Many days after stepping out of the dark cell within Jingbo Tower, Xiao Nanhui still could not forget the words Bai Yun had spoken.
Huozhou. Heimu Commandery. A private letter.
Long ago, she had come across a line of text recorded in the Censorate’s archives. She had never spoken of this to anyone, and Bai Yun could naturally not have known of it — yet she had spoken of almost exactly the same information.
Which meant that she had once been very, very close to the truth.
At the time, she should have thought to ask: why, if the Censorate had already noticed that unusual letter, was there no record of its contents? Was the letter lost and untraceable, or had someone deliberately erased it?
Xiao Nanhui felt she was drawing close to the center of all these mysteries, yet was trapped in place by the vortex of interwoven secrets.
Where was she to begin? And should she seek the Emperor’s help?
Behind all of this lay a forbidden door she dared not touch — the role the imperial house had played in the events of that year.
Weighing everything carefully, Xiao Nanhui decided for the time being to set this matter aside. If she was unable to find any useful information in Chizhou before the spring hunt, she would have no choice but to travel to Huozhou herself once the great river of Da Shen had thawed and the ice had broken in spring.
Each day she continued to assist Ding Weixiang in tracking the whereabouts of Pu Huna and Zou Sifang. In private, she found opportunities to slip into the old Prince Shuo mansion on Yukun Street, where she began sorting through the few rooms filled with stored odds and ends.
According to what Old Chen had said, when Xiao Zhun moved out and had the new mansion built, he had not touched a single thing in the old mansion. Everything now in the main General’s mansion had been newly acquired when the new residence was established. Xiao Zhun had sealed all his memories of the past inside that courtyard overgrown with weeds, and from the day he left, had never touched a single thing within.
Xiao Nanhui understood the feelings behind that well enough. And so she dared not alarm anyone else.
Among the many scattered letters and manuscripts, she occasionally glimpsed fragments of Prince Shuo Xiao Qing’s past.
This Prince of a different surname — a man of legendary renown and outstanding military achievement — had originally been the only son of the Xiao Family. Yet at the age of nineteen, he had come to have a younger sister. This woman, who later became the darling of both father and elder brother and did not leave home until she was twenty-six, was Xiao Zhun’s paternal aunt, Xiao Dai — known today as Aunt Dai.
Aunt Dai’s birth mother had died young, and the clan genealogy had almost no record of her. The family she married into was not among the palace nobility of the capital, but rather a silk merchant family from another region. After several years of marriage, she had one child, who was given the name Yu Huan. Though he had not been raised with the same rigorous upbringing as his cousins like Xiao Zhun, he had grown up into a perfectly fine young man, and the family was content and warm in their happiness.
Aunt Dai often missed her family home and would bring her son back to Quecheng for every festival and holiday. That year, around the time of the spring hunt, the occasion of Prince Shuo’s fiftieth birthday banquet arrived. After consideration, Aunt Dai decided to come and celebrate her elder brother’s birthday, and brought Yu Huan along with her.
This journey changed the entire course of their lives.
The bloodbath of more than a decade ago had destroyed everything this woman possessed. If she still retained memory of what had happened, she was a living person suffering more than even the dead.
Beyond Aunt Dai’s correspondence with Prince Shuo, Xiao Nanhui also attempted to search for traces of past dealings between the Xiao Family and the Bai Family. Yet whether due to the Commandant Xu Zhi having sent people to search the premises after the disaster all those years ago, she found almost no useful information.
Before Bai Yun had mentioned the matter, she had inferred from the close friendship between Xiao Zhun and Bai Yun the degree of intimacy between the two families. But she had never imagined that Bai He Liu and Prince Shuo could have been the most intimate of friends. Perhaps even those words fell short of describing the nature of their bond — what manner of friendship would compel a man to entrust another with a letter that held the fate of his entire clan?
That letter must conceal a world-shaking secret. And her task was to uncover it.
What is the moment when the bond between people is most quickly forged? When secrets are shared.
Yaoyi had always told her: everyone has secrets. Some are shallow and easily exposed, while others are carefully concealed and nearly impossible to glimpse in a lifetime. You only truly know a person when you know the deepest secret in their heart.
By that logic, those who hold more secrets also hold the power to control the closeness of a relationship.
Such as Su Wei.
