Even the best horse may stumble, and even the most skilled person may make mistakes.

Gu Fei barely slept all night. Time stretched endlessly as she lay wide-eyed, staring up at the dusky blue cherry blossom canopy above her. It felt as though her mind was empty, and yet, as if she had thought of everything—past, present, and future—each memory and fear blurred together, indistinct and elusive.

At last, drowsiness crept over her, but the moment her eyes closed, dreams came in relentless succession—visions of happiness, of resentment, and, more than anything, the face of Yue Qingbo, haunting her mind and refusing to fade.

When dawn broke and she rose from bed, the shadows under her eyes betrayed her sleeplessness, and her head throbbed with a dull ache.

Just then, Egret entered with a basin of steaming water and announced, “Miss, there is a young gentleman outside, surnamed Yue, asking to see you.”

Gu Fei’s brow furrowed. At the mention of that name, a wave of irritation washed over her. She splashed her face with the hot water, forcing herself fully awake before replying, “Send Ku Ma to send him away—whatever excuse will do.”

She had no wish to see him, at least not now.

Whether Yue Qingbo truly left or not, Gu Fei did not care. As she ate her breakfast, her thoughts turned to how she might destroy the batch of ink pellets brought from the capital, to ruin Mo Ge Yi’s hopes of making a grand impression at the merchants’ assembly. Yesterday, though Ku Ma had not told her the whole truth, there was one thing she had been right about—

The eldest son of the Gu family, Gu Min, was returning.

After the Merchants’ Assembly in September, October would bring Gu Wanting’s wedding—two momentous occasions Gu Min would surely attend.

Therefore, before Mo Ge Yi arrived in Yizhou, Gu Fei needed to destroy the ink pellets, and when Gu Min returned, she would need to keep a firm grasp on the shop’s recipes and silver. Only in this way could she secure her place in Yizhou and ensure she always had a way forward.

After breakfast, she went to the ink workshop, first examining the ink blanks hammered by You Er the day before. She picked out the unsatisfactory ones, had Nightingale wrap up the rest, and planned to send them to the Gu family shop to dry and be gilded by the master, ready for sale.

Silently, she leafed through her notes on poisonous ink—the records she kept after every attempt, good or bad, always jotting down her thoughts. After a few days, she would review everything, select the best combinations, and begin her experiments anew.

Such tedious and monotonous work might yield results in ten days, allowing her to concoct the perfect ink pellet, or it might take three, five years with nothing to show for it—all her efforts wasted.

Thus, when You Hu entered near dusk, Gu Fei realized she had spent the entire day in the ink room. As soon as she relaxed, an ache settled deep in her neck and arms.

You Hu noticed, but instead of stepping forward, he made a jest. “I thought, Miss, that you were made of iron and steel.”

Gu Fei ignored his mockery, rubbing her own neck. “Any news?”

You Hu nodded, glanced at the door to ensure no one was near, then walked behind her and, with practiced ease, began to knead her neck and shoulders. “There are exactly fifty ink pellets—all freshly made this year. They’ve already been handed to Mo Yan and are stored in warehouse number one at the Little Mo Family’s storehouse.”

The information was so detailed that it felt almost unreal to Gu Fei. She shifted, finding the pressure of You Hu’s hands on her neck just right—soothing in its steadiness. “Is the source reliable?”

You Hu looked down at the pale nape of her neck, the delicate outline of her spine barely visible, her skin soft beneath his touch. His fox-like eyes narrowed, but he replied, “It’s reliable. I bribed a minor steward at the warehouse.”

Satisfied, Gu Fei tapped the armrest with her knuckle. “Then let’s begin. I want all fifty ink pellets—leave none behind.”

At her words, You Hu’s hands paused. He withdrew, moved to stand before her, and with a formal bow, said solemnly, “As you command, Miss.”

That night, after dinner, Gu Fei watched You Hu depart. This evening was the perfect time to act.

Ku Ma stayed by her side. Normally, she would have volunteered to go herself—for all You Hu had found capable men with silver, who could guarantee none of them harbored ulterior motives? She could not put her mind at ease.

But before she could speak, Gu Fei refused her, saying, “For matters solvable with silver, you needn’t involve yourself.”

Ku Ma was taken aback, but silently committed Gu Fei’s words to memory and said nothing more.

Gu Fei idly leafed through the “Hua Family’s Fragrant Recipes,” reading each line without much thought. She had read this little book at least three times, yet every reading brought new insight.

Her plan for poisonous ink began with a single point: the ink must emit a fragrant aroma, so the poison could be released, and then, upon contact with certain substances, the true effect would be triggered. If the ink were instantly poisonous and the scent betrayed it, who would dare use it? Her thinking went even deeper: the ink should target a specific individual, not everyone, so its formula could never be fixed—it would change constantly, no two pellets the same.

But at the moment, she stared at the page before her, unable to turn to the next.

