The Lan River ran swift and unceasing. The first red sun of morning rose, and the Jingdai Pavilion — built to follow the grand course of the Lan River — shimmered and gleamed in the early light, every inch of its jade-green glazed tiles catching the dawn.

The pavilion was open on all four sides. Bands of golden light overlapped within its walls; the sound of a qin rose and fell with the rhythm of the waves. Before a carved incense table stood an ancient bronze qilin censer in shades of green and blue, sandalwood smoldering over indirect heat inside, its mountain-and-water fragrance drifting in and out of perception.

In the place where the light converged, a person sat playing the qin — wide sleeves, long robe, his entire bearing like clear frost.

“…All the markets and the areas around the capital have been searched. The bodies of slain imperial clansmen and unidentified dead have all been investigated. This subordinate has failed in his duty — no trace of the Princess of Yue has been found.”

The music stopped.

Beyond the windows the river roared. Inside the pavilion there was absolute silence.

Dark Guard Four knelt on one knee, cold sweat seeping through his back in layers — even his left ear, missing a slice of its lobe, seemed to grow damp with it.

“There is one more matter. This subordinate discovered the body of Dark Guard Six in the ravine where the unclaimed dead are buried.”

“How did she die?”

“She took her own life — cut her own throat.”

“She did not disgrace her mission. I will take care of her family. As for you…” Fu Xuanmiao paused, letting his gaze settle on Dark Guard Four.

A maidservant with a composed and respectful bearing appeared at the doorway.

“Young Master, the Master and Mistress have arrived.”

“I understand.” Fu Xuanmiao rose unhurriedly to his full height, his slender form bathed in the morning sun. He circled the qin table and personally helped Dark Guard Four to his feet. “You did your best as well. Go receive your reward.”

A gust of river wind swept through. Dark Guard Four shuddered, suddenly aware that his entire body was drenched in cold sweat.

Fu Xuanmiao walked out of the main hall on the ground floor of the Jingdai Pavilion, lifted the wide hem of his robe, and descended the layered steps at a quick pace.

An unpretentious, elegant black lacquered carriage stood at the foot of the pavilion. A middle-aged man wearing a stone-blue robe embroidered with golden patterns stepped down from the carriage using the mounting block. Behind him, a pale-faced woman bent her way out of the carriage, and with a maidservant’s assistance, felt her way toward the small step below.

The maidservant kept cautioning her, but the woman still missed the step. The middle-aged man at the front of the carriage had no awareness of what was happening behind him. It was the groom holding the horse who reacted swiftly — he dashed forward in one bound and steadied the stumbling woman.

“Mistress, watch your step,” the groom said.

Fang Shi’s face went even paler than before. Under the golden-red light of the morning sun, her face looked as though it had just emerged from an ice cellar.

“…Don’t touch me.” Fang Shi pulled her hand away sharply.

The groom froze, then knelt.

“Mistress, forgive this servant.”

Fang Shi said nothing. It was the middle-aged man who waved a hand. “Rise. The Mistress has always been this way. Pay it no mind.”

“…This servant is grateful, Master.” The groom breathed in relief and stepped aside to stand at attendance.

“Chanyu, come here.” Fu Ruzhi extended a hand toward Fu Xuanmiao, who stood waiting at the foot of the steps.

Fu Xuanmiao walked quickly to his father’s side and clasped his outstretched hand.

“My son has grown thinner. You must have endured much hardship on the road.” Fu Ruzhi patted the back of his hand and said, “Where is His Majesty now?”

“This son has been unfilial — I’ve worried Father needlessly.” Fu Xuanmiao lowered his head. “His Majesty has continued south with the main army. He sent this son to West City County to receive Father.”

Fu Ruzhi let out a long sigh. “Let’s go inside and talk.”

Fu Xuanmiao stepped aside with a bow, letting Fu Ruzhi and his retinue proceed ahead. He then walked over to Fang Shi, who was being helped along by a maidservant at the rear, and gestured for the maidservant to step back.

The maidservant looked at Fu Xuanmiao, then at Fang Shi, torn between two loyalties. Hesitantly, she released Fang Shi’s hand. Fu Xuanmiao stepped forward and took her arm.

“Mother, let me help you.”

Fang Shi’s brow furrowed. She pulled her arm free and walked straight ahead on her own.

The stone steps rose directly before her. Unable to see, she was about to walk straight into them. The maidservant glanced nervously at Fu Xuanmiao.

“…Go,” Fu Xuanmiao said.

The maidservant hurried forward and took Fang Shi’s arm. Fang Shi frowned slightly, but once she recognized who it was, said nothing, and allowed herself to be guided up the steps.

