The weather had warmed, and the sky over Quecheng was brightening a little earlier each day than it had before.

Just past the mao hour, the city streets were already fully lit. Industrious vendors had finished sweeping and were waiting for the first customers of the morning.

A household servant, yawning early, slipped out to a back alley and found a secluded spot by a tree root, untied his trousers, and began to relieve himself.

He was only halfway through when he heard something stir directly above him. Dumbly, he looked up — and saw a dark shape drop from the sky, hitting the ground two paces away with a heavy thud.

The dust settled to reveal a disheveled, haggard figure with hair half-undone — on closer inspection, a woman in men’s clothing, her complexion quite grim.

Without so much as glancing at him, the woman walked out toward the main street with heavy steps. The servant stood there staring with his mouth open and did not notice until it was too late that he had soaked his own shoe.

Xiao Nanhui’s mood was wholly at odds with the bright May sunshine.

The previous night, she had coaxed and cajoled Dujuan into leaving through both soft words and stern ones, then perched in a tree by the back gate of the Chancellor’s residence from dusk until the first vegetable sellers arrived at dawn — and never once caught sight of the face she wanted to see, the one that made her grind her teeth.

She should have known. “Guest of the Chancellor’s residence” — what a load of nonsense. She could not believe she had been so thoroughly taken in by that solemn-faced deception, handing over the item without a word of protest.

At the thought of returning to the Marquis Mansion and facing Xiao Zhun, Xiao Nanhui’s stomach knotted. She had gone off on this reckless errand without permission, abandoned her duties at the camp without so much as a notice, and was now coming back completely empty-handed. Every time she thought about it, she felt her face had nowhere to hide.

Her feet dragged, reluctant to turn in the direction of the Qinghuai Marquis Mansion, and she wandered idly until she found herself on Yukun Road.

The largest property on Yukun Road was the old mansion of Prince Shuo — the place where Xiao Zhun had grown up.

But after what had happened all those years ago, it had stood empty for a long time. In Xiao Nanhui’s memory, Xiao Zhun often came here alone to walk among its shadows. He didn’t like her following him inside, so she would always wait at the foot of the towering front gate, and her impression of Prince Shuo’s Mansion had never extended beyond the two bronze-patinated lion-head knockers on the gate.

Though she knew well enough that behind those high walls there was nothing but weeds and mice, still she was curious. She felt those walls contained a piece of Xiao Zhun’s past — the part that had existed before her.

Over the years, she had found herself drifting down this street from time to time. Just like today.

Xiao Nanhui let out a sigh, spotted a teahouse that had already opened nearby, and sat down, deciding to fill her stomach first.

The teahouse was livelier in the early morning than she had expected. The early risers were mostly merchants from the surrounding area, along with a few travelers hurrying to get out of the city — all of them with the brisk, purposeful air of people with somewhere to be.

Xiao Nanhui had deliberately chosen a seat in the thick of the crowd. She had been gone from the city for nearly a month and needed to catch up on what was happening in the streets — and the teahouses that merchants frequented were the best place for that.

No sooner had she sat down than a conversation from the table behind her filtered into her ears.

“Head Li, I can see you’re already packed and ready to go, and I should probably hold my tongue — but we’ve been doing business together for years. I can’t just stand by and watch you walk into danger.”

Head Li sounded genuinely surprised. “Brother, what do you mean? I’ve been running goods along the western route for years. If you’re worried about that flooding from the other day—”

“This has nothing to do with the flooding. Come closer—”

The voice dropped very low, but Xiao Nanhui’s hearing was sharper than most, and she caught every word.

By this point the diligent shop owner had already brought a steaming bamboo basket of soup dumplings to her table. She decided she could eat and eavesdrop at the same time, took a deep pull of cool tea, and reached her chopsticks toward the basket.

“Have you heard? The Kang Prince in the Ling Xi region was assassinated over a month ago.”

Xiao Nanhui’s chopsticks jolted. The dumpling she had just grasped dropped back into the basket with a wet smack, skin and filling separating on impact.

Head Li and the other diners at the table went audibly still: “You can’t say such things lightly! If a feudal prince is dead, there’s nothing left between Bijiang and Wancheng to hold the line!”

The voice behind her continued: “Would I joke about something this serious? My younger brother-in-law is stationed at the northern camp drill grounds outside the city — he says Tiancheng has already started reorganizing its forces. With that kind of certainty, war can’t be far off. The western road will be closed before long.”

“No wonder the undyed silk from Ling Xi has been out of stock — I thought I was overthinking it, but it turns out something really has happened…”

The voices behind her went on, but to Xiao Nanhui they had dissolved into a dull buzzing in which she could no longer pick out individual words.

