Feng Lezhen never imagined that the person she’d carefully sketched and tasked Qin Wan with searching for over several days would turn out to be working right in her own manor as a servant.
Her gaze fell on the collar of his robe, washed pale with wear, and she suddenly recalled that when he came to save her in their past life, he was wearing this very outfit—though at the time it was soaked with blood and mud, its original look hard to discern.
Now that they met again, while he bore no serious injuries, he still looked disheveled—his face and wrists covered in scrapes, his pants torn from falling on the stone path. Who knew how many more injuries hid beneath those worn clothes?
She stared at the scrape beneath his eye for a long moment and asked, “Why hasn’t this Eldest Princess seen you before?”
His Adam’s apple moved, but before he could answer, Ah Ye explained: “There are three hundred servants in the manor. A third-class servant like him isn’t even allowed in the front courtyard. It’s normal that Your Highness hasn’t seen him before. If the coachman hadn’t come through the back today, Your Highness still wouldn’t have seen him.”
So that’s how it was.
Feng Lezhen smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Replying to Your Highness,” his voice was tense, still caught between boyhood and manhood, “this servant’s name is Chen Jinan.”
“Chen Jinan…” Feng Lezhen murmured, somehow finding the name familiar.
“You lying dog, how dare you deceive Her Highness! Your name is Chen Dog, not Chen Jinan!” someone kneeling beside him couldn’t hold back and accused him.
Feng Lezhen glanced at that man without much interest. He trembled and quickly kowtowed. “Th-this servant only feared he would spout nonsense in front of Your Highness and spoke up out of desperation. I beg Your Highness’s forgiveness…”
“Ah,” Feng Lezhen’s red lips parted lightly, “I remember now—that name was given by this Eldest Princess.”
Three years ago, she had led an investigation into a case of young boys being tricked into forced labor. He was one of the victims. By the time they rescued him, he’d already been working in a brick kiln for half a year—sixteen years old, but with the size of a thirteen-year-old.
The others rescued were either mentally broken or weeping uncontrollably. Only he remained silent, his eyes calm and undisturbed by all he had suffered. For someone so young to have such resilience—it had caught her interest. Learning he was orphaned and had nowhere to go, she brought him to work at her manor.
After that, she got busy and forgot all about it.
“So it was you,” Feng Lezhen looked at the quiet, still figure, a trace of amusement flashing in her eyes. In three years, he’d gone from a tender shoot to a tall, slender bamboo. No wonder she’d found him familiar but couldn’t recall who he was.
Hearing her say she remembered him, a ripple broke the dead calm in Chen Jinan’s eyes. He seemed like he wanted to speak, but in the end, only bowed solemnly to her.
“How silly,” Ah Ye couldn’t help but laugh.
Feng Lezhen also smiled. “I clearly gave you a new name—why are you still using your old one? Could it be you think the name I gave you is no good?”
Her memory wasn’t poor. Now that she remembered who he was, many things came back to her. Back then, she’d found Chen Quan too crude a name and personally gave him the name Chen Jinan. Judging from the reactions of the others just now, it was clear they only knew him as Chen Quan—meaning that for the past three years in the Eldest Princess Manor, he hadn’t used the name she’d given.
“It’s not that…” Chen Jinan seemed unsure how to explain.
Feng Lezhen turned to look at Fu Zhixian, who had been waiting quietly in the back. “Do you still remember him?”
Having missed his chance to explain, Chen Jinan fell silent.
Fu Zhixian’s brows twitched as he glanced over casually. “Somewhat familiar.”
“When I first brought him into the manor, I said he had handsome features—once he grew up a little more, he could serve as my attending male. Do you remember what you said?” Feng Lezhen spoke lightly with a smile, as if the tension in the carriage earlier had never happened.
Fu Zhixian acted as if nothing had occurred either. “I said, as long as Your Highness is happy, I have no objections.”
Feng Lezhen nodded. “In that case, why not let him serve me tonight?”
At these words, everyone looked at her in stunned silence—everyone except Chen Jinan, who kept his head bowed, as if unfazed.
In the silence, Fu Zhixian met her gaze. After a long pause, he chuckled softly. “As long as it pleases Your Highness.”
