Beyond the window, the sound of the river flowed on without cease. In the corridor below, there was not a sound.

Bright sunlight like scattered gold lay across the entire corridor of the third floor of Jindai Pavilion, and at the far end, before an ornately carved wooden door, a man stood tall and upright. Frost-white wide sleeves framed a deep blue inner robe; the river wind moved gently, and beneath the swaying sleeves, the man’s clean and slender fingers appeared and disappeared from view.

Even the maidservants standing in attendance along the corridor could not help shifting their weight from time to time, yet the silent man before the door seemed tireless, still as ever, not moving in the least.

The shaft of golden light slowly moved across his form, and still could not warm that cool and remote stillness.

Two young maidservants could not stop glancing at him, quietly feeling the injustice on his behalf — they wished they could be the person behind that door, and so invite him to sit and drink a cup of hot tea, exchange a few idle words, and repay a son’s sincere and devoted heart.

At last the tightly closed door opened, and Ning Yu, the personal handmaid of Fang Shi, stepped out. The door remained open, but a huanghuali wood throne screen painted with an autumn mountain landscape blocked the view of the inner room.

Ning Yu gave Fu Xuanmiao a bow, lowered her eyes respectfully, and said: “Young Master, please return — Madam is feeling unwell and is still resting.”

Fu Xuanmiao lowered his gaze and drew something from his sleeve, extending it: “I ask that Ning Yu pass this to my mother on my behalf.”

Ning Yu looked in surprise at the bead bracelet in Fu Xuanmiao’s hand.

It was a bracelet of fragrant wood beads, full and round, carrying their own natural scent. Hanging from the bracelet were a Buddha-head bead, a back bead, and pendant drops — the exact style most favored by women of mature years.

“This is a ganam wood eighteen-bead bracelet I came across by chance. It is said to calm the mind and promote sleep. Mother sleeps lightly and tends to dream — wearing this may perhaps be of some help.” Fu Xuanmiao said.

“Young Master is very thoughtful.” Ning Yu accepted the bracelet respectfully with both hands.

“…I will not disturb Mother’s rest further. I trouble you to look after her well.”

“Young Master need not worry — this is what I am here for.”

Ning Yu bowed her head in farewell. Only after the silk boots before her turned and moved away did she carry the bracelet back into the chamber.

She went around the screen and entered the inner room, where she bowed to Fang Shi on the bed.

“Madam, Young Master has left. He left behind a ganam wood eighteen-bead bracelet.”

Fang Shi seemed not to hear, eyes closed, lips moving in silent recitation of a sutra, her pallid and slender fingers gently working the prayer beads in her hand.

Ning Yu thought of the young master who had stood in the corridor for two full hours and felt a softness in her heart. She smiled and said:

“Every bead of this bracelet has characters carved on it — the character for fortune on one side and longevity on the other. I don’t know much, and can only say that the characters are written beautifully, though I could not say who wrote them.”

Fang Shi opened her dull eyes and said flatly: “Bring it here.”

Ning Yu stepped forward and placed the bracelet in Fang Shi’s hand. Fang Shi traced the engraved grooves in the beads slowly, and after a long moment said: “This is Yuan Jin of Jinzhou’s work — his best style, the Wei Stele script.”

“As always, Madam’s knowledge is far beyond mine — I can only see that it is beautiful, but not where the beauty lies.” Ning Yu smiled. “This bracelet carries a fine meaning, and also promotes restful sleep. Why not wear it, Madam, and see if it helps?”

“Young Master went to all that trouble to find such an exquisite bracelet!” A young maidservant in the chamber suddenly spoke up.

Ning Yu was startled and at once shot the well-meaning but careless girl a look. But Fang Shi’s expression had already changed. She turned cold, tossed the bracelet onto the table, closed her eyes again, and resumed turning her prayer beads.

“Take it away.” Her voice was cold.

Ning Yu knew she could not defy Fang Shi at this moment, and could only pick up the bracelet from the table. She found a wooden box for it, then turned and handed it to the young maidservant who had just spoken out of turn.

“…Put it in the storeroom.”

The young maidservant accepted it with an expression full of regret.

She carried the wooden box out of the chamber with downcast steps, and the moment she was gone, the two maidservants standing in the corridor put their heads together.

“…What a pity — sent to the storeroom again.”

“When has it ever been any different? Why does Madam treat her own son this way?”

“I heard it was something Young Master did wrong at thirteen that enraged Madam terribly. After that, mother and son haven’t shared a meal at the same table once.”

“What could be so serious?”

“I don’t know — even the Master doesn’t know what the quarrel between them is about.”

“Whatever Young Master did wrong, he is still Madam’s own flesh and blood. How can Madam be so heartless…”

The whispered voices behind her grew harder to make out, and the young maidservant could only accept it and continue on her way.

