The one who had snapped the sword bare-handed stepped back. He knew this woman was no longer a threat.

His name was Han Shansi. A man who even the Court’s own people found mysterious.

Newcomers to the Court would think the two most mysterious figures in the building were the two Deputy Chief Justices.

One was Elder Ye — rarely ever present, invisible even to veterans, let alone new recruits.

The other was Zhang Tang — ever-present, and yet somehow the new arrivals almost never got a glimpse of him either.

Best not to.

But if you asked the Court’s veterans, including the centurion-grade masters, who they found most mysterious — they would all say Han Shansi.

No one knew where he had come from. The only thing known about him was that he had been personally selected by Prince Ning, Li Chi.

His sole responsibility within the Court was this: ensure Gao Xining’s safety.

He could decline to participate in any Court operation, even if Gao Xining herself asked him to. He could still say no.

The number of people who knew Han Shansi’s true nature could be counted on one hand.

Having neutralized Shang Jiuying, Han Shansi withdrew back into the shadows, like a phantom that had never been there — as though the one who struck was not a man but some spectral creature.

He didn’t even like to speak. His silence suggested that talking, too, lay outside the scope of his duties.

By now Shang Jiuying had understood: everything she had planned, they had planned for too.

It wasn’t that Gao Xining was especially prescient. It was that the Court was strong enough to prepare simultaneously for every contingency.

What she had imagined as her opportunity was only ever her imagination.

—

Xiahou Yuli looked at Gao Xining. “Hurry up and praise me.”

Gao Xining smiled. “Praise is less satisfying than something real. It’s nearly midnight — I’ll go cook you something myself.”

Xiahou Yuli: “And why would you do that to me?”

Gao Xining: “My cooking skills right now—”

She hadn’t finished before Xiahou Yuli was already walking away: “I’m going to tell Mama everything’s alright, give her peace of mind. You eat by yourself.”

“Calling it ‘peace of mind’ — do you mean telling Mama the prisoner’s been caught, or telling Mama you didn’t eat my food?”

“The prisoner being caught,” Xiahou Yuli called back without turning around, “is such a small thing — why bother Mama with it…”

“Sisters sharing hardship?”

“Every one for herself.”

Gao Xining sighed, turned, and looked at Li Chi, who had been standing in the shadows the whole time. If Han Shansi hadn’t moved first, Li Chi would already have stepped in — but in any moment of danger, he never let Gao Xining see him there unless…

The moment she turned and looked for him in the crowd, he silently stepped back — removing himself from view. He wouldn’t even give her the opportunity to call to him. This was hard-won experience from countless battles.

Gao Xining saw him retreating into the darkness and, before he could disappear, sprinted to the flower bed, dug out a clod of dirt, and — in one fluid motion — launched it at Li Chi’s backside just as he vanished.

“Eat my projectile!”

She gave a little huff of satisfaction.

In the distance, Li Chi walked quickly, muttering to himself: “Eat your projectile is fine. Eat your cooking, now THAT would be a disaster…”

There had been a brief period, once, when Gao Xining — under Auntie Wu’s patient tutelage — had managed to get her home cooking to something approximately resembling home cooking.

But she was never satisfied with approximately.

She was, after all, the one and only Gao Xining in all the heavens and earth. To cook without innovating, without creating, without perfecting flavors no one else had ever produced — that, she felt, would make her an unworthy Chief Justice.

Her great gift was that in the process of innovating, she had largely forgotten everything Auntie Wu had taught her.

Director Gao had once offered an assessment, entirely frank — though no one else on earth would have dared be so frank.

He had said: My granddaughter is actually quite remarkable. She has strong gifts in everything — they’re just misaligned.

A person who cooks well makes people happy when they eat it, nourishes them, extends their years.

A person who fights well makes people feel safe — the most fearsome enemy, she can kill.

My granddaughter? She’s simply gotten the two mixed up.

Watch my granddaughter practice martial arts — she’ll make you laugh until your jaw hurts. And laughter, they say, extends one’s years.

Eat my granddaughter’s cooking — whoever eats it wants to die.

If anyone else had said this, there would have been no end of dirt clods coming their way.

Li Chi fled. Xiahou Yuli fled. Gao Xining thought — everyone had been up all night, bellies must be empty.

So she looked around at everyone. Everyone took a step back in unison, then turned and dispersed.

“And here I thought,” Gao Xining said to no one in particular, “that there are so many people willing to share wealth with you, and so few willing to share hardship…”

She resolved to go find something to eat from the Court’s kitchen instead. There was no need to make herself suffer.

She stepped into the kitchen to find Li Chi and the rest of them already seated around a table together…

Gao Xining smiled pleasantly. “Seeing everyone gathered here without waiting for me — I’m not angry. If anything, I feel an urge to add a dish for all of you.”

Xiahou Yuli grabbed Gao Xining and pressed her down into a chair: “We’re all family here. There’s no need to be that ruthless toward family…”

Gao Xining: “Such a rare occasion, all together…”

She waved a hand. “Might as well slaughter a proper reunion feast.”

—

In the interrogation room.

Zhang Tang lifted the curtain and entered, looking at the woman lying prone on the stone bed.

Whatever else could be said — if not for the gory state of this woman’s back, which was rather alarming to look at, her figure alone, despite her small build, had proportions that were without question flawless.

Zhang Tang entered, and a Court officer set a chair behind him.

He sat down, adjusted his robes, and gestured for the physician to continue treating the woman’s wounds.

“I only wanted to ask: what do you intend to offer in exchange for a little more time alive?”

Shang Jiuying was silent.

