The moment Zhao Jing returned, she closed the book of incense recipes and tucked it under her pillow. As she lay down, she turned to him and said, "Jing, I still owe you a custom incense I haven't made yet."
Zhao Jing smiled. "I know. I thought you'd forgotten, or were planning to go back on your word."
She had promised to create a special incense just for him, but all she had given him since was an embroidered sachet.
As three or four months went by without a trace of the incense, he'd begun to think she planned to go back on her promise.
'So she wasn't trying to get out of it, she just didn't have any inspiration?'
Chen Wanqing nodded. "I always keep the promises I make to you. The only reason I haven't delivered is that I felt the blends I've been developing privately just weren't worthy of you."
"It is I who am unworthy of your incense."
