By evening, the situation had developed in a completely unexpected way.

Bao Zhu had abundant qi and blood and a strong, robust constitution. After changing into dry clothes and taking an afternoon nap in the ox cart, she was fine. Of the three people who participated in the water play, none had any problems—only Yang Xingjian began feeling cold all over, dizzy and lightheaded, continuously shivering.

They barely managed to reach Lingbao County seat, where he had already fallen ill with fever. The group had just found an inn and settled into their rooms when he toppled headfirst from the ox cart, lying half-dead and unable to get up.

Wei Xun could only carry him horizontally in his arms, bringing the frail registrar all the way to his room and coldly placing him on the bed.

Yang Xingjian burned with fever, his eyes delirious, thinking his final hour had come. Looking at Bao Zhu with tears streaming down, he continuously confessed his guilt: “This old minister presumptuously claimed to be the princess’s father—utterly treasonous and extremely presumptuous. It seems I can only atone with death. But having failed to complete Prince Shao’s trust, with the journey to Youzhou stretching thousands of li and the princess traveling alone, I cannot die with peace of mind…”

Bao Zhu pitied how even in illness he didn’t forget his duties. Sitting beside the bed and holding his hand to comfort him: “Registrar, why do you speak so? It’s merely catching a slight cold. Taking a couple doses of medicine and resting a few days will make you completely well.”

Yang Xingjian wailed mournfully: “Princess need not comfort this old minister. I understand very clearly in my heart that my fortune and longevity have been damaged beyond repair. Now I must compose a death poem and earnestly request the princess to record it and deliver it to my family.”

Then his poetic inspiration flourished as he began reciting: “This journey to Youzhou spans ten thousand li, seeking neither honor nor disgrace, let others judge…”

Bao Zhu immediately interrupted his poetry, saying gently: “The three characters ‘let others judge’ need reconsideration—it could be written even better. There’s plenty of time ahead, registrar shouldn’t rush. Think it over slowly—you’ll have wonderful inspiration in the future.” She reached out to feel his forehead, finding it burning hot, knowing he was delirious with fever.

The martial brothers stood at the door observing this exchange. Watching Bao Zhu comfort Yang Xingjian, Shisan Lang had never received such gentle treatment and was extremely envious. He said quietly to Wei Xun: “If senior martial brother hadn’t needlessly attacked someone, when you fell ill back then, she would have held your hand like this too, touched your head, and said nice things to you.” His tone carried considerable resentment of failing to meet expectations.

Having his junior martial brother bring up that extremely regrettable incident again, Wei Xun forcibly suppressed the urge to kick him. His heart filled with both annoyance and jealousy, he wanted to take advantage of Yang Xingjian’s delirious illness to shave off all his goat whiskers and stick them on the clay statue of the City God’s face.

He said viciously to Shisan Lang: “How about I break a few of your bones right now so you can lie down and try it too?”

After settling Yang Xingjian, Bao Zhu immediately ordered the innkeeper to invite the county’s best physician. After examination, he confirmed it was just an ordinary cold, but Old Yang had endured two months of travel hardships—either suffering torment and abuse from a certain someone or living in constant fear during the pearl theft and murder case. His body had weakened from mental and physical exhaustion, causing the cold to penetrate his bones and making the illness appear extremely severe.

The physician prescribed medicine. Bao Zhu instructed the innkeeper to fetch herbs and brew them, temporarily hired a hard-of-hearing old servant to care for his meals and daily needs, arranging everything very properly.

The Wei Xun martial brothers both thought that such a precious princess, raised by countless people’s devoted care, should naturally be arrogant, domineering, and disdainful of others. She was indeed very skilled at ordering people around, but equally skilled at caring for and looking after others.

The next day, a pattering autumn rain began falling. The rainfall wasn’t heavy, but it made the roads muddy and impassable. Combined with Yang Xingjian’s illness requiring bed rest for gradual recovery, the group could only temporarily stay at the inn, waiting for his recovery and clear weather.

With nothing to do, Bao Zhu called Shisan Lang into her room to lend a hand helping her arrange and comb her hair. Shisan Lang definitely didn’t want to take on this difficult task and tried hard to decline politely: “Though this little monk is young, I am male and moreover a monk—it’s inappropriate to touch Jiu Niang’s skin and hair.”

Bao Zhu snorted disdainfully: “You haven’t undergone the capping ceremony yet—how dare you call yourself a man? Without receiving full ordination, you don’t count as a proper monk either. When your height grows to match mine, then come talk about the separation between men and women!”

The little novice’s attempt to avoid work failed, so he could only roll up his sleeves, clean his hands, and help Bao Zhu arrange her hair.

