It was not until the hour of curfew drew close that Hua Zhi came out of the room. Gu Yanxi and Shao Yao were waiting at the door; when Shao Yao saw her, she moved to throw herself forward, and Gu Yanxi caught her by the arm before she could.

Hua Zhi turned back and dipped into a curtsy. She said her goodbyes and wished them well, then walked toward the gate. Everything that could be said had already been said. What could not be said, she would never say.

Hua Pingyang accompanied her to the inn as he had on all the other evenings. Hua Baili followed behind until the door was in sight, then stopped. He was twelve years old. He had read many books and understood many things — and so he knew that warmth was not only the warmth of firelight or sunlight. There was a kind of person whose glance alone was enough to leave a glow behind in the heart.

Hua Zhi, already through the gate, suddenly turned and came back. She stood at the base of the steps while Hua Baili stood at the top, his already slightly greater height made all the more evident by the difference in levels.

Hua Baili quickly came down two steps, so his elder sister could meet his eyes without looking up.

“Do you have a letter for your mother that you’d like me to carry back?”

Hua Baili’s eyes lit up at once. Of course he had written one — but he hadn’t dared ask. He knew his elder sister held no fondness for his mother. Daughters of the principal wife generally didn’t look kindly upon the children a concubine had borne.

“You could write it tonight and bring it to the inn first thing in the morning. And tell Baixiang as well — if there’s anything he’d like to send back, now is the time. Just nothing too heavy. There’s likely quite a lot already.”

Hua Baili nodded again and again, and did not produce the letter he had already written. This way, he would have a reason to see his elder sister off in the morning.

“Take care of yourself. Take care of Father.”

“I will, Elder Sister.”

Hua Zhi glanced at the people still lingering in the courtyard, then turned. The hem of her cloak lifted at the motion — her movements quick and purposeful, carrying with them a force that pressed forward and would not be turned back. She was, in every visible sense, no more than a young woman without the strength to restrain a chicken — yet in this moment, she seemed filled with an inexhaustible power that nothing could bring down.

Gu Yanxi’s gaze flickered, once, twice — and even knowing that Hua Pingyang was watching him, he did not look away. He had no intention of concealing what was in his heart. From the beginning to now, the obstacle standing between him and what he wanted had never had anything to do with anyone else. It had only ever been Hua Zhi herself.

That night, as Hua Zhi packed her things with Shao Yao draped over her, she said, “Grandfather’s illness needs to be fully rooted out. You’ll need to make several more trips. If he asks you anything, just say you don’t know — particularly regarding Grandmother’s condition. Don’t let a word of it reach Grandfather.”

Shao Yao gave a listless nod.

“The cold here is bitter. Don’t stay too long once you’ve gathered the herbs. And when something happens, don’t try to handle it alone — this isn’t the capital.”

Another nod.

“If there’s time, see to it that my father and my brothers have their constitutions properly looked after.” Hua Zhi tied the last knot, then drew Shao Yao to sit beside her on the bed. “I worry so much that they’ll suffer from the cold here. It truly is so cold.”

“Huahua, you’re really underestimating them. My teacher always says that people are the most adaptable creatures in the world — wherever they go, eventually they adapt.”

That was true. How many mighty species had been swallowed by the river of history, while frail, small humanity had multiplied from generation to generation all the way to now — and would continue, far into the future.

She reached up and touched Shao Yao’s uneven, scarred face. “You’re a physician of remarkable skill — isn’t there anything you can do about the scars? What does your teacher say?”

“Teacher said it’s impossible to remove them entirely, but they could be made less unsightly. The medicines needed are difficult to find, though. It’s been several years and we still haven’t gathered them all.”

“As long as they exist somewhere in this world, there will always be a day when they’re all found. We can wait.”

Shao Yao nodded vigorously. “That’s what Yanxi says too.”

