Zheng Yun set the spear back in its place and strode quickly to the window, pushing it open.

A cold draft swept in. Outside, there was nothing but darkened trees and the vast, empty courtyard of the Military Police Department.

“Meow.”

From the wall not far away came a cat’s cry. A black cat glanced in his direction, then dropped silently out of sight.

Only after confirming there was no one there did Zheng Yun close the window. He then checked inside and out one more time before switching off the lights and leaving.

The moonlight reflected off the blue-stone road in the night, bright enough that even past nine o’clock it was never truly dark.

Several of the street lamps along the road had gone out, and only a scattered few were still burning.

Zheng Yun walked at a quick pace, trying to catch the last tram of the night. If he missed it, he would have a full hour’s walk home.

The platform was empty — he stood there alone, looking solitary.

In the cold night wind, he wore the Military Police Department’s long overcoat, hands tucked in his pockets. His handsome profile was half lit, half shadowed in the glow of the street lamp.

He hung his head, staring at the road beneath his feet, lost in some private thought.

It was not until the tram arrived that he raised his head, dug some coins from his pocket, and boarded with long strides.

After the rumbling of the tram faded away, a figure finally emerged from a distant corner. That person stared after the direction the tram had gone, transfixed — long after the rear light of the tram had vanished from sight and the clatter of its wheels had faded into silence, she was still standing there, gazing.

After some time — how long, no one could say — the street was utterly empty. Only then did she slowly withdraw her gaze, concealing the glimmer in her eyes.

“Zheng Yun — farewell.” Ling’ai lowered her head, then tilted her face upward, forcing back the tears that were about to spill. “This should be the last time we ever see each other.”

She murmured to herself in the cold night wind, her eyes full of reluctance and sorrow — yet in the end, she turned around and walked away, heading in the opposite direction from the tram.

Zheng Yun — farewell!

“Zheng Yun. Zheng Yun.”

Zheng Yun woke from his dream, staring up at the empty ceiling, his eyes blank and dazed.

It was strange. Ever since Ling’ai had left him, he had longed to see her in his dreams every night — and yet not once had she appeared. Not once.

People say you dream of what occupies your thoughts by day. And yet, no matter how much he thought of her each day, she was stingy — she refused to appear in his dreams, not even for a brief, fleeting moment of warmth.

But tonight, unexpectedly, he had dreamed of her. In the dream she was only a blurred shadow, calling his name over and over: Zheng Yun, Zheng Yun.

He heard her voice, and yet he could not wake. He reached out to take her hand, but his arm felt as though it had been filled with lead.

In an agony of urgency, he could give her no response at all.

Just as that voice grew more and more distant, he finally managed to open his eyes.

His gaze fixed on some point in the void, his thoughts scattered and slow to gather — until the sound of knocking at the door outside pulled him back to reality.

Zheng Yun got out of bed and glanced at the clock. It was already past seven.

He normally had a habit of rising early to practice his martial arts — usually up before dawn. Today, that dream had made him oversleep.

Zheng Yun threw on a coat and went to the front door.

“Chief Zheng.” Standing outside was Di Huai.

“Di Huai?” Zheng Yun blinked. “Did my sister-in-law send you?”

Di Huai nodded, his tone a little anxious: “The Young Mistress asked me to inform the Chief — Miss Ling’ai may be about to leave Shun Cheng.”

“Where is she now?”

“Miss Ling’ai left the Shi Mansion yesterday and went home with Hui Cun. This morning the Young Mistress heard from Lou’er, the maid looking after her, that when Miss Ling’ai and Hui Cun were leaving, she said some things — the meaning seemed to be that she had plans to travel.”

“I understand.” Zheng Yun said, and then bolted out the door.

Dawn had just broken. The streets were only beginning to come alive, and many rickshaw pullers had been parked along the roadside since before daylight, waiting for passengers.

Rickshaws were especially plentiful in the neighborhood where Hui Cun lived, for many politicians resided in that area and they typically travelled by rickshaw.

Zheng Yun arrived at the gate of Hui Cun’s home and knocked hard.

He knocked for a long time, but there was no response, and no one came to open the door.

Zheng Yun threw caution aside. He stepped back a few paces, then ran up, kicked off the wall and scrambled over it.

At this point, he cared nothing for propriety or appearances. All he wanted was to see her, and quickly. He had missed his chance once; he would not let it happen a second time.

He would not let Ling’ai leave him — no matter what, he would find a way to keep her here.

Zheng Yun landed lightly in Hui Cun’s courtyard. It was not a large compound, and the buildings were all visible at a glance. He had visited once at night, in his urgency to see Ling’ai, with no time then to take in the layout.

Now, the courtyard was silent and still, without a trace of life.

Zheng Yun’s instincts told him the place might already be empty.

After searching each room in turn, he found no one at all. Everything that could be taken away had been removed from its place; only a few large pieces of furniture remained.

Zheng Yun found Ling’ai’s room. It was bare and stripped — aside from the desk, chair, and bed, it was completely empty.

