A two-year-old, and yet so good at consoling people? Li Jingyun looked at him, seeming to think of something, his lips pressed tight, the emotion in his eyes churning even more.

“You’ll stay here with me?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Shiwang froze for a moment, seeming to regret the slip, but glancing him over, thinking this handsome older brother looked rather pitiful, he said quietly, “Mm-hm. Have someone tell my mama — once it’s morning, send me home, okay?”

“All right.” Li Jingyun wiped a hand over his face and asked with a smile, “Which cloth shop does your mama live at?”

This question stumped Shiwang. He only remembered it was a cloth shop — the streets were so many and so wide, how could a two-year-old possibly know which was which? After gesturing laboriously for a long while, Shiwang frowned. “It’s just, you know, that cloth shop.”

Patting his back, Li Jingyun said, “Mm, I’ll have someone go find it.”

Hearing this, Wen Guzhi seized the excuse at once. “This one will go right away.”

Li Jingyun glanced at him but said nothing, continuing to hold Shiwang and talk with him.

The army had, in fact, already marched five days straight, and he ought to have gotten a good sleep. But listening to this child call out “mama,” Li Jingyun leaned back against the couch, not even bothering to change his clothes, and simply sat there quietly watching him.

Wen Guzhi took Qin Sheng out to search, sighing the whole way.

“It shouldn’t be that bad,” Qin Sheng tried to console him. “With news of the young mistress, Third Master will be too pleased to worry about anything else. Even if he does hold your lie against you, he’ll surely go easy on you.”

“You haven’t been at his side long enough,” Wen Guzhi said with a grimace. “That man’s become especially petty these past two years. He won’t say anything on the surface, but he’ll find other ways to make trouble for me.”

Wen Guzhi now had both status and standing — coming from a military medical background, he’d surely be rewarded once they returned. What trouble could there possibly be for him? Qin Sheng didn’t take it seriously, and turned to call the soldiers behind him to search street by street for the cloth shop.

The town wasn’t large, and before long they found the “Yin Cloth Shop.” Wen Guzhi gazed at the sign with a complicated expression for a long moment before finally stepping forward to knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

The wooden knocking echoed once through the empty front hall, then carried back to the rear courtyard.

Huayue and Shuang Jiang had been prepared from the start, being fugitives in hiding, after all. When she’d taken over this shop, she’d had the cellar renovated — with a vent for air, enough food and water, candles, and bedding, all in case anyone ever came searching and they needed somewhere to hide.

Hearing the commotion outside now, the two women weren’t flustered. Shuang Jiang tidied the bed while Huayue sat at the table holding the child, asking him gently, “Are you hungry?”

The little boy stared at her blankly, then nodded.

“If you’re hungry, you have to tell mama — don’t just hold it in, understand?” Huayue said, distressed, stroking his little face, and got up to fetch some dried rations stored in the cellar, muttering to herself as she did. “No wonder he’s been so quiet — starved half to death, poor thing.”

The little boy opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it, and soon a piece of flatbread was pressed into his hand. This gentle woman before him poured him half a cup of warm water and, taking his small hand with her fair, slender fingers, taught him to dip the bread into the water.

“You’ve only got two little teeth, you can’t chew this dry — eat it like this,” she said, leaning down to show him bit by bit.

Youjie’s eyes were full of confusion. He blinked up at her, then couldn’t help but lean in a little closer.

He learned things quickly, actually — anything his father taught him once, he could do. The two children of similar age back at the army camp only knew how to crawl around in the mud, while he could already feed himself with a spoon, dress himself, and even hold a horse stance.

But this was the first time anyone had ever taught him to eat bread so gently.

Youjie followed along obediently, and after two bites, a kiss landed unexpectedly on his cheek.

“My son is such a good boy,” Huayue said, eyes curved into a smile, swaying him gently in her arms. “Once we can go out again, mama will buy you a little drum.”

He knew what a little drum was — the children at the army camp had one. His father had said that was a toy for little kids, not as impressive as a sword, so he’d decided he didn’t want one either. Only, the sword his father had given him was really too heavy — he’d have to grow a lot more years before he could lift it.

Licking his lips, Youjie asked her, “Why do we have to hide?”

The cellar was dim, lit only by candlelight, not very comfortable.

Huayue let her brows droop and coaxed him the way she always did. “There are bad people outside. Mama can’t beat them, so we can only hide for a bit.”

Shiwang was always the most afraid of bad people — every time, he’d end up in tears, wiping his face while still trying to comfort her, saying it’s okay, it’s okay, once I grow up it’ll be fine.

But today, this child showed not the slightest sign of fear on his face. Instead, his brows drew together fiercely, and he said in a firm voice, “Take me outside. I’ll see who dares touch you.”

Such an air of authority, from such a tiny body.

Huayue was stunned. Shuang Jiang, beside her, was startled too, and the two of them crouched down together, chins in hands, looking up at him.

“My goodness, is the young master already this fierce?” Shuang Jiang said, unable to hold back a laugh. “What are you going to use to protect your mama, huh? This lantern?”

Huayue laughed too. “Bad people aren’t afraid of that.”

His face flushing slightly, Youjie pushed the lantern on the table aside, reached into the green wrap around him, and after a moment of struggling, pulled out a small tablet.

