Today, Lin Ting wore an apricot-colored long skirt, squatting conspicuously in front of the Imperial College gate.
She wasn’t exactly a well-behaved girl either; her eyes darted around restlessly, looking this way and that.
Because of this, Lin Ting spotted Duan Ling in his blue scholar’s robe: “Duan Ling!”
She had been calling him by his given name like this for half a year already.
Perhaps spending so much time together had made her bolder.
Duan Ling walked over to her and looked down at her: “You… why are you here?”
Lin Ting stood up, the hem of her skirt swaying as the embroidered flowers caught his eye.
She then shook the box of pastries carefully packed by Li Jingqiu: “I came to bring you some food.”
His gaze shifted from the pastries back to her face: “You brought me food?”
She shoved the box into his hands, and inevitably, their fingertips brushed against each other: “Yes. You’re supposed to stay at the Imperial College for a few months before leaving, right? My mother worries you won’t eat well there, so she asked me to bring you some.”
Duan Ling’s fingers moved slightly as he took the pastries: “Madam Li is thoughtful. When you return, please thank her for me.”
Lin Ting glanced at the pastries.
Despite holding back, her eyes betrayed her craving: “Why don’t you open it and try one now? These were specially bought from Shixiang Pavilion by my mother.”
Her tone held a hint of sourness.
Shixiang Pavilion was a famous pastry shop in Jingcheng that only sold eighteen portions a day, making it very hard to get.
She had only tasted their pastries a few times, but each time, she marveled at how the shop deserved its pride—few pastries could melt in your mouth, not be overly sweet, and never get cloying.
Although delicious, they were also very expensive.
A few pieces cost several taels of silver, averaging one tael for a finger-sized pastry—enjoyable yet a little painful to eat for Lin Ting.
As she wished, Duan Ling opened the box and took a bite of one.
Lin Ting watched eagerly.
He handed the pastry back to her: “It’s pretty good. Want to try one too?”
“That wouldn’t be right. These were sent by my mother to you.”
Though she said this, her hand was already reaching into the box.
Duan Ling knew it took over an hour by carriage from Lin Mansion to the Imperial College—quite a distance: “It’s fine. You’ve been on the road for over an hour. You must be hungry too.”
Lin Ting opened her mouth and swallowed a piece in one bite: “Then I won’t be polite.”
After finishing it, she slowly raised a finger: “Can I have another one? I ate too fast earlier and didn’t taste it properly.”
He knew this was her excuse to keep eating but didn’t call her out: “You may.”
At that moment, a few scholars who knew Duan Ling passed by the Imperial College gate and saw them.
They came over to greet him: “Brother Duan.”
Duan Ling nodded to them.
The scholars glanced at Lin Ting and asked, “Who is this?”
Duan Ling’s mother, Madam Feng, and his sister, Duan Xinning, had visited the Imperial College before.
They wouldn’t mistake this little girl for his sister.
Lin Ting still had pastry in her mouth and couldn’t speak yet.
Afraid she’d spit crumbs if she talked, she forced herself to swallow, but she’d bitten off too much and had no water; her dry throat made it take some time.
Duan Ling remained composed and gently introduced her: “She is a handkerchief friend of my younger sister.”
The scholars exchanged looks, unconvinced.
How could a friend of his sister take a carriage to the Imperial College just to bring him food?
This wasn’t a case of ‘love extends to the neighbor’s house.’
It was more likely that Duan Ling was covering up that this girl was actually betrothed to him because he hadn’t refused the food and had eaten it.
Many thirteen or fourteen-year-olds in Jingcheng were already betrothed but kept it private for the time being.
Their gaze toward Lin Ting became subtly different, but they said: “I see. We have some matters to attend to, so we won’t bother you further.”
Lin Ting finally swallowed the pastry, realizing that greed almost made her choke.
She cleared her throat and looked at their retreating backs: “Are they your classmates?”
“Yeah. But they’re from the external class, and I’m from the internal class. We’ve only met a few times.”
Duan Ling usually didn’t make friends and was polite yet distant with almost all his classmates.
