Time seemed to freeze in that moment. When Mu Chun came to his senses, Hu Shanwei had almost reached the military camp’s gate.
Mu Chun vaulted over the railing, jumped down from the fighting platform, and ran to chase Hu Shanwei, shouting loudly: “Shanwei—”
He was about to say “Sister,” but remembering this was the infamous Eagle Guard, full of teenage troublemakers covered in pimples, willful and impulsive, who thought about women whenever they had nothing to do, he swallowed the word “Sister” and called out instead: “Brother Shanwei! Wait for me!”
Of course Hu Shanwei wouldn’t acknowledge him.
Eagle Guard had no one standing watch, so Hu Shanwei smoothly passed through the main gate. Just as she was about to board her carriage, Mu Chun came flying over like an unleashed hunting hound, firmly grasping her wrist.
“Let go.” Hu Shanwei didn’t turn around, not wanting to see his bare-chested, pants-sagging, dissolute appearance.
Mu Chun always listened to Sister Shanwei most. He quickly released her hand and hurriedly explained: “Things aren’t what you saw. I’m not that kind of person. In a cesspit like Eagle Guard, even a piece of gold has to disguise itself as a pickled radish, becoming the same as them. Otherwise, they won’t respect me at all—they’ll think I’m just here to pad my resume.”
“Is going along with corruption the only path available? You’re clearly making excuses!” Though Hu Shanwei was an unmarried woman who, in worldly terms, was already a twenty-year-old “old maid,” she remained innocent about matters between men and women. Today she was truly frightened by Mu Chun’s words and behavior, feeling that even the hand grasping her wrist was dirty.
“How could I go along with corruption!” Mu Chun said: “I have to be even more corrupt and shameless than them to control them—at least on the surface I must appear so.”
In her fury, Hu Shanwei didn’t want to talk to him. She boarded the carriage and urged the driver: “Let’s go.”
In his desperation, Mu Chun again grabbed her wrist. At that moment, the driver cracked his whip and the carriage moved forward. Under Mu Chun’s pull, Hu Shanwei lost her footing at the carriage door and immediately fell backward!
The driver was alarmed, but it was too late to stop the carriage.
Hu Shanwei fell from the cart shaft, but didn’t hit the ground—she landed in Mu Chun’s arms, her left cheek pressed tightly against his chest that emanated a mixture of sweat, faint blood, earthy arena dust, and some indescribable youthful scent, like the moist smell of grassland after light rain.
When Mu Chun had chased after her, he hadn’t had time to put on his shirt, or even to pull up his pants and tighten his belt. Now Shanwei’s hand happened to be caught in the deep dimple between his waist and hips, her five fingertips able to feel the muscles at his hip suddenly tense, hard as iron.
Hu Shanwei was absolutely furious. She stood up and slapped him across the face. Still not satisfied, she pushed both palms against his chest. Mu Chun fell to the ground like a rag doll, limp and soft, as if his soul had been drained, leaving only a shell to be slaughtered at will.
When Centurion Shi arrived carrying the shirt he’d pulled from the archery target, he only saw a carriage speeding away and Master Mu lying on the road with a dazed expression.
“Someone help! There’s an assassin!” Centurion Shi shouted loudly.
Unfortunately, the Eagle Guard soldiers ignored him, thinking that an assassin had come at just the right time—it would be perfect if they stabbed eighteen bloody holes in the shameless Master Mu.
Centurion Shi helped Mu Chun up and draped the shirt over him. Just as he was about to fasten the left chest tie, Mu Chun pushed his hands away: “Don’t touch my chest.”
The place where Sister Shanwei’s face had just pressed—how could anyone else touch it?
Centurion Shi was puzzled: “Palace Rectifier Hu did this? How come Master Mu couldn’t even beat Palace Rectifier Hu? Who would have thought Palace Rectifier was a martial arts master!”
Mu Chun said: “Quickly get me a horse. I need to chase after Sister Shanwei.”
Eagle Guard was located in a remote area with only one straight road, so it wasn’t difficult for Mu Chun to chase the carriage on horseback. He rode alongside the carriage compartment, chattering incessantly: “Sister Shanwei, military camps are just like this. You and I are confidants—I don’t want to lie to you, so I’m telling the truth. The truth sounds harsh, but I’m unwilling to deceive you.”
Inside the carriage, Hu Shanwei said nothing, only wiping her left cheek with a handkerchief, nearly rubbing the skin raw, yet that scent from Mu Chun’s body lingered like a haunting spirit.
Outside the window, Mu Chun continued: “Living in this world is about cultivating different masks. There are gentle and obedient ones, polite and refined ones, and also fierce and vulgar ones. In different situations, you must wear the appropriate mask to protect yourself. Just like the Buddhas in temples—some have kind and gentle faces, while others have wrathful expressions. Everyone performs their duty and serves their purpose. Sister Shanwei, don’t you think so?”
Mu Chun’s eloquence had improved greatly this past month. Hu Shanwei poured some cold tea onto her handkerchief and continued wiping her face.
