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With those distinct, knuckle-defined hands peeling away the shell, a translucent pink shrimp was dropped into the porcelain dish beside him.
Jiang Zhiyi watched as the man across from her gazed at her with an almost tender yet punitive expression. Steeling herself, she reluctantly picked up the shrimp with her chopsticks and slowly brought it to her mouth.
Yuan Ce smiled as he watched the shrimp disappear between her red lips and pearly teeth, asking, “Does it taste good?”
The fresh sweetness spread across her tongue, only to be chased away by his chilling question. Her chopsticks clicked against her teeth, and she shakily nodded.
Yuan Ce continued to peel another shrimp.
It seemed as though a whirlwind of emotions swirled within him—anger, frustration, and something else he couldn’t quite release. All that pent-up energy now channeled into his fingers as he peeled the shrimp with the intensity of conquering a fortress. One after another, the shrimp landed in the porcelain dish like boulders hurled during a siege—each one precise.
As a crystalline mountain of shrimp began to pile up beside her, Jiang Zhiyi couldn’t keep up with his pace. Despair washed over her, and tears welled in her eyes: “… Slow down, or eat some yourself. How can I possibly finish this entire plate?”
Yuan Ce shook his head solemnly: “I won’t compete with you. They’re all yours.”
“…” She could hardly express her gratitude.
Jiang Zhiyi lowered her head, sipping some soup to steady herself, then picked up another shrimp with her chopsticks. Just as she was about to put it in her mouth, her vision blurred for a moment, and another perfectly peeled shrimp appeared before her.
Her chopsticks paused near her lips, and she moved them aside, weakly resting her hand on her temple: “I can’t eat anymore, truly…”
Yuan Ce’s hands stopped peeling, and he glanced up at her.
“Do you know what ‘draining the pond to catch all the fish’ means?” Seizing the opportunity presented by his wavering gaze, Jiang Zhiyi pleaded, “If I eat this entire plate of shrimp today, I might never want to eat shrimp again. You’ll lose your chance to peel shrimp for me in the future.”
“Are you saying that if I let you off today, you’ll still eat the shrimp I peel in the future?”
She wasn’t sure she’d make it through today, but she answered vaguely anyway: “I can consider it…”
Yuan Ce sighed softly and tilted his chin toward the chopsticks in her hand, casually saying, “Give them to me.”
Realizing what he meant, Jiang Zhiyi extended her hand and placed the shrimp held between her chopsticks into his bowl.
Before she could release the chopsticks, Yuan Ce opened his mouth: “Bring it here.”
Both the shrimp and her hand froze mid-air.
Yuan Ce: “If you can’t eat anymore, let me help you. But you need to show some sincerity, don’t you?”
Fuming, Jiang Zhiyi raised her chopsticks and placed the shrimp at his lips.
Yuan Ce opened his mouth, took it in, chewed a few times, swallowed, and nodded appreciatively: “Give me the rest too.”
Jiang Zhiyi picked up the small mountain of shrimp beside her.
“One at a time. We can’t have the person helping you get penalized choke to death, can we?”
Holding back her frustration, Jiang Zhiyi picked up another shrimp and fed it to him.
By the time she had fed him the entire plate of shrimp, her hand was sore from exhaustion. Only then did she come to her senses—the person who had punished her by making her eat shrimp was none other than himself. How had he turned it around to make it seem like he was helping her? Was he a bandit?
And… why did this bandit insist on using her chopsticks!
After a chaotic dinner, Mu Xin Hong and Li Da Feng finally arrived.
This bandit finally left the inner courtyard to discuss matters with his two trusted aides. Before leaving, he confirmed three locations with her: the San Yu Bookstore where the storybook was delivered, the ready-made clothing shop where she lost her dress, and the street where her sedan bench broke apart, along with approximate times when these incidents occurred.
Jiang Zhiyi herself didn’t remember, but fortunately, Jingzhe was meticulous and helped recall the details one by one.
Once Yuan Ce left, the mistress and maid continued to review every detail, checking for any overlooked clues.
The storybook was now locked in the book box in the Yaoguang Pavilion, unnoticed by anyone. They couldn’t afford to panic and inadvertently expose the matter. Sending messages carried risks, so Yuan Ce had decided to send a trusted aide personally to Chang’an. However, the journey would take considerable time, so he asked them to think of any additional leads to gather everything at once.
