Chapter 53: Errant Thoughts: Taking the Indirect Path as Direct

She hadn’t expected Zhao Huairen’s reaction to her touch to be so intense. Yan Yiqing withdrew her hand that had met empty air, but her gaze remained fixed on Zhao Huairen.

“Young Master,” at the same time, Qin An lightly knocked on the carriage body and asked toward the interior, “Shall we rein in the horses and stop?”

Zhao Huairen snapped back to her senses at the sound. She unexpectedly met those dark, moist eyes and realized her earlier reaction had been overly dramatic. A flash of annoyance crossed the depths of her eyes. She pursed her lips and said, “It’s nothing. Continue driving.”

“Yes,” Qin An replied.

The tips of her fingers seemed to still retain that delicate sensation. Yan Yiqing tightened her fingers and subtly glanced at Zhao Huairen without a change in expression.

Those lips that always held a hint of a smile.

Now, there wasn’t the slightest upward curve to be found.

The aura around her was strange and distant. The woman stared down at her toes, looking as if she didn’t even want to exchange half a sentence with her.

Even liking her made her unhappy.

That kind of physical contact—Huairen must be angry.

“Young Master, I was just worried earlier,” Yan Yiqing carefully chose her words. After a moment of silence, she finally came up with a suitable excuse. “The Vice Minister of War’s case has been delayed for three days. The Hejia Princess will surely cause trouble at the Dali Temple again in the next couple of days. If the Young Master falls ill, the case might take a turn for the worse.”

Zhao Huairen’s eyelashes trembled as she nodded slightly.

“It’s just concern between friends. This case is closely tied to me, so the Young Master surely won’t overthink it, right?” Yan Yiqing appeared calm on the surface, but her peripheral vision constantly observed Zhao Huairen’s expression. Care makes one chaotic.

Yan Yiqing was only concerned about the case.

She had merely touched her forehead—what was she overthinking?

Her face alternated between flushing and paling. Zhao Huairen forcibly suppressed her chaotic thoughts and said indifferently, “Young Master Yan needn’t worry. I’ve already made arrangements for the follow-up matters. This affair won’t have anything to do with you.”

She really wanted to ask about her health again.

But Yan Yiqing didn’t dare utter a single word of concern.

In the end, she merely squeezed out three dry words: “That’s good.”

Both of them felt they had done exceedingly well, striving to make every sentence sound perfectly natural. Yet, for some reason, the atmosphere inside the carriage not only failed to return to normal but grew increasingly awkward—awkward enough to make them fidget uncomfortably.

Yan Yiqing clasped her palms together and fanned herself, searching for words. “The weather is getting hotter and hotter.”

Her crow-black eyelashes were thick and dense. After spending some time in the capital, the woman’s skin had become a bit fairer. The hair at her temples was lightly lifted by the breeze from her hand—ebony hair against snow-white skin. Zhao Huairen’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to her.

Zhao Huairen hastily glanced once.

She pursed her lips tightly and didn’t dare look up at her again.

“Why isn’t the Young Master saying anything?” Yan Yiqing had thought this would ease the awkwardness, but instead, the air grew even more stagnant. Helpless, she pursed her lips. “Just because I accidentally bumped into you, are you made of gold or something?”

It was just polite concern.

But such kindness—ended up twisted by her own unfounded imaginings.

“I’m sorry. This has nothing to do with Young Master Yan.” The more she thought, the more despicable she felt herself. Zhao Huairen’s ear tips burned as her clear voice carried a slight tremor compared to usual. “It’s just that I… don’t particularly like physical contact with others.”

She didn’t like being touched?

But before, they had clearly held hands three times.

Though her heart argued thus, Yan Yiqing was very accommodating. “Alright, I’ll remember that from now on.”

A trace of darkness flitted through her light brown phoenix eyes. Zhao Huairen nodded lightly.

“Young Master Yan, we’ve arrived at the Si Nong Temple,” Qin An’s voice came from outside the carriage.

