By the time Xiao Nanhui fled back to the guest lodge, the midnight hour had long passed.

The other commanding generals sharing the lodge had already retired; the deep hours of the night were utterly silent.

A light burned in the central courtyard. Xiao Nanhui’s drifting footsteps slowed, and a glimmer of hope suddenly rose in her chest. She hurried forward several quick steps.

But the central courtyard was empty. Xiao Zhun had not been waiting for her.

At this moment, the person she most wished to see — and most feared seeing — was Xiao Zhun.

She wanted to see him, to tell him her confusion and her uncertainty.

But she was also afraid to see him. Afraid that he would see through her.

The finger pressed to her heart, the words half-spoken yet searing, the flame that had fallen upon her lips — all of it had taken root in her mind, and the harder she tried to forget, the more it refused to leave.

A peculiar and deeply uncomfortable emotion had taken hold of her body — part panic, part shame, and something that felt like guilt.

Why guilt? Xiao Nanhui could not understand it. She only wanted to wash away the traces that man had left in her body by filling her mind with Xiao Zhun’s face and voice. If tonight were the night, perhaps she could muster the courage to lay bare the thoughts she had carried for so many years. If only tonight—

But tonight, of all nights, Xiao Zhun had not come home.

A lamp had been left on the stone table in the courtyard — perhaps left by a soldier on night patrol. Xiao Nanhui lit it and sat down beside the stone table.

She did not yet want to return to her room, did not want to climb into bed, did not want to enter into sleep. She was afraid that if she fell asleep, that man would invade her dreams again, toy with her, and turn her about as he pleased.

Even now, while still fully conscious, heaven refused to grant her wish — that scene, steeped in shame yet threaded with something clinging and tender, played over and over in her mind like a theatrical performance that would not end.

Time slipped away drop by drop. Xiao Nanhui gazed fixedly at that oil lamp, praying in her heart for Xiao Zhun to return soon.

This trip to Jiaosong County — including the journey there and back — was only a few days in total. Both she and Xiao Zhun had military duties, making it truly impossible to attend to much, so she had not brought Dujuan and Bolao along.

She had not let Dujuan come because she had considered the hardship of the long journey and felt it was not worth dragging her along. She had not let Bolao come because she was afraid she would cause trouble.

Yet at this moment, she suddenly felt a twinge of regret.

Only when her body was utterly exhausted could her thoughts come to a stop. If Bolao were here, she could at least goad her into a fight and battle through until dawn.

After sitting there doing nothing for a while, Xiao Nanhui reached into her front lapel and drew out a crumpled sheet of yellow paper.

This was the portrait the fortune-teller had drawn earlier in the day. Ding Weixiang had considered the original too rough and had eventually had someone redraw it for distribution, so this original draft had been left in her hands.

With a head full of clamoring noise that would not quiet down, Xiao Nanhui simply used the dim oil lamp for light and began to study Zou Sifang’s portrait.

She did not know how much time had passed. The sky gradually began to lighten. The lodge attendants led in a group of ritual officials who had come to deliver the day’s itinerary slips, and one of them looked up and got a start at the sight of the figure in the courtyard.

The attendant stood still for a moment, stepped closer and looked carefully, then realized the figure seemed to be the female general of the Guangyao Camp.

The person’s hair was half-undone, covered in a layer of frost, with half a sheet of yellow paper in hand, slumped face-down across the stone table, completely motionless.

“Right— Right General?”

The figure stirred slightly, slowly raised its head, and revealed a pale, swollen face.

“What hour is it?”

The attendant steadied himself and said softly: “The hour of Chen.”

Xiao Nanhui sprang to her feet, and in her carelessness knocked over the oil lamp on the table, which had long since burned out. She had no mind to attend to it and asked urgently: “Did the Grand General return last night?”

The attendant shook his head. “I stood night watch until dawn. The Right General was the last one to enter the courtyard last night.”

Xiao Nanhui’s figure froze in place. After a long moment she stirred, and righted the overturned oil lamp.

Her face had gone numb from the cold, and at this moment she could not compose it into an expression of disappointment.

The attendant read the mood and was about to withdraw, but was called back.

“Could you help arrange to send a letter?”

“Of course, General — please give your orders. However, Jiaosong is a small place, and the postal relay station has no fast horses. Without military orders to dispatch a messenger, sending a letter to Quecheng would likely take about as long as the return journey itself—”

“It is not going to Quecheng.” Xiao Nanhui handed the thin letter slip to the attendant. “It is going to Huozhou.”

