The water breeze was gentle, ripples stretching and flattening the moon’s reflection, creating constant unrest. She leaned against the railing when a slightly cool voice softly sounded beside her: “The flowers are beautiful and the moon is full, why are you so melancholy?”

The mid-autumn moon was exceptionally bright. The osmanthus shadows danced, and sweet fragrance drifted in the air. As dusk just began to fall, countless gauze palace lanterns had already lit up in the osmanthus trees, their reflections shimmering on the water’s surface. Jade pavilions and pearl towers, flower shadows moving in the wind – for a moment, one couldn’t distinguish between heaven and earth.

In the small pavilion by the water, songstresses sang in unison, their voices near the water more clear and melodious than strings and bamboo instruments. On the platform, thirty young women dressed in brocade joined hands and sleeves, dancing gracefully. Rainbow clothes and rosy clouds, adorned with pearls and jade, created a brilliant spectacle.

Huang Zixia listened to the songs carried by the wind, sitting with several ladies behind the waterside pavilion’s curtain to watch. This was the West Sichuan Military Commissioner’s garden, and today during the Mid-Autumn Festival, Commissioner Fan Yingxi was hosting Prince Li Shubai of Kui in his residence. Huang Zixia had been invited by Madam Fan, along with several daughters of the Huang family, to watch the “Rainbow Feather Dress Dance.”

This melody had been lost since the An-Shi Rebellion, but now a Yangzhou music troupe had found an elderly imperial musician to recreate it, said to have captured all its exquisite elements.

The men were in the front hall, while Huang Zixia and the other ladies were in the back hall. A bamboo curtain separated the waterside pavilion inside and out, with another layer of gauze curtain behind it, so the dance movements outside appeared distant, like flowers seen through the mist.

The group of women chatted idly while watching, appreciating the performance in fits and starts.

“Sister Zixia, my brother often mentions you at home. Yesterday he even said you were as clever as him, and I scolded him thoroughly. How dare he compare himself to you?” Zhou Ziyan sat beside her, resting her chin on her hand as she smiled, “I think you must be the most perfect woman in the world!”

Huang Zixia felt slightly embarrassed and could only lower her head, saying, “Not at all.”

Zhou Ziyan, like Zhou Ziqin, was skilled at monologuing, never letting others affect her cheerful mood: “You are in every way! You’re beautiful, from a noble family, and a famous talented lady known throughout the land. Your fiancé is the eldest grandson of the main branch of the Wang family of Langya. When you marry into the Wang family in the future, one can imagine your lifelong happiness and contentment!”

Huang Zixia remained silent with lowered head, unable to respond, only casting her gaze through the two layers of curtains toward the slightly blurry figure of Wang Yun outside. Although she couldn’t see very clearly, his outstanding bearing was enough to captivate countless women.

This fiancé she had been betrothed to since childhood was from a noble family, cultured and refined, his every word and action as refreshing as a spring breeze. Yet although she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help developing inappropriate feelings for Yu Xuan, an orphan adopted by her parents.

The love letter she wrote to Yu Xuan became evidence of her poisoning her relatives. When she was forced to flee to the capital seeking to overturn the case, she encountered the most important turning point in her life—

Her gaze moved past Wang Yun, falling on that more distant figure.

Among the crowd of fawning admirers, he stood out as particularly cool and pure, elegant and distinguished. Prince Li Shubai of Kui, the miracle in her life, her savior in despair, made her unhesitatingly abandon her previous plans and accept the first mystery at his side. In exchange, she asked him to help her return to Shu and overturn the case for her family and herself.

By now, he had truly brought her back to Chengdu, and her parents’ wrongful case had come to light, but her fiancé Wang Yun had secretly pursued Li Shubai here to kill him. What surprised her even more was that after her relationship with Yu Xuan had become the talk of the town, after she had mercilessly exposed his identity as an assassin, Wang Yun had still come to her clan to bring up their engagement again.

Could the two of them still be together?

Should they still honor that engagement arranged many years ago, now that circumstances have changed so much?

Just as Huang Zixia was lost in thought, she suddenly heard exclamations of surprise from those around her. Looking up, she saw that all the dancers on stage had become background figures, with only one magnificently embroidered woman in the center spinning passionately, her slightly drooping hand movements like flowing wind and returning snow, her glances full of charm. Light gauze and silk floated around her entire body like clouds and mist, clustering around her face like a celestial maiden from the palace of stamens, her radiance illuminating all.

Everyone around was amazed, only coming back to their senses when the colorful clouds obscured the moonlight, and her figure was hidden by the crowd.

Someone asked, “Who is that lead dancer?”

“Who else could it be but that dancing girl from Yangzhou… though some say she’s from Puzhou. In any case, she should be the sister of Gong Sun Daniu who committed the murder. She’s been ingratiating herself with Commissioner Fan, and it’s said he has agreed to spare those two female criminals.”

Huang Zixia immediately thought of someone and couldn’t help asking, “Lan Dai?”

