It was already Hai hour (9-11 PM), but the Qi residence in Tianshui Lane was still brightly lit. Servants holding lanterns occasionally stepped out the front door to peer into the distance. Suddenly, they noticed a procession of carriages and horses approaching from afar. The lantern-bearers craned their necks and raised their lights to get a better look. Upon recognizing a familiar figure, their faces immediately lit up with joy.
“He’s here, he’s here!”
The middle-aged man standing at the front turned around and instructed those behind him, “Quick, go inform the Old Madam that the young master has returned!” He himself hurried forward to greet the arriving party. As the carriage came to a stop, he promptly bowed and addressed the person inside, “Young Master.”
“Cheng Bo.”
A hand emerged from the carriage, and this time the curtain was drawn wider, revealing the interior of the carriage.
Inside were a tea table, a solitary lamp, a few unfinished official documents, and an inkstone with ink that had not yet fully dried. A young man dressed in gray sat alone to one side, looking at the middle-aged man with a hint of helplessness. “I told you I would be returning late. There was no need to wait up for me.”
“You’ve been away for so long this time. The Old Madam couldn’t sleep knowing you were coming back. How could we, your servants, simply go to bed?” Cheng Bo was one of the few remaining old retainers who had stayed with the Qi family through their hardships. Now in charge of all the household affairs, he personally stepped forward to hold the carriage curtain and assist the young man down, not waiting for Yunkuo and the others to arrive.
Seeing the young man shake his head, Cheng Bo stood quietly to the side. Only after the young man had stepped down from the carriage using the footstool did he casually ask, “Did everything go smoothly on your trip this time, Young Master?”
“Yes, nothing major happened. It was the same as before,” Qi Yubai replied, instrucTing Yunkuo to tidy up the official documents. He then turned to Cheng Bo and added, “I bought some local specialties. Aside from those for Grandmother, you can distribute the rest later.”
“Understood.”
Cheng Bo responded with a smile.
As he gazed at the young man’s cool and composed features under the moonlight, Cheng Bo’s eyes were filled with unconcealed affection. His young master might appear aloof, but in reality, he was deeply kind-hearted. Since childhood, he had always handled matters with care, never giving anyone cause for worry.
Even as a young child, he had managed to protect the Old Madam.
The only thing that caused concern was that, now at the age of twenty-one, he still had not married.
Thinking of this, Cheng Bo couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
Such a fine young man, with no flaws to speak of—why was he unwilling to marry? He wanted to say a few words on the matter, but remembering that the Old Madam was waiting inside for the young master, he held his tongue. After all, even if he didn’t bring it up, the Old Madam surely would.
Cheng Bo escorted the young master to the Moon Gate but did not enter further.
The Qi residence was a two-courtyard house, neither particularly large nor small by Bianjing standards. However, compared to the Qi family’s former mansion on Zhuque Street, which had its own pavilions and water features, it was significantly smaller.
Back then, the old master of the Qi family had offended the previous emperor over the issue of the crown prince’s succession, resulting in the family being punished with confiscation of their property. The old mansion had naturally been seized by the state. Over the years, the Qi family’s grandmother and grandson had relied on their own efforts to return from Jinling, gradually purchasing houses, shops, estates, and farmland. While their current lifestyle couldn’t compare to the past, it was still comfortable.
A maid held a lantern to light the way as Qi Yubai walked through the garden, past the green-tiled and blue-roofed buildings. When he reached Songzhi Courtyard and saw the silver-haired old woman waiting under the eaves, wearing a slightly worn chestnut-gold silk jacket and a headband, his expression softened.
He strode toward her, leaving the maid far behind.
Qi Yubai supported his grandmother, Madam Zhou, by the arm, his brows slightly furrowed. “Why did you come out?” Without waiting for her reply, he had someone lift the silk curtain and, while helping her inside, instructed those around him, “Prepare some hot water.”
The room was brightly lit.
Qi Yubai and his grandmother sat on the Luohan bed, which was covered with a soft cushion embroidered with the character for longevity. He lowered his head and gently massaged his grandmother’s weathered hands.
He was a man of few words.
He might not say anything particularly touching, but everything he did was filled with care and concern.
Nanny Wei brought over the hot water, intending to help the Old Madam wash her hands, but Qi Yubai took over the task instead. This was not uncommon in the Qi household, and Nanny Wei, long accustomed to it, simply stood to the side with a smile, allowing the dignified young man to wash and dry the Old Madam’s hands. As she watched, she remarked, “People outside always talk about how filial the Xu family’s descendants are, but in my opinion, they don’t hold a candle to our young master.”
“When that Old Lady Xu brags about her grandson again, you should say a few words too.”
Naturally, the Old Madam Qi was delighted by her grandson’s filial piety. The smile on her face was impossible to hide, though she pretended to grumble, “What’s the use of being filial? He’s already twenty-one and still doesn’t have a wife.”
“At his age, his grandfather already had his father.”
Hearing this, Qi Yubai knew his grandmother was starting again. He sighed inwardly, his gaze at the old woman tinged with helplessness.
“Grandmother…”
“What? Is there something wrong with what I said?”
“…No.”
“Last time, you used official duties as an excuse. Now that you’re back, you must go and meet some potential matches!”
“Yanhuan.”
At the Old Madam’s call, a gentle-looking woman stepped forward with a smile, holding several scrolls in her hands. These were the portraits of the candidates the Old Madam had carefully selected for Qi Yubai.
