This woman perhaps did not know that her most beautiful expression was not the flattering, ingratiating smiles she showed to others—but exactly this: eyes wide and round, willow brows arched high, her whole self like a sharp, pungent chili pepper, and coming straight at you with a burst of vitality and spirit. Once you had tasted it, you could never forget…

Of course there were far too many aspects of her worth savoring. Situ Sheng felt as though he had returned to his youth—when little Linlang first earned money and led him to browse the candy stall, and he stared at the dazzling array of sweets in the shop, suddenly unable to decide what to choose.

One piece was not enough—he wanted them all!

Just as they were in the midst of this tender moment, there came a knock at the study door.

The lump of softness in Situ Sheng’s arms, which had been pliant just moments ago, seemed to have been struck by lightning—she shot upright, seized the feather duster from the side of the desk, and began dusting away with full convincing effect.

Unfortunately she had jumped up too violently, and her knee knocked against the corner of the desk—she had to bite down hard on the pain, not daring to make a sound.

The one who entered was Dongxue, coming to bring tea.

While Dongxue poured the tea, the young mistress must have finished with the dusting—without turning her head, she tucked the feather duster under her arm and, walking with a slight limp, went around behind Dongxue and out.

Watching her go, Situ Sheng then raised his head and said to Dongxue: “In the future, without my instructions, do not enter the study.”

This had not been a rule in the residence before. Dongxue bluntly asked straight out: “Why?”

Hearing such an overstepping question, Situ Sheng actually patiently offered an explanation: “It’s bad for the knees.”

“Ah?” Dongxue was a bit dazed and couldn’t work out the connection—she only thought her lord was being unusually considerate of the servants, perhaps worried that she’d wear out her knees from so many trips to deliver tea.

But Situ Sheng offered no further explanation, only waved his hand to dismiss her.

He turned back to bend over the official documents piled on the desk. He needed to get through these quickly—perhaps there might even be time afterward to look in on a certain someone’s knees.

…

At this very moment, the residence of the deputy commander of the cavalry camp was far from calm.

Having heard from his uncle what Chu Linlang had said in reply, Chen Fang could not help but give a cold snort: “Truly ungrateful—doesn’t know a good thing when she sees it!”

According to his original plan, he only needed to set up a simple snare, and this woman would have been entirely at his mercy.

That fleeting glimpse of Chu Shi on the long street the other day had left Chen Fang genuinely stirred—a woman of just the right age was like a fruit perfectly ripened in the height of summer: a little earlier and it would be unripe, a little later and it would be overripe.

He had always fancied himself a man of refined tastes. Coming across such a sweet and tender morsel, how could he not look for an opportunity to sample it?

But this little Chu Shi had no appreciation for what was being offered to her and refused to be of use. It seemed another approach would need to be thought of. In any case, she was not the only useful person to be found in that Vice Minister’s residence.

Thinking this, Chen Fang added with no small regret: “What a pity…”

His uncle stood to one side reading the mood, and immediately understood what his worthy nephew meant. The stocky little figure let out a low, sly laugh: “That woman has no sense of what’s good for her—she can’t just be let off this easily. Otherwise, people will start to think the Crown Prince’s words are no better than a fart—completely disregarded!”

Chen Fang shot him a look: “Stop invoking the Crown Prince’s name for every little thing! His Highness is keeping a low profile in his own conduct lately, now that the fourth prince has been restored to favor!”

Chen Yuanwai kept nodding his agreement, but then leaned in and murmured a few words close to Chen Fang’s ear.

Chen Fang squinted at him sidelong: “Outrageous—what kind of vile scheme is this!”

Chen Yuanwai was unfazed: “The men I have under me used to do exactly this kind of work back in the mountain forests—they’re very practiced at it. Besides, what kind of thing is she, really? She’s nothing more than someone who uses her looks to latch onto men everywhere she goes. Even if something happens to her, who can she accuse? She’d most likely have to treat it as though nothing happened at all, for fear the news would get out and she’d throw away her reputation for nothing!”

Chen Fang found this reasoning sound, and only cast his uncle a meaningful sidelong glance, feigning an air of high-mindedness: “These words of yours haven’t passed through my ears today—I know nothing about any of it!”

Chen Yuanwai read the message perfectly, and only replied with an obsequious laugh: “Understood, understood—once we have the woman secured, we’ll shove her into a dark room. I guarantee she won’t be able to see anyone from start to finish!”

