Chapter 94: The Night Path and Unspoken Words

Changchuan lit two lanterns—one for himself, one for Kui’er.
He walked in front, Kui’er behind, illuminating the path for Shen Ti and Yin Zhi.

Yin Zhi had never gone out at night before.
Though she often visited Madam Shen's main courtyard during the day or strolled in the garden, she always returned to Jingrong Courtyard before Shen Ti came home from the office.

She looked up. The moon had just risen, still low on the horizon, resting on the eaves of a distant courtyard wall.
But the unpolluted night sky shone with a cold bluish clarity, and the path was not engulfed in darkness.

Whether it was the pebble walkway or the stone-tiled floor, their polished surfaces reflected light.
Different from daylight, the night carried a quiet charm of its own.

At a fork in the road, Yin Zhi stopped.
“No need to walk us further. Kui’er has a lantern too. We can make it back ourselves.”

Changchuan, walking in front, half-turned and glanced at them.
Kui’er opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Shen Ti lowered his gaze.

“You’ve been with me all day—thank you,” Yin Zhi said softly. “Go rest early. Soak your feet before bed.”

Shen Ti looked up at her.

Under the starlight, she cradled his poetry collection in her arms, smiling gently, her gaze full of warmth.
“I’ll wait for your next day off. Then we can go out again.”

Shen Ti gave a quiet “Mm.”

“Alright, I’m heading back,” Yin Zhi said.

She turned, preparing to return to Jingrong Courtyard.
Just one step forward—and her free hand was suddenly grasped.

She turned back.
Shen Ti held her hand silently, simply looking at her.

Changchuan turned his body away. Kui’er stared down at her shoes.

Yin Zhi squeezed his hand and smiled.
“I’ll tell you my favorite poem once I’ve read them all.”

After a moment of silence, Shen Ti let go.
“...Walk carefully. Watch your step.”

Still obedient, Yin Zhi smiled sweetly, turned and walked away.
After a few steps, she looked back.
“Your poetry is so beautiful—when will you write one for me?”

She teased, and this time she truly left.

Shen Ti watched her figure disappear into the night.
His hands tucked inside his sleeves, his right hand reached into his left sleeve, rubbing a folded paper charm—a Tongxin Fangsheng (a traditional paper symbol of shared hearts).

Why couldn’t he say the words?

He had already written it—for her.

Though Changchuan was clever, he couldn’t quite grasp the matters between grown men and women.
His instincts told him now was not the time to speak.
So he remained silent, making his presence as unobtrusive as possible.

The Hanlin stood there unmoving. Changchuan stood with him.

Finally, Shen Ti turned silently.
Changchuan quickly caught up, walking ahead to light the path.

“Hanlin, are we going to the concubine’s place?” he asked.

Shen Ti replied absentmindedly, “Mm.”

They walked quietly until they passed through a moon gate.
Beyond it was a long narrow corridor—the Eastern Wing Courtyards.
The household was small; only one courtyard had a lantern lit at its entrance.

It was Feng Luoyi’s.

In the darkness, the lit lantern stood out strikingly.

Changchuan walked a few steps, then sensed something amiss.
He turned—Shen Ti hadn't followed.
His tall silhouette stood still at the moon gate.

“Hanlin?” Changchuan trotted back.

Shen Ti rubbed the Tongxin Fangsheng inside his sleeve, glanced toward the distant lantern.

He had a wife and a concubine. Since the wife didn’t keep him, naturally, he should go to the concubine.

Feng Luoyi would greet him warmly.
There would be hot tea, music, concern for his comfort, fragrant bedding, tender affection.

For any man, it would be a desirable retreat.

But with the folded charm clenched in his hand, for some reason, he didn’t feel like seeing Feng Luoyi tonight.

“Hanlin?” Changchuan called again.

Shen Ti looked toward Feng Luoyi’s courtyard. There was movement—someone at the door.

“Let’s go,” Shen Ti said, turning and walking back through the moon gate.

Changchuan caught up with the lantern. “Back to Jingrong Courtyard?”

He needed to know where to lead.

Shen Ti was quiet for a moment.

“To the inner study.”

“Huh? Did you forget something? I can go fetch it.”

“No. I’ll stay in the study tonight.”

“Eh? But...”

“Enough.”

Elsewhere, on another path, Kui’er also held up a lantern, lighting the way.

She kept glancing back, wanting to speak but holding back.

“Kui’er,” Yin Zhi called gently. “Watch the road.”

Kui’er answered, bowing her head to watch her step.

“Kui’er,” Yin Zhi said again. “Some things are beyond your control. Worrying about them only drains you for nothing.”

“But...”

“No but. Tell me—between me and the Hanlin, is there any matter you can truly control? Can you make decisions for me, or for him?”

Kui’er deflated. Of course she couldn’t.

The whole day had felt so good—such a rare, light-hearted atmosphere.
Even Shen Ti didn’t seem so aloof.
She thought surely he’d naturally stay the night at Jingrong Courtyard again.

That would’ve made it three nights in a row.
She could finally hold her head high.

Who knew... sigh.

Yin Zhi chuckled. “What difference does it make if he stays one night, two nights, or three?”

“Does it affect my monthly allowance?”
“Has my food or clothing been withheld?”
“Will Madam call Feng to manage the household instead of me?”

