Chapter 18

Qi Yunmiao did not know why Pei Ze had suddenly moved back home. She wondered if it was because the Imperial Academy was about to break for the holidays, or perhaps he was feeling homesick. Surely it wasn't because he had suddenly decided he needed to take care of her, right? She naturally assumed Pei Ze’s return home had little to do with her, so although surprised, she did not dwell on the matter.

That night after dinner, Qi Yunmiao focused solely on her studies, counting on her fingers how long it would be before the holiday break. The first snow had fallen on the outskirts of the capital two days ago, and after returning to the academy yesterday, the students began to whisper that the school would soon adjourn for the season. Traditionally, the Song family’s academy granted a two-month break around the time of the first snow in the capital, with classes resuming only after the arrival of spring.

Qi Yunmiao had never experienced such a long holiday at the Song family school and was filled with eager anticipation upon hearing this news from her friends. Nearly a month of martial training had invigorated her endlessly, and though waking early for school was no longer difficult, studying remained a challenge. She had been attending the Song family academy for several months and had only just managed to keep pace with her peers, learning some of the classical texts. But that did not mean she had grown fond of studying.

She longed for days of sleeping in, days without the burden of books. As she wished, less than three days later, the academy officially announced that after the twenty-second day of the tenth lunar month, classes would conclude for the year.

Qi Yunmiao nearly jumped for joy.

However, while the instructor announced the holiday, he also assigned a task: during the break, each student was to complete and submit a calligraphy or painting piece themed on winter. It could be a copy of a famous work, or an original poem or painting. Everyone would need to bring their work back in spring to resume classes.

Qi Yunmiao’s handwriting was barely legible—just slightly better than a dog’s scrawl—so she had no thought of bringing a calligraphy copy, nor did she favor poetry. Ultimately, she chose to create a painting.

But she had seen very few paintings in her life. Now that school was out, she pondered at home for several days, unable to decide how to begin.

When Madam Fang noticed her dilemma, she suggested, “Master and Young Master’s study has many paintings. Miss, why not wait until Young Master returns this afternoon and ask to borrow some to look at?”

“Hmm…” That meant she would have to see Pei Ze again.

After a moment’s hesitation, Qi Yunmiao nodded and accepted Madam Fang’s suggestion. With no other help available—her mother and Pei Xun had been away from the capital for over half a month, with no clear return date—asking Pei Ze was her only option.

Madam Fang prepared some pastries for her to offer Pei Ze when he came home. Since the holiday began, Qi Yunmiao practiced martial arts in the mornings, leaving her afternoons leisurely free.

That afternoon, she sat in the front hall, pastries in hand, waiting for Pei Ze. Although school was on break, it seemed the Imperial Academy where Pei Ze studied had not yet adjourned. She had never encountered Pei Ze at home during the day, only occasionally crossing paths with him while going to or from school.

She dangled her feet, waiting patiently until a figure dressed in blue appeared at the doorway. Qi Yunmiao quickly jumped down from her chair and stood facing him.

“Brother!” she greeted politely.

Pei Ze heard someone call his name as he entered and paused at the door, spotting Qi Yunmiao.

“Hmm.” He approached and asked, “Did you need something?”

Qi Yunmiao promptly presented the pastries Madam Fang had made, offering them to Pei Ze with a pleased smile.

“Brother, the academy master assigned us homework—to create a winter-themed painting. I haven’t seen many winter paintings. Could you lend me a few to look at?” she asked.

Pei Ze glanced at the pastries: chestnut cake, mare’s milk cake, persimmon cake, osmanthus pastry—all perfectly suited to his tastes. It was clear Madam Fang had prepared them.

He didn’t eat the offerings but instead asked, “Have you decided what you want to paint about winter?”

Qi Yunmiao shook her head, having no ideas.

Pei Ze said, “Then what good is looking at others’ paintings? Just to borrow their inspiration?”

Qi Yunmiao was momentarily at a loss for words, surprised by his question.

“I just want to see what others paint about winter so I can know what I might paint myself,” she explained.

“Winter lotus ponds, withered trees, snowy scenes—you’ve seen all of those. What’s forbidden to paint?”

“I…” she faltered, “I just want to see how others paint them!”

Pei Ze’s lips curled into a faint smile, as if he understood her weak excuse.

He had long seen that Qi Yunmiao disliked studying. Her poor handwriting bore no resemblance to her mother’s. Once, during a visit to the Song family’s academy, he had glimpsed her homework and frowned deeply over it. Yet he was not one to meddle in his stepsister’s studies, so he kept this knowledge to himself.

