The foster mother shot Xiahou Zuo a look. His one careless “what’s going on” had clearly made Gao Xining feel a little embarrassed — a young woman’s dignity was a fragile thing.

The foster mother pulled Li Chi by the arm and said to Xiahou Zuo, “While you were away from Jizhou, I took in two children.”

She gestured at Gao Xining: “That one is my foster daughter.”

Then at Li Chi: “And this is my foster son-in-law.”

Li Chi: “Ugh.”

Xiahou Zuo burst into laughter and turned to Li Chi. “Shouldn’t you be expressing something? Come on, show some joy.”

Li Chi: “Joy also shouldn’t be too obvious. Besides, I’ve come in first — already the son-in-law — and that doesn’t exactly give me reason to rejoice.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Still, you have to show some reaction. Today is Mother’s big birthday. If you feel like laughing don’t hold it in — come on. Show something.”

Li Chi: “What expression would be appropriate? Should I give you a little bashful whimper to convey my shy delight?”

Xiahou Zuo threw a kick at him. “Good god.”

Li Chi dodged, looking aggrieved. “Whimper…”

Xiahou Zuo looked at Gao Xining. “You can still change your mind. This man is not worth entrusting your life to.”

Gao Xining: “Should I… also do a little bashful whimper?”

Li Chi: “Please, no. Brother Gao, not you too.”

Gao Xining: “Brother, kick him.”

Xiahou Zuo: “With pleasure.”

He stepped forward to chase Li Chi, then abruptly stopped and looked back at Gao Xining. He’d just been laughing, but all at once his expression went slightly rigid. Seeing the flash of distress on Gao Xining’s face, he quickly said he was sorry, then forced a smile.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s all go make birthday noodles.”

Li Chi glanced at Gao Xining and gave a slight shake of his head, signaling that it was all right. Gao Xining gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment, feeling a pang of guilt. She knew why Xiahou Zuo’s expression had gone rigid in that moment.

“Make noodles.”

Li Chi pulled Xiahou Zuo aside and lowered his voice. “What brought you back?”

Xiahou Zuo smiled. “Everything’s calm in the capital, so I—”

His mother sighed. “Stop pretending. Talk — I’ll pretend I’m not listening.”

Xiahou Zuo smiled awkwardly.

“The Black Wu army has withdrawn. They didn’t break through our frontier passes. They turned to raid the steppe instead. The steppe people quickly submitted, offering up large numbers of cattle, sheep, and herders as slaves, and the Black Wu main force pulled back to their own territory.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “I’ve been at Daizhou Pass building the memorial stele forest this whole time. There wasn’t much for me to do either. After the Yanshan Camp troops arrived, I found it all rather dull there, so I hurried back to celebrate Mother’s birthday. I’ll stay at home a few days, then head north again.”

Li Chi gave a sound of agreement and was about to respond when another knock came at the door. Also one of their own.

Li Chi jogged to the door and opened it. Yu Jiuling slipped in from outside, his expression urgent. “Something’s happened. Urgent.”

Li Chi asked, “What is it?”

Yu Jiuling looked outside. Li Chi followed his gaze — and found that Madam Sun had come. She held a letter in her hand and extended it to Li Chi. “Yun Gu came back just now and gave me a letter, asking me to find a way to get it to Xiahou Zuo’s mother. I don’t know Xiahou Zuo—”

She stopped, startled. She hadn’t expected Xiahou Zuo to actually be there. She’d seen him a few times at the Yunzhai Teahouse when Li Chi was there, but had barely any acquaintance with him.

A little while earlier, Yun Gu had come in a great hurry, asking Madam Sun to do her a favor: deliver a letter to Xiahou Zuo’s mother. But she didn’t know her, so she’d rushed to the carriage depot to find Li Chi. She didn’t know the full details, but it involved Xiahou, so Yu Jiuling had immediately brought Madam Sun over.

Li Chi didn’t open the letter. He turned and handed it to Xiahou Zuo.

Xiahou Zuo opened it and passed it to his mother, then asked Li Chi, “Who is Yun Gu?”

“Ah!”

He hadn’t even finished asking, and Li Chi hadn’t yet had a chance to answer, before the foster mother’s eyes went suddenly wide.

Because the letter’s first words were: *Respected Mother.*

Just those three words were enough to make his mother sway where she stood.

Xiahou Zuo quickly steadied her. His mother’s hands were shaking as she held the letter — shaking, and shaking harder, the page quivering with great wide trembles. There was no way to keep reading.

“My sister?!”

The moment Xiahou Zuo saw the words *Respected Mother* for himself, his own eyes went wide.

“It’s Yuli. It’s a letter from Yuli.”

His mother’s voice was trembling as she spoke, her hands quaking so violently that the paper was practically flapping up and down, making it impossible to continue.

Li Chi quickly came over and held both of the foster mother’s hands steady with his own.

“You have to go save her.”

Madam Sun spoke with urgency. “She went to Prince Yu’s mansion alone. Today is the Princess’s birthday. She went to assassinate the Princess. Yun Gu came back and told me in one sentence, then turned around and went back — said she had to go be with Miss Xiruo.”

“Yun Gu?”

The foster mother repeated the name softly to herself. “Little Yun?”

In the next breath, before anyone else had reacted, Xiahou Zuo had already burst out the door.

Li Chi immediately turned and followed, without a moment’s hesitation.

A warhorse stood outside the gate — Xiahou’s mount. Xiahou Zuo vaulted into the saddle. Li Chi said, “I’m coming with you.”

