As he lit the incense, he said:
“It always happens between spring and summer—an old ailment. You know that.”
A pleasant fragrance wafted through the air.
Su Lingxi’s spirit lifted.
Her body, as if guided by instinct, relaxed into a more comfortable posture.
Her shoulders loosened slightly, the tight lines of her frame slackened, and her guarded demeanor eased.
“You came into the palace this late, and even came here—something happen?”
Zhang Jinzhī looked up as he lit the last stick of incense.
The flickering firelight cast a warm orange glow in the inner hall, illuminating Zhang Jinzhī’s face.
He was not weak in build and had a dignified presence, dressed with elegance.
Because the root of his illness wasn’t in his appearance, he didn’t look frail.
His features were steady and reliable, and when he looked at Su Lingxi, it was with a tolerant fondness, like one might show a child.
“It’s not a matter. Just a person.”
Su Lingxi looked down and fiddled with the silver bell at her waist.
The bell was silent no matter how she turned it, as if it had lost its voice.
Only the tassels swayed, giving it some dignity.
“The bell rang.”
Zhang Jinzhī thought for a long while before speaking a name:
“Ye Zhuxu?”
The time had passed so long ago he wasn’t sure, and so his voice carried a note of questioning.
Su Lingxi reluctantly responded with a hum.
She opened her mouth, thought of Ye Zhuxu—his gloomy temperament—and was both stifled and incredulous.
“I don’t think I should like him. He’s not my type.”
Zhang Jinzhī smiled, “Then what is your type?”
“Obedient, sensible, smart, gentle temperament, doesn’t drag me down.”
Su Lingxi rubbed her nose and added without hesitation, “Good-looking.”
Except for the last point, Ye Zhuxu didn’t match a single one.
“The young men the ministers keep sending your way are all like that,” Zhang Jinzhī said gently.
“Still young.”
“Why don’t you like any of them?”
Su Lingxi pressed her lips together and lowered her eyes in annoyance.
Even Zhang Jinzhī hadn’t seen her this conflicted in a long time.
One cannot rise through the ranks by stepping over the doubts of the ministers without true capability.
And once on that path, the rash, imperfect, and immature parts of one’s character are smoothed away by the torrent of responsibility.
This was unavoidable—and a good thing for Su Lingxi.
She put the bell away, letting the decorations at her waist naturally cover the small sphere.
“I just wanted to ask… did I really like him back then?”
Zhang Jinzhī replied, “Of course.”
He paused, looked at her, and asked,
“You suddenly asking this—are you planning to make a move on him?”
“Mm.”
Hearing this, Su Lingxi subconsciously pinched her fingers.
She then calmly stared at the table, not asking what had happened between them, nor why it had come to this.
First, Zhang Jinzhī wouldn’t remember.
His head was filled with thoughts of his wife, Yu Chu, whom he married fifteen years ago.
Second, there was no need. Knowing too much would become a burden.
And she could not resolve the knot between her and Ye Zhuxu under her current identity.
“I wanted to talk to him properly.”
Su Lingxi corrected herself,
“I did talk to him properly. But he’s too arrogant and overbearing.”
“If the soft approach doesn’t work, we’ll try going head-to-head.”
At this, Zhang Jinzhī chuckled and said nothing further.
Once Su Lingxi made a decision, no one could dissuade her.
“There’s one more thing.”
Su Lingxi lifted her chin slightly, looking at the flickering candlewick.
“These days, Floating Jade is likely to start watching you.”
“I guessed as much the moment your messenger arrived.”
He hadn’t expected her to ask about someone else first.
Zhang Jinzhī furrowed his brows slightly, a flood of memories flickering across his mind.
After a while, he exhaled slowly and asked softly,
“So soon?”
“How is that soon?”
Su Lingxi rolled her eyes, took a whiff of the incense, and spoke lazily:
“They should’ve thought of you the first day they hit a wall with me. But instead, they’ve been circling around Xiliu and Danyuan for days. Really, not the brightest bunch.”
Zhang Jinzhī only smiled and didn’t respond.
“You know what to do.”
Seeing the time, Su Lingxi braced an elbow on the table and stood up, seemingly ready to leave.
Before she left, she reminded him:
“They’ll try to play the emotional card. Don’t fall for it.”
Zhang Jinzhī walked a few steps and called after her:
“You came all this way—leaving already? Want to stay for a cup of tea?”
