By the time Shi Huai reached the gates of the Imperial College, Qinghe was already waiting there.
She wore a blue-green sleeveless jacket and held a lantern in her hands. The orange-yellow light illuminated her anxious face. The moment she saw Shi Huai come out, her eyes lit up.
Qinghe gathered up her skirt and hurried over.
“Young Master, why did you come out so late? I was worried sick waiting for you.”
“I fell asleep for a while and woke up late.”
Shi Huai took the lantern from her hand and naturally walked ahead, lighting the path beneath their feet.
He had done this countless times. Every time Qinghe came to fetch him, he would take the lantern and walk in front so she would not step into a pothole or stumble on the stairs.
Following behind him, Qinghe watched his straight back and the soft sheen of his black hair in the lantern light. Her heart felt warm.
It was like drinking a bowl of steaming red-date and ginger tea, the warmth flowing from her throat to her stomach and then all the way to her fingertips.
Shen Jinghong stood at the gates of the Imperial College, watching the backs of Shi Huai and Qinghe as they walked toward the carriage one after the other.
He watched Shi Huai lift the carriage curtain for Qinghe. He watched as the carriage slowly disappeared into the dusk, vanishing at the far end of Chang’an Street…
He stood there for a long time without moving.
The gatekeeper came over several times to ask, “Young Master Shen, aren’t you leaving yet?” but Shen Jinghong did not hear him.
Only when a cold wind swept over and made him shiver did Shen Jinghong come back to himself, realizing that he was still wearing only a thin inner robe.
His outer robe was draped over the crook of his arm, and it still carried the faint scent of soapberries from Shi Huai.
He put on the outer robe, and the fragrance around the collar became even clearer—a clean, crisp scent that reminded him intensely of Shi Huai himself.
Clean, fresh, untouched by the dust of the world.
Shen Jinghong gathered the collar closer and drew in a deep breath, engraving that scent into the deepest part of his memory.
Inside the carriage, Qinghe tidied Shi Huai’s hair, which had been tousled by sleep, while chattering on about the affairs of the household.
“Young Master, a guest came to the residence today. He said he was your classmate. His surname is Lin—Lin Mo, I believe. He was a very refined-looking young man and brought quite a few gifts, saying he wanted to thank you for lending him a brush last time.”
Leaning against the carriage wall with his eyes closed, Shi Huai opened them at her words. He thought for a moment before remembering who Lin Mo was.
He was the exceptionally shy, delicate-looking boy in Class A—the one who almost never spoke and did not even dare look Shi Huai directly in the eye.
The last time, Shi Huai had been the one to ask Lin Mo for the use of a brush. He had not expected the boy to remember it for so long, much less come all the way to the residence to offer his thanks.
“What did he say?”
Shi Huai brushed the stray hair from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear, the movement casual yet graceful.
“He didn’t say much. He brought an inkstone and several Huzhou brushes, saying they were only a token of his appreciation and asking you to accept them. Then he left. I asked him to stay for dinner, but he refused. His face turned as red as a boiled shrimp.”
Qinghe began laughing as she spoke, thinking the boy’s bashful manner had been rather adorable.
“I had him take the gifts back as well.”
Shi Huai nodded, not giving the matter much thought.
Over the past two years at the Imperial College, he had received far too many gifts—from his classmates, from his teachers, and even from students in other classes who had secretly slipped things into his satchel.
At first, he had returned each gift personally. Later, when he could no longer keep up, he simply stopped worrying about it. In any case, he never accepted them; he always had them returned.
By the time they reached Shou’an Hall, Nanny Zhou had already prepared dinner, all of it made with Shi Huai’s favorite dishes.
Though Nanny Zhou was advanced in age, her hands and feet were still quick and nimble. Personally cooking dinner for Shi Huai was a daily habit she never failed to keep.
Before Grand Madam passed away, she had entrusted Nanny Zhou with caring for the Young Master. Nanny Zhou had not dared relax for even a single day.
“Young Master is back? Come wash your hands and eat. The sea bass is especially fresh today. I went to the market early this morning to buy it.”
Nanny Zhou placed a bowl of rice before Shi Huai. The wrinkles on her face softened in the candlelight.
Shi Huai washed his hands and sat down. He picked up a piece of steamed sea bass and put it into his mouth.
The fish was tender and perfectly steamed, with the fragrance of scallions and ginger infused into the flesh.
He narrowed his eyes as he chewed, then swallowed and gave Nanny Zhou a thumbs-up.
“Nanny Zhou, your cooking keeps getting better. It’s ten times better than the food at the restaurants outside the Imperial College.”
“Young Master certainly knows how to make an old woman happy. How could my humble cooking compare with that of the chefs outside?”
Nanny Zhou was modest with her words, but she could not suppress the smile on her face. Every wrinkle was filled with satisfaction and pride.
Nearby, Qinghe ladled soup for Shi Huai and placed it at his right hand. Then she carefully picked the bones from the fish before placing the piece into his bowl.
She performed these tasks with such effortless familiarity that they seemed like instincts carved into her very bones. There was no need for thought or hesitation.
After dinner, Shi Huai walked several laps around the courtyard to aid his digestion.
The early-autumn night breeze had already grown cool, stirring the leaves of the old locust tree in the courtyard with a rustling sound.
A few prematurely fallen leaves spiraled down through the wind and landed on the bluestone path. When stepped on, they gave off a faint crackle.
Tangerine leaped down from the wall and sauntered gracefully over to Shi Huai’s feet. The cat rubbed its head against his boot and let out a soft, syrupy “meow,” sounding very much as though it were begging for affection.
This orange cat had rubbed against Shi Huai’s feet once two years ago—and had never left Shou’an Hall after that.
It had gone from a bony stray cat to a round, plump orange tabby.
Its coat gleamed, its belly was perfectly round, and it waddled when it walked, like a pumpkin on the move.
Shi Huai bent down and scooped Tangerine into his arms. The cat immediately buried its head in the crook of his elbow, purring with contentment.
Its tail curled once around his wrist. Its chubby body shifted several times in his arms before finally finding a comfortable position.
Then it spread out like a puddle of orange water, belly up and all four paws curled against its chest, looking utterly at ease.
“Tangerine, you’ve put on weight again. If you get any fatter, I won’t be able to carry you.”
Shi Huai gave the orange cat in his arms a little bounce, feeling its considerable weight, and sighed helplessly.
Tangerine let out a “meow” without opening its eyes. The tip of its tail swayed lightly, indicating that it had heard him—but had chosen not to listen.
Holding Tangerine, Shi Huai walked a few more laps around the courtyard before turning and going back inside.
Early the next morning, Shi Huai sensed that something was wrong as soon as he arrived at the Imperial College.
Several students from other classes were gathered outside Class A, craning their necks to peer inside while whispering among themselves.
When they saw Shi Huai approaching, they immediately moved aside, all their eyes fixing on him.
Shi Huai entered the classroom and saw an exquisite brocade box resting on his desk.
The satin surface of the box shimmered with a deep blue luster in the morning light. One glance at the box was enough to tell that whatever lay inside was extremely valuable.
Beside it was a letter.
There was no name on the envelope. It bore only four words:
“To Shi Huai, personally.”