The two of them talked, softly and unhurriedly, for half the night before finally falling asleep with their heads resting close together. Listening to Huahua’s breathing slow and deepen into sleep, Shao Yao opened her eyes. She eased out of bed, tiptoed away with her clothes bundled in her arms, dressed in a far corner of the room, and slipped out through the door like a small, furtive thief.

In the darkness, Hua Zhi’s eyes opened. She lay still and listened to the door of the room next door open and then close, and though she heard nothing more after that, instinct told her that two people had left.

She was always a light sleeper. That first night, she had not noticed only because she was genuinely exhausted beyond measure — but how could she have failed to notice the two nights that followed, each time waking in the small hours to find herself alone?

The medicinal herb might well be real. But whatever it was that made Shao Yao stay — whatever truly kept her from leaving — was most likely this matter that compelled her to go out in the middle of the night.

Across the way, Shao Yao and Gu Yanxi made their way through familiar paths into the general’s residence.

Wu Yong had been waiting. He had barely begun to speak when Shao Yao cut him off: “Undress, quickly.”

Wu Yong felt that he ought to be magnanimous about this. She was a young woman, and if she herself wasn’t bothered, he certainly shouldn’t be. It was just getting undressed — just do it.

Wu Yong clenched his jaw, stripped down with deliberate resolution, and lay flat on the bed, stiff as a plank of wood, his body rigid as a corpse. Shao Yao restrained herself from pointing out that this was precisely what he looked like, turned the lamp up higher, spread out her set of golden needles, and selected one.

Golden needles lacked the rigidity of silver ones. To guide them through the channels required channeling internal force, which was why working with golden needles was so draining.

Most of the needles were placed in a triangular configuration. Shao Yao worked with perfect steadiness, not so much as blinking — as though her hands were indeed moving over a corpse. Wu Yong was privately relieved that he was, under the circumstances, entirely incapacitated, because being watched like that by another person would certainly have provoked some reflexive reaction in any man — though had he actually dared to have one, he suspected the Shizi would have done more than merely darken his expression.

“I leave tomorrow.” Gu Yanxi turned his back on the proceedings and sat at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea.

“Is the eldest young miss of the Hua Family heading home?” There was a teasing note in Wu Yong’s voice. Over the past few days, the most talked-about subject in all of Yinshan Pass had been the arrival of the Hua Family’s eldest daughter from the capital. He had first simply admired her, from a distance — but when he learned that Shizi Gu Yanxi, who had been raised at the Emperor’s side as a son in all but name, had followed her all the way here under the guise of her household’s martial arts instructor, admiration was no longer the word. That was reverence.

The number of people in this world who dared command Shizi Gu was precisely two.

The first was the reigning Emperor.

This woman was the second.

“Show the Hua Family a little extra consideration while I’m gone.”

Wu Yong hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming about it, and instinctively glanced over — only to be pushed flat by Shao Yao’s hand. “Stay still.”

“My apologies, my apologies.” Wu Yong lay back obediently. He was, truth be told, a little wary of Shao Yao. The woman was simply too fearless. There were moments when she seemed to have entirely forgotten that she was a woman herself.

“Shizi — if the Emperor were to learn that you’ve set your heart on a woman from the very family he just had punished, have you given any thought to what the consequences might be?”

“I won’t let him know for now.”

There was an ease between them born of having shared hardship side by side, and with the Emperor so far away, Wu Yong spoke without quite so many restraints. “You’re right under his eyes. Do you really think you can keep it from him?”

Gu Yanxi’s gaze rested on the faint, shifting light of the candle flame. His eyes softened as his thoughts turned to Hua Zhi. “It doesn’t matter. If the time comes when it can’t be hidden, I’ll simply tell him. He may object at first — but in the end, he’ll agree.”

Compared to taking the daughter of a powerful minister as his wife, taking the daughter of a convicted official was far less threatening to a man who sat on that throne in solitary, distrustful isolation. Whatever resistance there might be would, in the end, amount to nothing more than surface displeasure.