Outside the operating room, Shi Ting offered Liu Huan more reassurance. “She’s going to be all right.”

“Yes, she’ll be all right. She’ll be all right.” Liu Huan pressed his palms together, praying without cease. “Heaven protect her. Heaven protect her.”

After what seemed like an eternity, the operating room doors finally swung open, and a doctor strode out.

“Doctor, what’s the news?” Liu Huan rushed forward.

“The bleeding has been stopped.” The doctor removed his mask with a look of relief. “It was all thanks to Miss Yan.”

“Wonderful. Truly wonderful.” Liu Huan finally broke into a joyful smile. He turned and seized Shi Ting by the arm. “Xingzhi, did you hear that? Your sister is all right.”

Shi Ting, too, could not conceal his delight. “Yes. She’s all right.”

“And the baby?” Only now did Liu Huan think to ask about the child.

“A boy — everything is fine.” The doctor said, “They are finishing the suturing inside. You’ll be able to see him shortly.”

When Shi Xin was brought to her room, the little baby had been washed clean and placed in his cradle.

Yan Qing was entertaining the infant while Liu Huan and Shi Ting stood at Shi Xin’s bedside, both wearing the look of people who had just survived a narrow escape.

“Xin’er, I knew you’d be all right.” Liu Huan held her hand and pressed it to his face. “I knew you couldn’t bear to leave me.”

Shi Xin smiled weakly. “It was all thanks to Yan Qing. She is the one who saved both my life and the baby’s.”

“Yes.” Liu Huan looked toward Yan Qing with deep gratitude. “I haven’t even had a chance to thank her properly yet.”

Hearing this, Yan Qing smiled. “I only did what I should. Please don’t say another word of thanks, Third Sister — or Brother-in-law either.”

“We are all family here — there’s no need to stand on ceremony.” Shi Ting looked over at Yan Qing, his gaze soft with warmth. “Besides, Yan Qing is going to be the little one’s aunt-in-law.”

At the words “aunt-in-law,” Yan Qing’s face flushed, and she couldn’t help throwing Shi Ting a reproachful glance.

Liu Huan and Shi Xin both laughed. “Quite right, quite right — Xingzhi is absolutely correct. We are all family here, so there’s no need to be polite.”

He finally had the peace of mind to go and look at the baby. Only now did he notice that the little one had his eyes closed the whole time, though the outer corners of his eyes were fine and long — remarkably like his mother’s.

“Yan Qing, would you like to give the child a name?” Liu Huan suggested.

“Me?” Yan Qing pointed at herself, then quickly waved her hand. “Oh no, I couldn’t — I wouldn’t know how to name a child.”

Shi Xin chimed in as well. “The little one’s aunt-in-law is the most celebrated literary talent in all of Shun Cheng. The name should come from you.”

“Third Sister, don’t tell me you’re teasing me along with Shi Ting.”

“Not at all — you really are going to be his aunt-in-law. Not officially yet, perhaps, but it won’t be long.”

Shi Ting suppressed a smile, shrugging his shoulders at her with an air of pure enjoyment.

“All right then.” Yan Qing gave in and thought it over carefully. “‘The morning dew glistens in the light of the sage-king’s sun; the gentle breeze enters the strings of the wise emperor’s zither’ — why not call him Liu Zhan?”

“‘The morning dew glistens in the light of the sage-king’s sun; the gentle breeze enters the strings of the wise emperor’s zither’ — Liu Zhan.” Liu Huan repeated the lines aloud, and a look of delighted surprise spread across his face. “What a wonderful pair of lines.”

“Liu Zhan.” Shi Xin gazed tenderly at her son. “It’s beautiful. That will be his name.”

Yan Qing gave Shi Ting a smug look, as if seeking credit. Shi Ting couldn’t help reaching over and ruffling her hair, his expression full of fond indulgence.

“Today is the seventeenth of October — his pet name can simply be Shíqī,” Shi Xin said with a smile. “As for his courtesy name, we can have Jing Xian come up with one later.”

On the day of little Shíqī’s one-month celebration, it happened to coincide with the New Year, and the Liu Mansion threw a lively full-moon banquet.

After the New Year came the final lunar month, and Bei Di by this time was locked in bitter cold.

Yan Qing’s legs were recovering at a visible pace. Without anyone to support her, she could now take seven or eight steps on her own — though each step was still slow and deliberate.

Yan Qing was practicing walking in her room when Jing Zhi came in carrying a telegram. “Miss, a telegram for you.”

A radiant-floor heater warmed the room to a comfortable temperature. Yan Qing took the telegram and saw that it was from her uncle Wen Xu.

It turned out that in the final lunar month, the Taishan area had a tradition of slaughtering pigs for the New Year, and Wen Xu had sent a telegram inviting Yan Qing to come and enjoy pork.

Yan Qing understood that the pig feast was only a pretext — her uncle, whom she had not seen in a long while, simply wanted to take this opportunity to see her. Since Wen Wan had passed away, the only family Wen Xu had left in the world, beyond his own household, was Yan Qing.

“Miss, I’ve heard that Taishan is especially lively in the final lunar month — far more fun than our Shun Cheng.” Jing Zhi was almost bouncing with excitement.

“It’s the food you’re after, isn’t it,” Yan Qing said with a helpless smile. She carefully put the telegram away.

“Miss, you must take me with you.” Jing Zhi pleaded.

“I can only bring one of you,” Yan Qing said. “Second Aunt is still overseeing the arrangements for my wedding — someone needs to stay and look after things here.”

“I’m not competing with you.” Murong walked in, her ears slightly pink from the cold outside. “Everyone knows you only care about eating. If you go to Taishan, not only will there be pork, there’ll be fresh seafood too. I’m just afraid you’ll eat yourself to bursting and not be able to look after Miss properly.”

