The jailer said: “Replying to Duke, replying to Eunuch Ma, this matter is actually a misunderstanding. When the person was sent in, they only said to interrogate. But for such a major case, if interrogation is needed, how could torture not be used? Finger-crushing torture was used for several days. Later Lord Yan from the Imperial Censorate came and learned of this matter. After he made it clear that torture must not be used on people from the Su household, we lesser ones no longer dared.”

Seeing Shen Xi remain silent, Su Wan lowered her head: “Lord Shen, Third Brother only has me as a relative left. He once treated me well. Now that he’s met with disaster, there must be someone at home to wait for him. This commoner woman is willing to remain in the capital and wait for him to return. If he cannot return, after three years, this commoner woman will take Sister-in-law Tan to Ningzhou to care for him.”

Shen Xi was stunned. After a long while, as if something had touched him, he replied: “Only… you alone?”

Su Wan didn’t understand the meaning of his question. In her bewilderment, she only timidly nodded.

Yes, only she remained, so she would wait for Shiyu to return.

And what about himself? Wasn’t he also alone?

So that was it—it was actually such a simple truth, yet he hadn’t been able to penetrate it.

Second Sister was gone, Shisan was no more. The dead had passed, but what about the living?

Third Sister was unwilling to face Zhu Yushen and preferred to guard Shisan’s tomb, but she was still Empress. Though Shiyu had been exiled, she still bore the court’s criminal charges. Though Father had retired, he had formerly been a court official. Though Lin’er had fled to Shu, his identity as legitimate heir apparent remained—that was his lifelong shackle, so he would need someone to protect him for this entire life.

Only he, Shen Qingyue, remained alone. Simply walking away would be easiest, but if he walked away, could he help them, protect them? Could he protect the Shen family, Lin’er, and Shiyu?

He could not.

Only she remained alone, so he could not leave. He had to stay here. Even though he loathed this deep palace, he still had to be this National Uncle, this Duke, this Minister of Revenue and first-rank Cabinet Minister.

Whether for the nation, for public duty, or for private reasons—even if Lin’er and Shiyu wanted to go to the ends of heaven and earth.

He had to hold power. Only by holding power could he protect them.

Actually, there weren’t so many things to deliberate over. Having passed through so many hardships already, what difference did one or two more barriers make? Shen Qingyue was no longer the Shen Qingyue of before. He had tended horses, had hovered at the edge of life and death. Since there was no choice, no selection—if it was wrong, then it was wrong. Walking a wrong path with burning boats and breaking cauldrons—how could that not reveal another vista of storms and spring light?

In an instant, it was as if his extraordinary meridians had been unblocked. Shen Xi’s entire being became released and relaxed.

His eyes curved slightly, revealing an extremely faint smile like the dawn, which he quickly restrained. To Ma Zhao he said: “Do as she says.” Then with long strides he passed over everyone present and headed toward the direction outside the palace.

Ma Zhao was startled and chased after him a few steps: “Lord Shen, where are you going?” He reminded him, “Today His Majesty ordered the Seven Ministers and the Cabinet to discuss matters at the Fengtian Hall at the hour of chen.”

Shen Xi seemed to have heard, yet also seemed not to have. He didn’t respond, didn’t turn back. His figure turned past the palace wall and disappeared from view.

The sky had not yet fully brightened. Outside the eastern side gate of the palace, a winter jasmine had already formed buds. This winter jasmine bloomed earliest every year, as if rushing to burst open its tender yellow on the first day of the New Year was auspicious.

Yet for some unknown reason, though it clearly wasn’t shift change time, the guards at the eastern side gate had changed shifts. Shortly after, a carriage stopped outside the gate. The driver looked around and asked quietly: “Has he arrived yet?”

One guard answered: “Not yet. It’s still early. Wait a bit longer.”

Saying it was early wasn’t quite accurate either. It would be best to leave the city before the capital became lively at the hour of chen.

Before long, three people walked along the corridor.

The leader was actually the current Cabinet Grand Secretary Liu Chaoming. Half a step behind him, on his right followed Vice Censor-in-Chief Yan Xiu, and on his left was someone covered in a black cloak. The wide hood obscured his face. From afar, one could only see his upright and tall bearing, but couldn’t make out who it was.

