The violent winter wind, laced with icy, bone-chilling rain, beat relentlessly against the rickety wooden door of the abandoned temple.

Shen Zhuxi looked nervously at the door, howling and rattling under the assault, and unconsciously shifted a little closer to Li Wu.

“Are you cold?” Li Wu closed his hand around hers.

The gesture was so natural that Shen Zhuxi didn’t even notice anything unusual about it.

“I’m not cold,” she said.

The two of them sat on a cloth spread laid over a bed of straw. Li Wu lay sideways with idle ease, having tied and untied a foxtail grass he’d casually plucked when stepping off the carriage at least a dozen times. This being her first night sleeping in an abandoned temple, Shen Zhuxi could not match his nonchalance. She sat in the corner of the spread with her hands and feet primly together, careful not to brush against the stone slabs covered in dust and ash.

She cast uneasy glances around, dreading the sudden appearance of some wandering ghost, bedbugs, or rats.

A bonfire burned in front of the mat where the two sat, sparks popping and leaping from the crackling wood before dying on the cold stone floor. Four ears of corn stuck on stakes beside the fire had already toasted to a golden color, and the faint aroma of food brought a touch of warmth to the chilly, damp temple.

The rickety wooden door creaked open.

Two figures carrying umbrellas walked in from the dark, rain-soaked night, one after the other.

Large raindrops slid down the smooth surface of the umbrellas and fell in soft streams onto the dust-covered stone floor, tracing winding trails through the grime.

“I’ve brought the quilts — Sister-in-law, you’ll have to make do here tonight. Once we’re into the city in a couple of days, we’ll find a proper inn.” Li Que set down the tightly rolled cotton quilt.

Li Wu took it and shook it open, draping it over her shoulders.

Li Kun found a few handfuls of straw, spread them on the ground, and sat down right where he stood — then eagerly grabbed the nearest ear of corn without further ado. Li Que spread a neat square of straw for himself, sat down around the bonfire, and held his hands out to warm them at the flames. He said offhandedly: “Fan Wei couldn’t possibly guess that we’ve already made it safely to Dengzhou.”

Li Wu plucked off the fuzzy tip of the foxtail grass and tossed it to the ground.

“That fool is probably throwing everything he has into blocking the roads to Junzhou and Fangzhou right now.”

“Fang Tingzhi’s no fool, though — he may have seen through our game.”

“What good does that do him, even if he has? He’s not the one in charge.” Li Wu gave a cold laugh.

“…What a waste.” Li Que shook his head. “If Fang Tingzhi had pledged himself to someone other than that useless prefect, he might have amounted to something.”

“You — you’re not eating?” Li Kun, mouth stuffed full of corn kernels, asked Li Que in a muffled mumble.

“You eat mine, Second Brother — I’m not hungry.”

Li Que stood and moved a large, round stone — the size of a watermelon — to brace against the broken door. Li Kun claimed his ear of corn and bit into it with great relish.

“Here, take mine,” Li Wu said.

Li Que returned to his spot and shook his head. “I ate while driving — the steamed buns were filling. You keep yours, Elder Brother.”

Shen Zhuxi watched them pass the food back and forth and said: “Then have mine — I’m not hungry…”

Before the words were out, Li Wu knocked on the top of her head.

Though it wasn’t hard, it still made Shen Zhuxi glare at him wide-eyed: who did he think he was tapping on? This was a princess’s head!

“Eat yours,” Li Wu said. “Why are you worrying about everyone else?”

He took his own roasted corn off the stake, wrapped it in cloth, and snapped it cleanly in two.

One half of the roasted corn was tossed to Li Que across the fire.

“Take it, and not another word out of you,” Li Wu said.

Li Que caught the corn, visibly moved. “…Thank you, Elder Brother.”

After the four of them finished their simple midnight snack, they each lay down on their respective beds of straw.