A bell sounded at the Imperial College, struck three times in a row.
Lin Ting guessed he was about to attend class and didn’t want to linger: “I should go back too.”
Just as she spoke, it started to rain heavily.
Duan Ling raised his hand to catch some raindrops, his fingers reddening under the pounding beads, while the horse in front of Lin Mansion’s carriage restlessly moved: “The rain is too heavy. Wait until it eases a bit before you leave?”
She pulled him under the eaves of the Imperial College to avoid the rain: “I’m not allowed inside the Imperial College?”
Duan Ling lowered his hand, letting water drip through his fingers, calm and unhurried: “It’s fine. The dean would understand; after all, it’s dangerous to go back in a heavy downpour.”
After saying this, he asked the guard at the gate to help bring the carriage around to the back yard.
Lin Ting looked up at the suddenly dark, cloud-covered sky, then at her damp hair, thinking how unlucky she was to bring her maid Yahuan and coachman to seek shelter inside the Imperial College with Duan Ling.
Duan Ling led her through the corridor to the guest hall, letting her stay there until the rain stopped.
She took the handkerchief Yahuan handed her and wiped the raindrops from her hair: “You should go to class. I’ll wait here with them.”
“If after class, the rain is still heavy, I will come find you.”
He had someone bring several umbrellas for her, then opened one himself and left.
Lin Ting watched him go and casually found a place to sit, then began to observe the Imperial College.
Even the guest hall for visitors was filled with books and equipped with several palace lanterns that lit up at night or in gloomy rainy weather.
The rain drove away the summer heat, making her even sleepier.
She closed her eyes and leaned over on the bench.
Before closing her eyes, she reminded Yahuan to watch the rain carefully and wake her once it eased.
Yahuan was used to her young mistress’s carefree nature by now, stationed the coachman at the hall entrance, and stayed inside to watch over the sleeping Lin Ting.
Half an hour later, the rain hadn’t let up but grew heavier, accompanied by booming thunder that woke Lin Ting.
She sat cross-legged, still groggy, yawning: “How long have I been asleep?”
Yahuan tidied her disheveled hair and replied, “You slept for half an hour.”
Lin Ting got up and looked out at the rain from the hall’s doorway: “It’s been half an hour, and it’s still pouring. Will it rain all night?”
The coachman hurriedly said: “If Seventh Miss Lin wants to return to the mansion now, I can take you.”
She glanced at the coachman’s graying temples, pulled out three candies from somewhere, handed one to each man, and unwrapped the last one to put into her mouth: “It’s still early. No rush. Let’s have a candy first.”
Leaning against the hall door, Lin Ting watched the rain.
Before she knew it, another half hour passed, and it was already noon, the usual time for class dismissal.
Duan Ling had said he would come find her after class, but he hadn’t shown up yet.
Was something delaying him?
Or did they have “over-time classes” even in ancient times?
It wasn’t that Lin Ting was anxious to see Duan Ling; she was simply hungry.
The few pastries she ate earlier hadn’t filled her stomach.
She hoped Duan Ling would take her to the Imperial College’s “dining hall” for lunch.
Lin Ting decided to wait another fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes passed quickly, and her hunger pressed painfully against her chest and back.
She called out to two scholars passing the guest hall’s door: “Have you finished class?”
Though they didn’t know why there was a little girl inside the Imperial College, seeing her in the guest hall, they assumed she must be someone of status and treated her kindly: “Yes, class is dismissed.”
The sound of rain covered up Lin Ting’s stomach growls: “Do you know Duan Ling?”
Seeing she seemed familiar with Duan Ling, their tone grew even warmer: “No one at the Imperial College doesn’t know Second Young Master Duan. Of course, we know him. Miss, do you need to find him for something?”
Lin Ting told the truth: “He said he would come find me after class, but he hasn’t come yet. Can you tell me where he usually has class? I want to look for him.”
There were many lecture halls in the Imperial College.
She didn’t know which one Duan Ling attended, and wandering around blindly would waste too much time.
They quickly pointed her in the right direction.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Miss.”
Seeing she had no more questions, they left.
