Mu Fulan was in the medicine cottage, sorting through the medical travel journals and herbal logs that the old physician had accumulated over half a lifetime of wandering — records piled up in boxes.

Outside the window, on an open patch of ground, Xi’er gripped a sword of black wood, sparring with a guard.

From the day after his return, Xi’er had of his own accord taken Yuan Handing as his teacher and begun learning swordsmanship. He applied himself with extraordinary seriousness, and with great diligence. In the several days since Mu Fulan had brought him to Junshan, he would, before dawn each morning, rise the moment he heard the crow of A’Da’s rooster, crawl out of bed, and begin practicing his sword forms. After finishing sword practice, he would then copy out a piece of calligraphy. Not only did he do this without fail each day, but just the evening before, Nanny Mu had discovered several bruises on his body when he bathed — clearly the marks of blows received during sword practice.

Nanny Mu had been deeply distressed, and had even come quietly to Mu Fulan early that morning to discuss the idea of secretly slaughtering the rooster and making a stew of it — to spare it from waking the Young Master at the crack of dawn each day and making him work himself so hard.

The sound of wooden blades clashing drifted into Mu Fulan’s ears at intervals, then suddenly stopped.

“The sword is made of wood — it cannot hurt me! Even if you hurt me, my mother will not blame you! If you continue to be this perfunctory, I will replace you — you need not follow me anymore!”

“Are enemies on the battlefield as considerate to you as I have been?”

A child’s voice, sharp with irritation, floated in on the breeze.

“Young Master, please calm your anger! This subordinate obeys!”

The guard appeared to have dropped to his knees.

Very soon, the forceful sound of wooden blades striking each other rang out again nearby.

Mu Fulan set down her brush, her thoughts gradually drifting.

This child — compared with the child she remembered from the years they had spent together in the old residence at Xie County, he seemed somehow changed.

Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned and saw a maidservant enter.

The maidservant brought an oral message from Hua Niang, asking how to proceed from here onward.

The matter of the Kingdom of Changsha’s army-building had become known to all under heaven, given the war against the Jiang Rong and the subsequent Battle of Fuzhou.

The peddler Zhu Liuhu, who had been installed and was living in a back alley of Yue City, was no longer of any importance.

She stood at the window of the cottage.

Sunlight filtered through the lattice of the window frame, quietly falling across her face, as if her skin had been bathed in a soft, gentle radiance.

“Go tell Hua Niang to find an opportunity and come back.”

A moment later, she turned her head and said.

The maidservant left. She walked out of the cottage and, past a bed of medicinal herbs, gazed into the distance at the figures of the child and the guard at their sword practice.

Strike, lunge, sidestep, clash. Every movement, the small figure practiced with absolute seriousness — meticulous, without the slightest slackening.

“Back then, Lord Xie would rise before the fifth watch each day — once he had finished reading, he would use this to practice his sword forms. The sword is nothing precious, but it has accompanied Lord Xie through all these years. Now that you are leaving, I give it to you. In the years to come, when you are grown, study hard and train diligently with your sword as well. Will you do that?”

In Mu Fulan’s ears, it seemed to echo — the words spoken by that man on the day he had caught up with them at the outskirts of Guzang city, in the pale grey dawn light, bidding farewell to the child as he saw him off.

A sudden restlessness welled up within her. Not wishing to disturb the child, she turned and was about to slip quietly away when A’Da came running up to say that Chancellor Lu had arrived.

Mu Xuanqing had declined the marriage proposal from Prince Qi’s eldest son on his younger sister’s behalf — that went without saying. But he had done something else as well.

After hosting the delegation at a banquet, the previous night Mu Xuanqing had met privately with Zhao Xitai, and the two had spoken at length.

It was said that Zhao Xitai had delivered a letter written personally by Prince Qi, inviting the Kingdom of Changsha to jointly deploy troops and overthrow Empress Dowager Liu.

