Memory is a strange thing in the way it forms.

Sometimes you share tea and drinks with a not-very-familiar group of people seven or eight times and still cannot recognize one or two of them on the street.

But if a complete stranger has once hunted you down to kill you — even if they burned to ash, you would know them.

Even if the circumstances at the time were pitch dark and you were fleeing for your life.

This was how Xiao Nanhui’s memory was roused.

When she had been in Mu Er He, she and Bolao had gone on a night mission to the Zou Mansion. Upon entering, they ran into the household guards in pursuit, and after several rounds of twists and turns had narrowly avoided disaster. The guard captain leading the pursuit had been very thorough in his duties — chasing her through three or four gates and five or six courtyards.

Yet at the time she could never have imagined that more than a year later, she would encounter him again in a decrepit inn at Dafen Crossing.

The big man dressed as a herdsman clearly did not know where he had given himself away. And the others who were lying in ambush with him were even less aware.

Their reason for drawing their blades was only that the green-clad swordsman who had been about to head upstairs had drawn his blade first.

And in truth, Ding Weixiang had only drawn his blade. Had he wanted to act, there might not even be this standoff playing out now.

That he had not chosen to strike in that first moment — it could be surmised — was because he had already judged that among the people gathered in the inn, there was no one of genuine skill.

Thinking of this, Xiao Nanhui’s posture unconsciously relaxed.

She faced the big man directly and asked him point-blank.

“Are you from the Zou Mansion? Why are you here? Where are the others?”

The big man had not expected to be exposed on the spot, and while his face showed one thing, what came out of his mouth was entirely another.

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

Xiao Nanhui smiled.

It appeared that the Zou Household had done more than a little killing and robbing over the years. This guard captain had clearly been hunting down so many people in the past that he no longer remembered a “small thief” like her.

Yet before she could take a single step forward to introduce herself, the man who had been silent at her side suddenly spoke.

“Since you have guests in attendance, why does the host not yet show himself?”

Oh? These words did not seem directed at the people before them — so there was indeed someone who had known all along that they would come, who even knew this inn was someone’s regular lodging, and had come here early to wait in ambush.

The inn fell silent. A draft blew through, knocking over a broken door panel.

The panel swung back and forth on its fragile hinges with creaking protests, and a cold wind loaded with fine rain and dust gusted in all at once, stinging the eyes of everyone present.

Yet under these circumstances, who dared actually close their eyes? So everyone forced themselves to keep their eyes as wide open as they could, terrified that one blink might cost them the advantage of striking first.

Of course, “everyone” did not include him.

He had stood with his back to the door from beginning to end. After waiting a while with no response, he made as though to step onto the first stair leading to the second floor.

Just as he had nearly taken that step, with a bang, the familiar door of Room Number One — the Heaven’s character room — was pushed open, and a fair-faced young lad walked out.

The young lad was clearly of Chizhou stock in his looks — delicate features tinged with a hint of brooding — yet the clothes he wore were brilliant and strange. A felt hat on his head, long boots on his feet, his skirts adorned with colorful dyed patterns and animal teeth, a snakeskin soft whip coiled at his waist, the tip of the whip stained dark red — carrying a vicious air entirely at odds with the bearer’s looks and manner.

The young lad looked down from his elevated position, studying the three uninvited guests in the inn with deliberation, and after much consideration settled his gaze on the knife-wielding Ding Weixiang.

“Are you the remarkable person my grandmother told me to wait for?”

Xiao Nanhui slowly looked at Ding Weixiang, who was indeed the most formidable-looking of everyone present, with the most striking blade in sight.

The poor attendant, thrust into the center of attention, slowly looked back at his own master — who showed no intention of opening his mouth to clear up the misunderstanding. So he had no choice but to keep his chin up and play along.

“May I ask what person the young sir is waiting for?”

The young lad put a hand on the railing and vaulted clean over it from the second-floor balcony, landing on top of a table with both boots, sending the wine vessels and bowls clattering loudly.

Xiao Nanhui raised an eyebrow.

What flashy, sloppy lightness technique.

“Why should I answer just because you ask?”

She could not help it — a laugh escaped her.

The so-called young sir who had just been laughed at was instantly incensed.

“What is there to laugh at?!”

Xiao Nanhui composed her expression; the resulting look of forced solemnity was even more insufferable.

“If you won’t answer, then you won’t. Who is interested in knowing?”

The man beside her spoke with the calm surface of still water, but his words were fuel on the fire.

“Since the honored sir does not know who he is waiting for, perhaps he would like to think it over here — and we will find lodging elsewhere.”

With that, the three of them turned in unison, not dignifying the Heaven’s character room’s guest with a second glance, and headed straight for the door.

