Pei Ying was a beat slower than Huo Tingshan, so the words "General, an old acquaintance has come to see you" stuck in her throat.
Huo Tingshan seemed to have urgent matters at hand. After uttering those words, he continued striding inward without pause.
"Brother Junze..."
A soft, disbelieving feminine voice made Huo Tingshan halt once more.
The man turned his head. His eyes and thick brows were dark as tempered iron, cold and unyielding. His gaze swept over the young woman beside Pei Ying before settling on her for several long moments. His brow twitched slightly.
Seeing him finally look her way, Cheng Chanyi offered a bitter smile, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Brother Junze, don’t you recognize me anymore?"
"Grand General," Gongsun Liang murmured a quiet reminder from behind.
"Miss Cheng, it’s been a long time." Huo Tingshan gave a curt greeting before turning to Pei Ying. "Madam, I have pressing matters to attend to. Please entertain our guest in my stead."
Without waiting for Pei Ying’s response, he strode off, his entourage swiftly disappearing into the inner halls.
Pei Ying stole a glance at Cheng Chanyi and felt a headache brewing at the woman’s expression. She had initially planned to let Huo Tingshan handle his own guest upon his return, but now the atmosphere had grown even more awkward than before.
What a mess he’d left for her to clean up.
Suppressing her irritation, Pei Ying forced a gentle smile. "My surname is Pei. How may I address you, madam?"
Marriages happened early these days—most women wed soon after their coming-of-age ceremony. Given that Cheng Chanyi appeared around her own age, she was likely already married.
"My surname is Cheng, and my childhood name is Chanyi. You may simply call me Chanyi." Cheng Chanyi seemed to have regained some composure, her earlier stiffness fading. "I apologize for intruding upon you today. But with the chaos of war spreading, refugees are everywhere, and my previous shelter no longer exists. When I heard by chance that Brother Junze was stationed here, I... I couldn’t help but come, thinking of the past. I’ve shamelessly sought his protection."
Xin Jin frowned inwardly.
When she first arrived, she had claimed it was merely a visit. Now it had turned into a plea for shelter?
The two were worlds apart—the latter implied a long-term stay.
Pei Ying noted the maidservant accompanying Cheng Chanyi and the fine silk of her flowing cloud-patterned dress. Clearly, she either came from wealth or had married into a prominent family.
"To be frank, Madam Cheng, I cannot make decisions regarding matters of protection," Pei Ying said.
Cheng Chanyi’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected Pei Ying to outright decline after her heartfelt appeal.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, Pei Ying continued, "Though the General asked me to entertain you, I am not the mistress of this household. The final say rests with him."
If the familiar address of "Brother Junze" had only given Pei Ying a faint premonition, Cheng Chanyi’s mention of losing her shelter and reminiscing about the past confirmed it—this was no simple social call.
She had come for Huo Tingshan. Whether it was for the man himself, his power, or both, Pei Ying couldn’t be sure. But this Madam Cheng undoubtedly shared history with him—be it romantic or otherwise—and their connection ran deep.
A lone woman seeking refuge with an unrelated man, especially one tied to her past, would inevitably lead to certain... developments. Things would flow naturally, then become inseparable.
After all, arrangements like Pei Ying’s—purely transactional—were likely rare.
This was a private matter, and Pei Ying considered herself little more than a privileged guest here. It wasn’t her place to interfere.
Moreover, though fleeting, she had sensed hostility from Cheng Chanyi earlier. The woman might have misunderstood their relationship.
That made it even more inappropriate.
Best to clarify things now and let them sort it out among themselves—without dragging her into it.
Having deftly passed the responsibility back where it belonged, Pei Ying wasn’t surprised to see Cheng Chanyi momentarily stunned before breaking into a genuine smile.
Pei Ying smiled graciously and gestured for tea to be served.
As the tea poured smoothly, the tension in the hall finally eased.
Cheng Chanyi gave Pei Ying a small smile. "Since I left to marry in Xuzhou, it’s been fifteen years since I last saw Brother Junze. Though he carries himself more imposingly now, he hasn’t changed much otherwise."
Pei Ying feigned surprise. "Fifteen years?"
That was enough time to raise a child as old as her own daughter.
Cheng Chanyi’s eyes glimmered. "Yes, so long... and yet when I think of those days, it feels as though it were yesterday."
Her delicately arched willow-leaf brows dipped slightly, tears welling in her lovely eyes. "Brother Junze was my father’s disciple. He watched me grow up. It’s my fault for being foolish back then—I refused the betrothal and let him down."