“Yes, that’s the name!”

Huang Zixia watched Lan Dai’s ethereal, graceful figure appearing and disappearing in the crowd, feeling somewhat emotional. Lan Dai ranked third among the Six Ladies of Yun Shao, was the most skilled in soft dance and most loyal among the sisters. After Mei Wanzhi disappeared, it was she who searched far and wide to find and raise Mei Wanzhi’s daughter Xue Se; now that Gong Sun Daniu and Fu Xinruan were in trouble, she had also traveled thousands of miles to save them.

People nearby continued talking: “I heard she’s already married with children, yet she still shows such a lack of self-respect, wearing heavy makeup and dancing for others’ entertainment in public. How can her husband allow this?”

Another person sneered: “These performing merchants, what do they know of shame? Any man who would marry such a woman must also be from the lowest class.”

The ladies finally found a common topic, their faces lighting up as they whispered together. Meanwhile, Zhou Ziyan and the other young girls watched Lan Dai with a mixture of shyness and curiosity, completely absorbed.

Huang Zixia couldn’t help but sigh, wandering to the railing in the ethereal music of the “Rainbow Feather Dress,” staring blankly at the full moon’s reflection in the water.

The water breeze was gentle, ripples stretching and flattening the moon’s reflection, creating constant unrest. She leaned against the railing when she heard a slightly cool voice softly sound beside her: “The flowers are beautiful and the moon is full, why are you so melancholy?”

She turned her head, looking at Li Shubai through the gauze curtain. Everyone in the hall was captivated by Lan Dai’s dance; only he had noticed her walking over here alone.

Huang Zixia lowered her head against the railing, slowly moving two or three inches closer to him through the curtain, saying softly, “I just miss my family.”

Li Shubai silently turned his head to gaze at her. She saw his profile sharp and handsome in the moonlight, and those eyes looking at her seemed to reflect the waves like bright stars had fallen into them. His voice was deep and gentle as it sounded beside her: “The dead are long gone, the living must persevere. Your family would surely want you to live happily in this world, not remain immersed in sorrow for long.”

She slowly nodded. A breeze came, making the gauze curtain drift gently, rising and falling with the unease in her heart. The full moon was at his left shoulder, casting his shadow onto her, tall and straight, so stable and reliable.

She felt an indescribable emotion well up in her heart, her chest filled with rippling, smoke-like moisture. The world before her eyes began to distort unstably, more ethereal than the music carried by the wind at that moment.

They both fell silent, just quietly watching the full moon rise in the east, casting clear radiance across the ground below the towers and pavilions. In their ears were qin, xiao, sheng, and pipes, the “Rainbow Feather Dress” with its complex rhythms repeating twelve times, thirty dancers moving ever more rapidly, thirty brocade figures spinning on the water’s surface like wind and clouds.

Amidst the chaotic dance shadows and complex, urgent music of pipes and strings, Li Shubai listened with slightly furrowed brows, letting out a soft “hmm.”

Huang Zixia asked, “What’s wrong?”

Li Shubai said thoughtfully, “The second konghou seems to have a metallic discord.”

The “Rainbow Feather Dress” was performed by a large instrumental ensemble. This time, almost all of Chengdu’s official courtesans had turned out, with two pipas, two guqin, two konghou, one se, one zheng, and one ruan xian. There were also two bili, two flutes, two shengs, and one xiao, along with bells, drums, gongs, cymbals, chimes, and others – a group of over twenty people sitting by the stage playing according to custom.

Huang Zixia could barely see the people there clearly, let alone understand what he meant by metallic discord, so she just glanced over and said casually, “Perhaps they played a wrong note.”

Li Shubai turned to smile at her, saying nothing more.

The two leaned on the railing, watching the singing and dancing across the curtain. Lantern light illuminated the pavilions and towers, the water’s surface reflecting the wind-like spinning dancers, flowers blooming brilliantly above and below. Rippling light, faint osmanthus fragrance, a magnificent scene in its prime.

Just then, they suddenly heard a scream from far away by the lake, someone shouting: “Something’s wrong! Something’s happened!”

Huang Zixia looked toward where the sound came from, discovering it was from the calamus field by the water’s edge. A servant came running over, shouting: “Help! Someone’s dead!”

Upon hearing the word “dead,” Zhou Ziqin, who was present, reacted most quickly, already dashing toward the water’s edge.

The ladies in the waterside pavilion were all frightened, clutching their chests, all panicked except for Huang Zixia and Zhou Ziyan. Huang Zixia straightened up and looked outside the curtain, then heard Li Shubai’s voice, calm and gentle: “Let’s go take a look.”

She nodded slightly and lifted the curtain to descend the steps.

Behind her, her aunt who had come with her was anxious, hurriedly asking through the curtain: “Zixia, where are you going?”

“I’m going to look at the deceased.” Huang Zixia gave her a slight bow, then immediately turned to walk quickly toward the calamus grove.

