Zhang Tang knelt there for a long time without being able to rise — yet measured against the span of a whole life, it was only a brief moment. And yet it was surely the moment that would leave the deepest mark on Zhang Tang.

In that time, Zhang Tang turned over countless thoughts, his mind twisting and turning through a thousand paths. In the end, only two words were seared into the depths of his mind.

*Position.*

Everyone must know, with absolute clarity, where their position lies.

Zhang Tang slowly rose, glanced back at the interrogation chamber where Liu Yangong was held, then looked down at the embroidered Deputy Chief Tingwei robes he wore.

A chill along his back — and with it, the realization that he was drenched in sweat.

—

Li Chi returned to Gao Xining’s study to find that the divine eagle had nearly finished off the entire large pot of noodles, still chomping away contentedly.

Li Chi let out a small humph — with just a touch of petulance.

Returning to Gao Xining’s side, Li Chi was no longer Prince Ning Li Chi. No matter how troubled he was, the moment he was back beside Gao Xining, he was the happiest man under heaven.

“You really did feed all those noodles to the divine eagle while I was gone.”

Li Chi humphed.

Gao Xining said, with perfect sincerity: “I didn’t give it all of them. I ate one bite too. They were just… really not good.”

The moment those words left her mouth, the divine eagle gave a sudden retch, and — thoughtful creature that it was — glanced at Gao Xining and then trotted in small hurried steps out to the courtyard before it started to vomit.

Li Chi watched this unfold, then looked at Gao Xining.

Gao Xining had already begun to reflect with feeling: “It really is hard on it. I took one bite and I spat it out too…”

After Li Chi settled into a chair and slowly exhaled, Gao Xining knew his mood was not good.

She walked around behind Li Chi, raised her hand, and rested it on his shoulder. Li Chi felt a wave of warmth, turned, and looked at her with gentle eyes. Gao Xining met his gaze, her own eyes equally tender.

A breath later, Gao Xining raised her hand and rapped Li Chi on the back of his head: “Move over — I’m the one who needs a shoulder rub. Get to work.”

Li Chi: “Ow—!”

And then Li Chi obediently got up, guided Gao Xining to the seat with a gentle hand, and then stood behind her, beginning to knead her shoulders with great tenderness.

Perhaps it was in that single moment that Li Chi’s mood suddenly lifted.

“Things here in Youzhou are complicated. The Cao family may no longer be able to stir up any more trouble, but all the various factions that gathered in Youzhou at the time are still watching and waiting. And nearly everything and everyone is being managed by the Tingwei forces — which means you’re the one coordinating all of it.”

Li Chi kneaded her shoulders as he spoke: “These past days — you’ve worked hard.”

Gao Xining bit her lip, and because of those words, she nearly cried.

It was supposed to be her comforting him — yet he had done what needed to be done first.

“Neither of us is who we used to be.”

Gao Xining murmured as if speaking to herself.

Li Chi gave a soft sound of agreement: “I’ve gotten a bit more handsome than before. And you haven’t gotten any uglier either.”

Gao Xining: “Oh, go to hell.”

Li Chi chuckled, and the hands working at her shoulders began — ever so slightly — to wander downward.

Gao Xining tilted her head up and glared at him. Li Chi’s hands stopped dead in their tracks — at a spot just a tiny bit below the shoulders, precisely where a subtle curve was just beginning to take shape.

Of course that tiny bit couldn’t actually reach that curve. But that didn’t stop Li Chi from feeling as though he’d gained an inch from being given a millimeter — a tiny, precious, hard-won millimeter. Even so, one glare had stopped him cold, and he dared not push further.

Gao Xining: “Hmph… and here I thought you’d grown bold.”

Li Chi sighed: “If only you knew just how bold I’ve become right now…”

Gao Xining didn’t catch his meaning.

Li Chi couldn’t quite explain it either.

He heaved a heavy sigh. At this point he was starting to develop something like a psychological shadow — every time he thought about getting a little closer to Gao Xining, it was as if he could see three old men peering through the gap in the window, staring right at him.

