Xie Liuhao first came to Qinwei Alley carrying his little nephew on the tenth day of the ninth month. He remembered that day was scorching—the cicadas in the big tree could only manage a weak, listless drone, and everything felt irritable.

His one-and-a-half-year-old nephew slept in the crook of his arm. He didn’t dare move the whole way, and the skin where his arm touched the child’s had broken out in heat rash—it itched terribly, but he still didn’t dare move.

Back then he’d been so foolish, thinking the heat rash was only on himself. He hadn’t imagined that when he stripped off his nephew’s jacket, the child’s whole back would be covered in it too.

When they got off the cart at the end of Qinwei Alley, he saw Madam Yushu waiting.

Qiqian’er startled at the sight of Xie Liuhao.

Grief had stripped the flesh from his body and left only a hollow shell of a man, his eyes vacant and lost, holding the child as he stared blankly at her.

This child used to be so different—carefree and innocently foolish, sheltered by his older brother. You tell him, I sold you off, and he’d ask how much you sold me for—give me a cut!

It took Xie Liuhao a long moment to recognize Qiqian’er—he’d truly never seen her with such a swollen belly before.

This fairy-like woman had gained a full three rings of weight, with four folds under her chin, looking just like a big steamed bun.

He never imagined that one day he would move into this mysterious alley, would call this woman sister-in-law, and would become one of its residents.

Before, he had envied it so much. If it meant trading his brother’s life for this kind of treatment, he would rather not have it at all.

The fairy lady’s belly was very large. She smiled and came to greet him, and awkward, wronged feelings surfaced on Xie Liuhao’s face. The night Meng Lingzhu had come for him, he hadn’t cried. Being summoned into the palace by His Majesty, he hadn’t cried. Even when his brother’s life was traded for the rank of Zhengwu General, he still hadn’t cried, and hadn’t wanted the title either.

The world was so vast and confusing—he didn’t know why, but seeing the fairy lady, he suddenly felt wronged and aggrieved. Perhaps because she was so formidable, he’d found something to lean on again?

He still couldn’t quite believe any of it was real. Every night before closing his eyes he still thought: tomorrow my brother will call me to get up early, just one shout and I’ll leap up instantly, ready to do whatever needs doing… Maybe his brother would even cover his nose and scold him:

“Xie Liuhao, how old are you now? Smell that stink in your bedding? You can still crawl in there and sleep? Are you saving the mud on your feet to sell for money? Oh, my ancestors—when will you ever grow up?”

But every time he woke, it was just himself. No one would ever call him again. He’d never cried once through it all, but seeing the fairy lady, his eyes suddenly reddened.

Qiqian’er came forward, saw his rimmed red eyes, and smiled as she held out her hands. “Come, it’s hot—it’s hard on the child to sleep against you too. Let me hold him.”

Xie Liuhao looked at her large belly with some worry. Qiqian’er just blinked and smiled. “You still don’t know me? How much could this child possibly weigh?”

So the child was passed over. Qiqian’er looked down and exclaimed in admiration, “Ah, what a handsome child this is!”

Xie Liuhao nodded. “He looks like my brother. You met my brother—he was truly a fine man.”

Whether a child had been properly cared for could be judged by looking behind the ears, at the nape of the neck, and the ankles—whether they were kept clean or neglected.

This poor child had not a single spot that had been properly tended. His uncle only knew how to wash his front.

His eyelashes were long, his eyes long too… his nose bridge was full—he’d surely grow up fine.

Under the terrified gazes of everyone present, Qiqian’er even lifted the child to sniff him—he’d gone rank.

Xie Liuhao knew exactly what Qiqian’er was thinking, and shamefacedly said, “I… I don’t often go to my brother’s residence. My sister-in-law is gone too, and those old women serving him weren’t attentive… it’s my fault. The few times I went, I didn’t notice these things—I saw he could eat and drink fine, so I just… it’s all my fault.”

Qiqian’er glared at him. “Where are those people now?”

Xie Liuhao pressed his lips together. “Sold off!”