As she finished speaking, her eyes lowered, and two clear trails of tears unexpectedly fell.
Pei Ying was inwardly startled.
This woman was not merely her mentor’s daughter—she was also his former fiancée?
Pei Ying carefully chose her words: "Madam Cheng, there’s no need for sorrow. What’s past is past, but the future still holds promise. One must look forward."
Cheng Chanyi studied Pei Ying for a long moment before lifting a handkerchief to dab her tear-streaked eyes. "You speak wisely, Madam Pei. Thank you for your kindness. On my journey here to seek Brother Junze, I was filled with unease. After so many years, it’s easy for things—and people—to change. Fortunately, Brother Junze still recognizes me."
Pei Ying was not naturally talkative, and having only met Cheng Chanyi today, she found little else to discuss once the topic ended.
Sitting in silence felt awkward, so after a moment’s thought, she suggested, "Madam Cheng, shall we take a stroll in the rear garden?"
Cheng Chanyi readily agreed.
As Pei Ying rose from her seat, her white mink fur coat parted slightly, revealing a glimpse of radiant crimson silk beneath. The fabric was exquisitely fine, its collar embroidered with rolling-cloud patterns that shimmered like a flowing painting under the light.
Cheng Chanyi’s grip on her handkerchief tightened.
Shu brocade—it was Shu brocade.
Her former mother-in-law had come from a prestigious family in the capital, her dowry overflowing with jewels and jade, yet even she had struggled to acquire Shu brocade. Only three bolts had ever graced their household, all hoarded away by the matriarch herself, never shared with the daughters-in-law.
And yet, here was Madam Pei, treating what her former mother-in-law had treasured as a rare luxury with such casual indifference.
Was it genuine nonchalance—or deliberate ostentation?
Unaware of Cheng Chanyi’s gaze, Pei Ying led the way to the garden, her thoughts drifting to Huo Tingshan’s meeting. She hoped it would conclude by the time they returned.
A cold breeze swept past, and Pei Ying shivered, instinctively reaching to pull her coat tighter—only to freeze mid-motion.
The wind had jolted her memory.
Just before they left the Governor’s residence, Huo Tingshan had summoned gardeners to uproot every rare flower and plant from the rear garden, shipping them all back to Youzhou. Now, the garden stood barren.
The recent chill had kept her indoors, and she’d momentarily forgotten.
"Madam Pei?" Cheng Chanyi noticed her pause.
With a quiet sigh, Pei Ying admitted, "The general recently had all the flowers transported back to Youzhou. Now, the garden holds little more than rockeries—hardly worth viewing."
Cheng Chanyi’s eyes widened. "Brother Junze moved the flowers to Youzhou? Since when did he care for them so deeply?"
Pei Ying hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Noticing her averted gaze, Cheng Chanyi’s heart sank slightly. After a beat, she softened her expression. "Brother Junze has always been devoted to those close to him. I remember when my father was still his teacher—once, a dispute broke out between his sworn brother and a rival faction in the city. After his brother was struck, Brother Junze rallied their friends and retaliated. The feud escalated over days until the elders finally intervened."
Pei Ying’s thoughts drifted momentarily.
He must have hurled taunts during the fight, fueling the conflict until it demanded parental mediation.
"Madam Pei," Cheng Chanyi asked gently, "is your brother one of Brother Junze’s subordinates?"
"No," Pei Ying answered.
The moment the word left her lips, she turned to Cheng Chanyi—and sure enough, the woman’s probing gaze deepened.
A flicker of weariness and irritation stirred in Pei Ying.
In social interactions, overstepping boundaries was a grave misstep. She had already offered Cheng Chanyi the reassurance of "the future still holds promise," yet the woman persisted in testing her.
Choosing silence, Pei Ying tightened her coat and continued walking.
When Pei Ying remained quiet, Cheng Chanyi spoke again. "Are you from Youzhou, Madam Pei?"
"No. My ancestral home is Jizhou."
Cheng Chanyi sighed nostalgically. "Jizhou is a fine place—much warmer than Youzhou. Xuzhou is similarly mild. When I first married there from Youzhou, I found it pleasant. But after a year or two, I grew restless. One’s heart always yearns for home, where memories from childhood to youth linger. Such treasures aren’t easily forgotten."
Pei Ying nodded. "You speak truly, Madam Cheng."
Cheng Chanyi studied her closely, surprised by her serene composure. Beneath her calm demeanor, vigilance sharpened.
This woman had remarkable self-possession.
The Governor’s estate was vast. By the time Pei Ying led Cheng Chanyi back to the main hall, nearly two hours had passed, and the dinner hour approached.
