The Four-Page Academy.

Li Diudiu returned to his room with his right arm hanging limp, wondering whether he should go see the Academy physician—but not feeling like moving. The things he had experienced today were too many, piled on one another until they felt surreal.

If not for the aching soreness of his injuries, everything he had been through might have seemed like a dream.

He had been in the middle of it all, and yet somehow the matter felt as if it had nothing to do with him anymore. What came next would be a contest between figures far higher up than he could see—great figures at levels he couldn’t yet reach. What would happen, he couldn’t know from where he now stood.

But he could see Xiahou Zuo. His brother was within sight. That was enough.

He collapsed onto his bed and lay there, and even just lying down felt like bliss. But only a moment later, Li Diudiu shot upright, reached into his clothes, and searched around until he felt the bank notes still there. He let out a long breath.

What were these bank notes?

They were a house. They were the foundation of his Master’s livelihood.

So he broke into a foolish, carefree grin, not a worry in the world.

The urgent knock at the door—a knock like the clatter of hooves—startled him out of his grin.

“Who is it?”

Li Diudiu called.

“Me.”

Just the one word, from Gao Xining outside.

Li Diudiu smiled foolishly again.

“The door isn’t latched,” he said.

Gao Xining pushed the door open but didn’t dare step inside at once. She poked her head in and peered around the room, and in that moment Li Diudiu thought she was impossibly beautiful—those large eyes of hers were lovely as the sun, moon, and stars all at once.

“No practice today.”

Li Diudiu smiled and said: “Consider it a debt I owe you. I’ll make it up tomorrow.”

Gao Xining seemed at a loss for what to say. In the end she asked: “Have you… eaten?”

Li Diudiu was about to say no—and then thought of Gao Xining’s duck leg. The rumbling that had been about to rise from his stomach was forcibly suppressed, replaced moments later by a fart that escaped without permission.

So Gao Xining assumed he must have eaten. Quite a lot, judging by the sounds.

Gao Xining said, a little shyly: “I heard you were back and figured you probably hadn’t eaten yet, so I brought some food. But it sounds like your energy is very robust… what did you have?”

Li Diudiu laughed. “You’re a young lady from a proper family—can’t you conduct yourself with a bit more dignity? ‘Energy is very robust’—it’s already dark out. Who told you I was back?”

Gao Xining gave a small, embarrassed laugh. She had been waiting here the entire time. She’d wanted to go to the Jizhou Prefecture Yamen to find out what had happened, but her grandfather had forbidden it and had people making sure she couldn’t run off. Left with no option, she’d stood vigil outside Li Diudiu’s room. When Li Diudiu came back, she’d seen him—but then realized he probably hadn’t had anything to eat all day, so she’d dashed back to fetch some snacks.

Li Diudiu asked: “What did you bring?”

Gao Xining said, a little self-consciously: “It’s so late, there wasn’t much to find. I just turned up a few pastries from home. They’re not actually very good.”

Li Diudiu said: “I actually haven’t eaten. Since you brought it all the way here, why won’t you let me taste some?”

Gao Xining immediately brightened. She carried the food box inside, set the pastries on the table—then immediately hopped back out the door like a startled rabbit, poking her head in from outside. “My grandfather says men and women should not touch hands, and certainly should not be alone together at night. I’ll watch from out here while you eat.”

Li Diudiu used his left hand to open the food box. The pastries inside looked genuinely tempting.

He had been holding on through force of will—but at the sight of the pastries, his stomach lost all self-control and gave a loud, insistent growl.

Gao Xining heard it from outside. She said quietly: “You might as well just let it out—look at that, the sound of you holding it back is even more unpleasant.”

Li Diudiu was in the middle of shoving pastries into his mouth with both hands. At those words, he burst out laughing and sent a spray of crumbs across the room.

He laughed and said: “Have you ever gone hungry enough for your stomach to growl? Do you think farts are things you can just suck back in?”