Just as he was turning to leave, he noticed that one side of the bed curtain had been left hanging down. He lifted it, and on the bedside table he found a doll.

It was the porcelain doll he had given to Ling’ai — made to order in her likeness.

She had said she loved that doll dearly, that she always kept it beside her when she slept. Now the doll sat quietly here, as if standing in for its owner to bid him farewell.

“Ling’ai.” Zheng Yun’s eyes burned. He bent down and picked up the doll.

He gently stroked its face, his eyes growing more and more aching.

“Have you truly just gone like this? Will you leave me no hope at all?” Zheng Yun stared at some point beyond the window, the doll gripped tightly in his hand.

Then, from outside, came the sound of a door opening. Zheng Yun caught it with sharp ears and ran out at once.

A middle-aged man had entered the courtyard. Seeing him, the man startled. “You — who are you?”

“Uncle, could you tell me where Hui Cun has gone?” Zheng Yun asked urgently. His instincts told him this middle-aged man must be an acquaintance of Hui Cun’s.

“Hui Cun is returning to Di Guo. He’s left all matters here in my hands to deal with.” The middle-aged man said. “This house he has asked me to list for sale at the exchange, and a few other properties as well — all of it to be handled by me.”

“Returning to Di Guo? What about his work here?”

The middle-aged man looked Zheng Yun up and down, seeming reluctant to say more about Hui Cun’s affairs.

Zheng Yun quickly drew his credentials from his overcoat pocket. “I am with the Military Police Department. Hui Cun and I are old acquaintances.”

The middle-aged man examined the credentials and then said: “Ah, so it’s Chief Zheng — my apologies for not recognizing you.”

He gestured toward the house. “Hui Cun left in quite a hurry — they departed in the middle of the night. As for his work here, a representative from Prince Wen Ren will likely come to take over. Hui Cun’s stated reason for leaving is that he has fallen gravely ill and must return to his home country.”

“And his daughter — did she go back to Di Guo with him?”

“I heard Hui Cun say that Miss Ai Zi plans to study abroad. Before going abroad, she intends to travel through Xin Guo for a while.”

Zheng Yun felt a surge of excitement on hearing this. That meant Ling’ai would not be leaving immediately — she should still be in Xin Guo.

“Do you know where she plans to travel? Which places?”

The middle-aged man shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Hui Cun didn’t elaborate, and naturally I couldn’t ask too many questions.”

“Thank you very much.” Zheng Yun clasped his hands in a brief bow and strode out the gate at a quick pace.

Zheng Yun ran in the direction of the train station. If Ling’ai was still in Xin Guo, she would have to take a train to leave Shun Cheng.

And the early morning trains departing from Shun Cheng numbered only a handful. If he searched carefully, he would surely find some trace of her.

Zheng Yun arrived at the train station, drenched in sweat. He gave himself no time to catch his breath and went straight to the dispatch office.

The office director was an old acquaintance of his. Seeing him arrive, the director was also taken aback. “Chief Zheng, is there a case?”

Because of his casework, Zheng Yun often dealt with Director Xue, and whenever Director Xue saw him, his instinct was to think of criminal matters.

“Director Xue, I’d like to see the timetable of trains departing from Shun Cheng this morning.”

“Of course, let me get it.”

Director Xue quickly returned with a printed schedule and also poured a cup of water: “Did you run all the way here? Have some water first.”

Zheng Yun said thank you and took a long drink.

“The earliest train this morning went to Qiao’an County — it left at five thirty. Oh, and a train just departed not long ago. Including that one, seven trains have already left Shun Cheng this morning, heading to various towns and counties.”

“Seven.”

Zheng Yun took the schedule and looked it over carefully.

“Director Xue, could you show me the list of all stops for these routes?”

“Of course.”

Director Xue quickly produced several route maps for Zheng Yun. “Chief Zheng, here are the stops and times for each train.”

“Thank you.” Zheng Yun examined the stations one by one.

Director Xue wanted to ask what sort of case was so pressing, but then he noticed that Zheng Yun was clutching a doll tightly in his hands. That made him think this might not be a case at all.

If the Chief were investigating a crime, why would he be carrying a porcelain doll? Unless the doll was somehow connected to the case?

Seven trains, headed to different cities, with dozens upon dozens of stops in total.

Zheng Yun scanned through them quickly, trying to find the stop where Ling’ai might have gone.

“Chief Zheng, is there anything I can do to help? I know these routes quite well.” Director Xue offered helpfully from the side.

Zheng Yun’s entire attention was fixed on the route map. Whatever Director Xue had said, he hadn’t heard a word of it.

Then, abruptly, his gaze locked onto a place name. In that instant, a tide of emotion surged through his heart.

~

The train jolted along, leaving Shun Cheng further and further behind. The scenery on both sides gradually grew unfamiliar.

In all the years she had lived in Xin Guo, Ling’ai had rarely left Shun Cheng. The times she had done so were few enough to count on one hand — among them, the trip she had taken with Zheng Yun to Hai Cheng on official business.

And now, alone, carrying the longing she felt for him and the resolve with which she had given him up, she had resolutely set out on this journey.