Qing Xuzi set down the book in his hands and sat blank-faced for a long while, lost in thought, before finally rising and walking out with his hands clasped behind his back.

The moment he opened the door, he saw A’Han dashing eagerly across the courtyard, a bundle clutched in his arms.

His face darkened, and he barked, “Where are you off to?”

A’Han came to a sudden stop, and turning to see his master standing in the doorway glaring at him, hurried over. “Master, you’ve stopped reading?” he asked, surprised.

Without waiting for Qing Xuzi to answer, he held up the paper-wrapped bundle for his master to see, saying eagerly, “A’Yao wants some Three-Flavor Fruit—she sent Guard Chang to fetch some from the temple, and I’m just taking it to him.”

“A’Yao wants Three-Flavor Fruit?” Qing Xuzi said, surprised. “Didn’t you take a bundle of it from the temple just the other day? So it wasn’t for A’Yao after all?”

A’Han laughed carelessly. “That one was for A’Yu—you know, A’Yao’s classmate. When we were eating at Fuchun Pavilion she told me she wanted to try the temple’s Three-Flavor Fruit, so I promised her I would.”

“And did she accept it?” Qing Xuzi fell silent for a moment, staring at A’Han.

A’Han shook his head, his expression showing neither dejection nor cheer. “I took it to her family’s gate, but her family wouldn’t let me in—they chased me off, and she never even got the sweets.”

“What?” Qing Xuzi was so furious his beard bristled. “They dared treat you that way? Why didn’t you say a single word about it when you got back? What did they say to you?”

A’Han hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from his master, and after a startled pause, repeated what the Liu household’s servants had actually said that day. “They said anyone could tell at a glance I’d come to scrounge off them, and that they didn’t know how many shameless types tried to latch onto Minister Liu every single day—one more or less made no difference. They said I had some nerve, setting my sights on their young lady, and that not beating me was already being generous, and told me to clear off. I couldn’t argue them down, so I just left.”

Qing Xuzi’s heart twisted in pain at hearing this, and he snapped, “From now on you are not to go near that Miss Liu again, do you hear me?”

Startled by his master’s shout, A’Han nodded in a fluster. “I understand.”

He stood there a while longer, but in the end couldn’t help asking, “Master, what does ‘scrounge’ mean?”

Qing Xuzi choked on the question, looking at A’Han with the despair of someone watching iron fail to become steel. Seeing the boy grow flustered under his glare, his gaze gradually grew heavy, and he let out a long sigh. “You foolish child—”

A’Han, seeing the anger on his master’s face ease somewhat, assumed his master no longer minded him giving sweets to others, and brightened again, hurrying outside with the bundle of pastries in his arms. “Guard Chang is still waiting for me out there—I’d better hurry and give him this Three-Flavor Fruit so he can bring it back to A’Yao!”

Standing under the eaves, Qing Xuzi watched A’Han’s figure vanish through the courtyard gate, his mind heavy with thought. He shook his head and walked back to his room, hands clasped behind his back.

By the time dusk fell, Qing Xuzi was still reading in his room, but feeling stifled, he threw the window open.

Outside, A’Han was kicking a ball about the courtyard with the young Daoist boy Fuyuan, their laughter and chatter drifting into the room now and again, but Qing Xuzi seemed not to hear it at all, his gaze fixed as though glued to the book before him.

Suddenly A’Han stopped, looked up toward the courtyard gate, and listened intently for a moment before saying, surprised, “Huh, someone’s come to the temple gate.”

His senses were sharper than an ordinary person’s, and he could often hear the faintest stirrings.

Hearing this, Fuyuan immediately hitched up his robe and dashed off. “I’ll go take a look!”

Only then did A’Han react, hurrying after him. “I’m coming too!”

The courtyard fell quiet again.

Qing Xuzi read on a while longer, then grew suspicious, lifting his eyes from the scroll to the empty courtyard. What were the two of them dawdling about out there for, taking so long without coming back?

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and strode outside, crossing through several courtyards until he reached the temple gate, where he found his elder disciple speaking with someone, Fuyuan standing beside him watching the stranger with curiosity.

He turned his head to look, and his face immediately twisted with anger—standing before A’Han was a young lady dressed in gold and jade finery, her hair done up in two round buns, a winsome smile on her face. Who else could it be but the daughter of the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, Miss Liu?

Remembering how her household’s servants had treated A’Han, his temper flared at once, and he stormed up to the gate, sweeping a fierce glare over Liu Bingyu, about to lash out.

