In the days she spent at Yinshan Pass, Hua Zhi slept for a good portion of the time, and spent the rest visiting her family in their lodgings, telling them what they most wanted to know about the loved ones they had left behind.

When she walked the streets, she was aware of many eyes following her — in the inn, every time she came down the stairs, there would be a brief hush. The gazes that found her were curious, or quietly astonished, but none of them carried ill intent.

Before setting out, she had made a point of reading all the books she could find that touched on Yinshan Pass. She had studied its geography and knew its terrain well. She could speak to the celebrated figures of the Wu Family, who had garrisoned this place for more than a century, and had even made inquiries into the local customs and practices, all for fear of giving offense and making things harder for the Hua Family’s footing here. She was a woman, and there were places some regions did not permit women to enter — thankfully, Yinshan Pass was not among them.

She had also worried that the northerners would be difficult to deal with, and that the Hua Family, being scholars and gentle souls through and through, would come off badly in any conflict. But when she actually arrived, she discovered that she, too, had fallen into the trap of repeating what everyone else said.

The people here were certainly tall and sturdy — even on days when water froze on contact with the air, some of them would bare their shoulders and rub snow on their skin. But they hadn’t used their strength to bully those who had been exiled here. On the contrary, they tended to look out for them, quietly, in the way one looks after one’s own.

When you thought about it, the logic was simple enough. Of all those sent here in exile, very few ever returned to the world of wealth and splendor. Most of them eventually put down roots here, grew old here, and died here.

Perhaps the Hua Family had already been counted among them. I won’t resign myself to that, Hua Zhi thought. Not ever.

Even if the reigning Emperor’s word could not be undone — he would die. Fifty years old, already close to the average lifespan of a Da Qing ruler. When the next sovereign ascended the throne, there would be a way. She would find one.

She would see to it that Bailin rose high enough, went far enough, that the new Emperor would come to know him — would hear what he asked, and grant what he sought.

She stepped out of the inn into the dazzling white glare of a winter sun. Little warmth reached her skin, but something in her chest felt brighter, like sunlight filtering in. The faces passing her on the street all seemed to carry more smiles than before.

“I should be heading back.”

Gu Yanxi was not surprised. They had been here three days. The purpose of the visit had been accomplished. Given the Hua Family’s circumstances, Hua Zhi could not afford to linger.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

Hua Zhi glanced at him, then said nothing. She gathered her cloak around her and walked toward the nearby lodgings.

He walked her to the door and watched until she had gone inside, then turned and left. He had arrangements of his own to see to.

Today was a rest day — and even on days when there was ordinarily no rest, everyone had asked for leave and stayed home. The old master had required it.

The younger generation of the family were all gathered in the courtyard. Their eyes kept drifting toward the gate, and when they saw Hua Zhi come in, they all called out a greeting. She smiled at these siblings she had once gone a whole month without seeing more than a handful of times, and by the time she reached the doorway of the main room, the heavy curtain was already being lifted from within.

Hua Baili stood there, straight and slight as a young poplar, eyes lit with brightness. “Elder Sister.”

“You look much better.” Hua Zhi entered the room and made a bow of greeting to the assembled elders.

A note of warmth colored Hua Yizheng’s voice. “It’s not only the young ones who have improved — my cough has eased considerably as well. The physician you brought along is no ordinary talent.”

Hua Zhi pretended not to notice the beckoning gesture from her fourth uncle and went to stand beside her father. “She’ll be staying here for a while. That’s actually ideal — it gives her time to treat you properly and see that the root of the illness is dealt with, not just the symptoms.”

“Won’t she be returning with you? Does she have a proper place to stay here?”

“You needn’t worry about that. Just let her do as she pleases. The person behind her is of considerable standing, and she is more than capable of looking after herself. I doubt anyone here could give her trouble.”

Hua Yizheng was an astute man. He grasped the implication immediately and asked nothing further.

Hua Pingyu finally found an opening and spoke, with a deliberate light cough to announce himself. “Baili, bring your elder sister a chair. We should speak sitting down.”

