Chapter 27: Affection

Xue Huaijin, seeing Xue Ao approaching, hurriedly stepped forward, pulling Liu Chuyan and Han Shuwei behind him. “Second Brother, we’ll return to our rooms now.”

“Alright,” Xue Ao nodded, though he was still uneasy. Zhao Panyu had brought several men with him—if any of the young ladies were offended, it would be unacceptable. He turned his head slightly and called to his two personal guards, “Qin Yan, Qin Su, escort the young ladies back to their rooms.”

“Yes, sir.”

Qin Yan and Qin Su firmly blocked Zhao Panyu’s men and quickly departed.

Liu Chuyan followed Xue Huaijin and the others back to Yixiang Garden.

Xue Huaiyu, noticing Liu Chuyan’s pale face and the fine sheen of sweat on her brow, saw clearly that she had been frightened. Thinking of that scoundrel Zhao Panyu, she stamped her foot in anger. “That Zhao fellow—what does he take our Duke’s manor for? Next time, our brother must teach him a lesson!”

Xue Huaijin signaled the maid to close the doors and windows tightly, then glanced at her. “This is a crucial time. Don’t speak carelessly.”

“How am I speaking carelessly? He’s committed embezzlement—he won’t have many good days left. And he offended His Majesty, who treasures his screen dearly; His Majesty surely won’t let him off! Besides, embezzlement isn’t his only crime. If everything is proven, each offense could doom him.”

“Huaiyu, even if it’s true, you mustn’t say so. Our second brother is handling it; your loose tongue might bring trouble upon him. After all, Zhao Panyu has extensive connections at court. Even with His Majesty’s command, it will take considerable effort to convict him. Wait until the dust settles. Then, even if you want to spit at him, I won’t stop you.” Xue Huaijin, usually silent, now launched into a long-winded lecture, making Xue Huaiyu’s eyelids twitch and her fingers twist restlessly; the words on the tip of her tongue were swallowed back.

Seeing Liu Chuyan still unsettled, Xue Huaijin directed a maid to help her onto the chaise lounge. Yet Liu Chuyan sat rigidly, lips bitten, clutching her handkerchief, unable to relax.

Liu Chuyan paid little mind to their expressions; her head was bowed in deep thought, a weight pressing on her chest. She had thought that winning favor from the General’s manor would be her turning point. But fate was fickle, and she had run into Zhao Panyu again. In her past life, everything began with him. Now, in this life, he had reappeared, and their first meeting was so fraught. She wished to believe that moment had been a mere accident, but his wolfish, fervent gaze unsettled her deeply—she could not optimistically console herself.

“Chuyan, don’t be afraid. Since Sister won’t let me speak loudly, I’ll whisper it to you,” Xue Huaiyu said, sitting beside her and playing with the bangles on her wrist. One she recognized as a gift from her mother, but the other was unfamiliar—nearly as fine as something from the palace. But those things were unimportant; she needed to comfort her first. Leaning close to Liu Chuyan’s ear, she whispered, “My second brother will certainly teach him a lesson! And even if he can’t, our eldest brother will bring him down.”

“Huaiyu!” Xue Huaijin could endure no more. How had this sister grown so outspoken, pouring out everything like water?

Chastened by her sister’s scolding, Xue Huaiyu begrudgingly shrank her neck, ready to retort but ultimately biting her tongue. Xue Huaijin might not be talkative, but her words were razor-sharp—Huaiyu knew she couldn’t win.

Liu Chuyan, hearing Xue Huaiyu’s words, felt somewhat soothed. As long as she could endure until Zhao Panyu was imprisoned, all would be well. Until then, she must find a way to avoid his pursuit.

But how could she evade him?

Was fate truly unyielding? Doubt gnawed at her. No matter how she dodged and hid, many things seemed to progress along their original course—some happening sooner, others later. Madam Zhao’s early accusation at the Duke of Wukang’s manor, her delayed formal encounter with Zhao Panyu—these were all events of her previous life. What difference did it make, whether they occurred sooner or later?

Yet, many things had changed irrevocably: her great-aunt’s death, General Liu’s desire to adopt her, the sudden favor from the Duke of Xin’s family.

Liu Chuyan lifted her head slightly, gazing at the white porcelain Guanyin upon her desk, striving to calm herself. Three sticks of sandalwood incense burned before the statue, the gentle white smoke curling upward. The figure’s features were kind and serene, radiating a sense of peace and blessing. Suddenly, words from a great master echoed in her mind: even if destiny is ordained, it is not unchangeable. In worldly matters, there are fixed patterns and anomalies. She, perhaps, was the anomaly. But where was her benefactor? “Wood” on the side, “grass” on top—none of General Liu’s family names contained the wood radical; it could not be them. She would have to search patiently.

“Huaiyu, if you can’t sit still, go practice your calligraphy,” Xue Huaijin suddenly ordered, summoning a maid to bring paper, ink, brush, and inkstone, laying them out on the desk with a stern face. “You’ve been having too much fun lately and have neglected your lessons. Before lunch, write three full pages.”

Xue Huaiyu, knowing she’d spoken out of turn and upset her sister, dared not protest. She cast a pitiful glance at Liu Chuyan, but finding her lost in thought, could only resign herself and begin writing under Xue Huaijin’s watchful eye.