Xiao Nanhui looked back over the events of the past several months and found that the beginning of her drawing close to him had been the first time he chose to share a secret.
His secrets came so fast and thick she could barely keep up, filling her with astonishment at every turn. He was like a mountain perpetually shrouded in cloud, a lake still on the surface but bottomless, an ancient idol that had weathered a thousand years of wind and rain in silence — always unfathomably profound, never revealing the slightest crack.
The secrets he kept brought her a singular, unprecedented sensation — like stepping into a world she had never set foot in before, opening a conversation no one else could intrude upon, falling into an embrace of which she knew nothing.
He had used his secrets to occupy her heart.
And for Xiao Nanhui, she had only ever had one secret.
Her feelings for Xiao Zhun, once upon a time — that had been her only secret.
But then why was it that when she shared that secret with him, he had only grown more distant?
There must have been something different there, but Xiao Nanhui could not at the moment work out what that difference was.
For questions she could not answer, emotional debts she could not settle, and upheavals she could not face — she had long since grown accustomed to avoidance.
In times like these, the closer the person, the more she shrank away.
She tried as hard as possible not to bring up what had happened in Jiaosong County, and she had never told those around her that she could no longer draw a bow. Bolao had a shallow heart, unable to hold things too heavy, and incapable of understanding many of her feelings. Yaoyi was too sharp — very little could be hidden from him, and she was already covered in wounds and had no desire to be questioned and needled from every angle. Hao Bai would have been a fitting choice under different circumstances, but he was too close to the Emperor — which gave her some pause. As for Wu Xiaoliu — there was nothing to be said. That was simply a man who only thought about his three daily meals.
After turning it all over, she ultimately reached out quietly to Su Pingchuan, entrusting him with the task of seeking out the finest blacksmiths in Quecheng to forge her a new spear. She had tried one after another, but none had satisfied her.
She was used to Pingxian.
Just as she had grown used to Xiao Zhun.
The things and people that had existed in her life for years were stripped away overnight. Xiao Nanhui went through an unavoidable period of pain, until she suddenly recalled the letter Mo Chunhua had sent her.
Even when it was not wartime, there were always urgent matters to deal with in the military, though fortunately, her current official rank was low and there was far less to deal with than before. Apart from her trips between the barracks and Yukun Street, she had a good portion of her time to spare, and paying Mo Chunhua a visit should not be a difficult thing.
The residence of General Yan was not far from Yukun Street — just in the neighboring area, quite impressively built and meticulous in its elegance, which rather contradicted the somewhat unrestrained character of Yan Guang, who had come from the Yanchi Company. Perhaps it had something to do with the principal wife of orthodox official pedigree, whose family had served in the government for three generations.
Xiao Nanhui had expected Mo Chunhua to be quite happy to see her, but not that happy. Mo Chunhua clung to her, demanding that she make good on her promises — wanting to learn the flower spear one day, the broad-bladed saber the next, then taking an interest in the battle-axe. Xiao Nanhui had nothing much to do and so satisfied her requests one by one, on the one hand whiling away the difficult hours, and on the other using her visits to the Yan household as cover for her private investigations.
But six or seven days passed, and she began to feel distinctly that every time she entered the Yan household, the entire staff seemed to perform a prolonged inspection of her.
At first she had thought it was her imagination, but gradually, even the dim-witted, wall-eyed son of the household gatekeeper was staring at her with the same strange expression.
Xiao Nanhui finally reached her limit, and on her tenth visit to the Yan household, grabbed hold of an inner-courtyard maidservant who had been attempting to flee.
“I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. Why are you running?”
The maidservant was fifteen or sixteen years old, and having grown up from a young age in a wealthy household, had never encountered someone speaking with Xiao Nanhui’s domineering, full-throated force. She immediately squeezed out a few tears on the spot.
“Please have mercy on this servant, my lady. This servant is just a washing maid and knows nothing at all.”
The other party continued to heave and sob while seated on the ground, looking as though her legs had given out beneath her. Xiao Nanhui could not stand the sight and hauled her upright.
“Get up and talk—”
She stopped mid-sentence, having noticed a dark bruise on the maidservant’s wrist. Her tone softened slightly.
“Did someone hit you?”
The maidservant crumpled on the ground, trembling.
“This servant — this servant dares not say.”
