Yunjing’s spring came far earlier than Mobei’s. By the third month, the people of Yunjing had already changed into the thin clothing of spring.

In the courtyard, Xie Baozhu wore a simple pale-green jacket and skirt. The sleeves were narrow, and the hem reached only to her ankles.

She had just picked up the flat-topped bamboo hat from the stone table when someone came in through the gate.

The newcomer was a middle-aged man with a trim beard. He wore a deep blue figured-silk long robe and had a young manservant behind him carrying a large food hamper. His manner and bearing made him look like a prosperous gentleman of means.

Seeing Xie Baozhu’s attire, he smiled and asked: “Young Miss, off to the fields again?”

“Uncle Eighth, don’t call me that,” Xie Baozhu’s eyes curved upward in a smile. “I can’t help worrying if I don’t check on things every day — the seedlings have already come up.”

The middle-aged man addressed as Uncle Eighth smiled warmly: “Off you go then, off you go — do bring someone with you.”

“I will,” Xie Baozhu said. “Erzi is coming with me.”

Erzi stood beside Xie Baozhu — a powerfully built maidservant. The sort who, in the old days, could not have gotten through the door of Prince Shou’s residence even as a kitchen girl.

The middle-aged man sighed inwardly.

Hearing their voices, the window of the main room opened, and a plump, round face appeared: “Uncle Eighth, you’re here!”

It was customary in those times to use birth date and month as a nickname or even a formal name. This middle-aged man had been born on the eighth day of the eighth month, so his childhood name was Baba.

He looked over and sighed: “You’ve gotten rounder again. Eat less.”

This round figure was Prince Shou.

After the upheaval, Xie Baozhu had felt that Yunjing was no longer safe and had asked the family to take up long residence at their western mountain retreat. As it turned out, she had been right.

Huang Yungong’s men had roamed brazenly through Yunjing, harassing wealthy families and even noble households — many had suffered for it.

Prince Shou’s family had hidden in the mountain retreat, trembling with anxiety, and had not returned to Yunjing until Li Gu took the city.

Li Gu, though he had not entered the city himself, had issued an order to place the Xie imperial family under confinement. The actual task of rounding everyone up and mopping up loose ends had, of course, fallen to Li Weifeng.

Prince Shou’s family had been sheltering in the western mountain retreat, but their household still needed supplies brought in regularly. When Li Weifeng’s men searched through the name lists for members of the Xie clan, they eventually traced Prince Shou’s household, and his servants gave away the family’s location.

Prince Shou’s family was brought from the western mountain retreat and placed under confinement here with the others.

The place had originally been a village abandoned during the fighting. It was now renamed “Xie Family Village” and designated for the settlement of the Xie imperial family.

The surrounding farmland was distributed among the households according to their numbers. Beyond this, members of the imperial family received a monthly allowance — even those who did not farm could survive. None of these nobility and imperial clansmen had any idea how to work the land, and most, following the guidance of those who managed things centrally, had leased their plots out to tenant farmers.

Prince Shou’s land had been leased out as well, except that Xie Baozhu had kept a small plot for herself to tend.

Because Prince Shou had once held the rank of a first-rank prince, his monthly allowance was somewhat higher than other households, and he was somewhat better off than the rest. He could afford silk robes, kept one or two maids hired from nearby villages, and had two or three servants in the household.

Compared to the truly common people, it was already far better.

But to Prince Shou, who had once tasted the full richness of worldly splendor, this life as a country gentleman was deeply sorrowful and oppressive.

He was miserable and had nothing to do, so he simply ate and ate, all day long. Little by little, he had transformed from a handsome, distinguished-looking man into a great round ball of a person.

Qiu Baba was Prince Shou’s milk brother — raised by the same wet nurse. Before the fall of the Great Zhao, he had served as the head steward of Prince Shou’s residence.

He sighed: “Eat less.” How carefully Prince Shou had once minded his health and looked after his figure.

Prince Shou said: “What else is there to do? What did you bring?”

Qiu Baba said: “What you like — pastries from Chen’s.”

Prince Shou said: “Wonderful! Bring them here.”

Qiu Baba sighed: “Alas.”

Xie Baozhu listened to the two of them going back and forth, then put on her bamboo hat.

This hat was a flat, round one with a hole in the center. Slipped down over the head, it sat just above the hair bun, held in place by a hairpin pushed through. At each ear there were small hooks, and Xie Baozhu hung a panel of fine linen cloth from them. When she looked up, only her eyes were visible — the cloth concealed her fine features.

Prince Shou called to her: “Don’t go too far. Erzi, watch over her — if she starts sweating, wipe it off right away. Don’t let her catch a chill.”

Erzi answered in her blunt, loud way.

Xie Baozhu shouldered her hoe: “I’m off.” She went out through the gate with Erzi.