That letter was one she had hesitated over for a long time the previous night before writing.

If the “Zou Sifang” who had appeared at the ceremony was indeed the leader of the Pu Huna, then the layers of fog now enveloping everything were not entirely without a glimmer of hope. At the very least, she had once been to the Zou Mansion, and Zou Sifang was not the sort of man who traveled light without family or dependents. If this “Zou Sifang” was not what he seemed, his family might have noticed something.

The matter of the Pu Huna had to be brought to a resolution.

She repeatedly told herself this was a matter of duty — nothing to do with that person. She had long since forgotten that the Huozhou trip had originally been undertaken for Xiao Zhun’s sake.

The attendant took the letter and withdrew, leaving behind the itinerary slip the ritual officials had given, as was customary.

The slip recorded the general arrangements for the day’s ceremonies. Xiao Nanhui ran her eyes over it quickly, confirming it had essentially nothing to do with her.

For once she had a day to herself — and she did not want to spend it alone at the guest lodge.

After a moment’s thought, she led Jixiang over to the Black Feather garrison’s encampment.

The Black Feather garrison was the Emperor’s personal guard, directly under the Emperor’s command, and by rights should have been stationed near the imperial traveling palace. But for this Day of Obscurity ceremony, the Black Feather main camp had been set up in the outer district of Jiaosong, away from the cluster of guest lodges.

Several lodges were located near Quecheng, with those at Jiaosong County being the most densely grouped. Earlier, Dujuan had let something slip, and she had pieced together additional information from Yaoyi, which had allowed her to determine with reasonable certainty that Bai Yun was being held in one of the lodges around Jiaosong. Which one, however, she could not say.

But the events at Changmi Platform yesterday had created an opportunity.

By Ding Weixiang’s judgment, he must have already detected the connection between the purple-clad assassin and the Bai Family, which was why security at the Emperor’s traveling palace had been extraordinarily tight the previous night.

Since the incident of the stolen seal at the ceremony was connected to the Bai Family, the lodge where Bai Yun was held would inevitably have its security reinforced as well — to prevent Yanzi or his associates from taking advantage of the chaos to make contact with her.

In truth, she did not know what she would do even if she found that lodge and found Bai Yun. She only knew that in these days during which Xiao Zhun had been growing further and further from her, an inexplicable premonition had quietly persisted in her heart, and Xiao Zhun’s failure to return the previous night seemed to press all the more urgently on her need to confirm it.

For her, the person living in that lodge was not a person — but a cruel yet irresistible answer to a mystery.

Riding hard for half an hour, she tethered Jixiang in an unobtrusive spot outside the Black Feather garrison’s camp and came on foot to the entrance of the encampment.

The Black Feather garrison had few visible sentries, but many concealed ones. She had no wish to wade through mud, crawl over iron caltrops, and be shot clean through midway over a wall.

But “one cannot get the tiger cub without entering the tiger’s lair.” Just as Xiao Nanhui was at a loss for how to handle the guards outside the camp, she suddenly remembered what she had on her wrist.

In Bijiang, the Emperor had given her a jade ring. The thing looked fragile, but could not be removed no matter how she tried. She had grown so used to it over time that she had half-forgotten about it — and now, suddenly remembering, she found it had inadvertently come to her aid.

Composing herself, she walked with an air of deliberate confidence out of her hiding spot and went directly toward the gate guards.

Even upon seeing her in the armor of the Guangyao Camp, the Black Feather guards stopped her as swiftly as always.

“Who goes there?”

“Xiao Nanhui, Right General of the Guangyao Camp.”

Xiao Nanhui then cleared her throat and, with an air of slight uncertainty, revealed the ring on her wrist.

The Black Feather guard glanced at it, and the eyes beneath his helmet showed unmistakable surprise. He hesitated for a moment and did not immediately let her through, but his tone became considerably more respectful.

“The imperial carriage has not left the traveling palace — why has the Right General come here?”

Xiao Nanhui was seized with instant anxiety.

When the Emperor had given her this thing, he had indeed said it was for moving about in close proximity to the imperial presence — he had not said she could go anywhere she liked. She had naturally assumed that anywhere near the Emperor would be freely accessible, that even a Black Feather garrison wouldn’t dare stop her. In the end she had grossly underestimated that frighteningly thorough schemer, Lu Songping.