Kui’er thought about it. Indeed, none of those things would happen.

“Exactly.” Yin Zhi laughed. “So then, what does it really matter where he sleeps, or for how long?”

Still, Kui’er couldn't lift her spirits.

Yin Zhi smiled, then asked, “Kui’er, you followed me to the capital—what do you want for your future?”

“Huh?” Kui’er was surprised. She hesitated, uncertain. “Want?”

After a pause, she answered, “I... I don’t really want anything?”

“That’s not right. Everyone wants something,” Yin Zhi said.

“But ever since I joined your courtyard, and after you became the young madam, I haven’t needed to want anything. Everything I should have... just came.”

“That was because you were still young, and I thought for you.
But now you’re older, and I have more responsibilities—you need to think for yourself.”

But Kui’er wasn’t used to thinking for herself. She tried and failed.

Yin Zhi had no choice but to say, “Then I’ll tell you what you should aim for.”

“While Luyuan and Hexin are still here, learn from them. Become more capable.
Once they marry out, the courtyard won’t divide into ‘my maids’ and ‘Hanlin’s maids.’
Only then can I promote you to be the steward maid of Jingrong Courtyard.”

“If you do well and catch Hanlin’s attention, when one of his pages wants to marry, he’ll think of you.”

“Remember, the smartest and most promising pages are by Hanlin’s side.
In time, as he rises, they’ll rise too—some may even become stewards.”

“If you marry one of them, you’ll be a steward’s wife.”

“Maybe I can’t let you take charge right away.
You might need to have a child first, like Yunjian.
But that’s fine—raise the child well, and by then, I should have been managing household affairs for years.”

“Give me a few years, and I’ll make a place for you beside me—like a matron.”

“There’ll be work, there’ll be wages. Life will be prosperous.”

“Don’t you think so?”

Yin Zhi didn’t speak of freedom or manumission.
In this era, society is stratified. People kneel before officials, and status can be bought or sold.

No matter her personal ideals, she couldn’t voice them lightly.

Even so, the picture she painted made Kui’er’s eyes sparkle.
“Yes! That’s what I should do.”

Yin Zhi smiled. “Then do what you ought to do. Don’t fret over what’s not yours to worry about.
If there’s anything worth worrying over, I’ll do the worrying.”

“...Alright.”

Meanwhile, Zhu Zhi grumbled to herself—what terrible luck today!
Why had Hanlin suddenly gone mad and returned?

It was already dark. Why go back to the study? Shouldn’t he have stayed with the young madam?

After delivering Shen Ti to the study, Changchuan said, “Shall I go to Jingrong Courtyard—”

“No,” Shen Ti interrupted.

“Then to the concubine’s—”

“No.”

Changchuan was speechless. “Hanlin, your court robes aren’t here.”

He needed to retrieve an outfit for the next morning.

Shen Ti thought for a moment.
“Go to Pingmo. He has spares. Quietly. Zhu Zhi, go with him. One person can’t carry it alone.”

And so Zhu Zhi and Changchuan took a lantern and went to the outer courtyard.

The side gate was locked.
Changchuan called to the matron, “Hanlin needs something.”

He was Shen Ti’s personal errand boy, small but respected.
The matron quickly opened the gate.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, running off.

At Pingmo’s quarters, the man was already barefoot and lying down.
He had to be roused.

“What’s going on? Where’s Hanlin sleeping?” he asked.

“In the study.”

“What about the young madam?”

“She went back to Jingrong Courtyard.”

“Why didn’t he go with her? Did they argue?”

“Didn’t seem like it,” Changchuan said, scratching his head.

“Explain everything.”

“Well... we left the study, halfway there I thought we were going back to Jingrong Courtyard.
Then the young madam suddenly said we didn’t need to walk her further.
Hanlin seemed to be heading to the concubine’s but turned around at the moon gate.
Said he’d sleep in the study.
Asked me to get the backup court robes from you for tomorrow.”

Changchuan recounted everything clearly—but the subtleties between a man and a woman, the push and pull of desire and restraint, were beyond his years.

Pingmo, after hearing the whole story, was still baffled.

Even if something went wrong with the young madam, he could’ve just gone to the concubine’s.
Why choose to sleep alone in the study?

Still, Pingmo had his principles.
He didn’t interfere in inner-courtyard affairs. He served Shen Ti outside the house—and refused to be caught up in household drama.

Otherwise, as a male servant, he could easily offend both sides and end up unwanted.

“Fine. Take it.”

The court robes were always prepared in a trunk, ready to go.
He handed them over.

Zhu Zhi carried the lantern, Changchuan the trunk.

Pingmo lay back down, deep in thought.

His family had once been destitute. His mother, needing milk for a newborn, entered the Shen household as a wet nurse.
The baby died of starvation, but the family survived.

He grew up in the Shen household, becoming Shen Ti’s milk brother.

Eventually, his mother was sent away to avoid influencing Shen Ti's upbringing, and Pingmo was kept in the house.

The Shen family gave them a future.

If Shen Ti needed him, he’d give everything.

But this? This was not something he could help with.

Thinking of how humbly Shen Ti behaved earlier that day around the young madam...

Pingmo pulled the quilt over his head.

No one can help.
Hanlin, you’re on your own.