Gao Xining shook her head. She genuinely had never experienced that kind of hunger.

In the moment she shook her head, Li Diudiu had the sudden, slightly overwrought thought that her world and his were so very far apart. She had never once known what it felt like to be hungry.

What ridiculous melodrama.

Li Diudiu scolded himself, then went on shoveling pastries into his mouth. Gao Xining noticed that he had been using only his left hand the entire time. Her expression shifted. Carefully, she asked: “Is your right arm all right?”

Li Diudiu shook his head and said, mouth still full: “It’s fine. A night’s sleep will fix it.”

Gao Xining was worried, but too embarrassed to show it too openly. So she found a casual excuse and said: “I’m just concerned that if you end up crippled, you’ll have trouble finding a wife in the future.”

Li Diudiu: “…”

Just then, Headmaster Gao Shaowei arrived with several instructors in tow—Yan Qingzhi among them. He reached the doorway and gave his granddaughter a look. She understood, gave a nod, and took her leave—but cast a glance at Yan Qingzhi before going. Yan Qingzhi met her eyes and signaled silently that she should not worry, he was here.

Headmaster Gao came inside. Li Diudiu immediately rose to bow, and because his right arm was in considerable pain, his posture came out a bit stiff and awkward.

Yan Qingzhi crossed the room in a single stride, grabbed Li Diudiu’s right arm, and pressed along it. Li Diudiu winced—he made no sound, but in an instant beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead.

“The bone is broken.”

Yan Qingzhi said those four words in a low, subdued voice.

Headmaster Gao felt a tightness in his chest. Among all the Academy’s students, this boy was by any measure the least polished, the least well-mannered. And yet here he was—bone fractured—still gritting his teeth to bow in greeting.

What does it mean to respect one’s teacher?

This is what it means.

Some people’s respect exists only in their mouths. Some people’s respect lives in their hearts.

Headmaster Gao immediately said: “Go and fetch the physician.”

“No need. I’ll handle it.”

Yan Qingzhi looked at Li Diudiu. “There’s some displacement. I’ll set it. Bear with it.”

Li Diudiu said: “Just a moment.”

Yan Qingzhi asked: “What are you doing?”

Li Diudiu stuffed two more pastries into his mouth and said: “Ready.”

Yan Qingzhi: “…”

He gripped the fractured site and pressed. Li Diudiu’s eyes flew wide open in pain—but his jaw kept working, chewing steadily, looking for all the world like a hamster with a face full of seeds. Yan Qingzhi found the whole thing somewhat bewildering.

*What manner of strange child is this.*

Yan Qingzhi set the bone back into place, then snapped two legs off a stool and used them to splint Li Diudiu’s arm. When he was done, Yan Qingzhi exhaled slowly.

Li Diudiu swallowed what was in his mouth and glanced at the food box. He obviously hadn’t had nearly enough to eat.

Headmaster Gao was nearly moved to laughter at the sight of him.

Headmaster Gao said: “If you can eat, then eat. Don’t mind us being here. It’s no breach of manners.”

Li Diudiu nodded, picked up a pastry with his fingers, and pushed it into his mouth.

Headmaster Gao was quiet for a moment, then said: “You’ve been injured. If there’s anything inconvenient for you, tell me now—I’ll arrange for someone to look after you for a time. And if there’s anything you need, say so now.”

Li Diudiu puffed out his cheeks and said: “Give me back a stool.”

Headmaster Gao: “…”

Li Diudiu added, quite sincerely: “This room only had one stool. When I do my studies, I have nothing to sit on while I write.”

Headmaster Gao nodded. “We’ll replace it.”

He looked at Yan Qingzhi. “You replace it.”

Yan Qingzhi: “…”

—

At the same time, at the garrison encampment of the Military Commissioner’s forces.

The largest tent in the camp. Xiahou Zuo lay on his stretcher with eyes closed, resting. From outside the tent came intermittent pleading, followed one after another by the sound of a long blade severing a neck.

