Chapter 3: The Unseen Shadow

After his bath, Su Zhuozhi’s cheeks were flushed from the steam. His eyes gleamed, framed by thick, clustered lashes, and his long, ink-black hair cascaded down his back, still damp.

Wanying, the maidservant, skillfully gathered the young master’s semi-wet hair with a soft cloth, carefully wringing out the moisture.

Once his hair was almost dry, Wanying quietly withdrew.

Several lamps illuminated the table, their bright candlelight flickering, casting dancing shadows across the room.

Su Zhuozhi entered the inner chamber, his gaze immediately drawn to a grand four-poster bed crafted from golden-thread nanmu wood. Its interior was so spacious it resembled a room within a room, easily accommodating four or five people.

At either end of the floor space outside the bed, exquisite huanghuali wooden chests were placed, holding Su Zhuozhi’s favorite storybooks and an assortment of delicate trinkets.

Su Zhuozhi retrieved a storybook he had yet to finish and practically pounced onto the bed. He burrowed into the soft brocade quilt, leaning languidly against the headboard.

He found the page he had last read, set aside the bookmark, and began to read with avid interest. Before long, he was utterly engrossed in the tale, completely forgetting that a certain ‘foolish dog’ was still standing in the room, facing the wall in silent contemplation.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

He had maintained a single posture for so long that his waist began to ache. He shifted his legs, intending to change positions and continue reading. Unexpectedly, as he looked up, he saw a long human shadow projected onto the bed curtains, swaying and distorting with the candlelight, appearing grotesque and terrifying.

The storybook had reached a particularly thrilling climax, and Su Zhuozhi was startled, a terrified cry welling in his throat. Fearing he might alert the ‘ghost’ outside, he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide and round, their corners reddening.

Just then, a deep voice emanated from outside the bed.

“Young Master, how much longer must I stand here?”

There was no response from within the bed.

Su Zhuozhi was momentarily stunned with fear. Upon hearing the voice, he only registered that the ghost was speaking, finding it utterly horrifying, the specific words failing to register in his mind.

Xie Jue furrowed his brow and stepped inside the four-poster bed.

On the bed, Su Zhuozhi clutched the brocade quilt tightly, his entire body shrunken and wrapped into a ‘zongzi’ shape, as if the blanket were a protective shield, keeping the ghost at bay.

Xie Jue observed the large, trembling bundle, paused, and fell silent. Then, he calmly inquired, “Young Master, have you fallen asleep?”

After a moment, a small slit slowly appeared above the quilt bundle, peeking out to secretly observe.

Once Su Zhuozhi clearly saw that it was a person and not a ghost, he let out a huge sigh of relief. However, a wave of shame and annoyance immediately surged through him. He couldn’t help but throw off the covers, kicking out at Xie Jue.

“It’s you again!”

His bare foot landed on Xie Jue’s thigh, his pale skin a stark contrast against the dark fabric. Driven by annoyance, the young master ignored the rough texture beneath his sole, angrily kicking twice more.

At last, he somewhat managed to embody the arrogant, debauched image of a young master bullying a servant.

Yet, this meager force was utterly insignificant to Xie Jue. The inherently pampered young master, always adorned in soft, expensive shoes, had never toiled, leaving the soles of his feet tender. Kicking his muscular leg, it was hard to say who suffered more.

Moreover, Su Zhuozhi was seated on the bed, his leg’s reach limited, preventing him from exerting much force. Rather than a kick, it was more akin to playfully stepping on him.

Xie Jue lowered his gaze, watching him, a slight frown on his face. A flicker of something unusual passed through his eyes, and his expression abruptly turned cold. He took a large step back, as if utterly repulsed by the contact.

Su Zhuozhi’s kick missed, and he looked up in disbelief. “You dare to dodge?”

Xie Jue lowered his head, masking his expression, and offered a low excuse. “I was worried the Young Master’s foot might hurt.”

At these words, Su Zhuozhi belatedly realized the discomfort of his foot rubbing against the coarse cloth. This foolish guard had not yet bathed, and his clothes must have been covered in dust and sweat. The thought alone made Su Zhuozhi’s face change, and he immediately called out, “Someone!”

Qingping, who was guarding the door, quickly hurried into the room, looking particularly surprised upon seeing Xie Jue standing within the four-poster bed.

