Ever since returning from Jiaosong County, Xiao Nanhui had already braced herself to return to her former “idle” life.

The Guangyao troops and the northern border had different duties, and so the rank of soldiers and officers differed as well. But speaking of a camp guard — it was probably not much higher in rank than her old post as a squad leader.

In a position like that, even within the camp there was not much to do. When would palace duties ever fall to her? Unless—

Xiao Nanhui’s heartbeat grew unsteady, and her instinct was to flee. But she knew perfectly well she could not afford to offend anyone sent from the palace. She had no choice but to change into her camp guard’s cloth armor, redo her hair, and go to the front hall with a stiff resolve.

Standing in the center of the front hall were two people. One wore crimson robes and a black cap, with a jade tablet hanging from his wrist — the kind only the Emperor’s personal attendants were permitted to carry. The other wore dark robes with a jade crown, and he was that single-surname chamberlain from the Emperor’s side.

The last time she had seen him was at the Jiaosong traveling palace. She had been alone in a room with his precious master, and had put a bloody hole clean through the other’s hand.

Xiao Nanhui silently lamented this, her heart beating a little faster. She stood there wavering for a moment before finally stepping forward.

The moment she stepped out, she regretted it. She had been demoted, and the protocol was different from before — she was not sure of the correct form of salutation toward Dan Jiangfei, whose rank was far above an ordinary attendant. But the two of them had already heard the movement and turned around.

After a few days apart, Dan Jiangfei still wore that same smiling expression, as though what had happened at the traveling palace had long been cast aside. Yet Xiao Nanhui felt that there was something else in that smile now.

Before she could work out what that additional emotion was, the other had already spoken first.

“Chief Guard Xiao need not be so formal. We have come only to pass on a word from His Majesty, and to deliver something.”

Having said this, Dan Jiangfei signaled the crimson-robed attendant to carry a wooden box forward.

“His Majesty wishes to remind Chief Guard Xiao not to forget her oath.”

Xiao Nanhui was taken aback. After a pause, she stepped forward and accepted that heavy crate.

A square lacquer box of a deep reddish-purple. No mother-of-pearl decoration, no pattern — yet the smooth, mirror-like surface and texture declared its quality to be at least on the level of sacrificial ceremonial goods.

With a small push, she lifted the lid. Inside, unmistakably, was the ceremonial sword she had smashed on the day of the rites.

Xiao Nanhui felt both shocked and amused at herself. She had casually made up a line about finding a fine artisan to recase the jade sword in gold and silver — and yet today someone had actually seized her by the collar, demanding she honor the promise.

It had never occurred to her that someone who had to read and make decisions on countless memorials and large and small affairs day after day would still have the spare energy to manage something this trivial.

In the end, it was no one’s fault but her own for speaking those words. She could blame no one else.

She pressed down her awkwardness, closed the lid, bowed her head, and said in a muffled voice:

“This subject will most certainly honor her oath to show her loyalty.”

“Very good.” Dan Jiangfei smiled contentedly, the lines at the corners of his eyes nearly flying up into his temples. He then gave an unobtrusive wave of his hand. “There is also one small matter. Chief Guard Xiao, might you come a little closer?”

Xiao Nanhui did not understand, but had no choice but to move a little nearer.

The other raised a cupped palm beside his mouth, lowering his voice.

“The Upper Serpent Festival in the third month this year — His Majesty wishes to resume the spring hunt. And the examination of newly ranked officers falls around those same few days. As a result, every camp officer is very occupied, and capable officers with experience are the only ones left to be seconded to the palace to help with the preparations.”

And? So?

Xiao Nanhui blinked, then glanced again at this enigmatic chamberlain.

Dan Jiangfei gave a light cough, dropping his voice even lower.

“Many people from the Guangyao Camp recommended you for this. His Majesty has always valued the recognition of worthy persons — and does not place excessive importance on seniority. So this duty has fallen to you, Chief Guard Xiao.”

Hold on — how had this become her duty?

She had only been appointed and transferred to the Guangyao Camp a little over half a year ago, and during those six months she had spent almost half of that time alone in the western ridge regions. In the Guangyao Camp, aside from Su Pingchuan, there were probably very few people who could even call her by name — who exactly had recommended her?!

And furthermore — could this really be called a small matter? If anything, it sounded far more like trouble.

The complex expression on Xiao Nanhui’s face said nearly as much as if she had written the words “I wish to decline” across her face.

“With all due respect — the brothers in the camp were probably just being polite. Such words should not be taken literally. Not to mention, this subject is of low ability and limited standing, and has just had her rank stripped. I fear I cannot shoulder such an important task, and should I fail His Majesty’s trust, it would be most—”

“Ah!” Dan Jiangfei switched to a look of earnest disappointment. “How can Chief Guard Xiao be so thick-headed? Precisely because you have been stripped of your official rank, the matter of the military selections does not concern you — and that is why this new duty has fallen on you. Mark my words: the military selections are a hotbed of hidden currents every year, but the spring hunt is an easy posting. When fortune follows misfortune and the clouds part to let sunlight through, you must seize this opportunity well.”