She had never deluded herself into thinking she could get close to her overnight. After several nights of tossing and turning, Yan Yiqing had already made ample preparations. Her gaze swept over the woman’s face, her eyes holding a like that was both fervent and restrained. She said dully, “Young Master, I’m getting off.”

Like a Guanyin statue oblivious to sorrow or joy.

Her fingertips twitched slightly. Zhao Huairen raised her eyes to look at her.

She hadn’t expected a response anyway. With fingers slightly callused, Yan Yiqing lifted the carriage curtain and hopped down lightly.

The warm yellow morning light pierced through the clouds, spilling wantonly over the earth and casually gilding the woman with a layer of halo.

Her figure was slender and well-proportioned.

With long legs striding lightly, Yan Yiqing entered the Si Nong Temple alone.

Just before stepping inside, on a sudden impulse, she turned her head back for a glance.

The carriage bearing the Duke Rui’s Mansion insignia had already driven away from the Si Nong Temple. And that gaze she had vaguely sensed earlier—clearly, it had just been her illusion.

Even though the carriage had long departed, the fingers clutching the curtain hadn’t let go. Her sword brows furrowed tightly, and her clear phoenix eyes filled with helplessness and bewilderment.

Why had it turned out like this?

When exactly had all this begun?

The more she pondered, the clearer the red figure became in her mind—like scorching flames that could effortlessly devour her reason.

Should she trace it back to that startling glimpse upon returning to the capital, or the encounter at the Myriad Treasures Building? Was it the palpitation on the night of the grand wedding, or perhaps… the soul-seizing moment at the palace banquet?

If she had to get to the root of it.

It seemed that from the very start, her gaze had fallen upon her.

She utterly didn’t want to think of her anymore, yet she was helpless against her own feelings. Zhao Huairen annoyedly pursed her thin lips.

Yan Yiqing wouldn’t fancy her at all.

Moreover… with her identity, how could she possibly be together with her?

She blocked every possible path in her mind. Her breathing grew heavy and slow, her throat bobbed, and the rippling pond surface returned to calm.

On the surface.

Everything appeared as usual, without the slightest anomaly.

—

The sun rose and the moon set; morning light descended upon the earth once more.

Heart matters that could be told to no one.

One more made no difference to Zhao Huairen.

After blooming through the entire night, the edges of the lilies had curled slightly, but their sweet fragrance filled the entire study.

Knock knock. The door to the study was pushed open.

Zhao Huairen, who usually rose at this time on ordinary days, was already neatly dressed today, sitting clearly-eyed before the desk.

Holding pale pink hollyhocks in her arms, Zhichun looked at the candelabrum piled with wax drippings and pouted. “Mm… Young Master, did you stay up all night?”

“I slept.” Long lashes lifted lightly as Zhao Huairen explained, “The summer heat was a bit oppressive. I didn’t sleep soundly and got up early.”

“Really?” The little maid’s gaze held doubt.

“Why would I lie to you?”

Gazing at the beauty as clear as a breeze after rain, Zhichun nodded half-believingly, closed the door, and entered the study with the flowers.

“The one who’s been sending you flowers every day these past few days,” rising from the official hat chair, Zhao Huairen glanced at the hollyhocks in Zhichun’s arms and casually asked, “Is it someone I know?”

Seeing Zhao Huairen inquire about the hollyhocks she held, Zhichun hemmed and hawed, unsure how to explain: Yan Yiqing sent a large bouquet each time, all perfect for vase arrangements, so she couldn’t resist taking a few branches for the study…

“After this year’s birthday passes, you’ll be seventeen.”

She was indeed almost seventeen, but why did the Young Master suddenly bring this up? Zhichun gripped the flower stems tightly, her round almond eyes filled with confusion. “Why does the Young Master suddenly mention this?”

“Nothing.”

Zhao Huairen didn’t press further about the flowers’ origin, instantly relieving Zhichun. She walked slowly to the desk, removed yesterday’s fragrant blooms, and inserted the pale pink hollyhocks into the porcelain vase at the corner. “Could it be… the Young Master thinks this servant is getting too old?”

