116. Let me lean on you for a while.

In the modest flower hall, the two walls on either side were adorned with ink-brushed semi-cursive calligraphy paintings, their strokes fluid yet resolute, revealing the writer’s lofty state of mind and impeccable virtue.

Gu Fei held a tea cup delicately, her pinky raised as she twisted open the lid. The gentle clink of the tea foam lightly breaking the surface sounded crisp and clear.

At the hall’s entrance, only a maid waited. Since Gu Fei had entered with the old steward half an hour ago, not a single member of the Feng family had appeared.

Nightingale glanced at the darkening sky outside, then stepped forward slightly, leaning close to Gu Fei’s ear in a whisper, “Miss, the Feng family clearly does not wish to see you. Perhaps you should return for now and come again another day.”

Gu Fei knew well the Fengs were deliberately avoiding her, but she had come today primarily to see Feng Lizhi, and she would not abandon her purpose over such obstacles.

She also understood Feng Puyu’s reasons for refusing to meet her. After all, the Feng family had fallen to this state largely because she had drawn the ire of Mo Geyi. The coveted “Ever-changing Willow Whip” technique was only the secondary cause; otherwise, Mo Geyi would have found other means to negotiate.

Feng Puyu, as head of the Feng lineage, still commanded respect. Even though Feng Lizhi’s skills were lacking, the Feng family had members present, giving Mo Geyi reason to hold back. At worst, Feng Puyu could yield and accept becoming the Ink Master for the Imperial Mo Family—a prospect Mo Geyi would surely favor.

Thus, the Feng family need not have been driven to ruin.

Gu Fei closed her eyes halfway and continued to wait.

Another hour passed, and a distant sigh came from the hallway doorway.

Suddenly, Gu Fei opened her eyes to see the small-statured, silver-bearded Feng Puyu standing there. He looked at her, helpless yet smiling bitterly. “Miss Gu, why go through all this trouble?”

He stepped inside, his body stooped. Gu Fei suddenly realized that in just a few days, the once vigorous elder had aged significantly. The passage of time weighed heavily and painfully upon him.

“Elder Feng…” Gu Fei began, but her words faltered.

Feng Puyu waved his hand, then sat down in the main seat, smoothing his slightly creased sleeve trim with a troubled expression. “Miss Gu, please leave. Don’t come again. To speak frankly, Lizhi’s greatest mistake was ever meeting you.”

Gu Fei remained silent. The fact that Feng Puyu could still speak so calmly showed her that this man was truly a refined and wise gentleman.

“Lizhi will be fine. As a Feng man, even if he lives a life of hardship, his innate pride will never be extinguished.” His voice carried a towering dignity, and for a moment, his frail frame seemed to swell with the strength of a giant.

Gu Fei’s eyes brightened slightly. Now she understood the source of Feng Lizhi’s haughty nature, his disdain for worldly defilement.

He was still young and sharp, while Feng Puyu had long mastered a serene simplicity, usually unnoticed by others.

She smiled softly. “I believe that. But Elder Feng, I still wish to see Lizhi.”

Her gaze was unwavering, firm in her resolve.

Feng Puyu sighed deeply once more, seeming to age yet another few years. “If you wish to see him, then come.”

Gu Fei noticed Feng Puyu’s transformation and grew concerned. If it were only the peril of the family’s decline, he would not be so deeply troubled. The real problem must lie with Feng Lizhi’s condition, hence his anxiety.

They crossed the courtyard, passed through the moon gate, and stopped at the northern wing of the Feng estate.

A young servant stood guard outside the room. Gu Fei’s sharp eyes recognized him as one who usually accompanied Feng Lizhi.

“Master,” the servant wore a sullen expression, on the verge of tears. “The young master still refuses to eat, only asking for wine.”

Feng Puyu nodded and waved the boy away, then turned to Gu Fei. “Have you seen it?”

Gu Fei frowned, staring at the tightly shut door. “Has Lizhi been like this since that day?”

Feng Puyu nodded again, sitting casually by the corridor railing. His exhaustion was now laid bare, mingled with disappointment. “At first, there were sounds from within—he seemed possessed, endlessly grinding ink. Then he threw all his ink-making tools out and started demanding only wine.”

Gu Fei’s frown deepened. In her memory, Feng Lizhi was not someone who broke under failure. During their first encounter, she had deliberately provoked him and belittled his ink pellets, yet he had taken it graciously, harboring no grudge.

This time, Mo Geyi’s blow was twofold: not only was Feng Lizhi outmatched in ink-making skill, but he also faced the condition of never making ink again.

Gu Fei could only think the latter was absurd, something Mo Geyi spat out with no intention of being taken seriously.

“Is it because of Mo Geyi’s words that Lizhi is like this?” She pondered, convinced the problem lay there.

Feng Puyu looked at the door, the strong scent of wine drifting out. He felt a mixture of frustration and pity. “Yes. The Feng family is bound by their word. Since he lost the ink duel and the opponent made conditions, they must be honored. Lizhi can no longer make ink publicly. At most, as he did the other day, he may lock himself away and handle it alone, but never in front of others, nor can he distribute the ink pellets he makes.”

