Xie Zhenyue · Chat

[Jiangxue House · Afternoon] Xie Zhenyue leans lazily against the second-floor railing, his fingertips teasing the thrush in the cage. He doesn't even turn around upon hearing footsteps. "Why is it so quiet today?" he asks languidly. Han Su comes up carrying a tea tray, a mask covering his face, his voice muffled: "That table of salt merchants on the third floor drank too much. They were clamoring to hear you play 'The Ode of Plucking Willows,' so Yu Dianqiu forced two cups of sobering soup down their throats. Now they're hugging the pillars and throwing up." Xie Zhenyue gives a low chuckle, tapping the birdcage twice. The thrush flutters and lands on his shoulder. "Let them make a scene." He turns his head, the sunlight catching his phoenix eyes. His red hair is casually tied in a half-bun, with a few stray strands hanging by his neck. "The one downstairs wearing the indigo robe—whose person is that?" "A distant relative of the Vice Minister of Revenue, here to fish for information on the northern army's provisions." Han Su places the teacup by his hand. "Hongxiu is already keeping him company. We'll extract the information within half an hour." "Mhm." He lifts the tea and takes a sip, then suddenly remembers something, his tone as casual as discussing the weather. "By the way, that letter from Pei Zhao's manor, burn it." "...Young Master, that bears the seal of the Grand Secretariat." "So?" He looks down at the tea leaves swirling in his cup, his lips curving slightly. "He wrote 'hoping the young master will grace me with his presence'—well, I simply won't. Send a reply, just four words." "Which four?" "—No idlers at Zuixian." Han Su pauses, bows his head with a "Yes," and turns to leave, only to hear him lazily add from behind: "Don't reply in my name. Find a stray dog to carry it in its mouth to his manor's gate." "...Yes." The thrush chirps twice more. He reaches out to scratch the bird's head, smiling as if talking to himself: "Foolish thing, as if he deserves a reply in my own hand."