Over the years, the Kingdom of Changsha had repeatedly been subjected to the suspicion of the court, living as though a blade hung perpetually above their heads, and the ministers of Changsha had long grown accustomed to treading with extreme caution. Though that blade had now fallen, it had thankfully not destroyed them — the Kingdom of Changsha had a foundation to stand on, and the situation was, for the time being, stable.

So long as the current situation could be preserved, that was the greatest good fortune of all.

One could well imagine the panic this sudden news would bring upon the ministers of Changsha. Lu Lin, filled with unease and anxiety, had thought of the Princess and come in person at the earliest hour to ask her to return to the city to deliberate on the matter.

“Something of great consequence is likely about to happen!”

“After the Prince of Pingyang suffered his defeat, Prince Qi directed the allied forces to continue advancing on the capital, but they were blocked by the forces Xie Changgeng had deployed, and suffered repeated setbacks. Their troops remain pinned in Jinzhou, unable to advance. Although our Kingdom of Changsha has been labeled a rebel faction by the court, we are at least able to maintain our own stability for now. But if His Majesty is persuaded and sends troops, then I fear the Kingdom of Changsha will have no more days of peace! His Majesty has always listened to your counsel — I implore the Princess to advise him to think carefully before acting. Under no circumstances should he be deceived by Prince Qi and his son!”

Mu Fulan changed her clothes, summoned Xi’er, instructed him to stay here peacefully, and descended the mountain herself.

She returned to the city.

The city was nothing like the tranquil serenity of the mountains and the lake. Inn attendants calling out to travelers, peddlers carrying their loads on shoulder poles, and performers from other parts of the country. The streets were alive with the rumble of carriages and the press of people. Countless miles of mountains and passes separated them from the battlefield in Hexi — that conflagration of war sweeping up hundreds of thousands of soldiers — and yet it bore no connection whatsoever to this bright, warm southern sky. In the din and bustle, thick with the flavors of everyday life, the whole city was a picture of peaceful order.

People on the road recognized the carriage in which Mu Fulan traveled and knew she had come down from Junshan.

Their Princess — born of noble lineage, beautiful as a deity, gifted with a healer’s hands and a kind heart — had been coldly cast aside by that husband of hers, a man who had once been the chief of a great band of outlaws, in the midst of the Kingdom of Changsha’s hour of peril. This news had long since been known to everyone. Yet rather than damaging the Princess’s standing in the hearts of Changsha’s people, it had instead won her far greater sympathy and devotion. By sharp contrast, at the mere mention of that man with the surname Xie in recent days, the people would curse without ceasing — damning him for serving as Empress Dowager Liu’s hunting hawk, for having the heart of a wolf and the lungs of a dog, faithless and heartless.

The people stepped aside one after another, kneeling along the sides of the street, breath held in reverent silence as the carriage bearing her passed before them, moving in the direction of the royal palace.

Mu Fulan returned to the royal palace and came to Xuanchong Hall.

Her elder brother Mu Xuanqing sat alone behind a writing table, his gaze fixed upon the golden seal lying before him, perfectly motionless.

Lu Shi had said he had entered this morning and not come back out, receiving no one.

Mu Fulan’s brow creased slightly, her heart filled with worry.

She slowly walked forward until she stood before her brother, and stopped.

Her gaze followed his and came to rest upon the golden seal.

She knew this object well, of course. The serpent-knobbed royal seal — from more than two hundred years ago, when the Mu clan was enfeoffed here, it had come to be a symbol of the royal clan’s power and glory, and so it had remained to this day.

“Brother, have you truly made up your mind?”

Mu Fulan asked him.

Mu Xuanqing slowly lifted his head and looked at his younger sister.

He said, “Little sister, I have made up my mind. Even if Zhao Xitai had not come, I would have sent troops regardless.”

“Our aunt’s death must be avenged! War has broken out in Hexi, and Xie Changgeng is pinned down there — he cannot bring his troops back. He thinks himself possessed of infallible foresight, and before leaving the passes, he set his forces in place to deal with Prince Qi and his allies, but he never anticipated that the Mu clan would be a factor. This is the best opportunity Heaven has bestowed upon us.”

