Hua Zhi glanced at the sky. She had no more time to waste on words. She seized the reins, spurred the horse, and departed. She could not afford further delay — she still had to return before the city gates closed.

Hua Bailin chased after her a few steps, then stopped, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. All he could feel was worry for his elder sister. Could she — this sister who had always been reluctant even to venture out to the cosmetics quarter — truly manage to catch up to their father?

The customs of the Great Qing Kingdom were not among the most liberal. There were women of good families who knew how to ride, but a young lady galloping at full speed down an open road was something that had simply never been seen.

A carriage was stopped at the side of the road ahead. The driver lifted the curtain, and out stepped a man of remarkable height, with a face of striking handsomeness. At the sound of the rapid, rhythmic hoofbeats, he turned his head instinctively — and revealed a scar on his right cheek, running from just below his ear to the corner of his mouth. Yet somehow that scar did not mar his appearance. If anything, it lent a harder edge of masculinity to features that might otherwise have been too fine.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw who was on horseback.

“Master — shall I look into this person’s identity?”

“The order of the capital is not my concern.” He watched the woman slow her horse before she turned onto the main thoroughfare, and understood at once that she knew exactly what she was doing — she would give no one cause to find fault with her.

The city’s main street was thick with carriages and pedestrians. No matter how urgently Hua Zhi wanted to press forward, she had to keep her heels tight and her speed controlled. Only warhorses were permitted to gallop on this road — no one else, not prince, not nobleman, held that privilege. Least of all her: a woman of the Hua Family whose household had just been seized.

Enduring the stares from all sides with her patience stretched thin, she finally cleared the city gates. Hua Zhi urged the horse into a full gallop.

Had she truly been nothing more than what she appeared — a proper young lady of good family — she would naturally have been terrified setting out alone. But within her, what had resided for fifteen years now was the fully adult soul of someone from another world entirely. All these years she had applied herself wholeheartedly to becoming a well-bred gentlewoman of the household, but she had not limited herself to needlework and the arts of music and painting. She had read extensively, covering all manner of subjects. Every geographical record available on the market she had worked her way through, and she had even studied the regional maps of the Great Qing Kingdom many times over at her grandfather’s side. She knew how many routes led to the Northern Territories. Exiled prisoners traveled only by official roads — if she followed this one, she would catch up.

After roughly half a quarter of an hour’s ride, Hua Zhi saw in the distance a large group of people — clearly, men in plain undershirts with the prisoners, and officers in uniform, were easy to distinguish at a glance.

The founding Emperor of the Great Qing Kingdom had been born a commoner. It was the oppression of the previous dynasty that had driven him to raise his banner in revolt. The laws he established afterward were far less harsh than those of the dynasty before him, and the most celebrated among them was the abolition of punishment extending to nine familial lines. When an official committed a crime, only his own immediate family bore the consequences, and crimes did not extend to married-out daughters.

In the Hua Family’s case, for instance, those exiled alongside them consisted only of the direct line bearing the Hua surname and three collateral branches: Grandfather Hua Yizheng’s younger full brother, his younger half-brother, and a cousin. Across all four families, fifty-four people in total had been sentenced to exile, along with some loyal servants who had chosen to accompany them of their own accord.

Drawing closer, Hua Zhi saw that her grandfather and the others all wore shackles on their hands and feet. The ache in her chest was something she could barely stand. When had her grandfather — who would change his clothes the moment a single crease appeared — ever been subjected to such humiliation?

The sound of the hoofbeats caught the attention of those ahead. The lead officer raised his hand to halt the procession and rode forward to meet her. “Who goes there?”

It was something of a pretense, of course. The moment the officer had spotted the bundles on her person and across the horse’s back, he had understood perfectly well who she was and what she was about. At moments like these, officers typically saw a fine opportunity for some extra earnings. What family member didn’t want the prisoner in their care to receive a little consideration along the way? Never mind that the household had just been stripped bare — even a sinking ship still has three thousand nails, and all the more so a century-old family like the Huas.