This sort of business Chen Yuanwai had done plenty of before. Otherwise, how could a tea merchant have risen to strut about in the capital? To climb from a lowly position and cultivate connections with the powerful, one had to be willing to go to any lengths and do the dirty work others were reluctant to do!

That little Chu woman had no sense of timing—did she really think that by clinging to a poor-born upstart who had climbed through the ranks of the reform faction, she could go around offending people as she pleased in the capital?

There would come a day she’d regret it bitterly, and weep tears she could not shed!

…

When the second day arrived, it was the annual Flower Festival.

Besides preparing flower baskets for Situ Sheng, Chu Linlang had also prepared a few of her own to send to the instructors and classmates of the women’s academy.

But she could not afford the more expensive and precious varieties. The flower baskets that cost the residence silver were all prepared for Situ Sheng’s social calls.

Her current position was that of a servant, so for social calls of this nature, genuine sincerity was sufficient. And so her flower baskets were all self-made, prepared several days in advance.

Situ Sheng had been penalized with a period of home confinement and reflection, and could not go wandering the streets on a festival day like this. General Li had also come, and sat with Situ Sheng in the study for half a day.

Linlang checked the time, and set out with Xia He, Dongxue, and a young manservant named Wang Wu, going door to door to deliver the flower baskets.

When they arrived at the Qi Gong residence, the front gates of the Sacrificial Libationer’s home were nearly submerged in a sea of flowers.

Chu Linlang had originally planned to simply leave the flower basket and be done with it once propriety was observed. But Qi Jingtang’s wife, Madam Hua, spotted her and came over smiling to receive it.

When the basket was in her hands, Madam Hua discovered that the flower basket this Chu Shi had sent was rather different. Inside the willow-woven basket were no fresh flowers at all—instead there were paper flowers, pinched and folded from rice paper with a light wash of color.

Although during the Flower Festival it was customary to paste red paper flowers onto the branches of trees, no one would think of sending paper flowers as gifts to others—there was no one brazen enough to fob people off with something so cheap.

Madam Hua was momentarily taken aback and could not help glancing up at Chu Shi.

Just at that moment, Qi Gong, who had been standing at the gate appreciating the flowers, also walked over, and raised his white-flecked eyebrows to look at the basket of paper flowers: “What are you playing at, girl? Are you cursing me to a long undead life?”

Just then, the other female students from the academy arrived to deliver their flower baskets as well.

Yixiu Junzhu, catching a glimpse of Chu Linlang’s flower basket, could not help but cover her mouth and laugh quietly: truly impossible to bring out in polite society. But in a gathering this packed with powerful and noble figures, given Niangzi Chu’s social standing, whatever she sent would look shabby—she might as well withdraw from the academy early and stop floundering in circles where she didn’t belong!

Chu Linlang was entirely unruffled. She simply respectfully performed her salute, then from the basket Madam Hua was holding she drew out one of the paper flowers and gave it a gentle pull—and the flower unfolded back into a sheet of paper.

On the paper, its edges tinted with color, was found to be covered in characters of varying sizes, all rendering “Fortune, Longevity, and Peace.”

Qi Gong had seen Chu Linlang’s calligraphy before. At the birthday banquet back then, the earthworm-like character for “law” she had dashed off was better left unmentioned. And when she entered the women’s academy, the bold, casual line of characters on that snow-white exam paper had been merely passable in neatness, with no visible strength behind the strokes. But now, the few characters of “Fortune, Longevity, and Peace” on this paper showed remarkable improvement in speed, and were each written in a different calligraphic style. Though one could not call them exceptional, they no longer hurt the eyes.

This little creature—she turned out to be someone with diligence and natural aptitude…

Qi Gong gave a cold snort: “Artful words and an ingratiating manner rarely go with true virtue! You’re just putting on clever tricks to catch people’s attention.”

These were harsh words, especially coming from Elder Qi’s mouth—they were tantamount to directly labeling her a petty person of low character, which was deeply humiliating, especially with Qi Jingtang and his wife present, as well as several guests who had come to deliver flowers. A young woman who still cared about her reputation could easily have been shamed into tears on the spot by such a remark.

The female students nearby who had witnessed it all felt the embarrassment on Chu Linlang’s behalf, especially Guan Jinhe, who was on reasonably good terms with her—she flushed bright red herself and looked on with great sympathy.