“What are the Young Master’s orders?”

“Bring me a basin of water. I want to wash my feet.”

Su Zhuozhi demanded coldly. His right foot, which had just kicked Xie Jue, now rested outside the bed, unwilling to touch the bedding in the slightest.

Witnessing this, Xie Jue felt a pang of irony, a cold sneer forming in his heart. Just touching his clothes twice elicited such a disgusted reaction, as if he no longer wanted his foot. What if he were to embrace him now, touching him all over? Would he commit suicide?

Naturally, Xie Jue would never do such a thing.

Only after Qingping had thoroughly cleaned his feet did Su Zhuozhi feel more comfortable, retracting his legs back into the quilt.

“Withdraw. I am going to sleep.” Su Zhuozhi finished, then turned to look at Xie Jue with displeasure. “You too, go bathe quickly. Don’t let me see you.”

Xie Jue obeyed, turning to leave. Su Zhuozhi, recalling his foolish nature, reminded him uneasily, “You don’t need to come back after bathing. You may go rest.”

This time, Xie Jue did not agree directly, instead feigning difficulty. “But Steward Zhou instructed me to stay by the Young Master’s side, not to leave for even a moment—”

Before he could finish, Su Zhuozhi interrupted, staring directly at him. “Did I not tell you to obey my every command? Do you listen to the Steward, or to me, your master?”

“…Naturally, it is you, Young Master.”

“Then that’s settled. Go rest quickly and don’t disturb my sleep.”

Su Zhuozhi waved his hand impatiently. After the servants left, he, who had just declared he was going to sleep, picked up his storybook once more, burrowed back into the quilt, and continued reading comfortably.

The story described how a beauty from a painting came to life. In the dead of night, she would step out of the painting, stand by the protagonist’s bed, and absorb his vital essence. Before dawn, she would return to the painting, vanishing without a trace, and the protagonist, despite passing the painting many times, never noticed anything amiss.

Su Zhuozhi thought of Xie Jue, who had been facing the wall in contemplation. How could he have completely overlooked such a large person? Could he have merged with the wall?

He merely made a casual connection, and soon his attention returned to the storybook. Before long, he grew increasingly drowsy, yawning with narrowed eyes, a hint of moisture in their corners. He forced himself to read two more chapters before allowing a servant to come in, collect the storybook, extinguish the candlelight, and then he lay down to sleep.

The next day.

Golden morning light pierced through the thin mist, carried by a gentle breeze, sweeping over the courtyard’s plants and trees, bringing with it vibrant life.

A ray of light fell upon the windowsill, passing through the glazed tiles and refracting into colorful patterns.

However, the four-poster bed within the room created its own enclosed space, isolating it from the light. The young man on the bed slept soundly, utterly undisturbed.

Outside, a host of servants and maidservants were already bustling about, each performing their duties efficiently and in an orderly fashion.

“Has the Young Master not woken yet?” Wanying asked.

“Not yet.”

Wanying frowned. “If he doesn’t get up soon, he’ll be late for the Imperial Academy.”

Qingping quickly interjected, “I’ll go wake the Young Master.”

Waking the sleeping young master was a major event every day at Qiulan Hall. As the young master often overslept and had a temper when roused, the servants were more anxious than their master, fearing he would be late for school.

Qingping, as always, stood by the bed, persistently calling out again and again.

The litany of sounds eventually woke Su Zhuozhi. Annoyed, he pulled the quilt higher, covering his head and ears, and mumbled with closed eyes, “Don’t bother me, scram.”

Qingping reached out to pull back the quilt, gently coaxing, “Young Master, if you don’t get up now, there won’t be enough time. Today is Doctor Chen’s class; being late will result in punishment, and Master Su will also find out.”

After lingering for a while longer, Su Zhuozhi finally sat up. However, his ink-black hair was tousled and sticking up, his eyes were hazy with sleep, and he sat there motionless, looking blank, having drifted back to sleep.

Qingping called out again.

Su Zhuozhi felt a surge of irritation and vaguely replied, “I’m up, I’m up.”

In his mind, he had already gotten out of bed, washed up, changed clothes, eaten breakfast, and left. Yet, when he opened his eyes, the reality was that he was still sitting on the bed in his nightclothes, having done nothing.