She too could not fathom it. Young Master was so fine a person — how could Madam bear to be so cold?

After the young maidservant hurried out of the corridor, a figure emerged from the shadow behind one of the columns. Yang Liu, dressed in an elegant and proper pale-white short jacket and skirt, moved with a light and noiseless step, drawing no one’s attention as she descended the wide staircase of Jindai Pavilion.

She held both hands tucked into her sleeves and arrived before a wide-open door on the second floor, where she lowered her eyes and curtseyed respectfully.

“Young Master — Madam has sent the bracelet away after all.”

She did not dare lift her head, maintaining her curtsey, and heard only a long silence from within.

“Understood — you may rise.”

Yang Liu rose, and let her gaze travel into the room. The spacious chamber had no partitions — one bed, one couch, one low couch table. That was all the room contained.

Fu Xuanmiao sat sideways on the purple sandalwood long couch by the window, lifting a yixing clay teapot to pour water into his cup. Yang Liu hurried forward and took the teapot from his hand.

“Such a trifling matter — I would not presume to trouble Young Master.”

She poured into the tea cup with careful attention. Whether in the tilt of her gaze as she looked down, or in the light dexterity of her hands, everything was without fault — like a cultured young woman of noble birth, steeped in learning and refinement.

Outside the window, the westward-slanting sunlight fell upon her, and the beauty it illuminated was radiant and arresting — yet there was no one there to see it.

Fu Xuanmiao lowered his gaze, fixing it on a letter in his hand, written in a bold and vigorous hand.

The search results from the capital area had come back. No trace of the Princess of Yue had been found. Either she was not in the capital region, or she was… no longer among the living.

But there was one more possibility — they had overlooked one place.

The Jinzhou where he had settled — it was also part of the capital region.

Yang Liu poured the tea, let her eyes glance briefly over the letter in Fu Xuanmiao’s hand, then stepped back to her proper distance and said quietly: “Did Young Master inform Madam that the ganam wood bracelet was something Young Master sought out himself, going in person to Yuan Jin’s door?”

“If she wishes to know, she will know in time.” Fu Xuanmiao’s expression was placid, unreadable. The voice that emerged was like the thin mist drifting over the Lan River — faint and without weight. “…But she has no wish to know.”

“Young Master’s efforts are seen by everyone. Madam’s heart will unknot itself one day.” Yang Liu offered gently.

“One day… but which day would that be?” Fu Xuanmiao said quietly.

Yang Liu was about to reply when he spoke again: “Have the third shadow guard come in.”

He had only been speaking to himself. He had not been expecting her answer.

Yang Liu buried her disappointment deep beneath her composure, curtseyed, and said: “…Yes.”

Before long, the third of the Fu family’s shadow guards stood before Fu Xuanmiao. They had no names — or rather, their names were their code designations. People could die, but code names endured forever. If one Shadow Three fell, another Shadow Three would take his place.

Shadow Three stopped three paces from the couch, dropped to one knee, and clasped his fists toward the man on the couch. “Young Master.”

Fu Xuanmiao set down the coded letter sent from the capital by Yu Feng and said: “I will give you a portrait of the Princess of Yue. Take ten men and investigate Jinzhou and the surrounding counties and villages.”

Yang Liu stood to the side with her head lowered, as though her ears were closed.

“Yes!” Shadow Three accepted the order without hesitation.

“Bring paper and brush.”

Before Fu Xuanmiao’s words had fully left his mouth, Yang Liu had already moved toward the door. Shortly, maidservants brought a painting table and fine brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone in a steady stream. Yang Liu moved to Fu Xuanmiao’s left and naturally took up the task of grinding his ink.

The jet-black ink was ground ready quickly. Fu Xuanmiao stood before the wide painting table, took up a large frost-bristle brush with an intricately patterned bamboo handle, dipped it lightly in ink, paused a moment, and then set brush to the white paper.

His slender pale hand moved the delicate brush swiftly and surely across the paper, fluid and unhesitating, as though he had traced this image in his mind a hundred times, a thousand times.

In a few spare strokes, a beauty began to take form.

A young woman in an ornate palace robe leaned against the railing of a water pavilion, cradling a plump, long-haired cat in her arms. Her posture was composed and dignified, her lips curved in a slight smile, and in her almond eyes — clear as autumn water — there shone the unguarded innocence of a child.

The figure in the painting was full of life. Could this come from anything but careful, repeated imagining?

Fu Xuanmiao completed the painting in one breath and set down his brush upon the copper mountain brush rest.

Yang Liu’s hands twisted together inside her sleeves, though her expression remained as serene as ever. She said softly: “Young Master’s painting has grown even more refined.”

Fu Xuanmiao looked without moving at the painting, the ink still wet. His gaze was still and deep. After a long moment, he said:

“The cat — it may be dead by now.”