But Chu Shi had a remarkably level temperament. Being mocked in public did not change her expression at all—she simply let out a small laugh and said: “Sacrificial Libationer, you are absolutely right to scold me. At the academy, I heard in history class about a famously filial scholar of the previous dynasty who copied out sutras to give to his teacher, as a way of expressing his utmost sincerity. And so I thought of this approach. But the sutra characters were too many—I feared I couldn’t copy them all in time, and so I deliberately chose only a few auspicious characters. To make it look like there were more of them, I even wrote them especially large. You are so perceptive—you spotted my laziness immediately! In that case, I mustn’t be lazy next time. I should honestly and diligently copy out an entire thick sutra to pray for your blessings!”

In all his years of teaching, Qi Gong had trained countless students. When he was strict, reducing a student to tears was nothing unusual.

But this little creature—no matter what he did—kept smiling her carefree smile, as tough and slippery as a piece of gristle, carrying the wind-repelling, water-blocking bearing of a woman general.

With this speech she appeared to be reproaching herself for laziness, yet in truth she was subtly and gently pushing back at him: I’m sorry, these paper-folding tricks that impressed you were all learned at your son’s academy!

Qi Gong, having been softly knocked back by this young woman again, gave a cold snort: “My son had a moment of soft-heartedness and took you in—and he’s only made your mouth full of sharp steel teeth all the sharper!”

Chu Linlang pressed her lips together in a small smile: “Then from now on I’ll speak less when I see you, so as not to vex you—how would that be?”

With that, she made her curtsey and prepared to take her leave.

But Qi Gong called her back once more and instructed: “Since you’ve come all this way, don’t make a wasted trip. Otherwise you’ll leave with a belly full of cold wind and end up saying strange things behind people’s backs. Go—join your classmates in the main hall for some flower cake and pastry, and while you’re at it, pack up some to bring back for your lord!”

Madam Hua inwardly marveled: how odd—so many people had come today to deliver flower baskets, and yet none of the others had been invited inside. After all, so many guests had arrived that the space in the main hall was limited, and being invited inside for tea and pastry was a privilege that fell only to a select few ladies of standing.

Even the former husband of this Niangzi Chu—Lord Zhou—had delivered his flower basket at the gate just now, and on the pretext that the lane was rather congested with too many carriages and horses, the steward had seen him off and sent him on his way.

Yet this woman, lowly in station and just sharply tongue-lashed, was personally invited inside by her father-in-law with his own words—that was truly unexpected.

From this alone, it was clear that Niangzi Chu had somehow won favor in the old man’s eyes.

This being the case, the sharp exchange just moments ago felt considerably less cutting—more like a grandfather scolding a mischievous little granddaughter.

Chu Linlang naturally felt the warmth of Qi Gong’s regard, and immediately smiled her thanks, then came close to take Madam Hua’s arm affectionately, and the two went off together chatting and laughing toward the main hall for tea and cake.

Yixiu Junzhu had originally been expecting to watch an amusing spectacle, but instead saw Qi Gong give Niangzi Chu such face—and could not help but be quietly startled.

Then, as Madam Hua yielded precedence, Yixiu Junzhu stepped ahead of Niangzi Chu and went quickly into the main hall.

Chu Linlang deliberately slowed her pace and kept Madam Hua company, helping to take things handed over from the people around them along the way. Walking the full distance like this, Madam Hua found this young woman, though not many years old and not particularly well-read, inexplicably likable.

Truly, every word was just right and pleasant to hear—she was someone who read people and spoke well. No wonder she had earned the old man’s favor and been taken into the academy.

Madam Hua had also heard a little of Chu Linlang’s past failed marriage. Just as women shared a kind of kinship in suffering, she had a measure of sympathy for this woman, and was naturally all the more warmly disposed toward her.

When they entered the main hall, Chu Linlang found her classmate Tao Yashu already seated inside, enjoying tea and pastries with several other female guests.

Seeing Chu Linlang enter together with Madam Hua, Tao Yashu was momentarily startled, then gave a composed smile and nodded in greeting to Chu Linlang.

Within the Rongling Women’s Academy, this Miss Tao was in a class entirely of her own—not only because of her family background and upbringing, but also because of her dignified and elegant bearing, as well as her own wide-ranging scholarly talent. She was not to be underestimated.

