The taut silk gleamed with a faint sheen, catching the bright sun outside like a clear, cool summer lake.

Huayue stared at the embroidery frame in her hands for a long while, then continued setting her needle as though nothing were the matter.

Two years had passed in the blink of an eye. At first, to guard against anyone tracking her down, she had moved shops several times, only to later realize it had all been unnecessary — in two years, aside from herself and Shuang Jiang, not a single outsider had come through the small town.

Li Jingyun was surely doing well, and so long as he was doing well, the child she’d left behind would want for nothing either. With that thought, Huayue felt it was enough.

She finished off the last stitch of her pattern carefully, set down her hands, and rubbed her neck.

The letter sat on the small table nearby, giving off the particular scent of the capital’s fine paper. Without looking that way, Huayue sat in silence for a while, then finally reached over and tore open the seal.

Xiaocai had stayed on at Qifeng Tower; being so capable, the manager had raised her wages, and she’d settled in there comfortably, sending a letter every year to tell of what had happened in the capital.

The Emperor of Great Liang had passed away a year ago, and the succession still hung undecided, with Zhou Hemin serving as regent for the time being. Perhaps because of this, unrest stirred across Great Liang, even drawing the covetous eyes of neighboring states, with fighting flaring frequently along the borders. Li Shoutian had taken up his command and returned to the battlefield.

Xiaocai, being only a servant, wasn’t especially well-informed and could only pass along scattered fragments, but Huayue didn’t mind — she read it the way one reads a chronicle, skimming through with idle interest.

This letter was much the same. It mentioned the palace granting Li Jingyun some new honor, though it wasn’t clear for what. The Li family’s young master had turned two, and was in fine health. Some family’s daughter had taken a liking to Li Jingyun and ran to the Protector-General’s residence every day. Someone else had angered him, and had gone up the mountain during the spring hunt and never come back down.

Bits and pieces — only the two lines about the young master were of any use.

Once she’d read it through, Huayue burned it on the candlestand without another thought, and yawned lazily.

“Mama, Mama.” Shiwang came running back, wrapping his arms around her leg and tilting his head up to look at her, his small face flushed. “Auntie Shuang says there’s a chicken-thread ceremony in town tonight.”

“That’s the ancestral rites ceremony.” Huayue laughed, lifting up his flailing little arms and legs. “You want to go and join the fun?”

Shiwang nodded firmly, his bright eyes fixed on her, blinking as he asked, “Mama, are you busy?”

Feeling a bit playful, Huayue said with feigned reluctance, “I am a little busy — lots of customers at the shop lately, I’ll be busy for a while yet.”

His brows dropped, and tears welled up in Shiwang’s eyes, though he didn’t cry out loud, only wiping at his face with the back of his hand over and over. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll go with Auntie Shuang, and bring you back a mugwort sachet. Mama, don’t be sad.”

A soft little bundle, the tip of his nose gone red, his small hand still patting at her shoulder. Huayue couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him, laughing. “Now who’s the one being sad?”

“Me — I mean, I’m not sad,” Shiwang said, forcing his reddened eyes wide open at her.

Shuang Jiang leaned in the doorway, saying with mock sorrow, “Mistress, have a little conscience — he’s only two.”

Bursting into laughter, Huayue pinched her sleeve and wiped his face. “There, there — Mama does have time. I’ll go with you to see the big lanterns, all right?”

His tears turning to laughter, Shiwang nodded eagerly, and nearly toppled sideways from how he was sitting. Huayue pulled him back into her arms and patted him, thoroughly content.

The small town had a custom of mid-year ancestral rites. On the day of the ceremony, red lanterns were hung all through the streets and alleys; adults wore masks out on the street to ward off evil, while children, being innocent, only needed to be wrapped in a green wrap-cloth, mugwort tied into their hair, and follow the crowd to the open square in the middle of town to pay respects to their ancestors and drink rice wine.