Su Zhuozhi immediately pouted, a profound resentment emanating from him, more potent than a thousand-year-old vengeful spirit. As he got out of bed to wash, he fumed inwardly, cursing the pointlessness of classes. He wished the Imperial Academy would collapse one day; he’d be the first to set off fireworks in celebration.

Throughout the entire process, Su Zhuozhi remained half-asleep and disoriented. The servants diligently helped him, but in the end, they were still late. There was no time for breakfast, so he had to take it with him in the carriage and eat a simple meal on the way.

Xie Jue, as the personal guard, naturally had to follow when his master departed. However, Su Zhuozhi was extremely sleepy and had no energy to make things difficult for him. He didn’t even spare him a glance, diving into the carriage and leaning against a soft pillow to catch up on sleep, too lazy even to eat his breakfast.

As they neared the Imperial Academy, Qingping advised the young master to eat at least a little, lest he faint from hunger during class.

Su Zhuozhi took a piece of ‘gulouzi’ (flatbread). The饼 was wrapped in paper, still warm. Its golden crust was crispy, sprinkled with sesame seeds and pepper, and filled generously with mutton. The glistening oil and rich meaty aroma were tantalizing. With one bite, the savory juices exploded in his mouth, a true delight for the taste buds.

The flatbread was large and substantial. Su Zhuozhi, whose appetite was not high, felt sated after half a piece. Turning his head, he happened to meet Xie Jue’s gaze, assuming he wanted some, and casually offered it. “Here, have it.”

For a master to give leftover food to a servant was a form of reward. The young master’s meals were all prepared by the head chef; servants rarely had the opportunity to eat such delicacies.

Qingping had expected the young master to reward him, but to his surprise, the new arrival had intercepted it.

Xie Jue had no interest in eating someone else’s leftovers and refused with an indifferent expression.

“Young Master, please give it to me.” Qingping smiled and reached out, secretly sighing at the new guard’s lack of good sense, yet also feeling quite fortunate.

Su Zhuozhi was indifferent as to who received it, so he simply handed it to Qingping. Qingping happily thanked the young master and ate heartily, savoring every bite.

Upon arriving at the Imperial Academy, they made their way towards the Zhixing Courtyard.

Pages and attendants were required to wait outside the lecture halls, while students entered alone.

Just outside the door, Su Zhuozhi encountered his friend, Jiang Yangyu, dressed in the same scholar’s green robe, yet his untamed temperament and innate nobility were still evident.

“I knew you’d only arrive at this time,” Jiang Yangyu said, slinging an arm over Su Zhuozhi’s shoulder with a familiar air.

No sooner had he spoken than the class bell rang.

Jiang Yangyu raised an eyebrow. ‘See? I was right. The bell is never as punctual as you are.’

Su Zhuozhi shifted his shoulder, rolling his eyes at him, and said with disdain, “Heavy. Get off.”

“How can one arm be heavy? You truly are delicate.” Despite his words, Jiang Yangyu moved his arm, then bumped him with his elbow. Without a second thought, Su Zhuozhi immediately retaliated, nudging him back, unwilling to suffer any disadvantage.

Jiang Yangyu laughed, then casually asked, “Oh, right, I just saw a new face next to your servant. Did you replace someone? Did they displease you?”

Su Zhuozhi waved his hand dismissively. “A guard my father arranged. An annoying fellow.”

He clearly had no desire to elaborate.

Jiang Yangyu understood. “Do you want me to help you?”

“No need. I can handle it myself.”

Since he said so, Jiang Yangyu did not press further, and the two walked together to their desks. They were deskmates.

The Imperial Academy was the highest institution of learning in the current dynasty, a place every scholar aspired to attend, though not all were privileged enough. There were only four ways to gain admission: becoming a student (Jiansheng) through the imperial examinations (Jujian); being selected as an exceptional talent from local recommendations (Gongjian); gaining admission due to one’s father being an official (Yinjian); or by donating money or grain (Lijian).