Shen Zhuxi slept in the innermost spot, with Li Wu beside her, then the bonfire he had just stoked with more wood, and beyond that Li Que, and finally Li Kun at the outermost edge.

The temple was dilapidated, but with so many breathing bodies around her, Shen Zhuxi was not quite so afraid. Still, she felt very grubby.

It wasn’t that she felt grubby — it was that the abandoned temple simply was grubby.

Lift her eyes and she could see cobwebs and spiders hanging in the corners of the ceiling. Lower them and she could see moldy scraps of food and bonfire ash left behind by travelers who had passed through.

The more she noticed how unclean everything was, the more her skin crawled with imaginary itching.

As she lay there, unable to sleep, the sounds of the others drifting off one by one filled the temple. Shen Zhuxi grew more and more restless, tossing and turning with increasing frequency.

When she couldn’t hold herself back and turned over yet again, Li Wu’s long arm suddenly reached out and drew her into his chest.

“You — ” Every hair on Shen Zhuxi’s body stood on end.

“If you want to wake them up, be louder.”

Shen Zhuxi snapped her mouth shut.

“Are you kneading tomorrow morning’s flatbread with all this rolling about?” Li Wu said under his breath.

No lamplight, and the moonlight had been swallowed whole by the downpour. Cobwebs glimmered with the flickering firelight.

Li Wu’s eyes, too, caught the dim light and glinted with a faint, quiet glow.

“You should sleep…” Shen Zhuxi said.

“If you won’t sleep, do you think I can?” Li Wu said, and drew her a little further in, using his height to his advantage as he effortlessly rested his chin on top of her head. “Little fool — go to sleep.”

This — this — how was she supposed to sleep like this?!

Shen Zhuxi’s heart hammered wildly. She went rigid all over and didn’t dare draw even a single deep breath.

What did this scoundrel think he was doing? Did he really think she was some fourth younger sibling who didn’t share his surname?

“I — you — ” Shen Zhuxi stammered, pushing at his chest.

“I know a good method for making you fall asleep.” Li Wu pulled her hand down, closed his fingers around her wrist, and held it there without letting go.

“What?” The distraction caught Shen Zhuxi’s attention, and she asked quietly.

“Close your eyes.”

Shen Zhuxi hesitated for a moment, then closed them.

“In front of you is a plate — your very favorite plate. On it are over a hundred dumplings, each one different from the last —”

“I don’t like plates with ducks painted on them,” Shen Zhuxi interrupted.

“Fine… no ducks. The plate is all one color, and it’s very large —”

“You haven’t said which kiln it came from. Only a good kiln with fine glaze can produce a plate that truly —”

“…Shen Zhuxi, do you want me to knock you out cold?”

Li Wu’s menacing tone successfully shut Shen Zhuxi’s mouth.

The fearsome scoundrel continued: “On this plate are a great many dumplings. Before you eat, you decide you want to count exactly how many there are…”

Shen Zhuxi thought to herself: why would anyone count dumplings before eating? She had never counted a single one in her life.

Afraid of being knocked unconscious by Li Wu, she kept her complaints firmly inside and held her mouth shut.

“One dumpling, two dumplings, three dumplings…” Li Wu murmured: “Seventy-two dumplings…”

Goodness, that was a lot of dumplings… she couldn’t possibly eat them all. Shen Zhuxi thought in a haze.

“Eighty-nine dumplings, ninety dumplings… one hundred and thirty dumplings…”

So many dumplings…

If only she could invite Sui Rui, Jiu Niang, Zhou Sao, Fan Sanniang… all the folks from Yutou Town to eat them together — wouldn’t that be wonderful…

The more Shen Zhuxi thought, the hazier everything became. Familiar faces from her time in Yutou Town seemed to float up before her. How were they faring — had the famine reached them, did they still have food to eat?

Without her noticing, her Imperial Father and mother consort joined the group eating dumplings.

