The fourth stop was the Misty Waters Courtyard.
This courtyard was different from the others.
It was not noisy, dark, or cold.
The gate stood open. A lantern sat on the stone table in the courtyard, its flame burning steadily inside a glass shade and casting a circle of warm yellow light over the surrounding flower beds.
Liu Ruyan stood inside the gate.
She had changed out of her bridal robes into a set of moon-white everyday clothes, and had taken down and redone her hair with the same silver hairpin.
When she saw Gu Moran enter, she stepped back, bent at the waist, and gave him a formal greeting according to the rules for wives and concubines.
"This humble wife welcomes Your Highness."
She straightened, turned sideways to lead him in, brewed tea, set out food, laid down a cushion, and handed him a hot towel.
Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next, neither hurried nor superfluous.
In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, four plates of pastries, a pot of tea, and two bowls of plain congee had been laid out on the table.
Then she stepped back to the other side of the table and stood there.
She did not sit.
She waited for him to pick up his chopsticks first.
Gu Moran looked at the spread on the table, then at the empty chair opposite him.
He did not pick up his chopsticks.
He rose, walked around the seat of honor, and sat down in the guest's chair opposite her.
Liu Ruyan's eyelashes stirred.
The guest's seat.
He had taken the guest's seat.
The seat of honor was empty.
"You don't have to do this."
He picked up his teacup and took a sip, his tone conversational.
"Do whatever you want tonight. I only came to see if you were settling in."
Liu Ruyan lowered her eyes.
"Everything is well with me."
"Is the courtyard big enough? Would you like a few more pots of flowers?"
"It's enough. Thank you, Your Highness."
"All right, then." He stood up. "Get some rest early. I still have a few courtyards to visit."
As Gu Moran walked out of the courtyard gate, he looked back.
Liu Ruyan was still standing where she had been, one hand resting on the edge of the table, her fingers slowly rubbing its surface.
That hand was a little steadier than when he had come in.
The fifth stop was the Iron Plum Courtyard.
Before he even pushed the gate open, a clattering came from inside.
It sounded like metal objects hitting the ground.
The moment Gu Moran pushed open the courtyard gate, a streak of silver thrust straight at him.
He sidestepped on reflex. The sword tip sliced past the outside of his shoulder, sending a scrap of fabric fluttering to the ground.
Lin Qingdai stood in the courtyard with a longsword in her hand, a strip of fabric from his clothes still hanging from its tip.
"Get out."
Behind her, an overturned weapons rack lay on the ground, three short sabers, two spears, and a bow scattered across the floor.
Gu Moran glanced at the slash in his shoulder. There was no blood; only the fabric had been cut.
He raised both hands.
"I surrender."
"Who asked you to surrender? I told you to get out."
"Nice swordsmanship."
Lin Qingdai pointed her sword at his throat.
"Cut the nonsense."
"What's that move called? Reverse Scale Thrust?"
The sword tip advanced half an inch, almost touching his skin.
"How did you know?"
"When you struck, your right foot was forward and your left foot back. Your sword followed the center line, aiming straight for the throat. That's the third of the Seven Forms of the Reverse Scale, passed down in the Grand Commandant's household."
He had spent two hours poring over martial arts manuals in the middle of the previous night, and had studied the diagrams breaking down the Lin family's sword manual three times.
But he could not say that.
Lin Qingdai's brows knitted.
"When did you see my family's sword manual?"
"I haven't seen it. I guessed. The angle of your attack was three inches too far to the left, and your wrist lacked strength when you withdrew. The sword tip wavered in the final inch."
He spoke casually, but every word hit the mark.
Lin Qingdai withdrew her sword.
Not because he had convinced her, but because her instincts told her that his technical observations were correct.
The attack angle three inches off, the lack of wrist strength, the wavering in the final inch.
She knew about all those problems, but she had never told an outsider about them.
How had a wastrel spotted them?
She stabbed her sword into the ground. With a clang, it lodged in a gap between the bricks.
"Who exactly are you?"
"I'm your husband."
"Stop making me sick."
She bent down to pick up the scattered short sabers and returned them to the weapons rack one by one, her back to him.
"Let me ask you. Do you really not know martial arts?"
"I really don't. You saw those three moves the Grand Commandant used on me. He nearly beat me into a dried persimmon."
"Then how did you spot the problems with my swordsmanship?"
"I have good eyes."
Lin Qingdai put the last short saber back on the rack and turned around.
"I don't believe you" was written all over her face.
But she did not press him further. Instead, she pointed at the courtyard gate.
"You've seen enough. Leave."
Gu Moran took two steps toward the exit, then paused at the gate.
"Miss Lin."
"What now?"
"That problem with your wrist isn't about strength. It's your grip. Your index finger is curled too far in, so the force is being dissipated through your knuckle. Try applying force with the web between your thumb and forefinger instead."
He left as soon as he had finished speaking, giving her no chance to talk back.
Lin Qingdai stood in the courtyard, staring in the direction he had gone, her teeth grinding.
After a long while, she bent down and pulled the longsword out of the ground.
She adjusted her grip.
She loosened her index finger a little and tightened the web between her thumb and forefinger.
She rotated her wrist in a circle.