Su Zhuozhi was one of the Lijian, admitted because Master Su had spent a fortune to send him there. In the previous dynasty, merchants were lowly and forbidden from holding official positions. However, after the founding of the Great Liang Dynasty, trade developed rapidly, and the status of merchants gradually rose, with state policies easing restrictions on them. Master Su, being far-sighted, actively presented tributes and pledged loyalty. During times of border conflict, he proactively donated grain and clothing to the army, later earning the Emperor’s favor as an Imperial Merchant.

Jiang Yangyu, unlike him, was the esteemed heir of a ducal estate, leading a cohort of official’s sons.

How two individuals of such vastly different statuses became friends was, in itself, a curious tale. In short, they became friends through a fight.

Jiang Yangyu’s father was a distinguished duke with illustrious military achievements, and his mother was the exalted Princess Royal. Naturally, he had been pampered since childhood, developing an arrogant disposition that looked down on others, and no one dared to cross him. When Su Zhuozhi first arrived, Jiang Yangyu didn’t even give him a second glance. He disdained the son of a merchant, even if he was an Imperial Merchant, the wealthiest man in the capital, possessing riches no less than high-ranking officials. But a merchant was a merchant, inherently inferior.

Some students, prone to fawning over the powerful and slighting the weak, looked down on Su Zhuozhi. Upon seeing the priceless purple brush on his desk, worth a thousand gold, they immediately accused him of stealing it from the young duke. That purple brush, crafted by a renowned artisan, was exceedingly rare, not something money could necessarily buy, and the young duke had coincidentally lost one two days prior.

In truth, they cared little about the truth; their sole intention was to humiliate Su Zhuozhi. How could a lowly merchant’s son be worthy of such a fine brush, one that even they did not possess?

But the subsequent turn of events far exceeded their expectations.

Su Zhuozhi, though barely ten years old and small in stature, was anything but timid or easily bullied. On the contrary, he was exceptionally bold, immediately engaging them in a brawl. He was nimble and fast. When one of them swung a fist, he quickly ducked, and, by an unfortunate coincidence, Jiang Yangyu, who had just walked to the doorway and was standing behind Su Zhuozhi, took the punch for him.

Su Zhuozhi, thinking he had implicated an innocent classmate, was at a loss, asking anxiously and frantically, “Are you alright?”

Jiang Yangyu was about to erupt in anger when he looked up and saw Su Zhuozhi’s face, and froze. The child before him, half a head shorter, was fair-skinned and adorable, like a little jade-snow dumpling, resembling a small immortal child.

Those who knew Jiang Yangyu understood he was a ‘face-con’—he bothered little with plain-looking people, and all his friends were exceptionally handsome.

At his first glance at Su Zhuozhi, he couldn’t help but wonder why his mother hadn’t given birth to such a beautiful younger brother.

But in the next instant, the soft and cuddly ‘snow dumpling’ in his heart transformed into a prickly ‘hairy dumpling,’ fiercely jabbing him.

Because the person who had accidentally punched Jiang Yangyu was scared out of his wits, trembling as he cried, “Young Duke! I, I…”

Su Zhuozhi heard this and mistakenly thought Jiang Yangyu was the culprit, leading the charge to falsely accuse and bully him. He was furious. ‘Caring? What care?’ He pounced, pinning the person to the ground, and unceremoniously landed several punches, stunning everyone present.

Jiang Yangyu was bewildered by the attack. Snapping back to his senses, he immediately retaliated. The two tumbled on the ground, fighting in a chaotic mess.

After such a brawl, everyone assumed Su Zhuozhi had thoroughly offended the young duke and would surely not last in the Imperial Academy. However, afterward, Su Zhuozhi realized he had beaten the wrong person and proactively went to apologize to Jiang Yangyu.

The young duke had never been hit before. Now, with a bruised and swollen face, a fire simmered within him. He sneered viciously, “You apologize and I’m supposed to forgive you? You hitting me back would be more like it.”

Su Zhuozhi surprisingly nodded without hesitation. “Alright, hit me back then.”

As he spoke, his delicately sculpted face still bore the bruises from Jiang Yangyu’s punches, looking quite pitiful.

Jiang Yangyu was taken aback, saying oddly, “You’re quite willing to lose face.”

“It has nothing to do with face. If I made a mistake, I naturally must bear the consequences. You can hit me.” Su Zhuozhi was small, his voice soft and sweet, but his words were unexpectedly free-spirited and magnanimous.

