That night, the great banquet hall of Prince Qi’s residence blazed with lanterns, gathering nearly every high-ranking official and man of prominence in the court beneath its roof.

Among the sea of indigo and purple robes filling the hall, the most conspicuous guest of honor was, without question, Xie Changgeng himself.

He was departing for Hexi the following morning, and the esteemed Prince Qi had hosted this evening banquet expressly in his honor. Cups were raised and lowered amid the clamor of music and song; one after another the guests toasted Xie Changgeng with words of reverence and farewell, voices raised in laughter and unceasing flattery.

After three rounds of wine, Xie Changgeng rose and left the table. When he returned along the curved corridor leading to the banquet hall, the steps below — which had been empty before — now bore a solitary figure: a man in a gold coronet and richly embroidered robes, his face white as snow in the moonlight, his eyes dark and intent, staring at him. It was Zhao Xitai, the heir apparent of Prince Qi.

Xie Changgeng walked toward him.

“Xie Changgeng — all those people in there toasting you, sending you off, with their mouths full of flattery. But who do you think you are, truly? You are nothing but a former bandit. In their eyes, you are nothing more than the Empress Dowager’s hound. The day she has no further use for you — I look forward to seeing what becomes of you.”

Zhao Xitai spoke from behind him.

Scions of princes and nobles were often men of sentiment.

Why this stranger — this heir apparent of Prince Qi, who had never crossed paths with him — should harbor such deep resentment toward him, Xie Changgeng understood perfectly well.

Words of provocation like these, to the Xie Changgeng who had passed his fourteenth year, would ordinarily never even register — why should he bother with them?

But tonight, perhaps with the wine doing its work, he found himself thinking of what that woman had once told him — that she had already been attached to someone at the time of their betrothal. He thought of the name she had cried out in her sleep that night. His face felt warm, his ears hot. The headstrong spirit of youth flared in him, and for a moment he felt a sharp, willful pride.

He slowly stopped walking. He turned his head and locked eyes with Zhao Xitai for a moment, then walked back and came to stand directly before him.

“And what of it? Yet your own royal father — has he not seated me, this bandit, this hound, as the guest of honor at his table?”

“Young Lord Zhao, you may never live to see what becomes of me. But as for you, right now — things do not seem to be going particularly well for you.”

“The woman you long for — she is a rare beauty, is that it? A pity. She belongs to me. All you can do is lurk in corners where no one can see, thinking of her. And sending her a letter requires borrowing your own mother’s name.”

He looked at Zhao Xitai, whose face in the moonlight had gone rigid, and allowed a faint smile touched with deliberate cruelty to cross his lips.

“I will treat her well. You needn’t worry.”

He gave Zhao Xitai a pat on the shoulder, turned, and walked away with great ease.

Xie Changgeng came back very late that night, carrying the smell of wine that lingered from the farewell banquet. He had clearly drunk a great deal. He went to the bathing room, changed into a middle layer of sleeping clothes, and came out — then, as on every other night, walked straight to the couch, lay down, and closed his eyes to sleep.

Having been busy for much of the evening, the luggage had long since been packed. Mu Fulan had been waiting for his return, but seeing that he had come back drunk, she let it rest.

The night was very deep. Faintly, from a distant alley, came the sound of the third watch drum. Mu Fulan lay awake, gazing through the bed curtains at the pale wash of moonlight spilling in through the window. Lost in thought, she suddenly heard the faint sound of shifting from the couch across the room. Looking over, she saw that the quilted covering that had been draped over Xie Changgeng had slipped to the floor.

The two of them coexisted while remaining estranged, sleeping in separate beds — this was no secret to the people in Mu Fulan’s service. Nanny Mu, knowing the couch was a bit short for Xie Changgeng, had long ago joined another couch end to end at its foot. It was long enough now, but still narrow. He had turned over in his sleep, and the covering had slid off.

The winter night air was cold. The figure on the couch slept deeply, unaware, motionless.

Mu Fulan watched for a long while, and at last climbed down from the bed. She walked over and picked up the covering that had fallen to the ground.

The man lay on his back, eyes closed, his face turned slightly inward, most of it hidden in shadow. In the soft dimness of the night, the moonlight traced out the profile of a young, refined face.

