The dark clouds that had blanketed the northern lands finally dispersed. The rainy season in Huozhou drew to a close, and early summer crept quietly in.
The sky had begun to pale, though sunrise was still half a shichen away.
The entire city of Mu Er He remained sunk in the revelry of the previous night, not yet roused to wakefulness. Even the usually clamorous birds seemed sluggish, and every street in every direction lay perfectly still.
At the back gate of Wangchen Tower’s rear courtyard, a figure slipped out from the inner compound, a cloak concealing both form and face. The long-disused gate hinge let out a piercing creak. The figure froze, glanced left and right to confirm no one was about, then boarded a carriage that had been waiting in the back alley since early morning and set off toward the city’s northern gate.
The rumbling of the carriage wheels gradually faded into the distance, and then the back gate stirred once more.
Four or five shadows filed out in succession, boarded another carriage parked at the street corner, and followed after the first.
At the northern city gate, several guards were rubbing their hands together as they prepared to change shifts. Having endured a full night’s watch and barely made it to this last stretch before sunrise, they were utterly exhausted — every one of them longing to hand off their post and return to rest.
From far down the street came a faint commotion — a carriage, of all things.
The gate would not open for some time yet, but the guard captain took one look and ordered the side door opened.
The old manservant driving the carriage swiftly passed over a heavy ingot of silver, then drove the carriage out through the gate.
The other guards had long since grown accustomed to such things. They stepped forward and pulled the gate shut again.
But at that very moment, yet another carriage appeared at the far end of the street, also heading straight for the gate.
The guard captain’s patience wore thin, and he ordered his men to stop it.
“The hour has not come. No one may leave the city.”
The young servant driving the carriage lifted his wide-brimmed hat a little, revealing a round, chubby face. “Elder brother, did you not just let the one ahead of me through? Do a fellow a kindness — it’s less than half a shichen to opening time anyway.”
The guard’s tone turned faintly contemptuous. “The one ahead of you? That was Master Zou of the Zou Family, going out to take stock of his estate beyond the city — he cannot afford delays. He arranged this well in advance. And who exactly are you, appearing out of nowhere? Do you think we guards run such a lax operation?”
A guard nearby noticed that although the carriage was not ostentatious, a closer look revealed it was no ordinary conveyance — not the kind a common household could afford. Fearing they might give offense, he tried to smooth things over. “Since the gate opens in less than half a shichen, why don’t you all just wait a little while.”
“We can wait perfectly well. The question is whether Master Zou can.”
A voice drifted out from within the carriage — unhurried, a single light remark, yet in the cold stillness of that predawn gate it rang out with extraordinary clarity.
The guards all startled for a moment, and even the young servant driving the carriage gave a slight jolt of surprise.
Then the voice sounded again: “I am a steward from the Zou Mansion. The master left in haste this morning and forgot an important seal. I noticed only after he had gone and set out to catch up with him — if I am too late, it may cause serious trouble. The master did not publicize this journey, which is why my young servant failed to announce us properly. I beg the officers’ pardon.”
The guards heard this and felt not quite convinced.
As though sensing their doubt, a corner of the curtain was lifted, and half a figure leaned into view, cradling a box in both hands. Inside, resting squarely and neatly, lay a seal — flawlessly white and of exquisite craftsmanship.
The guard captain stepped forward and examined it carefully. He could see that the side of the seal appeared to be engraved with some characters, but they looked like scrawlings of an immortal — he himself could barely read, and made nothing of them.
When he raised his head again to look at the person holding the seal, the person was smiling gently at him. How to describe that smile? It gave one an inexplicable sense of benevolence and good nature, though the person appeared to be no more than twenty-some years of age.
The guard quietly stepped back a little, then beckoned the young servant over and murmured a few words in his ear. The servant swiftly pressed a piece of silver into the palm of that person’s hand — the motion quite concealed — and the guard immediately waved his hand, signaling his men to open the gate.
The young servant driving the carriage seemed not to have expected things to go so smoothly. His face broke into a look of delighted surprise, and he called out his thanks repeatedly as he urged the carriage hastily through the gate.
Beyond the gate, the stone-paved road gave way to dirt, and the horses ran all the more freely. Bolao flung off the wide-brimmed servant’s hat that had been covering his head, revealing two thick, jet-black eyebrows, and cursed in exasperation.
