Lena Sanders sat idly beneath the veranda for a while before rising, stepping out through the courtyard gate, and strolling aimlessly down the lane.
She wandered from the quiet alley into the bustling marketplace, her eyes drifting over the stalls and shops without truly seeing any of them. As she walked, a large carriage rolled up beside her. Its curtain was lifted high, and from within leaned Paul Denton—the seventh young master of the Pan Chancellor's household—half his body hanging out as he waved eagerly and called, "Hey! Hey, you there!"
Lena's brows arched in surprise. Paul Denton waved even harder. "Yes, you—the young lady there! I've been calling you for ages. Come over! I've something to say to you."
Lena feigned a startled look and took two cautious steps forward.
"Don't be afraid," Paul said cheerfully. "My surname's Pan, seventh son of Chancellor Pan. Everyone in Castleton knows me—you can just call me Seventh Young Master. So then, what's your name? What's your family name?" He gestured for her to come closer, grinning from ear to ear.
Lena pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile, and edged nearer.
Of course she knew who he was—the seventh son of the Chancellor's household—but what did he want with her? From the sound of it, he wasn't quite sure whether he knew her or not.
"Don't be shy," Paul continued, his tone affable. "Tell me—what's your name? Why are you out here alone?"
"And why do you ask?" Lena tilted her head, pretending fear. "Have you taken a fancy to me?"
Paul sputtered, caught between laughter and coughing. "You're a funny one! No, no, nothing like that. Don't get the wrong idea.
We've met before, remember? The fourth day of the new year, at Liu Pavilion—ring a bell?"
Lena gave him a sidelong glance, looking as though she half recalled, half didn't.
"Well, no wonder—you only had eyes for Lord Shen that day. I was with him, you see. Tell me, how did you two meet? Does he treat you well?"
Paul's face shone with nosy delight.
Lena nearly lost control of her expression, forcing her features rigid and glaring at him sidelong.
Was this man an idiot?
"Come now, don't be so guarded," he pressed on eagerly. "Shen Dalang and I grew up together, thick as thieves. He tells me everything. How did you two meet? Oh, and your surname—what is it again? Who's in your household? That fellow with you last time at Liu Pavilion—your brother? You don't look alike. How did you and Shen Dalang get acquainted? Did you two… you know…"
Paul waggled his brows meaningfully, both thumbs bobbing toward each other in lewd suggestion.
Lena inhaled slowly, suppressing the urge to plant her fist in his face. "You say he tells you everything, yet you don't even know how we met?"
Paul burst out laughing. "You're a sharp one! Quick with words, too. I was testing you—asked him, but he wouldn't say.
Back on the fourth, he looked rather cross. Had you two quarreled?"
Lena pressed her palm to her forehead.
Truly, this was an unlucky day—first harassed by that scoundrel lizheng, and now accosted by a fool.
"I heard you were thrown into prison over the Prince Heir's assassination attempt," Lena said suddenly, leaning closer. "When did they let you out?"
Paul's eyes bulged wide.
"You were the deputy envoy, weren't you? Left the wounded Prince Heir behind in Riverford City, then sailed off at your leisure. Wasn't that deliberate? It must've been—you just said you were close to Shen Mingshu since childhood!"
Lena took another step forward, nearly nose to nose with him.
Paul recoiled, stammering, "Y-you! Who are you—what—"
"I'm the one who brought the Prince Heir safely back to Castleton. Haven't you heard?" Lena stepped back with a bright smile, clapping her hands lightly.
Paul gaped at her, speechless. "You! You're… the Night Fragrance?"
"That's right," she replied sweetly. "Didn't expect that, did you?" She lifted her arm, sniffed theatrically, and thrust it toward him. "Go on—take a whiff."
Paul inhaled reflexively, then exhaled sharply, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You're a woman? But then—what's your surname?"
"You claim to know me, yet not my name? Or have you forgotten?" Lena folded her arms, watching him wipe his brow again and again.
"Nobody told me! How could I know? Master Shouzhen only mentioned the Night Fragrance affair. You know martial arts? What kind?" Paul's curiosity pivoted instantly.
"I don't know martial arts," Lena said evenly. "I know how to kill." Her eyes flicked to the spot just below his throat.
"Ah," Paul said, leaning further out of the carriage. "Then you're the Prince Heir's savior!"
"Not quite. He paid silver, and we escorted him. Have you ever heard of a bodyguard being called a benefactor?" Lena eyed him up and down.
This fool was a special kind of stupid.
"Fair point," Paul chuckled. "You've a clever tongue. But come now—what's your surname?"
"Li. Lena Sanders Li. 'Graceful the mulberry beneath which the noble one rests.'"
"What a lovely name! So you escorted the Prince Heir from Riverford City all the way to Castleton? Together the whole journey?" Paul's curiosity flared again, brighter than before.
"Mmm," Lena replied languidly. "One small boat. Sometimes, even the same bed."
Paul burst into gleeful laughter. "You're a delight! You mean—truly the same bed?" He waggled his brows and thumbs again.
Lena rolled her eyes heavenward.
"All right, all right, don't be angry! I was only teasing. Can't imagine it though—the Prince Heir's a fastidious man.
If there were really something between you, he'd never let you drift about alone. And his rear courtyard's quite empty, you know.
What are you doing these days anyway? Just wandering about? You must've made a tidy sum from that escort job."
Lena clenched her jaw, tempted once more to throttle him.
"And you?" she countered. "Spend your days roaming the streets, stopping random women to chatter nonsense?"
"Now that's unfair! I didn't stop you because of your looks," Paul protested. "Didn't I say? I thought you and Shen Dalang… well, you know. He wouldn't say a word, so of course I had to ask you! Perfectly natural curiosity!"
His indignation was almost touching.
Lena pressed her hand to her forehead again.
"I'll have you know I'm a man of office—fifth rank, attached to the Ministry of Works," Paul announced proudly, chin lifted. "No official post just now, but I'm on duty, heading to Wangjiang Post Station to inspect a construction site. They're replacing a main beam—I need to take a look."
Lena gave him a sidelong glance. A minor official, but perhaps one who knew a thing or two about household registrations. She might as well make use of this encounter.
"Tell me, Fifth-Rank Official," she said, "do you know how one registers a female head of household in Castleton?"
"How would I know? That's the Ministry of Households' business! I'm with Works.
You want to register as a female head? No need to ask—just go do it.
Oh, wait—someone mentioned once that women's households are tax-exempt. Maybe that's why it's tricky.
No matter—it's a small thing. Take my calling card, go to the prefecture, and tell them I sent you. They'll handle it."
With effortless enthusiasm, he took a card from his servant and handed it to her.
Lena accepted it, eyebrows arching high.
To have such a son, Chancellor Pan must indeed lead a difficult life.