Zhang Tang was in no hurry. He simply sat and watched her quietly.

After a long while, Shang Jiuying exhaled slowly. “How long did the two of them last?”

Zhang Tang answered: “Two days.”

Then he asked: “Would you like to try?”

Shang Jiuying shook her head slightly. “No… Can you just kill me outright?”

“No.”

She was silent again. Then, with a faint smile: “Then I suppose I’ll try.”

Zhang Tang asked: “Why do you want to try?”

Shang Jiuying asked in return: “If it were you — if I had you and was about to force you to give up information about Prince Ning — would you try?”

Zhang Tang nodded. “Yes.”

Shang Jiuying gave a quiet sound of understanding. “Exactly. Prince Ning to you, and the Military Governor to me — there’s no difference.”

Zhang Tang rose. “Your luck lies in being a woman.”

Shang Jiuying laughed. “If I’ve guessed right, you’re the one they call ‘the ghost’s ghost,’ Zhang Tang. I can’t fathom how a man like you would treat women and men differently. If that’s the case, I have to say — I’m a little disappointed.”

Zhang Tang shook his head. “You’ve probably misunderstood me. I wouldn’t treat them differently. What I meant was… you’re a woman. And more than that, Pei Qi’s woman. That’s your luck — because you’ll live a little longer than those two.”

Shang Jiuying stopped laughing.

Zhang Tang looked at the physician. “Treat her thoroughly. Come back here and wait tomorrow morning.”

The physician bowed. “Understood.”

Zhang Tang looked at Shang Jiuying. “Rest well tonight.”

So even-tempered. So gentle.

And yet it made the blood run cold.

—

The next day, a light rain fell.

Fang Biechen came once more to the area near that small courtyard. Seeing the soldiers stationed on the outer perimeter, he passed something to one of them.

“Please take this inside for me. Say it was sent by the Court.”

The soldier acknowledged it.

“Come in and sit a while.”

At that moment, Ding Weilu walked out of the small courtyard. When she saw Fang Biechen, she didn’t look surprised.

Gao Zhen had told her Fang Biechen was dead. But she knew — what had died was not a life, but a past tie.

Fang Biechen stood awkwardly at the gateway and tried to smile. “I won’t come in…”

“That’s fine,” Ding Weilu said. “Thank you for asking your friend to help. But I probably have no way to repay you now.”

“All you need to do in the future is live well,” Fang Biechen said. “Make something brilliant of your life. If I hear of it — that’s repayment enough. I helped you; you made me happy. We’re even.”

Ding Weilu looked at his face for a long time, then slowly nodded. “And you?”

“I’m going back to the Shu Region.”

“What will you do there?”

“Make sure every person in the whole of Shu lives well. Make something brilliant of their lives. If I can do that — I think I’ll be just as happy as hearing that you’re alright.”

Fang Biechen reached out, his hand suspended in the air for a moment — then touched the scar on Ding Weilu’s face, very gently.

“The fact that you’re willing to do this shows he’s worthy of you.”

He smiled, raised his hand, and ruffled her hair. “When I come back, the least he can do is share a cup of wine with me.”

Ding Weilu smiled too. “He can’t. Even if he gets better, he still can’t. But I can.”

Fang Biechen made a sound of acknowledgment, drew his hand back, turned, and told himself: Walk with dignity. Walk properly.

After several paces, Fang Biechen let out a long breath, then laughed at himself. You’re such a coward.

He felt like Ding Weilu had handled it far better, far more generously, than he had.

And then he laughed — a sudden, inexplicable burst of laughter. He didn’t know why. He tilted his head back at the sky and laughed out loud, and in that moment, the knot inside him simply… came loose.

—

Reaching the corner of the street, he found Gao Zhen leaning against the wall, watching him with an amused grin.

Fang Biechen walked toward him. “Laugh it up,” he said as he walked.

Gao Zhen grinned: “You’ve just been through the kind of parting that only happens between men and women — doesn’t it make you feel…”

He raised his hand, holding up a cloth bag.

“Doesn’t it make you feel that the simple pleasures between men are just so much easier? These are fresh-baked flatbreads, stuffed with freshly cooked pig-head meat, still hot. Given the slight wretchedness of what you just went through, I’m willing to give you the one with more lean meat.”

Fang Biechen said: “If you really wanted to prove something, you’d give me the pig snout.”

Gao Zhen drew himself up to his full height, with the tone of a man utterly beyond negotiation: “Not an inch of snout for you.”

Fang Biechen laughed. “Tell me — if a general of the Wolf Ape Battalion and a deputy general of the Wolf Ape Battalion were to flagrantly break military regulations and go drink wine first thing in the morning…”

Gao Zhen said: “Nobody breaks regulations… unless you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything and no one bigger than us finds out. Then it’s probably fine.”

Fang Biechen grabbed Gao Zhen’s arm. “Then what are we waiting for? Pig-head meat this good — not pairing it with a couple of liang of good spirit would be an absolute waste…”

Gao Zhen: “A couple of liang — if that’s your tolerance, you’re not fit to drink a drop…”

Then they saw someone coming toward them.

Someone who outranked both of them. Considerably.

Prince Ning himself.

Gao Zhen and Fang Biechen quickly straightened and saluted. Li Chi smiled. “What are you two doing here?”

Gao Zhen hastily held up the cloth bag. “We got a craving — picked up some flatbreads stuffed with pig-head meat. My Lord, would you like one? Join us.”

Li Chi looked down at the bag. “There are only six of them — and you’re offering me one? That’s not nearly eno—”

—