Reaching the palace gate, Yan Xiu received a traveling pack from one guard and handed it to the black-robed person: “The carriage to Shu has been prepared. The driver knows medicine and will accompany you on this journey. But your injuries haven’t healed. Early spring makes traveling difficult for recuperation. This journey is long, the Shu roads treacherous, mountains distant and waters vast. If you don’t rush, it’s better to rest for a full month along the way. Wait until summer before traveling slowly.”

After a long while, a deep voice came from beneath the black robe: “I know.”

Yan Xiu respectfully bowed to him. Another guard came forward with a blade.

Liu Chaoming said flatly: “You are a martial artist. Keep it with you for self-defense.”

Without drawing the blade from its sheath, one could tell it was a good blade. Though it couldn’t compare to his former peerless one, the weight and dimensions were exactly the same—it could be used smoothly.

The black-robed person accepted the blade, glanced at Liu Chaoming, but said nothing.

For a moment, he looked once more at the palace towers and halls bathed in dawn light. Without hesitation, he turned and walked toward the carriage.

All of yesterday dies like yesterday. All of today is born like today.

This journey to Shu—the Shu roads were difficult, more difficult than ascending to heaven. But a journey of a thousand li begins beneath one’s feet. Taking this step forward, the road ahead wouldn’t be so treacherous after all.

Though Jiange was precipitous and towering, there would always be magnificent views at the summit.

Not until the carriage had gone far and disappeared did Yan Xiu walk back together with Liu Chaoming.

Though Yan Xiu was suspicious about what Liu Yun meant by saving Zhu Nanxian and whether His Majesty knew, he didn’t dare ask. After turning it over in his mind hundreds of times, he finally said: “Since you intended to spare that one’s life and also intended to spare Lord Su from the hardships of exile labor, why not tell that one or Lord Su each other’s destinations? It wouldn’t count as a favor, but it would be fulfilling their wishes.”

But when this question came out, Liu Chaoming didn’t answer.

Actually, he knew what Yan Xiu really wanted to ask.

But he didn’t care.

Sparing Su Shiyu from the hardships of exile labor was because of a promise. Saving Zhu Nanxian’s life was actually also because of a promise. Though these promises were different, saving these two people perhaps had other unclear, unexplainable reasons. But it was all because of his individual causes, consequences, and karmic connections with each of them. As for how things were between those two—what did it have to do with him?

So Liu Yun only answered this one sentence: “What does it have to do with me?”

On the first day of the New Year, everywhere in the palace was cold and desolate. Walking to the platform steps, it became rarely lively, though not with festive celebration but rather a kind of busyness and haste.

In the past, Emperors Jingyuan and Jin’an had been very diligent in governance, but at least during the three days of New Year’s they didn’t discuss political affairs. Now this newly enthroned Emperor Yongji, on just the first day, was already rushing to discuss national affairs.

Admittedly, reorganizing the Cabinet concerned the state and society. Settling the regulations early, determining them before the court session, would benefit governmental proceedings without harm. Therefore, though the ministers had doubts, there was no dissent.

There was still one quarter-hour before the scheduled hour of chen. Zhu Yushen was reviewing memorials in the Jinshen Hall. Wu Chang heard a palace attendant’s report outside the hall door and returned to report: “Your Majesty, just now a eunuch dispatched by the Regent came to say that the Regent was coming through the eastern side gate and was in a bit of a hurry. He will go directly to Fengtian Hall later and won’t come to Jinshen Hall to see Your Majesty first.”

Zhu Yushen’s brush paused. Something seemed to flicker in his eyes, but he quickly resumed writing.

Seeing his expression remain calm, Wu Chang probed further: “It’s said the Regent was rushing this morning to see someone out of the palace, which is why he was late. The eunuch who came to report said that because the person wore a cloak, he couldn’t see clearly who was being seen off. This old servant guesses it might have been some official who came to the palace to wish the Regent a happy New Year. Oh, it’s said he was ill—there was a medicinal smell about him.”

Zhu Yushen glanced at him, lightly withdrawing his gaze. After a while, he said: “Your information is quite well-informed.”

Wu Chang seemed to have received some commendation and said humbly: “Your Majesty overpraises. The eunuch making the report said that when the Regent saw the person off, he didn’t conceal or block anything. He merely reported what he saw. This old servant is just repeating what he heard.”

These words sounded bland, but thinking carefully—what did “didn’t conceal or block anything” mean?

The implication was that Liu Yun no longer regarded the sovereign and was running rampant in this palace?

