Shen Xiabai’s gaze landed on a carriage full of brocade boxes and the scattered bottles and jars that had fallen out. He was silent for a moment.
“There’s a saying, ‘Many a little makes a mickle.’ Don’t you understand?” Cui Yunchu pouted.
To him, perhaps this entire carriage of items was nothing but junk, not even worth a single one of his pearls. But to her, it was already a considerable fortune.
“I got these by enduring grievances. They’re not junk.”
Shen Xiabai frowned slightly, his drunken, hazy eyes sharpening with clarity. “What grievances? Who made you suffer?”
Cui Yunchu turned her face away and didn’t answer. Instead, she asked him, “Where are you going? The Shen residence?”
Shen Xiabai stared at her and replied, “The bridge beneath Wangyue Tower.”
Cui Yunchu froze for a moment, instinctively turning to look at him, then hastily looked away. “What are you going there for?”
“To pick up junk.”
“…”
Cui Yunchu instructed the driver to head to the bridge beneath Wangyue Tower, then huddled in the corner without a word.
Her mind was entirely occupied with the pearl she would get once she safely delivered him to his destination.
It was a pity someone had bitten into it, otherwise it would have fetched a good price.
“Why did the Princess An compensate you?”
“Because she pitied me.”
Shen Xiabai gazed at her. “Pitied you for what?”
“For being pitiable in every way, naturally.”
“…” That wasn’t what Shen Xiabai wanted to ask. What he really wanted to know was what grievance she had suffered today at Prince An’s residence.
His eyes fell on her soft, pink lips, and his fingertips tightened slightly. His lazy posture, leaning against the carriage wall, grew taut.
Neither of them mentioned it, as if it had never happened. Yet both knew in their hearts—like a sealed jar of green wine, quietly fermenting, waiting to release its rich, intoxicating aroma.
“I have many luminous pearls. Tell me, and I’ll give you another one.”
Cui Yunchu lifted her eyelids to glance at him. “One that’s been bitten isn’t worth much.”
“…”
The carriage stopped by the bridge. Cui Yunchu reached out her hand to him. “I’ve delivered you safely to your destination. Give me the pearl, and you can get off now.”
“What I said was ‘safely back to the residence,’” Shen Xiabai said, raising an eyebrow.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to come here?” Cui Yunchu’s eyes widened.
Shen Xiabai nodded. “Yes. So your task isn’t finished yet, and I can’t give you the reward now.”
“##”
“What did you say?” Shen Xiabai squinted.
“I didn’t catch that. Did you?” Cui Yunchu spread her hands.
Under her client’s insistence, Cui Yunchu helped the unsteady Shen Xiabai down from the carriage.
She looked around, her eyes landing on the spot where they had sat before. Someone had laid a thick, soft cushion there.
Shen Xiabai walked over, standing with his hands behind his back. His tall, straight silhouette stretched long and broad in the glow of the setting sun.
Cui Yunchu lowered her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Shen Xiabai didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “That night’s fireworks were set off by Prince An for Princess An.”
Cui Yunchu already knew that.
Shen Xiabai lifted his gaze to a tall building. “They were up there at the time—the best view in all of the capital.”
Cui Yunchu followed his gaze, then looked away again.
It had nothing to do with her.
“But sitting here, I still saw them.”
That day, she had said, “You can’t always cover my eyes.”
Even from a low place, she could still see.
Shen Xiabai turned to glance at her. “You can see from a low place too. Fireworks don’t have to be set off for those on high.”
Cui Yunchu’s expression froze, stunned.
In her daze, fireworks suddenly burst into the sky, their colorful light illuminating the man’s sharp, handsome profile—his bone structure indescribably exquisite.
He tilted his head, looking at her, and said something. Cui Yunchu didn’t catch it.
“What did you say?”
The man smiled faintly, then pressed his hand on the back of her neck, gently forcing her to turn back and look up at the sky.
The fireworks blazed brightly, filling her vision with color. Around them, the chatter and laughter of the common folk rose as they stopped to gaze upward.
Cui Yunchu didn’t blink.
So this was what it felt like—to be treated with sincerity by someone.
She couldn’t name the feeling in her heart, but when the emotion faded, all that remained was guilt.
She knew his feelings. She understood his intentions. She had manipulated him, used him, and approached him without any pretense, yet she played dumb, refusing to address anything deeper.
Was it him she wanted? Or was it the feeling of being liked, of being cared for?