Jiang Yangyu stared at him intently for a moment, knowing that Su Zhuozhi was a year younger than him. To actually hit him would be bullying the younger. He disdained such an act.

Su Zhuozhi, having been forgiven, was overjoyed, his eyes curving into little crescent moons as he smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Big Brother. Big Brother is truly gentle and generous, such a good person!”

Little Su Zhuozhi, pampered by his family, was somewhat spoiled but also very clever. When coaxing people, his small mouth was as if smeared with honey, irresistible to anyone.

Jiang Yangyu lost himself in these repeated calls of ‘Big Brother,’ thinking, ‘If I had a younger brother, he would definitely be like this!’

Afterward, as they slowly got to know each other, Jiang Yangyu discovered that Su Zhuozhi was not only cute but also had a very likable personality, and they always had a great time when playing together. Thus, the two quickly became close friends, their bond the strongest in the academy.

During class, while the Doctor lectured above, they would pass notes, secretly snack on treats, and plan where to play afterward.

It was the same now.

The Doctor noticed their clandestine activities and called on Jiang Yangyu to answer a question.

Jiang Yangyu, having no idea of the answer, secretly winked at Su Zhuozhi.

Su Zhuozhi quickly wrote the answer on a piece of paper and discreetly slid it over. Jiang Yangyu glanced at it and confidently recited the answer.

The Doctor’s face was complex. “…Do you take me for blind? Jiang Yangyu, Su Zhuozhi, both of you go stand outside as punishment.”

Then, the Doctor announced loudly that Jiang Yangyu had provided an excellent, standard example of a wrong answer for everyone. A chorus of laughter erupted from the students, but a quick glance at Jiang Yangyu’s darkened face made them hastily stifle their mirth.

Outside on the corridor, Jiang Yangyu complained, “Your answer was wrong, yet you still wrote it for me, making me lose so much face.”

Su Zhuozhi shrugged, completely unafraid. “Neither of us was listening to the lecture. If you didn’t know it, why would you think I would? My writing it for you was already very loyal of me.”

“Yes, yes, you are the most loyal.” Jiang Yangyu saw his sincere expression and couldn’t stay angry, breaking into a smile. “That distraction almost made me forget to mention, my father sent me two excellent horses. I’ll give you one to repay your loyalty, how about it?”

If it were anyone else, their face would have already betrayed their surprise and delight. Not only were the horses given by the Duke to his legitimate son of exceptional quality, but more importantly, the young duke, who adored horses, was willing to generously give one away, proving his affection and closeness to his friend.

But Su Zhuozhi, who wasn’t fond of horses, showed little interest. “I don’t want it. I already have several; why would I need so many?”

Jiang Yangyu insisted, “That’s different! This one has an exceptional lineage; traveling a thousand li in a day is nothing for it. Its body is entirely date-red, comparable to Red Hare of the Three Kingdoms.”

Su Zhuozhi was skeptical. “How could that be?”

Jiang Yangyu replied, “Tomorrow, I’ll have someone send it to your estate. You’ll know once you see it with your own eyes.”

As expected of the young duke, his gift-giving was akin to a forced sale.

Unable to refuse, Su Zhuozhi reciprocated politely. “Since you’re giving me a beloved horse, I shall return the favor with a precious sword.”

Young men were most easily drawn to chivalrous items like fine horses and treasured swords. Donning vibrant clothes and riding a spirited horse, wielding a sword to roam the world—it was a thrilling, spirited image.

Su Zhuozhi particularly loved collecting swords, those embellished with dazzling jewels, their blades sharp and keen, combining both beauty and dashing grandeur. When he spoke of giving one to Jiang Yangyu, he felt a pang of reluctance, as each one was a personal favorite.

“Then I shall thank the Young Master in advance.” Jiang Yangyu deliberately ignored his pained expression, his smile deepening. “This afternoon is the Great Musicology class. I know the Doctor who teaches it; how about we skip class together and go play?”

Su Zhuozhi enjoyed appreciating music and dance, but disliked studying it. Without a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Sounds good, where shall we go?”

Not far away, Xie Jue watched the two youths chatting side by side.

The young master’s smile was radiant, his eyes curving into crescents, like blooming flowers, captivating to behold.

It was an entirely different demeanor than when he faced him.

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