One hand holds a blade. The other holds a woman.

In this life, in this world of rivers and lakes—what more could make it complete?

At this moment, Gui Yuanshu’s choice was not born from any deep feeling for Yun Xiaozao. He was simply a man—a man in the most ordinary sense of the word.

The instant he drew his blade, every one of the Binding Spirit Guards leveled their crossbows at him. One more step, and the bolts would sweep across without mercy.

At the moment Gui Yuanshu drew his blade, no fewer than six Binding Spirit Guards had already stepped forward to place themselves in front of the Princess Consort of Prince Wu. These six men standing there were a wall of bronze and iron.

Six men. Six blades ready at their sides—not yet drawn, but ready.

“Enough.”

The Princess Consort of Prince Wu gave a cold snort.

“Zhao’er, remember this—a man must never be everything. If you make a man your everything, you’ve already lost.”

With those words, she rose and walked out. The Binding Spirit Guards in their red brocade robes followed and withdrew.

Yun Xiaozao watched the direction in which the Princess Consort of Prince Wu had departed, then suddenly knelt and kowtowed deeply, several times.

Then she rose, and as if speaking to herself, she said: “Auntie has been a winner all her life. In the final match—she knows she is certain to lose. Perhaps she does not want me to end up like her, facing that inevitable defeat.”

Gui Yuanshu nodded: “But she won’t change.”

Yun Xiaozao said: “Perhaps it is simply that when the women of the Cao family make a choice after careful thought, they do not change easily.”

She gave Gui Yuanshu a smile of gratitude: “Thank you just now.”

Gui Yuanshu shrugged slightly, saying nothing.

Yun Xiaozao glanced back at the two cups of wine that Gui Yuanshu had knocked to the ground. She wanted to know whether the wine had truly been poisoned, and Gui Yuanshu wanted to know too.

Gui Yuanshu said: “Perhaps she only wanted to test us—test you as well. So my guess is neither cup was actually poisoned.”

Yun Xiaozao smiled: “That’s probably right.”

She took one last look, then turned and walked out the door.

She knew—both cups had been poisoned.

Her aunt had not been joking with her, had not been trying to test her. She had simply wanted to kill Gui Yuanshu, and her intent had been that direct and that uncomplicated.

Perhaps it was because Yun Xiaozao had picked up both cups that her aunt found herself with no way to press further. Perhaps it was because Gui Yuanshu had drawn his blade, and that had changed something.

The things the Princess Consort of Prince Wu had said—they were in fact exactly what she had wanted Yun Xiaozao to do.

A man like Gui Yuanshu—no matter how outstanding—would almost certainly never become one of the founding nobles of a new empire. Because he was not a commander of armies.

When a new empire rises, the ones who matter most are the military men. What Gui Yuanshu oversaw—the intelligence corps—how long would such an institution persist, and what form would it take in the new imperial court? All of that remained unknown.

What was known was this: by the Princess Consort of Prince Wu’s assessment, what Gui Yuanshu was doing now was not sufficient to earn him a place among the nobles when the time came.

The women of the Cao family, once they made a choice, would not change easily—that was loyalty both to themselves and to their chosen companion.

But that choice had to be made with care, with calm—even with a measure of what others might call coldness.

“I suddenly want to know—what do you like most?”

Yun Xiaozao asked as she walked.

Gui Yuanshu thought about it carefully, then laughed: “I’m afraid my tastes are rather common.”

Yun Xiaozao: “You like silver?”

Gui Yuanshu said: “Money is certainly something I like—though it ranks among a few things I like, not at the top. Ahead of it are probably two things: in any story, a satisfying ending; in any love, the feeling of being fully wanted in return.”

He kept walking as he spoke: “I don’t like tragedies. No matter how beautiful a tragic story looks, I still don’t like it.”

Yun Xiaozao nodded: “Then we have something in common now.”

Gui Yuanshu: “You like these things too?”

Yun Xiaozao: “Not all of them yet. I said we have *one* thing in common—not all of them.”

Gui Yuanshu: “Which one?”

Yun Xiaozao: “The money one.”

Gui Yuanshu could not hold back a laugh—a laugh he could not quite contain. And his laughter left Yun Xiaozao somewhat baffled.

