The day after the imperial procession returned to the city, Quecheng had its first rain.

This was the first rain of the year — damp and cold, it wrapped the entire imperial city in a veil of misty drizzle.

The rain fell for three days without stopping. The city’s ponds rose, washing the fallen leaves and dead branches of the entire winter out of the waterways, as though trying to purge some long-accumulated secrets from this ancient city.

In the early hours before dawn, the sky was overcast as usual. The damp air left everyone sluggish. The streets had few passers-by, and none of them could manage any spirit.

The side gate of Wangchen Tower’s back courtyard creaked open, and a small servant boy came out wearing a rain cape and bamboo hat. He hefted a wooden crate wrapped in oilcloth onto the ox-cart, then drove the cart off with practiced ease through the back alley.

The ox-cart swayed and trundled through the streets, cutting through all manner of narrow lanes and shortcuts, before finally stopping at the back gate of a quiet and spacious residence.

The servant boy jumped off the cart and went forward to knock on the gate ring.

Three knocks — no more, no less.

After a moment, the gate opened halfway, and a woman in men’s clothing with her hair bound stepped out.

The servant boy respectfully passed the oilcloth-wrapped crate to her.

“These are the latest red-throated pearls — four liang and three qian in all. That should be enough to last until late spring or early summer. There are none left over.”

Xiao Nanhui carefully wiped the water from the oilcloth with her sleeve and said with genuine gratitude: “Thank you for the trouble. Please pass a message to your proprietor on my behalf — tell him that I will bring some food to visit him when I am free one day.”

The servant boy chuckled, then fished a crumpled piece of rough paper out from inside his robe and passed it over.

Xiao Nanhui took it and glanced at it, immediately recognizing whose bold, free-flowing brushwork it was.

“My proprietor knows that Miss Xiao is a generous and righteous person who does not like to be indebted, so he has already drawn up a list. Miss Xiao need only follow the list to make her purchases — no need to trouble herself thinking of anything on her own.”

The very first line was a raccoon mushroom of one liang and ten in gold. Xiao Nanhui smiled as she folded that scrap of paper and tucked it away. Whatever trace of gratitude she had felt a moment ago had already vanished entirely.

“Proprietor Yao is truly thorough.”

“Think nothing of it.” The servant boy nimbly flipped back up onto the ox-cart, turned the cart around and headed back the way he had come. “Until we meet again, Miss Xiao.”

The ox-cart creaked and groaned away into the distance, disappearing around the corner at the mouth of the alley. Xiao Nanhui stood in place for a moment, then carefully cradled the crate and retreated back through the gate.

Several days of rain had made the roof tiles wet and slippery. The tops of walls that she could normally walk across as though on level ground now offered no foothold — let alone when she had something in her hands as well.

It took considerable effort for Xiao Nanhui to reach the ground.

Whenever she was home these days, she spent all her time in the courtyard of Lady Dai’s quarters.

Because this was the only place where she would not run into Xiao Zhun.

The woman who had always been reliably there on the swing waiting for her was nowhere to be seen now. The courtyard had collected some rainwater, reflecting the withered grass on top of the wall — it looked even more desolate than it had in winter.

Xiao Nanhui sighed, walked over to the small stove nearby, and saw that a small pot of medicinal broth was warming on it. The outside of the clay pot was already coated with a layer of white frost, showing it had been simmering for a long while.

She took the small crate out of the oilcloth and opened it, revealing three ceramic bottles nestled and secured in soft silk. She carefully took one out, used the warmth of her palm to melt the wax seal on its mouth, then poured the pale bluish-white powder inside into the medicinal pot.

A sweet, warm, fishy scent spread through the air. She dipped a fingertip into the powder and put it to her tongue — terribly bitter.

That was the taste of shallow-water red-throated pearls.

Red-throated pearls were a medicine Lady Dai had been taking for three years. They were a dried powder made from the secretion of freshwater mussels, mostly gathered near the southern coastal cities, with a remarkable efficacy for relieving pain and dispelling wind-cold — a remedy used by people along the ancient seacoasts against bone-penetrating cold. These days, inland merchants seldom traded in them, and the shallow-water variety grown in streams was all the more impossible to find for any price.

The calamity of years ago had still left irreversible damage on Lady Dai’s body. Beyond the terrible scarring visible on her skin, the flesh, tendons and bones that had been torn and severed within her body still ached from time to time. This pain was at its most difficult to endure each year after the onset of winter, and especially so on rainy or snowy days.

Since she had begun drawing a salary in the army, she had entrusted Yaoyi with searching for all manner of medicinal ingredients and remedies. Over the years she had accumulated a fair deal of experience, and of all these, it was the red-throated pearls that proved most effective. They were only difficult to obtain, and each time she owed Yaoyi another debt of gratitude.

