The wind sweeps away all clear clouds, leaving ten thousand miles of frost in the empty sky.

The group passed through the Heluo region, with the road to Youzhou turning northward. Along the way, the towering peaks of the Taihang Mountains rose on the left, while the vast Heshuo Great Plain stretched endlessly on the right.

Passing through checkpoints into Weizhou, they entered the territory of one of the three powerful Heshuo military governors – the Weibo domain. Since the Tianbao Rebellion, this area had been controlled by former generals of An Lushan and Shi Siming, maintaining independence from the court. A folk saying went: “The Son of Heaven in Chang’an, the tooth soldiers of Weibo.” The fierce personal troops under the military governor could even rival the emperor’s authority.

Bao Zhu had expected regions occupied by disloyal ministers to be desolate and filled with suffering people. But what she saw and heard along the way was completely unexpected.

In the Heshuo region, far from the Guanzhong area, though lacking magnificent metropolises like Chang’an and Luyang, the towns appeared quite rustic. Yet looking across the fertile fields, ridges stretched to the horizon with dense populations. Only the workers in the fields were mostly elderly and women, with able-bodied men serving in military camps.

Gazing at the wisps of cooking smoke from distant villages, Bao Zhu contemplated silently: the Heshuo region possessed vast fertile lands with level, open terrain. Grain production must far exceed that of the capital region. Being able to support more armies with strong soldiers and horses, they had the strength to constantly compete with the court, forming a three-way standoff.

“Fangxie, we’d better stop and rest at the village ahead for a while. We’re running out of dry rations.” Yang Xingjian’s respectful voice came from the rumbling ox cart.

Hearing this, Bao Zhu turned and asked: “Didn’t we just buy ten fresh sesame cakes this morning when we set out?”

Yang Xingjian replied with a bitter smile: “Not a single one remains.”

Shisan Lang rubbed his bald head with its newly sprouting stubble, looking embarrassed: “Sorry, I ate four of them.”

Upon hearing this, Bao Zhu’s cheeks grew warm. She recalled that nameless sesame cake stall by the roadside – when fresh from the oven, the cakes were crispy and fragrant, too hot to hold. She had sat at the stall and eaten two on the spot. During their midway water break, feeling a bit peckish, she had eaten two more as snacks with pickled celery.

Yang Xingjian mused privately: folk wisdom held that “a half-grown boy eats his father into poverty.” Being advanced in age with a poor appetite himself, while the little monk was at a growing age and walked all day, eating more was expected. Who would have thought the princess’s appetite was equally astonishing – she had gracefully consumed four cakes in one breakfast, and excluding side dishes, the flour alone must have weighed over a jin and a half.

“The secretary ate one, leaving only one…” Bao Zhu sat on her donkey, her gaze quietly falling on Wei Xun who was leading the reins.

Having endured the trials of the Guanyin Slave case, everyone had become much thinner. On the road, she and Shisan Lang’s appetites had greatly increased, quickly returning toward their former physiques. Only Wei Xun ate extremely little, showing no signs of recovery.

This young wandering knight was like a parasol tree thinned by the northern wind, his silhouette always upright and straight. A coarse cloth scarf wrapped around his neck, covering half his face. His words and actions seemed no different from usual, yet somehow Bao Zhu always felt something was different about him, as if he harbored some worry and felt inexplicably anxious.

The weather grew increasingly cold. Wei Xun rose early and slept late daily, constantly urging his companions to quicken their pace, saying they needed to reach Youzhou before severe winter arrived. Learning from the Luoyang lesson, at the slightest disturbance on the road, he would even arrange for everyone to travel by day and rest by night to avoid attention. Yang Xingjian, with his inconvenient legs and insufficient stamina, complained several times that it felt like fleeing disaster.

Noticing Bao Zhu’s watching gaze, Wei Xun looked back and said: “I ate three, two of which were leftover from yesterday.”

Hearing this, Bao Zhu looked thoughtful but remained silent.

Entering Xiangzhou territory, after hurrying all day, they finally reached Dangyin County at dusk, managing to enter before the city gates closed and finding temporary lodging at an inn. The establishment was small and crude with no refined food, only pickled cucumbers as a side dish. Yang Xingjian saw several scrawny chickens in the courtyard and ordered the cook to slaughter one, also preparing a large pot of soup noodles.

The innkeeper took the opportunity to promote muddy wine, but Wei Xun, who usually loved drinking, didn’t respond. Everyone hurriedly filled their stomachs.

After the meal, Wei Xun inquired about road conditions ahead as usual, asking the innkeeper about bandits, robber soldiers, or wild tigers and bears that might have come down from the mountains. Bao Zhu negotiated prices with the washerwoman, handing over dirty clothes to be cleaned and dried, then called the cook aside for a few quiet words.

Before extinguishing lamps for rest, Bao Zhu beckoned and called Wei Xun alone to her room to talk. Seeing her unsmiling, serious expression, Wei Xun immediately reflected on any mistakes he might have made that day. Aside from catching a cricket and throwing it into her quiver to tease and refresh her spirits when the donkey and riders were weary that afternoon, nothing seemed particularly excessive.