“Why are you laughing like that?”

Gui Yuanshu laughed: “Liking money is a good thing. Welcome home.”

Yun Xiaozao still did not understand—perhaps she would only understand when she reached Yuzhou.

The Princess Consort of Prince Wu’s people departed quickly. Yun Xiaozao still took all the hard silver from Yunyu Pawnshop—and the sum was no small amount. If two people were simply living their lives together, it would probably be enough to keep ten generations comfortable and content.

No worries over firewood, rice, oil, or salt. No strain over food, clothing, shelter, or travel.

They set out in the direction of Yuzhou. For Gui Yuanshu, it was a homecoming—his home was already there, not in Daxing City anymore.

For Yun Xiaozao, it was a journey to a new world—even though Yuzhou had, once upon a time, been her home.

Their two trajectories were a curious pair—perfectly opposite, yet somehow converging. When you thought about it, it really was a rather remarkable thing.

—

*Yuzhou City, the Plum Garden.*

The Tingwei Bureau had been gradually taking shape, with each of its departments now running smoothly. Li Chi, meanwhile, had moved his residence here.

Simply because, relatively speaking, it seemed he was the idle one—and Gao Xining was the one who never stopped, too busy to let her feet touch the ground.

Li Chi had moved here without explaining why. But Gao Xining understood perfectly.

Because every day she worked late and finally made her way back, the journey on the road might not be safe. And even if it was safe, she was already exhausted—he did not want her making the trip back and forth just to be even more tired.

In truth, he had even wanted to suggest that Gao Xining step back from most of her Tingwei Bureau duties. But she refused to hear of it.

Behind the Plum Garden, an area had been set aside and arranged to look just like the carriage yard from back in Jizhou—everything replicated, the courtyards and rooms, even the furnishings, all as close to the original carriage yard as could be. Even the Flowing Cloud Formation diagram was there.

At this moment, Li Chi and Xiahou Zuo and the others were in this space, enjoying treatment that all of Yuzhou—no, all under heaven—could not possibly provide elsewhere.

Auntie Wu’s hand-wrapped dumplings.

Freshly wrapped, freshly eaten. Thin wrappers, generous filling.

Perhaps only northerners would ever think to boil dumplings in a hot pot.

First the slices of meat, then the vegetables, and then the freshly wrapped dumplings lowered into the copper pot to cook.

“Auntie Wu—has that stingy fellow finally given you a raise?”

Xiahou Zuo asked between bites.

Auntie Wu looked much the same as ever—the same as she had been from the day Li Chi first walked into the Academy, and somehow even a little younger than before. Her face had more color now, her complexion better, and she had put on just the faintest amount of weight.

“What raise?” Auntie Wu sighed. “Back in Jizhou, the master used to pay me wages. These days there’s no such thing as wages anymore.”

Xiahou Zuo: “You’re kidding me—that heartless, shameless man?”

He looked over at Li Chi, who only smiled without answering.

Auntie Wu laughed, the sound warm and full-throated: “Now it’s a stipend. The master said—he’s paying me at the salary of a fifth-rank civil official. Even when I’m too old to cook anymore, it’ll keep coming.”

Xiahou Zuo narrowed his eyes at Auntie Wu: “Auntie Wu, you’ve been picking up some bad habits lately.”

Auntie Wu burst out laughing—a bright, unbridled laugh.

Li Chi suddenly thought of something and looked at Xiahou Zuo: “Is this not entertaining enough for you?”

Xiahou Zuo’s heart skipped: “What are you plotting now?”

Li Chi looked at Auntie Wu: “Auntie Wu—how about a blind tasting? You wrap them however you like, whatever filling you please, as long as there’s no poison—just pick whatever filling comes to mind. We two will see who has the better luck, and who has the stronger constitution.”

Xiahou Zuo sighed: “Has life become so unstimulating that you need this for excitement?”

Li Chi: “Come on, hero.”

Xiahou Zuo: “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

Li Chi said: “Hero—we need to add one condition.”

Xiahou Zuo: “For something like this, do you think I’d be scared? Go ahead—what terrible condition?”

Li Chi said: “No matter what filling you get, you’re not allowed to show it on your face. You have to look like it’s genuinely delicious—and you can’t spit it out. You have to actually swallow it.”