"Xin Jin, go ask the guard at the study where the general plans to have lunch today," Pei Ying instructed Xin Jin.
Xin Jin replied, "As you wish."
Just as Xin Jin was about to leave, Pei Ying called her back.
Pei Ying added, "Ling'er should be done with her lessons by now. Tell her to join us for lunch in the main hall. It's cold today, so we'll have hot pot. Have the kitchen prepare extra meat dishes."
Xin Jin acknowledged the order.
Cheng Chanyi's breath tightened slightly, her handkerchief crumpled beyond recognition in her grip.
She had actually borne Huo Tingshan a daughter out of wedlock?
Well, of course—without a child to secure her position, how could she carry herself with such ease?
Xin Jin returned shortly after. "Madam, the general said he will join you in the main hall for lunch and will arrive shortly. The young mistress just finished her riding lesson and is changing now. She’ll be here soon as well."
Pei Ying nodded. "Good."
A sudden constriction gripped Cheng Chanyi's chest, leaving her breathless and unsettled—how absurd.
Since when did young noblewomen learn horseback riding? And Huo Tingshan actually indulged such whims?
After Pei Ying's words, silence settled over the main hall once more.
She said nothing further, and this time, Cheng Chanyi didn’t attempt to initiate conversation either.
Just as the servants finished setting up the hot pot, Meng Ling'er arrived.
She was dressed more lightly than Pei Ying, without a fur cloak. The young girl wore an embroidered ruqun adorned with a hundred flowers, the patterns on her skirt shimmering as she moved, lending her an air of delicate elegance and luxury.
Cheng Chanyi stared at Meng Ling'er’s dress for a moment, her fingers clutching the embroidered handkerchief so tightly they grew numb. Her resolve hardened further.
As Meng Ling'er approached, Pei Ying introduced her. "Ling'er, this is Madam Cheng."
Meng Ling'er performed a respectful curtsy, which Cheng Chanyi returned.
The main hall had two seats at the head and one each to the left and right.
With an outsider present, Meng Ling'er refrained from clinging to Pei Ying and instead took her place properly at the left seat.
Not long after, Huo Tingshan arrived.
His footsteps, when not deliberately softened, were steady and even, each step measured and firm.
Seeing him approach from the side corridor, Cheng Chanyi quickly rose and curtsied.
Pei Ying hesitated briefly before exchanging a glance with her daughter and standing as well.
Huo Tingshan noticed Pei Ying’s rare formality and smiled faintly.
Today, she seemed willing to observe the proprieties with him.
"No need for such courtesy," Huo Tingshan said.
Cheng Chanyi looked up just in time to catch the slight curve of his lips, her heartbeat quickening. "Brother Junze, who would have thought fifteen years would pass since we last met?"
Huo Tingshan nodded. "Time indeed flies. Let’s sit and talk over the meal."
Cheng Chanyi pressed her lips into a smile and was about to respond when her gaze inadvertently dropped—and froze.
Hanging from the man’s belt was a gray pouch, simple in design, with only a plump little mandarin duck embroidered on the front.
Round-headed, round-bodied, and frankly rather ugly upon closer inspection, the stitching was crude at best.
If there was one redeeming quality about the pouch, it was the expensive fabric used.
Huo Tingshan took his seat at the head of the table.
The hot pot simmered, its fragrant broth wafting through the air as Pei Ying added slices of meat. Then, the man beside her asked, "Younger Sister Cheng, if I recall correctly, you married into another region. Are you returning to Youzhou to visit family?"
Cheng Chanyi’s eyes lowered, her voice tinged with a barely perceptible sob. "Brother Junze, to be honest, my husband passed away unexpectedly two years ago. Later, my brother-in-law also died. The Jiang family is now solely supported by the younger uncle of the second branch, but he lacks talent and struggles even with his own household’s affairs. He couldn’t possibly manage the first branch’s affairs as well, so my mother-in-law decided to dismiss all of the first branch’s dependents. Since I bore no heirs for the Jiang family, she sent me back to my own family along with the other concubines."
The Great Chu dynasty placed great emphasis on filial piety, governing the realm through the virtue of "filial duty." The weight of this principle was such that laws even decreed: "If a child accuses their parents, a wife accuses her in-laws, or a servant accuses their master or the master’s family, the case shall not be heard, and the accuser shall be executed in the marketplace."
Among these statutes, one stated that if children sued their parents, not only would the case be dismissed, but the accuser would also face capital punishment.