Her aunt stomped her foot behind her: “You’re a young lady, what are you doing looking at corpses…”

Huang Zixia ignored her and continued striding quickly to the scene.

Zhou Ziqin was crouching among the calamus, examining a woman’s body lying face down. The head was submerged in water, shoulders, and chest barely visible beneath the surface, waist on the muddy ground, both hands thrust forward into the mud and water, having died in this awkward and strange position.

“Chonggu, come quickly and look at this body!” When Zhou Ziqin was at his wit’s end, seeing her arrive, he quickly waved her over. He was still used to calling her Yang Chonggu, seeming unable to accept the fact that she was a woman.

Huang Zixia walked to the corpse’s feet, finding that the ground ahead was soft mud, inconvenient for her silk shoes and pleated skirt, so she stood still, taking a lantern from a nearby constable’s hand and shining it toward the body.

The deceased was a somewhat plump woman, her hair styled in a lily bun, now covered in mud, her clothes so covered in silt that their original appearance was completely indiscernible.

Zhou Ziqin turned her over, pulling out those hands sunk in the muddy water and washing them clean.

The woman was around eighteen or nineteen years old, with fair skin and regular features, likely quite pretty when alive. Her hands were long and slender, though now covered in countless small scratches from the mud, plus a fresh scrape extending from the back of her hand down to below the knuckle of her index finger.

Huang Zixia slowly raised the lantern, looking again at the woman’s face, seeing traces of white lead powder remaining on her face, and said, “Ziqin, go call the manager of tonight’s music troupe to identify if she’s one of theirs.”

“Oh! Bitao! What a terrible death!” The music troupe manager broke down crying, tears and mucus flowing, his face twisted unbearably.

Zhou Ziqin asked, “She’s from your troupe?”

“Yes, Bitao is one of ours. After she arrived here with everyone else, she said it was still early and went to walk around the garden, but hadn’t returned by performance time! Fortunately, Yu Li who came with her also knew the ‘Rainbow Feather Dress,’ so we let Yu Li substitute for her.”

Huang Zixia looked toward Yu Li, seeing she was petite, covering her face and crying, wailing between sobs: “Master, master…”

While she was still observing, Zhou Ziqin had already moved closer, saying, “Chonggu, this case is difficult!”

Huang Zixia glanced at him: “How so?”

“Look, there are many suspicious points! First, the deceased died face-down in the water, the cause of death should be someone grabbing her hair and pressing her face into the water to drown, but this deceased Bitao’s hair, though somewhat disheveled, shows absolutely no signs of being grabbed.”

Huang Zixia nodded.

Seeing she didn’t object, Zhou Ziqin became energized, immediately continuing with the second suspicious point: “Second, the killer who pressed her head into the water must have been crouching or kneeling beside her, but there were no footprints beside her body. Could the person have been crouching on top of her? How could they apply force that way?”

Huang Zixia thought briefly, asking, “So how do you think we should proceed?”

“I think we should first check everyone’s shoes and clothes. Anyone with mud or wetness should be detained for questioning, with strong men being the focus.”

Huang Zixia countered: “Didn’t you say there were no footprints at the scene?”

“Well… maybe they found some way to eliminate them?”

Huang Zixia crouched down, using her lantern to illuminate Bitao, rolling up her sleeve and pointing to her wrist, asking, “Do you see these marks?”

Zhou Ziqin nodded, saying, “Probably scratched by sand or stones in the mud.”

“Besides the marks from sand and stones?”

Zhou Ziqin looked very carefully, then pointed to that long thin scratch extending from the wrist to the base of the index finger, saying, “This one… seems different.”

Huang Zixia tilted her head to look at him, gesturing for him to think further: “Speculate, why would there be such a scratch, how was it made?”

Zhou Ziqin exclaimed, saying, “Someone took something off her wrist! Must have scratched her when they did it.”

“Mm…” Huang Zixia nodded, then turned to ask the music troupe manager, “Was Bitao your troupe’s second konghou player?”

The manager immediately nodded, saying, “That’s right!”

“So tonight Yu Li substituted for Bitao playing the second konghou?”

“Yes, the Rainbow Feather Dress uses two konghou, Bitao played the second one. There’s no solo part, just accompaniment, that’s why we dared to let Yu Li substitute.”

Huang Zixia turned her gaze to the weeping Yu Li, saying slowly, “So, I think Miss Yu Li should explain why she killed her master, don’t you think?”

Her sudden words left everyone in the music troupe stunned. Yu Li covered her face, crying painfully, exclaiming, “I… why me? I’m wrongly accused…”

Zhou Ziqin was shocked, turning to see Huang Zixia’s expression was certain, then circled Yu Li dubiously, coming back to whisper in Huang Zixia’s ear: “Chonggu, are you sure? Her clothes are clean, no mud on her shoes, just a bit of mud on her sleeves. Besides, she’s much smaller than Bitao, and those hands don’t look strong enough – there’s no sign she could have held the victim underwater!”

Without a word, Huang Zixia walked to Yu Li’s side and rolled up her sleeve.