The party made their way into the Jingdai Pavilion, and each retired to freshen up.

After the morning meal, the women of the household went to rest on the top floor of the pavilion. Fu Ruzhi and Fu Xuanmiao returned to the ground floor. Over a pot of fresh tea, reclining across from each other on a low daybed, Fu Xuanmiao gave a brief account of what had occurred in recent days.

“…Not finding her may also be good news.” Fu Ruzhi’s expression was grave. “At the very least, it means the Princess of Yue has not fallen into rebel hands.”

“Father, the capital has now been searched thoroughly. The Princess may no longer be there. I wish to ask Father’s permission to mobilize all available resources and search the surrounding region of the capital.”

Fu Ruzhi was silent for a long while before he spoke.

“In the matter of searching for the Princess of Yue, you need not bring it to me for approval again. Whatever the cost, we must find her alive — or find her body.”

“…This son is grateful to Father.”

Fu Xuanmiao bowed from where he sat and looked up — to find that Fu Ruzhi’s temples had grown considerably greyer, and his complexion far more haggard than usual.

“Father should take better care of himself. The work of restoring the dynasty is not accomplished in a single day. If Father’s health breaks down, that would be the true end of the road for the Yan dynasty.”

Fu Ruzhi made no reply. His gaze drifted to the rushing Lan River beyond the windows. The faint crease between his brows betrayed a trace of weary resignation.

Just as Fu Xuanmiao was about to speak again, a commotion arose outside the Jingdai Pavilion.

“What’s happening out there?” Fu Ruzhi frowned.

The maidservant on duty inside the hall was about to go outside to investigate, when a young woman walked in unhurried — her bearing radiant, her features fine and alluring yet her manner measured and composed, like a lotus blossom beaded with morning dew.

She performed a curtsy and said politely, “To report to the Chancellor: Guo Liang has fallen into the river.”

“Who is Guo Liang?”

“He is the groom who drove the carriage,” Yangliu said. “The Mistress nearly lost her footing getting out of the carriage earlier — he was the one who helped her.”

“That was him—” Fu Ruzhi recalled it now. “How did he come to fall into the river?”

“He had never seen such sights before. He was leaning over the railing to take in the view and somehow toppled over. Everyone is searching for him now, but the prospects are not good.”

“…He survived the pursuit of the rebel forces, only to fall prey to heaven’s whims. Truly, the world is unpredictable.” Fu Ruzhi said with a sigh. “Send some money to his family.”

“Yes, sir.” Yangliu curtsied gracefully.

Fu Xuanmiao spoke. “I have already prepared the bedchambers and study. Father must be exhausted from the journey — perhaps it would be good to go upstairs and rest a while.”

“Very well.” Fu Ruzhi rose. “Report to me immediately if anything important arises.”

“Of course.”

Fu Xuanmiao stood and gave a bow.

After Fu Ruzhi had gone, Fu Xuanmiao said to Yangliu, “Send for Yufeng.”

“Yes, sir.”

Before long, a young man of powerful build and agile step arrived before Fu Xuanmiao.

“How many of the dark guards remaining in the capital region are left?”

“Around twenty.”

“I’m placing those twenty under your command. You will lead them in searching the region surrounding the capital. We must obtain news of the Princess of Yue.”

“This subordinate accepts the order!”

Fu Xuanmiao waved his hand. Yangliu stepped forward. “Please,” she said softly.

Yufeng stepped out of the pavilion, then turned to Yangliu. “No need to see me off, sworn sister. The sun is so fierce out here — go inside quickly.”

“When does sworn brother plan to set out?”

“I haven’t much to pack — just a few changes of clothes and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Before sworn brother departs, might you come have a cup of tea at your little sister’s quarters?”

Yufeng agreed without hesitation.

Yangliu smiled. “I’ll be waiting for sworn brother’s visit.”

After Yufeng left, Yangliu turned and bowed toward the figure by the window.

“Young Master, Yufeng has gone. He should be able to set out by evening.”

“Noted.”

Yangliu stood in place a moment longer, then walked to the low daybed and lifted the teapot. “This tea has gone cold. Shall I fetch a fresh…”

“No need.” Fu Xuanmiao said. “You may go.”

A shadow crossed Yangliu’s eyes. “…Yes, sir.”

Once the room was empty and he was alone, Fu Xuanmiao pushed open both long windows and stood in silence, gazing out over the Lan River.

Where in the world was the person he was searching for?

The river wind whispered. The waves rolled on and on.

A solitary bird swept across the lonely, open sky and flew toward the sparse cluster of dwellings on the far bank — no bigger than green beans from this distance.

