Things should have gone smoothly when Prince Su and Xiao Wei met. Almost everyone thought so.

In fact, Prince Su’s enthusiasm toward Xiao Wei was absolutely fiery, completely the appearance of an elder caring for a younger relative. Not only did he open the garrison gates wide and reprimand the garrison commander who had failed to recognize people properly, he also withdrew all the soldiers from both ships, and of course returned the weapons to their original owners.

When Wei Jia came to the cabin to tell Mo Zi this news, his expression, especially when describing the unfortunate appearance of that squad leader who had confiscated his bow and arrows, was animated with delight.

“Can this ship pass through the garrison now?” Mo Zi didn’t care about anything else.

Wei Jia’s endless chatter suddenly seemed to encounter a silencer. After a long while, he scratched his head and said, “Haven’t had time to mention that yet. However, tonight Prince Su is hosting a banquet at his residence to welcome and clean the dust off us. At that time, Baiyu will surely bring it up. Don’t worry, Prince Su won’t refuse to let us go—there’s no reason to.”

Naval garrisons on shore necessarily had military posts, and naturally Prince Su had a secondary residence where he stayed.

Yang Qiao then said something very wise. “Long nights bring many dreams.”

“I have the same feeling.” Mo Zi analyzed more carefully. “It’s only near noon now. By the time you finish eating dinner and return, it’ll already be the third or fourth watch. With Daqiu missing a patrol ship, they’ll surely suspect us. Though they won’t immediately cross the border to chase us, every moment we stop here reduces our lead over them by that same moment. Moreover, we don’t know if the pursuing soldiers who were led away have come to their senses yet. Go ask Xiao Wei if he can bring this matter up with Prince Su right now.”

“But Baiyu and Zhong An went ashore with Prince Su on horseback. I don’t know when they’ll return.” Wei Jia was helpless.

“Looks like Miss might actually manage to embroider a sachet after all.” Seeing everyone looking at each other in dismay, Luo Ying tried to liven up the atmosphere.

Xiao Yi appeared at the doorway. “Mo Zi, Master Yuan is awake. Do you want to go over?”

Mo Zi’s eyes lit up, treating Xiao Yi like a savior fallen from heaven. Not for any other reason than not having to repeatedly poke holes in the same leaf.

She quickly said, “I’ll go.”

Madam Miao saw through her little thoughts and teased, “Miss Mo Zi, you’re so happy to leave—what does that make us teachers who’ve been instructing you?”

Mo Zi winked back at her. “It’s not that the teachers aren’t good, but this young lady has blurry vision, a stone brain, iron-lump hands, and can’t even pick up an embroidery needle.”

This made even Su’s mother and Su Qin, who had just joined them, cover their mouths and laugh.

At Yuan Cheng’s place, he was eating breakfast. Because they were on a ship, there wasn’t much variety. Two large meat baozi, a dish of pickled vegetables. A cup of freshly brewed clear tea at hand. But watching him eat with such relish, not dropping even a crumb of dough—everything went into his stomach—it was as if it were some particularly rare delicacy.

“Normally I see your appetite isn’t large. Even food made from the most expensive ingredients, you only eat two or three bites. The only time I felt you had any appetite was with those mooncakes I gave you last Mid-Autumn Festival—it seemed you really did like them. But did you just eat an entire baozi?” If there was anything about this ship that made Mo Zi feel regretful, it was the food. Although Chouyu and the others repeatedly emphasized it was much better than gnawing dry rations, she really couldn’t see any qualitative leap. It was merely cold food turned into hot food—the taste couldn’t withstand even the slightest criticism.

Yuan Cheng picked up the second baozi and, under Mo Zi’s astonished gaze, took a leisurely bite. “I’ve already bitten it. If you want to eat, go to the kitchen yourself.”

Mo Zi stared and stared, then after a long while said, “Yuan Cheng, are you afraid I’ll steal your baozi?”

It couldn’t be, right?

It couldn’t be.

Hearing these words, Yuan Cheng’s speed of eating the baozi suddenly quickened. Of course, his eating manner still maintained its elegance, but compared to his previous cat-like appetite, it could be described as wolfing it down.

Mo Zi watched dumbfounded as he finished eating, his bamboo-slender beautiful hands lifting the teacup and draining it in one gulp. Then he smiled at her, still that gentle as jade, graceful gentleman—

“All gone,” he said.

“What… is all gone?” Well, she wasn’t quite sure if her understanding was correct.

“The baozi are gone.” He looked at her as if feeling very sorry for her. “I originally wanted to share some with you. Come earlier next time.”

She now very much suspected the three-legged cat cook in the kitchen had been switched out, possibly replaced by a divine chef who could make baozi into the world’s most delicious delicacy, to the point where this person was stingy to an unprecedented degree. However, judging from that familiar, extremely ugly shape, it was clearly the three-legged cat’s personal handiwork.

“Yuan Cheng, that’s just a very ordinary baozi.” He treated it like treasure, while she treated it as just—baozi, and very unpalatable baozi at that.

“The taste is very… not bad. The meat filling is seasoned very authentically.” He picked up chopsticks, selected a piece of pickled cucumber, took a bite and put it down, not at all feeling he was showing such favoritism.

“The filling is authentic?” This was a fresh description. “From what I personally witnessed, more than half that filling was fatty pork. Aside from salt, there were no other seasonings. One bite fills your mouth with grease. Where is this a local specialty from?” Forgetting their circumstances were still precarious, she very much wanted to discuss the topic of baozi with him.

He actually seemed to think about it and said, “Luo Zhou prefecture capital.”

“Luo Zhou? I stayed there for most of a year, so I’m quite familiar with it. You’ve been there too? When? Which shop?” Given the chance, she wanted to go try it.