That shadow probably wouldn’t lift until their wedding day.

Gao Xining raised her hand and took hold of his, then said with great sincerity: “If you’re really that pent-up, you could always spend a bit of money.”

Li Chi burst out laughing.

Gao Xining laughed too: “What were you thinking? Did you think I was encouraging you to go spend money at *that kind* of place? I meant you could just bribe those three old men.”

Li Chi laughed: “Good thing I stopped myself. I was this close to going to ask our Ninth Sister what a man does to not look like a first-timer walking into such a place.”

Gao Xining scoffed: “You’ve guarded your virtue all these years — what a waste it would be to throw it away somewhere like that. I’d be the one losing out.”

Li Chi: “Yes, yes, absolutely you would.”

Gao Xining said: “When I sent you and Yili out that time, you two stayed at an inn?”

Li Chi immediately said: “Two separate rooms.”

Gao Xining raised her hand and knocked him on the head: “And *that’s* why I don’t think you’ve got it in you!”

Li Chi: “I absolutely do!”

Gao Xining: “You do not.”

Li Chi said: “Now I really can’t let that stand. Come on then — let me show you whether I’ve got it in me or not. Never mind those three old men — today I’m going to make sure you know exactly what ‘having it in me’ looks like.”

Gao Xining immediately stood up: “Whoever backs down is a little dog.”

The words had barely left her mouth when a knock sounded at the door. Li Chi deflated instantly, like a punctured balloon.

Gao Xining sighed as well: “I’ll bet one copper coin that’s my grandfather.”

Li Chi said: “I’ll take that bet — I’m guessing it’s my master.”

The door opened — and both of them were there.

Chancellor Gao and the Daoist Changmei had come together, which led Li Chi and Gao Xining to wonder whether they’d obtained some kind of talisman from Old Zhenren Zhang — the kind that buzzed and crackled with light the moment Li Chi and she made any move toward each other.

And so these two old men would come rushing in on the wind, descending from the heavens like divine soldiers from above.

Li Chi and Gao Xining welcomed the two elders inside. Li Chi hurried off to brew tea.

Chancellor Gao watched his granddaughter’s future husband moving about so obediently and pleasingly, and couldn’t help giving a satisfied nod. In years past — in the earliest days — he had held a far less favorable opinion of Li Chi.

But somewhere along the way, the more he looked at this foolish young man, the more he found him agreeable. To the point where, these days, he found Li Chi even more agreeable to look at than Gao Xining herself.

Someone had once said: a father-in-law grows less fond of his son-in-law the more he sees him; a mother-in-law grows fonder of her son-in-law the more she sees him.

And a grandfather-in-law looking at a future grandson-in-law? Perhaps sometimes he finds him agreeable, and sometimes he doesn’t.

“I heard about the matter with Yunsao Pavilion.”

Chancellor Gao accepted the tea Li Chi handed him and smiled: “When Han Huamei and I were both in Daxing, our relationship was not distant. In fact, by certain reckonings, he ought to address me as teacher.”

He smiled on: “So when I heard about the matter, your master and I had a discussion about what we could contribute. Your master came up with an idea — let me take point. I’ll reach out and invite Han Huamei, along with the scholars and students in Youzhou, to a gathering.”

Li Chi’s eyes lit up immediately.

This was truly an excellent plan.

And who was Chancellor Gao?

Chancellor Gao was one of the foremost Confucian scholars of the age. Back in Daxing, countless people had broken their heads trying to gain entry into his school.

Even a man as proud as Han Huamei had once considered having studied under Chancellor Gao to be a mark of honor — and given Han Huamei’s arrogance, the fact that he felt that way was testimony enough to Chancellor Gao’s standing among the learned.

This was precisely why Prince Yu Yang Jixing had once tried to coerce Chancellor Gao — because if the Chancellor were to write a declaration in his own hand, a great many scholars across the realm would have been willing to follow Prince Yu’s banner.

That scheme, of course, had been unraveled by Li Chi.