Prince Shou called after her: “Come back when the sun gets strong — you can’t take the heat.”

Qiu Baba went into the room and opened the food hamper, taking out the pastries for Prince Shou.

Prince Shou ate them with an expression of pure delight.

“When I used to eat them before, I never thought much of them,” he said, crumbs of pastry dotting his lips. “Now that I eat them again, I realize how truly wonderful their craft is. For thin, flaky crusts and delicate fillings, no one comes close. It’s maddening — we can’t even go out without filing a report and registering, and their shop is the sort where even having money doesn’t guarantee you can get anything if you come too late.”

Chen’s was the finest pastry shop in Yunjing. Their goods were supplied primarily to noble households, with only a small quantity put out for sale in the shop — go too late, and there was nothing left.

Prince Shou’s household had once been among their dedicated large clients. Now, just wanting to eat one batch of their pastries had become a rare occasion.

Prince Shou ate with great enjoyment and asked: “And how are things with you — did you manage to keep your position as steward?”

“I held on to it,” Qiu Baba said. “The new mistress wanted to replace me with someone from her own dowry household, but the lord would not allow it. Now the lord has set up a separate residence, and all of us have moved there with him. The original house has been left entirely to the mistress.”

Prince Shou said: “Having her as your mistress is misfortune enough for you. It’s fortunate your new employer has some sense.”

Qiu Baba said: “Yes, he appears unreliable at a glance but actually has a clear head about things. Alas, also an unlucky situation all around.”

Qiu Baba added: “The young miss’s health keeps improving.”

Prince Shou said: “Don’t call her that carelessly — do you want to get us all killed?”

Qiu Baba said: “I keep forgetting to change how I address her.”

Prince Shou said: “Look at the color in her face now. If her mother could see this, I wonder what she’d think. Before, she was kept indoors every day and not allowed out — maids and servants watching over her so carefully, treating every little thing with such precision — and yet the girl was always frail and sickly. And now? She’s out here every day shouldering a hoe and working the fields, and her health gets better day by day. Alas…”

He asked: “How is the city these days? How is my elder brother?”

“Same as ever,” Qiu Baba said. “I hear he’s not eating well — spends all his time making pills and elixirs. The third son is drinking every day, drunk from morning to night.”

“Truly blind to their own fortune,” Prince Shou said with displeasure. “Their allowance at the Xiaoyao Marquis’s estate is far better than ours here. I’ve even thought of going to live with them, but Da Hu won’t allow it.”

Qiu Baba cried: “Heavens — don’t! Listen to Da Hu!”

Xie Family Village was surrounded by the nearby farmland, forming a defined perimeter. The access roads were guarded by soldiers at checkpoints. If any of the Xie family wished to pass outside this perimeter, they were required to file a report and register their destination — where they were going, who they were meeting, what they were doing, and when they would return. If anyone left and did not come back, many others would be held responsible.

Xie Baozhu walked out of the village and encountered the soldiers on their patrol round. She greeted them: “Elder Brother Zhao, Elder Brother Luo!”

The soldiers smiled and greeted her in return: “Da Niang Xie.”

One of them said: “Da Niang Xie, the courier is coming in two days — I want to write a letter home. Can I come find you this afternoon?”

Xie Baozhu said: “Of course.”

The soldiers all laughed, because “of course” was a dialect expression from their home province, not the formal Yunjing speech — and Xie Baozhu had said it deliberately.

After she had gone past, the soldiers murmured among themselves: “I wonder what she looks like — beautiful or not?”

“How could she not be beautiful? She has to be.”

“But you’ve never actually seen her.”

“I haven’t seen her, but I can guess. Hey, I heard she used to be a commandery princess. It’s a pity she always wears that face covering.”

Then the same man said: “What if we pretend to be clumsy and accidentally pull her face covering off for a look?”

“Best not — Da Niang Xie is delicate. She’s not like the girls back home, stronger than any of us. What if we frighten her?”

“Get out of here! Taking advantage of a helpless woman — what kind of man does that? I’ll beat you senseless!”

Xie Baozhu walked to the edge of the field and stood there catching her breath, leaning on her hoe for a moment.

“Da Niang did better today than yesterday — walked all the way here without stopping,” Erzi said happily.

Xie Baozhu was pleased too. She took the cloth Erzi handed her and wiped the sweat from her face. She looked out over the surrounding ridges of farmland, the yellow earth with its sprouts of green just breaking through, and felt a particular lightness of heart.

“Back then I was kept indoors every day and made to rest — I never imagined there would be a day like this,” she said, moved.

Erzi grumbled: “Was that any way for a person to live? Never running, never jumping? If your health was poor, the answer was to move around more. Da Niang, if you’d been born in our village, you’d have been raised strong and lively from the start.”

Xie Baozhu smiled. She said: “Erzi, you don’t know — back then someone read my fortune and said I wouldn’t live past twenty-five.”