Hua Zhi dismounted and gave a respectful bow, then stepped forward with one of the bundles held out. “I am from the Hua Family. It has been a long and tiring journey for you and your men, Officer. These are a few provisions — please accept them as a token of appreciation.”

The officer took it and gave it a squeeze. Satisfied, he nodded. “I’ll accept them then with thanks. I’ll give you the time it takes one stick of incense to burn — make it brief.”

“I am most grateful.”

Hua Zhi led her horse over to where the Hua Family members stood. The others all watched as she approached, each of them having hoped that someone from home would come — yet none had imagined it would be this eldest granddaughter of the first branch, ordinarily so unremarkable.

Her father, Hua Pingyu, cleared his throat gently and softened his voice. “Zhi’er. Why have you come?”

“Someone had to.” Hua Zhi passed the bundles to them one by one. Ten people from the direct line were to be exiled. When she handed the bundle to her third uncle, she pressed his hand briefly against a particular spot on it. He understood immediately and gave a small nod.

Fifteen years had been more than enough for her to learn the nature of every person in the household. Her father and third uncle both took after her grandfather — classic scholars in temperament. Her second uncle, being a concubine-born son, had never held any influence in the family, and was not a particularly outstanding person himself. Whatever grievances he might harbor privately, they all remained within the limits her grandfather quietly permitted.

Only her fourth uncle was of a different mold entirely. When it came to quick thinking and practical intelligence, neither her father nor her third uncle could match him. It was her fourth uncle whom Hua Zhi counted on most, once they reached the Northern Territories.

“It is cold there. I have brought the knee warmers and wrist guards, and a change of thick clothing for everyone — Mother and Second Aunt and Third Aunt rushed to make them. The warmth gets washed out, so wear them through for a while before washing. Don’t rush to clean them.”

The Hua Family had never lacked for intelligent people. Everyone understood at once and confirmed with a nod.

“The Empress Dowager preserved us. Everyone at home is safe. The old residence cannot be lived in anymore, so we have moved to the house in the south of the city.” Hua Zhi glanced at the officers not far away and lowered her voice. “Grandfather — I need to know what crime you were charged with.”

“Zhi’er, you should not go meddling in court affairs…”

“If Zhi’er wishes to know, I will tell her.” Hua Yizheng cut off his eldest son and lowered his voice in turn. “The Emperor has long delayed naming a Crown Prince. Strife between the two princes has brought suffering to those caught between them. I failed to hold my tongue and said several things at the wrong moment, striking the Emperor’s nerves and drawing his fury. That is all there is to it.”

A breath of relief left Hua Zhi’s lips. “It does not matter. Grandfather, you were simply caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once it has passed, there will still be a chance to set things right. Use the money as you need to when you get there — don’t worry about it running short. I will find a way to earn more. But you must take care of yourself above all. Grandfather, you must promise me.”

Hua Yizheng, at what was in every outer sense the most wretched moment of his life, smiled. “My eye has never been wrong. Is that not so?”

Hua Zhi’s nose stung and her eyes reddened. Among all the grandchildren in the family, it was she alone whom her grandfather had kept beside him from childhood and personally guided. He had taught her to write character by character with his own hand, personally directed her in music, chess, painting, and calligraphy. She had always believed she had concealed herself very well — that not a hint of her true nature had ever slipped through. She had never understood why her grandfather treated her so differently from the others.

Now she understood. No matter how convincingly she played the child, an adult soul could never truly take on a child’s way of thinking. When there was reason to fear, she had not feared; when there was reason to be startled, she had not been startled; when there was reason to rejoice, she had not rejoiced. A man as perceptive as her grandfather — how could he have missed what set her apart?

“Grandfather, I will not disappoint you.”

Hua Yizheng patted her on the shoulder. “Take care of everyone at home. Your grandmother will be finding this very hard to bear.”

“I know. Do not worry.”

He glanced over at the other family branches standing apart from them at a distance, and sighed. “Where you can lend those families a hand, do so. In the end, it was my actions that brought this on them.”

“Yes.”

Hua Yizheng took a step away and said no more.