Chapter 4 – Flavor

Sweeter than honey, yet also crushing the heart and breaking the soul…

Did he blame her?

The lively sounds of the long street gradually faded away, leaving the carriage wrapped in silence both inside and out.

He Zhiyu’s gaze fell lightly, yet steadily, on Li Wu’s face.

He turned her words over in his mind, staring at the woman sitting across from him.

Unbidden, memories of their past rose in his heart.

The first time he met Li Wu, he was eighteen.

At that time, he was a poor scholar who had come to the capital for the imperial examinations, following his late mother’s last wish. By fortune, he placed first as the top scholar, not letting down the mother who had raised him alone.

From childhood, he had devoted himself wholly to his studies, never giving a thought to love between man and woman—he had no idea what such feelings even tasted like.

Until he met Li Wu.

At sixteen, she looked little different from the woman before him now: fond of wearing red, with snow-pale skin and crimson lips, radiant and dazzling, utterly unlike any other young lady.

Bold and unrestrained, she had chased after him with a bright smile after only seeing him twice. Every essay and poem he had written, she had collected and bound into a volume, memorizing them by heart. If he ignored her, she would deliberately follow close behind, reciting them line by line in a low voice, leaving him helpless.

“He Zhiyu, your essays are so wonderful.”

“He Zhiyu, when will you write me a poem?”

“He Zhiyu…”

Back then, she always called his full name with a sweet smile, so full of life.

But he had always thought his name was ugly.

Zhiyu, Zhiyu.

His mother had told him bluntly: she named him that because she thought he was unnecessary, a burden, someone who had ruined her life.

Later, he confided this to Li Wu.

She had held him, her tone full of pity, whispering softly in his ear: “It clearly means ‘to know that if I can spend the rest of my life with you, it will surely be happiness and joy.’ That is what Zhiyu means.”

At eighteen, he had been far too foolish. He believed her words.

He truly thought that he and Li Wu would share a lifetime together—that they would have an entire future.

Until Li Wu abandoned him. Like a brutal strike to the head, it awakened him overnight.

Did he blame her?

He Zhiyu turned her words over again in his mind.

His gaze cooled, but the corners of his lips curved faintly in a smile.

“What does Your Highness mean by this?”

Li Wu carefully watched every subtle change in his expression. Her embroidered shoe still pressed against his boot, and she asked sincerely: “By coming all the way to Dali Temple to find you like this, did I trouble you? I noticed many of your colleagues looked as though they were waiting for a spectacle. Lord He, you’ve always been perceptive—you must know I had no choice. Surely you don’t blame me?”

She spoke only of today, not the past.

He Zhiyu’s eyes darkened, his voice cool as he looked at her. “What right would I, a mere official, have to blame the Princess?”

It sounded as if he were speaking of her appearance at Dali Temple earlier.

Li Wu seemed to relax at that. She withdrew her foot beneath her skirts and smiled.

“As long as Lord He does not blame me.”

He Zhiyu no longer bothered to respond.

It was this woman who had made him understand what love felt like—sweeter than all the honey in the world, yet also a torment that crushed the heart and broke the soul.

And yet, none of the pain had ever mattered to her.

When she abandoned him, had she even hesitated for half a moment? Had she ever once remembered the “sweetness” they shared?

She had never loved him at all.

He Zhiyu fell silent.

Li Wu, surprisingly perceptive, did not press further. She made no effort to chat idly, nor did she bring up the matter of marriage to the Tatars again.

The carriage finally stopped before the gates of the Princess’s residence.

He Zhiyu quickly alighted first, as though unwilling to remain in the carriage with her a moment longer.

But since he was a guest here, he could not simply leave her behind. He was forced to stand by the carriage, waiting for Li Wu to descend.

Today, she had brought no maid with her. Clearly, she had arranged this beforehand, for no servants came to greet her. And so, He Zhiyu saw her extend a slender hand toward him, the movement entirely natural.

It was a clear signal—she wanted him to offer his arm and help her down.

He Zhiyu did not move.

Li Wu was not offended. Instead, her lips curved as she placed her hand directly on his shoulder, borrowing his strength to step down from the carriage.

Even through the fabric, he could feel the softness of her palm.

The weight on his shoulder darkened his expression, his face cold as he reluctantly steadied her, supporting her until she stood before him.

Li Wu laughed, her hand still resting on him, smiling with delight.

“Thank you, Lord He.”

He Zhiyu knew she had won again.

His brows furrowed, annoyance flashing in his chest. His face grew colder as he withdrew his hand, stepping back two paces and deliberately brushing at the spot where she had touched him.

The gesture carried unmistakable disdain.

Li Wu saw it, her gaze flickering playfully. She asked on purpose: “So Lord He truly detests me?”

He Zhiyu replied flatly: “I wouldn’t dare.”

Her smile deepened as she stepped forward, closing the distance he had just created. She leaned in, peering at him closely. “Is that so?”

The space between them shrank to nothing—so close he could smell the sweet apricot fragrance on her body, so close he could see the faint lines of her red lips.