Only then did Qiqian’er nod, and said to Xie Liuhao, “Come inside with me first—let’s see where you’ll be living from now on.”

Xie Liuhao had a bellyful of words held back, but couldn’t say any of it. Only he and the fairy lady in this alley knew where those men had gone.

The King of the Gonji Tan people was dead, the various tribal kings’ Sun Palace had been attacked, the Tan people had retreated from the border, and the court’s rescue forces had finally reached the border city… but some people—had still not returned home, and never would.

The narrow long alley had been cleared for the day, and Qiqian’er led over a dozen maids and servants ahead to guide the way.

Until Chen Dasheng and the others returned safely, Xie Liuhao’s plaque as a fourth-rank general couldn’t be hung out—regardless of the small child in his arms, His Majesty had still granted him the title, called General Poluo, Breaker of Barbarians.

The imperial edict was on Xie Liuhao’s person, and the court had given generous rewards too, even granting a sizeable residence in Yandu, setting him up with a substantial estate, enough for them to live in luxury.

But when Master She, acting on the court’s behalf, asked Xie Liuhao how he wished to be settled, he said he wanted to come here, to live alongside the sworn brother his older brother had trusted.

In truth, in his heart, Xie Liuhao wasn’t drawn here for Marquis Chen Xin’s sake. He came because of the fairy lady.

Setting aside old ties, even Uncle Xin said that people forget once someone’s gone, that time fades all things—that relying on Meng Dichen’s care would never be as good as being able to depend on the fairy lady.

Qiqian’er led Xie Liuhao into the courtyard where Chen Siniu used to live. It wasn’t small—five bays wide with three in depth, and a small back courtyard big enough to hold three or four head of livestock.

Madam Qiao had been shrewd and capable—even though this residence had been sold off, she’d kept it in meticulous order.

As they walked through, the rooms had already been thoroughly cleaned, newly purchased rosewood furniture already arranged. Even the nannies to care for the child, the young servants to attend the master, and the stewards had all already been selected, waiting in the courtyard for their new master.

The steward was Chunfen, from Qiqian’er’s side.

Don’t underestimate that young fellow for his age—he was a hereditary servant raised by the She family, steady in nature and well familiar with this place.

Xie Liuhao didn’t understand much of this. Watching Qiqian’er carry the child and lead him through room after room—the granary full, the account room holding a hundred thousand strings of cash, the cabinets stocked head to toe with clothing and shoes, even down to the cords for tying the child’s hair, all prepared—his heart finally settled.

Before, the two brothers had raised their nephew so roughly, never this carefully—here, even the child’s common medicines had all been prepared in full.

Finally they reached the east room together. Qiqian’er, making conversation, introduced him to every household starting from the first door of Qinwei Alley, and at the end said, “Everyone in our alley is good-hearted, we live like one family. This little one of yours won’t even need meals prepared when he’s older—just wander door to door and his aunties will each feed him a mouthful and he’ll grow up fine.”

She bent down and patted the sleeping child on the kang, sighing softly, “No matter how far he wanders, he’ll always come back—a child of Qinwei Alley by fate. What’s his name?”

Xie Liuhao looked at his nephew and sniffed. “Ximu. Xie Ximu.”

Qiqian’er nodded. “Ximu—born in the twelfth month?”

Xie Liuhao nodded. “Mm.”

“Does he have no one on his mother’s side?”

“He does! Quite a few, actually—uncles and aunts aren’t few, just far… several thousand li away, and the elders are all getting on in years too. Brother and sister-in-law… well, they’re still a cut below parents. Besides, my brother’s gone, and I’m all that’s left. Even if they wanted him, I couldn’t let go of him either…” Xie Liuhao wiped his face. “What if my brother comes to me in a dream and asks where his son went? What would I tell him?”

Qiqian’er nodded. “Then… what did the court say to you?”

Xie Liuhao gently wiped the sweat from his nephew’s forehead. “They didn’t say much—just that my brother died for the country, and to prevent Tan retaliation, it can’t be mentioned. They told me to raise the child well, gave me a general’s rank—oh, and this child has one too. From now on… I’m the Qingfeng Division Commander of Jiu Si Tang… heh. Bought with my brother’s life.”