Huayue was an outsider, but fortunately the townsfolk didn’t shun her; some auntie or another would send over masks and green wraps well ahead of time. Once it grew dark, the two women took Shiwang and blended right into the crowd on the street.

“Isn’t little Shiwang getting heavier?” Shuang Jiang said, laughing despite herself as she hefted him in her arms. “Auntie can barely carry him anymore.”

Huayue took him and hefted him herself, smiling. “He has put on some weight.”

Hearing this, Shiwang wriggled his way down to the ground and took Huayue’s hand. “Don’t need to carry me, I’ll walk myself.”

With people all around, Huayue leaned down to ask him, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“It’s fine, I’m big enough now.” He hefted the bamboo strips wrapped in the green cloth around his body, looking as serious as a little green lantern himself. “I should walk on my own.”

Shuang Jiang was delighted to hear this, ruffling his little head and muttering happily, “Worth it — this was absolutely worth it.”

Rolling her eyes at her with a laugh, Huayue kept walking.

The town was usually quiet, but on the day of the ancestral rites, everyone who had traveled far away came back, filling the streets to bursting. By the time it came for everyone to kneel and pay their respects, there was some jostling and pushing.

Before she knew it, Huayue was shoved from behind, and the hand holding Shiwang’s was wrenched free. Shiwang gave a muffled cry of pain, and Huayue let go at once, calling out urgently, “Watch it, there’s a child here!”

The crowd was simply too dense — people pushed and shoved, kneeling as they retreated one after another, and by the time Huayue could finally see clearly around her, Shiwang was nowhere to be found.

“Over there — I’ll go find him.” Shuang Jiang, who had kept her eyes on that flash of green the whole time, reassured Huayue with a touch and bent low, pushing through the crowd in that direction.

All the children out today were wrapped in green, but Shiwang was easy enough to pick out, being such a well-behaved child. Shuang Jiang struggled her way through with apologies, and once she reached a wider stretch of street, she saw Shiwang standing there hugging the bamboo strips inside his green wrap, staring blankly, his eyes fixed on a lantern by the roadside.

“You and your lanterns.” Shuang Jiang scolded gently as she walked over, taking down the lantern he’d been staring at, fitting it onto a wooden stick, and pressing it into his hands. “Here.”

Shiwang loved red lanterns best; holding it made him a little happier, and he blinked up at her, tilting his head.

“Looking for your mama?” Shuang Jiang glanced at the densely packed crowd kneeling ahead and rubbed her forehead helplessly. “We’re not getting through there. Let’s just wait here for her — she’ll be worried about you, so she shouldn’t take too long.”

The words had barely left her mouth when a faint, rapid clatter of hooves sounded from behind them.

The small town mostly saw ox carts, rarely horses. The moment Shuang Jiang heard it, her expression changed, and she scooped Shiwang up and ducked into a side alley.

A troop of mounted men hurried past from outside, the riders in armor, carrying themselves with an air of no small importance.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Shuang Jiang muttered to herself, “Why would people like that come to this town.”

Shiwang looked up briefly and said quietly, “General Li has returned in triumph.”

General Li? Shuang Jiang went rigid all over and looked down at him. “How do you know that?”

“I heard someone say it just now.” Shiwang pointed outside. “They said he won the battle.”

Both afraid and anxious, Shuang Jiang covered his mouth and shook her head repeatedly. “Young Master, being clever is a good thing, but you shouldn’t repeat everything you hear. When you see your mother later, you must not mention this in front of her, understand?”

His eyes darted about, and Shiwang answered obediently, “Okay.”

Once the ancestral rites had ended, the townsfolk, seeing soldiers had come to town, hurried back to their homes and shut their doors and windows tight. Huayue came hurrying over, gathering her skirts, and seeing Shuang Jiang had found the child, quickly pulled her back home too.

“What’s wrong?” Shuang Jiang asked. “Are these people here to cause trouble?”