“A bunch of silver-hungry good-for-nothings! If you want money, just come out and say so — all that dithering dragged on so long that now there’s not even a whiff of Zou Sifang left to chase!”
Inside the carriage, Xiao Nanhui was growing anxious as well. “Drive faster. If it comes to it, unload the carriage and let me ride ahead.”
Zhongli Jing sat closest to the carriage door, toying in his hand with the white jade seal he had used in the performance just now. “No rush. For five li out of the city, there is only this one road. He had the wheels rigged to muffle the sound — which also means the carriage cannot go fast. We can catch up before the fork in the road.”
Xiao Nanhui glanced at him, and for the first time felt: it seems that being born with a fine face really does have its uses.
Hao Bai sat furthest inside the carriage, squeezed in alongside Ding Weixiang. On hearing this, he could not help but offer his admiration aloud. “Zhongli Jing, you truly are remarkable — whatever the situation, you never lose your composure. Even just now at the city gate, I was nearly certain we would not make it through.”
It would have been better had he not spoken, for the moment he did, Xiao Nanhui was reminded of last night’s events. She had once thought this physician was a straightforward man — little had she imagined he too was the kind who kept things concealed.
“There is no need for false modesty from Mister Qu. This one trip of yours secured a business deal and settled a family matter both — quite impressive indeed.”
Hao Bai heard the dissatisfaction in her words and blinked with an air of complete innocence. “Is Yao still blaming me for not being forthright? You must understand, I did not come here of my own will — the weight of family obligation left me no choice.”
Everyone had their own difficulties, and Xiao Nanhui was no exception herself. She had no real standing to reproach others, and her manner softened a little. “You were pursuing a fugitive — so why were you so intent on the matter of the jade seal as well?”
“To speak plainly, verifying whether the rumors about that jade seal are true or false was also one of the tasks the clan elders entrusted to me. They said the stakes were grave, and instructed me to investigate and report back with all speed.”
After saying this, Hao Bai stole a sideways glance at Zhongli Jing. The other man was studying his nose with his eyes, his nose with his heart, seemingly without the slightest interest in anything Hao Bai might say. That gave Hao Bai a sudden sense of aggrievement, and he pursed his lips and added, “I imagine they feared it might fall into the hands of some villain and bring harm upon the common people.”
Zhongli Jing actually opened his eyes at this and looked at him for a moment — but still said not a single word.
Meanwhile Xiao Nanhui, hearing this, had her thoughts elsewhere entirely, and she probed carefully: “You say the stakes are grave — grave in precisely what way?”
Hao Bai gave her a slightly puzzled look. “The Imperial Jade Seal — is that not grave enough?”
Xiao Nanhui faltered. “Naturally it is. What I mean is, beyond that — is there perhaps some other secret within this seal?”
Hao Bai shifted his gaze away. “I have not heard of any such thing. Perhaps because I am of the younger generation in the family, there are matters I have no right to know.”
Watching him begin to deflect, Xiao Nanhui could only let it go, though her heart still itched terribly with curiosity.
She had always felt that the matter of the secret seal could not be so simple. If what the histories recorded were true, why had Emperor Niexuan sent a princess alone to escort this single jade seal — and why had the princess in the end chosen to sink to the bottom of a lake rather than surrender it?
And then there was the annihilation of the Xiao Family—
“We’ve caught up!”
Bolao’s voice reached them from the front of the carriage, cutting off Xiao Nanhui’s train of thought.
The carriage lurched sharply to one side, and jolting followed immediately. They had turned off at a fork onto a smaller road.
Ding Weixiang, sitting near the window, lifted the curtain a crack and looked out, his expression growing somewhat grave. “What is Zou Sifang doing in the marshlands?”
Xiao Nanhui stiffened, and looked out as well.
Beyond the carriage window stretched a vast expanse of dull grey. Not far off, the morning sun had already risen, yet its light could not pierce the mist that lingered over the land.
The wind carried the smell of damp rot — the distinctive scent of the northern marshes.
