In summer, daylight came early. By the time the city gates opened, the sky was already fully bright, and two groups of travelers exchanged their farewells outside the gates.

The three younger ones had chosen to depart on the same day as Hua Zhi.

Hua Zhi was dressed in crisp, practical travel attire, her hair pulled up into a tight bundle at the crown of her head — the picture of clean efficiency. She swept her gaze across the three of them, keeping her words of instruction brief. “Watch more, listen more, think more. Safety comes first.”

Yang Sui’an agreed readily. “Elder Sister, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of them.”

Hua Zhi couldn’t even remember when Sui’an had started calling her Elder Sister. He used to call her Older Cousin. But the closer form of address felt right — like she had gained yet another younger brother.

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, either. Traveling in a group, there’s always something to learn from one another. You must all discuss things and reach decisions together. And there’s one more thing I need you to promise me.” Hua Zhi looked at the three of them. “No matter how great a disagreement arises along the way, none of you is to split off in a fit of temper. As many people as set out must be the same number who return together. If I ever find out that any of you has failed to uphold this, none of you need think about going anywhere again.”

The three exchanged a glance, then all nodded.

“I trust that you are all men of your word. Elder Sister hopes you all return with full hands.” Hua Zhi offered a small smile and swallowed all her worries back down. She swung herself onto her horse. “Let’s part here then.”

“Stay safe, Elder Sister.”

“Take care, Sister Hua.”

Watching their elder sister’s figure until it disappeared entirely from sight, Hua Bailin said in a hushed voice: “This is the first time I’ve ever seen Elder Sister ride a horse. She rides even better than I do.”

“One trip north, one trip south — between the two she’s covered who knows how many li. Of course she’s improved.” Xiao Liu mounted his own horse. “Let’s go as well.”

Hua Bailin looked once more in the direction their elder sister had gone, his gaze resolute. He would not be so useless forever. Whatever progress Xiao Liu could make, so could he.

Hua Zhi’s group traveled light, and the weather held fair. Even spending a night outdoors posed no great hardship. And since Hua Zhi’s riding had indeed improved considerably — sometimes resting by letting Yanxi take the lead for a stretch — they made noticeably better time than on the previous journey.

Before a half-collapsed dwelling, a fire crackled and popped. Hua Zhi stirred the rolling broth in the pot, its savory fragrance rising warmly.

“It’s ready.” Hua Zhi gestured for everyone to bring their bowls. She had made thorough preparations before setting out, determined not to eat miserably on the road. She’d had everyone bring their own bowl, dried vegetables packed in advance, along with dried mushroom powder and salt — enough so that when they stopped to rest, they could boil up a pot of soup to eat alongside their dry rations without it scraping their throats raw.

She had also prepared portions of dried meat for Yanxi and his four subordinates. She and the guards, still in mourning, had no such allowance.

The others, once they had filled their bowls, moved away of their own accord to give some space. Hua Zhi and Gu Yanxi also rose and sat a little apart — on a summer night like this, no one could bear sitting right beside the fire.

Sipping the broth that A’Zhi had cooked herself, Gu Yanxi found it more fragrant than anything he had eaten in the palace. “Even before leaving the capital, we’d already heard about the severe drought in Bingzhou. Seeing it with our own eyes makes it plain just how severe it truly is.”

Since entering Bingzhou, the fields they had passed were almost all cracked and parched. Crops withered and had toppled over in the earth. The stronger plants were still thin and feeble — the kind that in ordinary times would have been pulled out to keep them from stealing nutrients from the better growth. Yet now they were being tended with the most careful devotion. They were the last hope left of that season’s harvest.

Hua Zhi’s mood grew heavier as well. Earlier that day, passing through a certain stretch, they had seen villagers sitting on the ridges between fields, weeping.

She had come from a world that, for all its ten thousand flaws, posed no threat to survival itself. She had never truly known what it meant to go hungry, and she could not claim to feel their despair in her bones. But she knew well enough that this year, more than a few families would have no choice but to sell their children in order to survive.