Below the sleeve cuff was a gold armband wound five or six times around her wrist.

Several musicians nearby immediately cried out: “That’s Bitao’s gold armband! She was showing it off to us just days ago, saying it was given to her by that talented scholar Chen Lunyun!”

Yu Li instinctively clutched the arm wearing the gold band to her chest, but seeing everyone staring at her, could only cry anxiously: “This… my master lent it to me…”

“Is that so? Your master was very kind to you, not only disappearing at such an important moment to give you an opportunity but also lending you the gold armband someone else gave her – but seems to have forgotten one thing.”

Huang Zixia’s gaze turned to the troupe manager: “Is your troupe usually this lax? Allowing jewelry during performances?”

The manager hurried to say: “This… we’ve repeatedly emphasized, told every musician when they first start learning, absolutely no jewelry when playing plucked instruments, no dangling earrings or long hanging ornaments when playing wind instruments. So even if they usually wear them, they must remove them before performing to avoid affecting the performance.”

“Yes, if it were a bracelet or chain, perhaps it could be quietly hidden in one’s clothes. However, a gold armband, if tucked away, would create an obvious bulge, immediately noticeable. Moreover, her master had just died and the armband appeared on her arm – wouldn’t that prove even more that she was the killer? So the only option was to wear it on her wrist. Fortunately, pushing it up, the hanging sleeves could hide it,” Huang Zixia said, lowering her hand, continuing, “So you ignored the rule about no jewelry during performances because this was the only way to hide the armband. Unfortunately, your luck wasn’t good – you happened to encounter the Prince of Kui, and during the performance, accidentally let the armband hit the konghou strings, which he heard.”

Li Shubai and others had arrived and were listening to her solve the case. He now said, “Indeed, it was near the end of the middle movement when I heard a metallic discord from the second konghou, which must be what Miss Huang based her deduction on.”

Everyone’s gaze toward Li Shubai instantly filled with amazement. The second konghou was for harmony, not the main melody, its sound hidden behind more than twenty other instruments. No one imagined he could identify which instrument had made the strange sound from just one note.

Some also looked admiringly at Huang Zixia, able to quickly deduce the killer from such sparse clues.

Someone from the music troupe said: “I remember now, when we were taking our seats and couldn’t find Bitao, Yu Li went to look for her, then came back saying she couldn’t find her – was that when she drowned Bitao in the water?”

“But something’s not right,” the troupe manager said with a grief-stricken face, asking, “Yu Li is so petite, where would she get such strength? Could she really drown Bitao in the water by herself, then return calmly?”

Yu Li nodded desperately, crying, “Yes, I just admired master’s gold arm band and she took it off to let me wear it for a while, I… I was just wearing her arm band, how did I become a murderer?”

“How could such a delicate woman kill someone? And how could she quickly eliminate all traces?” Zhou Ziqin also nodded, saying, “Chonggu, shouldn’t we be more careful and investigate further?”

“No need, I can demonstrate how it happened right now,” Huang Zixia said, looking Zhou Ziqin over, saying, “Constable Zhou, please help me find someone willing to assist.”

Zhou Ziqin patted his chest: “No need for anyone else, I’ll do it.”

Huang Zixia blinked, looking him up and down again. Zhou Ziqin had been invited to celebrate the festival today, so wasn’t wearing his official uniform. He wore a lake-blue Shu brocade robe with rose-red floral patterns, a bright yellow belt at his waist, hung with a purple sachet, green purse, silver sharkskin knife… altogether more than ten colors from head to toe.

Huang Zixia immediately felt this person desperately needed to be dunked in water – best if it could wash away all these bright, eye-piercing colors.

“Alright.” She waved briefly at him, then took the gold arm band from Yu Li’s wrist and walked with Zhou Ziqin to the calamus field by the lake.

She gestured for Zhou Ziqin to raise his hand, then said: “The weather’s getting a bit cold, wonder if going in the water now would be cold?”

Zhou Ziqin didn’t understand her meaning, only saying: “That time in Chang’an when I helped you retrieve a body from the water should have been colder than today… but do I need to go in the water now?”

“Wait a moment.” As she spoke, she raised the gold arm band taken from Yu Li, then threw it forward. With a “plop,” the shallow water stirred up silt, and the object had been thrown into the water.

Zhou Ziqin looked at her in surprise, asking: “Why did you throw the gold arm band in the water?”

Huang Zixia said: “Why don’t you retrieve it?”

Zhou Ziqin suddenly understood, hurrying into the calamus, but halfway there discovered his foot almost sinking into soft mud, so hesitated.

Huang Zixia looked back at Li Shubai, who understood, walking over to grab Zhou Ziqin’s wrist, saying: “I’ll hold onto you.”

“Good!” Zhou Ziqin immediately gripped his hand, feet on the muddy ground, body leaning forward, reaching toward where the silt had been stirred up.

