It was a curious thing to learn something directly from the man you were previously deathly afraid of. But against all odds, no matter how utterly bored and frustrated Song Chang had seemed with his job, he got enthusiastic whenever Yue Xing would come by the study in the afternoons to practice.

  Yue Xing could hardly believe that the man who gently guided his hand and jokingly corrected his silly mistakes was the same person those nasty rumors were about. Song Chang wasn’t mean, or short tempered, or even sour—not to him at least, or even to any of the other people who frequented the study in the hours Yue Xing was there to observe.

  Maybe Song Chang was just a really good actor, only waiting to garner Yue Xing's trust before he finally bared his teeth and broke him down. But in the meantime, Yue Xing was more than happy to take advantage of these fleeting moments.

  And due to his seemingly endlessly patient teacher, Yue Xing felt he was improving rapidly. Song Chang had said so himself when he called his mind akin to that of a dry sponge dropped into a vast ocean.

  Yue Xing got more used to the atmosphere of the study as well. As magical and otherworldly as it had seemed at first, the more natural the whole place started to feel to him. The constant rustle of papers, the quiet murmur of junior scribes, the gentle swishes the ink made on the sheets—it felt a lot more homely than the kitchen ever did.

  A few weeks after their arrangement had begun, towards the end of the first autumn month, Yue Xing found himself in the study again.

  It was barely past noon, there was still a tray of half eaten food pushed to the side on Song Chang's desk. The man himself was buried between letters and hastily written ledgers. He didn't seem one bit pleased with having to do actual work.

  Yue Xing sat opposite him, focused readily on the task at hand. He looked between the text and then his own copy, scrunching up his nose and pushing the brush against the paper once more to correct the character he messed up.

  Song Chang had given him this same text after their first session, to pick out the words he could already understand. Now, not even a month later, he could already make out most of the story about a boy and his adventures with various yao beasts.

  Obviously, it was a book meant for little children, and Yue Xing should've felt at least a little embarrassed to be entertained by such silly stories. But he hadn't even half the mind to do so. He was way too proud of himself for being able to actually read.

  With a few finishing touches he gently blew on the paper, watching in rapt fascination as the wet spots in the ink dried up. “Here,” he shyly held the sheet out to Song Chang, who seemed more than relieved to finally have an excuse to take his eyes off the work in front of him.

  “Woah, this is actually… Pretty good.” the man smiled, his eyes flitting from the paper to Yue Xing and back. All Yue Xing could do was flush a nice, warm shade of red in the cheeks. He still wasn’t at all used to the compliments Song Chang was so freely giving out.

  “Thank you.” Even with the blush creeping on his face, he felt very proud of his work. “I've been practicing at night with the scrolls you gave me, Lord Song.” Song Chang smiled, giving a pleased laugh.

  “Yes, I can see that. You have quite the dark circles under your eyes to show for it.” the man teased, and Yue Xing could merely sputter in exasperation. Was this what Auntie Ye meant when she said that Song Chang was rumored to be mean? Maybe people were talking about his endless barrage of teasing. Yue Xing could barely stand it.

  Song Chang only laughed harder at that, the dark circles under his own eyes almost smoothing out with joy.

  Yue Xing nearly forgot they weren’t alone, but Zhan Wei was always more than glad to cut both of their enjoyment short. The senior scribe stood from his own desk, stepping over to them with a swish of his long sleeves and plucked Yue Xing’s hours of hard work off the table. He had likely heard Song Chang compliment it for once and wanted to see for himself.

  Zhan Wei adjusted his spectacles, his greying eyebrows knit together as he surveyed the paper. Yue Xing already felt cold sweat beading down his back. As much as Song Chang usually entertained his poor attempts at writing, the senior almost always swooped in to harshly critique it.

  It wasn’t in vain of course, Yue Xing was actually very happy upon receiving feedback, no matter how harsh the words always sounded from Zhan Wei’s mouth. Yue Xing always made a point to improve upon whatever Zhan Wei found subpar that day.

  “The lines are wobbly on this one and this one,” he pointed to specific characters with a bony finger. “This one is written in the wrong order.” he said to another one, and Yue Xing bit down on his lower lip to avoid saying he could tell which ones Zhan Wei was pointing at.

  Instead he smiled meekly, putting his hands together in thanks. “Thank you, Xiansheng. I’ll correct it.” Yue Xing knew that Zhan Wei meant well.

  Zhan Wei huffed and placed the paper back down in front of Song Chang, before stepping back to his own desk. All of a sudden, the senior scribe tossed Yue Xing a different scroll, and Yue Xing could barely scramble to catch it. “If you spend so much time taking up space in the study, at least make yourself useful. If you’re truly as eager to learn as you say, then copying children’s tales is not very dignified.”