“A’Zhi, in a situation like this, is there any possible way to—”

Hua Zhi cut him off with a half-amused, half-helpless expression. “Yanxi, do you take me for a god?”

Gu Yanxi obstinately held the conviction that his A’Zhi would have an answer. “You even came up with a solution when it looked like Xiangyang might flood. Maybe you’ll think of something here too?”

“That’s different. With a potential breach at Xiangyang, you work to stop it from breaking. But if the sky won’t give rain, there’s nothing I can do to make it rain. What does the Imperial Astronomer’s office say?”

“When we set out, they said no rain within ten days. The way things look now, there likely won’t be any for a month.” Gu Yanxi, as a peace offering, poured half the broth from his own bowl into A’Zhi’s. “I didn’t mean to put that burden on you. It’s just that whenever something comes up, I find myself wanting to ask what you think — you always see things from unexpected angles. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Actually, let’s try reasoning backwards.”

“Backwards?”

Hua Zhi blinked. “Hao Yue only said Xiangyang would breach in the eighth month — she said nothing about the Bingzhou drought leading to consequences too catastrophic to contain. If Bingzhou truly starves to the point of corpses littering the roads, wouldn’t saying so have given her more to leverage? Why would she leave that out?”

“……” Gu Yanxi looked at Hua Zhi and smiled. That was precisely it — he had been right about this. Coming to ask A’Zhi always yielded something beyond what he had anticipated.

Hua Zhi felt a chill run down her arms from that smile, and reflexively wiped at the corner of her mouth — nothing there. “What are you smiling at?”

“Smiling at my own good fortune.”

Hua Zhi was sharp enough to grasp the unspoken meaning immediately. She cut him a sideways glance, then lowered her head and resumed drinking her broth.

Gu Yanxi’s smile deepened. “You trust Hao Yue’s prophecies.”

“The way I see it, what people call prophecy is simply knowing — for whatever reason — about something that is going to happen. Whatever that reason may be, Hao Yue clearly has some purpose she wants to achieve. Rather than saying I trust her prophecies, I’d sooner say I trust that no one rises early without reason, and Hao Yue is no exception.”

Gu Yanxi gave a small nod. “Before we set out, I received word from Chen Qing. It’s been confirmed — Hao Yue’s target is the leader of the Seven Lodges Bureau.”

A slight furrow appeared between Hua Zhi’s brows. Something rose in her chest — a feeling not unlike the instinct to guard what was hers from someone else’s reach. She pressed it down and began to work through the threads again.

The leadership of the Seven Lodges Bureau was passed down through generations. If Hao Yue’s target was what that position represented, it might mean she was trying to use it to accomplish something. But if her true target was the person beneath the mask of the Seven Lodges Bureau’s leader…

Hua Zhi felt a certain familiarity with this pattern.

“Has she mentioned Xiao Liu at all?”

“Not once.” Gu Yanxi shared his impression. “She seems to hold very high regard for me — higher than for any of the imperial princes. Chen Qing said he probed the topic of the various princes, and Hao Yue was contemptuous, saying outright that none of them were capable of achieving anything.”

Both of them were sharp minds, and arrived at the same thought at once: she dismissed the princes, yet she was actively approaching the leader of the Seven Lodges Bureau — which meant the future standing of the Seven Lodges Bureau’s leader would surpass that of the princes? And the only position that could surpass a prince…

There was only one such position in this world.

Hua Zhi felt a sudden constriction in her chest, and with it came a sharp, needle-like pain in her heart.

She did not actually believe that Hao Yue could plan for every contingency. For one thing, she herself was a variable — and through her, Xiao Liu had become another. That was the first consideration. The second was that Hao Yue was a variable in her own right. She had drawn out the well-concealed Yuan Shifang as a gift to present to Yanxi, and the ripple of events set off by Yuan Shifang after that… she wondered whether Hao Yue could contain all that had followed from her own move.