This time, the sword tip did not waver.
She gripped the hilt, her expression changing several times before she finally forced a word out through her nose.
"Tch."
The final stop.
The Tranquil Ink Courtyard.
This courtyard was the quietest of the six.
There was no closed gate, no flying knife, no overturned weapons rack.
The courtyard gate stood slightly ajar, and it made no sound when he pushed it open.
Xie Wanqing stood in the courtyard, waiting respectfully.
She wore a set of light-colored everyday clothes, her hair was neatly combed, and her face was clean.
When she saw him enter, she bent at the waist and greeted him.
"This humble wife welcomes you, husband."
After straightening, she gestured for him to follow her in.
"I have prepared tea for you, husband."
Gu Moran followed her inside and sat down.
The tea had already been brewed and was just the right temperature, neither too hot nor too cool.
The pastries had also been set out: four plates, arranged neatly.
She sat down opposite him, her hands on her knees and her back straight.
"Please have some tea, husband."
He picked up the cup and took a sip.
Longjing.
It was neither a tea he loved nor one he disliked. It was the safest choice.
She did not know what tea he liked, so she had chosen one anyone could accept.
"Thank you."
"You're too polite, husband."
He set down his cup and looked at her.
Her posture was perfect, her expression appropriate, and every word she spoke was a textbook response from a wife or concubine.
Husband. This humble wife. Husband. This humble wife.
Every sentence was framed by those two terms at its beginning and end.
"What tea do you like?"
Xie Wanqing was taken aback.
"Whatever tea you like, husband, I shall..."
"I'm asking what you like."
She stopped.
Her lips moved, then closed.
They moved again, then closed.
She was silent for a long time.
So long that the only sound left in the room was the chirping of autumn insects outside the window.
"Biluochun."
Her voice was so soft that he had to lean forward slightly to hear her.
But it was the first thing she had said that night that did not begin with "husband" or end with "this humble wife."
Gu Moran committed the name to memory.
"All right. I'll have someone prepare Biluochun tomorrow."
He stood up and did not linger.
At the doorway, he spoke again.
"You don't have to wait for me. If you're sleepy, go to bed."
Xie Wanqing rose and saw him to the door, watching him walk away.
After the courtyard gate closed, she turned back into the room and put away the tea things on the table, one piece at a time.
When she reached the last cup, her fingers paused on its rim.
Biluochun.
Holding the cup, she stood at the table for a long time.
His rounds of the six courtyards were complete.
By the time Gu Moran returned to his study, a streak of grayish white had appeared on the horizon.
His body still had not recovered, and he was tired. He had neither the inclination nor the ability to force himself on anyone.
He sat down at his desk, and the system panel opened automatically.
The favorability ratings of his six wives were listed in a column.
[Su Yao: -65 (↑2). Source of fluctuation: the white plum variety precisely matched her personal preference, causing slight confusion.] [Shen Ling'er: -6 (↑4). Source of fluctuation: her drugging attempt was detected, heightening her curiosity. The "not easily fooled" label has been reinforced.] [Murong Xue: -45 (↑10). Source of fluctuation: the martial artist's salute elicited a faint response on the level of cultural identification. The subject's assessment remains "Central Plains weakling."] [Liu Ruyan: -20 (↑2). Source of fluctuation: his voluntary choice of the guest's seat caused a faint conflict on the cognitive level. "Perfect service mode" has shown its first signs of interruption.] [Lin Qingdai: -62 (↑8). Source of fluctuation: his accurate assessment of technical details in her swordsmanship struck a chord on the level of "martial arts recognition." The "puzzlement" label has been generated.] [Xie Wanqing: +1 (↑1). Note: she voluntarily expressed a personal preference for the first time. A tiny crack has appeared in her "numb" state.]
All six numbers had risen.
The smallest increase was Xie Wanqing's single point.
But zero had become a positive number.
He leaned back in his chair and stretched his aching neck.
He had won his bet on the gambling house's "Will the Third Prince survive his wedding night?" wager.
At one to one and a half odds, his stake of five hundred taels had earned him a net profit of two hundred and fifty taels.
"I have everyone in the capital to thank for their lack of faith in this prince."
He scrolled to the bottom of the panel.
The countdowns ticked away quietly there.
[Countdown until Ye Qingyun, Son of Destiny, arrives in the capital: 14 days.] [Heavenly Dao Correction Force activity level: low. Daily recovery rate: 0.3%-0.5%.] [Countdown until Xiao Jinghan, Son of Destiny, is released from prison: 65 days.]
Two lines were drawing together toward him.
He stood up, walked to the window and pushed it open. The cool morning breeze rushed in, clearing his head a little.
"Fourteen days."
He tapped his fingers twice on the windowsill.
"First, I have to survive these fourteen days."
A new message popped up in the upper-right corner of the system.
He glanced at it, and his fingers stopped on the windowsill.
[Nighttime monitoring anomaly: Su Yao of Clear Frost Courtyard rose during the hour of the tiger and spent twenty-three minutes admiring the white plum blossoms in the courtyard. During that time, she touched a branch of the cold-fragrant white plum once.] [Emotional fluctuation detected: trace amount, direction undetermined.]
The corners of his mouth curved up slightly.