Shi Yuanzhi broke off halfway through his sentence when he realized that Shi Huai’s face looked completely different from yesterday’s.
No—not different. Every feature had become more refined, so exquisite that he no longer looked quite like a person should.
“Father, what’s wrong with my face?” Shi Huai touched his cheek, looking utterly innocent.
Shi Yuanzhi opened his mouth. He wanted to say, “Your face is so beautiful it’s outrageous,” but the words went round and round in his mind and refused to come out.
He was a grown man in his forties, after all. Telling his nine-year-old son, “You’re so pretty,” sounded wrong no matter how he thought about it.
“Never mind. It’s nothing. Eat your breakfast.” Shi Yuanzhi waved his hand and had the maid bring over another bowl of congee.
Shi Huai picked up a steamed bun and took a bite. It was a crab-roe bun, so fresh and delicious that his eyes narrowed with pleasure.
Tangerine, the orange tabby, crouched in the doorway with its neck stretched out, watching Shi Huai eat. It meowed and meowed, as if saying, “I want some too.”
Shi Huai tore off a small piece of the bun’s wrapper and tossed it over. Tangerine sniffed it, turned up its nose, and walked away.
“Cats don’t eat bun wrappers. Give it some filling,” Shi Yuanzhi offered, displaying a piece of basic practical knowledge.
Shi Huai tore off another small piece, this time with some crab roe, and threw it onto the floor. Only then did Tangerine trot over, lick it, and eat it happily.
Watching them, Shi Yuanzhi found the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile.
After finishing the crab roe, Tangerine washed its face with its paws, then sauntered over to Shi Huai’s feet and sat down beside them.
It even curled its tail around his boot, looking every bit like it was declaring, “This human belongs to me now.”
Shi Huai glanced down at the presumptuous orange cat and reached out to flick it on the head. “Tangerine, you certainly know how to pick the best spot.”
Tangerine squinted from the flick. Instead of running away, it pushed its head into Shi Huai’s palm, purring even louder than before.
Shi Yuanzhi set down his bowl and watched the interaction between the boy and the cat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t suppress his smile.
He had lived more than half his life, but he had never seen anyone whom even cats followed around.
“Father, don’t you have to go to court today?” Shi Huai raised his head. His black-and-gold eyes shimmered with specks of light in the morning sun.
Shi Yuanzhi froze under that gaze. The spoon in his hand clattered into the bowl, splashing a few drops of rice broth onto the table.
He hurriedly fished out the spoon and wiped the table with a handkerchief, his movements so flustered that he hardly looked like a marquis.
“It’s a court holiday today. I don’t have to go.”
Shi Yuanzhi coughed lightly and lifted his teacup to hide his awkwardness, only to realize that it was still empty. He set it down again with an embarrassed air.
Watching his cheap father bustle about in a panic, Shi Huai found it rather amusing.
In the past, whenever he had gone to the main courtyard to pay his respects, Shi Yuanzhi had barely bothered to lift his eyelids.
“Father, is Big Sister coming home today?” Shi Huai broke off half a bun and asked as he ate, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.
Shi Yuanzhi thought for a moment. “She should be. Doesn’t she come back to stay for a few days on the fifth and twentieth of every month? Today is the fifth.”
Shi Huai nodded without replying and lowered his head to continue eating.
At his feet, Tangerine rubbed back and forth against him, its tail swishing against the hem of his robe.
Shi Lingyi arrived in the afternoon.
She wore a goose-yellow beizi, a gold hairpin adorned with dangling pearls in her hair, and carried a small food box in one hand. A gentle, perfectly composed smile rested on her face.
As she walked along, she nodded in greeting to every maid and servant she encountered, the very picture of a virtuous and refined young lady from a noble household.
She first went to the main courtyard to pay her respects to Shi Yuanzhi and spent some time chatting with her father. Then she made her way to Madam Liu’s Qingzhi Court, where mother and daughter shut the doors and talked for nearly half an hour.