Her fingers tightened involuntarily. Xiao Nanhui made a concentrated effort to conjure up the image of Wu Xiaoliu lying with a straight face.

“Is it not because of the incident yesterday at the ceremony — that assassin and his accomplice are still at large? I have crossed swords with that criminal and came specifically to discuss countermeasures with Lieutenant Lu. As for anything further—” she added a deliberately grave pause, “—I cannot say.”

A brief silence settled over the air. The Black Feather guards on both sides finally withdrew their weapons and stepped aside.

“This one will report the Right General’s visit to the Lieutenant as is proper. We ask the General to forgive any offense.”

Xiao Nanhui suppressed the wild surge of joy in her heart, maintained an outward composure, gave a dignified nod, and stepped into the encampment. After walking a few dozen paces she glanced back and saw no one had come after her. Only then did she let out a breath and quicken her step toward the tent of the garrison’s lieutenant.

Wu Xiaoliu had once declared: a lie must be half truth. She had once scoffed at this; now she was prepared to take it as gospel and review it at regular intervals.

In a certain sense, she had not actually lied — she really had come to find Lu Songping.

Just, of course, not to discuss any countermeasures with him.

Even with one Lu Songping and one Ding Weixiang combined, if there were matters the two of them could not resolve, what good would it do for her to come wedging herself in between?

Tiancheng’s four great military camps each had their own deployment and tactical methods. But her earlier experience in the Ling’xi encampment meant she was not entirely unfamiliar with the Black Feather garrison. And on this trip accompanying the imperial procession to Jiaosong, there were not many lieutenants of the same rank who had come along. It did not take her much effort to locate Lu Songping’s tent.

The sun had only just risen, and the tent was still somewhat dim inside. Xiao Nanhui carefully confirmed the situation, then felt her way cautiously in.

The inside of the tent was tidy to an almost uncanny degree — not a trace of anyone having lived here regularly. Only the large case padded with fur hide in the center showed any sign of disarray.

It was a pity she had very little experience interacting with Lu Songping in depth. She could only resign herself to starting with that case, which looked most promising. From scraps of paper no larger than a thumbnail to deployment sand trays too heavy for two people to lift — when on earth would she find what she was looking for at this rate?

Xiao Nanhui took a deep breath, used the jade hook securing the felt curtain at the entrance as a simple early-warning device, then rolled up her sleeves and prepared to do some “skulking and pilfering.”

There was a great deal on the case and it was all in no particular order. She had to carefully memorize the sequence in which she looked at things, and every item she examined had to be returned to exactly where she found it. It was a formidable test of one’s mental fortitude.

Midway through her rummaging, she suddenly felt a little sorry for herself.

Why was she always putting herself in the position of “skulking and pilfering”? First, sneaking into the Zou Mansion at night and getting run circles around by that master and servant pair. Then, sneaking into the Kang Wang traveling palace at night and being chased with a sword by that Lu Songping.

This was hardly something a general who had just received official commendation should be doing!

Xiao Nanhui thought all this indignantly, her hands never stopping. The saying goes that once is unfamiliar, twice is familiar. Gradually she felt she had found something of a rhythm, and just as she was getting into the flow of it and feeling a certain brisk satisfaction, a voice rang out cold and abrupt directly behind her.

“Why are you in here?”

Xiao Nanhui went rigid all over. Without turning around, she already knew the one who had come was Lu Songping.

After the Bijiang campaign, she had not seen him for some time. During the platform ceremony yesterday he had not seemed to be there either, most likely working in coordination with Ding Weixiang from the outer perimeter.

This man moved just as noiselessly as ever — not only had he not disturbed the jade hook on the curtain at the entrance, he had not made a single sound with his footsteps.

He ought to have gone yesterday to the ritual platform and played a ghost to scare off Yanzi, rather than demean himself serving as a lieutenant here.

Xiao Nanhui pressed down her private grumbling and made her best effort at a warm expression as she turned around. “It has been a long time — is Lieutenant Lu well? I was making my usual rounds and happened to stop in to see you.”

The moment the words were out, she instantly felt all the hair on her forearms stand on end.

As expected, the thing more excruciating than lying was lying to Lu Songping.

