1 Hiding

The sun slanted low in the west, a streak of rosy light brushed the horizon, and dusk approached.

At the entrance of Hidden Mountain Academy, the crowds had long since dispersed, leaving only Tong Youyu and her maid Jinkui.

Jinkui glanced at the sky and whispered, "Miss, has Cousin’s carriage already left?"

The Ritual Academy and Hidden Mountain Academy were not far apart; it made no sense for the carriage not to have arrived by this hour.

Just as she finished speaking, a carriage rounded the corner ahead—it was unmistakably from the Shen family.

Jinkui’s face brightened instantly. "Miss, the carriage is here!"

Tong Youyu slowly lifted her gaze. It was indeed the Shen family’s carriage, but instead of her cousin, it was her eldest cousin, Shen Shuzhang, who alighted.

"My second and third sisters are truly too much, leaving Cousin all alone to find her way home!"

Shen Shuzhang looked at Tong Youyu’s face and unconsciously softened his tone. "Cousin, your elder cousin is here to fetch you."

Tong Youyu parted her lips delicately. "Perhaps Cousin had something urgent to attend to and left first. Thank you, Elder Cousin…"

Hidden Mountain Academy was some distance from the Shen household; she certainly couldn’t walk home alone.

"No need to thank me, Cousin. You attend a different academy from them—why insist on sharing the same carriage?"

Shen Shuzhang reached out to help her into the carriage, but she evaded him.

Tong Youyu took Jinkui’s hand and boarded the carriage, replying as she did, "The academies are close by; there’s no need to send an extra carriage. Besides, I enjoy chatting with my cousins."

"You do love their company," Shen Shuzhang said, unfazed by her avoidance, climbing into the carriage after her with a smile. "I’d thought you were trying to avoid me."

Tong Youyu was no adept at lying; her round, watery eyes betrayed a moment of helplessness and awkwardness.

At first, the Shen family had arranged a coachman to escort her to the academy, but her elder cousin always found excuses to accompany her, so she had opted to squeeze in with her cousin instead.

Fortunately, Hidden Mountain Academy and Ritual Academy were both in Heqing Lane, close together, making things less troublesome.

"No such thing…" Tong Youyu denied with pursed lips. "Aunt has devoted herself to teaching me, and Elder Cousin has always cared for me—they are family, how could I distance myself?"

She emphasized the words 'family,' but Shen Shuzhang seemed not to hear, wishing only to draw closer.

He had watched his cousin blossom in the capital over the past three years.

Three years ago, at twelve, Tong Youyu had fallen from a horse and lost her memory; her father, the Magistrate of Youzhou, sent her to her maternal grandmother in the capital, beseeching Lady Shen to raise her.

Her father’s hands were tied; his daughter, orphaned young, was unruly—climbing trees and scaling walls were minor offenses, cockfighting and riding horses were tolerated, but worst of all, she fought.

She’d strike other children at the slightest provocation, never fearing injury, more aggressive than the rowdiest boys.

Lady Shen had only one daughter, who passed away soon after marrying. Seeing her plump, fair granddaughter, she couldn’t help but feel pity.

She kept Tong Youyu, teaching her to read, to understand propriety, to play music and dance—starting everything anew.

Three years passed swiftly, and the transformation was remarkable: she was reborn.

The girl now had bright eyes and white teeth, a slender figure, and her gaze was clear and pure—perhaps because of her amnesia, her eyes were dark and lustrous, instantly endearing.

Her features were already striking, soft as jade and delicate as flowers; simply standing there, she drew attention.

Inside the carriage, Shen Shuzhang’s sticky gaze clung to Tong Youyu, and although Jinkui was there too, the discomfort was palpable.

As they neared the bustling market, not far from home, Tong Youyu could bear it no longer and called for a stop.

"Elder Cousin, you go on ahead," she said, pointing at a roadside bookshop. "I’d like to buy a couple of books."

Shen Shuzhang glanced outside. "No trouble, I’ll go with you."

"That wouldn’t do. If you’re late returning, Aunt will worry."

Tong Youyu politely declined, and before he could protest, she quickly alighted and walked away at a brisk pace.

Jinkui, quick-witted, followed close behind, darting into the bookshop.

They thought this would finally rid them of Shen Shuzhang, but when Tong Youyu looked back, she saw him entering the shop as well!

Jinkui stamped her foot. "Miss, you might as well tell the old lady!"

Hiding from him day after day wasn’t a solution.

Tong Youyu hurried deeper into the shop, weaving between the shelves; it was easy to avoid someone if she moved quickly enough.

"Grandmother has been ill since the beginning of the year and hasn’t recovered—how could I trouble her with such a minor issue?"

"Then let Aunt handle the young master…"

"Jinkui, enough." Tong Youyu cut her off.

Aunt was surely aware of Elder Cousin’s intentions; otherwise, she wouldn’t have the servants watch him so closely.

Tong Youyu couldn’t bring herself to speak of it.

Aunt was learned and proud, urging her son and daughters in their studies, successfully sending all three to Ritual Academy.

That was the capital’s premier academy; Tong Youyu, after only three years of study, could not qualify.

In Aunt’s eyes, if the less accomplished Tong Youyu rejected her excellent son, it would wound his pride.

Thus, she could not speak, only avoid.