Huang Zixia gave Li Shubai a look, and Li Shubai cast a sympathetic glance at the innocent Zhou Ziqin, then suddenly released his hand. Zhou Ziqin was already leaning forward, and immediately fell forward.

Just as Zhou Ziqin was about to cry out, muddy water rushed into his mouth. As he thrashed about wildly, Li Shubai grabbed his ankles from behind, and he immediately fell face-down in the mud. With his ankles held up, he had lost all bodily control, and his hands could find no purchase in the mud – even knowing how to swim was useless. A series of bubbles large and small rose up as he choked and became confused.

Li Shubai quickly pulled him out. He had already swallowed several mouthfuls of water, sitting collapsed among the calamus, spitting out muddy water like a crab.

Huang Zixia brought him a towel, crouching beside him to look at him, asking: “Ziqin, are you alright?”

While wiping his hair, he sneezed miserably, saying: “I’m… I’m fine… but I haven’t retrieved the gold arm band yet.”

“I’m sorry, Ziqin,” Huang Zixia removed the gold arm band from her own arm, saying, “Think about it – if the arm band had really been thrown in the water, how could the killer retrieve it? There were no footprints on the body, so I’m certain the killer used the same trick I did, pretending to throw the gold arm band but actually throwing a stone or something similar – the mud would stir up immediately anyway, making the victim unable to see clearly what had fallen in the water, only knowing something had fallen there.”

Zhou Ziqin nodded in sudden understanding, saying: “So that’s how it was…”

Nearby, Magistrate Zhou Xiang watched his son, nearly crying with distress. But since it was the Prince of Kui who had done it, he could only force a bitter smile and instruct those beside him: “Quickly bring some clothes for the constable to change into.”

Huang Zixia turned to look at Yu Li, who had collapsed on the ground. Huang Zixia said slowly: “It was the mud marks on your sleeve that made me think of this method of killing. Although you must have tried hard to scrape off the dried mud afterward, a faint mark still remained, and this mark happened to match the outline of her shoe edge. Think about it – besides this way, how else could mud from her shoe edge get onto your arm?”

Yu Li’s face was ashen, her throat dry, unable to make more than a hoarse sound.

Zhou Xiang vented all his resentment on her, ordering the constables behind him to pull her up: “Such a conscienceless wretch who betrays her teacher, take her back and question her thoroughly!”

Several sisters from the music troupe watched her, tears flowing, saying: “Yu Li, why did you have to be so desperate…”

“It’s… heaven’s injustice!” Yu Li screamed in despair as she was dragged away, “How am I any different from her? She was so stupid, taking over ten years to become second konghou! While I could play better than her just from watching! She was only prettier than me, why did she have to step on my head every day…”

Huang Zixia sighed softly, saying: “If you were a pearl, your brilliance would naturally be discovered. Why resort to such extremes?”

Seeing her speak, the constables holding Yu Li paused. Yu Li’s gaze fixed on Bitao’s corpse, tears falling in streams as she choked out: “She… she bullied me every day, I could endure that, but she knew I admired Young Master Chen, yet she still deliberately clung to him, flaunting the gold arm band he gave her in front of me…”

Her eyes were covered with a layer of deathly gray as they turned to Huang Zixia’s face: “I… I had planned this over and over for several months, thinking it would surely be foolproof… but I never expected that before you, there were flaws everywhere, visible at a glance…”

Huang Zixia remained silent, watching the constables take her away.

Behind her, Zhou Ziqin wiped his freshly washed hair, sighing: “This girl really lost her way.”

Huang Zixia looked back at him, nodding silently, saying softly: “Bitao, Yu Li. Such similar names, they must have entered the music troupe together. But now one became favored by the manager and rose to prominence, while the other was called a disciple but treated as a servant. When they went about together, they naturally both met Chen Lunyun, famous for his romantic nature. This delicate relationship maintained until now, and then…”

Her gaze fell on the gold arm band.

“The gold arm band Chen Lunyun gave to Bitao became the last straw that broke Yu Li.”

“Indeed, in this world, emotional entanglements hurt people the most.” A voice came slowly from behind, controlled carefully so she could hear clearly but others could not.

This gentle, warm voice made Huang Zixia pause before turning to look at him.

Wang Yun was right behind her, clearly having been there the whole time, watching her solve the entire case before finally speaking.

His gaze was dark under the lanterns at this moment, carrying a subtle gleam as he gazed deeply at her. Under his gaze, Huang Zixia felt empty inside and unconsciously lowered her head.

He spoke lightly, as if nothing was wrong: “In this world, everyone has their own destiny and place. Why always desire things that don’t belong to you, only causing unnecessary trouble? In the end, it only hurts others and yourself.”

She felt her heart suddenly tremble, and though she understood his meaning, she had no strength to argue, could only quietly lower her head, saying nothing.

The round moon tilted westward, past the third watch.

Such an ending to a grand feast left Fan Yingxi looking very embarrassed. Fortunately, Huang Zixia had quickly uncovered the truth, amazing everyone so much that even the captivating “Rainbow Feather Dress Dance” was forgotten.