“Then it’s settled.” Feng Lezhen didn’t look at him again. She raised her hand, and Ah Ye immediately stepped forward to help her. The two walked together toward the front courtyard.
After about ten meters, her voice sounded again: “Chen Jinan, come here.”
Chen Jinan stood up immediately and followed with head lowered. The man who had accused him earlier was pale as a sheet, scrambling away. Soon, only Fu Zhixian was left standing at the vast back entrance.
Unknowingly, moonlight had already filled the courtyard. Summer nights in the capital were somewhat cooler than the days—but the lamps burning in the main bedchamber made the room feel even warmer than the daylight.
The maids were busy folding quilts, closing windows, lighting incense. Feng Lezhen sat at the dressing table while Ah Ye and two other maids carefully took down her hair. A dozen people moved about the room, each focused on their task—only Chen Jinan stood alone at the door, his thin face composed, not the least bit awkward, like a resilient bamboo that could survive wherever it was placed.
“Your Highness, shall we send for an ice chest? It’s too hot—how can you bear this?” Ah Ye wiped sweat from her face, pleading gently.
Feng Lezhen blinked. “I don’t feel hot at all.”
“You’re sweating!” Ah Ye was exasperated.
“I like this steamy feeling,” Feng Lezhen replied.
Ah Ye: “…” I must invite retired Imperial Physician Cui to visit sometime soon!
Unable to convince her about the ice, she changed the topic. “Your Highness, do you really want him to serve you tonight?”
Feng Lezhen: “Why not?”
“…It’s not that it’s not possible, but one of the servants just reported that Lord Fu hasn’t left. He’s still standing in the courtyard. If someone else attends you, won’t he be heartbroken?” Ah Ye sighed.
Feng Lezhen’s lips curled. “Then what should I do? Make him leave?”
Ah Ye hesitated. “But if he leaves, won’t you be unhappy?”
“I would,” Feng Lezhen said.
Ah Ye gave an awkward smile. “Then let Lord Fu be the one to feel hurt.”
After all, her lady’s mood mattered more than anything else.
Feng Lezhen was quite pleased with her answer and picked up a hairpin from the table, handing it over. “A reward.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Ah Ye accepted it with a grin.
Their conversation wasn’t hushed, every word reached Chen Jinan’s ears. Feng Lezhen glanced at him in the mirror. His expression was calm, neither happy nor angry, but after meeting her gaze in the reflection, a flicker of unease appeared.
Feng Lezhen’s lips lifted.
When her grooming was finished, Ah Ye led the other maids out, thoughtfully closing the door behind her. But just as she turned to leave, she met Fu Zhixian’s eyes.
Ah Ye stiffened for a moment, then approached and greeted him. “Lord Fu.”
“Is Her Highness going to rest?” Fu Zhixian asked.
“…Yes.”
His eyelids twitched. He looked at the closed doors, the lamplight from inside reflecting in his eyes as tiny glimmers. The most elegant and noble young master in all the capital, clothed in fine silk robes, should have looked radiant—but instead carried a chill and loneliness about him.
Ah Ye felt a twinge of sympathy and whispered, “Lord Fu, if there’s nothing urgent, perhaps you should go back for the night.”
Fu Zhixian came back to himself, smiling faintly. “It’s alright. I’ll wait for her here.”
“But Her Highness…”
“I made her angry in the carriage today. I should coax her before I leave,” he interrupted her, still gentle as ever.
Ah Ye was momentarily dazed by the glint in his eyes. As she quietly stepped away, she couldn’t help thinking: Oh, Your Highness… you’re really creating a mess. Letting a shining gem go, and insisting on picking a dusty rock instead.
That “sinful” Eldest Princess yawned and lazily sat down on the footstool at the bed’s edge. Seeing the man still standing at the door with his head lowered, she smiled and said, “Look up.”
Chen Jinan slowly lifted his head. Seeing her dressed only in a single inner layer, hair down over her shoulders, he stiffly lowered his eyes again.
“Come here,” Feng Lezhen said with leisure.
His back grew even straighter. After a moment’s silence, he walked toward her.
Only then did Feng Lezhen notice he had a slight limp in his right leg.
“What happened to your foot?” she frowned.
“I fell,” Chen Jinan replied.
“The paths in the manor are smooth. How could you fall like that?” Feng Lezhen didn’t wait for an answer. Her heart was already clear. “Someone pushed you?”