This manner of persuasion was quite artful. On the one hand, it wore the sign of acting in her best interest, every word spoken with sincerity and earnest care. On the other hand, it also made his position clear — if she pushed back any further and refused, she would look as though she were ungrateful and deliberately difficult.

Xiao Nanhui managed a stiff smile, and could only resort to a strategic retreat.

“Might I ask what this preparation work entails, and where one reports for duty?”

“Certainly, certainly. The hunting excursion has not been held for many years, so all the details need to be discussed and reported back to His Majesty at any time — so naturally it is within the city. As for exactly what the duties entail, this servant is too much of an outsider to explain it clearly. It is mostly things to do with horses, bows, and the hunting grounds. Chief Guard Xiao, truly there is nothing to worry about.”

The more he insisted she should not worry, the more the anxiety in Xiao Nanhui’s heart made itself plain.

At the thought of everything that had happened at the Jiaosong traveling palace, tremors and unease crept up her spine.

Her instincts told her: beneath the calm, rippleless surface of what lay ahead was a pitch-black, bottomless whirlpool — if she stepped forward, she did not know when she might be pulled in, dragged down into the abyss, never again to see the light of day.

Yet she had no retreating path now. The Xiao household was no longer her safe harbor. If she did not move forward, where else was there to go?

“Then allow me to settle what is at hand, and I will report for duty.”

“The Guangyao Camp has already been notified. The place for these preparations is not easy to find — why not follow this servant right now and get acquainted with the location and situation.”

This had been calculated from the start that she would come. Xiao Nanhui made one final effort to stall.

“There are a few small odds and ends I need to prepare first…”

“The spring hunt is a matter of the imperial family — all necessary provisions will be arranged directly by the palace, to avoid giving anyone grounds for criticism. If Chief Guard Xiao has any other special requirements, you may speak to this servant directly — no need to trouble yourself with the arrangements.”

What special requirements could she have? She simply found this matter suspicious and was trying to drag her feet and delay. But these few lines of the other made it clear he intended to leave with her right now. And even if she had ten thousand more replies ready, each one would be sent back.

“Then I must trouble you to lead the way.”

When Xiao Nanhui left the Xiao household, she did not know that what Dan Jiangfei had meant by “within the city” referred to within the military camp — and even less did she know it was the Black Feather Army camp.

The Black Feather Camp had four garrison points within Quecheng: two inside the city, one near the north city gate, and one at the southwest corner of the imperial palace. This was the one before her now.

The Black Feather Camp was lean in personnel, and not large in scale, yet it occupied the highest vantage point in the entire city’s defenses. The camp entrance was set beneath the western bell-and-drum tower — concealed and narrow on the outside, yet a world unto itself on the inside, with a training ground, barracks, and an armory, all fully equipped.

Dan Jiangfei led Xiao Nanhui deeper inside. Entry was granted by the same iron band on Xiao Nanhui’s wrist.

The Black Feather garrison remained as alert and disciplined as ever — taut without and relaxed within. Whatever had happened in Jiaosong County did not appear to have affected anyone in the camp at all. Everyone was still bearing their unmoved, well-trained manner. Dan Jiangfei displayed his iron band, and after that no one spared Xiao Nanhui a second glance. Everyone was busy with their own affairs. Even the most ordinary soldiers carried themselves with particular dignity and self-possession.

Thinking back to the trials and tribulations of starting out as a squad leader in the Beizhi Camp all those years ago, Xiao Nanhui felt a pang of something bittersweet in her heart. Then, thinking of her current circumstances, she felt a renewed wave of sorrow.

To think that after all those years of slow slog, that squad leader’s post had finally seemed like a way out — and yet all of it had turned out to be nothing but an illusion.

Perhaps she was simply fated from birth to be a squad leader, nothing more. Some people were born without the fortune for high station — to carry too much power was too great a burden for those of light fate.

“Chief Guard Xiao, we are almost there.”

Dan Jiangfei’s voice came from the far end of a narrow lane behind the training ground. Xiao Nanhui came back to herself and quickened her pace to follow. Only then did she notice that the far end was a dead end. Behind a wall several zhang high grew an unbroken line of deep-colored pine and cypress. The rugged greenish stone wall looked a little worn, and after three days soaking in rain, a thick layer of green moss had grown over it.

So this was the place? Xiao Nanhui was puzzled.

Dan Jiangfei lowered his head without speaking, and made no move to observe Xiao Nanhui’s expression. From his chest he drew out a jade tablet and slid it sideways into the mortar between the mossy bricks. A dull clicking sound resonated from deep within the wall, and then that section of stone bricks sank inward about a zhang, descending into a fathomless darkness.

A deep, hollow entrance appeared, and a damp, cold air seeped out through it, brushing across Xiao Nanhui’s astonished face.

