The second day after the lecture at the Stargazing Terrace, the Andu Prefecture’s head constable arrived at Sanhé Academy with his men, following orders received.

The constable’s name was Gu Liang — a heavy tongue might easily mangle it into “Maiden” — but the man himself was a stout fellow approaching fifty, reportedly a former soldier with solid martial skills, with an honest and guileless appearance, deeply beloved by the Andu Prefecture yamen runners and patrolmen.

Hua Yitang had stayed up through the night writing two case dossiers for the Sanhé Academy matters — one detailing Qi Mu’s attempted murder, and one detailing the embezzlement of the renovation funds. Gu Liang listened to a brief summary of the case and was left completely stunned. After a while, he scratched his head and said, “Military Adviser Hua, well done! Honestly speaking, Old Liang here didn’t quite follow all of it — but since it’s Military Adviser Hua’s orders, Old Liang will certainly comply. Guaranteed to escort this Qi Mu, Hao Dali, and Ba Yunfei back to the Andu jail, heads and all.”

The man spoke with the accent of someone born and raised locally — reminiscent of the modern Shaanxi dialect — carrying an innate air of earthy humor that made Lin Sui’an feel like she was listening to a comedy performance.

Hua Yitang nodded. “Much appreciated, Constable Gu. I wonder, how is Prefect Jia’s injury coming along?”

Gu Liang: “Right well! Already up and about, eating well and sleeping well — put on another ring of weight.”

Hua Yitang: “……”

Lin Sui’an: “Pfft.”

Gu Liang grinned at Lin Sui’an, cupped his fists in a bow, and went out the door, hollering at his team of patrolmen as he left.

With the official business concluded, Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang went to the East Garden to visit He Sishan.

The Qi Mu case had dealt Academy Head He a severe blow. His wounds, which had been around seventy to eighty percent healed, relapsed once more — he burned with fever for an entire day and night, enraging Fang Ke to the point of cursing Qi Mu for half the night. When daylight came, the fever finally broke, but he had grieved so deeply that his spirits remained low.

Over the following days, Yuan Hua and the students took turns attending to him. With Hua Yifeng’s company and encouragement, He Sishan’s mood gradually improved. Fang Ke was thoroughly unsparing in dispatching Mu Xia to purchase all manner of precious medicinal ingredients to send up the mountain. The taste of He Sishan’s medicine decoctions grew increasingly indescribable, and Lin Sui’an suspected Fang Ke might be missing Ita’s hellish-flavored smoked tea.

Bai Ruyi and Hua Yifeng had been at Sanhé Academy far too long — the Imperial Book Office had already sent two urging letters. Hua Yifeng, relying on the Hua family’s relationship with the Emperor, simply wrote a letter requesting a long leave of absence and planned to remain at Sanhé Academy indefinitely. Bai Ruyi dared not do the same, and could only hurry to complete the lecture curriculum and return to the Eastern Capital to report.

On the day when everyone prepared to depart Sanhé Academy, small snowflakes drifted down from the sky once more.

He Sishan sat inside Sanhé Pavilion, gazing at the snow-draped Sanhé Peak, thinking back to half a month earlier when he and Qi Mu had come together to welcome the Imperial Book Office’s book-donation procession. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Hua Yifeng, full of tender concern, helped He Sishan settle his cloak around his shoulders. He Sishan withdrew from his reverie and gazed deeply at Hua Yifeng, smiling.

Hua Yitang cradled his hand warmer and sighed, wrinkling his nose. “Out of the thousand upon thousand brilliant young men in the Tang Kingdom, Second Sister had to set her heart on this particular old man. Alas — how on earth am I supposed to explain this to Elder Brother when we get back—”

Fang Ke nudged Hua Yitang. “Deal with your own situation first.”

Hua Yitang’s gaze shifted, and only then did he notice that Bai Ruyi had taken advantage of his inattention to quietly pull Lin Sui’an aside for a private word. The fox fur on his cloak bristled. He hitched up his robe and dashed over.

Bai Ruyi looked at Lin Sui’an with an expression of deep, reluctant parting — tears practically brimming in his eyes — holding out that scroll of “betrothal poetry” with both hands. “Lin Niangzi, please, you must accept it…”

Lin Sui’an was sweating. “That — that doesn’t seem appropriate —”

“In truth — that night, before Academy Head He fell from the cliff — Bai had gone to the Stargazing Terrace precisely to ask Academy Head He to read the stars and tell Bai what fate Bai and Lin Niangzi might share —” Bai Ruyi gave a small sniff. “At that time, Academy Head He told me that according to the stars, Bai and Lin Niangzi share only the bond of friendship, nothing more… Heartbroken, Bai went to the Imperial Book Tower and wrote all these poems…”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

She hadn’t expected the Stargazing Terrace to have that hidden subplot.

Hua Yitang, listening nearby, felt thoroughly satisfied, and tossed He Sishan a glance: Old He, well done!