“I don’t like being deceived by others,” the girl said solemnly.

Wei Xun’s heart grew anxious, not knowing what she meant, his gaze wandering as he remained silent.

Bao Zhu frowned: “Still won’t admit it? Those two leftover cakes from yesterday – I got hungry in the middle of the night, quietly got up and ate them as a midnight snack. Are you claiming to feed on wind and drink dew?”

Only then did Wei Xun understand that his casual words from during the day had been exposed. He could only mutter quietly: “A horse without night grass doesn’t grow fat. Your appetite is really impressive. I imagine when we reach our destination, no one will blame me for skimping on your travel expenses and meals…”

Before he finished speaking, Bao Zhu said sternly: “Stop changing the subject! Did I skimp on your meals? You’ve been eating so little recently – has your condition worsened?”

Wei Xun knew she was sharp-eyed and perceptive, very difficult to fool. He could only quietly explain: “It’s an old ailment. Since it’s gotten cold, it will naturally ease when spring comes.”

Bao Zhu remained half-convinced. Seeing him wearing his scarf from morning to night, never willing to remove it, she privately reasoned that if it was an innate cold syndrome, being afraid of cold made sense. Recalling that Wei Xun never wore a head wrap like a vagrant, she said: “There’s a wind hat of mine in the luggage. Take it to wear for now. With my thick hair, an extra layer would just get in the way.”

Wei Xun smiled: “I’d also find it bothersome. It would cover my ears and I wouldn’t hear subtle sounds.”

After talking for a while, Bao Zhu turned to lift the gauze cover from the table, revealing a bowl filled with amber-colored thick soup with various ingredients at the bottom. She touched the bowl’s rim and said: “Perfect timing after our chat – it’s no longer hot. Drink it quickly while it’s still warm.”

A rich, pungent aroma came from the bowl. Once bitten by a snake, ten years afraid of rope – the hair on Wei Xun’s neck stood up as he took a step back, asking warily: “What is this?”

Bao Zhu said delightedly: “Ginseng from Shangdang that I ordered in Luoyang. I originally planned to have it prepared in Youzhou, but since you’ve started falling ill, might as well take it now. Afraid the cook would cut corners, I stood by the stove personally watching him brew this ginseng soup. I also added all the remaining black pepper and warming dried ginger.”

Wei Xun immediately recalled that pharmacy called Rongqing Medicine Shop, sensing trouble as he urgently asked: “How much did it cost?!”

Bao Zhu had wanted to casually make up a number, but having just severely criticized him for lying, she felt too embarrassed to fabricate now, saying vaguely: “Fifty…”

“Fifty strings?!”

“Fifty… taels of gold.”

Bao Zhu confessed truthfully. Wei Xun was dumbstruck – this enormous sum could hire ten bodyguards for travel to Guangzhou. That greedy, unscrupulous pharmacy merchant had fooled her into a swindle. Now having reached Weibo territory, it was too late to return and settle accounts. Her habit of casual extravagance had improved considerably lately, learning to bargain and budget carefully, yet she had still dug such a huge pit waiting here.

Wei Xun regretted bitterly, thinking he should have seized all the certificates and gold and silver from Yang Xingjian to manage himself. He said angrily: “I’ve said many times that money should be spent where it counts most. If I robbed a wealthy household in the night to make up this loss, it wouldn’t be impossible, but who would watch over you?”

Bao Zhu showed no guilt, saying without hesitation: “You are my sharpest blade. If not spent on you, what else in the world is worthwhile?”

These words rang with decisive sincerity. Wei Xun was immediately stunned, his heartbeat suddenly accelerating, his hands flailing in confusion with nowhere to place them, momentarily speechless.

He thought privately: with such words, let alone pepper and ginseng soup, even poison wine and arsenic could not be refused in the slightest.

Wei Xun immediately reached for the bowl, tilted his head back and drained it in one gulp. Whatever was at the bottom – ginseng or ginger – he chewed and swallowed it all, his manner quite tragic.

Seeing him obediently drink the ginseng soup, Bao Zhu was delighted. She took his hands, finding them ice-cold, and warmed them between her palms.

“Don’t worry,” she said confidently, raising her chin. “No matter how rare the healing elixir might be – the three sacred mountains and five peaks, the four seas and eight wildernesses, even distant Japan or South Vietnam – I can send people to find and bring it back to save you.”

Wei Xun remained silent, an unhealthy flush rising on his pale face.

With his illness penetrating to the bone marrow, his daily condition recently approached his episodes: limbs stiff and cold, chill penetrating every pore into his bones, often too painful to sleep through the night. Even drinking no longer warmed him, so he had simply quit.

However, this bowl of ginseng soup was like swallowing a piece of dark red charcoal. The burning sensation rolled down his esophagus into his stomach, sparks exploding along his limbs and bones as his entire body began trembling.

When Bao Zhu was in the palace, she was accustomed to various precious tonics. But living in luxury and enjoying ready benefits, she didn’t know that one serving of ginseng soup used at most two or three qian of ginseng slices – this whole large root could last a month or two.