Shen Zhuxi happily introduced them to the townspeople from Yutou, and to Li Wu as well. Everyone was having a wonderful time — and then Li Wu suddenly bellowed: “WHERE’S MY BRAISED PORK TROTTER?!”

Oh no!

“A row of white clouds parts in sorrow, strung together like braised pork trotters. / The river runs softly down below, and I have told you time and time again.”

Stop, please stop!

“Without wine or trotters, nothing goes right; / you bought the wine and forgot the trotter.”

I was wrong, all right?!

“This bitterness runs on without end, tears choking in a cup of wine. / Without a trotter, what’s the point of wine? / Do this again and we’re done, you and I.”

I was wrong, I’m sorry…

Imperial Father, Mother Consort, save your child…

In her dream, Shen Zhuxi covered her ears against the verse that had been haunting her for what felt like an entire lifetime — and then the grating sound of something being dragged across the floor outside jolted her bolt upright from her nightmare.

Half the firewood had already burned down. The large round stone that had been propped against the door before they slept was being shoved open from outside by force. Several men in neat, half-soaked traveling clothes strode into the abandoned temple, their hands on the hilts of their swords, poking around here and there.

Then, like stars surrounding the moon, a whole group of sword-bearing men escorted a young man in fine brocade robes inside — a young man with red lips and a powdered face.

Shen Zhuxi and Li Wu and the others all sat up. Li Que picked up a stick from the ground to stoke the bonfire, though the corner of his eye never left the group that had just entered. Li Kun sat half-asleep and half-awake, his eyelids fluttering as though he might nod off again at any moment.

Li Wu, closest to Shen Zhuxi, said nothing at all.

His usual steady gaze met hers, and the unease in Shen Zhuxi’s heart settled. Li Wu’s expression was unchanged — he regarded the newcomers as though they were beneath notice. With an apparently casual gesture, he reached up and tugged the quilt down over her head, half-concealing her face.

Shen Zhuxi cooperated and lowered her head, gathering the quilt under her chin with her hands.

The newcomers were large in number and had come well-prepared. In no time at all, a bonfire twice the size of the one in front of Shen Zhuxi was blazing.

“Second Young Master, please take a seat.”

A man who looked like a bodyguard laid out a soft cushion and invited the young man in brocade robes to sit.

“…Mm.” The young man withdrew the probing gaze he had fixed on Li Wu’s group and settled down by the bonfire.

Barely had he settled his backside onto the cushion when the young man in brocade robes sprang up with a grimace:

“I’m freezing to death!”

“Second Young Master…” the bodyguard said, his expression helpless.

“Go! Bring down the tiger hide I killed today!” the Second Young Master ordered imperiously.

The bodyguard bowed in acknowledgment, then glanced at the raging wind and rain outside, and made his way over toward Li Wu’s group. He clasped his hands and said: “Honored guests, would you be willing to sell us an umbrella? I would be happy to pay ten times the market price.”

“Selling is out of the question, but I can lend it to you temporarily,” Li Wu said, nodding toward the oiled-paper umbrella propped nearby.

“My thanks, friend.” The bodyguard took the umbrella and stepped out into the rain.

The door swung open again, and another gust of rain-laden cold swept in. Both bonfires trembled in the chill.

Before long, the bodyguard returned, carrying a bulging bundle. As he untied the cord around it in the firelight, Shen Zhuxi’s entire body went rigid, and a wave of cold crept up her spine!

The tiger hide unfurled — a full person’s width across, black stripes spreading across tawny fur. The blood shed during the skinning still lingered at the edges of the hide. And there, along the tiger’s back — several claw marks, undeniably familiar.

Shen Zhuxi almost could not keep her seat. She had just begun to rise when a hand pressed down over hers.

It was Li Wu.

He gave her the smallest, barely perceptible shake of his head.

Shen Zhuxi gripped her hands tight and sat back down, her stinging eyes fixed hard on the flickering flames before her.

They had killed Li Juan’s mother.

And Li Juan — had Li Juan escaped?