The moon had set in the frosty sky, cold stars dotted the heavens.

An apricot-yellow-clad man left the street where the lantern festival was held, his whole body heavy with gloom as he headed toward Flower Street.

On the lantern-festival side the crowd roared, while the other lanes where the lantern light could not reach were like beasts quietly crouching in the night, sinister with danger.

Fortunately, only one street away was Flower Street hung with red lanterns, and the lights became lovely again.

When the yellow-clothed man was walking along the only route away from the lantern festival, something suddenly was thrown over his head and blocked his sight. The yellow-clothed man, frightened and about to shout, felt a heavy blow to his abdomen; the sharp pain made him curl up, and the shout that had reached his lips immediately went out of strength.

Immediately afterwards he was kicked hard in the buttocks and fell into a pitch-black alley to one side, where sticks rained down on him like drops of rain.

The yellow-clothed man was beaten until he cried for his parents, in the sack he hugged his head with both hands and curled into a ball: “Good sirs, don’t beat me! Don’t beat me! I have money, I’ll give you all the silver on me, please spare me, good sirs!”

No one answered; instead, through the sack he was punched in the face a few more times.

The yellow-clothed man’s cries grew more wretched. Passersby who heard the screams coming from the pitch-black alley, afraid of bringing trouble on themselves, didn’t dare go forward to help; only after running a distance did someone shout, “Quick, report to the officials — someone’s being beaten in that alley!”

When Fan Changyu heard this, to avoid leaving evidence of the crime, she put away her hammer-stick and, extremely cautiously, tore off the burlap sack that had been pulled over the yellow-clothed man’s upper body.

Only she pulled a bit too hard, and the man was carried forward by that force and smashed his face into the ground; one of his front teeth was broken off. The wail that followed was so piercing that even Flower Street, from afar, could hear it.

Fan Changyu paused for a moment; hearing the disorderly footsteps already at the street entrance, she could not be bothered further and bolted, running toward the other end of the alley.

She had deliberately chosen an alley that opened onto streets at both ends so she could squat and wait for someone, and it would be convenient to escape.

Xie Zheng, with Changning and the others, stood at the tail of the alley. The two met each other’s eyes, said nothing, and with tacit understanding quickly left the scene.

Only after they had walked two streets did Xie Zheng ask, “What did you do to him?”

Listening to that piercing wail, it did not sound like the man had merely been given a beating.

Fan Changyu said, “I didn’t do anything to him; he was too stupid. When I pulled the sack off he staggered and smashed his face to the ground and broke a tooth.”

Xie Zheng tilted his head to look at her, seeming not to quite believe that explanation.

Fan Changyu: “…I really didn’t lie to you.”

Xie Zheng asked, “What about the others, will you teach them a lesson too?”

Fan Changyu thought, ‘What does he take me for’, and said, “No. Beating those few in one day would only plainly tell them it was me. That mouth of his isn’t clean — today I just beat him to vent; the others I’ll teach slowly when I get the chance.”

Meanwhile, the yellow-clothed man still lying in the alley and wailing was finally helped up by the officials who had arrived.

Both his eyes were bruised, one front tooth broken and his mouth full of blood, two streams of blood hanging under his nose. By the light of the torch he could at last see his broken front tooth on the ground. Crying and choking, he said, “My tooth’s broken, how can I enter official service in the future now?!”

He was the county magistrate’s own nephew, and he bawled at the constables: “Aren’t you going to investigate for Your Young Master? Arrest and bring to justice the ruffians who beat Your Young Master!”

The constable on duty today wiped the sweat from his brow and asked, “Young Master, have you made any enemies recently?”

The yellow-clothed man thought carefully, grimacing from the pain as he spoke. “A few days ago, that little wretch from the Wang family fought with this Young Master over a courtesan in the House of Pleasure. I humiliated him thoroughly—it’s most likely him! And that son from the Liu family, the one who puts on airs of integrity yet failed the provincial exam—I mocked him too. Could be him as well. And the Li family…”

The constable’s head ached listening to the long list of people he’d offended.

Finally, the yellow-clothed man recalled what happened that evening at the lantern festival and said, “Tonight, this Young Master also mocked Brother Song’s former fiancée on his behalf.”