Gu Fei was shocked and disagreed fiercely, her voice rising slightly. “How can it be! Mo Geyi is a despicable scoundrel. Elder Feng, you must not honor such a pact. Besides, the Feng family’s legacy is passed down through the line—if Lizhi stops making ink, won’t the family’s craft be lost forever?”

Feng Puyu smiled wryly. “What choice do we have? I fear I won’t live to see Lizhi’s children. Otherwise, I might have taught my great-grandchildren a few years.”

Gu Fei was speechless. She wanted to laugh but felt an urge to curse the heavens. What kind of world was this, where the heavens show no mercy and all beings are but grass and dogs? A man of virtue and dignity like Feng Puyu driven to such a state—yet he still upheld the gentleman’s conduct. How could he be compared to a shameless rogue like Mo Geyi?

She had never claimed to be a good person herself but admired sages like Feng Puyu. She might never become such an upright gentleman but would never scheme against the virtuous.

Such people deserved only respect.

“Elder Feng, it’s not worth it, not worth it at all,” she said, unable to hold back.

Feng Puyu laughed, the lines beneath his silver beard lifting warmly. “Child, to uphold virtue and principle is what a gentleman must do. There is no measure of worthiness in that.”

Gu Fei was stunned. “But—”

“No buts.” He cut her off, then took a few steps forward and pushed open Feng Lizhi’s door. Turning his back to her, he said, “If you want to see him, then go ahead. Honestly, even if he can’t make ink anymore, I don’t want him to wither away. He should get married soon and continue the Feng line—that would be good.”

Gu Fei did not ask Nightingale to push her in. Once she crossed the threshold, the dim light inside made her eyes momentarily darken. The door creaked as Feng Puyu gently closed it behind her.

She stayed still for a long while, the heavy scent of alcohol nearly overwhelming. For someone with a keen sense of smell, it was almost suffocating.

But Gu Fei only furrowed her brow slightly and ignored it. After her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she carefully maneuvered her wheelchair around the scattered tables, chairs, and wine vessels.

Numerous wine pots lay strewn about. Each time she neared one, she bent to pick it up and placed it on the table, even setting a fallen screen upright.

Her mobility was limited and strength slight; she nearly toppled when the screen shifted, but she caught herself on the wheelchair’s armrest just in time.

Once the room was tidied, she moved further inside.

At first glance, Feng Lizhi sat half-upright at the edge of the bed, wearing only an undergarment, the ties undone. His chest hung loosely, bare to the light, his long hair disheveled, exuding a wild, decadent aura far removed from the elegant, refined young noble he once was.

A wine pot still clutched in his hand, he had saved himself the trouble of a cup and drank directly from it.

He seemed semi-conscious; hearing movement, he called out without opening his eyes, “Bring more wine.”

Gu Fei approached and gently shook his arm, whispering, “Lizhi, it’s me, Afei.”

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes slightly, turning his head to confirm, then smiled, “So it’s Afei.”

“It’s me.” Seeing he retained some awareness and was not completely drunk, she relaxed and reached for the wine pot in his hand. “Come, give me the pot.”

Unexpectedly, Feng Lizhi swatted her hand away, shielding the pot. “No, I want to drink, I want to drink…”

Gu Fei began to feel dizzy, the heavy scent of alcohol filling her nose. Annoyance swelled within her, so she turned her wheelchair and reached to grab the pot from his embrace. “If you keep drinking, the Feng family will truly be finished!”

“What are you doing?” Feng Lizhi suddenly sprang up. As he dodged her movement, the wine pot accidentally struck the wheelchair with a pop, cracking and spilling wine everywhere. At the same time, Gu Fei’s chair was tipped askew.

Caught off guard, she lost her balance and fell to the floor with a thud.

Feng Lizhi, drunk and clumsy, landed heavily on her hand, setting it aflame with pain. The wheelchair’s armrest pressed painfully against her soft waist.

In that instant, half-sober, Feng Lizhi stared blankly at the broken handle still in his grasp, unable to comprehend what happened.

Gu Fei gritted her teeth and propped herself up. Her pale face glowed softly like white jade in the dark room. She was not angry but spoke gently, “Lizhi, help me up.”

Snapping back to himself, he staggered over and suddenly sat down to meet her eye level, looking flustered. “Afei, Aféi, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t…”

“I know.” Gu Fei smiled faintly and reached out. “Don’t blame yourself. I understand everything.”

Feng Lizhi inhaled deeply but did not take her hand. Instead, he leaned forward, wrapping one arm around her back under her armpits and the other beneath her knees, lifting her up.

Her eyes flickered with emotion. As he carried her, he swayed several times. Fearful of falling again, she clutched his chest firmly, awkwardly pressed against his bare skin.

He seemed entirely unaware.

He set her gently on the bed’s edge, then sat beside her, his body brushing against her legs.

“Lizhi…” she began.

“Don’t say a word,” he said, now somewhat clearer in mind. He leaned in, resting his head on her lap, holding her legs tightly as if seeking comfort. One side of his face buried against her, his voice low and hoarse: “Let me lean on you for a while. Just a while…”