Mu Fulan leaned close to the edge of the couch and put the covering back over him. The moment it touched his body, he snapped his eyes open — fully awake.

Swift as lightning. Before Mu Fulan could react, she felt a sudden tightening around her wrist. He had seized it with one hand.

His grip was immense. The pain cut straight to the bone.

She gasped and, enduring the pain, said: “It is me. Your covering fell. I was putting it back.”

The hand gripping her wrist slowly released its force and let go.

Mu Fulan immediately stepped back.

He came fully awake quickly, eased himself upright, and said: “Is there water?” His voice was low and dry.

Mu Fulan lit the candle, poured water, and brought it over to him.

He drank it, then lay back down. After a moment, with eyes still closed, he asked the woman still standing nearby: “Is there something else?”

Mu Fulan said: “Thank you for helping me. I am truly grateful.”

He gave no response. He kept his eyes closed, as though he had sunk back into a deep sleep.

Mu Fulan stood there a moment, then walked to the table and extinguished the candle.

The light in the room went dark again, leaving only a patch of moonlight filtering in through the window.

She turned around and was just stepping back toward the bed when a voice came suddenly from behind: “Consort Mu — send word to your royal brother. Tell him to be a good deal more careful, and not to let his mind wander toward things it should not. If he brings trouble upon himself, there will be no one who can save him when the time comes.”

Mu Fulan’s heart gave a quiet jolt. She slowly turned back, toward the dim shape of the figure on the couch.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“A man of small wit who schemes grandly, of small strength who takes on heavy burdens — such a man usually dies quickly. And if he also holds high office, the ruin he brings is all the greater. This is not my way of belittling your royal brother. Whether in ability or in the art of ruling, he falls far short of your father. If he stays in his place and guards what he has, your Mu family can hold on to this princedom. But if he lacks self-awareness and starts thinking he can move against the Empress Dowager on his own, the kingdom’s ruin will come in the space of a morning.”

He pushed off the covering and sat up.

“The first time he ever met me, he showed his resentment openly. Four years have passed since then — and other than his growing dislike and bitterness toward me, I see not the slightest sign that he has made any progress.”

Mu Fulan understood. He was speaking in general terms. He did not know what Changsha Kingdom was quietly doing at this very moment.

She said, “Then what path should Changsha Kingdom take from here?”

Xie Changgeng said nothing.

“You know as well as anyone — the Empress Dowager regards our Mu family as a thorn in her side. Even if my royal brother has no desire to rebel, she can always manufacture a reason. Would we simply wait passively for death when the time comes?”

“Last time, it was by going through Zhang Ban’s channels that we narrowly avoided a military catastrophe. Are we to go on relying on him to argue us clear of the Empress Dowager every time? I fear Zhang Ban does not have that kind of reach.”

She continued to speak.

Xie Changgeng gave a short sound of contempt. “If a mere Zhang Ban can turn aside a military disaster for you, does that make me, Xie Changgeng, worth less than Zhang Ban?”

“You mean — you are still willing to protect Changsha Kingdom?” she asked.

“Protecting a mere Changsha Kingdom — how difficult could that be for me?” he replied.

Perhaps it was the remaining effects of the wine — in the stillness of this deep night, speaking to her, his voice carried a rare pride that seldom showed itself in his ordinary manner.

Mu Fulan was silent a moment, then asked him: “Then — what would our Mu family need to do for you?”

An exchange — it was always an exchange.

Just as in the past, when her father had used the condition of recommending him into government service in exchange for several years of peace at Changsha Kingdom’s four borders, that marriage contract had been nothing more than the instrument that gave the exchange a veneer of decorum.

He was silent. His gaze settled on her.

She had climbed down from the bed. Her garments were properly arranged, but thin — a gauze robe draped loosely over her shoulders. Moonlight poured in through the window beside her, and beneath the thin fabric the curves of her silhouette were faintly, dimly visible, present and yet not quite there.

The night seemed to thicken and slow. The cold pressed in, growing heavier. Mu Fulan stood in the dimness by the table for a long while, and gradually began to feel the chill — her skin prickling with goosebumps.

“When there is need, I will say so.”

He drew his gaze back, and lay down once more.