“Ah.” Xiao Nanhui let go of her hand, raised an eyebrow, and flicked at her sleeve. “If you dare not say it, then don’t.”
Having said that, she turned and made as if to leave without a second glance. Sure enough, the other party figured it out at once.
“My lady!” The maidservant seized her legs with both hands and dissolved from murmuring into tearful complaints. “Please, my lady, stand up for this servant.”
Though Xiao Nanhui was someone with a soft heart, she had never been fond of women making themselves small and appealing for sympathy, and found this performance vaguely irritating.
“In the first place, I am not any sort of ‘my lady.’ In the second place, I cannot stand up for you. If you want to speak, speak. If not, I will simply treat it as though I never asked and find someone else to question.”
She was about to pull her leg free when the maidservant saw she was serious and adopted another expression of suffering.
“It is — it is the Fourth Young Miss who struck me, and struck me hard, and treated me so cruelly!”
The newly arrived Fourth Young Miss of the Yan household — that wild flower of the western ridge, the untamed savage bloomer of Southern Qiang — Mo Chunhua herself.
No — it was Yan Chunhua now.
Xiao Nanhui snorted through her nose and suddenly found this quite entertaining.
“Ever since the Fourth Young Miss learned some fist techniques from you, she has made a habit of venting her anger on the maids and matrons of the courtyard. Sometimes even the manservants are not spared. This servant is nearby and is always being seized upon as an outlet. This life has truly become unlivable!”
The maidservant grew more agitated as she spoke, looking as though she might cry herself to pieces. Xiao Nanhui could not bear to watch, and also felt that this commotion would sooner or later draw unwanted attention, so she gave the maidservant a few coins to send her away and went straight to Mo Chunhua’s courtyard.
Faced with Xiao Nanhui’s questions, the accused herself — the Fourth Young Miss of the Yan household — made a full confession without any attempt to deny it, all while cracking walnut shells with her fists, delivering an uninhibited account of her own exploits.
Only then did Xiao Nanhui learn that from the very day she had started teaching Mo Chunhua fist techniques, this madwoman had been kicking up trouble every two or three days, pulling up floorboards every three or four days, beating her way through all the maids and matrons of the courtyard, and calling it — quite unapologetically — “first test of a fist technique.”
That mouth with its western ridge accent still showed no sign of stopping. She finally reached her limit, and with one palm strike, shattered the remaining three walnuts on the table.
“If you have the ability, go to the barracks for a proper fight. Bullying little girls and old amahs — what kind of hero is that?!”
Mo Chunhua froze, then let out a shriek and rushed to rescue the walnut remnants that had been reduced to rubble.
The walnut flesh had been crushed to a paste. Mo Chunhua glared at Xiao Nanhui.
“I am not a hero! I am a woman!” She bared her teeth with an expression of wild defiance. “And why should I go to the barracks? There is no one there who bullies me, and I am not so full with nothing to do that I go looking for trouble!”
Xiao Nanhui raised an eyebrow, thoroughly unconvinced.
“Who has been bullying you?”
Mo Chunhua stretched out both hands and began counting on her fingers.
“In the front courtyard at the Principal Madam’s quarters — Green Plum and Emerald Pistil. At the Second Madam’s courtyard next door — Fan Honger, Yuse, and Fugui. At my Third Elder Sister’s place — Little Peach and Su Xing. The wet nurse Nanny Ding who is in cahoots with Elder Sister. The gatekeeper Old Guo who was bribed by Second Elder Sister and that general-manager aunt of his — basically, just everyone I’ve beaten up.”
Xiao Nanhui, whose entire household added up to no more than five people, was deeply shaken by this litany of names.
“You have only been in the household such a short time — how have you made so many enemies?! That washing maid I just ran into—”
Mo Chunhua gave a cold snort. “She is one of the Second Madam’s servants. The personal attendant of a mistress was always lurking outside my window eavesdropping. She was doused with my wash water twice and still did not learn her lesson. A few good beatings is already getting off lightly.”
“Is there truly no one in this Yan household who does not consider you an enemy? Is there anyone who is not on the opposing side?”
Mo Chunhua picked her teeth and gave the matter careful thought.
“The yellow dog kept in the back kitchen barely counts as being on my side.”
Xiao Nanhui was briefly at a loss for words. She found the infighting of the inner courtyard both absurd and ridiculous, and Mo Chunhua’s eye-for-an-eye methods left her somewhere between laughter and tears.