“I intend to go visit Han Huamei tomorrow, and then have him take the lead in choosing a venue within Youzhou to invite scholars and readers from near and far.”

Chancellor Gao said: “We are old men — what we can do is limited. We can only do what we are best suited for.”

Li Chi gave his sincere thanks.

Chancellor Gao said: “You understand the general idea by now. As for the venue — you two choose…”

Changmei the Daoist: “The expenses, you two pay.”

Li Chi looked at his master, whose expression said clearly: *You can look at me all you want — it won’t make me feel the least bit embarrassed. Stare as long as you like. You’re paying the appearance fee too.*

Gao Xining smiled: “How about the Plum Garden?”

Li Chi said: “And it doesn’t have to be just scholars. Common folk should be welcome too. The Plum Garden used to be forbidden ground to them — they kept their distance out of deference. Now they can come in and have a look for themselves.”

Chancellor Gao said: “In that case, the Plum Garden may not be large enough to hold everyone.”

Li Chi said: “All the better — sparse attendance would be a problem.”

And so the matter was settled. Chancellor Gao understood better than anyone the principle that the mouths of scholars set the direction of the wind.

With him present, and Han Huamei stepping forward to openly condemn the Investigation Bureau and the Dachu court, the common people would carry the word out with remarkable speed.

From ancient times to the present, victory on the battlefield had never been the sole determining factor in who ultimately prevailed.

—

Meanwhile, outside a small pastry shop.

Tingwei Senior Officer Fang Xidao looked up at it. The rooftop was already overgrown with weeds.

Deputy Chief Tingwei Zhang Tang had reasoned: the person Liu Yangong cared so deeply about must be a woman.

Some said Liu Yangong was a eunuch — how could a eunuch be willing to give his life for a woman? But consider this: Liu Yangong was a eunuch — so when would he ever give his life for a man?

So the order Zhang Tang had given Fang Xidao was this: go and find out which pastry shop in Youzhou is run by a woman alone.

This deduction had been made before Li Chi’s second visit to Liu Yangong — at a time when Liu Yangong had said nothing about it being for a woman.

That was what made Zhang Tang so frightening.

Getting this information was no great difficulty for the Tingwei forces. Less than an hour after leaving the Tingwei Bureau, Fang Xidao was standing outside the shop.

The door was shut tight. It was still early morning — nothing unusual about a shop not yet open.

But Fang Xidao dared not be careless. No one who had risen to a position of prominence within the Investigation Bureau was a useless fool.

This was one of the stranger qualities of the Investigation Bureau. With Dachu in such decline, most high officials in every department were hollow, incompetent men. But not so in the Investigation Bureau — particularly above the rank of Centurion, where every one of them had real ability.

Fang Xidao raised a hand and pointed at the door. Seven or eight Tingwei officers stepped forward immediately. They unhooked their iron-tipped lances, bound ropes to them, and all seven or eight hurled the lances forward at once.

With a series of heavy thuds, the iron lances punched clean through the shop door. The officers hauled together, and the entire door was wrenched off and sent flying.

The officers advanced into the shop in alternating cover formation. Inside, dust and debris billowed — not a person in sight.

Fang Xidao stepped through the door. One of the officers handed him a piece of paper found on the table. Fang Xidao read it, and his brow furrowed immediately.

There was only a single line written on it.

*You killed him. For the rest of my life, I live only to kill you.*

Fang Xidao ordered his men to search the entire shop, right down to tearing up the floorboards, then turned and left.

Not long after, the note was brought to Gao Xining. She looked it over, then picked up her brush, wrote a few words on it, and handed it back to Fang Xidao: “Put it back.”

When Fang Xidao read those words, his eyes filled with a quiet pride.

A short while later, the note was pasted back to the wall of the shop.

*You killed him. For the rest of my life, I live only to kill you.*

Below it:

*Noted.*

Just then, one of the Tingwei officers shouted in surprised delight: “Found it!”

They had broken through the floor. Beneath it, a faint golden shimmer emerged from the earth.

—