Over the next few days, Shen Ling stops treating the manor with the caution she exercised at the Marquis mansion and begins to enjoy her new found freedom.

 She rises early, walks the garden paths, learns the timing of the servants’ routines, and notes how the light changed across the bamboo grove at different hours.  A simple life filled with simple pleasures.

The mountain air suits her more than she expected. clean she wakes up feeling energized and ready to start her day

And always, just beyond the manor’s boundary, stands the neighboring estate. Old General Jiang’s residence.

She unconsciously walks by the neighboring estate hoping to catch a glimpse of Jiang Ye but  sees little, only movement at a distance. A guard changing posts. A gate opening briefly for supply carts. Occasionally, the faint sound of footsteps on stone, controlled and precise. The place feels disciplined even in its silence.

On the third morning, Shen Ling returns to the garden path and finds herself pausing again near the bamboo line. A familiar maid passes by adjusting her sleeves as she carries a tray of herbs. Shen Ling calls gently, “Has the general recovered well?”

The maid hesitates, then replies,  “The Old General is not seriously ill, Miss. Just… resting to fully recover. The physicians say he should avoid strain for a while longer." 

 Her gaze drifts over the tall gates once more  her expression showed a hint of disappointment. Jiang Ye’s grandfather…

 After hearing the person is the Old General. Shen Ling doesn’t think more about  the neighboring estate. The estate is simply… there. A place with tall gates and disciplined silence, like a second layer of the world, separate, self-contained, and not particularly relevant to her life. It no longer piques her interest.

 What matters to her is the change in her own days. For the first time in years maybe ever,  no one is watching her as someone to be managed and hidden, afraid  she might disrupt  Shen Roulan’s perfect existence.

 The countryside manor, plain as it is, gives her something she has never experienced before, freedom.. She wakes when she wants,  walks where she pleases.

She learns the rhythms of the estate not as rules, but as patterns she can  understand and move without restraint.

In the mornings, she sorts medicinal herbs she finds in the forest that match the descriptions in her aunt’s medical books.She learns quickly, fingers stained faintly with earth, a quiet satisfaction settling in her chest each time she identifies a medicinal plant or root correctly.

 During the afternoons, she read sin the shade of the  bamboo forest or wanders around the outer paths where wildflowers grow freely between stones. No one tells her to stay within  the confines of her courtyard, only to not wander too far into the mountain forest alone, don’t ignore the weather. Simple rules… Understandable ones. 

She occasionally looks at the mountain longingly but she has decided when she approaches her aunt’s Master that she wants to show him she is knowledgeable... a worthy disciple.

The neighboring estate remains distant in her awareness. Sometimes she hears faint movement beyond the wall, hoof beats, the clink of tools, the steady rhythm of a household that operates with military precision. She has no desire to interact with them and settles into a leisurely routine strengthening her foundation so  she can appear in front of the hermit confidently.

One afternoon, she sits at a stone table near the edge of the garden wall, quietly shelling peanuts for the cook. She wonders what the cook plans to make but she said it was a surprise.

A gentle wind moves through the bamboo behind her, the sky  cloudless and serene after a night of rain. Shen Ling feels a sense of peace she had never known before.

A  young servant passes by carrying water buckets and slows  briefly when he sees her. “You seem… at ease, Miss Shen,” he says cautiously, as if unsure whether it is appropriate to speak to the mistress of the manor. 

Shen Ling glances up from the basket of shelled peanuts, then smiles . “I suppose I am.”  It isn’t a question she expected anyone to ask her. But ,the answer came to her easily.Yes. I am very comfortable. 

The boy dazzled by her bright smile stands motionlessly for a moment, then smiles faintly before continuing through the courtyard to the kitchen.

She finishes shelling the peanuts and takes them to the kitchen, the boy nowhere to be seen. The only person in the kitchen is the cook, “All done.”

The cook frowns looking at Shen Ling’s face tinted with red., “Miss, you need to wear sunscreen and a hat when you sit outside. You have beautiful skin and don’t want to get a sunburn.”