“When I was five years old, waiting there for a ship to Nande. I don’t know which shop it was—Uncle Fu brought it to me. It was pouring rain that day. I was soaked through, but the baozi was very hot, warming my palms until they burned.” The only bit of warmth in the cold, unforgettable for a lifetime.

With his few brief words, the image appeared before her eyes of a five-year-old boy who had lost all his family members carefully cradling a baozi at a rainy dock, so vivid, so heartbreaking. So it turned out he wasn’t eating a baozi, but rather a treasured happy memory from bitter despair.

“Yuan Cheng.” The corners of her eyes were somewhat moist, but she couldn’t cry, so she smiled. “I’ll have the kitchen make baozi once every day starting today.”

He was about to say something grateful, but was choked by her next words.

She said, “Then I’ll fight you for baozi every day until your childhood shadow becomes a shadow of resisting my tyranny. If you don’t admit this baozi is really, truly unpalatable, I absolutely won’t give up.”

He withdrew his gentle expression, his gaze like a deep pool with no visible bottom, then gradually becoming clear as spring water. “It sounds like you’re planning to wear me down for a lifetime.”

“A lifetime then. I like you, I can’t help it.” She wasn’t a young girl ignorant of romantic feelings. Walking this journey with him, he had never deliberately chosen a time and place to confess or express emotion, and neither had she. She had liked him for a long time already, so she said it when she wanted to.

“What did you say?” He wasn’t prepared for a moment.

She shrugged and sat down to pick at the pickled cucumber. “Do you know, without pickled cucumber to go with baozi, I can’t swallow it at all.” Want to hear it again? Better luck next time.

“Mo Zi, from now on I’ll give you my portion of baozi. Just say those words again.” He thought he shouldn’t have so ferociously devoured the baozi in one go just now.

“Won’t say it again.” She was frank and would absolutely not let him easily coax it out of her. “A man who loses himself for baozi—I’d better be more cautious and think it over again.”

But he said, “It’s a bit late for regrets now. The words left your mouth and entered my ears, and I didn’t truly fail to hear them.” His expression was normal, but his heart surged with waves, his joyful feelings impossible to express. She didn’t understand that because of this, he might never be able to break the habit of loving baozi for the rest of his life. If eating baozi would bring such sudden enlightenment, what harm would there be in eating baozi at every meal?

The two looked at each other. Ambiguous words, yet no ambiguous actions. Both hearts were joyful, and what showed was only smiles. In this small ship cabin, emotions clearly filled it completely, but they weren’t brilliant sparks violently colliding, but rather spiritual harmony unified with warm happiness.

“Our ship can’t leave yet for the time being.” Having finished discussing baozi and returning to serious matters, Mo Zi asked, “What should we do?”

“Let’s wait.” Yuan Cheng already knew. “We can’t stir up trouble at Prince Su’s main camp again and then whitewash it as nothing happened. Or, have Wei Jia go to Prince Su’s residence later to drink a few more cups, then use the excuse of him causing a drunken scene to rush out of the naval garrison—that would still be explainable.”

Mo Zi laughed in exasperation. “That would be explainable? But since you say to wait, then we’ll wait.”

That night, Xiao Wei accompanied Prince Su into the residence. Earlier, Prince Su had introduced him to various generals in the military and watched the soldiers drill in formation—unknowingly half the day had passed. The welcoming banquet had progressed halfway when he was just about to mention the matter of the Chi ship leaving the garrison first, when someone came in to report—

Minister Wang has arrived.

Prince Su immediately stood up.

Xiao Wei and the others were juniors, so of course they couldn’t remain seated either and hurriedly stood up as well.

Prince Su said to him, “Erlang, you must surely know this Minister Wang. He was the minister the Late Emperor valued most highly, rising from a commoner to become a First Rank Grand Minister of Works and Chancellor, commanding the Six Ministries. After the Late Emperor passed, he wanted to retire and return home. My imperial brother refused, but considering he was indeed advanced in years, still appointed him as Chief Minister, requiring him to attend court every three days. It wasn’t until ten years ago that he finally succeeded in retiring and returned to his native place. By coincidence, he became my neighbor.”

Though Xiao Wei was young, he knew court affairs like the back of his hand. “Could this be the Empress’s father, Minister Wang Yang?”

“Exactly him.” Prince Su stroked his beard and smiled. “Normally if you invite him, ten invitations bring ten refusals. If not for the borders being somewhat unstable recently, and my personally calling on him at his gate to seek his counsel, he wouldn’t have come.”

“Minister Wang in his time used strategies three times to rattle the mountain and intimidate the tiger, extinguishing Daqiu’s restless ambitions. Though a civil official, he used military tactics like a god—he’s an elder predecessor our generation reveres. Xiao Wei has long heard his name but never had the fortune to meet him. I didn’t expect to have such luck today.” Xiao Wei wasn’t exaggerating—he greatly admired Wang Yang. Many descendants of the Wang family served as officials at court, and Wang Yang’s eldest son held the position of Chief Minister, with official rank of Second Grade and also being the Great National Uncle, but not one could achieve what Wang Yang had—extreme excellence in civil matters with military strategy in his heart.

But they heard one person’s hearty voice carry in. “This old man resigned from office ten years ago, thinking the younger generation at court wouldn’t know these old bones. To hear such praise from the Second Young Master of Prince Jing, this is truly excessive.”

Immediately after, that person walked in. White hair combed without a strand out of place, secured high with a wooden ring and wooden hairpin. A gray cloth robe, a pair of black cloth shoes—plain and simple. His face was kind, without the heavy solemnity of weathering the court, an air of leisurely virtue.

End of fiscal year, work has me busy as a dog.

Wishing everyone a happy weekend!