A sparrow landed on the osmanthus tree outside the gate, shook its wings, and joined the chorus of the other birds already perched in its branches.

A cloth boot flew out from the wide-open main hall, scattering the birds in a flurry of wings.

After a moment, a bleary-eyed Li Wu hopped out of the house on one foot, fumbled his way to the tree, and with much grumbling and cursing, forced his foot into the boot lying beneath it.

“One of these days I’m going to stew the lot of you in a pot…”

He shuffled toward the back courtyard, still half in a dream, his hair a tangled mess he couldn’t even be bothered to smooth down.

Arriving at the water vat, Li Wu shut his eyes, reached inside, and grabbed nothing. His hand stilled, then reached deeper.

Still nothing.

“Where’s my ladle?”

The ladle had clearly been floating on the surface just yesterday. Now there was no ladle — and no water either?

Li Wu had half his body hanging inside the earthen vat before he finally felt the ladle.

Sleep vanished in an instant. He stared, mouth agape, at the utterly empty vat. He could not begin to comprehend how it had been full just last night.

Li Wu scraped and scraped, and managed to coax out barely half a ladle’s worth of water from the very bottom. Half a ladle of water — what was he supposed to do with that? Rinse out a gap between his teeth?

“Shen — Zhu — Xi!”

Li Wu charged into the main hall and tore aside the bamboo curtain to the bedroom — only to be greeted by a bedroom as empty as the water vat.

This maddening woman had eaten his buns, slept in his bed, and at the first light of day had once again slipped away without a word!

Li Wu was furious enough to see double. What was left of his reason made him stop himself from charging out after her. He returned to the back courtyard, used the remaining half-ladle of water to rinse his eyes and wash out his mouth, then — using what little moisture clung to the inside walls of the vat — smoothed back his hair and tied it at his nape.

Only after all of this did he stride out through the gate, his face dark as still water.

Yutou Town was a tiny place — a sneeze could travel from one end to the other. Li Wu grabbed a few people and asked around, and quickly pieced together Shen Zhuxi’s trail.

Everyone who had seen her said the same thing: she had been asking them how to get to the pawnshop.

Li Wu could find the pawnshop with his eyes closed. He’d done business with Du Yanlong for years and knew the man’s character inside out. Shen Zhuxi — a naive, plump little rabbit going to the pawnshop — was nothing but prey about to be ground into spiced roast: fit only for being chewed up and swallowed.

And so it was. Before Li Wu had even crossed the pawnshop threshold, he heard Shen Zhuxi’s pleading voice from within:

“…Please take another look — these earrings cannot possibly be worth so little!”

Li Wu stood outside the door, his expression flat. If this maddening woman was trying to pawn her earrings in order to run away for good, then he would wait until she’d been turned into spiced roast, and then chew her up along with Du Yanlong.

“Miss, don’t you know how pawnshops work? Whatever you bring in, we have to mark it down. This isn’t charity. If we bought things for the same price you paid, the shop would have gone under long ago.”

Du Yanlong stood behind the counter, his two thin mustaches twitching with each smirk on his thin lips.

“But this really is too low… Could you go up even a little?”

Shen Zhuxi stood at the counter with her back to him, pleading without pause. Du Yanlong stroked his mustache and appeared to deliberate — then suddenly caught sight of Li Wu standing outside the door. He sent Li Wu a look they both recognized:

“Fat rabbit — don’t interfere.”

Du Yanlong coughed once and said with theatrical gravity, “This way then — tell me how much you’re hoping for.”

Shen Zhuxi hesitated at length before saying slowly, “Two hundred taels.”

“Why two hundred taels?”

“I… I’d like to start a letter-writing service here in town. I’ve already found a set of the four scholarly treasures at the stationery shop — they cost one hundred and thirty taels…”

“Then I’ll give you one hundred and thirty taels,” Du Yanlong said. “Not a—”

Li Wu strode through the shop door and grabbed Du Yanlong by the collar from across the counter.

“You’re going to chew up a rabbit that belongs to me?” Li Wu said, his face dark.

Both Du Yanlong and Shen Zhuxi were startled. Shen Zhuxi stared at the two of them. “You know each other?”

“Know each other? I know exactly how many moles he has on his backside.” Li Wu snatched the earrings out of Du Yanlong’s hand. “We’re not selling. Let’s go.”

“Hey — hey! Li Wu, come back!” Du Yanlong called frantically from behind them. “I’ll add more — three hundred taels! Three hundred and fifty! Four hundred! Five hundred—!”