Yang Liu’s gaze fell on the Persian cat in the painting. It was she who had first mentioned this cat to Fu Xuanmiao. She had told him that a long-haired cat from Persia had recently become fashionable among the capital’s noble ladies, who vied to keep them. She had seen a black-and-white Persian cat at the residence of the Junior Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, and it was quite charming.

Afterward, a pure white Persian cat had appeared in the household. Her delight had lasted less than a day before the cat was sent into the palace.

Yang Liu stripped herself of that feeling and said in an even voice: “People have their fates — so do cats.”

The ink was nearly dry. Fu Xuanmiao drew his gaze from the painting, and with an air of weariness, settled back on the long couch.

“…Take it.”

“Yes!”

Shadow Three carefully lifted the portrait from the painting table, clasped his fists toward Fu Xuanmiao, and retreated silently from the chamber.

“Young Master has sent more men — does this mean your sworn brother has word of the Princess of Yue?” Yang Liu spoke.

“Something of the sort.”

Fu Xuanmiao picked up his teacup, and beneath the cover of his wide sleeve, took a measured sip.

“…How many men has Young Master added? Searching the capital region would take more than a few.”

“Yang Liu.” Fu Xuanmiao said quietly.

Yang Liu’s frame stiffened, and she immediately bowed her head.

“This one is here.”

“What is not your concern…” he said lightly, “…do not even ask.”

“…Understood.”

“Young Master—” A person dressed as a guard strode into the chamber, made a salute, and reported: “The military stores from Dongqing County, Yongtian County, and Yutou County have all arrived. Those below are currently taking inventory and putting everything in storage.”

“Understood.”

The guard bowed and withdrew.

Fu Xuanmiao set down his teacup and cast his gaze downward through the two palace-style casement windows.

The Lan River surged on, and the sky above was crystal clear. Below the imposing Jindai Pavilion, countless people in all manner of clothing labored to heave heavy wooden crates up onto the wide platform. Their faces were blank, their figures busy and insignificant. From Fu Xuanmiao’s height, they were like the ants he would thoughtlessly tread upon each day — their lives, and their joys and sorrows, were equally small, equally inconsequential.

The platform of the second-floor staircase of Jindai Pavilion was already stacked with crates of all sizes, and under the watch of expressionless silk-clad guards with swords at their waists, every person in sight moved with hurried steps, shuttling back and forth between the second-floor platform and the gathering of vehicles below.

Among all these people rushing about with no moment to spare, one young man caught Fu Xuanmiao’s eye.

He was broad-shouldered, straight-backed, and lean, dressed in the most ordinary coarse cloth — and yet he was the most conspicuous person in the crowd.

Beside the man stood two young men of contrasting appearances, both not particularly old — one had an unsightly face with half a cheek missing, the other stood nine feet tall with a fierce countenance.

The three of them had gathered in a quiet corner of the platform and seemed to be speaking with the pavilion’s manager. The young man with the unsightly face said something that sent the manager into a fit of laughter.

Perhaps sensing something, the first man Fu Xuanmiao had noticed suddenly raised his head. A pair of clear and sharp eyes met his gaze.

“…Go find out what they said.” Fu Xuanmiao said, unhurried.

Yang Liu cast a glance downward toward the window and immediately understood who he meant.

“Yes.”

Half an hour later, the escort groups from each county had gradually dispersed from Jindai Pavilion. Yang Liu, who had gone out to gather information, also returned.

She stood before the long couch where Fu Xuanmiao reclined, and spoke with measured respect:

“These three men are from Yutou County — all orphans by birth, and in ordinary times, they lead idle lives making money through debt collection and moneylending. The one Young Master took notice of is called Li Wu, the eldest of the three brothers. In addition to escorting the military stores from Yutou, he also came to inquire after a man called ‘Shen Huan.'”

“Shen Huan?” Fu Xuanmiao lightly traced the rim of his teacup.

“Yes. This man recently took a wife. His wife, separated from her elder brother in the upheaval in the capital, is the reason Li Wu has been searching. Her brother is said to have worked for the Yuan Long Emperor, which is why Li Wu thought to try his luck at Jindai Pavilion.” Yang Liu said.

Fu Xuanmiao said: “There was no one called Shen Huan among those close to His Majesty.”

Yang Liu said, with a note of disdain: “Given his background, how could his wife’s brother possibly be among those in close service to His Majesty? It must be a misunderstanding. Even if he served the Emperor, it would not have been in direct service.”

Fu Xuanmiao lowered his gaze and regarded the reflection of the tea in his cup.

“…Does Young Master wish to keep an eye on this person?” Yang Liu said, probing.

Fu Xuanmiao said calmly: “A man of no consequence — there is no need.”

“Understood.”