Chapter Eleven: Subtle Longing

Zhan Yan realized she must be under some kind of spell. Ever since Zhongli Yu appeared that day, she couldn’t help but think of him, his image drifting unbidden into her mind. In her previous life, she had been entirely focused on her own achievements—twenty-four years of living and not a single romance to speak of. She had no idea what was happening to her now, only that she found herself hoping he would come again. Was this, perhaps, what people called longing?

“Ugh, so annoying, that wretched man,” Zhan Yan muttered irritably.

“Hmm, who is this ‘wretched man’?” came a familiar voice from behind her. Dressed in that same pale blue brocade robe, adorned with a few exquisitely crafted pear blossoms—it was none other than Zhongli Yu.

Zhan Yan stared at him in astonishment, momentarily at a loss for words. Why was he here again?

Zhongli Yu looked at her dazed, endearingly foolish expression and couldn’t help but laugh softly, his voice as gentle as ever. He had missed her terribly these past days; before, he hadn’t thought much of it, but after seeing her, he realized his heart was already bewitched. That old saying, “A day apart feels like three autumns”—so this was what it meant. If he didn’t want to fall ill with longing, he would have to do his utmost to marry her and bring her home.

“What brings you here?” Zhan Yan regained her composure, asking with calm indifference, not wanting him to realize that she had missed him.

“I happened to be free, so I thought I’d come visit.”

“Oh? Well, have you seen enough? Are you leaving now?” she replied bluntly, making no effort to hide her intention to send him away. She simply didn’t like how she felt around him, and it seemed best to keep her distance.

“I haven’t finished looking yet,” he replied with shameless confidence.

“I’ve been busy all day and I’m hungry. Have you eaten? Would you care to share some food with me?”

“You’re the esteemed mistress of Youran Pavilion—how could you possibly lack food?”

“I don’t, but I’m so hungry right now I can barely move.” He lied smoothly, without a trace of embarrassment.

“Qingyun, set the table,” Zhan Yan called out in resignation. This man’s thick skin was truly hard to contend with.

“Yes, miss,” Qingyun answered.

In no time, Qingyun had the dishes arranged on the table. Zhongli Yu glanced at the spread—just four dishes and a soup—and couldn’t help but wonder if she was short on money. Why did she eat so simply?

“Four dishes are enough; any more and you wouldn’t finish them. Why waste? When I dine alone, it’s usually just three dishes and a soup; you’re here, so I added one more.” She explained kindly, as if reading his mind.

Zhongli Yu nodded. She did seem to have a point. He was accustomed to eating a dozen or more dishes at a meal, many of which he barely touched, but it was simply habit.

“I never would’ve guessed—you even have the makings of a good wife and loving mother.” He teased her as he ate, almost forgetting the etiquette that one should not speak at the table.

Zhan Yan rolled her eyes in exasperation. Just because she preferred not to have a table full of different dishes, suddenly she had the potential to be the perfect wife and mother? This man had rather low standards.

He found her eye-rolling adorable and his mood soared. His appetite, too, was unusually good. The two of them finished every last bite on the table. It seemed that what mattered most about a meal was not the food itself, but the company.

“Now that we’ve eaten, you can go,” she said, once again unceremoniously trying to send him off.

“I’m too full to move,” Zhongli Yu said, rubbing his belly. Yet even this vulgar gesture, when performed by him, seemed somehow elegant.

“Thick-skinned,” Zhan Yan grumbled in annoyance. “What, do you expect me to escort you home as well?”

“If you’re willing, I’d be delighted,” he replied.

Zhan Yan was both exasperated and amused. “Fine, I’ll send you off,” she said, raising her palm, ready to throw him out.

With a light leap, Zhongli Yu dodged her. “Heartless woman,” he grumbled.

She suddenly felt a chill around her neck. Zhongli Yu had vanished. Looking down, she saw a jade pendant hanging from her neck, its smooth, cool touch and fine quality clearly marking it as priceless. Zhan Yan was annoyed; she couldn’t understand why he would give her such a valuable gift for no reason at all.

Outside, the sun had already set and dusk was falling. The room still carried traces of his presence, yet it felt empty, and a faint sense of longing welled up from deep within her, settling in her chest. Zhan Yan shook her head, trying to suppress the feeling, but it only grew more distinct.

That night, she lay awake, sleepless, wrestling with her unruly heart. By all rights, she had always been reserved and detached—why was she so affected by a man she had only met a handful of times? And yet, there was something strangely familiar about him, as if she had met him long ago, though she could not recall when. She tossed and turned, unable to rest. As dawn began to break, she finally drifted into exhausted slumber, and just before she slipped into dreams, one sentence flashed through her mind: “Ten years from now, if you are still unmarried and so am I, will you marry me?” Unfortunately, the words vanished as sleep claimed her, and she remembered nothing upon waking.

She slept well into the late morning the next day. Sunlight streamed through her window by the time she awoke. Taking a deep breath, Zhan Yan sighed with contentment—freedom was truly a delight, and this was the life she loved.

After a long, lazy sleep, her spirits were high. She hummed a tune as she washed up, feeling clear-headed and refreshed. It seemed time to get some work done; she had neglected her businesses for too long. Much as she enjoyed her idle, carefree life, she knew she couldn’t simply sit back and watch her fortune dwindle away.

Entering her study, she found it spacious and tidy, its shelves lined with over a thousand books. Her love of reading had followed her from her previous life, and with her photographic memory, she had finished every book by the age of five. Approaching her desk, she looked at the thick stack of secret reports and account books, sighed helplessly, and began to read. On the surface, all appeared normal in her subordinates’ reports, but she had a gut feeling that something was about to happen.

She tried to shake off that sense of unease, but it lingered.

Gu Wuyou—could it really be possible to live without worries? Could she truly let go of the deep-rooted sense of justice from her past life? Could she really live for herself, carefree, ignoring the fates of others? Zhan Yan was left bewildered…