Everyone left the Fan residence, returning home. Huang Zixia and her aunt got into their carriage when she heard someone calling from behind: “Zixia.”

Huang Zixia turned to see Wang Yun smiling beneath the lanterns at the gate, looking up at her in the carriage, saying softly: “I will visit your clan tomorrow to discuss some matters. If you have time then, we might exchange a few words.”

Huang Zixia’s body stiffened slightly, and she lowered her head to bow to him, saying nothing as she turned to gently lower the carriage curtain.

As her carriage departed, the gentle smile disappeared from Wang Yun’s face. He stood motionless, gazing at the deep blue night sky where the bright moon was setting in the west, making the stars appear even more brilliant.

In this world, things beyond reach always seem to shine brighter. Or perhaps, it is because they shine too brightly that they seem impossible to reach.

Just like the woman he once thought was within his grasp had now become the most dazzling star in the distant Heavenly River. That brilliant light burned in his heart, making him toss and turn each day, constantly thinking of her, unable to bear it.

He turned to mount his horse, preparing to return to the Wang family. A branch of the Langya Wang family had moved to Sichuan and had considerable business here; as a descendant of the main family line, naturally no one dared slight him.

His horse seemed somewhat sleepy too, taking slow steps. Hearing the sound of golden bells, he knew without turning that the Prince of Kui’s carriage was passing by, so he guided his horse to the side.

On the dark street, only one dim light burned at a corner. Li Shubai had lifted his carriage curtain and called out: “Yunzhi.”

Wang Yun nodded in greeting: “Your Highness.”

“This Mid-Autumn Festival, the excitement at the Commissioner’s residence still leaves me wanting more. I recently acquired some excellent tea – Yunzhi, would you be interested in trying it by lamplight with me?”

Wang Yun smiled composedly, saying: “The days are short and nights long, why not enjoy them by candlelight? Since Your Highness is in such an elegant mood, how dare I refuse?”

Li Shubai said nothing more, gesturing for him to follow. Soon they reached Dunchun Pavilion, where Li Shubai was currently staying.

Dunchun Pavilion had originally been planned as a temporary palace when Emperor Xuanzong fled to Sichuan to escape the An-Shi Rebellion. However, before the palace was completed, he had been honored as Emperor Emeritus by Emperor Suzong and taken back to Chang’an, leaving behind the planned Dunchun Palace. The local government had reduced its scale, completed its construction, renamed it a pavilion, and made it into an official garden. Now that the Prince of Kui had arrived, officials had quickly renovated it for his temporary residence.

Wang Yun followed Li Shubai into Chunhua Hall. After tea was served, everyone withdrew, even Zhang Xingying was dismissed.

The palace lamps shone brightly on them as both men, knowing each other’s thoughts but unwilling to speak them, tacitly discussed some trivial court matters. Such as how Princess Tongchang had recently been entombed, with a funeral procession stretching over twenty li, and though some court officials said the funeral exceeded proper ceremony, the Emperor still posthumously honored her as Princess Weiguo Wenyi and personally wept with Consort Guo Shu at the palace gates to see her off, after which no one dared remonstrate further.

“What of the Imperial Physicians’ families?” Wang Yun asked. Because of Tongchang’s death, the Emperor had blamed the Imperial Physicians for failing to save her. After executing Han Zongshao, Kang Zhongyin and several other Imperial Physicians, he had also imprisoned over three hundred of their family members. Li Shubai had pointed out there was no precedent for this in Tang law and the Court of Judicial Review refused to handle it, so the Emperor had transferred the case to Metropolitan Prefecture Chief Wen Zhang, ordering him to implement collective punishment.

“The Censorate dare not speak up, and when Grand Councillor Liu Zhan personally pleaded with His Majesty, he was rebuked and dismissed, demoted to Lingnan. Wen Zhang sentenced those three hundred people to exile, but was recently accused of taking bribes to give light sentences. I don’t think His Majesty will let it go easily,” Li Shubai spoke casually of these matters – though he was in Sichuan, he naturally knew court developments earlier than anyone else.

Wang Yun sighed: “Court affairs turn like wind and clouds, such turbulence is truly unpredictable.”

Li Shubai casually took up a tea cup to prepare tea for him, smiling: “Though the court is now full of changing winds and clouds, everything is still within my expectations, except for one thing that puzzles me no matter how much I think about it.”

Li Shubai led contemporary fashion in the capital, being skilled at preparing tea, playing cuju and polo, and his tea foam was even and delicate, slow to disperse. Wang Yun held the cup with three fingers to examine and appreciate it, asking: “What matter could Your Highness find unpredictable?”

“I still remember, autumn three years ago, shortly after I had made my name, by Qujiang Pool where we first met. I thought then you would take the imperial examinations the following year, but instead you had heard I was going to the frontier to resist the Uighurs and wanted to join my military campaign.”

The Langya Wang family had always been refined civil officials, so Li Shubai was very surprised at the time and asked: “Why join the military? With your family background and support, you would surely thrive at court.”

