After the complete annihilation of the Jinzhu Stronghold, Li Wu’s reputation in Xuzhou soared.

The Prefect of Xuzhou, Wang Wenzhong, gradually began entrusting him with more significant matters — including the task of driving out the deserters and roving bandits that were disrupting order in Xuzhou.

In these times, the line between soldier and bandit had long since blurred.

In Li Wu’s own words, his most important duty was to “clean up the area around Xuzhou” — clearing out hostile forces both large and small from the region.

In early May, a defeated army — routed by the Liao forces and turned to brigandry — had been lurking around Langye County, repeatedly ambushing travelers and harassing the wealthier households in the district.

Li Wu was given his orders. He led one hundred and twenty men from the garrison out to Langye County, with the earliest expected return to Pengcheng County being five days hence.

Every time he went on campaign, Shen Zhuxi was left sick with anxiety, unable to sleep through the night.

Once she had heard that the families of military men lived in dread — and had thought it an exaggeration. Now she knew it was entirely true, and not something one could govern with reason. Even though she understood clearly that Li Wu was sharp and adaptable, courageous and resourceful, with two brothers at his side — whenever his whereabouts were unknown and his safety uncertain, she could not set down the worry that clenched her heart.

Her parents and siblings had all perished at the hands of brutal soldiers. Every time Li Wu went on campaign, she was plagued by nightmares. How she wished she were as physically formidable as Li Kun — or, at the very least, capable of protecting herself. Only then could she demand, with full conviction, that Li Wu take her along on his campaigns.

But she was not.

She was just a woman with no strength to speak of.

No matter how much she worried, no matter how desperately she wished she could fly to Li Wu’s side in an instant — she had to stay in the safety of the rear. Because only then would Li Wu have nothing to worry about at his back.

The night had deepened. The bright, clear moonlight poured in through the window, and though the hour was late, the candle still flickered in the main room of the courtyard.

After tossing and turning in bed for some time, Shen Zhuxi simply threw on her outer robe and got up.

She lit a candle, took out the book she hadn’t finished during the day, and began to read.

Because of Li Wu, Shen Zhuxi had recently taken an interest in military strategy texts. The world held countless such books — the more she read, the better equipped she might be to prove useful, as she had at Jinzhu Stronghold.

Idle as she was, Shen Zhuxi found military texts far more engaging than playing the zither.

The door of the main room was suddenly pushed open, and the oil lamp on the table flickered with it.

Without looking up, Shen Zhuxi said, “Dì Niang, you’re still not asleep?”

“It’s not Dì Niang — it’s Dì Niang’s mistress’s man who isn’t asleep.”

Shen Zhuxi’s head snapped up.

A travel-worn Li Wu walked into the main room, speaking as irreverently as ever, though there was a trace of fatigue in his eyes. Shen Zhuxi hurriedly rose to welcome him.

“You came back early — why didn’t you send word ahead?” Her voice carried an involuntary delight and excitement. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“Ate on the road. You?”

“I’ve eaten. There should still be food in the kitchen — would you like to have a little more?”

“No need. Saving time means an extra hour of sleep.”

“Are you leaving again at dawn?”

“I’ll go to the garrison to check in — I’ll be back quickly.” Li Wu spoke as he shrugged off his outer robe. “After this, Wang Wenzhong has to give me at least a few days’ rest.”

Only then did Shen Zhuxi feel reassured.

She snatched the robe Li Wu had been about to toss aside, smoothed it flat, and hung it on the clothes rack.

“Dì Niang is already asleep — let me go fetch you some water.”

“No need—” Li Wu pressed both hands down on her shoulders and gently steered her toward the edge of the bed. “A cold rinse will be faster.”

Shen Zhuxi nodded, and Li Wu gave her head a vigorous rub.

“What are you doing!”

Shen Zhuxi thrust out both hands to protect her hair.

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” said Li Wu, walking out of the main room with a smug grin.

With this disruption from Li Wu, the last lingering trace of worry in Shen Zhuxi’s heart finally dissolved completely.

He was still the same infuriating Li Wu she knew — returned from head to toe, exactly as he had left.