If only the immediate family elders had been present, Hua Zhi would have felt comfortable taking a full chair — they were family, and no one would think to criticize her for it. But today, all the branches of the Hua Family were gathered together, and the senior generation of the collateral lines were there as well. She could hardly sit as their equal. She was just about to remind Baili to bring a low stool instead, when she saw that her half-brother had already picked up a small stool and placed it beside their father’s feet.

She smiled at him. Hua Baili’s eyes grew even brighter.

After going through the expected round of questions — some that had occurred to people only today, others that had already been asked more than once — by the time everyone’s questions had run dry, noon had come. It was then that Hua Zhi announced her decision. “I plan to set out for home tomorrow.”

A quiet settled over the room. Hua Pingyu asked before he had time to think: “So soon? You’ve only just arrived.”

“When I was at home, I worried about all of you. Now that I’m here, I’m worried about home.” Hua Zhi smiled with faint self-deprecation. “Grandmother isn’t as young as she once was. I need to be there to help.”

“She’s right to go. The later you leave, the colder the journey.” Hua Yizheng called out: “Chen Shan, go and check how the meal is coming along — tell them to hurry it up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve all had days to ask your questions — I imagine you’ve said most of what you wanted to say. Once we’ve eaten, let everyone go and prepare. If there’s anything you’d like Zhi’er to bring back, go and get it ready. But nothing too heavy.”

Everyone agreed in unison.

They ate a meal that was warm, if not particularly lively, and then Hua Zhi followed her grandfather back to his room.

Hua Yizheng nodded toward the chess board. “Keep an old man company for a game.”

Hua Zhi was a person of two natures, and that was true in this as well: she could write in bold, sweeping cursive, or in delicate, fine script; and at the chess board, she could either build her position slowly and hold a patient, unyielding defense, or press forward in relentless attack.

In the past, when playing her grandfather, she had almost always worked within a defensive framework. But today, her style shifted from the very first move — an offensive of full, sweeping force.

The formations she laid out were broad and decisive, and even the traps were laid in plain sight: avoid one, and you fell into another; escape that one, and you’d find yourself hemmed in on all sides.

Hua Pingyang had come in just after the game began, and the more he watched, the more unsettled he became. This Zhi’er was like a sharpened blade finally drawn from its scabbard — her edge absolute and unsparing.

His father was still holding his own, meeting each move with a counter, matching her stroke for stroke. Had it been Hua Pingyang himself sitting across from her, he felt sure he would have been beaten long ago.

Hua Yizheng was playing with a gravity he had never brought to a game before. After each of his moves, he had already looked ahead five or ten steps. Decades of deep immersion in the game had given him that capacity, and it was no wonder he possessed it — but gradually, he found that Zhi’er was keeping pace with him. Every time he placed a stone, she was already following, and the faster he moved, the more closely she matched him. Even when he slowed, she remained close behind, pressing without relenting.

“A draw.” Hua Pingyang stared at the board, densely covered in black and white stones, and found that he had no words left for what he was feeling. Zhi’er had played Hua Yizheng to a standstill.

A faint sheen of perspiration had gathered at Hua Zhi’s temples. She had truly given her full effort.

“Grandfather let me have the advantage.”

“I didn’t let you anything. This is my ordinary level of play.” Hua Yizheng’s gaze had not moved from the board — more precisely, it was fixed on that long black formation she had constructed. The move with which he had blocked it had been barely sufficient, and he had felt, faintly but unmistakably, that he was on the verge of being unable to contain it. If he had been even a step slower, he would have lost.

“Zhi’er, when you played me in the past, how much of your ability did you actually use?”

“All of it.” Hua Zhi ran her fingers slowly over the rough surface of the board, missing a little the set her grandfather usually used — the pieces that felt warm the moment they settled in the hand. “Defense is inherently harder than offense. All things considered, attack is what I do better.”

Hua Yizheng looked at her, and smiled. The Hua Family’s current situation called for far more than a passive defense to turn the tide.

Author’s Note: It seems like I haven’t asked for votes in a long while — I’ll ask for one now. Things really have improved — the overall rankings have reached fifth place, which I’m quite happy about!