She re-sealed the medicinal pot with the lacquered bone pill, then carried the crate toward the main room.

She had just pushed open the door and set her left foot down when she sensed that there was one extra person in the room.

Someone had gotten there before her and taken the room’s only chair, and was now happily eating from a plate of persimmon cakes with evident delight.

Xiao Nanhui walked over with an expressionless face and snatched the plate back.

“These were for Lady Dai. What gives you the right to eat them?”

“Eating too many of those things causes a heated constitution — I was doing her a kindness.” The thief’s cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk, and fingers still dusted with powdered sugar — which she wiped carelessly on her lapel — before turning around with a note of grievance: “You have been back several days already, and you are still hiding from me. As though you have done something to be ashamed of.”

Xiao Nanhui did not look back, placed the plate on one side, then carefully stowed the crate in a corner.

A second later, Bolao’s large face appeared right in front of hers.

“Something is off with you.”

Xiao Nanhui gave a cold snort, glanced at Lady Dai sleeping in the inner room, then turned away to add fresh charcoal to the brazier.

She was fairly confident that Bolao’s solid, uncomplicated head was not sharp enough for that, and that she would know nothing of the journey her heart had traveled over these last several days.

And indeed, as expected — after a moment of consideration, the other put on a falsely profound expression and smiled in an oily way: “Did that Su Pingchuan boy get into some sort of dispute with you again? I think you would be better off asking that old Emperor to transfer you back to the northern border. You have been sparring with that fellow Xu Shu for so many years — you have accumulated enough experience to write a book.”

Xiao Nanhui said nothing. The hand gripping the fire tongs pressed down unconsciously, her knuckles whitening.

If she had merely felt contempt for Xu Shu before, now she harbored something that was genuinely mixed with hatred.

“From now on, when you are wandering outside, keep away from his family if you run into them.”

Bolao was baffled, and widened her stance: “Why should little me be afraid of him? Even ten of Xu Shu would be no match for me.”

But the victories and defeats of this world truly were not always decided by fists — there were far more frightening enemies than the kind you could see with your eyes.

“The moment you beat him up, he turns around and comes looking for trouble with me. The more trouble you stir up, the worse it gets — keep yourself in check.”

“What do I have to fear with me here to protect you? For all the years I have been your protector—” Bolao extended one hand, her round face suddenly gaining a look of some substance: “Where are those snow-plum cakes you promised me?”

Xiao Nanhui stared at that plump paw, feeling as though she had used up eight lifetimes of bad luck. Thinking of the person at the gate just a moment ago, she could not fathom why she had saddled herself with two such demanding presences for friends, both of whom required tribute at every turn of the year and season.

Snow-plum cakes were a specialty of the Listening Wind Tower — made from plum meat preserved in sugar wrapped in fine, soft rice flour. They were available for only a few days a year and could not be bought but were instead given as gifts to those who had taken a seat at the perch fish banquet.

And what had happened at the Listening Wind Tower, Bolao did not know.

Xiao Nanhui kept her head down and had absolutely no patience for the other’s company right now.

“I forgot.”

“Forgot?!” A voice cracking with a mix of shock and indignation, the drawn-out end of the word betraying the speaker’s disbelief. “You actually think you can dismiss me with ‘I forgot’? Xiao Nanhui, I was out there eating and drinking fine things while you weren’t even thinking to save me so much as a scrap of leftovers—”

Xiao Nanhui still had no reaction. She poked at a few lumps of charcoal in the brazier, not sure what she was thinking.

Bolao muttered to herself as she tallied up her losses, scheming to get back some sweetness.

“As compensation, lend me that longbow of yours for a couple of days. I found another great spot for mounted archery to the south the other day — wide-open view, and a small patch of woods, full of wild birds—”

Xiao Nanhui’s fingers twitched slightly. She suddenly cut in.

“I no longer like archery. If you want that bow, take it.”

Bolao froze. The puzzlement on her round face was unmistakable. “What do you mean, you don’t like it anymore all of a sudden? You used to be the most obsessive about this kind of thing — you nearly shot through the fake mountain in the courtyard—”

The wound on her shoulder, not yet fully healed, was beginning to ache dully. Xiao Nanhui slammed the fire tongs into the brazier with a sharp crack.

“Just — I don’t like it anymore.”

A few sparks flew. The air was quiet for a few seconds.

Only then did Bolao truly sense that something was wrong. Her short, pudgy fingers unconsciously touched her hair knot, and even those two eyebrows like thick broad beans became tentative and careful.

“Did you eat too many persimmon cakes and get heated?”

Xiao Nanhui stared unblinking at the brazier, and suddenly spoke up.

“If one day I were to leave this household, would you go with the Marquis or go with me?”