“Use this.” He looked at Huayue intently. “I can protect you.”

The sandalwood tablet was held out toward her, the little boy’s back straight and proud.

Huayue laughed and took it to look it over. “Where did you pick this—”

The moment her eyes landed on the characters carved into the tablet, the smile vanished from her face at once, her tone turning sharp. “Where did you get this?!”

Startled, Youjie instinctively climbed down off his stool and stood before her with his hands clasped behind his back. “I didn’t pick it up. My father gave it to me.”

Shuang Jiang’s eyes went wide, and she yanked him over at once, whispering, “What nonsense is this — where would you get a father from?”

The tablet read “Guardian of West Pass,” the characters inlaid in gold with a seal stamped beneath — a seal Huayue recognized, one she’d seen in Li Jingyun’s study before. It was a military token, and the boy hadn’t lied — carrying it really could ward off certain kinds of trouble.

She stared at it for a moment, and something suddenly felt off. She picked up the candlestand nearby and held it up to get a better look at the boy standing there.

He looked exactly like Shiwang — but this child had a mole near his temple, one that Shiwang didn’t have.

Her hand trembling, Huayue closed her eyes and asked Shuang Jiang, “Where did you find him?”

Bewildered, Shuang Jiang answered, “Right there on the main street.”

Drawing a deep breath, Huayue stepped forward and took hold of the green wrap on him, hesitated a moment, then gently lifted it off.

Fine embroidered silk, a jade pendant at his waist — this was nothing like how Shiwang had been dressed before leaving the house.

“This—” Shuang Jiang realized something was wrong too, and quickly asked him, “What’s your name?”

“Youjie,” he answered in a low voice. “As in ‘not having,’ and ‘not minding.'”

The cellar fell silent.

The gentle young woman before him seemed to have suffered some kind of shock, her hands trembling. Youjie stepped forward and gently took her hand, pulling it wordlessly against his own chest.

“Are you hungry?” He looked up at her, his expression perfectly calm. “If you’re hungry, you can have the bread.”

He really was just like his father.

A twin birth — the day she’d left the Protector-General’s residence, she hadn’t dared look back too long, only scooped up one child and left straight away. These past two years, she’d often talked herself into believing it was as though she’d only ever had the one child, that the other, left behind at the residence, must surely be living a better life than the one following her.

She’d never imagined there would come a day she’d see this child again.

Both flustered and guilty, Huayue picked him up and asked quietly, “How did you end up here?”

Youjie liked the scent on her, and nuzzled against her shoulder. “Came home with father, came to see the lanterns.”

“You recognize me?”

“No,” Youjie answered honestly, shaking his head.

Seeing tears well up in this big sister’s eyes before him, he was startled, and quickly added, “But I like you.”

It was the softest thing two-year-old Youjie had ever said. Huayue laughed and cried at once, and turned a distressed face to Shuang Jiang. “How could this have happened?”

Shuang Jiang was just as bewildered, staring at Youjie for a moment before her expression changed. “Oh no — then Shiwang still hasn’t been found.”

The knocking outside had already stopped. Huayue carried Youjie out of the cellar and opened the door to look outside.

Everyone else had been sent away; only a single shadow crouched beneath the eaves, hands gripping his own hair, looking utterly wretched.

Huayue called out cautiously, “Imperial Physician Wen.”

Wen Guzhi turned his head, his eyes brimming with tears. “Sister-in-law, do you know — once I’m back in the capital, I mean to marry Li Yun.”

An old acquaintance she hadn’t seen in so long, and the first thing out of his mouth was this. Huayue found it almost funny, and with some of her guard lowered because of it, leaned against the doorframe and asked, “Weren’t you always too afraid to marry her?”

“Things were unsettled before — marrying her then would have only harmed her. Now that I’ve made something of myself, of course I should marry her.” Wen Guzhi’s face fell. “It’s only, if you’re truly set on not seeing me today, then I won’t be able to marry her either. Given Third Master’s temper, he’ll surely have her transferred elsewhere out of spite — none of us will have a good time of it then.”

With that, he looked almost ready to cry.

Huayue knew he was a shrewd one, but seeing him actually cry in front of her felt wrong somehow too.

“Get up first,” she said. “By your Great Liang’s laws, a married couple separated for two years counts as divorced by default. I have nothing to do with your Third Master anymore. Call me Madam Yin, and I’ll go make some hot tea and have a word with you.”

Wen Guzhi, ever adaptable, corrected himself at once. “Madam Yin.”

Huayue stepped aside to let him in, glanced around, and asked, “Have you come across my child?”

“I came here precisely to set your mind at ease,” Wen Guzhi said. “The young master is with Third Master right now, and will be brought back tomorrow.”

He glanced at her expression, then sighed. “This truly was a coincidence. Back then, since I was willing to let you go, there’s naturally no need for me to play these roundabout games now.”

“So it was you who let me go?” Huayue raised an eyebrow.

Wen Guzhi wiped a hand over his face. “Even if it wasn’t me directly, I certainly didn’t skimp on cleaning up the mess afterward. Given these two peaceful years you’ve had, you might at least grant me a little face today, no?”