Zhu Yushen set down his brush and looked at Wu Chang: “I recall you’re literate.”

Then he picked up an edict from beside the imperial desk and handed it to him: “Help me check—are all the names on this written correctly?”

Wu Chang acknowledged and unfolded it to look. It was actually the first step in today’s Cabinet reorganization—official appointments and dismissals.

Strangely, the several Cabinet Ministers originally said to be changed and promoted hadn’t been moved. Liu Yun remained Grand Secretary. Su Shiyu’s former position had instead been filled by Shu Wenlan.

Wu Chang was confused.

What did His Majesty mean by this? Retain Shen Xi, promote Shu Wenlan, preserve Liu Yun as Grand Secretary?

Promoting Shu Wenlan should indicate trust. Keeping Shen Xi probably truly hoped he could manage the Ministry of Revenue. But since these two didn’t get along that well with Liu Yun, why preserve Liu Yun’s position as Grand Secretary? He was already Regent.

Though it’s said that listening to all sides brings clarity, Liu Yun was already Regent with overwhelming power. If he continued to concurrently serve as Grand Secretary, though not formally Chancellor, his position would exceed that of Chancellor. This way, he alone would be enough to suppress all dissenting voices. How could there still be listening to all sides, still be clarity?

Wu Chang felt uncomfortable.

It was like being struck with a rod then given a taste of honey—the blow wasn’t heavy, the honey wasn’t sweet, but it left one aching and itching and tasteless.

He was pondering this when he hazily came back to himself, only to discover he’d been holding the edict and deliberating for too long.

Hesitantly raising his head, he saw Zhu Yushen looking at him with a calm and unruffled face. Those eyes, deep as a nighttime river and sea, could almost penetrate everything.

Wu Chang’s hand trembled and the edict in his hand fell to the ground with a “slap.”

He hurriedly picked it up and kowtowed: “Your Majesty, forgive this crime. This old servant knows his error, this old servant knows his error—”

But Zhu Yushen paid him no attention. His gaze fell on the memorial in his hands, reviewing it carefully, as if there were no one beside him at all.

At this time, a palace attendant outside came to report: “Your Majesty, Duke Shen requests an audience.”

Outside was pale and translucent spring light. Shen Xi walked leisurely, only feeling this spring radiance falling all over him.

He had already changed into his ducal court robes. The pine and crane atop still carried the frost and snow meaning of winter, but when he saw Zhu Yushen, his face was all smiles, while his eyes held the willow wind that doesn’t chill one’s face.

“Yesterday I drank wine and overslept. This minister has come to wish brother-in-law a happy New Year.” As he spoke, he cupped his hands in salute and bent his legs to perform the kowtow.

He put on quite a show, as if he were still the Shen Qingyue of former days.

Zhu Yushen looked at him quietly. After a moment, he also smiled faintly: “Not late. You’ve come at just the right time. Rise.”

Shen Xi complied. His gaze swept over the kneeling Wu Chang, as if he hadn’t seen him at all. Smiling cheerfully he said: “Yesterday after drinking, my hands shook and I spilled the wine Your Majesty bestowed. Qingyue returned home feeling guilty all along. I dug at tree roots all night and unearthed the first jar of wine I brewed at age seven. Twenty-year-old aged apricot blossom brew—consider it my apology to brother-in-law.”

As he spoke, he was about to instruct the palace attendants outside to bring in the wine.

Zhu Yushen said: “Leave it for now. There will be a meeting shortly, not suitable for drinking.” Then added, “Since you’ve arrived early, accompany me to Fengtian Hall.”

Shen Xi agreed readily and smiled again: “Brother-in-law is indeed thorough in his thinking.”

The two walked from Jinshen Hall toward Fengtian Hall. The journey was originally silent, but walking to the corner of the platform steps, they heard Zhu Yushen suddenly say: “I plan to promote Shu Wenlan to the Cabinet to fill Su Shiyu’s vacancy. What do you think?”

Shen Xi’s brow furrowed imperceptibly.

How strange—punishing Wu Chang by making him kneel, wasn’t that obviously showing his imperial will was decided? Yet he still wanted to test him? But this test was also obvious—both sides understood it clearly.

Shen Xi seemed somewhat troubled. After a moment, as if very sincere, he said: “Though Lord Shu has long years of service, he’s been bedridden too long. His achievements fall far short of Shiyu’s. Replacing her position is somewhat forced. Of course, he has his strengths. Perhaps he can establish other distinguished service. In any case, since brother-in-law wants to reorganize, why not also ask Liu Yun and the Seven Ministers for their opinions? Listening to all sides brings clarity, after all.”