“Murong, you’re the best.” Jing Zhi took hold of her arm and gave it an affectionate shake. “I’ll bring back something delicious for you.”

“Just don’t come back so round you can barely walk,” Murong said with a laugh, tapping the top of her head.

Yan Qing got herself ready and went to find her father. When he heard she wanted to go to Taishan, Yan Xu raised no objection. “It has been some time since you and your uncle last saw each other. It’s good to visit before you are married. Only — I do worry a little about you going alone.”

“Last time I went out alone, I came back perfectly fine, didn’t I?” Yan Qing reassured him. “Don’t worry, Father — I’ll take care of myself. I’ll bring back fresh blood sausage for you.”

Blood sausage was a specialty of the Taishan region — fresh pig’s blood mixed with minced meat and seasoning, stuffed into the pig intestines and boiled, then sliced while hot and eaten with a garlic dipping sauce. The blood was tender and smooth, the casing crisp and fragrant, with a flavor all its own.

Yan Xu gave a quiet sigh, then smiled. “All right, all right. I’ll look forward to it.”

Yan Qing had Murong buy the train tickets, then wrote a letter to Shi Ting, sealed it, and sent it out.

On the day of departure, the train station was packed with people. Jing Zhi trailed behind Yan Qing carrying a large trunk, puffing hard under the effort.

Only now did Jing Zhi appreciate how important Murong was. If Murong had been here, all this heavy lifting wouldn’t have fallen to her.

As it happened, there wasn’t too large a crowd. Jing Zhi was preparing to help Yan Qing board first and then carry the wheelchair up, but the moment she set the trunk down, a man appeared out of nowhere, grabbed it, and ran.

The man ran very fast. Jing Zhi wanted to give chase but was afraid to leave Yan Qing unattended. In desperation she stamped her foot and cried out at the top of her lungs, “Stop, thief! Stop, thief!”

The station was busy with people coming and going, yet not a single person who heard the cry moved to do anything.

Jing Zhi watched helplessly as the man made off with her trunk, and burst into tears from sheer frustration.

“Miss, what do we do?” Jing Zhi wiped at her eyes.

“I still have some money on me, and the tickets are in my hands,” Yan Qing said, doing her best to comfort her. “We’ll be fine getting to Taishan.”

“But Miss, all the gifts you prepared for Uncle, Cousin, and the young cousins are in that trunk.”

“Never mind. I’ll explain it to Uncle — he won’t care.”

As the two of them were talking, Yan Qing suddenly caught sight of the man being hauled by the collar back through the crowd.

Her face lit up in surprise. Before she could think, the words were out: “Shi Ting.”

The one dragging the man by the collar was Shi Ting’s attendant Jin Shan. As he walked, he kicked the man in the backside several times. “You wretched scoundrel — you dare steal from anyone, do you? Are you tired of living?”

The petty thug, realizing he had angered someone far beyond his means to handle, went on begging for mercy without pause.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of the station’s security office, and two officers came and took the thug away.

“It’s Director Shi!” Jing Zhi exclaimed, both startled and overjoyed. “This is wonderful.”

The moment Shi Ting drew close, he bent down and scooped Yan Qing up from her wheelchair, strode onto the train in a few great steps, and Jin Shan — possessed of remarkable strength — carried the wheelchair in one hand and the trunk in the other as he followed along. Halfway up, he paused and glanced back, winking at Jing Zhi. “Jing Zhi, are you coming? What are you standing there staring at?”

Jing Zhi snapped out of her daze and hurried after them.

Once they reached Yan Qing’s compartment, Shi Ting finally set her down. He had carried her through the whole train without ceremony, drawing no small number of stares along the way, and Yan Qing found herself feeling rather self-conscious.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Not having seen him for the past few days, she was naturally happy.

The Military Police Directorate had been so overwhelmed with business lately that he hadn’t written to her in days.

“I got your letter and learned you were going to Taishan, so I came to see you off.” Shi Ting sat down beside her and pulled her hand into his.

Yan Qing noticed that Jing Zhi and the others hadn’t yet caught up, so she leaned her head against his shoulder. “I thought you’d be too busy to come and see me off.”

“I can still spare a little time for this.” Shi Ting pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Outside the window, most of the passengers had already boarded. Only the friends and family seeing them off still lingered on the platform, gazing up at the train.

The loudspeaker in the carriage corridor crackled with an announcement urging any passengers who had not yet boarded to hurry up.

Yan Qing checked her watch and nudged his arm. “The train is about to leave. You should go down. I’ll write to you when I get to Taishan.”

“No rush.” He drew her close and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll jump out the window once the train starts moving.”

Yan Qing laughed. “Only you could think of that. If someone recognized you, I’d die of embarrassment on your behalf.”

“Then I’ll wait until no one’s looking.”

“At that point the train will have picked up speed — you’d be killed.” Yan Qing pushed him again. “Come on, you really need to go. You’ll run out of time.”

“I’ll go.” He pointed at his own lips. “But surely Miss Yan ought to give me something to carry with me.”

“Shi Ting!” Yan Qing glared at him.

The man in front of her was, predictably, entirely unmoved. He looked at her with patient, hopeful eyes.

With the train just about to move, Yan Qing could no longer afford to think too much. She pursed her lips and quickly pressed them to his.

Shi Ting touched his lips, a gleam of satisfied triumph flickering in his eyes.

At that moment, the train whistle shrieked, and the train began to roll slowly forward.

“Shi Ting, the train is moving! Go, now!” Yan Qing was alarmed.

Shi Ting settled himself comfortably down on the bunk. “Who said I was leaving?”

—