“How — how dare you! I haven’t finished speaking, where do you think you’re going —”

There was a rush of air from behind, and Xiao Nanhui instinctively dodged to one side. A blood-red lash cracked like lightning beside her ear — less than an inch from her face, less than half a foot from the back of his neck.

In that instant, she noticed that the tip of the soft whip was not a uniform red, but was covered in many dense, tiny, strange characters — so that only from a distance did it look like one continuous color.

What was strange about this weapon she could not say. She only knew that she herself was thick-skinned enough that taking a hit might not matter much — but if it struck that man instead —

Presumption upon leniency — roughly that.

Before Ding Weixiang could make his move, she had already seized the tip of the whip in one hand, then yanked — and the young lad was pulled up close.

The other party was clearly startled, but the greater part of his reaction was the humiliated fury of having his weakness exploited.

“Let go!”

She gave a cold laugh and tightened her grip on the whip.

The man beside her said quietly.

“It’s fine. Let go.”

Only then did she release it. The young lad, who had been straining against her pull, staggered back several steps the moment she let go and sat down squarely on top of one of the big men.

There is nothing more shameful than one’s own master being bested so easily, and in front of enemies at that.

Xiao Nanhui thought the most embarrassed people in the inn right now had to be that entire roomful of big men frozen in their blade-drawn poses.

Their blades had not been put away, and they did not know where to look — so they could only glare ferociously at the inn floor and the proprietor still under the table.

The young lad was truly angry this time. The animal teeth all over him were shaking with indignation.

“Do you know who I am?!”

Xiao Nanhui dug a finger in her ear, and before she could even get two mocking words out, the man behind her spoke.

“I know.”

The one person in the entire inn who was not carrying a weapon walked directly toward the young lad.

His footsteps were light, his movements slow, his manner of speaking gentle — but if you met his eyes, you would know they were eyes like a deep abyss, cold as distant stars.

A person with eyes like these has no need of weapons.

“The night grows late; every moment of delay only adds to our weariness. It would be better to set out early. Or has the Shen Family fallen to such a state that you cannot even arrange a boat?”

The Shen Family?

Xiao Nanhui froze.

This leaping, chattering, excitable little brat before her was actually a member of the Shen Family of Huozhou?

The young lad was also taken aback, seemingly weighing whether the situation had helped him recover some face — or made things considerably worse.

After a long moment, he stood up, his expression reverting to the nonchalance of his entrance — a careless bearing with a thread of stubborn defiance running through it.

“If you say something you shouldn’t in front of my grandmother, I’ll have you thrown into the river to feed the fish!”

Naturally, even he seemed to know this threat carried no real menace — and before the words had even settled, he had already walked out of the inn.

The rain had stopped outside. The wind was still blowing. The enormous herd of cattle and sheep that had been blocking the road half an hour before had barely moved from their spot. Those languid, docile creatures swayed their tails in the wet heat, half-dozing, and some had already begun drifting into the stables to steal grain from the troughs.

The young lad saw this, raised his soft whip, and gave it a single light crack in the air. With a sound sharp as a thunderclap, the entire herd of cattle and sheep jolted awake at once — and then, as though pushed apart by an invisible wall, jostled and pressed against each other to move to either side, carving out a clear path down the middle.

Xiao Nanhui watched this with fascination.

His fighting skills left something to be desired — but his ability to manage livestock was genuinely impressive.

The several herdsmen in the distance with their bored expressions straightened at the crack of the whip and saluted respectfully. Only then did she finally understand the full picture of tonight’s situation.

Whether it was the herd of cattle and sheep blocking the road, or the ambush laid in the inn ahead of time — all of it had been arranged to keep them stranded in Yueyuan Town.

There was no boat leaving Dafen Crossing tonight. If they wanted to leave this place, the only way was to set foot on his Shen Family’s deck.

Yet looking at the ground littered with cattle dung and sheep droppings, Xiao Nanhui’s expression turned complicated.

What should have been an elegant trap, a “please walk into the parlor” scheme, had been fumbled into a complete farce by a dim-witted little brat. Truly a pity.

The young lad nearby was none the wiser. He had put away his whip, and seemed to have forgotten about the humiliation he had suffered earlier. He was eyeing the three of them the same way he eyed his cattle and sheep.

“Are you going or not? Do you need me to personally invite you?”

Xiao Nanhui knew they had no choice but to go — yet her mouth still refused to let the other party off the hook.

“You half-grown little imp — exactly where are you taking us?”

The young lad wheeled around in exasperation, the whip that had just been wound back at his waist already itching to come out again. He restrained himself with considerable effort, and threw down a single line.

