Zhu Liuhu, posing as a traveling peddler, spent his days either carrying his shoulder pole through the streets and alleys, or moving among the crowds, keeping himself hidden in the lanes and side streets not far from the Mu royal palace, watching for any sign of unusual activity.

He had adopted the alias Zhu Liu. His features were unremarkable, his conduct inconspicuous. He went out early and came back late with his shoulder pole, and whenever he crossed paths with neighbors he greeted them with a cheerful smile, casually pressing a free handful of sweet sesame candies into children’s hands. The women of the neighborhood bought threads and needles from him, for which he would accept no payment. The neighbors all thought him an honest and simple-hearted country man saving up money to take a wife — who could have imagined that in a former life he had been a murderous outlaw from the wilds?

In this manner he had settled himself in that lane near the royal palace. Nearly half a year had gone by in the blink of an eye, and he had not noticed anything out of the ordinary — save for one thing that had caught his attention.

He had long heard the news that the Mu royal clan was building a royal mausoleum on the lands at Ru. Since there was nothing abnormal within the city, and out of caution — as well as a desire to give the Military Governor a report that would satisfy himself as well — he planned to leave Yue City soon and set out for the Ru lands to investigate the matter personally.

Having made his decision, on that particular day he packed up and returned early with his shoulder pole, gave the remaining sweet sesame beans to the children who came running toward him, carried his empty pole inside, shut the door, drank a few mouthfuls of cold water, and then stretched out on that bed — temporarily assembled from a broken door plank — and closed his eyes. Just as he did, he heard a few gentle knocks at the door.

The knocking was light and slow, and familiar to the ear.

The man’s heart gave a faint skip. He opened his eyes at once, got up, and went to the door.

Standing outside was a young woman dressed in a plain rough hemp skirt, around twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, with fair, clean skin and gentle eyes and brows. She held in her hands a large rough-glazed bowl still steaming with heat. Seeing Zhu Liuhu open the door and appear, she said with a bright smile: “Big Brother Zhu, I made noodles this evening and cooked too many, so I brought a bowl over for you as well.”

This young woman was a widow who lived in the house diagonally across from him, called Hua Niang. She had come to this place as a refugee, she said — all her family were dead. She made her living washing and laundering for others and doing embroidery work, rarely going out. Since Zhu Liuhu had settled here, he passed by her door each day coming and going, often crossing paths with her. The woman had bought needles and thread from him, and through these small exchanges they had come to know each other. Learning that he was a bachelor, she had often sent over food she had made, or helped him mend his clothes.

“Eat it while it’s hot. It won’t taste good if it gets cold.” Seeing him standing there looking at her without moving, the woman urged him along.

Zhu Liuhu finally came back to himself, acknowledged her, took the bowl with both hands, set it on the small table propped against the wall, sat down, and lowered his head to eat with loud, satisfied slurps.

Hua Niang did not leave right away. Standing at the doorway, she glanced at the empty shoulder pole resting in the corner and the travel pack sitting on the table, and said: “Big Brother Zhu, do you have any clothes that need washing? Bring them over. I’m washing other people’s clothes tonight — I’ll do yours too while I’m at it.”

Zhu Liuhu shook his head.

The woman nodded: “Then eat slowly. When you’re done, just leave the bowl and chopsticks. I’ll come and collect them later.” She turned and left.

Only then did Zhu Liuhu lift his head to watch her walk into the door of the house diagonally across from his. The door closed; her figure disappeared.

He set down his chopsticks.

Having followed the Military Governor for many years, when he thought back on it — it had been either blades licked on the edge of death, or rushing from place to place without rest. Walking to this day, it seemed these quiet, simple months in this humble lane were the most settled time of all.

He could not have said from which day it had started, but somehow, coming back in the evening with his shoulder pole, waiting for this young widow from across the lane to come and knock on his door and bring him the hot meal she had made too much of that evening — this had quietly become a hidden, faint anticipation he carried in his heart each day.