She was afraid that, in all the world, no one would ever love her again.
Cui Yunchu’s heart wavered for a moment. She looked away, daring not to watch any longer.
Shen Xiabai turned his head to look at her. “Don’t you like it?”
That night, she had watched the fireworks with envy in her eyes. She had said it didn’t matter if no one set them off for her—no one could cover her eyes.
If no one loved her, that was fine too. She could sneak glances at what others had.
“No.” Cui Yunchu’s smile was forced. “Who’s so bored they set off fireworks before it’s even dark?”
She laughed, but her hands and feet fidgeted nervously, flailing about.
“It’s getting late. I still have to rush home for dinner. Are you going back or not? Anyway, I think you’ve sobered up enough now. Forget it—I don’t need the pearl. You can go back on your own. I’ll be off now.”
Fireworks bloomed behind her. She turned to leave, but her arm was suddenly grabbed.
Cui Yunchu’s steps froze. She didn’t move.
Shen Xiabai’s deep eyes gazed at her.
Time ticked by, as if freezing the two of them in place. Everything around them—people and objects—rushed past, leaving only their outlines and the look in their eyes.
“You’re right,” Shen Xiabai said quietly after a long moment. “It really is boring.”
He let her go and walked toward the carriage.
Cui Yunchu stood frozen, unmoving.
A man carrying a bamboo basket suddenly approached Shen Xiabai. “Sir and his lady make a perfect match. How about a portrait to remember the occasion?”
Shen Xiabai ignored him.
“Sir, take a look. My painting skills are excellent. I’m sure the lady will be pleased. See for yourself.”
Shen Xiabai’s gaze drifted carelessly over the painting in the man’s hands.
Then, he stopped abruptly. His eyes returned to the painting, fixed on the pair of men and women leaning on each other.
The man chuckled. “I painted this one by chance the other day. That couple was on this very bridge—right where you and the lady were sitting.”
He pointed it out to Shen Xiabai. “Look at the young lady here, sir. Handsome man, beautiful woman—a match made in heaven. Someone once offered a high price for this, but I wouldn’t sell. If you have a portrait done, I guarantee the lady will be satisfied.”
Shen Xiabai said nothing. He just stared at the painting, unblinking.
The woman’s eyes were slightly closed, her head resting quietly on the man’s shoulder, carrying a trace of sorrow and faint grievance.
The man’s gaze was far less clear than the woman’s—sharp, with a cold edge, the softness deeply buried, almost imperceptible.
Cui Yunchu had already walked over.
He quickly took the painting from the man’s hands, rolled it up, and held it in his palm.
Cui Yunchu: “…”
What was the hurry? Was there gold in it?
“My painting . . .” the man said hurriedly.
Shen Xiabai, generous with his wealth, declared, “I’m taking this painting.”
He pulled a luminous pearl from his chest and handed it to the man.
Cui Yunchu's eyes flew wide as she immediately lunged forward to grab it. "That pearl is mine. Give it back."
Shen Xiabai held her back with one hand. The man weighed the pearl in his hand, glanced at the furious and flailing Cui Yunchu, muttered a quick "Thank you, honored guest," and then turned and bolted out of sight.
All their earlier talk of refusing to sell even at a high price was completely forgotten.
"Shen Xiabai." Cui Yunchu's heart was bleeding; she was shaking with fury.
"That pearl was mine." After toiling so patiently, swallowing her pride, and accompanying him for half the day, he had just handed it over to a stranger.
"You can walk back on your own!" she snapped.
Shen Xiabai did not argue, only held tightly to the scroll in his hand.
Cui Yunchu took a few steps, then turned back and extended her hand.
"No," he said.
"That was traded for my pearl!" She wanted to see what he had gotten in exchange for her night-luminous gem.
Shen Xiabai hid the scroll behind his back.
Even more furious, Cui Yunchu turned and stormed onto the carriage.
Inside the carriage, Xing'er saw them return and quickly shrank her head back down.
The driver drove on to the Shen estate.
In front of the Shen estate, just as one carriage came to a stop, a figure in a pink dress rushed over.
Shen Zilan, thinking he had encountered a ghost in the dead of night, only after hurriedly stepping aside did he recognize Chen Miaohe's face.
"What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't get into the Ministry of Personnel, so I had to wait for you here," Chen Miaohe said, frantic with worry. "Shen Zilan, I'm in huge trouble. In the name of our betrothal, you have to help me!"
