After dinner, the sky had completely darkened.

An oil lamp was lit inside the house, casting a dim light that barely illuminated the whole room. After helping clear the table, the young folks were promptly shooed out of the kitchen by the two elders, who felt they were just getting in the way.

Liu Fang, now pregnant, had become quite drowsy. Right after eating, she began to feel sleepy again and, stifling a yawn, was escorted to her room by Lin Erzhu for a bit of rest.

There were no lights in the courtyard, leaving it pitch-black. Yet, it allowed the stars to be seen clearly, sparkling across the sky alongside a half-crescent moon.

Shen Qingzhu hadn’t gone back inside. He stood in the courtyard with his hands behind his back, gazing up at the night sky.

When he was a child, his mother had told him that departed loved ones would turn into stars in the heavens, watching over them forever. She had once held his hand, pointing out a star, and told him it was his grandmother.

Shen Qingzhu’s eyes reflected the shimmering stars, his lashes trembling slightly. He wondered which of those stars was his mother and which one was his father…

A self-mocking smile appeared on his face. He was getting more sentimental with age, actually starting to believe such tales meant to comfort children.

Zhou Song came out of the kitchen after drawing water to wash the dishes, his sleeves rolled up. When he lifted his eyes, he saw a figure standing alone in the dark courtyard.

The thin silhouette looked hazy under the moonlight, as if it could vanish into mist at any moment, leaving no trace behind.

After hesitating a bit, he walked over, stopping two steps away from Shen Qingzhu. He didn’t move closer, nor did he speak.

In the quiet of the courtyard, the faint clinking of dishes could be heard from the kitchen, along with the cheerful chatter of the two aunts. Though the words weren’t clear, their joy was unmistakable.

“Zhou Song.”

Just as he was struggling with what to say, Shen Qingzhu spoke first. Startled, Zhou Song quickly replied, “I’m here.”

Shen Qingzhu didn’t turn around, continuing to gaze at the sky. After a brief silence, he asked, “Do you miss your parents?”

The unexpected question left Zhou Song momentarily speechless.

Shen Qingzhu turned to look at him. “Do you miss them?”

Under Shen Qingzhu’s gaze, Zhou Song nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“…I miss them, too,” Shen Qingzhu murmured, turning his gaze back to the sky. A faint smile touched his lips, but his voice was hoarse. “So much that it hurts sometimes…”

Zhou Song opened his mouth, but no words came. He understood that feeling too well—no amount of comforting words could ease such grief and helplessness.

“Sorry,” Shen Qingzhu looked at him, smiling apologetically. “I made you recall sad things.”

Zhou Song shook his head, his fingers slightly curling at his side. Gathering a rare moment of courage, he said, “Don’t smile if you don’t want to.”

Shen Qingzhu was taken aback. “What?”

Zhou Song took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “I mean, if you don’t want to smile, then don’t.”

Shen Qingzhu stared at him for a while, his smile gradually fading, leaving his face expressionless. Under the moonlight, he looked like a cold, jade statue—detached and emotionless.

Zhou Song felt a pang of regret, worried he might’ve said the wrong thing.

As he wavered, Shen Qingzhu’s soft voice broke the silence. “You’re right… if I don’t want to smile, I won’t.”

Saying this, he turned back to the night sky. In that instant, Zhou Song thought he saw a tear fall from his eye, or perhaps it was just the reflection of starlight.

He pressed his lips together, refraining from asking.

“It’s getting late. We should be going back. We’ll visit again some other time.”

“Alright, it’s dark already, so I won’t keep you. Let’s have another gathering tomorrow.”

Inside the kitchen, Wu Lanshu and the others had finished cleaning up. They came out, stopping in surprise to see the two of them standing in the dark courtyard.

“Why are you out here in the dark? Where’s that boy Erzhu?” Aunt Qian looked around, scanning the area for her son. “That rascal, he was supposed to be entertaining guests! Where’s he disappeared off to?”

“Don’t worry, Aunt. Little Brother Lin went inside to help his wife rest,” Shen Qingzhu replied calmly as the others joined them.

“Alright, then.” Hearing he was tending to his wife, Aunt Qian didn’t press further. She glanced at the dark night, saying, “I’ll fetch a lantern for you. Zhou Song, would you mind walking Wu Lanshu and them back? It’s not far, but the path is hard to see. I’d feel better with a strong man accompanying them.”

If it had been other villagers, Aunt Qian wouldn’t have been so concerned. But Shen Xiaolang was so handsome; she couldn’t help but worry a little more.

“Oh, there’s no need! It’s just a short walk. Shen Qingzhu and I can manage,” Wu Lanshu waved her hands dismissively.

“It’s alright, Sister Wu. Let him accompany you, so I don’t have to worry,” Aunt Qian said, patting her reassuringly.

In truth, she had a bit of a personal motive, knowing that Zhou Song had feelings for Shen Xiaolang. It was only right to give the young people more chances to spend time together; what happened from there was up to them.

With Aunt Qian insisting, Wu Lanshu had no choice but to accept.

“That’s settled, then.” Aunt Qian patted her again and turned to get the lantern.

Wu Lanshu turned to Zhou Song. “Then we’ll trouble you, Zhou Song.”

“It’s no trouble,” Zhou Song said, glancing briefly at Kun Ze and then adding, “I’ll get the bow for you.”