Wasn’t this just empty words?

Zhu Yushen’s steps paused. He turned to look at Shen Xi.

Though empty words, rather than saying it was offending neither side, it was more like watching tigers fight from the mountain.

The corners of Zhu Yushen’s mouth moved, seeming to smile, seeming to probe, also seeming to have long seen through his little thoughts. He looked away, turning his gaze toward the distant sky, and said without preamble: “Spring has come.”

Shen Xi followed his gaze, but seemed to see even farther, falling on unreachable places where his heart held concerns. So he withdrew his smile and also said: “Yes, spring has come.” In places further south, the snow should be melting, shouldn’t it?

On the third day after Su Jin’s carriage entered Jiangxi territory, snow began melting by the roadside.

This morning, the dawn light was still faint. The carriage hadn’t yet entered the city when it stopped beside a hexagonal pavilion in the middle of nowhere. Li Qiong jumped down from the driver’s seat, lifted the curtain and said: “Young Master Su, we’ve arrived. This humble one will see you off to here.”

Su Jin’s gaze fell on the hexagonal pavilion. Inside was a person with an extremely tall and rough build. He stood in a patch of shadow. Seeing the carriage, he also seemed uncertain. Only after a long while did he come out of the pavilion. Recognizing her, his eyes immediately reddened: “Lord Su—”

It was actually Tan Zhaolin.

He was still carrying a cage in his hand. Inside, A’Fu looked listless, only recovering some spirit upon seeing Su Jin.

After Li Qiong left, Tan Zhaolin explained why he was in Jiangxi.

It turned out he had stayed in the Qingzhou camp for half a month. Not until early December did he receive a letter from the capital telling him to immediately hurry to Jiangxi territory to meet Su Jin.

Tan Zhaolin had been suspicious at first, but later thinking that Nanchang in Jiangxi was precisely Zhu Nanxian’s fiefdom, assuming the letter was sent by him, he came at full speed.

Only then did Su Jin understand—so the person Liu Yun said would meet her in Jiangxi was actually Zhaolin.

Tan Zhaolin took out a cloth bundle from his bosom. Inside, her jade pendant and his dagger were all carefully wrapped.

“When His Majesty left, he only kept these three things. This one hasn’t been negligent for a single day.”

Su Jin looked at the Rain character pendant and the Nine Dragons dagger. Her tears had long since dried. At this moment she only felt emptiness.

A’Fu turned his beady eyes to stare at her, seeming to finally understand that such emptiness stemmed from a lifetime’s desolation of having no one to rely on. He jumped twice from the wooden perch, as if trying to comfort or perhaps understand, calling out: “Your Highness, Thirteenth Highness!”

Su Jin came back to herself in a daze, but with unusual calm. She only said to Tan Zhaolin: “Let’s go.”

As the carriage continued south, it grew warmer. Su Jin lifted the carriage curtain and asked: “Zhaolin, another hundred li and we’ll reach Nanchang, right?”

“Right. Anyway, the Lord said to go south, so this one figured, since we’ve come this far, let’s first go see Nanchang.”

Nanchang? That’s fine. He had once been enfeoffed here.

Actually, Zhu Nanxian had been to many places, but truly left traces in very few—besides the enfeoffment in Nanchang, there was only the northwest where he served in the military.

Oh yes, he had also mentioned that after getting married, he would accompany her back to her ancestral home in Shu.

Su Jin said: “Let’s first go to Nanchang. After we finish the mourning period for him, we’ll go to Shu.”

She had actually thought it all through—carrying his old traces from Nanchang back to Shu. When even more time had passed, she would also go see the northwest.

Hearing these words, Tan Zhaolin was rarely silent. After a moment, with a crack of the whip, he called out loudly: “Alright!”

The further south they went, the more abundant the spring. Nearing Nanchang Prefecture, flower branches along the road were already brilliant. Tan Zhaolin was a rough man. Seeing such scenery, he could only say inadequately: “Lord, look quickly—spring has come!”

Su Jin lifted the carriage curtain. Along the wild path, peaches and plums rippled like youth—clearly blooming intensely, yet adorned with tranquil light.

So she also sighed: “Yes, spring has come.”