Lu Songping narrowed his eyes and did not expose her on the spot, but the words he did say were enough to make anyone’s skin crawl: “The Guangyao Camp is at least ten miles from here. The Right General and I are on such intimate terms that it is truly gratifying.”

Xiao Nanhui covered her face with a dry cough, trying to mask the embarrassment on it, while silently reciting Wu Xiaoliu’s principles.

What had she said to the guard at the entrance just now?

“That is not entirely for your sake — is it not because of the incident yesterday at the ceremony? The assassin and his accomplice are still at large. I have crossed swords with that criminal and came specially to inform Lieutenant Lu—”

Lu Songping nodded as if he accepted this, yet his form circled to the other side of the case, his gaze sweeping over the objects on its surface like frost withering plants, like a north wind cutting down trees in their prime.

“Yet the Right General was walking circles around my case with her sleeves rolled so high?”

Xiao Nanhui was nearly forced entirely onto the back foot. Her eyes fell on the bows and arrows and assorted items on the case, and she improvised desperately: “Naturally I was examining these captured Bijiang bows and arrows. As for the sleeves — I was simply absorbed in contemplating the object and got carried away in a moment of enthusiasm, beyond my own control—”

While she was hastily rolling her sleeves back down, Lu Songping had already picked up a long, slender Bijiang bow from the table and was deftly working the bowstring that had not yet been fully tightened.

“Since that is the case, the Right General must have formed some observations. Why not share them?”

She had seen his archery with her own eyes and knew perfectly well that poorly thought-out remarks could lead her straight into a trap. After hesitating for a moment, Xiao Nanhui said quietly: “When clashing on the battlefield earlier, I noticed that the enemy archers had a considerably longer range than Tiancheng’s. After examining their weapons I discovered it was because the construction and materials of the bow were different.”

Lu Songping’s hands paused. He seemed to have taken an interest. “What is different?”

Xiao Nanhui gathered her thoughts and said carefully: “Take the bow face on the inner side of the bow limb, for instance. Tiancheng’s Luoyan Bow and the royal bow use ibex horn, which is sturdy and durable but too heavy and rigid. This Bijiang bow, however, uses water-buffalo horn — white on the inner face, blue-green toward the middle — which not only has a length advantage but surpasses the other in both elasticity and flexibility.”

Lu Songping finally looked at Xiao Nanhui, and a trace of surprise entered his gaze. “You were not trained as an archer, yet you noticed these differences — that is worth something.” He paused, set the strung bow to one side, and continued: “However, Tiancheng’s climate is on the cold and dry side, and water sources are scarce. Using water-buffalo horn for bow faces on a large scale is not practical.”

He answered with such seriousness that Xiao Nanhui momentarily forgot this had begun as a pretext, and sank genuinely into the subject, asking in earnest: “If the two types of bows were combined in some way, might there be some new advantage?”

“A bow and its arrows must be properly matched to perform to their full potential. If the bow design is to be changed, the arrows must be adjusted along with it. From the initial trials through to actual deployment, at the very least several years would be needed.”

She had not considered that dimension, but the words brought to mind what she had witnessed of Lu Songping shooting down the night bats in Bijiang.

“I saw you shoot a cloud-piercing arrow before — I wonder how it would pair with this Bijiang bow?”

“My bow is specially made — specifically because the cloud-piercing arrow has a heavier arrowhead, and its shaft and tip are formed as one piece. A bow cannot be drawn to full effect without a pull of at least one full stone. Moreover, one cloud-piercing arrow takes a craftsman three full days to forge. Even issued only to elite archers, it would be excessive.”

Neither option worked — Xiao Nanhui finally snapped back to herself and felt some regret at having gotten into this topic with him at all. She tried to wrap it up quickly.

“I use a spear myself and naturally don’t understand all the twists and turns of your bow and arrow craft. The Black Feather garrison was able to produce the Black Feather Arrow — there must be one or two capable people you can put to use.”

Unexpectedly, Lu Songping reacted to these words with a strange expression.

Seeing that Xiao Nanhui still looked at him with complete bewilderment, he said slowly: “The Black Feather Arrow currently in use by the Black Feather garrison was originally devised by Prince Shuo himself. Subsequently, the Qinghuai Marquis personally refined the arrow-forging technique on that foundation — which is what allows the Black Feather Arrow to penetrate armor at a hundred paces.” He paused, then looked at Xiao Nanhui. “You are of the Xiao household — and you did not know even this?”