But A’Han, seeing his master arrive, said happily before he could speak, “Master, look, Miss Liu brought me all sorts of good things to eat!”

He pointed at the great heap of pastry boxes piled by the gate—there were so many that he couldn’t hold them all in his arms, and had simply stacked them on the ground for the moment.

Qing Xuzi shot Liu Bingyu a glare and said curtly, “What is all this?”

Liu Bingyu had always been a little afraid of A’Han’s master, and now, seeing how frightening Qing Xuzi’s expression was, her usual quick wit had fled to who-knew-where. She stood there awkwardly, eyes fixed on A’Han, unable to think of what to say.

His master’s moods had always been unpredictable, but A’Han didn’t seem at all afraid, and explained cheerfully, “The last time that bundle of Three-Flavor Fruit didn’t get to A’Yu, A’Yao heard about it and had Guard Chang deliver another bundle to the Liu residence just now. A’Yu accepted our Three-Flavor Fruit and bought a bunch of pastries to return the favor.”

“I came to apologize to Brother A’Han,” Liu Bingyu said, stepping forward carefully and picking up where he’d left off. “If Qin Yao hadn’t just sent someone to tell me what happened that day, I would never have known Brother A’Han had come to my home to deliver Three-Flavor Fruit. It was entirely my household’s servants being rude—I’ll be sure to punish them properly once I’m home. Please, Brother A’Han, Daoist Master, don’t be angry anymore.”

Seeing how sincere her attitude was, and with the whole matter now laid out clearly, much of Qing Xuzi’s anger dissipated. He studied Liu Bingyu in silence, surprised that the girl showed not the slightest trace of arrogance and even understood the principle of returning kindness for kindness—no wonder Qin Yao had said she was simple and good-hearted.

He grunted, hands still clasped behind his back. “There’s no need to be so courteous, Miss Liu. There’s only my disciple and myself in the temple now, so I won’t invite you in to sit.”

Relieved to see Qing Xuzi’s manner had clearly softened, Liu Bingyu turned to look at A’Han. The setting sun lit his face, making his features look all the more striking, every part of him so well-formed it left her flustered.

She lingered a while, but seeing that Qing Xuzi had no intention of going back inside, there were a number of things she couldn’t well say to A’Han in front of him. Reluctantly she said, “Then I’ll be going.”

Seeing her turn to go, A’Han suddenly felt a pang of reluctance too, and hurried after her, scratching his head. “Little Sister A’Yu, thank you for the pastries. I really like listening to you talk. If you’re free, would you come to the temple often and play with me?”

Qing Xuzi sighed at hearing this, having expected Liu Bingyu to look uncomfortable or even refuse outright. But instead her eyes lit up, and she nodded. “Mm! Whenever I can get away, I’ll come find you at the temple.”

With that, she smiled and glanced at A’Han several more times before happily climbing into her carriage.

Qing Xuzi marveled privately. Children in this world truly each had their own nature—ordinary girls would think someone with A’Han’s disposition simply foolish and wouldn’t even spare him a second glance, so how had this Miss Liu come to be so willing to go back and forth with him?

Seeing A’Han still standing rooted to the spot, he said suddenly, “A’Han, come inside with me.”

A’Han murmured an acknowledgment, watching the Liu carriage a moment longer before following Qing Xuzi back into the temple.

Qing Xuzi led A’Han into his room, gazed silently for a moment at the book lying open there, then looked at A’Han and said, “Tell me honestly—do you like that young lady very much?”

“You mean A’Yu?” A’Han hadn’t expected his master to ask this, and felt no embarrassment at all, only grinning sheepishly. “I like her. She keeps telling me I’ve saved her a few times, that I’m a great hero of Chang’an—I love listening to her talk.”

Qing Xuzi’s heart grew heavier still at this, and hardening himself, he said, “Her family is far too far above ours; we could never reach so high. Don’t have anything more to do with her from now on.”

“Why?” A’Han didn’t understand, growing somewhat anxious.

Qing Xuzi sighed heavily. “Even if her family’s standing weren’t an issue, her parents would still think you simple-minded and would never agree to give their daughter to you in marriage.”

A’Han blinked, taken aback. “Give their daughter to me in marriage? Master, you’re being so strange today—why can’t I understand a word you’re saying? Simple-minded? I’ve been simple-minded since I was little, but you and A’Yao have never once looked down on me for it.”

Qing Xuzi’s heart was full of worry, torn over what to do. “What I’m trying to say is, you were never meant to be this simple-minded—if I had a way to make you like an ordinary person, would you want that?”