The shop owner came around with a jar of vinegar for the table with the dumpling order, but when he turned the corner he found the seat empty. The basket of dumplings sat there with only a single chopstick mark in it, beside which lay a silver ingot, broken in half.

The shop owner picked up the silver and looked left and right: “Sir? Sir? I haven’t given you your change—”

The street stretched out clear and empty in both directions. There was no sign of the young man who had been sitting there just moments ago — a turn of speed that made the mind boggle.

She had seen signs of this coming for a while now, yet hearing it confirmed still sent her heart slamming against her ribs. The Kang Prince was a mediocre ruler, yet he held ten thousand troops and had governed as a feudal lord in his own territory. To be assassinated in his own domain — that could only mean the forces in Bijiang had grown far more powerful than she had imagined.

Xiao Nanhui cut straight back to the Marquis Mansion at a near-run. Without waiting for Chen Cai to open the door, she vaulted over the wall and made directly for Xiao Zhun’s study.

Chen Cai was just coming out of a room with a pile of old clothes and bedding, and when he saw Xiao Nanhui, disheveled and urgent, he was startled. It took him a moment to collect himself, and he hurried toward her.

“Miss, you’re finally back — why didn’t you send word? What’s all this rushing about?”

Xiao Nanhui was still a little breathless, no time to explain. She glanced toward the study; it appeared to be empty.

“Uncle Chen, where is my father?”

“An urgent summons came from the palace last night — His Majesty commanded all officials above the fifth rank to appear at court at the yin hour this morning. The General left early.”

So the Emperor had already begun pressing his court officials over this matter. In all likelihood, Xiao Zhun was about to receive military orders.

“Then — then I’ll wait for him in the study.”

Xiao Nanhui turned to go there, but Chen Cai caught her by the arm.

“Don’t be in such a hurry, Miss. After you crossed into Chizhou, the General knew your movements and anticipated you would be back in the last day or two. He left word with me to tell you: the situation is pressing, and he likely won’t have time to return to the mansion. He said to go find him directly at the camp.”

Of course. With things as they were, Xiao Zhun was about to become too busy to be seen. She had known this year would not be a peaceful one.

“Is that troublemaker Bolao back? Jixiang is still with her — I need it to ride to the camp.”

Chen Cai nodded and quickly shoved the bundle in his arms into a nearby storage chest: “She crept back last night. The horse I fed just this morning — take it and go. But don’t leave just yet. Let me fetch Dujuan to bring you a change of clothes. You can’t show up looking like this — the General will worry.”

At the sound of Dujuan’s name, Xiao Nanhui’s legs went a little unsteady. Her expression betrayed her despite herself. Chen Cai saw it and smiled — the smile of someone who missed nothing: “Don’t fret, Miss. Dujuan is sensible. She knows what matters and what doesn’t — she won’t give you trouble over this right now. Only try not to be this reckless again. It does give people a fright.”

The old steward’s back was not quite as straight as it had been in years past, and his temples had gone white. The trace of gentle reproach in his voice made Xiao Nanhui feel warm and guilty all at once. She said nothing, only murmured her assent.

Half an hour later, Xiao Nanhui arrived at the northern outskirts camp, horse and rider together before the gate. A red banner bearing the character for “stern” snapped in the wind, looking even more severe than usual. Xiao Zhun’s battalion consisted primarily of cavalry and archers; because they had held the northern defense line for so many years, they had been granted the camp name “Stern North” — the largest single military force in Tiancheng, and the one garrisoned closest to Quecheng was this particular division.

Jixiang knew the place well. Once Xiao Nanhui released her, the horse ambled off toward the stables on its own.

Most of the men in the camp recognized Xiao Nanhui, but military regulations still required each person’s identification token to be verified before anyone was allowed through. By the time she was finally inside, the change in atmosphere was immediately apparent.

The armaments supervisor — someone who normally never showed his face — was now rushing back and forth between the barracks in obvious haste. The ground was crisscrossed with deep cart ruts left by loads of armor, shields, and halberds being moved. Not a single one of the team leaders who usually shared her rotation was anywhere to be seen; they had almost certainly been called away by their company commanders to be reorganized into battle formations.

Everything pointed to the same conclusion: war had come, and there was no way to avoid it.

Thinking of how she had been wandering through Huozhou without a care not long ago, Xiao Nanhui felt a chill of retrospective dread. If she had returned a few days later, she might not have been able to see Xiao Zhun at all — once war broke out, it would be iron horses and battle blades, life and death separated by a breath. She would have regretted it endlessly.