He Sishan gave a slight nod and a smile: Fourth Brother is family. He would naturally not act against his own people.

Hua Yitang gave him a thumbs up: Old He, you will be my dearest brother-in-law from now on!

He Sishan and Hua Yifeng nearly broke into audible laughter.

“So Bai — Bai…” Bai Ruyi hurriedly swiped his sleeve across his eyes, then raised his head — eyes bright and clear from being washed by tears. “These poems Bai gifts to his good friend Lin Sui’an, merely to express admiration and respect. Nothing more. Lin Niangzi must not decline!”

With things put this plainly, pushing back any further would truly be unreasonable. Lin Sui’an solemnly accepted the scroll. “Many thanks, Thirteenth Young Master Bai — Lin accepts!”

Bai Ruyi smiled through reddened eyes, like a spot of remaining crimson plum blossoms in the snow.

Hua Yitang’s expression looked as though a jug of aged vinegar had been poured over him — even his very hair seemed to be fizzing with sour bubbles — yet all he could do was force himself to maintain a wastrel’s composure and keep smiling.

“Lin Niangzi, I also have a poem to offer!”

Suddenly, a student blushed crimson and squeezed forward, unfurling a scroll with a snap and reading aloud: “Gallant and spirited, blade-sharp and magnificent — martial spirit and bearing enough to shake mountains and rivers!”

Lin Sui’an: Oh?

The sour bubbles atop Hua Yitang’s head popped with a burst.

“I have one as well, expressing only my admiration for Lin Niangzi.” Another student jumped forward, ears flushing red. “A beauty’s brilliance covers mountain and sea — the wind of the east blows praise for the heroic woman!”

And then, more than thirty students jostled and scrambled forward all at once, each calling out louder than the last, faces flushing redder and redder, like a tree full of ripe red apples clustered together.

“Of all the remarkable men in the world, none compare to a single gleam of Qian Jing’s light.”

“The jade blade mirrors the snowy peaks, ten thousand birds sing among the red-adorned.”

“Black robes like ink shaking heaven and earth, Qian Jing appears and splits the vault of sky.”

“One blade, one person, roaming the jianghu — victories and defeats laughed off in a single tale.”

Hua Yitang’s fingernails nearly scratched gouges in the hand warmer. Yet all of these students, though their eyes held unmistakable feeling and their faces were flushed and flustered, insisted with their mouths that these poems were merely tokens of admiration and respect, carrying no romantic meaning — and with no “love poem” to point to, he had no grounds to stop them. He could only suppress the churning sea of vinegar in his heart, letting the sour bubbles fizz and burst atop his head into a fireworks display.

Most frustrating of all: while he stood here stewing in jealousy to the heavens, Lin Sui’an on the other side was completely bewildered.

Lin Sui’an was pelted by this great avalanche of flattery until her eyes saw stars, her ears and brain simultaneously crashing. Her poetry-deficient brain cells translated almost everything into “jabbering gibberish, jabber jabber jabber,” and she hurried to stop them: “Lin is grateful for everyone’s kind intentions, but — there’s truly no need, really no need! Lin really cannot accept such things!”

“Lin Niangzi, you are mistaken,” Yuan Hua stepped forward and bowed respectfully. “Lin Niangzi risked her own life without heed for her own safety to save Academy Head He. For that single act of grace, you deserve no less.”

Lin Sui’an: “Yuan Hua, you’re not about to gift a poem too, are you?”

Yuan Hua patted his scorching hot cheeks, produced a scroll from inside his robe, unrolled it, and read out each word with deliberate care: “Plain clothes, a heart red as cinnabar — Qian Jing’s jade shocks the heavens — discerning eyes see through treachery — none through the ages have seen the like of this war-breaker!”

“Excellent!” All the students broke into unified applause.

Lin Sui’an froze. She had caught one word: “war-breaker.”

“Yuan Hua!” He Sishan barked sharply. “Watch your tongue!”

Yuan Hua was startled by the shout, and hastily bowed with clasped fists. “Academy Head — did — did this disciple write something wrong in the poem?”

He Sishan opened his mouth, then shook his head, saying nothing.

Bai Ruyi seemed to come to a realization. “Academy Head He must have thought of the name ‘Millennium War-Breaker’ and found it inappropriate.”

This time, not only Lin Sui’an and the assembled students — even Hua Yitang, Hua Yifeng, and the others had never heard this before.

He Sishan’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening.

“Given the ages of those present, it is not surprising you would not know this,” Bai Ruyi said. “Bai only came to know of it through reading old year chronicles and historical records in the Bai Family archive. More than thirty years ago, the Tang Kingdom once had a female general who shook the entire world — undefeated in battle, unconquerable in attack, considered the foremost martial practitioner in all of Tang. The common people revered her as a war deity. Emperor Xuanlong once personally bestowed upon her the title ‘Millennium War-Breaker.’ For reasons unknown, however, this female general suddenly vanished from all sight and sound, and her whereabouts became unknown.”