Qiqian’er nodded, probing gently. “You’re called Xie Liuhao—I thought your family must have many brothers?”

Xie Liuhao’s mind sank into memory, and after a long while he said with a bitter smile, “Cousins, plenty of those, but none from the same branch. My family—we’re a fairly well-known martial clan from the south. The most famous is my eldest uncle, Star-Plucking Hand Xie Yuanji—have you heard of him? He was quite something in the martial world. My brother’s and my skills were both taught by him.”

Qiqian’er had no idea about any of this, and just smiled and shook her head.

Xie Liuhao nodded. “Right, you wouldn’t care to hear about these things—my eldest uncle would be nothing before you. Don’t mind it—our family’s just some broken-down martial reputation, doesn’t put food on the table, nothing so remarkable.

That branch is fairly large, plenty of people, but ever since our ancestors started drifting through the martial world, the men never settled down, and the feelings between the different branches of the family were just ordinary. When my father was alive…”

Qiqian’er looked up and cut in, “The old master passed away?”

Xie Liuhao’s face showed no expression as he said, “Mm, gone long ago. People in the martial world love to fight recklessly, and many end up badly. If not for him, my brother couldn’t have brought me into Jiu Si Tang. Actually, people in the martial world call us Jiu Si Tang the court’s running dogs, but my brother said this was the righteous path—that our children could never again be small and… never see their parents again… Who could have guessed—he came out here and still ended up fatherless and motherless.”

He sniffed hard. Qiqian’er handed him a handkerchief, but Xie Liuhao shook his head. “My father… died much like those people in that righteous pavilion over there. He passed when he was only in his twenties—I don’t even remember him. It was the elders in the clan who told me I looked like my father, and my brother looked like our mother.

After my father died, someone was entrusted to send a thousand strings of cash, but my brother and I couldn’t hold onto that money. Thankfully my eldest uncle was capable enough that we still received the yearly relief funds for orphans.

I was three then. By the time I was seven or eight and other people started cursing at me, that’s when I learned I was a child with no father, no mother.

My mother had no ideas of her own—honestly she wasn’t even old herself. The thousand strings for settling the household disappeared, and she didn’t even know which door to knock on to ask for it. It wasn’t until my brother made something of himself that he managed to pry that money out of the clan elders.

With the man who held up the household gone, and two children not yet grown, my mother cried every day. Later, my mother’s family came and said, don’t keep mourning, you’re not old yourself—and she got up and left…

Actually, it wasn’t really her fault. When my father was alive he was rarely home, spent his days drifting about outside—if he hadn’t been badly injured and needed to be bedridden and tended to, he wouldn’t have come home at all… I don’t hate him. My brother always said, don’t hate our mother—people need time together to build real bonds. That’s how affection grows. We never got to build that bond with our mother either…”

Several maids came in with trays, bringing Xie Liuhao plain noodles and a number of infant garments.

The sewing-room matrons needed to check the child’s actual size before they could properly tailor clothes to fit him snugly—once they’d taken a look, they’d already altered several suitable changes of clothes in no time at all, quick and capable hands.

Xie Liuhao hadn’t eaten properly in days, and didn’t want to now either.

But Qiqian’er pushed the bowl toward him and ordered, “Swallow it like poison then. Eat it like your last meal on earth—don’t even bother chewing, if it’s disgusting just stuff it down, if your heart hurts pour it down. Grieving, look at your nephew—think how small he is, how weak, think of him starving alone and being bullied by others! And you still have the nerve to put on this show and not eat?”

She pointed at her own belly. “I’m due any day now. Once I give birth, I’ll be out of commission for at least a hundred days at minimum—I won’t be able to help much. And really, helping isn’t even my place—there’s no blood tie between us, no one would blame me for not bothering. But you’re different. You have to eat. You have to live well.”

Xie Liuhao took the bowl with trembling hands. “I’ll eat, I’ll eat… fairy lady.”