One incense stick’s time later, Li Wu came back carrying the damp coolness of his rinse on him, long-limbed and light-footed. The faint, dark phoenix pattern showed through his thin inner garment, flickering in and out of visibility beneath the moonlight.

“Shen Dumb-melon, what have you been up to while I was away?” Li Wu flopped onto the bed and nudged her toward the inside.

Shen Zhuxi straightened the toppled feather duster and said, “Reading, making decorated stationery, strolling outside…”

“You’re still making decorated stationery? Is there not enough money in the house?”

Alarmed at the thought of him taking on disreputable side work, Shen Zhuxi immediately replied, “There’s enough! Plenty! I’m just idle — better to find something to keep myself busy.”

There was another reason she didn’t mention: spending someone else’s money never felt as comfortable as spending your own.

Since leaving the palace, Shen Zhuxi had come to understand more and more — a person with able limbs would never fear losing their support.

Li Wu thought it over and said, “Fair enough. Keeps you from getting bored when I’m not around.”

“It’s not just me — Dì Niang keeps me company,” Shen Zhuxi corrected.

“So what you’re saying is — when I’m away, you and your companions are living it up quite nicely?” Li Wu said. “Is Dì Niang more important, or—”

“You! You’re more important!” Shen Zhuxi said at once.

“That’s more like it,” said Li Wu.

The air fell quiet for some time. Shen Zhuxi blinked, feeling drowsiness rising within her.

She thought the conversation had naturally drawn to a close, and was just about to close her eyes when Li Wu spoke again.

“Shen Dumb-melon.”

“Mm?”

“Do you like Xuzhou?”

His sudden question jolted her back to wakefulness.

“What is it?”

“Do you want to stay here and make a life here?” Li Wu looked into her eyes.

He asked it earnestly, and so Shen Zhuxi answered earnestly: “Staying is fine. Leaving is fine too.”

“Doesn’t it wear on you, being dragged all over with me?”

“What is there to resent?” Shen Zhuxi said without a moment’s hesitation. “People come before place. As long as the four of us stay together, anywhere can be home.”

“…Shen Dumb-melon,” Li Wu said after a long silence. “You’re actually quite good with words.”

The compliment made Shen Zhuxi feel shy. She pressed her lips together and smiled.

“Why are you suddenly asking this?” Shen Zhuxi said. “Are we leaving?”

“We won’t be staying long in any case.” Li Wu put both hands behind his head as a pillow and stared up at the ceiling beams with an unhurried air. “I want to see the world — not just Xiangzhou, Xuzhou… I want to go see the territories of all sixteen military governors. If I ever get the chance, the first place I’d go would be the Northern Capital.”

“The Northern Capital? Are you out of your mind!” Shen Zhuxi was alarmed. “Han Fengnian is still trying to have you killed!”

“If I went to the Northern Capital, who’d be killing whom — that’s far from decided,” said Li Wu, unconcerned.

“Why must you take these risks?”

Li Wu said with confidence, “Didn’t Confucius say — know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win a hundred battles.”

…Confucius never said that.

Shen Zhuxi swallowed her correction and said instead, “But they are subjects of the Great Yan — not your enemies.”

Li Wu quirked the corner of his mouth. “The realm is already fragmented — each man declaring himself king is only a matter of time. If you wait until that day to start gathering intelligence, it’ll be too late.”

He had convinced her. Never mind that her imperial father was gone — even when he had been alive, these military governors had repeatedly paid lip service while acting on their own agenda. Now that the Great Yan was crumbling, there was no telling how many would still heed Emperor Yuanlong’s commands.

Li Wu was always like this — appearing rough and careless on the surface, yet sharp and meticulous beneath.

“If the chance ever came, would you still want to be reunited with Emperor Yuanlong?”

Li Wu’s question sent Shen Zhuxi into a moment of hesitation.

In the past, she would never have hesitated.

“What’s so good about the palace?” Li Wu turned onto his side and pressed further. “Nothing in the palace feels free — and the three of us wouldn’t be there. If you went back — wouldn’t that mean losing your home?”