His questions were more instinctive than deliberate.

“Fine, if you want to look, you may,” he said. “But don’t mess around once you’re in the study.”

Qi Yunmiao nodded eagerly.

—

Finally, Qi Yunmiao found herself back in Pei Ze’s study. She placed Madam Fang’s pastries on his desk and followed closely as he led her to a cabinet filled with books and paintings.

The upper shelves displayed ancient texts—histories and masterworks she had seen before, still dazzling her eyes. Fortunately, she came only for paintings today.

Pei Ze’s paintings occupied several lower compartments. Qi Yunmiao could not quite discern any order in the characters and images, but to Pei Ze, every piece was marked. He stood before the cabinet, casually withdrawing a dozen or so scrolls and spreading them before her—each depicting winter scenes she longed to see.

Qi Yunmiao admired them in awe.

One by one, she studied the paintings and finally understood how others created winter art. Some depicted withered trees by ponds, snowy scenes of lakeside pavilions, desolate mountains where birds had vanished and human tracks disappeared, and various travelers braving wind and snow, bent but resolute.

With each painting, Qi Yunmiao became more enchanted.

When she reached the last scroll, she clutched it tightly, utterly captivated.

It was a painting of a wandering knight traversing the vast world.

The background was a boundless snowstorm, the earth blanketed in white. Aside from a few barren trees, nothing remained.

The knight’s figure moved through the snow, appearing so small and insignificant against the vastness. But upon closer look, he was taller and sturdier than some of the withered trees.

Though Qi Yunmiao did not understand perspectives or sketching techniques, she could grasp the spirit conveyed in the painting.

She stared deeply at the scroll and, for a moment, thought of her father.

The figure walking against the snowstorm resembled her father too much.

She would never forget that day she saw her father off, under similar skies.

That snowy day, she thought he was merely leaving for a while, as he had before, and would soon return.

But he never came back.

The man who walked against the wind and snow vanished into the blizzard, leaving behind only scattered bones.

Suddenly, a tear slipped from Qi Yunmiao’s eye, falling onto Pei Ze’s scroll.

Hearing the sound, Pei Ze quickly reached out to snatch the scroll away.

He instinctively frowned and scolded, “You—”

But when he looked down and saw Qi Yunmiao’s tears, his voice softened, fading into the faint scent of lavender in the study.

He studied her quietly, then glanced hesitantly at the painting she had just held.

“Brother…” Qi Yunmiao wiped her tears, seeming aware she had caused trouble.

“I… I’m sorry… I couldn’t hold back…”

She lifted her youthful face, attempting to wipe away the tears, but for some reason, they only flowed more freely.

She frantically clawed at her cheeks with both hands but could not stop the relentless descent of her tears.

Pei Ze watched her flustered struggle, sighed softly, set the scroll aside, and said, “It’s alright. You’re lucky—it’s not a very expensive painting.”

“Really?” Qi Yunmiao asked between sobs.

Of course not, Pei Ze thought coldly.

This was a genuine work by a reclusive poet-painter of the previous dynasty, which he had just commissioned days ago at great expense.

Now, with a single tear on it, the scroll’s value was effectively halved.

But seeing the little girl’s tear-streaked, confused face, could he really make her pay?

“Yeah,” he said calmly.

Qi Yunmiao relaxed somewhat and continued to wipe her tears, trying to stop herself from crying more.

Pei Ze watched her lower head and wondered why this painting had made her so emotional. Was it because it reminded her of her father?

Right—Qi Yunmiao’s father had died last winter.

Pei Ze looked down at the painting again for a moment.

Finally, he placed his hand over the tear stain and gently wiped it dry before rolling the scroll back up.

Qi Yunmiao’s eyes were still wet as she continued dabbing at her tears.

The study felt stuffy; her flushed face had no way to vent.

Pei Ze stored away his paintings and then asked, “After looking at all those scrolls, have you decided what you want to paint?”

Qi Yunmiao hesitated and shook her head.

Upon seeing that last painting, she had forgotten everything she had seen or thought.

Pei Ze was not surprised.

He asked, “I’m going boating later at the lake pavilion with some people. Want to come?”

“Boating?” Qi Yunmiao blinked, puzzled since the sun was about to set. What was the point of boating then?

Yet she did want to go out for a walk.

Before leaving, her mother had told her not to go out alone. Since the holiday started, except for one visit to the Song estate, she had not left home.

Her bright eyes looked up at Pei Ze, and after a moment, she nodded honestly.