Lost in thought, she continued walking with her head down toward Xiao Zhun’s tent.

Without warning, a gust of force came at her from the rear-right — fast and fierce. Xiao Nanhui twisted sideways and barely dodged it, then looked up to see a face she recognized without any surprise.

There was only one person here who would still refuse to let her be, even now.

“Xu Shu — this is a camp. Unprovoked fighting is a violation of military code.” Xiao Nanhui kept her voice controlled, though her anger was barely contained. The other person clearly did not share her sense of propriety.

“What fighting? This is just a friendly spar between fellow soldiers.”

The young man had the face of someone constitutionally incapable of taking anything seriously. The scar above his left brow — courtesy of Xiao Nanhui — gave him an edge of something wicked when he raised an eyebrow, which Xiao Nanhui translated plainly as: asking for a beating.

Xu Shu was the son of the current Chief Justice Xu Zhi and was the same age as Xiao Nanhui. He was also one of Xiao Zhun’s most capable deputy generals.

Xiao Nanhui had always tried to time her arrivals at the camp for the last round of the night watch — precisely to avoid running into Xu Shu.

She had always thought him a peculiar person.

When they had first met, Xiao Zhun had also been acting on a request from Xu Zhi: the two of them were the same age and both training under him, so why not practice together? Xu Shu, apparently inheriting his father’s sly nature, had been slick from childhood. In front of Xiao Zhun he was the model of a respectful “Brother,” deferential to a fault — but behind that back, he mocked her for being a girl, said she was too fragile and soft to be training in a military camp like any real soldier. And yet when they actually trained together, he never once pulled his punches against her — he was, if anything, rougher on her than on the men. Xiao Nanhui understood: he was trying to make her give up, to prove he had been right about her from the start.

But Xiao Nanhui was exactly the age to not accept defeat. From the moment she began training under Xiao Zhun, she stopped thinking of herself as a girl. Whether she was being hit or suffering some underhanded move, she never complained to Xiao Zhun — at most she would let it all out to Yaoyi in a long, cathartic rant, and that would be that.

The worst incident: Xu Shu had deliberately swapped the practice wooden rod for an iron pole without the training tip attached. The intention was simply to make her call for mercy during a witnessed match. But Xiao Nanhui’s stubbornness overrode her judgment, and even when her wooden rod was shattered, she refused to yield. She fought on with nothing but her body. Xu Shu, unable to win decisively, and with the watching soldiers egging them on, let his temper get the better of him — and drove the pole straight through her right thigh.

Everyone present was young, and they all went white with shock. Xiao Nanhui dragged herself, iron pole still buried in her leg, to find Xiao Zhun. By the time she got there, her whole trouser leg was soaked in blood.

That night, Xiao Zhun used the same iron pole to beat Xu Shu so severely he could not get out of bed for three months, then personally carried Xu Shu to the Xu family home to apologize for the incident. Xu Zhi was as shrewd and pliable as they came — even with his son beaten to that state, he understood that picking a fight with the Qinghuai Marquis was not rational, and after both sides exchanged apologies, the matter was considered closed.

After that, the unbearable years of joint practice finally ended — but the grudge between Xiao Nanhui and Xu Shu was firmly established.

She had assumed that as they got older, things between them might ease somewhat. Unfortunately, as things stood now — not the slightest improvement.

“Move.” Xiao Nanhui had no time to spare for banter.

Xu Shu’s response was to grab her by the arm in a close hold. Xiao Nanhui broke it off and he came straight back in, pressing the skirmish. After several exchanges, her patience ran out and she was about to strike back when Xu Shu abruptly stepped away and called out: “General on site.”

Xiao Nanhui startled and pulled her strike back — and in that single moment of distraction, Xu Shu had his opening. He seized her by the waistband and flung her.

The move was vicious. A throw like this nearly always sent the opponent headfirst into the ground, and even a clean landing meant a mouthful of dust and dirt all over one’s clothes. She had just changed into a dark-colored outfit; to show up before Xiao Zhun looking like that would be deeply embarrassing.

Skill alone had never been her problem — but when it came to fighting with her wits, she always ended up on the losing side.

Xiao Nanhui braced herself for the impact, trying to adjust her position mid-fall —

— and dropped instead into a broad, steady embrace. The person behind her had strength in their arms: they absorbed the force smoothly, caught her clean, and set her firmly back on her feet.

She was held in that embrace for only an instant. But she could not seem to find her way back out of it.

She did not need to turn around to know who this was.

“Father.”