He had turned her own words back on her.

Shen Zhuxi averted her gaze and said quietly, “…You three still have a home. From the very beginning, there were three of you.”

“From the very beginning, there was only me.” said Li Wu. “Then two, then three — and now four. Lose any one of us, and this home is no longer whole.”

A quiet, wordless tenderness swept over Shen Zhuxi’s heart.

He had not spoken of the difficulties — yet Shen Zhuxi understood. The moment she reclaimed her identity as the Princess of Yue, she would have to take on the responsibilities that came with it.

If Fu Xuanmiao was still willing to be her prince consort, she would be sent to the Fu household. If not, she would be sent to a neighboring state to forge an alliance.

She was bound to be separated from Li Wu and the others. The life they had now would be gone forever. No matter how unwilling Li Wu might be, he could not defy an imperial decree.

Li Wu did not press her for an answer. He said softly, “Sleep… let’s open our eyes together in the morning.”

Shen Zhuxi’s ears grew warm.

She turned over, her back to Li Wu, and after a long moment, let out a sound barely louder than a mosquito’s hum from deep in her throat.

“…Mm.”

The next day, the sunlight streaming through the window woke her naturally. Li Wu’s figure was already gone from beside her.

She rubbed her eyes and walked out of the main room — and there he was. Li Wu, bare-chested again, was chopping wood in the courtyard.

“You really can sleep — a little longer and I’d have come to drag you out—” Li Wu set down the axe and used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his face.

Sweat trickled down his neck and slid across his broad, muscular chest, running over the soaring phoenix tattoo, seeping into the loose trousers below his navel—

Shen Zhuxi turned her head away, flushed with embarrassment, and said in a voice both mortified and indignant: “Why are you chopping wood again! I just bought several bundles of firewood at the market the day before yesterday!”

“You never told me,” Li Wu said, entirely unapologetic.

“When you used water last night, didn’t you see the woodpile in the back courtyard?”

Li Wu shook his head without hesitation. “Didn’t notice.”

Last night he hadn’t had time to eat — yet this morning he had time to chop wood. Did he truly value chopping wood more than eating?

Shen Zhuxi was too annoyed to look at him. She turned and headed toward the back courtyard.

“What’s the rush — look at this glorious sunshine. Don’t you want to enjoy it a little longer before you go?”

Li Wu’s voice came from behind her. Without turning back, Shen Zhuxi said, “I don’t!”

Li Wu watched her disappear without a single backward glance. He set down the axe and muttered in mild resignation, “Fine, don’t look — one day you’ll be begging me to let you look…”

“Mistress—”

Dì Niang’s cheerful voice rang out from the front courtyard. Li Wu, like a startled rabbit, threw his arm across his chest and bolted into the main room.

“Oh? Where’s the mistress?” Dì Niang walked into the back courtyard, puzzled to find it completely empty, with only a lonely axe lying on the ground.

“How strange…” Dì Niang tilted her head, then continued on toward the kitchen with her basket of fresh vegetables and fruit.

A freshly washed Shen Zhuxi came out and spotted Dì Niang, and happily invited her to stay for breakfast. Knowing Li Wu’s cooking, Dì Niang accepted with delight.

Using freshly picked green onions, Li Wu made three steaming bowls of fragrant scallion oil noodles, then changed into his regular clothes and headed to the garrison.

The moment he stepped through the garrison gate, he saw those soldiers who on ordinary days were too lazy to even chase off basking snakes — now gathered together in excitement, each of them holding a brightly colored longevity cord.

“The Centurion’s here!” someone called out.

“Big brother! Big brother!” Li Kun waved his hands enthusiastically.

“What are you all crowding around for?” Li Wu called out. “Eaten too much with nothing better to do? Have you all finished your drills?”

Li Que stepped out from the crowd, his gaze glancing briefly toward the room inside.

“Big brother, Miss Wang is here.”

“Which Miss Wang?”

Before Li Wu had even finished speaking, Wang Shiyong — who had just risen and walked to the doorway — froze in her smile. But she recovered quickly, lifting a warm and gentle expression once more.

“Mister Li, it’s me.”