Shen Ling touches her face. This is the first time anyone has told her to take care of herself besides Liu Bing. “It’s fine, Mrs. Mu.” Still, she thinks she might look through one of the medical books later to see if there is a formula for skin cream.

She sits on a stool not far from a long table covered with several containers. Propping her face in her hands, she asks, “What are you going to make?”

“Cookies.”

“Can I help?”

“If you want.”

The woman carefully shows Shen Ling how to grind the peanuts, then takes out a strange metal utensil.

“What is that?”

“It’s a mixer I had made. It makes blending the ingredients much easier.”

They continue working together, and after the dough is rolled into small round balls, the cook says, “Now press your thumb on the dough ball. These are called thumbprint cookies.”

Shen Ling laughs as she presses her thumb into one of the dough balls.

Mrs. Mu gazes at her with a complicated expression. “Miss, you should laugh more often.”

Shen Ling thinks to herself that it’s too bad Mrs. Mu doesn’t have children—she would be a good mother.

When the cookies are done baking, the aroma makes Shen Ling’s mouth water. “The cookies smell so good.”

She waits until they cool, then bites into a still-warm cookie. “Ah… so delicious.”

Mrs. Mu smiles, wistful. They would be better with a piece of chocolate on top. I do miss eating chocolate…

Later in the week, Shen Ling takes a longer walk along the outer path, following it as it curves away from both the manor and the neighboring estate. The air grows cooler, touched with mountain wind, carrying the scent of pine and damp stone.

For a while, she walks without thinking of anything in particular, not the capital, not her sister, not the banquet, not even the future. Just the sound of her own footsteps and the feeling of open space around her.

When she eventually turns back, she pauses once, looking at the distant outline of the Shen manor behind her, then at the quiet presence of the neighboring estate beyond the wall. For a brief moment, she wonders if Jiang Ye will visit his grandfather.

Shen Ling adjusts her sleeves, turns away, and continues along the path. A small, genuine breath of relief leaves her lips. “I could get used to this.”

For the first time, the thought isn’t a dream of escape. It is simply the recognition of a life already beginning to feel like her own.  Everyday she sleeps peacefully...no nightmares... no anxiety  waking up refreshed eager to continue towards her dream.

Little White follows beside her obediently until it suddenly leaps over the wall into Old General Jiang’s estate.

She puffs out her cheeks. “Little White! Get back here!”

She rushes forward, reaching the wall just in time to hear the faint patter of paws disappearing on the other side. Of course. Of course it goes over there.

She exhales once, more resigned than panicked, and glances around. No servants. No witnesses.

“…Don’t make this dramatic,” she mutters to herself.

Gathering her skirt, she places her hands on the stone and climbs. After years of scaling the towering tree in her courtyard at the Marquis mansion, she moves with practiced agility, following the misbehaving cat.

On the other side, the courtyard is unexpectedly still, not empty, just quiet in a deliberate way. Stone paths are swept clean. A small pond sits among carefully arranged rocks. Bamboo stands in disciplined rows, as if even nature has been taught to behave properly.

At the center is a low table. where two men sit across from each other, playing Go.

One is unmistakably General Jiang. His posture is upright yet relaxed, shaped by long experience rather than strain. His hair is mostly white, tied back simply, and a long beard frames his face, giving him a calm, carved-stone presence. He wears a plain black robe—unadorned, yet clearly made of the finest brocade.

Across from him sits another elderly man, also white-haired and plainly dressed. His gray robe looks common, almost worn. His presence is quieter, more withdrawn—like someone who belongs to the mountains rather than the court.

Shen Ling freezes halfway down the wall.

Unfortunately, her cat does not.

It lands gracefully in the courtyard and walks straight toward the Go board as if it belongs there.

Both men look up at the same time.

Silence.

The cat meows once, unimpressed by authority, and sits beside the stones.

General Jiang blinks slowly. “…That is not one of mine,” he says calmly.

The white-haired man studies the cat, then hums in approval. “Good temperament. Unbothered by rank.”

Shen Ling, still half-crouched on the wall, closes her eyes briefly. Awkward. So awkward.

She sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says as she finally drops down into the courtyard. “My cat...ran off.”

Her long black lashes flutter as she inwardly curses Little White.