A moment later, General Liu Ge came in from outside. He passed his bloodied sword to an aide and walked forward. “Everyone brought from the Jizhou Prefecture Jail has been dealt with. The ones we haven’t caught yet won’t be long.”

Xiahou Zuo opened his eyes. “Is there wine?”

Liu Ge looked at him sideways. “You’re in this state, and you still want to drink?”

Xiahou Zuo said: “My heart feels blocked. I want a drink.”

“Bear with it.”

Liu Ge sat down and said: “The picture is mostly clear by now. Your elder brother Yang Zhuo—he waited for your father to go to the capital and then moved to have you eliminated. He’s far more ruthless than you are. If I were you, I would…”

He stopped himself there, leaving those words unfinished.

Xiahou Zuo didn’t react to the hint. He thought for a moment and said: “Whether Father was genuinely summoned back to Daxing or not is uncertain—but knowing his caution, he’s probably sent someone ahead of himself to confirm it. If it wasn’t an imperial summons, he’ll turn back at once. Leaving one’s fief without authorization is a serious offense.”

Liu Ge said: “You mean your elder brother was ruthless enough to target not only you, but your father as well? He’s the eldest son—if your father were gone, he’d inherit the princely title…”

Xiahou Zuo shook his head. “He wouldn’t dare.”

Liu Ge said: “Who can say, with human nature—forget it, let’s not talk about this. The situation at Jizhou Prefecture will be sorted by the Military Commissioner on your behalf. You have nothing to fear.”

He leaned forward and looked Xiahou Zuo directly in the eyes. “Are you still set on going to the northern frontier next year? The Commissioner thinks very highly of you—if you stay here, you’ll certainly be given important responsibilities. And with your father’s standing, if you remain in Jizhou, your future prospects would be…”

Xiahou Zuo said: “I’m not staying.”

Liu Ge sighed. “What’s so appealing about the northern frontier? The climate is harsh, you’ll be cold and hungry—it’s suffering, going there.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “You know my ambitions.”

Liu Ge made a dismissive sound. “Naive. If you go to the northern frontier to garrison the border, even if Luo Jing shows you some respect, you’d be nothing more than a cavalry officer at best. You’d be expected to charge at the front of every battle. Your martial skills are average at best, and—”

“Shut up.”

Xiahou Zuo rolled his eyes at him. “My martial skills are average? Whose fault is that? You taught me.”

Liu Ge said: “That’s absurd—it’s because your foundation isn’t—”

“My foundation is excellent,” Xiahou Zuo said, cutting him off. “Who else has as solid a foundation as mine? I have the best foundation of anyone.”

“Li Chi.”

Liu Ge said it offhandedly. “That boy’s foundation is genuinely good. A natural born fighter. On the way back, you also heard what Ye Zhangzhu said—praised him without reservation. Said he’s never seen the like.”

Xiahou Zuo, far from being bothered, only broke into a foolish grin. “His foundation is good. I am first-rate, and he is first-rate among the first-rate.”

Liu Ge was taken aback. “You never yield to anyone. When someone tells you their foundation is better than yours, most of the time you’re ready to argue—but you hear that his is better than yours and you just… accept it?”

Xiahou Zuo said: “Him? He’s my brother.”

Liu Ge shook his head. “But he and you are not on the same level. They will grow apart—trust me. People who aren’t on the same level always grow apart. It’s not necessarily you who’ll distance yourself from him—it might be him, out of his own sense of inadequacy, who gradually pulls away from you. This happens constantly. You and he are worlds apart to begin with; even if two people start from the exact same place, once one rises and the other doesn’t, they drift apart.”

Xiahou Zuo froze. Something distant entered his gaze.

Liu Ge saw him go quiet and couldn’t help asking: “What are you thinking?”

Xiahou Zuo said, as if turning something over: “What if I just pull him up a level by force?”