Chapter Twelve: Exposed?

“Ahem… it’s Liang…”
“Yes… it’s mother.”
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The atmosphere was awkward and subtly tense.

Zhang Shiping gestured for Zhang Yu to sit, then addressed Liu Liang, “My son has been frail since childhood, and he was caught in the rain just now. That’s why he was congested and couldn’t enunciate your esteemed name properly. I hope you’ll forgive him.”

Liu Liang replied, “It’s nothing. If it weren’t for Young Master Yu’s timely intervention today, saving me from danger, I doubt I’d be sitting here before you now. Truly, it is I who owe your son my thanks.” With that, he inclined his head toward Zhang Yu, expressing his gratitude.

“Yu’er, since you’ve already met the teacher, you may go and rest. Bathe in hot water, change into dry clothes, and lie down for a while. You can skip the afternoon training today,” Zhang Shiping said, revealing once again his gentle paternal side. Without further concern for formality or whether Liu Liang had more to say, he sent the ailing Zhang Yu off to rest.

Liu Liang, a man of discernment, took no offense. Stroking his goatee, he smiled quietly as he watched Zhang Yu.

“Then I’ll take my leave. Teacher, please excuse me,” said Zhang Yu.

Leaving the main hall, he found a maid waiting with a paper umbrella. Shielded from the drizzle, he returned to his bedroom. Just as he was about to call for someone, he noticed Han Yan and Ying’er had already prepared the bath. The wooden tub was filled with steaming water, scattered with fragrant rose petals floating on the surface.

“Ah, bliss!”

Shedding his damp clothes, Zhang Yu leapt into the tub, performing a playful “dragon gliding in shallow waters.” His body and long hair were soon soaked, a few pink petals clinging fragrantly to his glossy black locks, making for a charming sight.

Completely relaxed, Zhang Yu was enjoying himself when he heard the light approach of footsteps. Leaning against the rim of the tub, he looked back to see Ying’er leading a blushing Han Yan into the room, both approaching with mischievous smiles.

“You! What are you doing?” Zhang Yu exclaimed, quickly crouching in the water. The bath was so clear, nothing was concealed—he was suddenly quite flustered.

Ying’er strode up, picked up his wet clothes, and cast Zhang Yu a sidelong glance full of disdain—yes, pure disdain. “Young Master, I’ve been responsible for your baths and changing since you were eight. Even though I’m younger than you, I practically raised you. There’s nothing I haven’t seen. When you were innocent, you never cared about these things. Now that you understand propriety, why so shy? As for Yan, she’s new here, but it’s clear you like her. If you always keep her at a distance, how can she ever be close to you? That’s not how you should treat someone dear.”

What on earth… Zhang Yu’s mind spun.

“Watching me grow up… grow up in what way? You’d better make yourself clear—don’t tarnish my good name! Wasn’t my lack of reserve in the past a virtue? Why does it sound like I was some kind of playboy? Wait, wasn’t I the one being taken advantage of here? Did you see everything before I came to this world? But I suppose it makes sense… Before I arrived, your young master was a simpleton—you probably had to bathe him yourself…”

At the thought, Zhang Yu felt a chill below, as if a cold wind had passed.

“But if I don’t let Han Yan help, how is that bullying her? Am I supposed to—what—have my way with you both right here and now? Nonsense! Even I can’t say such shameless things…”

“Yan’er, the young master is speechless. Don’t mind him. I’m in charge here!” Ying’er declared, turning and leaving with his clothes, whispering something in Han Yan’s ear that made the girl blush even deeper.

“Yan…”
“Ah…”
“So… what are you doing?”
“I…”

Seeing her flustered and adorable, Zhang Yu found it amusing, but recalling his current “precarious” state—like a dragon in shallow waters tormented by shrimps—he chose not to tease her further.

“Listen to me—”
“Don’t speak, Young Master!” Han Yan suddenly interrupted, hastily pulling out two cotton balls from beneath her sash and stuffing them firmly into her ears.

“Now I’m not being disobedient…” she muttered.

“Whoa, that’s ruthless!” Zhang Yu was taken aback as Han Yan approached the tub step by step, and he quickly turned his body away.

Just then, Han Yan’s gentle voice came: “Please wait, Young Master, I’m here to attend you…” Delicate hands reached into the water before him. Zhang Yu shielded his dignity with both hands, glancing up to see Han Yan with her eyes closed, swirling her hands in the water.

“Is she serving me, or just the bath? Or is she just washing her hands?” Zhang Yu silently complained, but didn’t dare make a sound, lest he startle her into opening her eyes.

After a moment, Han Yan withdrew her hands, then moved behind him and gently placed her now-warm palms on his back. Her slender fingers began to knead and tap across his smooth, mirror-like skin. Zhang Yu was surprised—how could a girl of eight or nine be so skilled? Were people in ancient times always this precocious?

“Ying’er taught me,” Han Yan said softly. “She said when you weren’t yourself, you loved it when she massaged your back…”

Wait—

“How did she know I liked it when I wasn’t myself? This is such an obvious plot hole, I don’t even want to complain… But it feels so good… just keep going…”

Still in the Zhang manor, in the receiving hall—

“Since you’ve met my son, would you share any doubts you harbor?” Zhang Shiping asked.

“Do you recall the assessment I gave your son more than ten years ago?” Liu Liang said.

“I do,” Zhang Shiping replied. “You looked at his features and said, ‘A face like pearl and jade: wealth, but not nobility. A body long plagued by illness, with chronic ailments to follow.’ And so it has come to pass; your reputation for physiognomy is well deserved.”

A trace of gloom crossed Zhang Shiping’s face, but recalling Zhang Yu’s remarkable recovery, his eyes brightened once more.

Liu Liang sighed, stroking his beard. “At the time, there were two more things I did not say. First, your son bore the mark of early death—his blessings were thin, and his life short.”

“Sir, mind your words!” Zhang Shiping glared at him.

“Please, be at ease,” Liu Liang said. “If that were still true, I wouldn’t be here today. It was the chance encounter with your son this morning that stirred my heart. Now, though his features show lingering illness, there is no grave danger. Indeed, I see the signs of great fortune and nobility—congratulations are in order!”

Zhang Shiping’s expression softened. Liu Liang stood and continued, “The second matter is this: your son’s fate is weak, but he is destined for a companion of extraordinary fortune—a phoenix among women, beyond the reach of ordinary men. Such a pairing of low and high means a life of many twists and turns. Yet now, his destined companion’s fortune matches his own—a most auspicious sign.”

With those words, Liu Liang moved toward the door. Zhang Shiping was skeptical of his mystical pronouncements, but as they concerned praise for his child, that was enough.

“And how would you assess my son’s fortune today?” Zhang Shiping asked.

“A true master of physiognomy would not speak further, but today I’ll make an exception. His features are remarkable—save for what I’ve mentioned, the rest is shrouded in mystery, his destiny unreadable. If I must describe it—”

“Yes?”

“It is the mark of one who defies fate itself.”