Thirty li beyond Mu Er He city lay the edge of the marshlands. From that point onward, there were no proper roads — only the faint ruts left by occasional travelers, from which one could barely discern a path. Where the marshlands began, stone steles had been erected to warn ordinary wayfarers: beyond this point lay treacherous bog, and without a guide the danger was extreme.
Yet for Zou Sifang, none of this merited the slightest concern.
He had walked this northern marshland road for many years — it was as familiar to him as the entrance to his own home.
In the past he had ventured into the marshlands several times a month, to inspect what quality of goods the Xiong family had gathered that month. Now that he was getting on in years, he had handed such matters over to those below him, and came only once every two or three months, staying no more than two or three days at a time — any longer and the damp would seep into his bones, and his joints would ache beyond endurance.
Thinking this, he instinctively pulled the hand warmer in his arms closer.
This recent serious illness had left him feeling that his health was far worse than before. And he still had no son or daughter to speak of. If he could not keep a firm grip on this business, it would sooner or later fall into the hands of the Xiong family. The only solution he could think of, after much deliberation, was to buy out Xiong Shi’s land entirely.
But buying that land would require no small sum of silver — and Xiong Shi was no fool and would certainly not yield easily.
Fortunately, he would soon have the means to assemble that sum.
Zou Sifang lifted the curtain and glanced at the sky, then asked casually, “Nearly there?”
The coachman was an old servant who had followed Zou Sifang for nearly twenty years. Knowing the master had important affairs today, he dared not be careless. “Less than a li to go now. Today we took the old shortcut, but some areas flooded badly in the recent rain and we were held up a little.”
Zou Sifang murmured a low acknowledgment, indicating he understood. He gazed at the box in his hands, and the unease that had stirred since leaving the city welled up in him again.
But he had deliberately chosen Xiong family territory to negotiate this deal — that was a precaution he had taken. Even for the sake of the silver and gold, the Xiong family would surely lend him some support in the moments to come.
This was his territory. Who in the world knew it better than he did?
Thinking thus, Zou Sifang’s heart settled back down in his chest.
Deep within the gloomy marshland lay a stretch of flat ground nearly a hundred mu in area, upon which sat a compound built on a foundation of pine timber and rammed earth — high walls, small windows, rarely a human sound. This was the Xiong family’s old manor.
Any wandering soul who stumbled upon it without knowing its nature might well have taken this house in the wilderness for a haunted dwelling.
Zou Sifang’s carriage rolled through the manor’s front gate, yet no other carriage or horse was to be seen.
The courtyard was empty, not a soul in sight. Through the morning mist one could make out only a white lantern hanging beneath the central window of the building ahead — seemingly lit the night before and not yet extinguished.
Zou Sifang instructed his old servant to wait outside the main gate, then carried his box and walked slowly toward the building.
The ground underfoot was laid with smooth river stones, and each step produced a crisp crunching sound.
River stones were not native to this area — Zou Sifang had spent silver to have them hauled in from elsewhere and laid here to deter herb thieves. After all, this was where Xiong Shi stored medicinal ingredients, and in such a remote wilderness it was inevitable that people would take an interest.
Zou Sifang stopped about ten paces from the building.
He could already see the door-god paintings pasted on the wooden door. The Xiong family’s people should have heard him by now, yet still no one came out to receive him.
Could it be—
Zou Sifang’s heart began to beat a little faster. He was on the verge of turning back, when that wooden door suddenly creaked open halfway, and a half-bald old man poked his head out.
It was the Xiong family’s steward.
Zou Sifang exhaled in relief, then felt a trace of dissatisfaction. “The buyer will be here any moment — how is it that you haven’t sent even one person out to greet me?”
The steward’s eyes had a somewhat vacant look. He hemmed and hawed for a moment before saying, “The person is already inside waiting for the master.”
Zou Sifang was taken aback — he had not expected the other party to arrive before the appointed time.
Growing impatient, he quickened his steps to the door and yanked the old man aside, about to enter.
His left leg had barely crossed the threshold when it stopped, suspended in midair.
His gaze locked onto the ground beneath his left foot and could not move. There, a thick, dark, viscous substance was still slowly spreading outward.
It was blood.
Zou Sifang raised his head, stiff with shock. The steward was looking at him with the same rigid expression, his trembling whiskers dotted with several drops of blood.