“Why are you eating for my sake? Eat your own noodles! And call me sister-in-law. You’re his younger brother, so you’ve long since been mine too, haven’t you?”

“Mm.”

Qiqian’er finished speaking, stroked the sleeping child on the kang, and said smiling, “This is my son now. Heh—my An’er is a fortunate child, now he’s got both an older brother and sister. That Sanli Academy on our street is quite good—later he can take his little brother along to study together, just like how your brother took you along. Think about it… wouldn’t that be nice?”

Xie Liuhao nodded blankly, eating the plain noodles without tasting them at all, slurping and gulping, one bowl, two bowls, three bowls!

He stuffed it down! Stuffing and crying, crying and stuffing, until the bowl was empty and his eyes were swollen.

Chunfeng brought in a washbasin. Xie Liuhao washed his face and sat back down on the kang.

Qiqian’er asked him, “Want to eat a little more?”

The little child on the kang had been restless these past days, and only today had finally settled into deep sleep. He hummed and turned over. Qiqian’er shifted her body forward, lifted the back of the child’s little shirt, and seeing his whole back red with rash, shot Xie Liuhao a glare.

Xie Liuhao startled too, his heart aching bitterly as he said, “…From now on… from now on, what am I supposed to do? My brother was so cruel—he said he’d abandon me, and he really did abandon me…”

He gritted his teeth. From then on, he could not cry.

Qiqian’er looked at him, and she understood everything he felt completely—just like the helpless widow on Quanhou Street who had only herself to rely on, and Tong Jintai and the others who’d once given up their homes, and Chen Dasheng who had given up himself.

That man truly had no deep bond with her—they’d barely met a few times. But the whole world had made him out to be her support, and so she’d come to lean on him.

With that person, you had a home. Without that person, only one chopstick remained.

He’d said he was leaving and just left, without so much as a farewell… walking off into the passing years, leaving only herself in this world still resenting him, still holding tightly to his memory.

She always wanted to ask—what did I ever owe you? How could you be so heartless, to abandon me so easily? Am I worth so little?

Jixiang’s mother brought over some bitter melon ointment requested from Master Cheng, and Qiqian’er, bracing her belly that frightened everyone just to look at, carefully applied the medicine to the child.

The little one made contented humming sounds in his sleep, and everyone in the room, seeing him comforted, smiled.

“Truly a good-natured child.”

Finally, after airing out the child’s back and changing his bib, Qiqian’er took a cloth and gently, bit by bit, washed the child’s neck and ankles.

Her movements were gentle and tender, and the child wasn’t disturbed in the slightest, even making little giggling sounds in his sleep.

Qiqian’er laughed softly, “Did you learn tricks from Sleeping Granny? My good boy… such a good-natured child, not minding at all that his godmother’s hands are rough.”

Xie Liuhao, deeply apologetic, knelt there and said, “Mm, just like my brother!” He finished, looked up at the sky, and sighed. “Good-natured.”

Once the child was settled, Qiqian’er finally let out a breath and asked, “I haven’t asked about your family’s affairs, only heard you’ve been raising the child alone. So there’s really no one else?”

Xie Liuhao shook his head. “There is, plenty actually. That whole village carries the surname Xie—within several hundred li there are gang leaders, wandering swordsmen, and an old recluse elder who watches over the village. Whenever there’s a private feud in the martial world, a dispute to settle, an escort job, bandit trouble, a great beast menace… they come to the village to hire people, and a shout brings them running every time.

Out there it’s all blood relations coming and going, but relatives who live close by actually aren’t that close—it’s just surface courtesy. When my father died, even they couldn’t be relied on, let alone now. It’s just that the clan handles things—food and drink aren’t a worry, learning skills isn’t a worry, but for anything else, you really can’t count on others. After all… our family’s produced its share of drifters and troublemakers too, especially ones like us…

They all said my brother would amount to something great, mainly because with no one managing us we still grew up fine, never caused trouble for anyone, and now it’s even less likely we’d trouble them. If we’d had a grandfather it might be different—but my grandfather… passed early too.”