The cook was an honest country bumpkin who had never seen the world, unable to distinguish gold from earth. When the guest ordered him to brew medicinal soup, he agreed to do so, treating it like cooking old ginger soup – cutting the entire root and throwing it in the pot, reducing five bowls of water to one. This made the medicine a hundred times more concentrated than normal.

Bao Zhu felt Wei Xun’s hands trembling and asked puzzledly: “Are you cold?”

Wei Xun barely managed to open his mouth, his throat moving, his speech fragmented and unable to form complete sentences.

The inn was crude with drafts from doors and windows everywhere. Bao Zhu immediately opened her arms, stood on tiptoe, and gently embraced him, trying to transfer her body heat to him.

Usually, the two had endless conversation from morning to night, but now neither spoke. In Luoyang, they had also shared moments of constant companionship and tight embraces. But then it was after narrow escape from death, hearts filled only with grief and grievance. Today’s mood was completely different, containing indescribable tender affection.

Rapid breathing brushed past her ear – the tighter she held him, the more violently he trembled. Two wildly beating hearts pressed together through clothing, like two horses racing side by side, their hoof beats intensely intertwined, impossible to distinguish whose rhythm was whose.

Wei Xun was desperately thirsty and agitated. He secretly cursed that Luoyang swindler – cheating money was one thing, but the ginseng was genuinely real. In his current weakened state, he couldn’t withstand such heating tonic medicine. In his dazed state, he thought: the phoenix embryo wasn’t in the three sacred mountains and five peaks, nor in the four seas and eight wildernesses – it was right before his eyes, right in his arms.

Before him was the delicate skin of her neck, a snowy curve disappearing into the depths of her collar. He quickly closed his eyes, not daring to look further. But the beast in his heart refused to submit, struggling desperately to break free from his body. That beast wanted to devour this phoenix embryo, this living pearl, to ease the boiling heat threatening to burst through his skin.

But was this appropriate? Wei Xun dimly knew Bao Zhu was willing to actively approach him, but she seemed unaware of what this intimacy represented…

Desires long buried in his heart were stirred to the surface by that bowl of medicine. When the mind moves, the body follows – no longer controllable. Suddenly, he lowered his head, lips gently approaching her ear, opening his mouth to enclose her earlobe.

His mouth was cooler than hers, his exhaled breath carrying a chill. Bao Zhu was instantly stunned. Though not cold, she involuntarily began trembling as well. Somewhere deep in her body, it felt like a seed quietly breaking through soil – itchy, novel, and strange.

Wei Xun said nothing, embracing ever tighter, as if wanting to deeply embed her into his own body to express his devouring desire.

Bao Zhu felt breathing gradually becoming difficult. He gripped so tightly, his steel-like fingers sinking into the full flesh of her arms, body pressing against her with hairsbreadth precision, taut like a wall, so much so that the dagger hanging from his belt poked into her.

Though she liked Wei Xun’s fresh scent at his neck hollow and enjoyed intimate embraces, this overwhelmingly forceful pressure made Bao Zhu feel an unfamiliar threat. She pushed hard, trying to find a more comfortable position, but discovered she couldn’t move at all.

Bao Zhu wasn’t the type to silently endure discomfort with gentle temperament. Since she couldn’t move, she simply mimicked him, raising her head to bite his thin ear with moderate force.

Wei Xun’s expression went blank for an instant. He trembled violently, his arms instinctively tightening further. Bao Zhu felt like she was being crushed, crying out “Ai!” in pain. He immediately awakened, realizing he had gone too far, and quickly loosened his hold.

Anticipating that the medicine’s effects would spread and he would certainly hurt her without restraint, Wei Xun panicked and broke into cold sweat. Knowing he must leave immediately, he hastily made up an excuse: “I… I… the donkey… the donkey hasn’t been fed yet!”

With that, he rushed toward the door in one bound, but encountered resistance when opening it. After pulling twice with the door unmoved, it seemed someone had locked it.

Bao Zhu watched him like a wildcat being chased by dogs, frantically hunched over clawing at the door. Bewildered, she was about to remind him he was feeling in the wrong direction when Wei Xun had already reached into the door gap and forcibly pried the door panel from its hinges.

He held the detached door panel in a daze for a moment, then turned and stepped backward over the threshold, standing outside to roughly stuff the panel back into the frame, barely setting it in place.

“Sleep quickly, we still need to rise early tomorrow for travel…” Leaving this perfunctory remark, his figure hurriedly disappeared.

Bao Zhu rubbed her numb arms, completely confused. Originally pitying his suffering during illness and inability to eat, wanting to keep him close for warmth, yet this person behaved so strangely for unknown reasons – absolutely baffling. After a moment of puzzlement, Bao Zhu suddenly remembered all the silk stockings had been given to the washerwoman for cleaning, so tonight indeed wasn’t suitable for keeping company. She gave up on this and blew out the lamp to sleep.

Author’s Note: “The wind sweeps away all clear clouds, leaving ten thousand miles of frost in the empty sky.” – Yuan Zhen