
—
In the first two days after Lu Huaihai’s disappearance, no one in the Lu family noticed anything unusual.
After all, he had always been a bit of a maverick. Even in his younger years, when he had yet to make a name for himself, he had already dared to openly challenge his father. His absences were so frequent that they were considered routine.
But after a few more days, Madam Su realized her beloved son hadn’t returned home at all. Growing suspicious, she sent Qingzhu to check on the situation at the small courtyard on the western side.
When Qingzhu returned, she reported, “Third Madam, I inquired about it. Ever since that night when he came back from the yamen, the Young Master hasn’t visited Mistress Xie again.”
Madam Su frowned deeply—it was strange indeed.