When Lin Fei decided to give birth to Gao Dalang’s child, she had already relinquished the identity of the Earl of Guangping’s mistress — she had even, in a sense, relinquished her identity as a woman of the Lin Clan. Her intention had been to let the identity of “Lin Fei” “die” in the awareness of Yunjing society.

Yet the final outcome was far better than anyone had expected.

By the time Lin Fei had been abducted, Lin Zi and Yang Changyuan had both already resigned themselves to the likelihood that this marriage would end.

This was because whether or not Lin Fei had preserved her chastity had no bearing on whether she and Gao Dalang had been as husband and wife, or whether she was with child. From the moment she was carried off by Gao Dalang, by this world’s moral standards for women, she was already a woman who had lost her chastity.

Yang Changyuan certainly admired her courage and integrity, but inwardly he also resented her for that leap into the Si River — why could she not simply have died then? Or if she had later died in the south, that too would have been perfectly acceptable.

As for the Yang family matriarch, though she had been kept in the dark until the very end and never learned the true truth of things — she was no simpleton, having spent many years as a noble lady of high standing and having witnessed untold secrets and intrigues of the inner household. She had long harbored her own suspicions, which, while not matching reality exactly, did not prevent her from deeply hoping that her second son’s new wife might soon “die of her illness.”

Yet Yang Huaishen was stubborn. He persisted in using “recuperating from illness” as a cover for Lin Fei, sheltering her and preserving a way back for her, hoping that one day he might find her again and bring her home.

But as the saying goes, nine times out of ten things in this world do not go as one wishes. Even when all you have done is good and right, even when you are a good person — even a deeply devoted, formidably strong person — you may still be abandoned by someone else, and left without a perfect ending.

Though there was an unexpected child that nobody had counted on, the affair had ultimately concluded in this manner, and both Lin Zi and Yang Changyuan were satisfied. The two of them had originally formed their alliance because of the marriage between their families, but now that the alliance was established, Yang Changyuan genuinely had a high regard for Lin Zi and had no wish to break with the Lin Clan of the Jiang East. Though somewhat dissatisfied in his heart, since his own son bore no grudge, he pressed his feelings down. After all, matters between young people were never as important as the great affairs of the world.

As it turned out, Lin Fei herself petitioned for separation, and Lin Zi also put forward a plan to resolve the matter gracefully. In the end it could be called a solution that satisfied all parties.

Even the Yang family matriarch had to press a handkerchief to the corners of her eyes in public and sigh over what a fine daughter-in-law she had had, regrettable only that her health was poor and she had no fate with the Yang family — she hoped only that the girl would recover soon and find a good match elsewhere.

Then she turned around and began looking for a new wife for Yang Huaishen.

Yang Huaishen said indifferently, “Whatever Mother thinks is good.”

The foolish boy who had once waited two years for Lin Fei and then fought his way to the battlefield of Mobei just to earn the right to marry the woman he loved — now everything had changed, and he was willing to let family decide.

The Yang family matriarch sighed on one count and rejoiced on another.

But all of this was yet to come. For now, at the end of the first southern campaign, a new wave of military meritocrats rose in Yunjing, along with some other personnel shifts.

Lin Zi was still a Vice Minister, but he transferred from the Ministry of Rites to the Ministry of Personnel — another step closer to the center of power.

In the ninth month, a Censorate official impeached Chief Minister Zhang Gong for forcibly seizing the Huichun Plain on the south side of Yunjing, appropriating for private use the beauty of all four seasons and robbing the common people of their pleasures.

The Huichun Plain was an ancient plateau on the south side of Yunjing — the highest terrain in all of Yunjing. Each year when spring arrived, while the rest of Yunjing still held a bite of chill, the Huichun Plain was already putting out flower buds, the first to welcome the season. It had always been a beloved destination for the people of Yunjing.

And there was one more subtlety to the matter.