“Huaiyu, your writing is truly dreadful—all slanting and crooked.” Huaiyu, distracted, quickly drew criticism from Xue Huaijin. “Especially this grass radical—lifeless and limp. Second Brother has taught you for so long, and still you can’t write it well. It’s an embarrassment to him.”

“Second Brother’s own writing is good, but he has no patience with me,” Huaiyu retorted, stopping midway through a character.

“You have only yourself to blame for not learning properly. Just look—you can’t even write your own surname. If someone asks you to write ‘Xue,’ you’ll only make a fool of yourself.”

“My ‘Xue’ is fine! See for yourself,” Huaiyu insisted, pointing to the radical on her paper. But a glance told her otherwise—her sister was right, her writing was unpresentable.

“Don’t bother, I don’t believe you,” Xue Huaijin replied, intentionally provoking her. But to her surprise, Liu Chuyan turned her head, paused for a moment, then strode over to them.

“Xue? The grass radical?” A flash of insight struck Liu Chuyan—was her benefactor from the Xue family?

“Chuyan, even our eldest brother praised your writing last time. Why don’t you teach me?” Eager for a diversion, Huaiyu quickly pulled Liu Chuyan to the desk.

But Liu Chuyan only stared at the grass radical on the paper. Prompted again by Huaiyu, she finally picked up the brush—not to correct the radical, but to add strokes beneath it, forming the full character “Xue.”

“Your characters are lovely, but alas, spoiled by that unsightly grass radical,” Xue Huaijin teased, collecting the paper and laying out a fresh sheet.

Liu Chuyan said nothing, but wrote “Xue” again—this time, adding the character “Tan” after it.

Xue Huaijin and Xue Huaiyu exchanged startled glances. What did this mean? Could it be that Liu Chuyan harbored feelings for Xue Tan? That would be a marvelous thing. As they considered how to approach the subject, Liu Chuyan wrote their names as well, then added Xue Ao’s last. What was her intent—recalling the family’s names, or hiding her true feelings?

Liu Chuyan had always found solace in calligraphy; as soon as she began to write, her spirit calmed. Now, gazing at the four names on the paper, she pondered: regardless of which, one of them must be her benefactor. Fortunately, she was on good terms with the Xue family—except for Xue Ao, who was as arrogant as a peacock. It was unlikely to be him; perhaps it was Xue Tan. After all, the two sisters could only help so much, whereas the Duke of Xin held high rank and imperial favor.

She was thus musing when a maid came in to announce that lunch was ready. The servants set the dishes, and the young ladies sat down together.

“First Miss, Second Miss, the young master sent over two dishes for Miss Liu and Miss Han,” the maid announced as Liu Chuyan picked up her chopsticks. Two attendants arrived, each carrying a covered bowl.

“What’s this?”

“Medicinal dishes for beauty and health—the recipes prescribed by Imperial Physician Fu for the young master, and suitable for ladies as well. The young master says he’s unable to entertain you himself, so he sends these as an apology,” the maid explained, placing the bowls.

“How generous of the Duke of Xin. I am unworthy,” Liu Chuyan said, rising to curtsy.

“Chuyan, he treats you as our close friend, so there’s no need to be so formal,” Xue Huaijin said, tugging her back to her seat.

Liu Chuyan sat, reassured, but eyed the bowls with a hint of doubt.

The maid, noticing this, guessed she was unfamiliar with medicinal cuisine and smiled gently. “Miss Liu, this is cassia seed and chicken liver soup—good for the eyes and mind. The young master said you two embroidered all morning and must be tired; this will help you recover. The other is ginseng, astragalus, and winter melon soup, which is light and nourishing. Please enjoy. If you need anything, just call.”

“Eldest Brother is so thoughtful—he’s never treated us so well,” Xue Huaiyu grumbled, though her tone was light and her gaze fixed on Liu Chuyan, watching for any reaction.

Liu Chuyan nodded slightly, not truly replying, her eyes lingering on the single “Yan” character on the bowl.

“What has you so entranced, Chuyan?” Xue Huaijin leaned closer, noticing that she was staring at the inscription. She smiled and explained, “You’ve probably never seen this before. Because my eldest brother’s health is delicate, he has his own kitchen, and all his tableware is kept separate. My mother was afraid the servants would mix things up, so she had each piece marked. Those who know him well call him ‘Ziyan’—that’s the ‘Yan’ you see here.”

Realization dawned on Liu Chuyan. She straightened, no longer examining the bowl, but pondering: “Yan” corresponds to “Dui”—metal in the five elements. The master had said her benefactor’s fate was rich in metal. Could it be related to this “Yan”? But then, Xue Ao’s courtesy name was “Zisheng,” and “Sheng” also belonged to metal. Both brothers were well-born, with auspicious names.

If only she knew the birth dates and times of the Duke and Xue Ao—then she could calculate further. But great families guarded such information, and she could not ask outright. The thought furrowed her brow.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. “Huaijin, you said Second Master Xue’s birthday is coming up. May I ask the exact date and time?”

Author’s note: The bond between the male and female leads is a special one—next chapter, you’ll see even more wonders! Try to guess, clever readers, I know you’ll figure it out! Three chapters today—please be patient!