That incident was rather disgraceful to mention—after all, so many people had seen several of the county school’s most celebrated scholars being rendered speechless by a mere live-in son-in-law. He cut himself off and asked, “Were Brother Song and the others injured by the thugs?”

The constable shook his head, and the man immediately said, “A butcher’s daughter and her sickly husband—this Young Master doubts they’d have the courage. You’d better check the families I mentioned earlier!”

After the constables went off to investigate, he was helped away, groaning and moaning, to a nearby medical hall for treatment.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

When Fan Changyu returned to the temporary lodgings arranged at the Yixiang Tower, the matronly housekeeper had not yet gone to bed.

Seeing them, she smiled and asked, “Was the lantern festival enjoyable?”

Changning had already fallen asleep on Xie Zheng’s shoulder on the way back. Fan Changyu, still feeling a little guilty about the beating, only mumbled vaguely, “It was nice. Lots of people—quite lively.”

The housekeeper led them to a room, opened the door with a smile, and said, “Only this one is still vacant. You’ll have to make do for the night.”

Fan Changyu thanked her and asked for a pot of hot water to wash up. After she gently wiped Changning’s hands and face, she laid him on the bed to sleep.

She washed her own face and found that not much hot water remained in the kettle. It was too late at night to trouble the housekeeper for more, so she poured the used face-washing water into a foot basin and made do with soaking her feet.

When Xie Zheng finished washing his face with the remaining hot water, she still had her feet in the basin. Seeing him about to take his wash water out to pour away, she quickly said, “Pour it into the foot basin.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Xie Zheng carried the wooden basin over.

Fan Changyu lifted her feet and rested them on the edge of the basin to make it easier for him to pour.

Perhaps because she rarely saw sunlight, her feet were strikingly pale—under the candlelight they glowed like warm jade, with a small black mole at her ankle that inexplicably caught the eye.

Xie Zheng glanced once and immediately lowered his gaze to hide his expression.

In the capital, for a man to see a woman’s bare feet was no different from her losing her chastity. But in this remote border town, the customs were far more relaxed—women pounding clothes by the riverside often went barefoot, and no one thought much of it.

Her temperament was always straightforward and unreserved; such a gesture was nothing out of the ordinary to her. Yet Xie Zheng still felt a faint sense of unease.

When Fan Changyu saw that after pouring the water he sat far away, she asked, “Aren’t you going to soak your feet?”

Xie Zheng said, “You finish first. I’ll rinse mine outside with cold water later.”

Fan Changyu glared. “In this freezing weather, you’d wash your feet with cold water? You’ll catch a chill tomorrow!”

After more than a month of living together, she’d discovered that Yan Zheng was a man who liked cleanliness. Thinking he didn’t want to use water she’d used, she said, “In our house, we always shared one basin for soaking feet. I forgot you’ve that cleanliness habit—wait, I’ll go tell the matron to boil another pot of water for you in the kitchen.”

Xie Zheng frowned, and finally said, “No need. This water will do.”

The Fan family was known for being clean; they changed their shoes and socks frequently, and the water, though used, still looked clear.

It was his own heart that felt in disarray.

When he put his feet into the basin, seeing the faint traces of water along the rim, the image of her feet resting there rose unbidden in his mind.

His brows furrowed tighter at once. The moment his feet entered the water, he hurriedly stood up to pour it out.

Fan Changyu, sitting by the table, opened her mouth slightly when she saw this. When he returned, she spoke with a complicated expression, “It’s fine if you have a cleanliness habit. I didn’t think you were disdaining anything. You don’t have to force yourself like this…”

Under the candlelight, her sincere and clear eyes reflected in his gaze; between his fine brows appeared a trace of self-loathing. He only said, “It’s not what you think.”

There was only one bed in the room, and only one quilt. After placing the wooden basin back inside, he headed toward the door. “You should rest early.”

Fan Changyu found his behavior somewhat strange and asked, “What about you?”

He couldn’t possibly sit outside all night. The housekeeper had just said this was the only room left.

Xie Zheng said, “I’ll ask if I can share a room with one of the attendants from the Yixiang Tower.”

Even after he left and the door closed again, Fan Changyu still looked dazed.

Why did he suddenly act as though she were some flood beast or wild creature?

Had the sack earlier frightened him?

Or was the damage done by that basin of foot-washing water simply too great?