“I don’t want to walk the broad road others have paved for me. Perhaps walking the path my ancestors deliberately avoided might be more interesting.”

In the bright autumn sun of that time, Wang Yun was still young, but his expression seemed to already see the far shore his life would eventually reach.

His name appeared among the escort guards Li Shubai reported to the court. In mid-autumn, they reached the desert’s edge, gazing thousand li across the frontier from the beacon tower. In the withered grass and slanting sun, solitary smoke rose straight up, the long river winding below.

They rode horses through the desert on campaign, pursuing invading Uighur forces. Once, caught up in the chase until moonrise, several dozen riders returned to camp bloodied in the night. In the eighth month of the barbarian lands, snow already flew. The waning moon still hung at the sky’s edge as snow began falling thickly in the desert, iron armor’s cold gleam chilling to the bone. Li Shubai, riding at the front, looked back and slowed his pace, untying his wine flask and tossing it to Wang Yun from afar.

One mouthful of strong wine set all the blood burning hot. As the cold dispersed, flush with victory, the group’s spirits were exceptionally high, joyfully singing with hoarse voices in the barren wilderness.

Wang Yun couldn’t join their singing, only rode looking at the sky as he followed them back to camp. The camp was visible in the distance, its entrance marked by a white elm tree barely discernible in the snow. Wang Yun brushed snow from his body and, suddenly moved, recited: “Snow flies over mountain passes, beacon fires break with no smoke.”

“So after that victory over the Uighurs and triumphant return to the capital, I never took you to battle again,” Li Shubai said slowly. “Everyone has their own place, and in your life, you are the refined eldest son of the Langya Wang family in an age of peace and prosperity. A peerless sword, no matter how sharp, is no match on the battlefield for the commonest blade. Sand and blood would only wear away its edge, perhaps even breaking such fine material.”

Wang Yun lowered his eyes silently, saying: “But that time following Your Highness gave the blade its edge. After that, I took this path, even if only from the Imperial Guards to the Left Golden Tiger Guards, at least escaping the path my fathers arranged for me. In this life… I will always be grateful for Your Highness’s guidance.”

“I know you speak sincerely, but in this world, some things are beyond our control. For instance, since you accepted the mission to kill me, you must fulfill your duty and seek my death.” Li Shubai spoke leisurely, as if only discussing the night view outside.

Wang Yun’s expression froze slightly, his fingers holding the teacup involuntarily tightening. The cup tilted, its foam not yet dispersed, two or three drops spilling out.

He slowly set down the teacup and looked up at Li Shubai.

The dark night was silent, osmanthus fragrance faint. That first day by Qujiang Pool was also amid such osmanthus fragrance when he bowed to Li Shubai, saying: “Wang Yun of Langya, style name Yunzhi. From today, I wish to follow Your Highness in riding across the realm, protecting the Tang dynasty’s realm.”

Those words still echoed, yet now they sat facing each other in the night under such circumstances.

Wang Yun slowly set down his teacup, looking up at Li Shubai, a forced smile appearing on his face: “As your subject, Wang Yun acts under orders, with no choice. Please understand, Your Highness.”

Seeing him admit it so frankly, Li Shubai returned the smile, saying: “If I truly minded, why would I have stopped Zixia from questioning further last time? I understand my situation, and yours. What I would not want done to me, I do not do to others.”

Wang Yun nodded silently. His thoughts caught on the word “Zixia,” hearing him speak his fiancée’s name so intimately, he hesitated momentarily. But then he understood – how could someone like Li Shubai speak carelessly?

As if seeing his thoughts, Li Shubai said quietly: “When you accepted this mission, you should have known it was a plan to kill two birds with one stone. If I die, the court removes its greatest hidden danger; if the plot is exposed, the Wang family will be implicated. Either way, the planner can watch the tigers fight from the mountain, paving the way for their next move.”

“So Your Highness… suppressed this matter, not wanting it known, also to… avoid mutual destruction?”

“Aren’t you the same?” Li Shubai’s voice paused slightly, then continued, “I know the arson wasn’t your doing – that kind of massacre isn’t your style.”

Wang Yun said softly: “I knew of it… but couldn’t stop it.”

“You couldn’t stop it. Anyone who tries to block it will be crushed to powder. Liu Zhan was, Wen Zhang was, and we will be too.” Li Shubai’s face, which seemed eternally calm and steady, finally showed a trace of weariness.

He gazed at Wang Yun before him, saying softly: “Now that you haven’t completed his assigned task and I’ve discovered your identity, the Wang family may face trouble – but I can help you.”

Wang Yun slowly nodded, saying: “Your Highness’s word is gold, never empty. However… I want to know, what do you want the Wang family… or me, to do?”

Li Shubai was silent for a long time.

Deep in the night, all was quiet. On such an autumn night, time seemed frozen, all beauty and ugliness vanishing into darkness.

