Chapter 37 Xiao Lingjun stood at the door
The snow particles had turned into fine flakes at some point, silently covering the plum branches and burying the scattered bits of tender yellow.
The sky and the earth were covered in white, and a thin layer of snow had accumulated on Xiao Wangqing's shoulders.
"Miss Chen's words are like a revelation," he said, his eyelashes lowered, his outward emotions well contained. "It's Wang Qing who's being stubborn."
Shen Zhiwei gently stroked the cat's chin in his arms and did not respond.
Some words should be said with just the right amount of emphasis. If you say too much, it will seem deliberate.
Xiao Wangqing turned around and bowed solemnly to her. "I'm deeply grateful for disturbing your peace today, listening to your nonsense for so long, and for your guidance."
Shen Zhiwei dodged by leaning to the side: "Your Highness, your words are too kind. It was just a few casual words. I don't deserve your thanks."
"You deserve it," Xiao Wangqing stood up respectfully, his eyes glancing across her face before quickly looking away. "The snow is deep and the roads are slippery. Miss, you are frail and shouldn't stay in such a cold place for long. Wangqing...go ahead."
He said nothing more, turned, and stepped into the snow. His figure was quickly swallowed up by the white fluff and disappeared at the end of the Merlin Trail.
The fine snow fell, covering the footprints in just a moment, leaving nothing behind.
Shen Zhiwei stood there, watching the figure disappear completely. The black cat in his arms found a more comfortable position, curled up into a ball, and continued to take a nap.
Shen Zhiwei sighed silently.
Xiao Wangqing's last few words sounded as if he was convinced by her. But the look in his eyes when he left was too calm and too profound to look relieved.
It wasn't that she wasn't touched, but the past was long gone, and no matter how many entanglements and debts there were, they should all be wiped out with that bowl of Meng Po soup. In this life, she just wanted to protect the people she wanted to protect and live a few days of peace and quiet.
I didn't get to see all the plum blossoms at Guiyuan Temple before the snow fell. It's no pity, though; flowers bloom at their own pace and cannot be forced.
Shen Zhiwei leaned against the window, twisting the corner of a page of book with his fingertips, closing his eyes to rest.
Xiao Lingjun must have known about what happened in the Plum Garden today, but he didn't show up today, nor did he send anyone.
This is not like him.
Since her rebirth, her Highness had been pervasively infiltrating every inch of her life, using a seemingly gentle but irresistible approach to keep her firmly within his sight.
The silence at this moment is unusual.
The maid tiptoed in to refill her tea. Seeing her gazing out the window, she whispered, "Young lady, the Eastern Palace just sent some freshly made plum blossom cakes. It's said that His Highness saw the first snow this winter and remembered your favorite, so he asked the kitchen to try making some. Please give them a try."
Shen Zhiwei came back to his senses and looked over. There was indeed a plate of exquisite pastries on the table. They were in the shape of plum blossoms, with crispy white skin and a faint pink tint. They looked very attractive.
"Where is His Highness?" she asked.
"The visitor only said that His Highness ordered it to be delivered, and didn't say anything else." The maid replied with her head lowered.
Shen Zhiwei hummed and waved the maid away. She picked up a piece of fragrant cake and put it in her mouth. It was crispy and sweet, a taste she would like. He always remembered these.
But the snacks arrived, but the person hadn't arrived, not even a single word. It didn't sound like an accusation, more like... waiting.
Wait for her reaction, or wait for her to speak first.
He is afraid.
This realization came to mind clearly.
Xiao Lingjun was afraid that his loss of control that day would push her further away, that his relentless protection would bore her, and that whatever he did would be wrong.
So he chose to step back, avoiding her possible displeasure and resistance in advance, leaving only these silent snacks, and cautiously testing them.
Shen Zhiwei saw it, but felt breathless.
What Xiao Lingjun gave her was always an airtight package, a thorough plan with no omissions, and a paranoia that would hold everything in its hands even if it hurt her. There had never been such a cowardly retreat.