“Once the treacherous empress dowager is removed, I will bring our aunt back home and have her buried in our own ancestral grounds.”

He rose to his feet, drew his sword, and brought it down in a single stroke — splitting the golden seal before him in two, sending the halves clattering to the floor.

“I have waited a very long time for this day. Little sister, do not try to stop me.”

Mu Xuanqing’s eyes were filled with veins of red. He spoke each word with that same deliberate force.

Mu Fulan looked at her brother.

She did not wish to see her brother embroiled in a campaign such as this — one tangled through with scheming, treachery, and calculated conspiracy. But deep in her heart, she knew with perfect clarity that she could not stop him.

From the day she had brought her brother back from the brink of death, this had become an inevitable outcome. This was a threshold that the Mu clan, so long as they drew breath, could not look away from and ignore.

In this moment, it was as though countless words jostled against each other and surged to her lips. Yet not a single one of them could she speak aloud.

She could only think of many years ago, when she had still been a small girl — and her aunt, in her dying moments, had asked her to sing the folk songs of their homeland.

She had also asked whether Chancellor Yuan was still well.

Mu Fulan’s throat tightened.

She drew a deep breath and said, “Brother, I will not stop you. But you must be sure to go north together with General Yuan, leading our finest and most battle-hardened soldiers. You must be on your guard against those people.”

“Here, there is me. I will guard our home for you, Brother!”

A few days later, the young King of the Mu clan, Mu Xuanqing, and Yuan Handing led their troops in a heaven-worship ceremony in the outskirts of the city. Once the ceremony was complete, the army would set out northward, embarking on their long campaign.

In every corner of the city, the people spoke of nothing else. Brimming with excitement and pride, they went in great numbers to send off the troops.

Zhu Liuhu was among the crowd, watching from a distance as the Mu clan’s army spread across the open plain.

Column after column, the formation stretched so far the end could not be seen. The soldiers wore bright, gleaming armor, their long spears rising like a forest.

In the days that had passed — right before his very eyes — something must have been happening. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for Mu Xuanqing to raise, in so short a time, an army that was visibly and unmistakably battle-ready just at a glance.

He knew in his heart that once this army marched north, it would have an enormous impact on the Military Governor’s plans.

It was all too late. He had failed in his duty — failed utterly and completely.

He could no longer deceive himself.

His mind in turmoil, he did not wait for the army to depart. He turned away and headed back to where he lived.

That young widow had injured her leg and foot the night she fell. Once she had recovered, she had become his woman. He had moved out of his previous lodgings and brought her with him to a small village outside the city, telling the neighbors the false story that they were husband and wife.

Most of the villagers had gone to see the troops off. The entrance to the village was quiet and still — not a soul in sight, only a large yellow dog sprawled lazily on the ground, basking in the sun.

He returned to that thatched cottage. Just as he was about to push open the door, it opened from within.

The woman, clutching a small bundle in her hands, was looking downward as though about to go out. Unexpectedly bumping into him coming back, she seemed startled clean out of her wits. The bundle in her hand slipped and fell to the ground.

“Where are you going?”

Zhu Liuhu’s gaze lifted from the bundle on the ground and came to rest on the woman’s eyes — eyes that looked as though they had been recently crying, still tinged with a reddish swelling — and he asked, his tone cold.

Hua Niang’s face had gone a little pale. Quickly, she bent and picked up the bundle from the ground, and forced a smile. “I just received a message that my family back home…”

Before she could finish, the man before her shoved her backward inside with brute force, slamming her roughly against the earthen wall at her back.

A glint of cold light flashed. The man’s hand now held a dagger. The sharp tip pressed against her throat.

“Are you one of the Princess’s people?” His eyes were bloodshot as he demanded with vicious menace.

Hua Niang held his gaze for a moment, then closed her eyes and said quietly, “If you wish to kill me, then kill me. I will not blame you.”