Jinkui understood her mistress’s predicament. "Miss, you head left; I’ll show myself and draw him away."

Tong Youyu gladly agreed. "Let’s meet in front of the sweets shop."

"Alright!"

The mistress and maid split up.

This bookshop had two stories and was quite spacious, shelves everywhere. Tong Youyu hesitated—should she escape to the second floor?

But as she reached the staircase, she heard Shen Shuzhang’s voice behind her, not far away: "Cousin? You’re walking too fast…"

Tong Youyu startled—he hadn’t been distracted by Jinkui but was coming her way.

If she went upstairs now, he’d spot her at once from below. Anxious, she glanced around, then saw a small door beneath the wooden stairs—perhaps a hiding place.

Desperate, she slipped unnoticed through the door.

She expected it might be stuck or cluttered with junk, but instead, she walked straight into a solid, warm chest—a living person.

That person, quick as lightning, covered her mouth and shut the wooden door in one smooth motion.

"Mmm!" Tong Youyu’s eyes went round with fright!

What was happening?

Just then, footsteps thudded up the stairs, clearly audible through layers of wood.

"Where is Yin Zijian?" a woman’s angry voice rang out, shrill and impatient. "I saw him come in!"

"This shop isn’t that big—he must have slipped out… Your Highness, we should return, it’s nearly dark…"

"So many people and none can find him—useless!" Princess Changhui fumed. "I went out of my way to show him the wonders of the capital, and he slipped away without so much as a thank you!"

"Your Highness…" the maid stammered, "Let’s hurry back to the palace, or Her Majesty will be angry…"

"Silence!" Princess Changhui snapped. "Anyone who dares speak before my mother again, I’ll cut her tongue out!"

The maid fell silent, coaxing the princess away with much effort.

Inside the cramped stairwell, Tong Youyu blinked, astonished.

Someone had hidden here before her—none other than the currently celebrated Young General of the Yin family, Yin Zijian.

The small space was dim and close; the man’s broad shoulders and narrow waist nearly enveloped her petite form.

Though she couldn’t see him clearly, it was almost certainly Yin Zijian.

Recently, the Yin family army had returned victorious; crowds had thronged Vermilion Bird Avenue, welcoming them, and Tong Youyu and her cousin had joined the festivities.

Yin Zijian, though young, had achieved much in battle and delighted the Emperor; his aunt was the most favored imperial concubine. Such prestige made him the hottest figure in the capital.

Unexpectedly, the beloved nephew of the imperial concubine attracted the princess’s admiration; from the maid’s words, it was surely Changhui Princess from the Empress’s household.

The Empress and the concubine had always been rivals—Yin Zijian’s charm was truly remarkable.

Once the princess departed, Yin Zijian prepared to leave as well.

"Wait," Tong Youyu stopped him, listening carefully—there was no sign of Shen Shuzhang calling for his cousin outside, so she let him open the door.

In the cramped stairwell, it was hard to take stock of each other; outside, in the spacious, bright area, they finally saw one another clearly.

He was a dark-skinned young general, with sword-like brows and starry eyes, the tips slightly upturned, lending him a fierce air—a blade unsheathed, all edge and brilliance.

He was so tall that Tong Youyu had to tilt her head to speak to him. "Are you Yin Zijian?"

She’d heard they were childhood playmates. Thinking, she said, "My father is the Magistrate of Youzhou. Do you remember me, Young General?"

"What?" Yin Zijian’s eyes narrowed. "The Magistrate of Youzhou is your father? You’re… Tong Youyu?"

The last three words came from his lips, deep and stiff.

"Do we truly know each other?" Tong Youyu, unaware of anything amiss, smiled gently. "Congratulations on your triumphant return, Young General."

She explained her amnesia, assuring him it wasn’t intentional forgetfulness.

Tong Youyu assumed that, even if they were not close, former playmates would exchange pleasantries—but Yin Zijian was silent, his deep eyes fixed on her.

Looking closer, his pupils held a faint, ghostly violet, and his silent gaze was rather intimidating.

"What is it?" Tong Youyu quietly stepped back.

"You are Tong Youyu? Amnesiac?" Yin Zijian was incredulous, nearly suspecting she was an imposter.

Before he trained as a warrior, he’d been frail and sickly, while Tong Youyu had been a sturdy little dumpling, taller and stronger than him; now, the roles were completely reversed.

A girl’s frame was naturally smaller than a boy’s, but—

This soft, sweet little maiden, whose slender waist he could break with one hand, claimed to be Tong Youyu?

Yin Zijian scoffed. "Who told you we were playmates?"

Even the slow-witted Tong Youyu sensed something was wrong. Hesitant, she said, "Ten years ago, Uncle Yin was stationed in Youzhou; perhaps the families were acquainted then?"

The Yin family’s victorious return had brought tales of her father’s friendship with them from Aunt’s lips—surely that couldn’t be mistaken.

Yin Zijian laughed, reached out, and pressed Tong Youyu against the small wooden door, bending down so his gaze met hers.

Their faces were close enough for his straight nose to nearly touch hers; those violet eyes were icy cold. "The adults got along well enough, but you, Tong Youyu, were the person I hated most as a child."

Tong Youyu was stunned, her pink lips parted, staring at him in utter confusion.

He said he hated her…