So close that with the slightest tilt forward, there would be no distance left between them.

Irritation welled in He Zhiyu’s heart as he looked at her with cold eyes.

“Of course.”

Suppressing his impulse, he forced his voice to remain steady, his tone distant: “Your Highness, shouldn’t you go inside now?”

Li Wu gave him one last glance before turning into the residence.

A few loose strands of hair brushed his cheek like feathers as she passed. His gaze followed her figure for several breaths before he finally stepped forward to follow.

---

Inside the Princess’s residence, He Zhiyu kept his eyes forward, trailing Li Wu toward Yueyi Pavilion.

In truth, the place was not unfamiliar.

Compared to three years ago, nothing had changed.

The carved beams and painted rafters, the elegant pavilions and terraces—all stood as they had, refined and graceful, nestled among flowering trees. The jade-paved path to Yueyi Pavilion was lined with peonies. In bloom, they would blaze in fiery colors, their fragrance filling the air.

Yet he had once thought he would never set foot here again.

A faint, bitter smile flickered in his heart. Glancing at the woman ahead, his expression grew unreadable.

Sensing his gaze, Li Wu showed no reaction.

She led him into the flower hall of Yueyi Pavilion and sat down.

“Serve Lord He some tea.”

After giving the order, she asked Qingzhi, “Is Wanwan awake?”

Qingzhi replied, “Your Highness, the young miss has already woken from her nap.”

Li Wu nodded, then instructed, “Bring Wanwan here.”

Qingzhi bowed and left.

So he had not been mistaken: there really was a child in the Princess’s residence.

A child still hidden from the outside world.

Li Wu likely wanted to use his presence to make the child’s existence known.

But to what end?

The matter of marriage to the Tatars had never been real—the Emperor never intended for her to go. With her close relationship to her imperial brother, Li Wu surely knew this.

Then what exactly was she planning?

He Zhiyu frowned slightly, though his face betrayed nothing.

Soon, the maid brought tea and snacks before withdrawing, leaving only the two of them.

Li Wu propped her chin on one hand, staring at him. He, aware of her gaze, remained silent.

She too said nothing—only looked at him from start to finish.

“Mother~”

Before long, a tender, milky voice broke the silence.

Li Wu’s lips curved as she looked toward the child, beckoning with a smile. “Wanwan, come here.”

Two-year-old Li Wan toddled toward her on short legs.

As she passed He Zhiyu, she stopped, tilting her head to gaze at him with wide, dark eyes.

He Zhiyu finally saw her clearly.

The “Wanwan” Li Wu spoke of wore red, her collar, cuffs, and hem embroidered with small peonies. Two little buns tied with red ribbons sat atop her head, silver bells dangling and chiming sweetly as she moved. A red floral decal adorned her forehead, making her look like a doll straight out of a New Year’s painting. Most striking of all—her brows and eyes faintly resembled Li Wu’s.

Li Wu had left the capital three years ago. This child looked about two years old.

Three years ago, they had been involved.

It almost matched up.

If Li Wu claimed this child was theirs, others would surely believe it.

He Zhiyu studied Wanwan for a long moment before lifting his gaze to Li Wu.

Wanwan too looked from him to Li Wu, her little brows furrowed, puzzled by the handsome stranger in the hall.

“Come here, Wanwan.”

Li Wu smiled again, beckoning her forward.

The little girl walked on, short legs carrying her to Li Wu’s side.

Li Wu picked her up, settling her on her lap. She said seriously, “Didn’t Mother say we would come back to find your father? This man is your father.”

“Father?”

Wanwan tilted her head, eyes wide with even more confusion, the bells on her head jingling wildly.

He Zhiyu had thought that, in front of the child, Li Wu would not act the same way she did in private.

But she was utterly calm, even telling the child that he was her father.

Just days ago, when Li Wu first mentioned the child, he had been certain she was not his—perhaps not even hers.

But now, in this moment, doubt stirred within him.

After all, in these three years, he had known almost nothing of her. Who was to say this wasn’t possible?

Though Li Wu seemed casual, He Zhiyu was already beginning to take the matter seriously.

If she truly was his daughter, then he had grievously wronged them both these past years.

Before he could speak, Wanwan suddenly lit up with joy, looking past him to the doorway.

Stretching out her little arms, she leaned forward, calling sweetly: “Father!”

He Zhiyu turned toward the entrance.

There, a tall, broad-shouldered young man with sword-like brows strode in, his face alight with joy. “Wanwan!”

He crossed the hall in great strides and scooped the little girl into his arms.

“Wanwan, did you miss me?”

Clinging to his neck, Wanwan rubbed her cheek against his, giggling sweetly. “Yes!”

The scene radiated warmth, like a picture of family bliss.

Even in front of Li Wu, where He Zhiyu had always managed to maintain his composure, in this moment he was left momentarily stunned.

Recalling the thoughts he had just entertained, a surge of both bitterness and agitation rose within him.

Abruptly, He Zhiyu stood.

Without a word, without a backward glance, his face dark, he strode out of the flower hall of Yueyi Pavilion.