The fingers resting on the book paused for an instant. Zhao Huairen chuckled helplessly. “How could I think you’re too old? By calculation, I’m still two years older than you.”

The warm, lustrous white porcelain perfectly set off the hollyhocks’ softness. As Zhichun arranged the petals with her fingertips, a faint sweet scent wafted through the study—damp honey mixed with green grass, fresh and subtly sweet.

“As long as the Young Master doesn’t mind Zhichun.” The little maid blinked.

A fleeting sweetness brushed her nose. Zhao Huairen gazed at the girl before her, who had grown into a graceful young lady. A complex depth flitted through her light brown phoenix eyes as she said warmly, “No matter what happens, Linzhu Courtyard will always be your home.”

She would take Mingchun’s place.

And properly protect her little sister.

Her round eyes brimmed with adoration. Zhichun’s voice was sweetly crisp. “I knew the Young Master was the best to me!”

…

After half a stick of incense, the mistress and servant exited the study.

Zhao Huairen subconsciously glanced to the left, but even as she neared the courtyard gate, that noisy person didn’t appear in the familiar spot—like the past few days, squeezing onto her carriage with some clumsy excuse.

“What’s wrong with the Young Master?” Zhichun asked.

Today was already the fourth day.

The time was ripe; the Hejia Princess wouldn’t wait any longer.

Her thoughts gathered in an instant. Zhao Huairen no longer distracted herself and softly instructed Zhichun, “Go pack my luggage for me. If nothing unexpected happens, Zhuyu and I need to go on a trip for a few days.”

“Where is the Young Master going? Out of the city?” At the words, Zhichun’s eyes lit up like an excited little hamster. “Young Master, Zhichun has never left the Yan Capital before!”

“Yumu County.”

Those simple three words shattered Zhichun’s fantasies. She blinked dazedly, the meaning in her eyes all too clear: Why Yumu County? What was the Young Master going there for? Wasn’t there a famine raging there right now?

The less she knew, the safer.

Zhao Huairen never discussed such matters with Zhichun.

“Alright, go back to your room and pack.” With that, Zhao Huairen turned and walked out of the courtyard.

At the same time, in the main chamber of Linzhu Courtyard.

“The news will reach the palace by the si hour,” Jia Lan stood respectfully beside Yan Yiqing, relaying, “His Highness’s meaning is that the Palm Mirror Envoy must handle this personally.”

Yan Yiqing’s brows knitted tightly, her gaze fixed on the letter in her hand.

Prince Gong and the Hejia Princess…

This aunt and nephew pair were truly bold.

“I understand.” She dipped the corner of the letter paper into the flame. Yan Yiqing raised her eyes to look out the window, watching Zhao Huairen leave Linzhu Courtyard as she spoke, “Go back and tell His Highness that once the palace decree comes down, I will proactively request assignment from the Si Nong Temple Minister.”

“Yes.” Jia Lan departed upon receiving the order.

Only the sound of one person’s breathing remained in the main chamber.

Yan Yiqing extinguished the candle flame. Instead of chasing after Zhao Huairen’s footsteps, she slowly walked to the bronze mirror.

Huairen’s unusual behavior yesterday.

Perhaps she had already sensed something amiss.

If she forced her way forward today under the pretext of coincidence, she might deliberately distance herself again, just like before.

Her rippling peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly. Yan Yiqing thought to herself: As the art of war says, take the indirect as direct, turn misfortune into advantage.

If Huairen didn’t want her to like her.

Then the best method was to make her like herself.

With Huairen’s vigilance and defenses, she absolutely couldn’t be impatient for quick results. She needed to accumulate slowly, proceed circuitously… The identity of friend seemed restrictive but actually facilitated action.

Gazing at her reflection in the bronze mirror.

Her lips curved slightly upward, Yan Yiqing’s eyes full of self-appreciation.

She was so wonderful.

How could Huairen possibly not like her?