That question, heard by anyone else, would have seemed quite serious. But to Bolao’s ears it was worn so familiar it had grown calluses.

When they were children they had gotten along terribly and were always fighting. At first Bolao had naturally had the upper hand, but as days went by Xiao Nanhui had learned to find her weak points, and Bolao’s fists and kicks were no longer of any use — in the end she had had no choice but to invoke Xiao Zhun’s name to keep her in check.

Every time it came to that, Xiao Nanhui would ask: are you going with the Marquis or going with her?

And her answer, every time, was always the same.

“That is a ridiculous question — of course I go with the Marquis. I was brought back by the Marquis. I eat his food and use his things, so naturally my loyalty belongs to him. Were it not for his arrangements, I would never have ended up bound to you by necessity. You had better always keep a clear head about this — never start to puff up and think that just because you have my company, you have my heart.”

In the past, when she said something like this, Xiao Nanhui would have flown into a rage and called her a short turnip who knew no loyalty.

But today, the other party only fell into a brief, thoughtful silence, and then nodded.

“That is fine too.”

Bolao was now even more convinced that something was truly not right with the person in front of her today — but try as she might with her limited imagination, she could not guess what it was.

“Did you go out playing the hero, make an enemy, and now they’re coming to the household to settle the score, and you’ve gone soft and are thinking of running away?”

Xiao Nanhui said nothing, watching the person before her wear a look of utter self-assurance, and felt seven parts amusement and three parts disdain in her heart.

This, in Bolao’s eyes, seemed to confirm her suspicion.

“No need to worry too much.” She put both hands on that barrel-like waist of hers, stretched her neck, and did her best to strike an imposing posture: “With little me here, who would dare trouble you?”

Xiao Nanhui said nothing, but moved with sudden swiftness — two fingers pinching a few cun of flesh above the other’s waistband. The feel of it was considerably thicker than it had been half a month ago.

She slowly looked up and met those two large eyes beneath the thick brows.

“This waist of yours — are you five months along? I just don’t know whether it is a boy or a girl—”

Bolao’s round face went from white to red, then from red to black. She sucked in a breath to pull the flesh back from the other’s grip, and resumed her agitated manner.

“I was being kind and saying a few words to you out of pity. Do not come crawling to me when you have hit rock bottom — I absolutely will not give in to a soft heart and agree to help you. Absolutely not—”

Xiao Nanhui was too annoyed to take it any further. She took a half-eaten persimmon cake and stuffed it into that chattering mouth. The world was finally quiet.

She had been out of her mind to bring this up — to ask this question at all.

“Why are the two of you arguing again?”

The woman’s slightly frail voice sounded from within. Xiao Nanhui startled and turned her head, and saw that Lady Dai had risen at some unknown moment, standing barefoot beside the gauze curtain, looking at her and Bolao.

Xiao Nanhui hurried forward to support her, and without further argument began pulling her toward the soft couch.

“The ground is terribly cold and damp — Lady Dai, please go back to the couch quickly.”

“But I still have not finished weaving today’s braided cord—”

“The braided cord can be woven tomorrow and it will be the same.”

Xiao Nanhui coaxed and persuaded, guiding the woman back onto the soft couch, then turned and gestured for Bolao to go retrieve the medicinal broth warming on the fire.

“I will call Dujuan to bring another two braziers of charcoal—”

“No hurry.” The woman’s slightly cool yet soft hand settled on her cheek. Xiao Nanhui stopped involuntarily. “These last few days apart — yet looking at you, I feel as though you have aged several years.”

Her heart gave a lurch. Xiao Nanhui found herself nearly unable to conceal the expression on her face.

She had thought she was concealing things well — Bolao, Dujuan, and Uncle Chen had all failed to notice anything.

And yet, of all people, it had slipped out so easily before the eyes of this woman who was already half lost to the world.

She forced a lightness into her manner and said with a smile: “How could Lady Dai have forgotten — did we not just see each other yesterday?”

The woman wore an expression that was half playful, half reproachful, making it impossible to tell for a moment whether she was being sincere or joking. “You know I am not speaking of that — and yet you treat me like a three-year-old child to be humored.”

Perhaps that expression tugged at the nerves in her face — Lady Dai’s brow furrowed again, and the scar on her face puckered along with it.

That scar had now faded to a faint white, but the sense of dread it gave had not diminished in the least.

Whoever had struck that blow must have come at her face-on, with a force nearly sufficient to split that beautiful head in two — only that could have left such a scar.

Who could have brought themselves to strike so savagely? Was it truly the Bai Family people who had been exposed for treason and were striking back like cornered beasts?

That night, what Bai Yun had said to her at the Listening Wind Tower still rang in her ears. She did not trust the other, and yet could not make sense of why the other had chosen to tell her those things.