Yahuan waited until they were gone before asking: “Seventh Miss Lin, why do you suddenly want to find Second Young Master Duan? Shall we wait a bit longer? Maybe he’s on his way.”
“I’m not waiting. You come with me.”
Lin Ting chewed her candy and looked at the coachman: “Chen Shu, stay here and wait for us. If you see him, tell him I came looking for him.”
The coachman worriedly said: “Yes, Seventh Miss. Please be careful.”
Lin Ting opened the umbrella and stepped out of the hall.
Yahuan hurried to keep up.
The rain was so heavy that near the lecture hall, the umbrella in Yahuan’s hand almost got knocked away by the raindrops, but Lin Ting quickly grabbed it back.
Her appearance and strength both reminded one of Li Jingqiu.
At just thirteen, she was already quite strong.
Once Yahuan steadied the umbrella, Lin Ting looked ahead.
The Imperial College’s lecture hall doors and windows were generally left open to allow scholars to enter and study freely.
The doors and windows were set far from the eaves, so rainwater running off the tiles wouldn’t splash inside and cause dampness.
Lin Ting quickly walked to the lecture hall and looked inside, but did not see Duan Ling.
She closed the umbrella, stepped over the wooden door, and called: “Duan Ling?”
No answer.
Yahuan hesitated: “Could Second Young Master Duan have forgotten we’re still at the Imperial College?”
“He has a good memory. He wouldn’t forget we’re still here. He must have been delayed by something.”
Lin Ting continued searching for Duan Ling.
At the far end of the lecture hall, she found a small book room with a locked door.
She touched the sign beside it: “Book Room.”
The lecture hall doors were never locked.
Why would the book room be locked?
On such a gloomy rainy day, even with the lights on inside, Yahuan found it eerie.
Since class was over and no one else was around except them, she suggested Lin Ting return to the guest hall with the coachman.
“Maybe there are precious books inside. Since Second Young Master Duan isn’t here, let’s go back.”
Lin Ting suddenly bent down and picked up a scented sachet embroidered with the character “Yu” lying by the door.
She smelled it, confirming it was familiar agarwood.
She knocked on the door: “Is anyone inside?”
Then she thought of the Imperial College’s reputation for soundproofing.
Even if someone was inside, they might not hear her.
Taking out a hairpin, she began to pick the lock like a thief.
Yahuan was shocked by her actions: “Seventh Miss Lin, what are you doing?”
Lin Ting listened to the lock clicking: “I want to see inside.”
Since she was little, she loved wandering the streets and had learned lock-picking from an old beggar.
Yahuan glanced outside nervously: “This is the Imperial College, not a place to mess around. Before anyone finds out, let’s leave quickly.”
Lin Ting said nothing.
The lock opened, and Yahuan’s heart sank.
Lin Ting pushed the door and stepped inside.
Inside, she immediately saw Duan Ling.
He was standing behind a bookshelf, half his body hidden, only his face visible through a gap between books: “Who locked you in here?”
The lock was locked from the outside, so it couldn’t have been him.
Duan Ling calmly lowered his gaze to a corpse also hidden behind the bookshelf and said evenly, “How did you know I was here?”
From Lin Ting’s angle, she couldn’t see what was behind the bookshelf, so she didn’t say she was hungry and came looking for him to get food: “I saw you didn’t come find me after class and worried something had happened, so I came looking for you.”
At the word “worried,” he raised his eyes.
She touched her nose: “I found your scented sachet outside the book room door and suspected you were inside, so… I picked the lock.”
“You still haven’t answered me: who locked you in here?” she asked again.
At the crack of thunder, Duan Ling kicked the corpse into a tunnel.
Casually moving a book on the shelf, the floor folded up swiftly, hiding the dim tunnel.
He stepped out from behind the bookshelf, his blue scholar’s robe still clean without a drop of blood.
He didn’t say who the person was: “Maybe they just wanted to play a joke on me.”
Duan Ling shifted the topic: “Are you hungry? Let’s go have lunch.”
Lin Ting looked at her stomach and replied, “Yes.”