Ku Ma moved the oil lamp closer, took the silver scissors, and trimmed the wick, asking softly, “Miss, are you worried about Young Master You Hu?”

Gu Fei frowned, glancing at Ku Ma, neither confirming nor denying.

Trimming the excess wick, Ku Ma smiled. “Don’t worry, Miss. Young Master You Hu is a learned scholar—he knows well that a gentleman keeps clear of danger.”

Gu Fei shook her head, snapping the book shut. “No, tonight, I have this uneasy feeling. The news from You Hu came too quickly, as if someone was waiting for us to ask. There’s something off about it.”

Ku Ma picked up her unfinished needlework, hands never idle. “Miss, you’re overthinking. It will be fine. Young Master You Hu is always clear-headed—since he arrived at Qing Mo Academy, has anything ever gone awry?”

She paused, then asked gently, “Shall I go to assist, just in case?”

“No need,” Gu Fei cut her off without hesitation, leaning back and rubbing her brow. “I hope I’m just—”

But before she finished, a sudden gust of wind howled outside, making the lamp flicker violently. Ku Ma was just about to fetch a shade when the door slammed open—

You Hu appeared at the threshold, scholar’s robe stained with blood, face pale, lips parted and gasping for air.

Gu Fei’s heart lurched; at a glance, she knew her fears had come true.

“Young Master!” Ku Ma cried, darting forward. “Are you hurt?”

Her voice was thick with anxiety and concern.

You Hu looked only at Gu Fei, his fox-like eyes bright and clear. He shook his head. “No, it’s not my blood. It belongs to those desperadoes who took my silver.”

He walked slowly toward Gu Fei, speaking each word with care. “Miss, I miscalculated. The plan failed. I await your punishment.”

***

At her command, You Hu’s hands had paused. He withdrew, moved to stand before her, and with a formal bow, said solemnly, “As you command, Miss.”

That night, after dinner, Gu Fei watched You Hu depart. Tonight was the perfect time to act.

Ku Ma stayed by her side. Ordinarily, she would have volunteered to go herself. Though You Hu had found capable men with silver, who could say none bore a hidden agenda? She could not relax.

But before she could speak, Gu Fei refused her, “For matters solvable with silver, you needn’t involve yourself.”

Ku Ma, startled, silently took Gu Fei’s words to heart and said nothing more.

Gu Fei idly leafed through the “Hua Family’s Fragrant Recipes,” line by line. She had read this booklet no fewer than three times, yet each reading brought new understanding.

Her first requirement for poisonous ink was that it must emit a fragrant scent, so the poison could be dispersed. Then, when it encountered certain other substances, the poison would form. Otherwise, if an ink pellet became poisonous at the faintest scent, who would dare to use it? Her plan was more intricate still. The poisonous ink formulas would be tailored for a single person, not for all—so the recipe would never be fixed, always shifting, no two pellets alike.

But now, staring at the page before her, she could not turn it.

Ku Ma moved the lamp closer, trimmed the wick with silver scissors, and whispered, “Are you worried about Young Master You Hu?”

Gu Fei frowned, glancing at Ku Ma, neither confirming nor denying.

Ku Ma snipped away the charred wick and smiled. “Don’t worry, Miss. Young Master You Hu is a learned man. He knows a gentleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall.”

Gu Fei shook her head, closing the book. “No, tonight I have an uneasy feeling. You Hu’s message came too quickly, as though someone was waiting for us to ask. Something is wrong.”

Ku Ma picked up her basket of needlework, hands busy. “Miss, you’re overthinking. It’ll be fine. Young Master You Hu is always clear-headed—since he entered Qing Mo Academy, has anything gone awry?”

She paused, then gently suggested, “Shall I go to assist?”

“No need,” Gu Fei interrupted, not even considering it. She leaned back, rubbing her brow. “I hope I’m just—”

Before she could finish, a fierce wind swept by outside, making the light dance wildly. Ku Ma was about to fetch a lamp cover when, with a bang, the door burst open—

You Hu appeared in the doorway, scholar’s robe stained with blood, face pale and breathless.

Gu Fei was stunned; in that instant, she knew her fears had come true.

“You Hu!” Ku Ma cried, leaping forward. “Are you hurt?”

Her voice trembled with urgent worry.

You Hu looked only at Gu Fei, fox-like eyes shining. He shook his head. “No, it’s not my blood. It belongs to those desperadoes who took my silver.”

Slowly, he walked to stand before Gu Fei, and spoke each word distinctly. “Miss, I miscalculated. The plan failed. I await your punishment.”

ps:
Sigh~~~~~~~
I got up early to write, but the company headquarters moved the meeting up, so I ran out of time—still a thousand words short and couldn’t finish. My apologies, everyone. I’ll revise the repeated thousand words at noon so it won’t affect your reading. By the way, starting today, there will be three updates each day for the next few days.