Xiahou Zuo wheeled the horse. “Stay and look after Mother.”

Li Chi shouted, his voice rough: “I’m coming with you!”

Xiahou Zuo was silent for a moment, then reached out his hand. “Come!”

Li Chi reached up and seized Xiahou Zuo’s hand. Xiahou Zuo exerted his strength and hauled Li Chi up onto the horse’s back. The two rode together; Xiahou Zuo cracked the whip and they surged forward.

—

Prince Yu’s mansion.

Xia Xiruo clutched the pipa tightly to her chest, then glanced down at the wooden crate resting by her feet. Inside were all the instruments she had brought for this occasion — about six or seven pieces in all.

“Miss.”

The elderly woman ahead turned back and smiled at Xia Xiruo. “It’s almost our turn. Don’t be tense — our act takes a while. You can slip away to the privy first. You wouldn’t want to feel uncomfortable up on stage. There’s plenty of time.”

Only now did Xia Xiruo realize: the first act after the Princess’s arrival wasn’t her. It was the mother and son in front of her.

The bright young man looked back at her and smiled. It seemed as if he had something he wanted to say, but in the end he said nothing.

He picked up a crate and went up; his mother followed behind. Xia Xiruo moved a few steps forward and stood at the side of the stage, watching the two of them step into view.

The pair bowed respectfully to Prince Yu and the Princess, then bowed again to the assembled guests.

The young man said cheerfully, “Some folk amusements from among the common people, offered to the Prince and Princess. May the Princess know boundless fortune and long life!”

After he finished, he opened the crate and began laying out his props one by one. His mother sat down on a stool and tuned her erhu. Played at a slow tempo, the erhu could sound almost mournful; she played it quick and bright.

While she played, the young man sat down and began carefully painting his own face. In no time at all, he had transformed himself into a monkey face. He bowed toward the Princess, then launched himself backward in a backflip and landed on one knee, both hands stretched forward — and somehow, a peach appeared in his hands.

The Princess broke into an immediate smile and began to clap without thinking. She leaned over to Prince Yu. “That young man’s tricks are delightful.”

Prince Yu smiled. “So long as you’re pleased.”

The Princess looked at the mansion’s steward, Song Chunming, and laughed. “All these entertaining people — wherever did you find them all?”

Song Chunming bowed. “Some from within Jizhou city, and some gathered from counties across the region. It took nearly half a year to prepare, all told.”

The Princess nodded. “It was no small effort. Go claim your reward afterward — two hundred taels, and five bolts of brocade.”

Song Chunming bent lower still. “Many thanks to the Princess for her generosity.”

The Princess smiled and extended her hand. A small maidservant kneeling in attendance immediately offered a silver bowl brimming with silver pellets. The Princess grabbed a handful and scattered them across the stage.

The steward Song Chunming immediately called out, “The Princess bestows a reward!”

The moment the Princess led the way, all the distinguished guests seated in the courtyard followed suit, tossing handful after handful of silver pellets onto the stage, drawing wide-eyed envy from the performers still waiting in the wings.

The young man mimicked a monkey scavenging for food, picking up the silver pellets one by one. His impersonation was wonderfully precise — he even popped a pellet into his mouth, bit down, and acted as though it had knocked out a tooth, squawking with monkey-like shrieks of pain.

The Princess watched with pure delight, laughing until she nearly fell backward.

The steward Song Chunming bowed and murmured, “This young man has another specialty. It’s called Three Monkeys Present Their Gifts — he can split himself into three monkeys on the spot. Quite extraordinary to watch.”

The Princess smiled. “Let him perform it.”

Song Chunming rose and announced in a clear voice, “The Princess commands: perform the Three Monkeys Present Their Gifts.”

The young man immediately agreed and took something from the crate and fitted it on. The act of Three Monkeys, it turned out, involved strapping two puppet monkeys — one to each side of his body — and controlling all three to appear as if they moved independently. A lesser performer would have all three monkeys moving in perfect unison, which was the easy route. The remarkable thing was that this young man controlled his puppets so that each of the three monkeys had completely different movements — yet none of it looked wrong or jarring.

At that moment, the young man flipped off the stage and leapt into the air; it looked as though all three monkeys had launched themselves together. They somersaulted in the air, and at the instant of landing, all three dropped to their knees before Prince Yu and the Princess as one.

The young man glanced left. The left puppet monkey raised both hands, offering a wooden scepter of good fortune. Men of their station couldn’t exactly produce a jade one.

He glanced right. The right puppet monkey raised both hands, presenting a wooden carving of a cabbage — a symbol for “a hundred fortunes.” The carving was convincing and vividly painted.

The entire audience called out in admiration.

But this wasn’t the end. The young man moved his left hand; the left puppet monkey tilted its head to look at him. He moved his right hand; the right puppet monkey turned to look too. The implication seemed clear: *we each have a treasure to offer the Prince and Princess — what do you have?*

The young man’s expression went comically awkward, then annoyed — glaring left, glaring right — until the Princess was laughing helplessly, and even Prince Yu was amused.

The young man patted himself down — here, there — couldn’t find anything, scratched his ears and head in desperation.

The Princess laughed. “You don’t need to present anything. Just do another monkey backflip.”

The young man immediately nodded, then suddenly performed a pantomime of just remembering something — reached around behind himself — and somehow produced an enormous peach.

He dropped to one knee, both hands raised, presenting the peach to the Princess.

The Princess was so pleased she was nearly breathless with laughter.

The peach split open. From inside it, the young man snatched a clutch of daggers, and drove them straight at Prince Yu’s heart.

—