  Yue Xing carefully unrolled the paper, finding it full of numbers and other confusing things. At the very top, he could make out the words for autumn and festival.

  “I’m going to need a copy of it by tomorrow, you hear me?” Zhan Wei asked, sitting back behind his desk. Yue Xing nodded readily. He wasn’t about to turn down a challenge.

  “Yes, Xiansheng.” he answered. That seemed to satisfy Zhan Wei for the time being.

  Yue Xing glanced back at Song Chang, who merely wore an amused expression, a smile dancing on his lips. “Won’t that be too hard?” he asked, in the same way one would inquire from a child that they knew was taking on something way too difficult for their level. Yue Xing shook his head resolutely. He rolled up the scroll and placed it next to his book.

  “Not at all.” he hummed stubbornly. Song Chang only sighed a soft chuckle.

  Someone knocked on the door, and without waiting for an answer, an attendant pushed the door of the study open. He had a complicated expression, his hands twisting in one another as he stepped in. The door was not fully closed after him, as if he was expecting someone to follow closely after.

  Song Chang’s relaxed stature stiffened up once more, his face twisting in agitation at the interruption. The attendant put his hands together and bowed low in greeting, speaking quickly and quietly.

  “Lady Feng Jiaying is here.” he said nervously, and the moment the words left his mouth, as if waiting for her arrival to be announced, the door flew open.

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  The person who stepped in could only be described as one hell of a personality. She wore a brightly colored hanfu, all sorts of pinks, blues and yellows blending together to form her outfit, complemented by dazzling golden jewelry, starting from her dark ebony hair, to the ones jingling on her shoes.

  She wore a bright and beautiful smile and swayed an ornate fan in one of her hands, which was of course accompanied by a cacophony of jingling. “Chang-er!” she called out, her voice strong but still sickly sweet and stirring up the earlier serenity of the study.

  Song Chang stood immediately, his eyes blown wide with shock upon seeing the woman called Feng Jiaying. “You—” he sputtered, taking a step towards the newcomer in bewilderment. “Jiaying, what are you…”

  “Doing here?” Feng Jiaying smiled widely, fanning herself absentmindedly. “The Mid-Autumn Festival is in two days. Can’t I wish to spend it with you, Chang-er?” As she spoke, her eyes wandered all over the place, as if actively judging what kind of conditions Song Chang was working in.

  It wasn't as if Song Chang wasn't happy to see Feng Jiaying—it had been over eight months since he'd last seen her—but he knew the woman well enough to know that she only really appeared when trouble was imminent. That, or she herself was the one causing the trouble.

  Song Chang furrowed his eyebrows, trying to put on a somewhat less horrified expression. “I thought you’d be spending it with Mother and Father in the capital.”

  Feng Jiaying hummed, snapping her fan closed with a tinkle and tapping the tip of it to her chin. She pursed her cherry red lips in a playful manner. She was making that very same face she used to annoy Song Chang with when they were children.

  “I suppose.” Feng Jiaying shrugged her shoulders and waved one of her beautifully manicured hands. At the motion, one of the attendants swiftly rushed over and pulled out a seat for the lady.

  Feng Jiaying smiled as she took a seat by the desk, her favorite fan already open and swaying in her hand again. “But Yan’an Town is far closer than the capital is, anyway. It’s just much more convenient. Ever since I relocated to Tianhai City, everything is just so far away.”

  The woman lamented, and Song Chang found himself growing agitated at Feng Jiaying’s complaints. “It’s almost as if I told you not to follow after me to Hepo, because there's nothing here.” he huffed, sitting back into his own seat with a huff.

  Song Chang motioned for the attendants to bring something to drink and clear away the remnants of his lunch. He knew his sister liked to delight in pleasantries like alcohol, especially after being on the dusty road. He snuck a glance to Yue Xing, who seemed to naturally melt into the background of any scene at any given moment. Song Chang furrowed his eyebrows at the thought.

  As the servant placed two glazed cups in front of them, Feng Jiaying continued to chatter, as his attention was quickly diverted back to her. “Oh, but there are lots of things out here! Untapped market, most importantly!” she raised her cup to her lips, and downed the fine wine in one elegant gulp. Song Chang only swirled the liquid around in his own cup.

  “Whatever.” He shook his head. “It’s not as if you’ve ever listened to me, Jiaying. Do as you’d like. But maybe don’t mention we’re related. Your business would collapse the second people find out.” At his genuine word of caution, Feng Jiaying only let out a laugh.

  “So dramatic, Chang-er. You’ve always been too hard on yourself.” His sister smiled, reaching out to pinch his cheek, if Song Chang hadn’t batted her hand away at the last moment.

