When Zhang Zhixu returned — bathed, changed, incense burnt, and hair properly arranged — this was the scene that greeted him.
The young woman, already pale as paper from her injuries and slight as a sheet of it, was weeping pitifully in the bed, her shoulders trembling continuously, her body instinctively retreating into the corner of the mattress.
He turned and shot Jiuquan a glare: “Didn’t I tell you to watch her carefully?”
Jiuquan looked perfectly innocent: “I was watching, sir — nothing at all happened.”
Nothing happened, and yet she’s frightened like this?
Zhang Zhixu took the chair with some skepticism, and placed the elmwood box back within her reach.
Chen Baoxiang cried herself quiet, her hands finding the box — she clearly wanted to pull it toward herself, but couldn’t quite manage the strength.
He chuckled, nudging the box over and into her arms: “Pathetic.”
Jiuquan’s pupils gave an involuntary contraction.
Sun the Medicine Sage had once said that the master was someone who had stepped beyond the three realms and out of the five elements.
He was not particularly close to his parents or relatives, had no interest in anything, lived through each day in an empty, aimless way, and no one knew when he might simply drift away from this world.
Yet after waking from this grievous injury, the master seemed to have suddenly developed emotions.
He had rushed urgently to the prison to rescue someone. He had used his authority ruthlessly to force the northern city prison to yield. He had felt pain at the severity of Baoxiang’s wounds. And he had felt happiness that she still lived.
And now he was even speaking to someone with this tone — this warm scolding, like a fond reproach between people who know each other well.
It was as if — as if the long winter night had finally passed, and the bare, withered courtyard was slowly coming back to vivid, flourishing life.
Jiuquan’s throat tightened. He gripped his master’s sleeve tightly.
In the past, Zhang Zhixu would only have found such a gesture baffling.
But now, he seemed to sense what it meant. He patted Jiuquan’s arm: “You’ve all worked hard. Have Ningsu take silver from my private treasury — every servant who laboured tonight is to receive a red envelope of two liang.”
“Two liang?”
“That’s right.” Zhang Zhixu nodded. “Four thousand, eight hundred copper coins.”
Zhang Zhixu rarely thought in copper coins — in his mind, the smallest unit of money had always been one liang of silver.
But Chen Baoxiang liked to convert silver into copper, because her monthly wages were paid in copper, and that way she could work out exactly how many meals it represented, and how long she’d have to save up for it.
Four thousand, eight hundred copper coins could buy a great many pork buns for a long time — could get one through quite a few banquets hosted by wealthy households — could even buy forty-eight ordinary blades, or pay for sixteen sessions learning blade dances, or purchase eight buckets for slop collection.
Thinking of the slop-bucket and the strange series of events that had brought the two of them together, his gaze softened. He lightly brushed the hair back from Chen Baoxiang’s face.
Get well. There is a world of extraordinary fortune waiting for you.
“By the way.” He asked Jiuquan, “What is Cheng Huaili’s reaction?”
Jiuquan replied quietly: “He had no proper grounds to imprison Baoxiang in the first place, so naturally he has nothing to say. But they say now that he’s heard you’ve woken, he’s been building his nerve to enter the palace tomorrow.”
Most likely he intended to press the new emperor again to investigate the assassination attempt at the Burning Tail Banquet — but the new emperor would not pursue the matter further. He wanted only to smooth things over between the Zhang and Cheng households.
Zhang Zhixu stifled a yawn, then lightly patted the sleeping Chen Baoxiang: “Jiuquan, bring a quilt — I’ll sleep on the small couch beside her.”
“Ah?”
Jiuquan shook his head repeatedly. “Master, that couch is both small and hard — how could you possibly sleep on it?”
What of it? It was cleaner and more comfortable than the small bed in the Pei family’s guest room.
As long as Chen Baoxiang was within his sight and he could ensure she wouldn’t get into any more trouble — he could sleep soundly.
He insisted that his own soft pillow and embroidered quilt be brought over, and Zhang Zhixu closed his eyes without even the slightest fuss about the unfamiliar bed. This left Jiuquan stunned into a daze, crouching watch at the bedside, keeping guard at the edge of the frame for fear the master might roll off in his sleep.
By the time Chen Baoxiang woke again, the sky was already fully bright.
She stared blankly at the embroidered canopy above her head for a good while before murmuring: “The gold-thread embroidery on this thing is simply gorgeous.”
Something to one side of the bed stirred, and then a voice offered: “That is the full extent of your taste.”
She startled, and managed to turn her head toward the sound — then let out another little gasp of wonder: “What a radiant, lovely person — have I arrived in the Moon Palace?”
Zhang Zhixu felt the tips of his ears flush red at this entirely unexpected, overblown compliment.
He said irritably: “Clearly the fever has gone to her head — she’s already talking nonsense. Jiuquan, give her the medicine.”
Jiuquan carried the medicine that had been prepared and waiting — but before he reached the bedside, Zhang Zhixu stopped him.
“Never mind — I’ll do it. This person is very difficult to handle.” He muttered to himself as he stood, taking the medicine bowl and settling beside her on the bed.
A moment ago, Chen Baoxiang had still been a little dazed and couldn’t quite place the face before her. But as it drew nearer, her consciousness slowly pulled back together.
“You look……” She drew a quiet breath. “You look just like the second young master of the Zhang family, the one who lies in bed and can’t move.”
The person across from her smiled without warmth and moved the corners of his mouth: “The one who lies in bed and can’t move right now is you. Open your mouth.”
A spoonful was pushed into her mouth. Chen Baoxiang choked and coughed, and the movement pulled at the injuries all over her body, finally bringing a sharp edge of pain.
With the pain came greater clarity. She stared at him, coughing without stop: “Zhang — you — Zhang Zhixu.”
“Some discernment, at least.” Zhang Zhixu scooped up another spoonful. “Finish this first.”
Chen Baoxiang was alarmed into a fresh round of coughing and choking — how could she possibly drink the medicine now?
In her heart she cried out: Great Immortal — save me, Great Immortal — Zhang Zhixu is awake. Is our scheme about to come to light — the silver we tricked him out of, the great house we occupied, even pretending to be his woman?