Later on, she became Ze Ning's personal maid. While Shang Xuan's concerns were certainly a reason for her staying obediently in the Qin Wang's mansion, the more important reason was that she wanted to take care of Ze Ning. She had never felt such an urgent desire to care for someone before—she wanted him to be happy, to have no worries about food and clothing, and to be free from trivial troubles. She wanted him to be healthy and for everything in his life to go smoothly. She worked harder here than she ever had for any young master before—not for any particur reason, truly not for any reason. She had no extravagant expectations. All she wanted was for Ze Ning to be safe, healthy, and at ease at home. That was all she could do, and she would do it with all her might.

  And she needed to learn to read. She could no longer rely on a snail or a leaf to understand Ze Ning's thoughts—she had to learn to read.

  --------

  “Young Master, tea.” Hai Ling carefully brought over a cup of ginseng tea. “The kitchen just heated it. Please be careful; it's hot.” She pced the tea on the table within Ze Ning's reach and id a small embroidered silk cloth over the lid to prevent burns.

  Ze Ning had been reviewing the imperial guards’ roster. When he looked up, he couldn't help but smile slightly. The silk cloth was double-yered and quilted, embroidered with flowers on both sides. The visible side bore the image of a white lotus and the words “peace and safety.” With such a delicate piece beneath the lid, there was no chance of getting burned.

  Hai Ling was meticulous in her thoughts.

  However, did she not know that his martial arts had long reached the level where he was unaffected by heat or cold? How could a mere cup of hot tea possibly harm him?

  Lowering his head, Ze Ning continued reading the roster. His right hand naturally rested on the silk cloth as he lifted the tea lid and took a light sip.

  Hai Ling watched him drink tea, feeling a sense of peace and tranquility in her heart.

  As she saw him concentrate on his reading, she quietly withdrew, trying not to disturb him.

  She left, closing the door behind her. Ze Ning slowly shifted his gaze from the roster, focusing on the direction she had gone, then picked up the small embroidered silk cloth and took a gnce at it. The lotus was exquisitely embroidered, but the characters for “peace” were crooked, somewhat amusing to look at. Was she learning to read?

  He flipped it over to the other side, where there was an embroidered mandarin duck, along with the characters for “auspicious.”

  A mandarin duck? Traditionally, mandarin ducks are always seen in pairs—when have you ever seen a lone mandarin duck?

  -------

  Time passed this way. She devoted herself wholeheartedly to taking care of his daily needs, his food and clothing, and his warmth and comfort. Ze Ning's body temperature was lower than usual, so Hai Ling made sure to add a thin yer of cotton to all his single-yer robes. Ze Ning did not like flowers, but he preferred grass. So, Hai Ling made sure that the windows of his Yaon Pavilion would offer a view of green grass and trees. Occasionally, he would sit by his mother′s earth tomb for a while, and she would help him pnt grass on the grave—she didn′t know why he liked having greenery grow over his mother′s tomb, but she never asked. She simply busied herself with pnting while he sat quietly beside her, watching her work.

  That earth tomb was strange as well; no matter how much grass she pnted, it never thrived—it always looked bare. Hai Ling became accustomed to it. Whenever she had time, she would sit next to the mound, pnting grass seed by seed while silently pondering her thoughts. She no longer found the lonely tomb eerie; instead, she gradually felt the presence of a maternal warmth there and began to understand why Ze Ning liked being there.

  She was learning to read, gradually mastering many characters. Whenever she recognized a word or could write one, she would excitedly show it to Ze Ning. He would smile faintly, neither affirming nor denying. Every time he smiled, she didn't realize that her happiness came more from his smile than from her progress in reading.

  Day after day, little by little, she found herself becoming more attached to Ze Ning's every move. She became increasingly sensitive to his joys and sorrows, her emotions swayed by his moods, her heart weighed down with growing thoughts—until she could no longer deny it—she had fallen in love with Young Master Ze Ning.

  She had fallen in love with Young Master Ze Ning.

  Hai Ling quietly pnted fresh grass over the lonely grave of Ze Ning's mother. The grass she had pnted yesterday had already withered, so she carefully cleared it away and pnted new seeds.

  She had fallen in love with Young Master Ze Ning.

  What should she do? Madam, please tell Hai Ling—what should she do?

  The grave remained silent. So she continued, pnting each bde of grass as if pnting her own emotions, sowing her own foolish longing. Then, she turned to Ze Ning with a bright smile, as if nothing had changed.

  —***—

  “Young Master, I have altered all your robes, yet why are your hands still so cold?” Hai Ling removed Ze Ning's court attire after he had just returned from court. She frowned in concern. “What should I do to make you a little warmer?”

  Ze Ning's hands were always cold. From the day she entered the Qin Wang's mansion until now, that had never changed.

  Ze Ning changed into casual clothes, picked up a brush and paper, and wrote, I am not cold.”

  Hai Ling sighed. “Young Master, you are just used to the cold—it doesn't mean you are not cold. My hands are never like this. All year round, even in winter, my hands are always warm.” She carefully folded Ze Ning's court robe and set it aside. “I should ask the kitchen to prepare some ginger tea—”

  Before she could finish, Ze Ning did not listen to her words. Instead, he reached out his fingers and held her hand.

  His fingers were long and slender, pale and cold.

  Her fingers were delicate, calloused in pces, yet warm.

  Their fingers intertwined, and suddenly, her warmth became even more pronounced, making the chill of Ze Ning's hand even starker in contrast.

  Ze Ning seemed to notice the difference. He looked at her in surprise, as if he had never realized that another person's hands could be this warm. His gaze lingered on her, and he saw the faint blush blooming on her cheeks, the light in her eyes shifting with an indescribable emotion—shyness and joy.

  It was the radiance of a young woman's heart, yet it shone dazzlingly bright.

  Something within him stirred at that moment. Or perhaps something that had long existed within him was finally awakened. Ze Ning tightened his grip on her hand.

  That firm grasp jolted Hai Ling out of her dazed mixture of delight and embarrassment. Startled, she quickly pulled her hand away. Her heart pounded wildly as she stammered, “Young Master—” Her face was filled with arm. “I will go prepare the ginger tea for you.” She blurted the words out and hurriedly retreated from Ze Ning's room.

  She left so quickly that it was almost an escape.

  Ze Ning watched her escape, and a faint smile unconsciously appeared on his face.

  Since when had this unremarkable girl so deeply invaded his life, invaded everything about him?

  No one had ever cared whether his hands were cold or warm. Even he had never realized how different he was from normal people—

  "Young Master, you are just used to the cold, not that you aren't cold."

  That was what she had said. Yet he had never known that he had always been cold. He had never known that another person's hands could be warm.

  Warmth—what did it feel like?

  Was it like Hai Ling? Like the feeling he had when watching her busily reading, embroidering, cleaning, or even pnting grass on his mother's lonely grave? That calm, peaceful feeling?

  A feeling that rose from the depths of his heart—a gentle feeling—one he had forgotten for so, so long.