She closed her eyes, her fingertips pressing against her throbbing temples. Annoyance washed over her, but not disgust. The Crown Prince's feelings weighed so heavily on her that she could neither respond nor reject them.
She never felt she owed Xiao Lingjun anything. In the past ten years, they had used each other, tortured each other, and supported each other, and it was impossible to tell who owed whom more. But in this life, he came to her with a burning heart, and she didn't know how to accept it.
Accept? Her heart was cold and weary, and she couldn't muster the passion to respond.
Push it away? ...I can't seem to bring myself to do it.
It’s not that I still have feelings for you, it’s just...it’s different after all.
Shen Zhiwei was silent for a long time, and finally sighed softly.
"Please get me some paper and pen." She spoke to the empty room.
The sound was not loud, but it startled the existence in the corner that almost blended into the shadows.
Seventeen appeared as quietly as the night fog, quickly prepared the pen, ink, paper and inkstone, placed them on the desk by the window, and then silently retreated into the shadows.
Shen Zhiwei walked to the desk, spread out the plain paper, picked up the pen, but didn't know what to write for a moment.
Asked him why he didn't come? Too straightforward, not like her.
Thank him for the snack? That would be too forced and seem awkward.
Explain what happened to Merlin today? No, as if she had done anything that needed to be justified.
The tip of the pen was dipped in ink and hovered for a long time. A drop of ink fell and spread out as a small gray-black blob on the paper.
Shen Zhiwei looked at the smudged ink, and the tip of the pen finally fell.
"The fragrant cakes are delicious. Drinking alone on a snowy night, but unfortunately I have no rivals."
The ink spread across the plain white paper, the writing sloppy and lazy, a departure from her usual steady handwriting. She blew the ink dry, folded the paper, and without putting it in the envelope, simply pressed her fingertips under the inkstone.
"Seventeen."
The shadow moved slightly and approached silently.
"Send this letter to the East Palace. There is no need to wait for a reply."
"yes."
Seventeen carefully picked up the piece of paper with the ink still wet on it, lowered his head and nodded, then retreated silently.
Shen Zhiwei sat back by the window and watched Seventeen's figure disappear at the end of the courtyard. She felt even more irritated and felt that she had done something stupid.
She didn't expect Xiao Lingjun to come.
The phrase "I have no rivals" was more of a gesture, a signal, than an invitation. It told him that she had received his feelings and had not held a grudge against him because of the chance encounter with Merlin or his previous loss of control.
She knew Xiao Lingjun well; this signal was like a welcome rain after a long drought. But he was also proud and deep-minded. After she had acted like this, he might not immediately lower himself and come over.
Maybe I'll wait a while, maybe I'll send someone to deliver some more things.
However, within half an hour, the sound of wind and snow outside the window was briefly drowned out by some more urgent sound.
It wasn't a carriage, but more like several fast horses that had stopped.
Shen Zhiwei's hand holding the scroll trembled and he almost dropped it.
Someone was walking on the swept stone slabs covered with a light layer of snow. The footsteps were neither fast nor slow, and the pauses seemed to be carefully measured, and the stability was deliberate.
Without any notification or request, the door was pushed open silently.
Xiao Lingjun stood at the door.
He was not wearing his usual clothes, but only a green robe with a black cloak on the outside. The belt was tied loosely and messily. The shoulders of the cloak were covered with snowflakes that had not been brushed away. His black hair was also stained with snowflakes, which quickly melted in the warm air in the room, leaving behind a fine water light.
He seemed to be riding a horse at a gallop, his breathing was still rapid, and his cheeks were slightly red from the cold wind. His eyes, which always contained spring breeze or deep pools, were now surprisingly bright.
His eyes quickly swept over her, confirming that she was fine and sitting there safely, with half a fragrant cake still pinched between her fingertips. The black cat in his arms pricked up its ears alertly at his intrusion.
The thing that almost jumped out of the chest seemed to slowly fall back to earth.
"Your Highness?" Shen Zhiwei didn't expect him to come so quickly. She was stunned for a moment, put down the pastry, and was about to stand up to salute.