“Bah, bah, bah! Twenty-five is nearly now! Da Niang, don’t say such things!”

“It is nearly now,” Xie Baozhu said. “Erzi, do you think I’ll live past twenty-five?”

Erzi said fiercely: “You come to the fields with me every day — of course you will!”

The spring wind lifted the thin linen cloth, and Xie Baozhu’s beautiful, phoenix-shaped eyes curved into a smile.

“Yes,” she said. “I think so too.”

The great river stretched across the land from east to west, dividing the Central Plains into north and south.

The Great Mu dynasty now commanded the northern half. Li Gu’s enemies had all retreated south of the river.

The factions south of the river had, naturally, cut off the northward transport of grain. But desperate smugglers were never in short supply.

While Xie Yuzhang was fracturing the Khanate, Chen Liangzhi had broken open a secret trade route south of the river.

Grain was quietly transported to the northern bank, greatly easing the food crisis in the north.

Heads had rolled over it, of course — but profits had been made as well. And as long as there were profits to be had, the great landowning clans of the south, sitting atop their countless granaries, would dare to take the risk.

News of the Khanate’s fracture arrived in Yunjing. With it came a secret envoy from the grasslands.

“A secret envoy?” Li Gu was working through memorials, not looking up. “Who sent them?”

The officer of the Directorate of Geomancy replied: “The person refuses to say. He insists on a personal audience with Your Majesty — but he carries a token.”

Li Gu gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment, dipped his brush: “What is it?”

The officer replied: “A dagger. He says Your Majesty gave it to him in years past.”

A large drop of ink fell from the brush and spread across the memorial, staining it.

Li Gu finally looked up.

The officer said: “General He, who commands the northern border garrison, came from your side — he recognized the dagger and confirmed that it had indeed once been among your personal effects. Not daring to treat this lightly, he sent the man under escort to Yunjing at urgent relay speed.”

Li Gu asked: “Where is the dagger?”

The officer raised both hands to present a small box.

Hu Jin had already strode quickly across the room to open the box and take out the dagger.

Looking at that dagger — so familiar from those past years — Hu Jin’s feelings were genuinely complicated. Back then, when the dagger had been given away, the box it was packed in had been the one he had spent half the day running up and down the street to select.

Hu Jin turned and presented the dagger, placing it on the imperial writing table.

Li Gu stared at that black-handled dagger. The fish-skin sheath had grown somewhat worn and cracked — a sign of constant carrying close to the body. It needed a new sheath.

Li Gu reached out and picked up the dagger. A sharp hiss as it left the sheath, and a chill swept toward him. The blade had not grown dull — it had been kept and sharpened well, the edges bright as two lines of snow.

Li Gu sheathed the dagger and stood: “Where is the person?”

Li Gu went in person to the Directorate of Geomancy’s offices to see the envoy.

The man saw Li Gu and his face filled with startled joy. He fell into a deep bow: “General!”

Then corrected himself: “Your Majesty!”

Li Gu studied his face carefully and called out his name with precision: “Li A’da.”

If Fuchun had been present, he and Li Yong would have found a great deal in common — the Emperor actually remembered his name.

At this moment, Li Yong could not dream of saying anything like “I go by Li Yong now.” He immediately nodded with the vigor of a pestle grinding grain and claimed the name: “Yes, yes! Your Majesty still remembers me!”

The name “Li A’da” — once spoken — had even pulled out the word “me” in rural dialect.

Li Gu stared at him and asked: “Does she have a letter?”

“Yes!” Li Yong said. “It’s in this humble one’s collar!”

Li Yong stripped to his bare torso on the spot. Hu Jin took his inner robe, cut open the collar, and retrieved Xie Yuzhang’s letter.

Li Gu held the paper without opening it. First he asked: “Is she well?”

Here it was.

Li Yong raised his eyes.

“The Princess is well. She says that if Your Majesty should ask, I am to tell Your Majesty: she now has money, people, and a blade — and can protect herself.” Li Yong said.

Li Gu said: “If?”

“Yes, yes!” Li Yong nodded, rubbing his hands together. “The Princess said: years have passed, and things and people change. If Your Majesty does not ask, there is no need to mention it further.”

His expression was a picture of guilelessness and awkward self-consciousness — a perfect rendering of a country bumpkin meeting an Emperor for the first time. And with the fine-grained observational instincts he had been born with, he caught the flicker of emotion that passed through the Emperor’s eyes.

Years later, when Li Yong looked back on this moment, he would think: the pinnacle of his acting in this life had likely been this one day, before the Emperor.

【Li Yong, he will certainly ask.】

【Tell him this way — say that I said…】

【After saying that, tell him I said that if he does not ask…】

【Li Yong, of all our people, you are the only one who can manage this.】

【What tone to use, what expression to wear — use your own judgment.】