Chapter Sixty-Three: Meeting the Benefactor Again

“What did you just say, Sister?” Lu Yun was clearly stunned. He stared at his sister in disbelief. Though he’d always thought her capable these days, to believe she could single-handedly oppose the entire Ping family—this was simply impossible.

Lu Ying, having let those words slip, quickly fell silent. After their meal, she wrote for a while, and then the siblings went to bed early.

The next day, after seeing her brother off, Lu Ying pondered for a moment, then changed into the splendid men’s attire she’d bought last time, donned her gauze cap, and left the house.

She had just stepped out of the alley when she heard the rumbling of an ox cart. The cart stopped right outside her alley. Madam Huang, flanked by two maids, climbed down with a flourish and marched straight toward Lu Ying’s residence.

They had come rather quickly.

Lu Ying glanced back, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Just as she’d told her brother, the Ping household would not easily let go of such an opportunity. The sun had barely risen above the treetops, and Madam Huang was already back. And this was only Madam Huang; after a few more attempts at persuasion, both overt and covert, they would surely find a reason that left her no choice but to move into the Ping household.

At this thought, Lu Ying’s expression grew cold.

This time was different from the last—a hurried affair then, but now Lu Ying walked at a leisurely pace, taking more than half an hour to arrive at the Yiyuan Garden in the north of the city.

Under the sunlight, the exquisite manor stood proudly. Guards of the Imperial Garrison moved to and fro. Lu Ying breathed out quietly, thinking: So, he has indeed returned.

Last time, she could tell from the official’s tone that he was busy and likely heading to Chengdu. She later heard he had indeed left. Yet now he’d returned again—it seemed he would be staying here for a while longer.

As Lu Ying approached, two guards at the gate turned to look at her. Under their scrutinizing gaze, she walked up, removed her gauze cap to reveal the visage of a striking “young man,” and bowed deeply. “Lu, of the—” she began.

This time, before she could finish, one of the guards chuckled softly, “It’s you again, boy? Go on in.” The other added bluntly, “Our master said, if you come, you may enter at any time. No need to announce yourself.”

Lu Ying was momentarily speechless. Was it too late to regret coming? Could she turn back?

Seeing her hesitation, both guards smiled, lowered their heads in unison, even withdrawing their spears as they stepped back two paces in respect.

She swallowed hard, forcing a thin smile. Even after she walked a dozen steps inside, she could still feel their gaze, as if they found her endlessly amusing.

Within Yiyuan Garden, peach blossoms drifted over flowing waters, and the shade of green trees lingered everywhere. As she walked down the path beneath the canopy, the sound of qin and se instruments floated along, graceful and winding, as if from a celestial realm.

Though Lu Ying had visited twice before, she was unfamiliar with the garden’s layout. Whenever she glimpsed a passing servant, she was tempted to stop and ask for directions. But she refrained. Now, clad in silver robes and appearing every bit the elegant youth, she had no wish to draw the attention of the servants and start rumors.

Uncertain of where the official resided, Lu Ying made her way directly to the pavilion she had visited the previous two times.

Her luck was not as good this time; the pavilion was empty, without the faintest trace of the official.

Straightening herself, Lu Ying thought: It’s still early. If he isn’t here, I will simply summon him.

With this in mind, she stepped onto the pavilion.

On the platform stood a low table, beside it a zither and a flute, along with several books. The breeze rustled the pages, and under the spring sunlight, a lazy, drowsy air lingered.

Lu Ying sat on the couch, leafed through a book, then set it aside and began to play the zither at random.

She did not know how much time had passed when suddenly a man’s powerful voice rang out, “Who is making such a racket on the zither?” The voice, full of vigor, drew closer with heavy strides.

Indeed, Lu Ying’s playing was far from skillful. Her father had died young, and she’d grown up as any village girl might. She could read as she pleased, but there had never been anyone to teach her the zither.

But she cared little for skill. In this refined place, the residence of a nobleman, her random playing was simply a way to announce her arrival.

The footsteps drew closer; her playing grew bolder.

At last, a deep, magnetic sigh full of resignation sounded, “Such infernal music… Lu Ying, won’t you give it a rest?”

It was the official’s voice.

Hearing his sigh, Lu Ying almost sighed herself. As she had suspected, his impression of her was deep, her name firmly etched in his memory.

…And this was exactly why she had come. Since he remembered her, there was no need to feign ignorance. In this world, avoidance never solved anything; facing matters head-on was always best.

When the rich, magnetic voice fell silent, Lu Ying let her ten fingers linger over the strings, ending the performance with a graceful flourish.

Then, she slowly lifted her head, gazing through the gauze cap at the extraordinary man approaching. Lu Ying calmly removed her cap, leaned back, and smiled. “To see an old friend again—how could I not be delighted?”

Behind her, the crystal-clear water shimmered; in the distance, bamboo rustled. The “young man,” dressed in men’s attire, was strikingly handsome, his features cool and refined. The scene was like a painting.

Yet, considering Lu Ying’s humble status, her true gender, and the noble identity of the man she addressed with such playful banter, the moment carried a touch of irony.

From behind the official, two stifled chuckles could be heard.

The official himself seemed surprised; his steps faltered for a moment before he quickened his pace.

He did not stop until he stood before Lu Ying, his tall figure casting a shadow over her, the faint scent of a man filling her senses, blotting out the sunlight. He laughed in a low voice, “I have always wondered, Lu Ying—why do you not fear me?”

At his words, the two guards standing silently nearby nodded in agreement. They, too, could not understand why Lu Ying remained unafraid of their master.

…All of Luoyang knew their master’s temperament—capricious, quick to laughter, but also fierce of heart. Many feared him. All the young ladies of noble houses held him in awe. Why was it that only she, in his presence, acted so boldly?

What made her so fearless? She laughed when she wished, showed anger when she pleased, even bantered with him as she did now.

Of course, there were always those with courage, but never one so at ease as she—seemingly always attuned to his moods, always adjusting herself at just the right moment, so that she could advance and retreat with ease, graceful as the wind itself.