“My surname is Shen. My name is Shen Linlin. As for where you’re going — once you’re on the boat, you’ll know.”

June’s Hunhe River ran full and swift, rushing eastward with urgency, nearly merging with the dark violet line of the horizon.

Tonight’s moon was enormous and alarming — hanging low beneath the vault of the sky, as though it needed only a fraction more weight to plunge into the rolling river below.

The pointed prow cut through the murky water, like passing between the shores of the underworld itself.

Everyone on the boat sat bolt upright, faces grave, as though heading to a midnight banquet hosted by the King of Hell and his demons.

The less anyone spoke, the quieter it became; the quieter it became, the less anyone was willing to speak first.

This is how dead silence comes into being.

Of everyone on the entire boat, the one with the greatest skill at playing dead in silence was the Emperor, without contest. Next was Ding Weixiang. After him came the group of big men from the inn, and after them perhaps the Shen Family young lad. And last of all —

Xiao Nanhui cleared her throat.

She had been suppressing herself to the point of agony, had nearly drained an entire pot of tea from the bamboo table before her, and now at last had an excuse to open her mouth.

“Excuse me, is there any more tea?”

Still no one on the boat answered.

The man sitting across from her finally opened his eyes, his voice still even and mild.

“When traveling away from home, there’s no need to stand on ceremony — don’t make it awkward for the hosts.”

The moment these words fell, the young lad who had been sitting at the prow instantly could not keep his seat.

“It’s just a pot of worthless tea — who said we weren’t giving you any?! Where’s the tea? Bring her tea!”

The rapid sound of footsteps came from the deck, approaching from a distance, and a pot of steaming tea appeared before her in an instant.

Indeed, when it came to the art of saying things that cut straight to the heart — she was far behind.

Xiao Nanhui sighed inwardly and was just about to pick up the teapot when her gaze landed on the face of the middle-aged woman who had brought the tea.

If running into the guard captain from the Zou Mansion at the inn could be called a coincidence, then encountering the mistress of the Zou Household on this boat could in no way be called an accident.

Zhao Ximei’s brows were drooping — not a trace of the arrogance she had once worn. The practiced ease with which she withdrew and stepped back left Xiao Nanhui craning her neck to stare for quite some time.

Shen Linlin noticed her gaze and gave a cold snort.

“A stray dog fallen on hard times — what is there to look at?”

Eight short words, and her suspicion was instantly confirmed.

The sudden disappearance of the Zou Mansion had indeed been the Shen Family’s doing.

She had once sent a letter that received no reply and had known something was amiss.

Had she never been to Mu Er He herself — never gotten lost within that Zou Mansion — perhaps she could have convinced herself of some story about moving house. But she had seen with her own eyes how large the Zou estate was. A household like that could not simply vanish without a trace.

If enemies had come and slaughtered the whole family — what enemy would be so thorough: killing everyone and then clearing the scene, removing all the bodies, as though nothing had happened?

If they had caught wind of something and the entire household had fled — that seemed plausible on the surface but was actually even more baffling. The Zou Mansion had at least one or two hundred people in it. Even if the servants were all dismissed and only the household members kept, just packing up valuables would take ten or fifteen days and require ten or more chests — so how could they vanish overnight from the city in full view of everyone?

But if someone had helped from the outside, it would be an entirely different matter.

And whoever had intervened must have held power greater than the Zou Family — enough to stand firm even within Huozhou.

“You are the ones who took the Zou Family?”

“Took?” The young lad glanced at her, apparently quite displeased with her word choice, a note of disdain in his tone. “The Zou and Xiong Families have spent these years in Mu Er He drinking up plenty of fat gains. They are nothing but overfed yellow sheep — raise them fat enough, and naturally you slaughter them. If you let them be, they’ll eat the whole grassland bare.”

These words, when spoken, finally gave Shen Linlin something of the bearing of a Shen Family member.

So this was how the Shen clan maintained control over the northern commanderies. Sending clan members to every province to keep watch would be insufficient in manpower and not forceful enough — and the commotion would be too great, likely crossing Tiancheng’s threshold of tolerance. So they chose to let the local clans grow powerful, keeping watch on them openly and in secret all the while. Once a local force swelled to a certain degree, they would seize on some opportune moment to cut the throat and clean out the lot. The common people who had been bled dry would then have some chance to recover and breathe — only for three to five years to pass before new fat sheep emerged, and a new cycle began.

And stepping back ten thousand paces to look at the Shen clan itself, settled comfortably on this fertile land — were they not the fat sheep that the Imperial House kept in the north? Only this fat sheep was a bit more clever-headed, knowing not to let itself grow too plump and robust, lest it no sooner put on autumn weight than it became the flesh and fat that filled the national treasury for winter.