"No need." Xiao Lingjun's voice was hoarse, as if he had been choked by the snow foam. He raised his hand and pressed it lightly, stopping her movement. He closed the door with his backhand, isolating the wind and snow from outside.
He walked to the charcoal brazier, took off his wet cloak, and hung it on a pear wood rack beside him, his movements a little hastily.
He looked like he had just left an important event in a hurry, without even bothering to change his clothes.
There were only the two of them in the room, and a rather unfriendly black cat that glared at the uninvited guests.
Xiao Lingjun stood beside the charcoal basin, his knuckle-jointed hand hovering above the flames. The snow on his cloak heated up, sending up a fine, white vapor that swirled around him, making him look like a silhouette hastily stepped into reality from a blizzard.
He didn't speak immediately, nor did he look at her. He just focused on roasting the fire, as if he had come all the way here just to warm himself with this pot of charcoal.
The black cat in Shen Zhiwei's arms purred softly, its tail twitching unhappily, clearly expressing its displeasure with the intruder. She raised her hand and gently scratched its ears with her fingertips, and it finally quieted down, its vertical pupils still warily staring at the figure beside the charcoal basin.
Shen Zhiwei didn't ask him why he came. They both knew the answer, and asking would seem pretentious.
After a long while, Xiao Lingjun finally seemed to have dispelled the chill from his body. He turned around and walked over to the chair opposite her and sat down. His posture seemed relaxed, but his back remained straight.
He looked at the plate of pancakes beside her, which was missing only one piece.
"Not to your taste?"
"Not bad," Shen Zhiwei raised his eyes, closed the book and put it aside, "but I just had some tea and snacks, so I'm not very hungry yet."
Xiao Lingjun nodded, his eyes sweeping over the black cat on her lap: "This cat is becoming more and more attached to you."
"It's hard to tame the wild ones, but they just want the warmth here."
There was another silence.
Xiao Lingjun tapped his fingertips on his knees unconsciously a few times, as if he was weighing his words. It seemed that he was finding it particularly difficult to maintain that relaxed facade today.
"Today... I was supposed to go to the Ministry of War to discuss matters," he finally spoke again, as if explaining, but also as if talking to himself, "The end of the year is approaching, and the food and supplies in the northern border need to be dispatched as quickly as possible."
Shen Zhiwei listened quietly without interrupting.
"Several veteran generals are arguing endlessly, all believing their own men deserve first place," His Royal Highness the Crown Prince frowned slightly, as if genuinely troubled by government affairs. "It's giving me a headache."
As he spoke, he raised his hand and pressed his solar plexus. His fingertips were white, and his joints were covered with thin calluses from long periods of holding a pen and practicing martial arts.
Shen Zhiwei was used to seeing these hands, so she lowered her eyes and poured him a cup of hot tea.
"Your Highness has worked hard," she said politely.
Xiao Lingjun put down his hand and looked at her: "When I saw the note you sent, the old minister of the Ministry of Revenue was asking me to calculate the money for next year's spring plowing."
"The noise, the sound of abacus, and the scorching charcoal fire all mixed together."
"When I unfolded the letter and saw those few words," he said, his voice slowing down, "I suddenly felt...those voices were far away."
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The author has something to say: Xiao Lingjun suddenly felt a little regretful.
Regret came so suddenly and so embarrassingly, laying out the huge storm caused by her few words in front of her.
He should have waited a little longer, until the night got deeper and the snow got heavier, and perhaps sent someone to deliver a jar of freshly brewed plum wine with a more appropriate message.
Instead of sitting here like he was now, with the snow still on his body, trying clumsily and in vain to dig out a little bit of what he longed for from the words she had casually written.
He was scared.
I was afraid that behind her almost alms-like relaxation was a deeper alienation.
Afraid that she would no longer ask for anything from him.
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The chef is so lonely and looking for interaction>
The Q&A function may not be mature for the first time. In addition to not telling the subsequent development, bosses can ask whatever they are curious about. They will reply slowly in the order in which the inspiration comes out. For questions related to the later plot, they will reply with emoticons [花花]
The door of the small restaurant is always open, we welcome you to come [kiss]
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