“These are all chosen by matchmakers with great care. Their family backgrounds and appearances are impeccable. Take a look, and if any catch your eye, I’ll arrange for you to meet them.”
Seeing that the young man beside her remained unmoved, the Old Madam resorted to her trump card. She clutched a handkerchief and began dabbing at her eyes. “The house is so cold and empty, and you’re never home. My fate is truly…”
Before she could finish, she heard her grandson sigh.
Thinking he was about to relent, the Old Madam was ready to push the scrolls toward him. But instead, he grasped the Buddhist prayer beads in his hand and said, “To be honest with you, Grandmother, there is already someone in my heart.”
The crying stopped abruptly.
The Old Madam stared at him in bewilderment. Nanny Wei and Yanhuan, both long-time servants of the Qi family, were equally stunned. They exchanged glances, seeing the surprise in each other’s eyes.
The Old Madam, recovering quickly, grabbed Qi Yubai’s arm. “Really? Who is she? Which family is she from?”
Then, with a mix of exasperation and affection, she lightly smacked his arm a few times. “You silly child, why didn’t you tell me earlier? I was so worried…” She had even started considering looking for potential male matches.
Wait!
The Old Madam seemed to remember something, and her smile faltered. She looked at her grandson’s handsome face and asked cautiously, “This person in your heart… is a woman, right?”
As soon as she finished speaking, she saw the young man’s gaze turn helpless.
“…Grandmother.”
“As long as it’s a woman!” The Old Madam breathed a sigh of relief and then began questioning him eagerly.
“It’s me who likes her,” Qi Yubai said, turning the prayer beads in his hand as he spoke. “She doesn’t know me yet. When the time is right, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Just know this—”
He sat quietly under the warm orange glow of the lamp, the light outlining his noble and refined features. His usually cool and distant expression seemed softened by the gentle radiance. The room was silent, save for his voice.
“She is a good girl.”
…
It was past Hai hour (9-11 PM).
The world was silent and still.
After coaxing his grandmother to sleep, Qi Yubai finally returned to his own courtyard.
Having bathed and changed into lighter clothing, he stood quietly by the window, gazing at the full moon above. The spring night breeze carried a biting chill, but he seemed impervious to the cold, as if lost in thought.
The speculation from earlier in the evening resurfaced in his mind.
Qi Yubai thought to himself:
She and I are probably the same.
Three years ago.
While gathering herbs for his grandmother, he had fallen off a cliff. When he woke up, his body was the same, but his soul had changed.
No one knew about this.
He had concealed it too well; even his grandmother hadn’t noticed that her grandson was different.
In his previous life, he had gone from being a man of pristine reputation to being ostracized by the scholarly elite, only to later rise to the position of prime minister, revered by thousands. Yet, the path he ultimately chose for himself was one of solitude, spending his remaining years in the company of an ancient lamp and Buddhist scriptures.
At the height of his fame, he had left his homeland, traveled through various countries, and eventually retired to a temple for quiet cultivation. He had passed away before reaching the age of forty.
He had thought that this grand dream would eventually fade away, but instead, he found himself living a second life.
To this day, Qi Yubai remembered that the first thing he did after waking up was to search for Gu Lanyin. But when he rushed from Jinling to Hangzhou, what awaited him was a scene of her wedding procession. Once again, he witnessed her marrying Xiao Ye, just as she had in his previous life.
However, unlike in his previous life—
Back then, watching her marry Xiao Ye had only stirred a small ripple in his heart. He had felt a sense of regret and melancholy, but it had also seemed inevitable. She had been betrothed to Xiao Ye since childhood, so her marrying him was only natural.
At that time, he had thought that his feelings for Gu Lanyin were merely a youthful regret, a fleeting illusion, and that he would forget her once he met someone else. But he hadn’t expected that this cup of tea from his youth would only grow stronger and more intense with time, to the point where, even knowing it was a dead end, he would still move forward without hesitation.
And in this life, watching her marry someone else—
Qi Yubai’s heart burned with anger, resentment, and unwillingness. He couldn’t understand why, if the outcome was the same, fate had allowed him to be reborn. Was the purpose of his second life simply to watch her live happily with someone else?
He had even considered rushing out and taking her away.
But in the end, reason restrained him.
Even if he rushed out, even if he told her about their past life, what good would it do? To her, he was a stranger—both in this life and the last.
He wasn’t afraid of others thinking he was mad. Just as in his previous life, he had never cared when those who once admired him turned against him. He had never relied on his reputation to define his life. Even in adversity, even when imprisoned and abandoned by all, he had remained true to himself.
But what he feared was—
…she would fear him.
He was afraid of seeing disgust, fear, or panic in her eyes.
He had assigned Zhusheng to her side not to monitor her, but simply because he couldn’t bear to lose her again.
That feeling of helplessness, of watching her perish in flames—he never wanted to experience it again.
He would wait.
Wait for her disappointment, wait for her to leave, no matter how long it took.
But he never expected… that she had also returned.
Under the eaves, a lantern painted with bamboo leaves swayed in the wind. Qi Yubai, dressed in a long robe, stood quietly by the window. His eyes were closed, his hands clasped behind his back, the Buddhist prayer beads slipping one by one through his fingers.
“Gu Lanyin.”
In the stillness of the night, when everyone was deep in sleep, he softly called her name.
“Gu Lanyin…”
The wind scattered the trailing notes of his voice, and just as the name was about to dissolve into the void, the young man stubbornly called out again, refusing to let the sound fade away. His expression was as serene as an immortal standing at the edge of an abyss, yet each utterance carried the searing heat of love and longing.