Chen Jinan’s eyes moved faintly.
Feng Lezhen chuckled and casually picked up a curtain rod beside the bed, pointing it at him. “I only know a few empty forms. You just need to dodge—don’t strike back.”
Chen Jinan froze. Before he could react, the stick tapped him square in the chest.
“Focus,” Feng Lezhen’s smile faded. She reversed her grip and jabbed toward his waist.
Chen Jinan barely dodged, but the stick still landed on his leg.
Just a few moves were enough to test him—he had no martial training at all… He had dared to charge into a place like the Imperial Prison alone; she had assumed he was some reclusive master. Turns out he was just a little madman willing to throw away his life. Feng Lezhen let out a helpless chuckle, watching him leisurely. “Your original name was Chen Quan.”
“Yes.”
“Back in your hometown, there was a saying that the humbler the name, the better a child would survive—so your parents named you that,” Feng Lezhen rested her chin in her hand, repeating what he once said.
Chen Jinan lowered his head. “Yes.”
“And what did I say to you back then, after hearing that name’s origin?” she asked.
Chen Jinan replied quietly, “…Your Highness said that while naming a child like that was well-meaning, in a place like the capital, such a name would invite ridicule. You suggested keeping it as a childhood name and gave me a new name yourself.”
“So it was all my own decision?” she asked.
“…No.” His throat bobbed. After a pause, he answered slowly, “This servant likes the new name.”
“Then why don’t you use it?”
Chen Jinan fell silent.
The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows on the window. Feng Lezhen waited quite a while for an answer. Just as she was about to let him off, she heard him say:
“Because it was bestowed by Your Highness.”
Feng Lezhen paused, confused. She looked at him.
This time, Chen Jinan didn’t avoid her gaze. His black-and-white eyes were calm but unwavering. “It was granted by Your Highness—so I should keep it safe.”
…What kind of logic was that? Feng Lezhen mulled it over and still couldn’t quite make sense of it. In the end, she laughed, half amused, half exasperated. “So your way of keeping it safe is not telling anyone about it?”
Chen Jinan hadn’t felt he’d done anything wrong—until she phrased it like that. Now, he vaguely suspected he’d been a bit foolish.
Laughter floated from the room into the courtyard. Fu Zhixian, standing outside, was momentarily dazed. Though his expression remained calm and his lips still held a faint smile, under the moonlight, his handsome features seemed to lose their color.
Feng Lezhen was increasingly amused. After a while, she said, “A name is meant to be used. If you like it, then stop using ‘Chen Quan’ from now on. If you don’t like it, I won’t force you.”
“I like it…” Chen Jinan quickly said.
“Then don’t hide it anymore.” Her smile lingered as she looked at him.
He nodded awkwardly.
Just as she was about to speak again, she noticed a scrape on his wrist had started to bleed. Tossing the embroidered stick aside, she lazily leaned back on the bed. “Take your clothes off.”
“Your Highness…” Chen Jinan’s voice was tight, and for the first time, his usually calm eyes wavered.
“Undress,” Feng Lezhen said plainly.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. After a brief hesitation, he reached for his belt.
The doors and windows were shut tight. The burning candles brought waves of heat. Under her gaze, Chen Jinan undressed piece by piece. Though his face remained calm, sweat beaded on the tip of his nose.
His washed-thin garments fell in soft piles on the pristine carpet. When all that was left was his underpants, Feng Lezhen finally said, “That’s enough.”
Chen Jinan stopped.
At nineteen, he was caught between youth and adulthood. His frame had grown but still carried a boy’s slenderness. A light layer of muscle covered his bones, giving a sense of proportion. His wrists and knees bore fresh scrapes, and his right ankle was red and abraded. Add to that the old scars from hard labor, the calluses on his fingers and knees—his pale, lean figure looked rather pitiful.
Chen Jinan was well aware that his body wasn’t anything to boast about. Under Feng Lezhen’s amused gaze, he gradually lowered his head.
The heat from the candles rose, thickening the air. On the wall, two overlapping shadows danced, intertwining. Even the air felt sticky.
Amid the silence, Feng Lezhen looked him over with unhurried ease. “Do you know why I called you in here?”
“…I do.”