  He placed his cup down on the table with a soft clink, sliding it across to Feng Jiaying, who caught it with the precision of someone who definitely doesn’t daydrink.

  Song Chang sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “In any case, I happen to be busy at the moment. I have an actual job, you know.” He gave a pointed look at his desk, then made the terrible mistake of accidentally glancing at Yue Xing for a split second.

  Feng Jiaying, ever the hawk-eyed business woman, followed his line of sight in an instant. Song Chang could swear he saw Yue Xing pale under the sudden parallel attention. He had hoped that his sister simply wouldn't notice the young man, and so Song Chang wouldn't have to explain the situation to her.

  “Who is this gentleman? Are you new? I’m sure I didn’t see you the last time I was here.” Feng Jiaying smiled widely, the second cup of wine already empty in her hand.

  Song Chang couldn’t possibly have told her the truth. Oh, yes, jiejie. This is the unfortunate soul that I kidnapped from his family, and now I’m being petty and thinking I can give him a better life in this failing hellhole of a county. So, what are your hobbies?

  “This is Yue Xing.” he said quickly, trying to keep his cool to the best of his abilities. “He’s a junior scribe. We were just going over the festival preparations.” Song Chang said, motioning calmly to the scroll held tightly in Yue Xing’s palm.

  Feng Jiaying hummed, glancing over Yue Xing’s form. Song Chang wasn’t at all convinced his swiftly made up story was believable in any way. Though Yue Xing didn’t look nearly as dirty and sickly as when he’d first arrived at Liming Manor, he was still far too thin to be safely passed off as a young master learning under the magistrate.

  Whether Feng Jiaying believed him or simply chose not to call out his lie at that moment remained unclear to him. Feng Jiaying’s eyes passed from Yue Xing’s face down to the desk, settling on the book forgotten there.

  “And that storybook?” she motioned to it with an amused expression. “Is that part of the preparation as well?”

  A dark patch of blush crept up Yue Xing’s bronze cheeks. Though seeming incredibly flustered, he quickly answered. “No, it’s, ah, for my… little sister. It must have fallen out of my bag.” Yue Xing said, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Song Chang couldn't have been more thankful to him for playing along.

  He cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation away from Yue Xing before Feng Jiaying became too suspicious. “If you plan to stay for the celebrations, you should go find Li Zhong to arrange some accommodations for you. Since you decided to show up unannounced, I didn’t get anything set up for you.”

  Feng Jiaying’s lips pulled into a wolfish grin. She cocked a thin eyebrow. “Shooing me away, Chang-er? I just got here and you’re already trying to get rid of me. I should honestly be offended to be treated like this. Won’t you show me to my room yourself?” Feng Jiaying sighed theatrically.

  And she dared calling him dramatic. How ridiculous.

  “I’m simply busy at the moment. It’s not only you who’ll need to be accounted for and entertained at the festival.” Song Chang huffed resolutely, doing everything in his power to get his sister out of the study as soon as possible.

  Feng Jiaying’s lip twitched, but her mouth stayed in a smile, even if it seemed a little tight. Song Chang knew that no matter how patient Feng Jiaying was when it came to business, when someone wasn’t dancing the way she wanted, she was bound to get irritated very quickly.

  “How rigid you’ve become, Chang-er. Always using work as an excuse. You’re starting to make me think you actually enjoy this job.” His sister always knew how to jab where it hurt the most. “Come now, you have a study full of all these capable lords and ladies. I’m sure they can handle themselves well while you’re away for a couple little hours.”

  Feng Jiaying tapped the tip of her fan to her chin with a sweet smile. If Song Chang hadn’t known her his whole life, he might’ve believed her act. “My little brother’s been working himself to the bone. I think he deserves a break. Don’t you think so, Yue Xing?”

  Yue Xing almost fell out of his seat after being suddenly spoken to directly by such an illustriously wolfish woman. Song Chang didn’t blame him. Even he himself often shivered at Feng Jiaying’s extremely unsettling charms.

  “Of course.” Yue Xing squeaked, his hands tightening against the scroll, and his eyes darted to look anywhere but at Feng Jiaying.

  The woman seemed quite satisfied with the answer. She sat back with a delighted smile, and looked at Song Chang with a victorious glint in her eyes. “All right, then it’s settled.” she laughed. “We can have a chat on the way there. I’ll even tell you about some juicy gossip I’ve heard in Tianhai City.”

  Song Chang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in his misery. How utterly betrayed he was by the very boy he tirelessly spent teaching. Wasn’t Yue Xing supposed to be on his side?

  He sent the young man a sharp glare, but Yue Xing only looked away bashfully. He’d get him back for this foul sellout sooner or later.