After who knows how long in silence, he finally made his decision and spoke: “Give up an old engagement.”

An old engagement.

The girl he had shyly gone with Li Run to peek at when he was fifteen – her profile as she turned her head flashed briefly before his eyes, so dreamlike.

That was the marriage arranged for him since childhood. A piece of paper, two names – she was a stranger who would become his closest person.

But now, Li Shubai said, give up.

He lowered his head, letting out an involuntary cold laugh. He said: “Prince of Kui, you truly know how to assess the situation and plan perfectly. You know the Wang family’s survival now hangs on my word, yet you still put on this generous pose of letting me choose.”

“Yunzhi, in this I have wronged you,” Li Shubai lowered his eyes, unconsciously turning the teacup in his hands, saying slowly, “But have you considered – Zixia once exposed Empress Wang’s past affairs, how could she live in your family after marriage?”

Wang Yun laughed coldly: “As my wife, I would protect her completely – why should Your Highness worry?”

“Then, if after your assassination attempt fails, I go directly to the capital to see the Emperor, what then?” Li Shubai asked calmly, “Could your Wang family escape that disaster? Even if you want to protect her, how could you?”

Wang Yun said slowly: “The chances of the Wang family’s destruction can’t be greater than the Prince of Kui’s mansion, right?”

Li Shubai spoke coldly: “The Prince of Kui’s mansion has the strength to resist, the Wang family does not.”

The hall fell silent again, heavy night enveloping them, the bright yet oppressive lamplight showing the complex expressions in each other’s eyes, deep and dark, difficult to fathom.

Tea smoke curled up, tracing various illusory shapes in the air before dissipating into nothing.

After a long while, Wang Yun finally said softly: “Since Your Highness already knows the whole truth, I won’t hide anything more. Why do you think the person behind this is moving now, regardless of everything, trying to quickly eliminate anything they can’t control?”

Li Shubai lowered his eyes and said quietly: “Perhaps because of the recent earthquake in Jiangnan, some say the court will see upheaval. Acting now would take advantage of heaven’s timing, earth’s advantage, and human affairs.”

“Then what does Your Highness plan to do next? Have you considered what might happen to Zixia at your side? Do you really think you can protect her completely in such a situation?” Wang Yun stared at him, his voice very low but exceptionally clear, enunciating each word: “Though Your Highness is naturally gifted and strategically brilliant, before matters of state and family, lives are like grass, let alone a mere orphaned girl. Sometimes, the slightest difference might break a cluster of orchids.”

“I will protect her completely.” Li Shubai looked down at the crystal cup on the small table. A bright red fish rested quietly at the bottom, unknown if sleeping or watching them, motionless like a drop of blood sunken in water.

“There are some things I must resolve, see the truth with my own eyes. But you’re right, perhaps once I go, I may never return. So I will arrange things properly, not let her risk danger with me.”

Wang Yun felt anger surge in his chest, wanted to retort, but finally controlled himself and said: “Yet Your Highness had already decided, bringing up breaking the engagement with me from the start – it seems Your Highness already has a plan?”

“No, in fact I have no certainty about my own future,” Li Shubai’s finger lightly touched the water’s surface in the crystal cup, “I just want to give her freedom.”

The small fish at the bottom startled, its tail swaying left and right, wanting to escape these dangerous ripples. But as waves echoed in the crystal cup, it had nowhere to hide, could only endure alone.

Wang Yun stood suddenly, his voice becoming sharp: “Does Your Highness mean Zixia would have no freedom or happiness at my side?”

Li Shubai silently raised his eyes to look at him, watching this spring breeze-like man finally lose his usual calm for Huang Zixia’s sake. He couldn’t help smiling, calling out: “Yunzhi, calm yourself.”

Seeing his rare smile, Wang Yun froze, could only sit down awkwardly, saying stiffly: “I was discourteous… please forgive me, Your Highness.”

“You misunderstand my meaning. Actually, I just want to give Zixia a chance to choose freely. Whether she chooses you or me, she won’t be bound. And to put you and me on equal footing…” Li Shubai’s smiling gaze slowly moved from him to outside the window. Heavy tree shadows crouched silently in the night, like lurking monsters, like nightmare-eating dream beasts. “I will return to the capital soon, that assassination attempt will be forgotten, I don’t know who the mastermind and leader were, and the Wang family can dispel that storm.”

Wang Yun lowered his eyes in silence, only raising his chin slightly.

Li Shubai poured him another cup of tea, the emerald liquid filling the blue-green porcelain cup, lamplight shining on his long white fingers, graceful as spring water and pear blossoms.

He smiled, saying: “Yunzhi, don’t you have confidence in yourself? Do you think without that marriage contract binding her, Zixia wouldn’t choose you?”

Seeing his leisurely, self-assured manner, Wang Yun felt a surge of heat in his chest, and unable to suppress it, he took the teacup from Li Shubai, saying: “I wish Your Highness a smooth journey north. I will handle matters here quickly to prevent Your Highness from worrying about matters behind.”