“This servant will see you only this far. Chief Guard Xiao may ascend from here. There is a regulation here that no lanterns may be lit — please watch your step.”

Xiao Nanhui swallowed, her legs suddenly a little unsteady.

She was not afraid of the dark. She was not afraid of ghosts. She was afraid of the person she might encounter on the other side of this darkness.

In the past, she had met that person in the dark of Zou Old Master’s underground cellar, surrounded by rotting cabbages. He had sat there then, and though his smile had occasionally seemed unfathomably deep, she had never thought much of him.

After all, who would invest much thought or feeling in someone who might be no more than a passing stranger?

Yet the fated connections between people had their own hidden measure.

The bond she had expected to last her whole life had broken easily. And the bond she had assumed was nothing more than a fleeting encounter clung to her like spider-silk and fine drizzle — no matter how fiercely she swung her blade, she could not cut through it.

She let out a breath, and stepped into that boundless darkness.

The stone steps beyond that entrance were narrow and steep, winding upward with no visible end.

Darkness and cold, damp air closed in around her and swallowed her whole. The light behind her receded. Gradually, all she could hear was the sound of her own hurried breathing echoing off the stone walls.

Darkness and silence stole away all sense of space and time. A span that could have been only a cup of tea felt as long as a lifetime.

Dimly, she had a strange sense of illusion: that at some moment in the past, she had been to a place like this — a place with winding stone steps and no light at all.

And yet she clearly remembered that she had never been to any such place.

Perhaps, it was in a dream.

She did not know how much more time passed, but the darkness finally ended. First, a breeze lifted past the ends of her hair, and then she felt a shifting, flowing light settle on her face.

Her eyes, long adapted to darkness, took a moment to adjust to the brightness around her. Only then did Xiao Nanhui notice that the moving light was a stretch of water, smooth and flat as a mirror.

The end of the passage opened onto a wide terrace. Above the terrace stretched a sky that had cleared after days of rain — clear and cold, a pale grey — beneath which hung a sun, somewhat pallid.

A formation of northbound grey geese flew past. The beat of their wings scattered the quiet air.

Xiao Nanhui walked forward a few steps without thinking. She found herself standing atop a high pavilion. Directly ahead of the pavilion was that stretch of water — perfectly square, bare, without so much as a single lotus leaf. And perhaps due to the numerous obstructions surrounding it, the surface of the water was still to an uncanny degree, flat and even as a piece of mirror.

What a strange lake.

Xiao Nanhui looked down. Reflected in the mirror-like surface of the water, she could make out the plaque on the high pavilion where she stood. The characters on it read — “Still-Wave Tower.”

High pavilions and terraces had always been privileges reserved for the imperial family and nobility. Outside the palace walls, they were few and far between, and among that small number, she had never once heard of a tower called the Still-Wave Tower.

What place was this, exactly? Why would it lie at the heart of the Black Feather Camp garrison? And why had Dan Jiangfei led her here—

“Have you looked your fill?”

A familiar voice sounded behind her. She had by now grown so familiar with this voice that she could recognize it from a single note.

Xiao Nanhui suddenly felt a strong impulse to throw herself off this tower’s railing.

The impulse was only an impulse. She still had to turn and salute.

“This subject kowtows in greeting to Your Majesty.”

She kept her head bowed throughout, not looking at him. The other made no sound either.

For a time, neither of them spoke. The wind stirred the bronze bells at the eave’s corners, making a faint tinkling. It brought with it a coolness left behind by the rain.

The weather was fine, and the view on all sides was wide and open. Were it not for the circumstances at this moment, this might have been quite a pleasant occasion for climbing a high place and gazing into the distance.

Su Wei lazily glanced at Xiao Nanhui standing there, head bowed and silent.

“Come closer.”

Xiao Nanhui lifted her head slightly. Su Wei was leaning sideways against the railing of the terrace that jutted outward, his body draped in a thick, heavy cloak with both arms hidden beneath it.

She hesitated for a moment, then still did not move.

He glanced at her but said nothing. He shifted slightly, adjusting his posture where he half-reclined. His left hand went to support his body but struck the injury, and he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, his frame momentarily unsteady.

By the time he raised his head again, Xiao Nanhui had already moved swiftly forward. Her half-extended hand reached toward him, but stopped just short of touching, and she drew it back timidly.

Su Wei noticed this. His face gave nothing away. “If I suffer any mishap while you are in my company, that would be your failure as my attendant.”

Xiao Nanhui started, realizing that the person before her was threatening her. She felt that the worry and guilt she had just felt were entirely wasted. Her heart hardened, and her words came out again without thinking.

“This subject came in armor. The cloth is rough and coarse — I fear it may scratch the imperial person.”

A terrible excuse.

Su Wei’s eyelids drooped. “Indeed.”

Xiao Nanhui quietly let out a breath of relief.

The voice from where he sat came again: “Then the subject may remove the armor first, and then come forward.”

Xiao Nanhui’s eyes went wide and she raised her head.