Jingzhe: “The clues we have now are far too insignificant. We questioned both the clothing shop and the bookstore initially, and neither proprietor knew anything. Even when you asked the bookstore owner to find the second volume of the storybook and its author, there was no response. Now, more than half a year has passed, and it will be even harder to investigate. Those who don’t know won’t reveal anything, no matter how much pressure they face.”
Indeed, was there really no one involved who knew the truth?
Jiang Zhiyi frowned in thought: “If, as Yuan Ce said, those events weren’t due to the storybook manifesting but were orchestrated by someone, could my memory loss also have been tampered with? Could there be someone involved who knows the truth?”
“You hitting your head was such a random event—it’s impossible for anyone to manipulate that…” Jingzhe trailed off, shaking her head. “At most, someone could’ve acted as a hidden hand, leading you to encounter those bandits. But those bandits were sent by Lady Shen. Not only is it impossible for her to foresee your accident and memory loss, but she also desperately wanted you to marry the eldest son. She wouldn’t allow you to become close to General Shen after losing your memory.”
Jiang Zhiyi carefully traced Jingzhe’s words: “You’re saying… perhaps someone acted as a hidden hand, but that person definitely wasn’t Aunt Shen. So, the reason I encountered the bandits—was there anyone else who played a crucial role?”
Midway through her sentence, both mistress and maid suddenly recalled something, their pupils contracting: “That wandering Daoist?!”
In the study of the main courtyard, the three men discussing matters were caught in a silent stalemate when suddenly the door was knocked. Jiang Zhiyi entered hurriedly with Guyu.
Without waiting for Mu Xin Hong and Li Da Feng to stand and bow, Jiang Zhiyi waved her hand dismissively and rushed to Yuan Ce behind the desk, cutting straight to the point: “I remembered something. The day before I hit my head, Guyu encountered a wandering Daoist in Changxing Lane. That person told her that someone in her family was under the protection of the Three Pure Ones, but they hadn’t personally gone to offer incense or repay their vows at the shrine. He warned that they might suffer divine retribution…”
As Yuan Ce listened, he pulled over a chair for her.
Jiang Zhiyi sat down and continued speaking without pause: “I remember that to counter Aunt Shen’s superstitions, I did go to Taiqing Temple to consult with Master Zhang. On the day I hit my head, I was planning to visit the temple to fulfill a vow. If it weren’t for that wandering Daoist, I wouldn’t have gone out that day.”
Her words hung in the air, and the room fell silent as the three of them sank into deep thought.
Yuan Ce slowly clenched his hand resting on his knee. After a long moment, he let out a faint laugh: “It’s always those Daoists.”
Mu Xin Hong and Li Da Feng exchanged glances. If there was one thing Yuan Ce despised most in life, it was the royal family; second only to that were the fraudulent Daoists who concocted schemes for the imperial court.
Mu Xin Hong turned to Guyu: “How can you be sure the person you encountered was a wandering Daoist?”
“Reporting to General Mu,” Guyu replied, “the man I saw was dressed in tattered clothes, wearing an eye patch that covered half his face, as if he were blind in one eye. His divination banner was also torn and worn—hence my assumption…”
“Appearances can be deceiving. Given this connection to Taiqing Temple… have you ever met Master Zhang?”
“Do you suspect that the man was Master Zhang in disguise? That’s highly unlikely. The two looked completely different to me. Master Zhang appears to be around thirty, while the wandering Daoist seemed to be over fifty.”
“Do you still remember the man’s appearance?”
“I don’t recall it fully, but I do have some vague impressions…”
Yuan Ce tilted his chin toward Li Da Feng: “Doctor Li is skilled in painting. Go with him and describe what you remember so he can sketch a likeness.”
Li Da Feng stood up and headed to the study’s adjoining room. Guyu quickly followed.
Yuan Ce then pointed at Mu Xin Hong: “Add another location to investigate—Taiqing Temple and that Master Zhang.”
Mu Xin Hong nodded and quietly withdrew.
With everyone dispersed, the room grew quiet, leaving only Yuan Ce and Jiang Zhiyi sitting across from each other at the desk.
Jiang Zhiyi rested her chin on her hand, lightly massaging her temple with her fingertips. She wondered about the strange turn of events. Could that old Daoist truly be a sage capable of foreseeing the future and predicting her memory loss? But even if such mystical abilities existed, why would he interfere in her life when they had no connection?
Lost in thought, she suddenly felt a shadow fall over her, followed by warm fingertips pressing against her temple.
Startled, Jiang Zhiyi whipped her head around to see Yuan Ce standing behind her, his thumb gently circling her temple. Her eyes widened in surprise: “What are you doing?”