However, Miss Tao had never been the sort to overwhelm others with her superiority. Though she was not warm toward her classmates, she also disdained to follow the example of Yixiu Junzhu and her ilk, who delighted in gossiping about other people’s shortcomings.

After attending a few classes together, Chu Linlang had noticed one particular thing about this young lady—she was very exacting about details.

For instance, Miss Tao’s hair bun was always the same style, with the hairpins never shifting position even by a fraction.

Between her cushion and her desk there had to be exactly three fists’ width of distance—not a fraction less. And the scholarly implements arranged on the desktop had to each be in their designated place without exception.

So even though Miss Tao had a maid attending her, there were moments when the maid fell short. Miss Tao had quite a good temper and never scolded anyone—she simply quietly corrected everything herself, one by one.

And of course there were times when things were beyond her control. Once during a class break, some playful classmates jostled carelessly and knocked the things on Tao Yashu’s desk into disarray.

Unfortunately, Tao Yashu was standing at the front of the hall at that very moment, being questioned by the instructor on the material during the mid-class review, and could not return to tidy things up.

As a result, with Miss Tao’s eyes fixed on the chaotic desktop, her gaze went blank, her body went rigid, and she was very nearly losing the thread of the text she was reciting.

It was Chu Linlang who noticed—she took a few quick steps over, deft hands and sharp eyes working together to set each item back in its proper place without a fraction out of position. Only then did Miss Tao regain steady control of her breathing, and gave a flawless and composed response to the instructor.

This kind of attentive, detail-oriented exchange, noticed only by Tao Yashu and Chu Linlang herself, went unseen by anyone else.

Yet from that point onward, Chu Linlang noticed that every time Tao Yashu looked her way and gave a slight nod and smile in greeting, it seemed to carry a few shades of genuine warmth.

This inexplicable kindred-spirit collision was actually rather amusing.

But Chu Linlang had no intention of letting what she had with Miss Tao develop into a deeper friendship.

By rights, a household of Tao family’s hereditary noble standing—even if Situ Sheng chose not to make an effort to cultivate the connection—should still be treated with proper care.

But that day, when she had the list of women’s academy students in hand and asked Situ Sheng to mark them by priority, he had paused his brush at this esteemed Miss Tao’s name, gone silent for a moment, and then marked her with a “third tier”—the designation meaning to keep one’s distance.

In Chu Linlang’s view, Situ Sheng’s pause was most unusual. Could it be that even at that time he had already known he would be offending the Tao ducal family over the matter of public service fields?

Chu Linlang had always made it a rule not to ask about Situ Sheng’s official affairs—if he had thought it over carefully before making the mark, there would certainly be a reason behind it that he wished to avoid.

And so when taking her seat, Chu Linlang deliberately chose a spot a little farther from Miss Tao and the others, and helped herself to tea and pastry while keeping her mouth quiet.

Before long, Guan Jinhe also arrived. Seeing Chu Linlang, she pulled her close friend along and came over to sit with Chu Linlang.

The two of them had earlier entrusted Chu Linlang to help purchase some face powder and rouge unique to the south of the Yangtze River, and today Chu Linlang, thinking she might run into them, had brought the items along—so right now she distributed the goods to them.

The Guan family household rules were strict, and Guan Jinhe normally had difficulty purchasing good face powder. It was fortunate to have a classmate who ran a shop and could procure all manner of curious and fine things. The other young ladies felt the same—they each thanked Niangzi Chu for her wide connections and for obtaining these hard-to-find popular items for them.

Chu Linlang smiled as she watched these girls in the bloom of their youth, thinking quietly to herself: it seemed she had never had such a carefree and innocent girlhood.

Who could have imagined that she would now, at the considerable age of twenty-four, enter a schoolroom and make a batch of young friends, slowly making up for the things she had not dared to dream of even in her girlhood…

At this time, in the center of the main hall, the noblewomen were eagerly discussing the batch of female officials who would be entering the palace three months hence.

On the surface, the ones being recruited were female officials to serve the Empress Dowager, but everyone understood in their hearts—this selection of female officials was meant to find outstanding women to fill the Emperor’s inner palace.

These women entering the palace would be accorded a different honor from that of other palace maids selected through ordinary means.