Holding the satin-like lustrous black strands, he couldn’t help sighing: “Jiu Niang’s hair is truly wonderful—so heavy it weighs down the hand. If cut off, it could sell for over ten strings of cash.”

Hearing this, Bao Zhu was shocked: “What? You people can dismantle someone and sell the parts?”

Shisan Lang laughed: “If you can sell the whole thing, naturally you can sell parts. Hair can be sold, teeth can be sold, skin with beautiful tattoos can also be sold. Some even say that hot human neck blood mixed with steamed cakes can cure coughs—the executioners at Dog’s Ridge all make their living from this secretly.”

Bao Zhu looked at him with alarm and uncertainty, touching her slender neck, thinking that no matter how strapped for cash or dire her circumstances became in the future, she would never sell this beautiful long hair she had treasured since childhood.

With Shisan Lang’s help, she finally managed to arrange her hair into a topknot, but since neither had learned hairdressing skills, this Immortal-Gazing Bun looked rather crooked no matter how you looked at it, lacking any ethereal, graceful feeling and quite unattractive.

Shisan Lang comforted her: “I’ve heard others say that crooked ones are called Fallen Horse Buns—they’re deliberately combed crooked.”

Bao Zhu said indignantly: “I practice archery and riding skills—I never wear Fallen Horse Buns. Too inauspicious.”

No matter how he tried to persuade her, she remained unsatisfied. Shisan Lang was at his wit’s end and could only say: “If not for avoiding impropriety, we really should call senior martial brother to help you comb it. Among all the senior martial brothers and sisters in our school, none are more clever or skillful than him. Even with tasks he’s never done before, he can learn just by watching for a while, and after practicing once, he does better than the master teaching it.”

Bao Zhu said angrily: “Don’t mention impossible things! I’ve never heard of men being able to do ladies’ maid work.”

Seeing she didn’t believe him, Shisan Lang said no more.

Bao Zhu continued looking at herself in the mirror, growing more dissatisfied the more she looked. Thinking it was because the mirror surface was cloudy and unclear, she stood up and ran to the Wei Xun martial brothers’ room, wanting to send him out to find a mirror polisher to brighten it again.

Wei Xun cheerfully agreed verbally but didn’t get up to receive it. Seeing him holding needle and thread, sewing intently with his head down, Bao Zhu walked over in surprise to take a look. She found the fabric in his hands extremely familiar—ivory white with golden yellow printed clustered flower patterns—it was actually the barbarian clothing she had torn when climbing walls in Xiagui County. She was immediately shocked.

The first shock was embarrassment that he was handling and fiddling with clothes she had worn next to her skin. The second shock was because his needle flew like lightning, the stitching even and dense—actually better work than she, who had specifically learned needlework, could do. Feeling ashamed but also inexplicably annoyed.

Even as the most noble princess in the realm, she still had to learn needlework from childhood. Being naturally lively and unable to sit still, she preferred to go out riding and playing polo rather than spend time on such detailed crafting. Her needlework had always been mediocre, and for important occasions she would delegate to trusted female officials as ghostwriters, inevitably feeling guilty. Therefore, Wei Xun’s beautiful needlework made her feel even more sourly envious.

Accumulating shame into anger, Bao Zhu said resentfully: “Even if you mend it, I won’t wear torn clothes.”

Wei Xun’s expression remained calm as he continued sewing with his head down: “Yes, yes, naturally we can’t make the princess compromise. This is being mended for Shisan Lang to wear as winter lined clothing.”

Hearing this, Bao Zhu opened her eyes wide in disbelief, thinking she had misheard: “What? How can you give clothes I’ve worn to a little monk?!”

Wei Xun raised his head and looked at her peacefully: “If I don’t give them to him, they can only be sold to a secondhand clothing shop. Then you’ll never know which stranger ultimately buys and wears them.”

Bao Zhu was shocked by the implied danger in his words, struck speechless and unable to voice further objections. Wei Xun had already finished his stitching, quickly wound the thread twice around and tied a knot, cleanly and efficiently breaking the thread.

Feeling awkward, Bao Zhu didn’t feel comfortable asking more questions. She guessed in her heart that their master had an eccentric and contrary personality and probably had no master’s wife to care for them, so they could only look after themselves from childhood. Being forced to learn such needlework wasn’t particularly strange.

She dropped the bronze mirror and turned to leave, coincidentally encountering the innkeeper at the door about to knock. The man was startled and respectfully inquired: “Is there a young master Wei Xun of the Wei family in this room? A guest has come looking for him.”