Theoretically, the tallest structure in all of Yunjing was the imperial palace, and no other building was permitted to be taller. But the Huichun Plain was a plateau, lying so close to Yunjing — just to the city’s south — that it already looked down over the entire capital by sheer elevation alone. Any building erected upon it would therefore look down upon the imperial palace as well.

The last person to occupy the Huichun Plain and build his own garden there had been a powerful imperial in-law. That imperial in-law had sidelined the young Emperor and built his family’s garden on the high plateau, looking down upon the imperial palace. Later, when the young Emperor came of age, that imperial in-law fell from power, and the Emperor had his own maternal relatives slaughtered to the last and had the garden on the Huichun Plain — which had covertly scorned the imperial authority — demolished.

The common people, denied access to the plateau for so many years, poured up the ancient plain in spring, savoring the season that had been occupied by the imperial in-law for so long. Many poets left lines that would endure through the ages, mocking the in-law for his overreach in trying to monopolize the light of spring.

That had been over a hundred years ago. From then until the fall of the Zhao dynasty, no powerful figure had occupied the Huichun Plain again.

And now, with the change of dynasties, the ambitions of the powerful had stirred once more.

Yet the impeachment of Zhang Gong could only cite the appropriation of the common people’s pleasures — the subtler implications lurking beneath the surface could not be voiced openly.

Li Gu came to know this story from over a hundred years ago because Imperial Tutor Mo had told it to him.

Li Gu had not known this history, but the moment he heard it, he understood everything. He gave a cold laugh and ordered the relevant authorities to investigate.

Zhang Gong was also conducting his own investigation, and the results were extremely simple: the censor had Lin Zi behind him. Zhang Gong relaxed and laughed mockingly to himself: “The Lin family boy…”

The Lin family boy was no threat to him. Only since the matter had been brought before the Emperor, the garden on the Huichun Plain would certainly not be allowed to continue — something of a vexation. Zhang Gong was unconcerned; he was well-practiced in handling such things. He pushed a nephew forward to take the blame, then appeared before the Emperor to apologize, acknowledging that he had failed to properly discipline the younger members of his family.

The Emperor ordered Zhang Gong to halt construction of the garden estate.

But the matter did not conclude as Zhang Gong had expected it to. For in the course of the investigation, the relevant authorities turned up an additional matter tied to Zhang Gong’s steward — namely, that the steward had bullied the villagers in the surrounding area and beaten one of them to death. This matter had previously been suppressed by the Zhang Family, and now it was dug up again.

Zhang Gong found Lin Zi more than a little tiresome. In his eyes, these small thrusts and jabs from the Lin family boy were incapable of drawing real blood or shaking anything of substance — merely an annoyance.

To demonstrate a stance before the Emperor, Zhang Gong handed that steward over to the relevant authorities and declared with righteous indignation that he demanded the harshest punishment.

What Zhang Gong had not reckoned with was that the matters in front — the Huichun Plain, the bullying of villagers — were merely Lin Zi’s way of drawing his attention, and that neither was the true objective. What Lin Zi truly wanted was that steward alone.

Once in prison, the steward was subjected to interrogation. The questions had nothing to do with the Huichun Plain or the persecution of the villagers. Understanding that the stakes were great, the steward gritted his teeth at first, but under the ordeal of torture he finally confessed.

A confession bearing his seal and handprint was delivered before Li Gu.

In the latter part of the fifth month of the fourth year of the Kaiyuan era: persons with accents from the Jiang South had been seen entering and leaving the Zhang Residence.

In the sixth month of the fourth year of the Kaiyuan era: in a secluded courtyard within the rear quarters of the Zhang Residence, people had continuously been sent to deliver three meals a day in quantities suggesting more than ten able-bodied men.

On the nineteenth day of the sixth month of the fourth year of the Kaiyuan era: more than ten persons departed the residence in succession; the steward had arranged horses and provisions for them, and these persons left through the Golden Light Gate heading west.