Mu Chun continued: “Sister Shanwei, you were just frightened by one of my masks, but I am still me. I’ve changed my shell, but the soul inside hasn’t changed. You must believe me.”
I don’t believe you!
Hu Shanwei ignored him. Mu Chun shamelessly continued following alongside the carriage. When they passed a certain jewelry shop, he suddenly remembered something.
Ah, I’ve been so busy these days that I forgot to retrieve that item!
With that thing, my relationship with Sister Shanwei should still be salvageable!
Inside the carriage, Hu Shanwei changed back into her female official’s robes, put on her black silk cap, and tidied herself. By the window, there were no longer sounds of horse hooves or Mu Chun’s chatter.
Hu Shanwei felt an inexplicable sense of loss. When they met again in the future, they would probably just be familiar strangers.
In the end, she was still alone. What confidants, what friends—none of it existed.
The driver stopped at the Embroidered Uniform Guard office. Hu Shanwei paid the fare and entered the office.
Ji Gang had already brought over documents from various post stations from the neighboring Transmission Office. Hu Shanwei copied out every post station location where Liu Siyan had stopped, marking them all on a map with red ink to form a winding route, annotating arrival and departure times on small paper slips.
From the post station movements, it appeared that Liu Siyan’s group of over seventy people had taken twenty-seven days to travel from Nanjing to the southwest. Due to harsh weather including heavy summer rains, they had stayed approximately two extra days at five different post stations, departing when the weather cleared.
So they had actually taken only seventeen days to reach Xi’an—this speed was considered fast. Liu Siyan hadn’t stopped along the way to sightsee or visit relatives and friends. Everything was focused on completing the book-bestowing mission with single-minded dedication.
Just as Shanggong Cao had said, Liu Siyan was a careful, cautious person who handled affairs properly. Even though before departure, jealous of Hu Shanwei’s rapid two-level promotion upon entering the palace, she had made some snide remarks and deliberately embarrassed her at the drinking table, Liu Siyan had taken Hu Shanwei’s entrusted task to heart and never relaxed for a moment.
Looking at the route on the map, Hu Shanwei suddenly felt respect for Liu Siyan, with whom she hadn’t interacted much.
After clarifying the outbound journey, she began sorting through the return trip. From news sent by Prince Qin’s mansion, Liu Siyan’s group had received warm hospitality. Prince Qin and the Princess kept them in Xi’an for three days, touring all the local famous sites and historic places.
Xi’an was the ancient capital of thirteen dynasties, much larger than Nanjing. After three days of sightseeing, Liu Siyan’s group left Xi’an on the eighth day of the eighth month—Empress Ma’s birthday—and began their return journey.
Prince Qin and Princess Qin personally saw them off and entrusted Liu Siyan with generous gifts for the emperor and empress to show their filial devotion, filling twenty carts in total.
Liu Siyan’s group set out in grand procession on their return journey, passing through two post stations. The next evening they lodged at Zhouzhi County post station, departing early the next morning, and then they disappeared. None of the subsequent post stations reported hosting them.
Hu Shanwei looked at the map of Zhouzhi County. This place was over 160 li from Xi’an, a remote area with many mountains and rivers, complex terrain, and sparse population.
Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander Mao Qiang frowned: “Remote mountains and treacherous waters breed unruly people. According to Transmission Office intelligence, bandits and mountain brigands in this area have never ceased—like leeks, they grow back after being cut, and get cut again after growing. I think Liu Siyan’s group probably fell into the hands of those audacious bandits.”
Even Hu Shanwei sensed that Liu Siyan had met with disaster. Anger surged in her heart as she said: “Last time when Jiang Quan and I traveled, your Embroidered Uniform Guard lost nineteen men, with only Ji Gang barely escaping with his life. Commander Mao was furious and ordered Mu Chun to take three hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards to suppress bandits at Jiangxi’s Guaishi Ridge. Now the Embroidered Uniform Guard has lost fifty men plus over twenty porters and laborers. How many people does Commander Mao plan to send to Zhouzhi County for revenge?”
After a moment’s consideration, Mao Qiang said: “With no sign of the living or dead, what’s important now is to investigate the matter clearly. What if there are survivors? What if Liu Siyan and the others are still alive? We must first ensure their safety and rescue them.”
With hope in her heart, Hu Shanwei suddenly stood up: “Then what are you waiting for? Go quickly!”
Mao Qiang drew a circle on the map with his finger: “This area belongs to Xi’an Prefecture. Xi’an is different from Jiangxi—this is Prince Qin’s fiefdom and also a key northwest border defense area of the Great Ming. The prince governs here, and even the Great Ming armies stationed here are constrained by the Prince’s mansion. We Embroidered Uniform Guards can’t just go there—we need an imperial decree.”
Hu Shanwei said urgently: “Then quickly request an imperial decree.”