Auntie Wu laughed so hard she could barely keep her mouth closed: “That’s not right at all.”

Yet her face was all anticipation.

Xiahou Zuo sighed: “Auntie Wu, I’m telling you—you’ve been learning bad habits from them.”

Auntie Wu said: “Maybe we’d better not—what if someone upsets their stomach?”

As she spoke, she had already turned and hurried off to gather her ingredients—running, as if afraid they would change their minds.

The moment Auntie Wu entered the kitchen, Xiahou Yili followed her in from behind, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows: “Auntie Wu—let me.”

Auntie Wu: “Hm?”

Xiahou Yili said: “Of all the people here, the one who’s been kindest to those two is you. That’s exactly *why* they dare pull something like this with you. It’s time to let them discover what life’s real dangers taste like.”

She glanced back toward the two young girls standing by the doorway—Liu Yingyuan and Yuan Jiabei. In these past few years, both had been studying diligently, training under the Tingwei Army’s instructors in a wide range of skills.

A few days earlier, the Tingwei Army’s instructors had declared that both of them had become quite formidable—fully capable of holding their own.

So Gao Xining had immediately transferred them to serve directly under her, and together with Xiahou Yili—who had been running with Gao Xining’s crowd ever since arriving in Yuzhou—the four of them had become the most striking presence in the Tingwei Bureau.

And yet the four of them had, with considerable silliness, given themselves a title: the Four Great Demon Heads.

Liu Yingyuan said quietly: “I’m not quite brave enough.”

Yuan Jiabei nodded: “Me neither.”

Xiahou Yili: “Once Big Sister gets back, the two of you probably won’t get a turn anyway. Think about it—something this entertaining, once Big Sister hears about it, can you imagine her grinning?”

Just picturing the terrifying grin Gao Xining would wear upon learning something this amusing, the two young girls couldn’t help but laugh despite themselves.

Xiahou Yili: “Come on then!”

And both of them rolled up their sleeves.

About half a shichen later.

Xiahou Zuo: “Good heavens—this one’s actually delicious. This one is *really* delicious.”

Li Chi watched his expression carefully, searching for any crack to show through—and then he saw Xiahou Zuo, who was calling it delicious, with one lone tear sliding from the corner of his eye.

Li Chi: “Moved to tears by the taste?”

Xiahou Zuo swallowed with great difficulty, turned back to those three young women: “I just had the one with the dough-skin-and-dough-filling dumpling—I thought you were decent people…” He turned to address the one currently in his mouth. “This one is pure garlic. Whole heads of it. Who made this?”

Xiahou Yili smiled with a hint of sheepishness.

Xiahou Zuo sighed: “Whole heads of garlic is one thing—did you have to skip peeling the skin?”

Xiahou Yili: “Couldn’t do that—if we peeled the skins, there’d be nowhere to pack the chili powder.”

Just as they were talking, Gao Xining came in from outside. Walking up to the scene and taking it all in, she may not have known exactly what was happening—but with her quick mind, she could guess that something entertaining was unfolding.

She casually handed Li Chi an envelope—the wax seal still unbroken—and then reached out to pinch a dumpling.

“Big Sister, don’t—!” the three young women cried out all at once.

Gao Xining: “*Of course* there’d be a trap.”

Li Chi opened the envelope, drew out the letter inside, and after only a few lines, the corners of his eyes were already curling upward.

“Send someone to take this to Old Tang with the eastern expedition forces.”

Li Chi passed the letter to his attendant soldier, laughing as he said: “Luo Jing led his troops into Qingzhou—and then found that half of Qingzhou had already raised the Ning banner. Want to guess who did it?”

Gao Xining said: “You’re sending the letter to Old Tang, so that’s not hard to figure out—Miss Shen Shanhu?”

Li Chi gave a nod of confirmation: “Luo Jing says that if nothing goes wrong, taking Qingzhou should go very smoothly. By the time we factor in the timing—Old Tang’s troops should arrive in Suzhou around when Miss Shen and Luo Jing have already taken Qingzhou, allowing them to push south and rendezvous with Old Tang, then take Suzhou together.”

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

“Now I want to see how Yang Xuanji reacts when he hears the news.”

—