Once he left, there would be no woman who would make a hot bowl of noodle soup especially for him anymore, and no woman who would mend and wash his clothes.

Thinking that this evening’s meal was the last, a trace of loss rose in the man’s heart despite himself.

But there was nothing to be done. He was not this peddler named Zhu Liu. He had his own affairs to attend to.

He lowered his head, finished the noodles, drank the last of the broth, rinsed the bowl and chopsticks himself with water, and waited for her to come and collect them. He waited a long time without seeing her, and eventually rose, walked to the shoulder pole, lifted the cover, took out several skeins of silk thread he had deliberately saved from the day’s selling, along with the several strings of coins he had accumulated during these months of playing peddler, and carried it all together with the bowl and chopsticks to the house across the lane.

Zhu Liuhu walked to Hua Niang’s door and heard from inside a faint, continuous sound of moaning — a sound of unmistakable pain.

Zhu Liuhu was startled and pushed the door open immediately.

The door had been only half-latched; he pushed it open at once.

On the table, an oil lamp burned. In its dim light, a small and simple room was revealed. Outside on the ground lay some clothes that had not yet been washed. The sound of moaning came from the inner room.

Zhu Liuhu called out her name, set down what was in his hands, and walked quickly inside, where he saw Hua Niang lying on the ground, soaking wet. Beside her was a foot-washing basin; the water in it had splashed out and the ground was in a drenched mess.

“Big Brother Zhu… I wasn’t careful just now, and I slipped and fell. My leg may be broken…”

Hua Niang’s expression was pained. She raised her face and looked at him with tears in her eyes.

……

The following day, when Mu Fulan received Hua Niang’s message, she was in her room teaching Xi’er to practice his characters.

Sunlight streamed through the latticed window, and the air carried the soft fragrance of spring blossoms. Clear birdsong rang nearby. Mu Fulan had a serving maid stay with Xi’er and went out herself, unfolding the letter she had just received.

Hua Niang was indeed a widow — her husband had died in the early years of their marriage. But her true identity was that of an instructing matron within the royal palace, sharp-witted and capable. Having been given the assignment some time before, she had left the palace and settled in, keeping Zhu Liuhu under surveillance.

In her letter, Hua Niang said that the previous night she had seen Zhu Liuhu clear out his peddler’s pack and pack up his travel bundle, and had suspected he was about to leave the city. Uncertain whether he was leaving the Kingdom of Changsha entirely or heading elsewhere to gather further intelligence, she had used a ruse to keep him in place first.

As to the next step — she awaited the young mistress’s instructions.

Zhu Liuhu was the informant Xie Changgeng had left behind.

But this person could not be touched. Moving against Zhu Liuhu would be no different from startling the grass and alarming the snake — it would be telling Xie Changgeng that this side was on guard against him. Given Xie Changgeng’s suspicious nature, if he truly fixed his attention and refused to let go, there was probably nothing that could be kept from him.

The mining operation and arms-forging site in the mountains at Ru — such a large undertaking could not remain secret forever. Sooner or later, someone would find out.

The critical point was to ensure that before the Kingdom of Changsha completed its military expansion, under no circumstances could he — or the agents of Empress Dowager Liu — discover it.

That secret was the most important thing of all.

Compared to that, everything else right now was secondary.

Zhu Liuhu was a living person — and given that Xie Changgeng had left him there, the man was surely no ordinary operative. Rather than risk him leaving Yue City to investigate Ru, it was far better to keep him held in place right under their eyes, eliminating any possibility of discovery.

Mu Fulan wrote back, telling Hua Niang to do her best to find ways to keep him in Yue City. She also reminded her to be careful — for now, only keeping him in place was necessary; there was no need to keep him under too close a watch day to day, lest he become suspicious.

The letter was sent off. Mu Fulan thought of Yuan Handing again.

She had been back for some days now. Calculating the distance of Yuan Handing’s journey there and back, if all had gone smoothly, he should be returning very soon.