She had thought that in the month or so since they had last seen each other, Mo Chunhua had been thriving in the Yan household — ordering the small kitchen to prepare all manner of delicacies, filling several little chests with new clothes and jewelry. Now it was clear that the seven or eight “pious souls” of Yan Guang’s principal wife had not skimped in making things difficult for her behind the scenes.
Yet Mo Chunhua seemed entirely indifferent. She ate when she wanted to eat and drank when she wanted to drink. When she learned a fist technique, she directed it without a second thought at anyone who crossed her, without any concern for the consequences.
By comparison, though she herself was a frontier general who had seen rather a lot of the world and prided herself on her leisure, she had always had to consider so many things in private — truly living in quite a pathetic, constrained manner.
She felt a touch of dissatisfaction, and tried to offer some earnest counsel.
“You are remarkably composed. Are you not afraid that if you come to blows, it will give people something to hold over you? Besides, if it ever comes down to it, you have nothing to prove, and you will likely be the one who loses out. When General Yan returns and all those gossips put their heads together and talk, where will you have any standing left?”
Mo Chunhua flashed a smile, though her tone was entirely serious.
“I came prepared. If Old Yan does not back me up, I can always go back to the western ridge. I am used to living wild — I can take cold and hunger. What I cannot take is being wronged. My mother may have been illiterate and without much ability, but she never once let me be wronged.”
Xiao Nanhui was struck still, and fell into a thoughtful silence.
For a principal wife to bring back a child born to a foreign slave woman and raise it under the same roof — it was clear that Yan Guang had genuine feelings for Mo Chunhua.
But the worlds they lived in had always been two different worlds. Even if there were ties that could not be untied and bonds that could not be cut, the gulf created by that difference and distance would never be filled.
This inevitably made her think of someone who was always appearing at her side, yet whom she always felt she could not reach.
Sometimes she often wondered: if that day at Yongye Temple she had not sought that divination slip, would she and he ever have had any connection at all?
The fabric and clothing on his person was an elaborate, expensive texture to the touch. His every gesture carried the bearing of those who dwelt in the high halls of power. Even the scent that lingered around him breathed of an altar’s atmosphere.
But she was different.
Plain cotton garments and simple shoes. Far from the rivers and lakes. Living among the common people.
The distance between her and him had always been even greater than the distance between Mo Chunhua and the Yan household.
She thought of that embrace, of that kiss, of the hand that had taken hers—
If — she said, if — there came a day when she would leave the world she had always known and resolve to go to his side, would it be like Mo Chunhua now — leaving behind the familiar homeland, trapped in a courtyard where human hearts were cold, ready from the day of arrival to leave at any moment?
The walls of the imperial palace were far higher than those of the Yan household. The women of the imperial palace were far more beautiful than those of the Yan household. The Emperor’s heart was far more complex than the general’s.
Mo Chunhua could take cold and hunger but could not take being wronged. She could bear to be alone but could not bear to lose her freedom.
If that day ever truly arrived, the courage she would need would be far, far greater than any Mo Chunhua would ever need.
“Are you going to keep teaching me today or not? You only got halfway through yesterday’s lesson.” Seeing that she had been silent for so long, Mo Chunhua was a little puzzled, then seemed to think of something. “If you are worried about all their gossip, I can come to your place instead.”
If she could settle in peace at the Xiao household, why would she be spending her days visiting the Yan household to pass the time?
Xiao Nanhui waved a hand to decline, and for no discernible reason suddenly felt her energy deflate, even her voice losing its edge.
“I think the little bit of martial arts I know is not going to be of much use to you anyway. I’ll introduce you to a new teacher another day — excellent at fighting, and also quite skilled at scheming. I’m sure you’ll be satisfied.”
“As long as it is not that Lu Songping, anyone will do.” Mo Chunhua, as though something had crossed her mind, let out a cold laugh through her teeth. “That time when enemy forces attacked at Suyan, he stuffed me into a supply cart hauling grain. I was shaken around in there for three full days and nights before he let me out.”
“Is that so?” Xiao Nanhui laughed somewhat guiltily, feeling quietly grateful she had not let Lu Songping’s name slip just now.
Suddenly, movement stirred in the courtyard outside — mixed with what sounded like the voices of several women, drawing gradually closer.