Night, like a deep, dark jade, quietly enveloped the entire world. Glistening night dew, like round pearls, quietly rolled down the slate-gray flagstones of the west wing of the General's Mansion. Caressed by the moonlight, they shone with a subtle, captivating silver light, as if spirits of the night were dancing. Shen Weiwan quietly leaned against the intricately carved stone pillars of the moonlit gate, her thoughts drifting away with the tranquil night. Her fingertips unconsciously caressed the soft, suet jade peach in her sleeve pocket. The delicate touch radiated through the brocade, as if she were holding a faintly beating, brilliant star.

Not far away, Xiao Yu leaned against the moonlit doorframe across from him, his posture erect and elegant. He wore a moon-white casual suit, the hems of his clothes gently lifted by the breeze, like a cloud drifting leisurely in the night, exuding an ethereal and otherworldly aura. The jade ring on his sleeve shone faintly in the soft lantern light, adding a touch of mystery to his appearance.

"Your Highness, why haven't you left yet? Are you hoping that the president will treat you to a late-night snack?" Shen Weiwan parted her rosy lips, breaking the tranquil atmosphere. She waved the revised edition of "Three Hundred Perverse Poems" in her hand. The five gilded characters on the cover, "Poetry Landslide," were dazzling in the lantern light. The newly added cabbage pattern, still stained with half-dried ink, seemed to tell the story of the book's unique creative process.

Xiao Yu couldn't help but let out a low laugh. It drifted like a melodious melody across the night sky, a melody mingled with the delicate freshness of cedar and the coolness of night dew. He took a half step forward. Like a skilled painter, the moonlight traced a brilliant silver edge across his straight nose, adding a touch of handsomeness and depth to his features. "I'm only here to await the payment of my royalties from Miss Shen."

"Settlement?" Shen Weiwan raised an eyebrow, and with a flick of her folding fan, she elegantly unfolded it. The newly painted "Stir-fried Cabbage with Pork" on the fan was vivid, the edges of the glossy, tempting meat meticulously traced with gold thread, seemingly emitting bursts of fragrance. "Your Highness still owes ten jars of iced sour plum soup for that 'Hungry Poem'. Are you trying to renege on your debt?"

"Of course I'm here to settle the accounts." Xiao Yu gazed at the cunning glint in her eyes, his gaze filled with doting. Suddenly, he raised his hand, his movements as gentle as a breeze brushing against flower petals, his fingertips lightly brushing against her temples. A petal that had fallen without a trace was firmly grasped between his fingers. "I'm just curious, how exactly does Miss Shen plan to rip off Liu's private funds?"

Shen Weiwan's heart suddenly skipped a beat. She had just this morning been whispering with Chuntao behind the rockery about this matter, and even the old housekeeper had only vaguely heard the general idea. How did he know about it? Just as she was full of doubts, Chuntao's earth-shaking cough suddenly came from behind the rockery, followed by the old housekeeper's low muttering: "It's too vulgar for a girl to talk about money...but eavesdropping is indeed not right..."

"Chun Tao! Old housekeeper!" Shen Weiwan was both angry and amused. She glared at the rockery, her hands on her hips. Chun Tao's face cautiously peeked out from the crevice of the mossy rock, while the old housekeeper's jujube wood cane poked squarely at the top of her shoe. When she turned back, Xiao Yu had already handed her a slightly yellowed account book. On the cover, the three characters "Wen Bao Zhai" were polished to a shine, as if telling of the years and stories it had endured.