Hearing this, Wei Xun looked confused and immediately stood up. He had been traveling as a servant and hadn’t publicly revealed his name, so even the wanted notice in Xiagui County only described a “blue-clothed slave.” After passing Tongguan and arriving in Lingbao County, he hadn’t even left lynx claw marks—what enemy would come calling by name seeking revenge?

He said in a low voice to Bao Zhu: “You should temporarily return to your room and hide…” Before finishing his words, Bao Zhu had already run pattering back to her own room, strung her bow and slung it on her back, then returned aggressively with Shisan Lang following behind, bewildered, carrying her quiver.

Seeing her proud, fierce appearance ready for mass slaughter, Wei Xun couldn’t help laughing and cupped his hands: “Then today I request Jiu Niang to guard the formation and look after Wei Da.”

The three came to the inn’s main hall together. Light rain was pattering outside with no other guests. They saw eight retainers in matching uniforms arranged in two rows standing at the entrance with hands at their sides. A luxurious sedan chair was parked outside the inn, and a middle-aged man dressed as a steward held up a large oiled paper umbrella, helping a young master in brocade and fine clothing down from the sedan.

This person was twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, tall and crane-like in stature, with quite proper features, but extremely arrogant and haughty, his face full of domineering expression. His eyes seemed to wish they could grow on top of his head—clearly a pampered, overbearing young wastrel from a wealthy family.

Getting down from the sedan, this person walked with a strange, measured pace, one step at a time, slowly entering the inn as if his legs had some problem, but he refused to use a cane or let others support him.

Upon seeing Wei Xun, he beamed with joy, immediately cupping his hands in salute and saying loudly: “Brother Wei! Long time no see! You… you seem to have grown much taller.”

Wei Xun stared at him expressionlessly, regretting ever knowing such a loose-tongued fool. Remembering this person was from Jade City with his hometown near Lingbao County, his appearance here wasn’t strange.

He frowned and responded: “Pang Liangji, long time no see—you’re still as annoying as ever.”

The man called Liangji laughed heartily and immediately ordered the innkeeper to serve the most expensive wine and food, wanting to renew old friendships with Wei Xun.

Seeing Wei Xun had no intention of fighting enemies, Bao Zhu glanced at Shisan Lang, who was also completely puzzled and asked: “Senior martial brother, who is this person?”

Seeing the old acquaintance, Wei Xun felt somewhat helplessly weak and told Shisan Lang: “This is Sixth… former Sixth. When he was expelled, you hadn’t entered the school yet.”

Shisan Lang suddenly understood, recalling old school stories he’d heard. Years ago there was a senior martial brother from a wealthy family who, due to his straightforward personality offending Chen Shigu, had both legs broken and was expelled from the school. This must be the disabled young wastrel in fine clothes before them.

Shisan Lang pressed his palms together in salute: “So this is Sixth Senior Martial Brother. This little monk is Shanyuan, ranked thirteenth. My respects.”

Pang Liangji seemed unable to stand for long periods. After chatting briefly, he leaned on the table and reluctantly sat down. His steward immediately had servants bring out wine vessels from their own supplies, bustling about warming wine to moisten his throat.

Pang Liangji said carelessly: “I was wondering—the informant told me there was a short young man with a shaved head. I was puzzling over whether senior martial brother really hadn’t grown an inch in all these years.”

Wei Xun looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath to endure, calculating how he could kick this person flying into the mud outside without causing serious injury.

Pang Liangji asked again: “Does the little monk have a jianghu nickname?”

Shisan Lang shook his head embarrassedly: “When master passed away, I hadn’t yet completed my apprenticeship.”

Pang Liangji said lightly: “It’s better not to have one. When I was young, my nickname was ‘Swift Wind Guardian.’ Now that my legs are broken, I can’t change it, and when others call it out, it sounds like they’re deliberately mocking me.”

Seeing Bao Zhu carrying bow and arrows, thinking she was also from the jianghu, he asked: “You must be the legendary young lady who captured the blue-robed man alive?”

Bao Zhu felt this wastrel’s speech was improper and didn’t want to pay attention, turning her head to look elsewhere with arrogance.

Wei Xun answered Pang Liangji casually: “Yes. Are you here to rescue me or what? If you have something to say, say it quickly.”

Hearing this, Pang Liangji was also startled, then remembered that this young senior martial brother had been rebellious since childhood, speaking without taboos, unlike other jianghu people who were desperately concerned with face. Such casual jokes shouldn’t be taken seriously.

He indeed had serious business here, and time was urgent with no time for more small talk. Pang Liangji said seriously: “Pang will soon marry his beloved. I’ve come today to invite Brother Wei to attend my wedding and serve as the groom’s best man.”