“No. Too many variables on me lately—I’d ruin things.”
Su Lingxi started to leave, then paused, lifted the curtain again, and walked back to him.
Frowning slightly, she said in a low voice:
“I won’t be available for a while. Spend more effort teaching Her Majesty. She’s soft-hearted, easily swayed by nonsense. The world is in chaos from demonic disturbances. We can’t afford more drama in the palace.”
“Alright.”
“And that matter about choosing suitable young men to accompany Her Majesty—bring it up with her too.”
Zhang Jinzhī thought for a while, glanced at her expression, and chose his words carefully.
He casually picked up a scroll nearby and said gently:
“Her Majesty isn’t in a hurry. She says state affairs come first. Besides, she’s still young. I don’t think there’s any rush.”
He added, “A woman choosing a husband—no matter the number—requires careful thought.
Just look at the last one. How troublesome that turned out.”
“Young? Her Majesty is twenty-nine this year. Do you want her to be like you—waiting till a hundred before considering it?”
Su Lingxi snorted, mercilessly poking at his sore spot.
Zhang Jinzhī gave up, spreading his hands to reason with her:
“Such matters—how could I, an outside official, bring them up with Her Majesty? And you, what age are you now? How long have you been alone? Aren’t you worried at all…?If Her Majesty brings you up as an example, what should I say?”
Su Lingxi’s expression darkened.
She thought she had already been punished by having her past memories wiped clean—but Xue Huai…
Su Lingxi looked at her palm; there still seemed to be a trace of coldness lingering there.
She spoke slowly, “I know. You’ve said it many times.”
She wanted to say, but it really has been a long time.
He remembered, but perhaps the one who married him had already forgotten.
In the end, she didn’t say it. Anyone could say such things—but not her.
She was the one who had forgotten.
Zhang Jinzhi couldn’t help but say softly, “And in the end, we will all—”
“Enough, Zhang Jinzhi.”
Su Lingxi cut him off directly.
Her voice was cold, and her expression colder still. Her eyes looked like they were frozen.
“I’ve already tried very hard. There’s really no point in you saying such things again.”
She turned to leave.
Zhang Jinzhi gave a helpless hey and followed her a few steps.
His voice drifted into Su Lingxi’s ears along with the sound of the door closing: “Lingxi… even if someone forgets and hurts the person they love, they’ll still feel pain themselves.”
Before the night wind could blow in, the palace doors were tightly shut by the swift and skilled attendants.
Seeing Su Lingxi emerge from the hall, Xiliu hurried over to greet her.
She called out “My lady,” and got a distracted “Mm” in return.
Sensing that her mistress was likely in a foul mood, she sighed inwardly, wondering if she’d had another fierce argument with Lord Zhang.
Lights were already lit all across the palace. Su Lingxi walked along a narrow path by the palace walls, then ascended to a tall pavilion.
From there, one could overlook most of the ward market and the Imperial City.
The sky was a grim, menacing shade of dark blue—neither fully night nor fully light.
After a moment, Su Lingxi removed the token from her waist and tossed it to Xiliu, coldly giving the order:
“Have them prepare in advance. Open the Forbidden Temple and clear it out.”
Xiliu was briefly stunned.
The Forbidden Temple had been arranged personally by her mistress after leaving Floating Jade.
It was specifically meant to deal with those from Floating Jade.
After this recent period of cooperation with the Northern Court, Xiliu had thought it would never need to be used again.
Xiliu lowered her voice and asked cautiously, “My lady… are we really going to use the Forbidden Temple?”
Su Lingxi replied indifferently, “It was prepared for a reason. There’s no point in keeping it if we don’t use it.”
She didn’t explain more, nor did she seem to be in the mood.
Her figure, wrapped in palace robes, quickly disappeared into the dim corridor of the pavilion.
Xiliu stood there holding the waist token, her fingers tightening around it slightly.
She looked toward the direction Su Lingxi had gone, worry evident in her eyes.
The Forbidden Temple.
Back then, when Su Lingxi returned alone from Floating Jade and entered the imperial court, she had secretly established it on the outskirts of the palace.
No one had dared question it.
Only Xiliu, as her most trusted attendant, knew what was inside—that cold and desolate place sealed with talismans and bound by spiritual formations, constructed from fear, foresight, and deep-seated pain.
If Su Lingxi was reopening it now…
What was she planning?