When Shi Lingyi emerged from Qingzhi Court, her smile had deepened. There was a triumphant gleam in her eyes and brows.
“Second Sister, your elder sister is back. Are you in there?” Shi Lingyi knocked on Shi Youlan’s door, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze in the third month.
Shi Youlan had been doing needlework inside. The moment she heard her sister’s voice, she tossed aside her embroidery frame and ran over, wrapping both arms around Shi Lingyi’s waist.
“Sister, you’re back! I’ve missed you so much!”
Shi Lingyi reached out and stroked her little sister’s head, her touch as gentle as if she were caressing a fragile porcelain figurine.
“I’ve missed you too. That’s why I came back as soon as I had the time. Here, I brought you some pastries from the Shen residence. Have a taste.”
The sisters entered the room hand in hand, their laughter and conversation drifting out through the windows. It sounded warm and affectionate.
Shi Huai knew nothing of this, however, because his friends had called him out for a hunting expedition.
A spring breeze brushed past the willow branches, while several sparrows hopped about on the limbs, chirping away as though gossiping about something.
Outside the racetrack fence, several young men had already mounted their horses. They were laughing and teasing one another, kicking up clouds of dust.
Xie Zhaolin galloped straight toward Shi Huai and reined in before him. Looking down from atop his horse, he wore a teasing smile.
“Young Master Shi, you’ve finally decided to come. We were all starting to think you planned to spend the rest of your life as a bookworm in the marquis’s residence.”
Shi Huai raised his head and squinted up at the man on horseback.
Xie Zhaolin wore a sapphire-blue riding outfit, a black leather belt cinched around his waist, and deerskin boots on his feet. His whole person radiated youthful vigor.
His features could hardly be called striking, but he possessed the exuberant vitality unique to young men, like a poplar growing wildly in the wind.
“Brother Xie, you jest. Staying at home for too long really does get stifling. It’s good to come out and get some fresh air.”
Shi Huai’s voice was clear and mellow, like warm jade polished smooth by a mountain stream—soft enough to make one’s ears tingle.
Xie Zhaolin lowered his head to look at Shi Huai’s face. The morning light fell across skin so pale it was almost translucent, tracing features so exquisite they hardly seemed real.
His breath caught slightly, and his fingers tightened around the reins before he even realized it.
“Y-you look even better than before, don’t you?”
Xie Zhaolin’s voice came out a little unsteadily. He stared at Shi Huai without blinking, as though gazing at a painting that had somehow come to life.
Shi Huai smiled, the expression like ripples spreading across a lake beneath a spring breeze—enough to make anyone’s heart race.
“Brother Xie, stop teasing me. Didn’t we come here to hunt? Let’s go.”
He swung himself onto his horse in one smooth motion. His ink-black hair streamed out in the wind before settling again, like a bolt of silk unfurling in the air.
The few boys behind them were completely spellbound. They had even let their reins go slack without realizing it, while their horses lowered their heads and grazed on their own.
The young master Zhao Huan of the Duke of Zhao’s household was the first to recover. He coughed loudly and cleared his throat.
“Shi Huai, how good are you at riding? Would you like me to lead your horse?”
Zhao Huan was eleven years old, two years older than Shi Huai, though they were about the same height.
With his thick eyebrows and large eyes, and two deep dimples that appeared whenever he smiled, he looked every bit like a child who had been doted on by his family.
“No need. I can ride by myself.” Shi Huai tugged on the reins, adjusted his posture, and gently squeezed the horse’s sides with his legs.
The horse obediently started forward, ambling along at an unhurried pace. Its hooves pressed shallow prints into the sandy soil.
Zhao Huan rode up beside him, his eyes darting toward Shi Huai’s face every so often. Each time, he would quickly look away—only to steal another glance a moment later. The dimples in his cheeks deepened and faded by turns.
