Snowflakes drifted down beneath the eaves, a thin layer already gathering upon the steps.

Xie Zheng leaned against the veranda pillar, arms folded, his eyes half-lowered as though lost in thought. The lantern above his head cast a pool of warm light, drawing a dark shadow beneath his finely shaped lashes.

He had seen many beauties, and at banquets hosted by Wei Yan, he had even witnessed Western Region dancers performing barefoot before the guests.

He could no longer recall what those dancers’ feet looked like—only the golden anklets with tiny bells that chimed softly as they moved, like a silent invitation.

When he happened to see Fan Changyu’s bare feet, he did not know why, but that image of the golden bells suddenly surfaced in his mind.

And at once, he felt it absurd.

At the same time, a wave of self-disgust rose in him, for having offended her even in thought.

Xie Zheng pressed his fingers to his brow in irritation. He had lived under another’s roof since childhood. To uphold his father’s dying wish, he had diligently studied military strategy and trained hard in martial arts. Moreover, Wei Yan’s strict discipline over both him and Wei Xuan forbade indulgence in matters of men and women. Even the attendants by his side were all young men—never a single maidservant.

Once he entered the battlefield, his heart was wholly devoted to killing the enemy; such thoughts never once crossed his mind.

Wei Xuan, whether out of rebellion against Wei Yan’s rules or simple contrariness, frequently visited brothels and kept mistresses, earning many punishments for it.

At that time, Wei Xuan had mocked him for being nothing more than a docile dog, asking if he even knew what tenderness between men and women felt like. Xie Zheng had only shared Wei Yan’s view—believing such a man could never achieve greatness.

Though he disliked admitting it, he had indeed been deeply influenced by Wei Yan. Wei Yan believed that those in power must first learn to master their own desires; the lust between men and women was the basest of all impulses.

After returning from the army, Xie Zheng occasionally could not decline certain banquets for the sake of propriety. When he saw the soft, boneless dancers earning rounds of applause, he felt nothing but disdain.

Like Wei Yan, he looked down upon the decadence of the capital’s nobles, convinced that such debauchery only weakened one’s resolve.

If he were ever to take a wife, she would be a woman of a great family—someone worthy of bearing the Xie name, not a fragile creature like his mother.

On the battlefield, blades had no eyes. Perhaps one day he, too, would die as his father had—amidst the chaos of war. He did not need a woman to die for him, only one who could uphold the Xie family’s name after he was gone.

Every young heir in the capital chose his wife by such standards, always from among the noble families.

But these days… what had become of him?

Unbidden, Fan Changyu’s image rose again before his eyes—her slaughtering pigs, striking with the knife, gritting her teeth to endure.

She was good—better, even, than many daughters of noble houses. Stronger, more resilient. Yet her world was too simple; she would not be able to contend with the snakes and demons of high society… in the end, she could never be the matriarch of the Xie family.

Realizing where his thoughts had wandered, Xie Zheng froze for a moment.

When the matron making rounds through the courtyard came by with her lantern, she noticed him standing under the veranda and asked, “Young sir, why not return to your room to rest?”

Xie Zheng gathered his composure and said, “I was just about to look for you. May I trouble you to let me stay in one of the rooms with the servants from Yixiang Tower for the night?”

The matron blinked in surprise. “You’re Lady Fan’s husband. Why not share a room with her?”

Xie Zheng offered a pretext: “She has her younger sister with her—it wouldn’t be proper.”

The matron thought to herself that Changning was only a child, but then again, a girl was a girl. She nodded and said, “Ah, this old woman was careless. The fellows from the pavilion all share rooms two by two, and there aren’t any empty ones left. But one of them snores terribly—no one can sleep in the same room with him. If you don’t mind, you could make do in his room for the night.”

Xie Zheng only said he did not mind, so the matron led him to that servant’s room.

Even before they reached the door, the thunderous snoring could already be heard—it was like rolling thunder. Xie Zheng fell silent for a moment.

The matron pushed the door open; even the creak of the turning hinges failed to wake the servant in the slightest. She led Xie Zheng inside, lit the oil lamp, and pointed to the empty single bed at the side. 

“You can sleep here tonight.”

Xie Zheng thanked her, and the matron left with her lantern.

He removed his outer robe, lay down with one arm as a pillow, and though he had little sleepiness to begin with, the deafening snores from the opposite bed drove away what little rest remained.

After enduring for a quarter of an hour, Xie Zheng rose, walked over to the servant’s bedside, and brought down a knife-hand strike upon the back of his neck. The servant fainted instantly, and the snoring ceased at once.

He lay back down again, yet still could not sleep.

He had never thought much about the future between him and Fan Changyu, yet tonight, when the thought of marriage surfaced, a strange restlessness stirred within him.

He knew well that Fan Changyu was unsuitable to be the matriarch of the Xie family. Yet, when he imagined returning to the capital and marrying a noblewoman—one proper and well-read, poised and capable of managing the household—he felt, instinctively, a faint aversion.

It was as though he had found in the wilderness a wild blade of grass—resilient and full of life. He liked it somewhat. But if he were to dig it up and bring it home, placing it beside the rare and exquisite flowers, others would only mock it as a weed.

A wild grass could only thrive freely in its own field. Once placed into a fine porcelain pot and carefully tended, it would no longer be a wild grass.

He raised a hand, laying it across his brow, lips pressed tightly together in the dark.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Before dawn the next day, Fan Changyu had already risen. Changning was still asleep. After dressing quietly, she slipped out of the room, asked the matron to look after Changning, and went to Yixiang Tower.