“No.” Carrying Shiwang back to the cloth shop, Huayue shut the door behind them. “They said they’re here looking for someone.”

Shuang Jiang’s skin prickled, and she immediately added two more locks to the door.

The Li family’s army, come here looking for someone — who could they be after? The two women exchanged a look, both hearts sinking.

“It might just be a coincidence,” Huayue said after a moment’s thought. “It’s been so long — why would they suddenly think to come looking now.”

“You should still be careful,” Shuang Jiang said, pushing her toward the back courtyard. “Go hide in the cellar first, and come out once they’ve left.”

Huayue understood, and reached to take off the green wrap covering Shiwang so she could more easily carry him down to the cellar. But the moment she reached for it, the child clutched at it desperately, his eyes brimming with tears as he said, “Don’t take it off, I like this.”

This was the first time Shiwang had ever refused her. Surprised, Huayue didn’t press the matter, and carried both the wrap and the child down to the back courtyard.

“Were you frightened just now?” she asked him softly. “Where did your Auntie Shuang find you?”

“On the street,” Shiwang answered, biting his lip.

He really must have been startled — he’d spoken far less than usual since, his hands clutching the lantern tightly.

Huayue studied him for a moment, feeling something was off, but she couldn’t quite place what it was.

Li Jingyun sat astride his horse, his face cold as he looked at Qin Sheng.

Qin Sheng said helplessly, “Can you really blame me? That little troublemaker slips through any gap he finds — whose child is this hard to manage?”

“You’re a commander, and you can’t handle a two-year-old?” Li Jingyun sneered. “Should I take that hairpin token off you and hang the seal on him instead?”

Qin Sheng laughed awkwardly, scratching his head as he continued forward. The street was full of people hurrying to get out of the way after the ceremony had ended, and he could hardly find anyone to ask.

“Whoa.” Li Jingyun abruptly reined in his horse.

Startled, Qin Sheng took the horse’s bridle and turned to look in the same direction, and saw a green lantern drifting slowly down the stone steps nearby, a small pale, delicate face — achingly familiar.

“Youjie.” Li Jingyun swung down from his horse and strode over, scooping him up. “You saw your father and still tried to run?”

His short little legs left the ground. The child twisted awkwardly to look back at him, dazed.

Still trying to pretend not to know him? Li Jingyun narrowed his eyes. “Making trouble for people in a crowd like this — go back and get ready for extra horse-stance drills.”

With that, he tossed him straight into Qin Sheng’s arms.

“Where are you taking me?” The little boy struggled, frowning. “I want to go home, my mama’s still waiting for me.”

Qin Sheng had meant to remove the messy green wrap from him, but hearing this, he was so startled he nearly dropped the boy, scrambling to cover his mouth.

How many times had he been told not to mention those two words in front of Third Master? And this little troublemaker had the nerve to go against the grain like this.

But the child in his arms struggled hard and wouldn’t let himself be silenced, shouting loudly, “Uncle Zhang, Auntie Liu, save me, I want to go back and find my mama!”

The street was already empty; naturally no one came to save him. Qin Sheng gave a wary glance up toward the horse, and saw Third Master’s face darken as he looked coldly down at the little thing in his arms. “No sleeping in once we’re back in the capital — early morning training starts again.”

The boy in his arms let out a wail and began to cry, sobbing between shouts, “I want Mama, Mama!”

Making a scene was of no use whatsoever. Li Jingyun spurred his horse forward, and Qin Sheng ran after him, carrying the child, trying to soothe him as he went. “Stop crying now — you know full well what your father’s like, crying won’t do a thing, threatening him even less.”

Heartbroken as he was, the child had no ear for reason, crying and kicking, struggling to get down.

“Aiya, little young master, this town only lights lanterns for one night, and if you really stayed here you’d starve. See that inn up ahead? There’s good food there — don’t cry now, all right?”