However, in matters of marriage, Great Chu was far less rigid than previous dynasties. Widows were permitted to remarry—even multiple times.
Neither widows nor widowers were required to remain chaste for their deceased spouses; they could remarry freely. To some extent, this was a measure to encourage population growth.
Thus, Huo Tingshan wasn’t surprised to hear that the matriarch had dismissed an entire branch of the family—some declining noble households did so to cut expenses.
"My condolences," Huo Tingshan said.
Beside him, Pei Ying had already begun eating, the meat and seasonings simmering together, rich with flavor.
Pei Ying picked up a pork meatball with her chopsticks, took two small bites, then stopped with difficulty. After forcing down the swallow, she didn’t touch the meatballs again.
The stench of uncastrated pork was overwhelming. Even boiling it in the hotpot could only mask the odor temporarily—once the spices faded, the pungent gaminess surged back.
Pei Ying couldn’t help but recall her past conversation with Huo Tingshan about castrating pigs. Back then, she had suggested he raise pigs, as castrated ones grew faster and lacked the foul smell. But at the time, he had refused, citing a lack of surplus grain to feed them.
Now, Pei Ying mused that in at most a year, once the wheat harvest came in and households had ample grain, pigs would have to be raised. After all, mutton didn’t suit her palate, beef was scarce, and eating fish at every meal wasn’t sustainable.
Half her mind lingered on pig farming, while the rest split further—partly on her meal, and a sliver on the conversation around her.
The discussion unfolded as she expected: reminiscing about the past and baring sentimental feelings. Cheng Chanyi did most of the talking, with Huo Tingshan interjecting occasionally.
Huo Tingshan wore an unchanging smile, his fingers tapping idly on the low table.
They had met earlier that morning. At first, he assumed Cheng Chanyi was merely passing through Jizhou on a visit home and had stopped by upon learning he was here. But as their conversation dragged on, he realized that wasn’t the case.
He had known many women, and those who fancied him always had a certain look—shy yet burning with hidden desire. Now, that same gaze belonged to the only daughter of his former mentor.
In the past, a woman like this—fair-faced, once nearly wed to him, and the daughter of Master Cheng—would have been a welcome addition to his household.
But now…
Huo Tingshan tilted his head slightly, his eyes flickering toward the beautiful woman beside him.
She was slowly picking at her food, her bowl filled mostly with vegetables. She had eaten some of the stir-fried meat but left the pork meatballs entirely untouched.
She was truly difficult to please—picky with food, fussy about preferences, and pouring all her cunning into scheming against him, all while counting down the days until their contract expired.
If he took Cheng Chanyi as a concubine, Pei Ying would probably laugh in her sleep that very night, then pack her bags the next day to vacate the main courtyard, claiming she was making room for the new arrival.
Dealing with her alone was headache enough, let alone with war against Bingzhou looming.
Never mind.
After casually responding to Cheng Chanyi, Huo Tingshan reached over with his own small plate, sliding a portion of fish toward Pei Ying and swiping her untouched pork meatballs in return.
Pei Ying glanced at the exchange and wrinkled her nose.
She didn’t speak, but Huo Tingshan knew exactly what she was asking.
"Since my lady won’t eat pork, why let it go to waste?" he said.
Logical and fair. Pei Ying had no retort.
Seated below them, Cheng Chanyi clenched her jaw so tightly her mandible ached.
As the meal neared its end, she softened her voice and addressed Huo Tingshan. "Brother Junze, I have an impertinent request."
Huo Tingshan tapped his fingers twice on the table. "I know what it is."
Cheng Chanyi’s lips began to curl into a bashful smile—until he continued, "With the times growing unstable, it’s unsafe for a woman to travel alone. Rest assured, I’ll arrange an escort to return you safely to Youzhou."
Her face froze. She stared at him in disbelief.
Had he truly not understood the meaning behind all her words?
If he were still a green youth parading through the streets on horseback, perhaps he might have missed her hints. But they were no longer young—surely he knew.
Why insist on sending her back?
Was he still resentful that she had once rejected the Huo family’s marriage proposal and wed into Xuzhou instead?
Her thoughts spun wildly, but she forced a smile. "Brother Junze, the journey to Jizhou was arduous. I’m exhausted in body and spirit. Might I impose on your household for a few days to rest before returning to Youzhou?"
"A small matter. Granted." Huo Tingshan turned to Pei Ying. "My lady, arrange accommodations for Miss Cheng. I’ll likely be occupied in the coming days, so I’ll leave this to you."
Pei Ying sighed inwardly. She had suddenly been handed an unenviable task—one that could easily earn her resentment. But outwardly, she nodded in agreement.