Though they would not enter the palace for another three months, the list of selected names had already been announced, and Tao Yashu was conspicuously on it. These three months were a period of strict training she was required to undergo before she could enter the palace and fulfill her duties. So in addition to her academy coursework, she had palace nannies coming to the Tao family home to give her separate instruction.

Those with discerning eyes all knew this was merely a formality—this Miss Tao was in all likelihood to be granted the rank of consort by the Emperor.

Given her family background, personal character, and appearance and talent, if she were to bear a child in the future, the long-vacant position of Empress might very well become this young lady’s for the taking.

And so, though she had only been selected as a female official, Miss Tao received the flattery and fawning of all the noblewomen around her.

Some even praised Tao Yashu quite overtly for her resemblance to the late Tao Empress—both with such dignified bearing.

Miss Tao accepted it all with a composed smile, listening quietly, while the hand hidden in her sleeve slowly rubbed at a barely perceptible crease in her skirt…

Watching Tao Yashu receive everyone’s adoration, Yixiu Junzhu beside her grew somewhat put out and said with a cold smile at just the right moment: “It’s only entering the palace to serve the Empress Dowager—becoming a female official—yet anyone who didn’t know better would think a consort’s title had already been granted, with all the favor of the inner palace secured!”

With this mockery out in the open, the whole hall fell silent—no one knew quite how to respond.

Miss Tao was generally a woman of few words, but when Yixiu Junzhu had given her no face in such a public setting, a measured and well-grounded counterattack was naturally in order.

She settled her smile and said: “Yixiu Junzhu is quite right—women like us enter the palace only to give our families and brothers a way to render service, and to do our part of filial piety before the Empress Dowager in her elder years. There is nothing worth boasting about. My abilities are thin and my talent modest—being favored by the Empress Dowager is something I meet with trepidation. I recall feeling quite uneasy even on the day I was summoned to her presence, and worried that having made careful preparations, I might at the last moment be passed over and not chosen at all—wouldn’t that be too much of a disgrace to show my face again?”

These words seemed humble, yet every single one of them struck straight at the heart of the Junzhu’s wound.

Who did not know that this Junzhu had also entered the palace to see the Empress Dowager—it was plain that the Yun family, too, had wanted to send another daughter into the palace to help consolidate their aunt’s imperial favor.

But when the Empress Dowager looked at the name list, she had frowned and said: “Since she has already been granted the title of Junzhu, she is already a junior member of the Emperor’s extended family—why would she come into the palace?” With that, she had struck the name Yixiu off the list with a single stroke of her brush.

That day, Yixiu had not even managed to see the Empress Dowager’s face, and had slunk out of the palace in embarrassment.

Now with Tao Yashu saying this, was it not a clear and shining mockery of the Junzhu’s failure to make the selection?

These words landed, and they truly infuriated the Junzhu until her complexion turned a tide of red. Had her mother not been sitting beside her and quietly pressing her down, she might not have been able to hold herself back and would have gone head-to-head with Tao Yashu outright.

Seeing her daughter mocked, Madam Yun—not a woman to be trifled with herself—intentionally laughed and said: “Of course those who are selected must go about things with great care and caution—after all, the honor and glory of the whole family depends on whether it can be carried on. My Yixiu is different—she lacks Miss Tao’s steadiness. Even if she entered the palace, she’d end up making a fool of herself. Better to keep her at home. She can’t be allowed to add to the troubles of the Empress Dowager in her old age. Her father will be looking for a fine match for her soon enough, and that’s something she doesn’t have the good fortune to share with Miss Tao.”

As she said this, Madam Yun was laughing inwardly until she was nearly in fits.

Others might not know—they might genuinely believe the Emperor adored the late Empress and therefore could not bring himself to install a new one.

But their Yun family, by virtue of Noble Consort Jing, knew the truth inside and out.

In those years, what the Emperor had cherished was not the principal wife Tao Shi, nor Noble Consort Jing—but rather Noble Consort Jing’s cousin who had died young.

As for that side consort named Fang Xiaonian who died young, there seemed to be another story behind her death—one vaguely connected to the Tao Empress.

In those days both were still young, with the Emperor still a Crown Prince, and from that point onward a rift had grown between him and his Crown Princess.

So the outside world’s long-celebrated myth of “harmonious accord between Emperor and Empress” and “the Emperor’s reluctance to install a new Empress out of longing for Tao Empress” was nothing but sheer nonsense!