Greed for gain is the root of the downfall of states and the death of lords.

At its core, it was nothing but the art of balance and restraint.

Xiao Nanhui looked up to observe the man beside her. He had clearly known of all the Shen clan’s moves long since — he listened to this news without a ripple on his face.

Or perhaps he had long since known the Shen clan would be waiting for him here, and that the legendary weaver of the cloth was the very person they were about to go and see.

After some time, the water sounds around them slowed and the boat’s speed also eased.

She looked out over the water by the light of the moon, and only then realized the boat had entered an area of open, broad waters. All around were wide stretches of tidal flats and reeds. Narrow-hulled skiffs threaded back and forth through them, busier even than Dafen Crossing’s docks in full daylight.

On both banks of the river rose a continuous expanse of cedar forest. The tall, pointed silhouettes of the trees merged into one mass — like the claws and fangs of some enormous bear.

Dark waters surrounding, cedars forming the forest.

She knew where this was.

“We’ve arrived.” Shen Linlin’s voice carried from the prow, with a thread of urgency. “Get off the boat quickly — don’t delay!”

Xiao Nanhui shot Shen Linlin a look.

He had not seemed the least bit rushed when they set out — what was he in such a hurry about now?

Ding Weixiang was the first off the boat, taking stock of the surroundings, before helping his master down.

Xiao Nanhui followed right behind him, and only upon reaching the edge of the deck did she realize: the boat was less “docked” than it was “run aground.”

There was no gangplank between the boat and the shore. To get off, one had no choice but to step straight into the mud.

Was this unintentional negligence in hosting — or a calculated show of force?

Shen Linlin was still urging from several dozen steps away. Xiao Nanhui had no choice but to hitch up her hem and leap from the boat.

The moment her feet hit the ground, she immediately felt that this stretch of tidal flat was nothing like ordinary river mud — it was loose and fine, more like some kind of sandy rock flat. In the moonlight, she could faintly make out that this entire sandy expanse was a lifeless, matte black, the same as the stretch of water they had passed through.

While she was looking around, a group of trackers passed by hauling ropes, towing empty skiffs and lining them up at a river inlet nearby, where a group of men pushing mud sleds were loading basket after basket of black goods onto boats.

The baskets were roughly as tall as half a person, piled so full they were overflowing, and the men hauling them had both feet sunk into the tidal flat; each man had to stop and pant for several breaths after moving a single one.

Xiao Nanhui paused, and then suddenly understood what the black-flecked rocky flat beneath her feet — and the contents of those baskets — actually were.

So the name “Black Wood” did not actually describe the color of those ancient cedar trees — it referred to a resource particular to this place. The same black substance the Emperor had mentioned earlier in the carriage, the kind mixed into the cloth’s fibers, was the same thing.

Coal.

The sunny mountain is rich in red copper; the shaded mountain is rich in black stone.

Coal had from ancient times been an essential resource for metallurgy and iron-smelting, and metal and iron were the foundation of armies. Was this, then, the reason the Shen clan had been able to sustain itself to the present day? But surely Tiancheng knew — so why had it not been restricted?

In the midst of these thoughts, the group ahead suddenly stopped.

Xiao Nanhui could not understand why — but when she raised her head and looked carefully, she found that the darkness ahead was not simply a stretch of lifeless tidal flat.

If a herd of cattle and horses, however numerous, might still not be counted as a remarkable sight, then what lay before her now was truly something difficult to witness in a lifetime.

She had never seen so many deer.

Reddish and chestnut and golden and dark. Tall and short, heavy and slight. Young and old, male and female.

The only thing they had in common was this: they all stood quietly on the tidal flat, in the night, staring directly at the same spot — at them.

Hundreds upon thousands of deer — why would they all look in the same direction at the same time?

Xiao Nanhui’s amazement was followed by a sense of something unsettling.

Patter, patter, patter.

The sound of hooves splashing through water, and from within the herd of deer a particularly large figure emerged.

It was a full-grown male deer of powerful build. Its great antlers were like a small tree swaying gently with each of its steps. Its coat was a rich reddish-brown all over, with only a ring of white around the muzzle.

The deer lowered its head slowly, and without the antlers blocking the view, Xiao Nanhui could see that there was someone seated on the deer’s back.

It was a slight young woman, dressed almost identically to Shen Linlin — except that there was no whip coiled at her waist. In its place was an enormous bronze bell.

Shen Linlin stepped forward, a thread of impatience in his voice.

“Shen Yangyang! I brought the people — let us through!”