After lunch, Huo Tingshan departed in haste, true to his word of being busy.
"Mother, I’ll take my leave," Meng Ling'er said, rising from her seat.
Pei Ying acknowledged with a nod.
With permission granted, Meng Ling'er offered a curtsy to Pei Ying and Cheng Chanyi before exiting the hall.
Cheng Chanyi watched Meng Ling'er's retreating figure, her pupils suddenly contracting.
No, she isn't Huo Tingshan's daughter.
The girl looked about fifteen, likely born around the year Cheng Chanyi left Youzhou. But pregnancy takes a year, and back then, there had been no news of any concubine in Huo Tingshan's household expecting a child.
Not his daughter, yet he doted on her as if she were his own—such affection by extension.
Cheng Chanyi clenched her handkerchief tightly, recalling Pei Ying's mention that her ancestral home was in Jizhou.
Jizhou...
According to the rumors she'd gathered, Huo Tingshan had traveled from Youzhou to Jizhou in early autumn.
Could it be that they met then?
But that was merely months ago. What virtue did this Pei Ying possess to capture Huo Tingshan's heart in such a short time?
Her expression remained composed, but her mind raced with countless thoughts.
Pei Ying noticed her lingering gaze in the direction her daughter had left and frowned slightly. "Lady Cheng."
Cheng Chanyi snapped out of her reverie, lowering her eyes demurely. "What is it, my lady?"
Her submissive demeanor left Pei Ying with little to say. After listing several vacant courtyards, she finally asked, "You've already toured the estate briefly. Do any of these suit your preference?"
Cheng Chanyi replied, "Luoyun Courtyard, I suppose. It struck me as refined, and it's close to the rear garden."
Pei Ying nodded with a faint smile, unsurprised. Among the options, Luoyun Courtyard was the nearest to the main residence.
Cheng Chanyi sighed softly, a trace of melancholy in her voice. "In this household, you're the only one close to my age whom I know. May I ask where you reside? I’d like to visit for tea or conversation in my leisure time."
Pei Ying's brow twitched slightly. Under Cheng Chanyi's expectant gaze, she finally answered, "...I live in the main residence."
Cheng Chanyi paused, then raised her handkerchief to her lips with a light laugh. "Huo Tingshan treats you so well."
Pei Ying didn’t respond, only offering a silent smile.
In the following days, Cheng Chanyi kept true to her word, frequently visiting Pei Ying—day after day in the main residence.
Their conversations ranged from embroidery techniques to the customs of Xuzhou and Youzhou, and inevitably, Cheng Chanyi's recollections of Huo Tingshan from her own perspective.
Pei Ying endured these forced exchanges, watching as Cheng Chanyi spent entire afternoons with her. She felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman’s obvious exhaustion.
Day after day, Cheng Chanyi came waiting—yet never once crossed paths with Huo Tingshan. Her longing was palpable.
One afternoon, Pei Ying retreated to her daughter’s courtyard after lunch, napping there and lingering before finally returning.
Cheng Chanyi arrived as usual, only to find the main residence empty. Unwilling to leave without trying, she decided to wait.
It was then that Huo Tingshan returned.
His footsteps were unhurried as he entered, and upon spotting a slender figure in the courtyard, he initially assumed it was Pei Ying basking in the sun. "Today, my lady has shed some of her laziness and actually moved from her nest—"
He stopped mid-sentence, realizing the figure wasn’t Pei Ying.
Cheng Chanyi turned, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Huo Tingshan."
His brows lifted slightly. "Why are you here, Lady Cheng?"
Her mind replayed his earlier words—so casual, so unlike the stern man she remembered. She could hardly believe he spoke so playfully to a woman.
Ignoring his question, a single tear slipped down her cheek. "Huo Tingshan, do you resent me for not accepting the marriage proposal with the Huo family back then? I had no choice—my mother’s family was in trouble in Xuzhou, and we needed the Jiang Manor’s influence. My heart was yours, but I couldn’t abandon my kin."
Huo Tingshan replied indifferently, "There’s nothing to resent. Back then, I was a widower, not yet a governor. The Jiang Manor was a better match for you."
Her tears fell like broken pearls. "Huo Tingshan, I’ve left the Jiang Manor now—with nowhere to go. For the sake of our past, could you grant me a place to stay?"
"Unfortunately, I’ve made a vow recently—to abstain from women." He turned, spotting Pei Ying attempting to slip away unnoticed. A faint smirk curled his lips as he called out, "Isn’t that right, my lady?"