How many people could know that even when Tao Empress was still alive, the Emperor had very nearly issued an edict to depose her?

Tao Empress had her face to consider, and moreover needed to protect her son’s position as Crown Prince, so she had never told anyone outside the palace or the Tao family about any of this, and only maintained the illusion of harmonious accord between Emperor and Empress.

The result was that, with neither Emperor nor Empress breaking the pretense, the shameless Tao family was left in blissful self-satisfaction, truly believing the bond between Emperor and Empress ran deep and that the old affection remained, and now they wanted to send another Tao Yashu—made in the image of Tao Empress—back in.

Even with the Empress Dowager’s assistance going in, what would be the use? That face alone would only make the Emperor feel a heartfelt revulsion.

The inner palace was a dragon’s den and a tiger’s lair. Setting aside everything else, the machinations alone of her elder sister-in-law Noble Consort Jing were enough to make Madam Yun’s heart go cold with dread.

It was fortunate that the Empress Dowager had taken a dislike to the Yun family and struck her daughter’s name off the list—so she would not have to enter the palace and compete for a share of the old man’s favor. Finding a match with an excellent young husband instead was the surest safeguard for a lifetime.

Madam Yun thought this, and felt her spirits rise considerably, and so turned the conversation to the matter of finding her daughter a marriage arrangement.

Meanwhile, when the sharp verbal exchanges in the main hall had been taking place a moment ago, Linlang had been sitting leisurely in the corner cracking melon seeds and listening to the excitement.

So it turned out that this Miss Tao, who was always composed and spoke little, had quite an impressive way with words. Clearly she was not someone easily provoked.

But it was hard to say whether it was because Noble Consort Jing was backing them—the Yun mother and daughter seemed utterly untroubled by the prospect of offending someone who might one day become the future Empress.

But on balance, Yixiu Junzhu was the luckier of the two.

In Chu Linlang’s view, if an old man married a young woman, and they had not grown up together from youth as in a childhood match, a girl in the full bloom of her years marrying an old man who could be her grandfather—even if he was the Son of Heaven—what joy could there possibly be in that?

If she were Tao Yashu’s mother, she could not bear to send her own daughter into the palace to attend on an old man.

Having finished listening to the gossip and finishing her tea and pastries, Chu Linlang could put her hands together and be on her way.

Madam Hua packed up several boxes of fresh flower cakes and pastries for Chu Linlang to bring back for Lord Situ.

And so after bidding farewell to her teacher’s wife, Chu Linlang boarded the carriage and prepared to head back.

Because of the Flower Festival, some trees in the marketplace that had not yet bloomed had red flowers fashioned from silk or red paper pasted onto their branches.

People dressed in bright, floral splendor laughed and joked all the way, surging toward the Flower Goddess Temple in the city center, blocking the roads such that the carriage could not move very quickly.

Chu Linlang looked at the road ahead and frowned, asking the carriage driver: “Why has he gone down this road? It’s so congested!”

The carriage driver looked apologetic: “I took a wrong turn at the junction just now and wasn’t paying attention—it’s too late to turn around now. But the street scenery is nice at the moment, Niangzi Chu—would you like to get down and walk a bit?”

Chu Linlang was feeling stiff in the legs from sitting in the carriage, and on hearing his suggestion, she simply got down, leading her maids and the young manservant and walking the rest of the way back, taking the opportunity to enjoy the fresh flowers arranged along the route.

Only, their direction of travel was opposite to the crowd heading toward the Flower Goddess Temple, so walking against the flow was cramped and tiring.

When they turned another corner, they simply abandoned the main road entirely and switched to a smaller alley running parallel, and though they could no longer see the flowers arranged along the route, the walking was considerably easier.

Linlang was preoccupied with tidying her hair, which had been jostled a bit out of place from the crowd, and paid absolutely no attention to the fact that several shifty, suspicious men had followed along behind them at some unknown moment.

As women naturally do, coming across anything reflective, she found herself wanting to check her reflection in it.

As she turned a corner, Chu Linlang used a yin-yang mirror hanging above a courtyard gate nearby to check her temples—and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be several men walking the same direction as her, not far behind at all.

At first it was only a casual glance, but a woman’s instincts made her begin to pay deliberate attention to what was behind her. She found that no matter how she walked, those few men kept following at a distance that was neither too close nor too far…