On the nineteenth day of the sixth month of the fourth year of the Kaiyuan era, Li Gu had gone to the Luo Garden on the western mountain to visit Xie Yuzhang and departed in haste the following morning. That same night, Gao Dalang had infiltrated the Luo Garden and, mistakenly abducting the wrong person, had carried off Lin Fei instead.

Li Gu set down the confession, raised his eyes, and said, “Hu Jin!”

In the years since ascending the throne, the new Emperor had tolerated these old partisans of Yunjing far too long — it was time to clear them out.

That day, Hu Jin, Commander of the Imperial Guard, led the Golden Shield Guards to surround the Chief Minister Zhang Gong’s residence.

Zhang Gong finally realized something was wrong. But Hu Jin gave him no time to react, and stormed directly into the study, taking control of all persons in the residence.

The men of Hexi always acted with a crude directness. Hu Jin made no effort to search; he simply had his men dismantle the study. They dismantled the writing desk, the bookshelves, the vases — even the walls. Using the most direct of methods, they found the concealed hidden recess within the study, and uncovered the evidence the Emperor required.

Among the old partisans of Yunjing, a great many had once placed bets on all sides. Those who had managed to secure a foothold in the new dynasty were none of them simple people. If one were to investigate thoroughly, even Xie Yuzhang’s maternal uncle Yang Changyuan would not emerge clean.

But Li Gu was fully aware of this, and had no intention of pursuing the old affairs that predated his entering Yunjing.

Yet, after he entered Yunjing — for anyone to go on maintaining connections with the south was something he could not and would not tolerate.

Zhang Gong had not anticipated that he would fall over this particular matter.

He was not the only person in Yunjing who had once had dealings with the Gao Clan. But he was the one with the greatest power, and Gao Dalang, arriving, had gone directly to him. Zhang Gong had had no choice but to swallow his distaste and provide assistance.

He had not expected that Lin Zi had been watching him the entire time.

The residence of Chief Minister Zhang, which had shone with power and prominence for two dynasties and three rulers across so many years, came crashing down. From the top downward, the faction aligned with Minister Zhang was purged in a clean sweep.

With the combined efforts of Lin Zi, Imperial Tutor Mo, and Yang Changyuan’s faction working together, the officialdom of Yunjing was reshuffled anew.

After two years of transition, Li Gu elevated Imperial Tutor Mo to Chief Minister.

Yang Changyuan became the leader of the former partisans.

And for the Lin Family — their great vendetta was avenged.

At this time Lin Fei was living in a residence outside the city, awaiting the birth of her child. Lin Zi went especially to tell her the news.

Lin Fei’s brow, drawn tight with tension, finally eased: “I always knew this day would come.”

From the day after the Xiaoyao Marquisate fell — from the moment Lin Zi had shared that cup of wine with her — she had known that for the great matter of exacting vengeance, her elder brother, in truth, needed no help from her.

As for Xie Yuzhang — she no longer needed her either. She was capable of navigating all quarters on her own.

There had been a time when Lin Fei felt deeply at a loss. Day after day she had been a capable wife, a mistress praised by all — this was exactly what her education since childhood had prepared her for, so that one day she might become the matriarch of the Gao Clan’s main household. Managing the Earl of Guangping’s Residence, with only two masters to look after, had been remarkably easy.

But inwardly, Lin Fei could find no direction.

Until Gao Dalang appeared, and at last she had the chance to live by her own convictions. Had she simply ended her life in the Si River that day, a Lin family woman would have left the word “valiant” for the world to remember her by — and perhaps that would not have been so bad, either.

But she had not died. And people who do not die no longer wish to die.

With her intelligence, it had been no great feat to hold that simpleton in check — it was simply that she refused to suffer humiliation.

As for the so-called “purity” people spoke of — the moment she was abducted, it had already vanished from the world’s eyes. Lin Fei knew perfectly well that even if she returned spotlessly clean, she could never go back to being the Earl of Guangping’s mistress as before. Everything would be different.