Mao Qiang thought Hu Shanwei was being unrealistic: “You say request and we request? You say go and we go? You make demands and His Majesty will agree? Prince Qin is His Majesty’s second son, brave and skilled in battle, guarding Xi’an. For incidents occurring in his fiefdom, Prince Qin should handle them first. If His Majesty immediately dispatched troops to intervene, it would clearly show distrust of Prince Qin. If I rashly request a thorough investigation, at best I’d get a scolding, at worst I’d be accused of sowing discord among the imperial family and dragged to the Meridian Gate for execution!”
Hu Shanwei slumped into her chair: “So we can only sit here and wait for Prince Qin’s mansion to give us an answer? Commander Mao can sit so steadily?”
Mao Qiang waved his hands repeatedly: “Don’t try to provoke me—it won’t work. I only listen to His Majesty. If His Majesty orders it, I’ll act immediately. If His Majesty doesn’t speak, I won’t move my troops.”
Hu Shanwei said sarcastically: “I never expected you to be such a coward, only caring about your own position, not about your subordinates’ lives and deaths. If they meet with disaster, will you be able to sleep tonight? Aren’t you afraid of waking up at midnight to find bloody, mangled corpses under your bed, staring at you with clouded eyes, asking why you didn’t rescue them!”
Before Mao Qiang could retort, Ji Gang stepped forward to defend his superior: “Don’t think that having Fan Gongzheng backing you means you can run wild in our Embroidered Uniform Guard, insulting superior officers! If you’re so brave, so kind, so concerned about Liu Siyan, then go yourself!”
Hu Shanwei snorted coldly: “You all swallow your anger, not daring to request an imperial decree for investigation from His Majesty. I’ll go find Her Majesty the Empress! Two teams of people went to bestow books—Zhou Sizan’s group returned safely from Prince Jin’s mansion in Taiyuan long ago. Why has Liu Siyan’s group vanished without a trace? If something happened in a princely fiefdom, isn’t that the prince’s responsibility for poor governance?”
“You’re all officials! Afraid of losing your positions, afraid of losing your heads. I’m not afraid! Because anyway…”
Hu Shanwei paused, forcibly holding back the tears that threatened to come: “Because anyway, I’m just one person! No one cares, no one worries about me. If I die, so be it. Dying with a clear conscience is better than being a confused ghost!”
With these words, Hu Shanwei left angrily.
Just as Ji Gang was about to stop her, Mao Qiang called him back: “Let her go.”
Ji Gang lowered his voice: “If some other palace woman died, that would be one thing. But she’s Hu Shanwei, who endured until age twenty refusing to marry another. If she dies like this and Wang Ning learns his fiancée was killed, our intelligence network in Northern Yuan will collapse. How will we fight future northern campaigns? Without Wang Ning’s intelligence during the third northern campaign, how could Marquis Xiping Mu Ying have marched urgently for seven days and routed the Yuan army in one strike?”
Originally, Mao Qiang had repeatedly tried to prevent Hu Shanwei from entering the palace precisely because Wang Ning was still alive. Once he returned and was promoted and ennobled, he and Hu Shanwei could reunite and find happiness after hardship.
If Hu Shanwei became a palace official, following past patterns, female officials would be released after four or five years, or ten years, retiring from court service. By then Hu Shanwei would be twenty-four or twenty-five, or even the “advanced age” of thirty. Wang Ning might marry someone else, and Hu Shanwei might sever her emotional ties and never marry.
Being a man himself, Mao Qiang knew that most men preferred young, beautiful, gentle, and lovable women. Though Hu Shanwei was beautiful, her stubborn personality wasn’t likeable.
So Mao Qiang’s attempts to prevent Hu Shanwei from entering the palace were truly for her own good, but Mu Chun’s unexpected interference had thrown everything out of control.
Now Hu Shanwei had been promoted twice and was doing well in the palace. If Wang Ning achieved great merit again and returned to request his fiancée from His Majesty, the emperor would probably grant this beautiful union. But if Hu Shanwei died…
Ji Gang’s concerns weren’t unreasonable.
Mao Qiang sighed: “Her Majesty the Empress is different from His Majesty. First, bestowing books was Her Majesty’s decree, not His Majesty’s imperial edict. Second, sending female officials to question Prince Qin’s mansion is really about questioning Princess Qin—matters between women, between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, making big issues small, not as politically sensitive as matters between princes and the central government. So if Hu Shanwei requests a decree from Her Majesty the Empress, she’ll probably succeed. She won’t die.”
Ji Gang’s eyes lit up: “Borrowing another’s blade to kill—Commander Mao is brilliant! Then we Embroidered Uniform Guards can follow along to Prince Qin’s mansion in the name of protecting Hu Shanwei. With proper justification, we won’t seem so conspicuous.”
Meanwhile, Hu Shanwei rushed out of the Embroidered Uniform Guard office carrying the marked map and other evidence. Mu Chun happened to find his way there and blocked her path, pulling from his chest a white jade hairpin repaired with gold: “The jade hairpin you lost that night when you fought the head eunuch of Yanxi Palace in the Treasury was stepped on and broken. I had a craftsman repair it. I’ve been so busy lately that I forgot about it—I just retrieved it from the jewelry shop.”