Shen Qingzhu nodded with a smile, watching Zhou Song walk into the hall before turning back to Wu Lanshu, who was watching him with a curious look.

“What’s with that look?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seeing his feigned innocence, Wu Lanshu sighed. “Shen Qingzhu, have you noticed Aunt Qian’s matchmaking intentions?”

Shen Qingzhu didn’t answer directly. With his hands clasped behind his back, he said, “And if I have?”

Wu Lanshu hesitated, frowning and sighing.

“What are you worried about?” Shen Qingzhu tilted his head, puzzled.

Wu Lanshu remained silent.

Shen Qingzhu lowered his gaze with a faint smile, then looked up at her. “Aunt Wu, do you think we’ll ever return to the capital?”

Wu Lanshu paused, realizing he had guessed her thoughts.

It wasn’t that she disliked Zhou Song. She only felt a pang of injustice for her young master. He had once been such a celebrated young noble in the capital, admired by countless prominent Qian Yuan. Now, he was relegated to a remote village, perhaps destined to marry a commoner. It felt like a disheartening fate for someone like him.

Yet Shen Qingzhu himself seemed more at peace with it than she was. “Even if we could go back, what future awaits a fallen son of the Shen family?”

Wu Lanshu’s mouth opened, but no words came.

“Those young lords who once sought me out… do you think they’d still treat me with respect or earnestly ask for my hand?”

Certainly not, Wu Lanshu knew.

If the Shen family were ever restored, it would still take time to rebuild their status. Even in the capital, he would be surrounded by people ready to pounce on any opportunity to humiliate him or, worse, make him a pawn for some powerful Qian Yuan.

Seeing her silent acknowledgment, Shen Qingzhu said, “My parents worked hard to send me away from the capital, not just to spare me from punishment. They must have foreseen such consequences. The Shen family can no longer protect me.”

Wu Lanshu’s eyes reddened with unshed tears. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and nodded, “I understand.”

Seeing her so affected, Shen Qingzhu smiled warmly, giving her arm a gentle pat. “Aunt Wu, don’t be so downhearted. Where we are now is far better than we once thought. As for the future… we’ll take it as it comes.”

The future was uncertain, after all, just as he had once thought he would always be the cherished Young Master Qingzhu, forever free under the care of his parents and sister.

Wu Lanshu brushed aside her emotions. “Alright, then. I’ll listen to you, Shen Qingzhu.”

Aunt Qian returned, carrying an old lantern, clearly used for many years. Its bamboo frame and paper covering were rather crude, obviously handmade.

“Just make do with this. It’s not too bright, but it’ll do,” she said.

“Thank you. This is fine; it’s just a short walk,” Wu Lanshu replied, her previous emotions now hidden. Luckily, the dim light concealed her expression.

By now, Zhou Song had returned with the bow slung over his shoulder. He took the lantern from Aunt Qian and opened the courtyard gate, preparing to lead the way.

After bidding farewell, the three of them stepped into the night.

Villagers were frugal, so after dark, the houses weren’t lit, and the whole village lay in darkness. It seemed very late, though it wasn’t yet that hour. In the capital, the night market would just be opening, bustling with activity.

But Shen Qingzhu preferred quiet, and he could count on one hand the times he had gone to the market—always with his sister, who would dart around excitedly.

Thinking back, those days felt like they belonged to another lifetime.

Zhou Song walked ahead, casting a broad shadow for the others. Concerned about them falling behind, he kept his pace slow, the lantern in his hand swaying gently and casting flickering shadows on the ground.

Autumn nights were cooler than the day, and Shen Qingzhu, knowing his own body, had dressed warmly, but still felt a chill. He lifted a hand to rub his arm.

“Are you cold?” Wu Lanshu, walking beside him, noticed his movement and asked.

Ahead, Zhou Song turned his head as well.

Shen Qingzhu lowered his hand. “I’m fine. Let’s just keep going.”

Without another word, Wu Lanshu picked up her pace, deciding it would be better to get home quickly.

Zhou Song hesitated, thinking of giving Shen Qingzhu his jacket, but decided it wasn’t appropriate. In the end, he just sped up a bit, shifting his body to shield him from the wind.

Luckily, they didn’t have far to go, and soon, they could see the familiar courtyard gate of their home.

Wu Lanshu pulled out a key to open the gate. Shen Qingzhu turned to the silent man, reaching out his hand.

Zhou Song was startled, not sure what he meant.

Seeing his dazed expression, Shen Qingzhu laughed, wiggling his fingers. “The bow. Or are you having second thoughts about giving it to me?”

Zhou Song snapped back to attention and hurriedly unhooked the bow. “No, I promised it’s yours.”

Shen Qingzhu accepted the bow, running his hand over its smooth surface. “You should get going. The night road isn’t easy.”

“Alright.” Zhou Song agreed but lingered, as though wanting to say something but not knowing what.

He hesitated, but Shen Qingzhu just looked at him, waiting without prompting him.

Finally, Zhou Song spoke, “Before my mother passed, she told me… people need to look forward. Some wounds may hurt a lot, but… they’ll heal.”

Leaving those words behind, he turned and walked away without looking back.

Shen Qingzhu watched the fading lantern light for a long time until Wu Lanshu called to him.

Coming back to his senses, he looked down at the bow in his hands and, after a moment, smiled softly. Yes, it would heal—eventually.