“Don’t you have a headache?” Yuan Ce asked, his calloused thumb softly rotating against her skin.
The roughness of his hands pressed against her delicate skin. Her headache faded, but a tingling sensation spread instead.
“I—I’ll have Jingzhe massage it for me. Your technique might end up hurting me!” Jiang Zhiyi stood up and moved away.
Yuan Ce’s hands found empty air. After a moment’s thought, he turned toward the adjoining room and called out: “Doctor Li, how exactly do you massage someone’s temple?” He added loudly, “Oh, and it’s for a very delicate, precious young lady.”
Jiang Zhiyi: “...”
Why not just say her name outright?
The person inside seemed momentarily speechless before replying dryly: “Be gentle. Don’t use your killing techniques.”
“You see? I’m being very gentle,” Yuan Ce shrugged. “You didn’t even cry out.”
“If I start crying out, that means you’ve done something terrible!” Jiang Zhiyi shot him a glare, turned, and walked out of the study. “We’re done discussing important matters. I’m going back.”
“Can you walk alone at night? Wait by the door. I’ll escort you.” Yuan Ce stepped into the adjoining room and instructed Li Da Feng, “I’m stepping out for a bit. I’ll be back late—or maybe not at all. If I don’t return, make sure to put away the portrait.”
Li Da Feng looked up from his ink and brush: “Understood.”
Yuan Ce nodded, turned to leave, then paused as if remembering something. He turned back and said: “Doctor Li, even your medical skills can mislead sometimes.”
“What?”
“You probably haven’t heard yet—she doesn’t like my older brother.”
“...”
“Not only does she dislike him, but she also detests him.”
“She scorned me because she thought I was my older brother.”
“Now that she knows I’m me—”
“Congratulations,” Li Da Feng said expressionlessly, raising his brush to point at Yuan Ce. “But I suggest you leave immediately, or I can’t guarantee I’ll still be able to draw a proper likeness of you.”
After Yuan Ce escorted her back to the inner courtyard, Jiang Zhiyi felt tired. She bathed under Jingzhe’s care and prepared to retire early.
Stepping out of the bathhouse, she found the man who had returned to the inner courtyard earlier still lingering in her bedroom, standing in front of her dressing table and leaning down to examine the bronze mirror intently.
Jiang Zhiyi intended to ask, “Why are you still here?” But seeing him so seriously scrutinizing her mirror, her heart tightened. She approached cautiously, crouching behind him: “Is something wrong with this mirror? Could someone have tampered with it...?”
“It’s fine,” Yuan Ce squinted at the reflection in the mirror. “It’s clearer than the one in my room.”
“You’re looking at the mirror?” Jiang Zhiyi blinked in confusion. “What are you looking at?”
“I’m checking—whether my older brother and I really look alike.”
“...”
“Can we stop talking about your older brother? I told you I hate him!” Jiang Zhiyi shoved him away angrily, sat down at the dressing table, picked up a small silver bottle with a narrow mouth, poured a few drops of hand lotion onto her palm, and rubbed it in.
Yuan Ce stood behind her, bending down to gaze at her delicate brows and red lips reflected in the mirror: “Yes, you hate my older brother so much. Then why, looking at my face, did you still feed me shrimp?”
“...”
Before she could retort that it was because this bandit forced her, she raised her head and realized how close he was. His face was nearly touching her cheek, as if whispering against her ear.
Her breath caught, and all her thoughts vanished.
Looking at his face so close to hers, and their reflections side by side in the mirror, she truly couldn’t recall disliking Shen Yuan Ce.
“So...” Jiang Zhiyi nervously gazed at Yuan Ce in the mirror.
“So, maybe I’m not as dirty as I thought.”
The tension in Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes suddenly dissipated.
Yuan Ce raised his hand and showed it to her: “This hand has been wielding a blade for fifteen years, stained with countless lives—but you were willing to eat the shrimp I peeled for you.”
Her throat tightened as she stared at his long, broad hand with its intricate lines, finally understanding why he fixated on her saying, “I think Brother Ce is the cleanest person in the world,” and whether she would eat the shrimp he peeled.
In those hidden years, he might have even loathed the things this hand touched.
Jiang Zhiyi’s mind froze, unsure of what to say in response. She blurted out randomly: “... Eating a few shrimp isn’t much. Haven’t I already shared a bed with you?”
A flicker of surprise passed through Yuan Ce’s eyes. He hadn’t expected her to bring this up voluntarily. Blinking, he said: “Since the esteemed Miss doesn’t mind, shall we share a pillow again tonight?”