Bai Yun had now been imprisoned. She could neither pass on to Xiao Zhun what had been said, nor could she go and seek confirmation from the Emperor.

She would have to find a way to verify it herself.

Outside the window, the faint sound of Bolao’s complaints drifted in — apparently locked in a struggle with the scalding hot medicine pot.

Xiao Nanhui hesitated for a moment, then pulled up her sleeve, exposing the iron band at her wrist.

“Has Lady Dai ever seen anything like this — or the markings on it?”

The woman opened those eyes filled with mist and rain, and gazed at the thing at her wrist with an expression half languid and half curious, then spoke after a long while: “It looks quite strange — is it some sort of protective talisman?”

Xiao Nanhui quietly let out a breath of relief, and pulled her sleeve back down. “Not quite. I just found it curious and wanted to show you.”

That iron band had been bestowed upon her by the Emperor, and the symbols engraved on it ought to be the insignia or secret cipher of the imperial personal guard. Lady Dai might perhaps have once seen a mark on the person who had committed the act, but she might also not have noticed — in any case, her reaction just now was reassuring.

Perhaps it was not someone from the Imperial House.

Xiao Nanhui thought this to herself.

After all, she could think of no reason whatsoever for the imperial family to exterminate the Xiao household, nor could she fathom why they would leave Xiao Zhun alive and alone afterward.

But if it was not the Bai Family and not someone from the imperial family, then who could it have been?

As her thoughts turned, she found her brow creasing without thinking, and the next instant Lady Dai had taken her hand.

“Do not sit there looking so glum — shall I tell you a story?”

In the more than ten years she and Lady Dai had spent together, Lady Dai often told her stories when she was lost in thought or in low spirits.

Even though most of the time it was the same few familiar stories from old opera scripts told over and over again, she still never let her impatience show, and always listened from beginning to end.

Xiao Nanhui nodded, and a light came into Lady Dai’s beautiful eyes.

“The story I want to tell is the story of words that come true.”

Xiao Nanhui paused involuntarily, and a strange feeling rose in her heart.

Lady Dai had never told this story before, and she had never come across an opera script by this name among the others.

Lady Dai had clearly not noticed Xiao Nanhui’s reaction. She was immersed in her memories, and even the slight halting quality in her speech gradually grew smoother and more fluent.

“Once upon a time, there was a wealthy household that loved building gardens. The people of that household were all skilled at this: some could carve stone, some could cultivate flowers and plants, some could build earthworks and structures, each fulfilling their own role in seamless coordination. One day, a deity passed by their courtyard, thought it exceedingly beautiful and refined, and called out the head of the household, saying that he was willing to bestow a blessing upon him, and asking what he wished for.”

“The head of the household said that he was always troubled by not knowing when the wind would blow or when rain would fall, and that this often delayed the work in his garden. The deity understood, and bestowed upon that person the ability to foresee the weather.”

“From that time forward, the head of the household found that whenever he muttered in his sleep, he would speak words foretelling the next day’s weather — and those words would come true the following day, without a single exception. As time passed, other households in the city would occasionally come to ask him about the weather the next day, and the head of the household always obliged, answering each in turn. But tastes differ and hearts are difficult to read — those who drove carts hoped for fair weather, while those who sold umbrellas hoped for rain. Gradually, there were always those who were dissatisfied with what the head of the household foretold, and who came to doubt everything he said. Rumors began to spread: that what the deity had bestowed upon the head of the household was a form of sorcery that could control the weather, and that the so-called prophecies were nothing but a pretense.”

At this point, Lady Dai paused. Beads of sweat had appeared on her brow — whether the pain in her old ailment had flared, or the newly added charcoal had raised the warmth of the room, it was hard to say.

Xiao Nanhui felt an inexplicable sense of unease. She helped the woman wipe the sweat from her forehead and asked quietly: “And then?”

“One day, the people of the city gathered together and surrounded the wealthy household’s garden, meaning to burn the family alive. The head of the household prayed to the heavens, begging the deity to take back this divine gift — but the deity never answered again. In the end, in order to preserve the lives of his family, the head of the household cut out his own tongue before everyone present. The next day, all the members of the household vanished from the city.”

A strange and familiar feeling washed over Xiao Nanhui. She had a vague sense that certain details in this story seemed familiar, yet she could not place where that familiarity came from.

“Lady Dai — where did this story come from?”

“Naturally, someone told it to me.”

“Who was it?”

“Who was it?” Confusion slowly rose in the beauty’s eyes, and she slipped back into that earlier slightly sickly state. “Perhaps some acquaintance or friend.”

The door was pushed open, and Bolao came in clumsily carrying the bowl of medicinal broth, calling out to Xiao Nanhui as she came.

“Uncle Chen is outside — says someone from the palace is here looking for you.”