The layout of this Yixiang Tower in the county was much like the one in Lin’an Town, only built with greater grandeur.

The hall servants had not yet arrived, but the kitchen staff were already present.

The pig heads to be braised had long been prepared; Fan Changyu did not even need to light the fire herself—she only had to ready the marinade.

Yu Qianqian personally discussed with several head chefs the order in which dishes were to be served—the ones to be presented first, those that would follow, and which dish would serve as the finale.

Though Fan Changyu was an outsider, she could tell how particular the process was. After all, certain dishes would lose their flavor if left too long, while if too many heavy dishes were served in succession, the kitchen would fall behind on preparation, delaying the courses. That would be humiliating.

In ordinary households, a late dish at a banquet was no great matter. But for banquets ordered by nobles and officials, a delayed course meant the host lost face. The host would not only take the matter up with Yixiang Tower but, if word spread, it could ruin the establishment’s reputation.

After giving precise instructions to the chefs about every detail, Yu Qianqian noticed Fan Changyu sitting by the stove. Without a hint of airs, she squeezed in beside her to warm her hands.

“It’s only the second day of the new year, and I’ve already dragged you here to help me,” she said with a smile. “You’ve really had it hard.”

Fan Changyu replied, “Shopkeeper Yu has far more to handle. You’re the one who’s working hard.”

Yu Qianqian laughed. “There’s no such thing as easy money. If we pull this banquet off well, Yixiang Tower’s name will finally make its mark in the county.”

When Yixiang Tower had first opened here, Wang Ji’s betrayal had stolen much of its business, leaving things lukewarm. The local gentry even made jokes about the unlucky omen of their opening day, when no auspicious sign appeared.

To raise Yixiang Tower’s status among the county’s elite, Yu Qianqian had sent lavish gifts to the noble ladies and finally secured today’s grand banquet.

Then, as though recalling something, she turned to Fan Changyu and asked, “By the way, does your family’s braised meat business have a design chart emblem?”

Fan Changyu looked puzzled. “What is that?”

Yu Qianqian slapped her own forehead. “It’s my fault—I’ve been so busy these days that I forgot to tell you earlier. I mean something like Wang Ji Braised Meat—their own custom-made shop sign.”

Fan Changyu shook her head.

Yu Qianqian said, “Your braised meat in my restaurant is positioned against Wang Ji’s at Zuixian Pavilion. Even if you don’t have a design emblem, you still need to have someone write a few words—it’ll look more proper that way.”

Fan Changyu was puzzled. “Isn’t braised meat all the same—cut, plated, and served on the table? Having a sign or not shouldn’t matter.”

Yu Qianqian explained, “You must have noticed when you came in—the shops under my building that are leased out. The Fang family’s tea and the Li family’s wine are all sold there. I’ve also kept a spot for your braised meat. You can prepare more later and display it there for sale. You’ll keep whatever you earn, of course—but you have to get your name out. Otherwise, if the braised meat served here has no name or background, won’t it look like Zuixian Pavilion’s Wang Ji has the upper hand?”

As she spoke, she started to rise. “I’ll have someone find a scholar with good handwriting to make you a cloth banner for now.”

Fan Changyu immediately thought of Xie Zheng and said, “My husband can write. I’ll ask him.”

Yu Qianqian hesitated. “Is your husband’s calligraphy any good?”

Fan Changyu said firmly, “His writing is beautiful!”

With her repeated assurances—and with plenty still to handle—Yu Qianqian nodded. “Then go find your husband now. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll have someone fetch a scholar later.”

The braised meat was already simmering; she only needed to keep an eye on the fire. Fan Changyu didn’t delay—she agreed at once and went to look for Xie Zheng in the alley behind Yixiang Tower.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Xie Zheng, having been unable to sleep the night before, had only drifted off lightly when dawn came.

He was soon awakened by the matron calling for the servant from the next bed.

The matron muttered as she called, “That lad never seemed lazy before—why’s he still asleep at this hour today?”

The servant opened his eyes in confusion, saw the daylight, and hurried to get dressed. But as soon as he moved, he let out a cry of pain. “Ow! I think I slept wrong—my neck really hurts!” He rubbed the back of his neck in agony.

The matron scolded sternly, “You overslept and got stiff from lying too long!”

Feeling guilty for sleeping late and getting reprimanded, the servant grimaced, dressed hastily, splashed his face with water, and rushed off to the front hall to work.

By now, the courtyard was filled with the bustling sounds of Yixiang Tower’s staff at work. Xie Zheng no longer felt like lying down.

After a sleepless night, a faint stubble shadowed his jaw. Just as he finished washing up, Fan Changyu arrived. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, she asked in concern, “You didn’t stay up all night, did you?”

The matron happened to pass by and overheard. Glancing at Xie Zheng’s weary appearance, she said, “I told you last night, that lad’s snoring was enough to shake the beams—this young man surely couldn’t sleep a wink!”

Xie Zheng didn’t know how to respond to Fan Changyu’s question, so when the matron spoke, he simply nodded after a brief hesitation.

Fan Changyu immediately looked at him with sympathy.

Once the matron had gone, she said softly, “You should get a proper rest tonight. But right now, I need to ask you for a favor.”

Perhaps because he hadn’t slept well, Xie Zheng’s gaze lingered for a moment on her lips as they moved—he barely heard what she said. Instead, his mind flashed back to the dream he’d had during his brief sleep.

In the dream, they had parted ways as agreed. She had turned and married another man, still wearing the wedding robes from their own ceremony.