Given Xie Changgeng’s standing, even if he still bore a grudge against her royal brother and was dissatisfied with her, he would likely not go out of his way to make things difficult for Yuan Handing, who had come in the capacity of an envoy.

That much dignity, at least, he should still have.

But lately she could not say why — perhaps because she had a little more time to herself — whenever she thought of Yuan Handing’s trip to Hexi, she no longer felt as certain as she had at the start. There was an unsettled feeling in her heart that she could not dispel.

It was a very strange feeling, as though something unpleasant was about to happen, yet she could not put her finger on what.

She hoped only that Yuan Handing would return quickly and come back safely. Only then would she be able to set her mind at ease.

“Young mistress, the Prince asks that you come to Xuanchong Hall — he says General Yuan has returned!”

A serving maid came to report.

Mu Fulan was momentarily taken aback, then let out a breath of relief, and hurried to Mu Xuanqing’s study at Xuanchong Hall.

Before she had even walked inside, she could hear laughter coming from within.

Mu Fulan quickened her step and entered to see Yuan Handing already inside, talking with her royal brother. Both of their faces carried smiles.

She immediately set down the greater part of her anxiety.

“Royal brother, Elder Brother Yuan!”

She called out to both of them.

Yuan Handing had just ridden into the city and come straight here without stopping to rest. He was dusty from the road, but his spirits looked excellent.

Mu Fulan asked him about the journey. He said: “When I arrived at Guzang, I learned you had already returned, and so I conveyed the Prince’s letter to Military Governor Xie and expressed our gratitude. The Military Governor raised no objections — everything went smoothly.”

Mu Fulan finally let her heart rest completely, laughing quietly at herself for having worried needlessly, and said: “Thank you, Elder Brother Yuan, for all this tireless back-and-forth travel without a single moment’s rest. Now that you are back, please rest well for a time.”

Yuan Handing said respectfully: “The young mistress returning safely is the greatest good news of all. I am not weary.”

Mu Xuanqing dismissed everyone, closed the door, and with a single motion pulled back the curtain behind him. He smiled and said: “Younger sister, Handing — look!”

Behind the curtain was a weapons rack. On it were arranged swords, spears, shields, iron bows, and a full suit of armor.

He strode over, took down a sword, drew it from its scabbard, tested the edge with his finger, then brought it down against the corner of the nearby table.

The tabletop was several inches thick, made of hard ebony — yet at his single stroke the corner fell clean away. The keenness of the blade was plain to see.

“Younger sister, Handing — this is the first batch of weapons produced at Ru. Five hundred each of swords and blades, one thousand iron bows, and various quantities of spears, shields, and armor — all have already been transported here by water. The soldiers, who until now have only drilled daily with wooden swords and wooden spears, have long been waiting and watching with eager eyes. The first shipment has been sent to Zhashan Island for distribution. The rest will arrive very soon.”

“It will not be long before every one of our soldiers is fully equipped!”

Mu Xuanqing’s eyes shone with brilliance. He returned the sword to its scabbard and looked toward Yuan Handing.

“Handing, you are well versed in the art of war. From now on, I am counting on you to apply yourself to the training of our troops!”

Yuan Handing said: “Your Highness may rest assured! I will spare no effort!”

Mu Xuanqing nodded, then turned to Mu Fulan.

“Younger sister, that Changsha has come this far today — you too have played an indispensable part! Our late father, watching from above, must be filled with the deepest comfort.”

Mu Fulan gazed at the weapons laid out before her — one by one, forged and ready — and the excitement within her was no less than Mu Xuanqing’s.

Changsha was not poor. Its treasury and granaries were full. Now with weapons, with an army, other things could at last be dared to think about.

She came out of her royal brother’s study and was calming herself when her sister-in-law Lu Shi came hurrying to find her with a piece of newly received news.

Zhao Xitai, son of Prince Qi, having heard of the medicine elder’s fame as a divine healer, had come specifically to seek medical treatment. His party had already reached the outskirts of the city and would shortly arrive.