Qiqian’er understood then, why Xie Wuhao had brought Xie Liuhao from the south to Jiu Si Tang—he hadn’t wanted the next generation to fall back into the martial world’s disputes, hadn’t wanted generation after generation of children born only to fill that illusory pit of the martial world again.

Hearing Xie Liuhao’s tone, he too seemed to despise all of it deeply.

Seeing Qiqian’er fall silent, some words turned over and over in Xie Liuhao’s heart, and he couldn’t say how many times they circled before he finally told her: “Yesterday I saw the Grand Commander. He said… of Jiu Si Tang’s four enforcers, my brother and Brother He Min were both lost…”

Her belly cramped sharply, and Qiqian’er clutched it, jerking her head up. Xie Liuhao spoke rapidly, “No, no! Don’t worry! My sworn brother is fine, nothing’s wrong, truly! Believe me—our commander said this time it exposed something, that our martial-world fighters really do lack in actual combat experience…”

Qiqian’er let out a long breath, and looking earnestly at Xie Liuhao said, “You can’t hide things from me.”

Xie Liuhao shook his head hard. “Whether he’s injured or not I don’t know for certain, but he’s truly fine—they say they’ve identified the mastermind behind the attack on our border city, and they’re going after them one by one to avenge the blood debt. What Old Dao handles isn’t the same as what we do.

I don’t have the heart to ask the details… What we learned before—heh, you know how it is, in the martial world, fights among the underworld don’t come without warning, there’s usually a path drawn out beforehand.

Tch… thinking about it now it’s just a joke. The experienced old recluses don’t come out, so what can the lowest-ranked do? However promising my brother and the others were, however good their backgrounds, given their experience in the martial world and their age, they were still just muddling through in Jiu Si Tang… Oh right, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Qiqian’er looked up.

Xie Liuhao said earnestly, “Before, Uncle Xin told me and Brother Zhou that what you practice doesn’t seem like martial-world techniques, nor does it look like actual military combat methods. The old man was puzzled too, said you’re different from us… My sworn brother—does he know those moves of yours too?”

Qiqian’er blinked and nodded. “He does. He even knows those dog-dodging moves of that old thing Uncle Xin’s.”

Xie Liuhao, who’d been feeling quite low, showed a trace of a smile. “Then my sworn brother’s definitely fine. This isn’t me flattering you, but ten Uncle Xins put together couldn’t match your skill—and does Uncle Xin even willingly teach his best-kept techniques?”

Qiqian’er scoffed. “What’s so rare about what he knows? Besides, it’s not like he only owes me once or twice.”

But Xie Liuhao said, “How is it not rare? Don’t underestimate Uncle Xin—sure, he came up low, as the head of the beggar’s sect, but as for his skill, compared to the Abbot of Huguo Temple, he’s only a notch below. Both are veterans from the previous dynasty…”

Qiqian’er chatted idly with Xie Liuhao a while longer, and left as night fell. Just as she was heading out the door, Xie Liuhao asked her, “Sister-in-law, do you think… when my brother died, did it hurt? It must have hurt terribly…”

Qiqian’er didn’t know whether Xie Wuhao had suffered pain, but she felt her belly cramp all the same.

That night, Qiqian’er had a dream: burly wild men on horseback dragged a person behind them for a great distance, until that person was dragged to death by the horse. Then they said, this was a warrior, he deserved a proper send-off—and so they cut off his head and hung it high on a wooden pole for the eagles to peck at his flesh.

Closer and closer it came, and Qiqian’er saw that the head was Chen Dasheng’s.

His half-open eyes looked at her, an expression somewhere between a smile and an apology filling them, as if to say, I’m sorry… in the end… I didn’t survive… I can’t come back!

Qiqian’er’s heart clenched, and the pain woke her.

That cramping pain, moving from her lower back to the front, came in waves. Counting the days—had it come early?