Lin Sui’an and Hua Yitang exchanged a glance: The divine war goddess in the woodblock prints from Yi City!

“These are old matters from long ago. There is no need to speak of them further.” He Sishan gave a heavy sigh. “The hour is not early. Scholar Bai, Military Adviser Hua, Lin Niangzi — it is time for you to set out.”

Bai Ruyi gazed at Lin Sui’an with misty, lingering eyes. “Lin Niangzi, take good care. If opportunity arises in the future, come to the Eastern Capital —”

“Farewell!” Hua Yitang yanked Lin Sui’an and bolted. Lin Sui’an struggled to look back and wave. “Thirteenth Young Master Bai, take care of yourself too — hey, Hua Yitang, you’re going to be the death of me—”

“Nature calls! Cannot wait!”

He Sishan watched the two carriages depart, told everyone to ascend the mountain and return to the Academy, asked Hua Yifeng to go rest first, and went alone to the Imperial Book Tower’s secure archive chamber.

The secure archive stored many rare editions, accessible only by the Academy Head’s personal order. In all these years, apart from He Sishan and Bai Wen, only Qi Mu had ever entered.

He Sishan opened the hidden compartment in the floor, retrieved a cloth bundle, and unwrapped it layer by layer — inside the cloth was a layer of oilcloth, inside that a layer of sheepskin, inside the sheepskin a layer of yellow grease-proof paper, inside that a layer of white rice paper. Wrapped within the white rice paper was a yellowed scroll, its cover bearing the inscription: “Zhan Ma Blade Technique.”

He Sishan did not open the scroll. He did not even dare extend a hand to touch it. He simply looked at it, the grief in his eyes nearly overflowing.

But at that very moment, in the silent archive chamber, a voice suddenly spoke: “I would never have thought that after all these years, you still keep this blade technique. Truly faithful.”

He Sishan changed color with shock, rapidly snatched up the scroll, wrapped it, and clutched it to his chest. “Who is there?!”

From the darkness stepped a figure — black robes, black boots, face covered by a silver mask with only narrow slits for the eyes, nose, and mouth to breathe through. Beneath the left eye was a scratch, like a tear.

“Who are you?! What business brings you to Sanhé Academy?!” He Sishan shouted.

The silver mask tilted its head slightly. “People in the jianghu call me Yun Zhong Yue.”

The veins at He Sishan’s temples stood out. “Sanhé Academy has nothing of value!”

“When I came in, I saw four characters carved on the stone archway: ‘Three-People Grain Mountain,'” Yun Zhong Yue’s voice carried a smile. “He Sishan — you have quite the nerve. To carve her surname so openly and conspicuously on the Academy’s front gate.”

He Sishan’s expression grew increasingly uncertain. “You are not here to steal!”

Yun Zhong Yue pulled a cloth pouch from his robe and tossed it to He Sishan. He Sishan opened it — inside the pouch was an old military canteen. On the copper nozzle of the canteen was carved a totem in the shape of a beast.

Blood-red threads instantly spread through He Sishan’s eyes. He nearly screamed the words: “How do you have this canteen?! Who on earth are you?!”

Yun Zhong Yue looked silently at He Sishan for a long moment, then raised a hand and gently removed the silver mask from his face.

He Sishan’s tears rushed forth like a flooding river. He fell heavily to his knees, face pressed to the floor, sobbing without restraint.

Epilogue Skit:

Lin Sui’an was somewhat troubled. The poems the Academy students had gifted were all elaborately mounted and framed — more than thirty scrolls in total, filling more than half the carriage. Such a great pile of them — where would she put them all when she got back?

“Hanging all of these on the wall — isn’t that a bit too showy?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Hua Yitang’s temples pulsed as a vein threatened to burst, but his expression management remained flawless. He smiled pleasantly. “Such precious gifts naturally ought to be placed in the Hua family’s treasure vault, under strict safekeeping!”

“Good idea.” Lin Sui’an was quite satisfied. She fished out the one Bai Ruyi had given, unrolled it, looked it over, and was even more satisfied. “I like this one the most. Let’s hang it by the head of my bed.”

Three more veins in Hua Yitang’s temples snapped in succession. “The calligraphy is mediocre, the poetry is mediocre, the man is mediocre. Don’t hang it.”

Lin Sui’an: “After all, this is the first time anyone has ever written a poem for me with such care. It deserves to be commemorated.”

Hua Yitang’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. Mu Xia, driving the carriage, nearly coughed up blood.

Fang Ke observed quietly as Hua Yitang clawed the wooden box beside him into a twisted mess. If memory served him right, there was also a scroll inside it. When Mu Xia had been secretly mounting it, Fang Ke had caught a glimpse by chance — it appeared to be a betrothal poem written by Hua Yitang, from back when they had been in Yidu…

Fang Ke could not bear to look at Hua Yitang’s expression any longer. He quietly closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

The road ahead is long. Hang in there, Fourth Young Master.