Li Wu didn’t look back, and Shen Zhuxi had no choice but to half-walk, half-jog to keep up with him.

“Where are we going?”

“Just follow,” Li Wu said.

Before long, Shen Zhuxi found herself at the Willow-by-the-River Hall — a place she had been to before. It was the only stationery shop in town, selling brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. Named for its riverside location and the willow tree at its door, the Willow-by-the-River Hall it was.

When Shen Zhuxi rushed through the door after Li Wu, she saw him already rapping his knuckles on the counter in front of the shopkeeper, with a cold smile. “Bring out that treasure of yours worth a hundred and thirty taels. Let me see what all the fuss is about.”

The shopkeeper’s face went white as paper. He smiled in appeasement. “A misunderstanding, a misunderstanding… I truly didn’t know that young lady was connected to you, Li. For you, the price will naturally be quite different.”

“Which set did she pick out?” Li Wu asked.

The shopkeeper quickly retrieved a set of the four scholarly treasures from the shelf behind him. Li Wu asked, “Is this the one you chose?”

Shen Zhuxi looked it over and nodded.

“I’ll take it. Name your price,” Li Wu said.

The shopkeeper wiped the cold sweat from his brow with his sleeve and said obsequiously, “Since Li has taken a liking to it, please take it for eighteen taels.”

“Put it on my account. The usual.”

The shopkeeper agreed readily, looking visibly relieved.

Shen Zhuxi watched the whole exchange with her jaw dropping — a set of scholarly treasures worth one hundred and thirty taels had been talked down to eighteen with a few words. Even local ruffians had their uses, it seemed.

This set of the four scholarly treasures — if it had been before, Shen Zhuxi would never have given it a second glance. But it was the finest set available in the only stationery shop in town. She also had little understanding of prices, and had simply assumed that everything in the common world was this baffling — inferior writing supplies priced outrageously high, while fine jewelry was worth practically nothing.

If not for Li Wu, she would have been thoroughly swindled today.

The two of them walked out of the stationery shop. A fresh river breeze swept past. The willow branches along the riverbank swayed in the wind. A white-bearded old man who had just arrived was sitting on a small stool, arranging his fishing tackle, a long fishing rod already poised and ready.

Shen Zhuxi was in decent spirits, thinking over where she might set up her letter-writing stall, when Li Wu spoke:

“These.” He opened his palm, revealing the earrings for a moment before closing his fist around them. “I’ll hold on to them.”

“I’ll give you five hundred taels for them, but not all at once. Come to me when you need money.”

“Why?”

Li Wu said irritably, “Stop asking so many questions.”

Shen Zhuxi quietly suspected it was because this local ruffian couldn’t produce that much silver in one go.

Li Wu was quietly thinking that if this maddening woman got the money and then slipped away for good, he’d be shooting himself in the foot.

Each keeping their own counsel, Shen Zhuxi suddenly spotted a magnificent pavilion rising high across the river — its jade-green exterior towering above the clouds.

“What’s that place over there?”

Li Wu glanced in the direction she pointed, unconcerned. “The Jingdai Pavilion. The most celebrated building in our Jinzhou.”

Even without Li Wu saying so, Shen Zhuxi could see from a distance that the pavilion was extraordinary. Unfortunately the river lay between them and she couldn’t see it more closely. In one of its windows, a tall and slender silhouette seemed to be standing — whoever lived in a place like that must surely be no ordinary person.

Envy stirred in her heart. “Who lives in the pavilion?”

“It used to be Prince Jian. Now I’m not sure which poor unfortunate it is.”

“Why ‘poor unfortunate’?”

“Because everyone who moves in comes to a bad end,” Li Wu said. “Prince Jian lived there fewer than two years before he died of illness. The ones before him all met bad ends too.”

Shen Zhuxi looked again at the pavilion suspended between sky and water. Whatever admiration she had felt was now replaced by revulsion.

Li Wu said, “You really are naive. You believe everything you hear.”

Shen Zhuxi caught on and glared at him. “You tricked me again!”

“Which is worse — believing only me, or believing everyone?”

“Mind your own business!”

“You’re living under my roof. Who else’s business is it?”

“…I refuse to stoop to your level!”

“You’re walking the wrong way — do you know how to get home?”

“I do!”

“Then why are you going left?”

“I — I was just about to go right!”

“But left is the way home.”

“You—!”

Above them, ten thousand miles of clear sky. Below them, two shadows side by side. Shen Zhuxi, for a while, was pulled free from her grief — her whole world narrowed to her brushes and ink and the insufferable local ruffian beside her.

Bickering and bantering, the two of them made their way home.