Qiqian’er, supporting her lower back, called out for someone to fetch the midwife from the old estate—she was going into labor…

That night, the stars in the sky were unusually bright. The old lady was helped outside with her shoes on the wrong feet, and even unconsciously looked up at the sky.

The sky was dark but clear, every single star shining so brightly, twinkling, each one gleaming.

The old lady nimbly broke free of those helping her, not even wanting the cane she usually leaned on, and took off at a trot, running as fast as she could.

Her shoe flew off along the way; she hopped over, jammed it back on, and kept running. When she reached the place, she sat beneath Qiqian’er’s window, waiting.

Later she stopped sitting and knelt instead, chanting sutras, praying to Buddha.

Two hours passed with no sound from inside. Qiqian’er made not a single noise, though two basins of blood had already been carried out, and those outside began to panic.

This pregnancy had gone so well, and the baby was so large—that kind of pain would tear most people apart, but for Qiqian’er, it felt like a final judgment. She wasn’t in pain so much as she was afraid, terrified.

The suffering of her past could mask any pain—even if they’d sliced her with blades, it couldn’t overpower the unease in her heart. She didn’t dare cry out, didn’t dare disturb anyone, just breathed in great gasps, chanting sutras along with the old lady, praying to Buddha… praying to every god there was!

An’er, come to me, come, come!

An’er, mother’s here, mother’s grown strong, I’m not lying to you, An’er… please… mother misses you!

Mother’s An’er…!

These past months, more than once she’d thought in her heart—what if it isn’t An’er? What if it’s a girl?

If it isn’t him, could I be fair to them?

If it isn’t him, could I get through this?

Sweat soaked her forehead as she gasped urgently, and she heard the old lady outside the window seemingly negotiating with someone.

“…Star Lord, ah, we didn’t mean to steal you, we know we stole you, but if you’re suffering find the real source—this has nothing to do with your mother… If you want to come, come properly. This is our first dealing with each other too, and shouldn’t we leave a good impression on each other? Don’t torment your mother like this, she’s suffering enough…”

Qiqian’er let out the breath she’d been holding, not knowing what else to say, and thinking of that nightmare, cursed loudly: “Chen Dasheng! I hate you! This is all your fault!!!!”

Outside, the old lady muttered, “Exactly right, tell me what use is he anyway, truly a wastrel good-for-nothing—the family can’t count on him for anything, doesn’t even have half his wife’s skill at earning money!

And at a time like this!! Doesn’t even know to ask his father for a favor—our family’s different now, why can’t he bow his head and ask someone? His wife’s giving birth, such a big event, why can’t he mention it to His Majesty—it’s not like it’d cost him any flesh…”

Zhang Wanru’s mother came scurrying in from outside, and hearing the old lady slandering her grandson right outside his wife’s delivery room, said with a mix of laughter and exasperation, “Oh my, my dear ancestor, no one else has a great-grandmother like you—at a time like this, say something good, why are you filing complaints?”

The old lady looked up, righteous indignation on her face, and wailed, “Me, he’s nothing to me—the one inside is the one who’s truly mine…” Saying this, she pounded her chest and cried, “Why is it so hard! Why is it so hard? Why must my child be so stubborn—listen, just listen, this whole time, my child hasn’t cried out in pain once, that little wretch is going to be the death of us all…”

Before she could finish, Qiqian’er, overcome with fury, cursed loudly: “Ah… Chen Dasheng, curse your ancestors eight generations back… where are you!!”

The old lady stumbled and muttered, “Hey… child, you’ve got that wrong, curse your own man, don’t curse mine… tch… ah, I’ll go pray to the Bodhisattva then…”

Just as she reached the door, an infant’s cry rang out.

In that instant, the old lady looked up and saw the Morning Star.

Inside the delivery room, the three midwives couldn’t hold back Qiqian’er as she reached for the child. They could only watch, stunned, as the half-mad new mother turned the baby over, and seeing a star-shaped birthmark on his waist, suddenly burst into wailing sobs… as if only now remembering that childbirth was supposed to hurt, and pouring all that pain into this one moment of heart-wrenching crying…

An’er, ah…