A’Han blinked uncomprehendingly, but once he had worked through his master’s words one by one, a broad smile spread across his face. “There’s really a way to make me clever? As clever as A’Yao? That’s wonderful, Master, please use it quickly and make me clever!”

A flash of pain crossed Qing Xuzi’s eyes. He gazed steadily at A’Han for a long moment, then said in anguish, “I do have a way, but—”

Looking at A’Han’s innocent, joyful face, the rest of the words stuck in his throat, and try as he might, he could not go on.

Though they were already drawing near Chang’an, the weather showed no sign of warming, every bit as bitter as the cold at Yumen Pass had been. Everyone knew in their hearts that the depths of winter had come to Chang’an.

After force-marching a hundred li, all the soldiers had grown weary. Xia Di reined in his horse, and looking up to see the sun sinking heavily westward like a hook of gold, gave the order to set up camp where they stood, light the bonfires, and rest for the night before setting out again.

Having eaten something hastily, Xia Di leaned back against his tent, one knee drawn up, drinking as he gazed at the distant mountains slowly sinking into the cold dark. His face had grown leaner and darker, and he had already taken on a soldier’s particular bearing of authority, though his expression carried a certain loneliness.

The officers, having ridden hard for days, were finally able to relax somewhat and were in fairly high spirits, gathered around the fire eating dried rations with their wineskins, chattering away all at once.

In the midst of the lively chatter, several soldiers suddenly came shoving a line of captives along, and brought them before Xia Di. The soldier in charge made the prisoners kneel, then bowed to Xia Di with cupped hands. “General Xia, these Daoist priests were acting quite suspiciously. This subordinate feared they might be Remnant Feathers of Menghe, so we bound them. Please decide their fate, General.”

“Spare us, General!” a Daoist priest in his forties cried out, pleading loudly. “This humble priest and his fellows are from Sanqing Temple in Chang’an. We had urgent matters that required us to leave the city for a time, which is why we were traveling the official road—we are absolutely not spies for any foreign enemy.”

“Urgent matters?” Xia Di looked over the men before him—there were a good dozen or so priests. What manner of urgent matter would require an entire temple’s priests to leave together? He gave a scornful laugh. “Drag them off. Cut off their right hands first. If they still won’t speak the truth, take the rest of their limbs too.”

The priests had never imagined this jade-faced general could act so ruthlessly, and their faces all changed at once with fear. “General, this humble priest would never dare conceal anything from you—it’s only that our reason for leaving Chang’an is rather absurd-sounding. Even if we told you, not only would you not believe us, you might well think we were spreading wild rumors to deceive the people!”

Xia Di frowned impatiently and turned to the officers nearby, saying coldly, “What are you standing about for? Drag them off and cut off their hands.”

The soldiers, receiving the order, bent to drag the priests off to one side for the punishment. Seeing their lives in danger, the priests shouted at the top of their lungs. “General! The day before yesterday our own master, observing the heavens at night, happened to glimpse the Wolf Star fall. Though it was over in an instant, Venus rose as Ziwei sank—a genuine and grave ill omen. Disaster will strike Chang’an before many more days pass! We are people of no consequence, unable to withstand such a calamity, and so our whole temple fled the city. Every word of this is true—we beg the General to judge fairly!”

Xia Di’s expression still showed no change at all—he clearly did not believe a word the priest had said.

A few of the older priests spoke up eagerly. “If the General doesn’t believe us, you’re welcome to search us. We’re still carrying a good number of the temple’s ritual implements and talismans, genuine items used by talisman-tradition priests—there’s no faking these.”

On hearing this, the soldiers conducted a thorough search and indeed turned up a good many ritual implements. Among them was a collar-like object hung with three round bells, which looked rather similar to the bell collar Qin Yao usually wore, though far cruder than hers.

Xia Di lost himself in thought for a moment, and abruptly losing his appetite for the matter, waved a hand. “Take them away and hold them. Tomorrow they travel with us.”

On hearing they would still have to return to Chang’an, the priests’ faces turned even more ashen than before, and they wept. “General, rather than send us back to Chang’an, you might as well just give us a clean death right here.”

Xia Di saw that their fear was as plain as could be, nothing like an act, and he looked up at the star-filled sky. Though astrology was an ancient practice, would it not be rather too absurd for these priests to abandon their temple and flee over a so-called ill omen?

Even so, suspicion had taken root in him after all, and thinking of those in Chang’an he cared for, he hesitated a moment before suddenly calling out to the soldiers by the bonfire. “Have you rested enough? Let’s press on through the night—the less we delay on the road, the sooner we can reach Chang’an.”