Day after day she watched that simpleton. He lived with such abandon — a hot-blooded, bold abandon.

Yet she knew his death was imminent. Every time he laughed, every act of abandon and arrogance, in her eyes was nothing but a dying man’s last revelry.

At last there came a day when she too wanted to taste that abandon. For in her entire life, she had almost never experienced such unrestrained freedom.

Xie Yuzhang had asked her whether she loved the father of the child she carried, and she had not answered.

She knew she liked Gao Dalang — the abandon that burned through this man’s bones was genuinely captivating. She could acknowledge that she liked him, but as for love… Lin Fei had no answer.

She had known the future, had known this man’s appointed time of death. She had watched with cold eyes, never revealing a single word of it to him.

This, then, was her particular form of liking — racing the god of death to steal borrowed time, indulging in that brief pleasure, and then watching him go to his death.

Perhaps it was not quite the same as what the common world called “liking.” But this was, undeniably, Lin Fei’s way of liking.

This reckless span of time continued until the high gates of the Gao family compound that had held her captive for a year were broken through, and her husband walked in, holding a bloodied sword.

By then her abdomen had already rounded visibly, leaving no doubt that she was with child. Her husband stared at that belly for a long while, then sheathed his sword and said: “I have slain Gao Dalang. A’Fei, come home with me.”

But Lin Fei had no wish whatsoever to return to Yunjing. She had already thoroughly ceased to want to be “Lin Fei” any longer.

“Let me go,” she said. “Let Lin Shi Fei Niang die in Yunjing — this is the best way to resolve it.”

But Yang Huaishen would not hear of it.

That very evening, he brought a bowl of medicine: “Drink this. Get rid of the child.”

He said: “I know you had no choice. I forgive you.”

Lin Fei smiled.

Because everything was exactly as she had foreseen. Even if she had not been with child, even if she and Gao Dalang had never been truly intimate — no one would have believed it. Even though Yang Huaishen loved her, he had already, from the moment she was abducted, taken her dishonor as a given.

Only because he loved her, he could forgive her.

To return to Yunjing and become Lin Fei again, to become the Earl of Guangping’s mistress again — would mean living the rest of her life beneath his forgiveness.

Lin Fei had already made her choice in life the moment she allowed herself to savor that reckless freedom. As the price of that freedom, she would lose her husband and lose her identity.

This child had not been in the plan, but the child was something she had claimed for herself. She was willing to become a mother, and to love this child.

But she had no way to leave, and was brought back to Yunjing all the same.

Her entire life she had been excessively strict with herself. When at last she set everything down and wished to live with a little more abandon — Xie Yuzhang and Lin Zi moved to make it possible, so that she was still able to retain her identity, and have a place where she could belong.

Lin Zi said, “It is all thanks to your dream.”

Bringing down Zhang Gong had been a process of reasoning backward from a known result. Starting with knowledge of the outcome, they had worked to hypothesize the possible causes that produced it. With that overarching direction as a guide, they had then gone in search of evidence.

Of course, the leveraging of other forces had been crucial.

Imperial Tutor Mo had cultivated his reputation for decades. In the time of the late Emperor of the former Zhao, he had been repeatedly invited to enter court service and had each time declined, content to preside over the Chengjing Academy and teach his students. Now, holding hope in the new Emperor, he wished to enter government and give full play to his ambitions.

Being the Emperor’s tutor was not the same as truly entering government. He needed to stand on the stage of power. He needed someone to vacate a seat.

Yang Changyuan had been locked in overt and covert struggle with Zhang Gong. The trajectory of the Yang family made him unwilling to remain subordinate to Zhang Gong and suffer under his suppression any longer.

The alliance formed out of common interest was firm and stable — not even the dissolution of Lin Fei and Yang Huaishen’s marriage could shake it.

And so they had finally arrived at this day.

At this point, the course of events had gradually diverged from what Xie Yuzhang had known in her previous life — and was moving further and further away.