“Imperial decree arrives! Qinghuai Marquis Mansion’s Xiao Nanhui, receive the decree!”

The resounding voice pulled Xiao Nanhui from her hungover stupor. She managed a sluggish roll, feeling as though a burning coal were lodged in her stomach. Her clothes were still the ones she had been drinking in the night before, and she had only removed one boot. She tumbled headfirst out of bed, and was still half-dazed when Dujuan dragged her out of the room — she had already knelt on the ground before it registered that she was supposed to receive a decree.

“Is this Xiao Nanhui, Squad Leader Xiao?”

The palace attendant cast a sidelong glance down at her, confirming a second time that this disheveled, improperly dressed woman before him was indeed the person to whom he was to read the decree.

Xiao Nanhui tried to answer in a clear voice, but her throat produced a ragged croak: “It is.”

Ugh — what were the proper etiquette rules for receiving a decree again? This couldn’t count as showing disrespect to the Emperor, could it?

Hold on — why was there an imperial decree? And it was addressed not to Xiao Zhun but to her? Could it be that the young man from the Chancellor’s manor, having benefited, was now going around boasting about it before the Emperor and saying something?

Xiao Nanhui recalled Xiao Zhun’s warning to her in the military camp yesterday, and a chill settled in her heart. On the carriage ride back, she had actually said some unflattering things about the Emperor — what had she said, exactly?

Xiao Nanhui waited in uneasy apprehension. The burning in her stomach turned to cold sweat sliding down her temple. The palace attendant reading the decree, on the other hand, was taking his leisurely time fiddling with it.

Tiancheng’s imperial decrees were sealed with three jade fasteners, which were to be removed one by one during the reading to demonstrate that no one had broken the seal since the Emperor personally brushed the decree.

“Xiao Nanhui of Qinghuai Marquis Mansion, receive this decree. Xiao has served with tireless dedication — a distinguished example for the court. She is courageous in eliminating enemies and has slain hundreds, conducting herself with integrity and dealing with others uprightly. She bears an ambitious resolve to recover lost territories and revive the military. Therefore, she is hereby specially appointed to the position of Right General of the Guangyao Camp, awarded one hundred taels of gold and one set of Guangyao armor. Respectfully received.”

Xiao Nanhui stood listening in a daze, and only after a moment’s pause did she accept the decree and bow.

“Your subject receives the decree and gives humble thanks for the Emperor’s grace.”

“Congratulations, General Xiao — officially ranked at the fourth rank, senior grade. Choose an auspicious day to enter the palace and offer thanks in person.”

The palace attendant and his retinue departed in a grand procession. Xiao Nanhui still stood in place, not yet having recovered her composure.

The Emperor had actually raised her rank and awarded her gold?

“Hey, why are you standing there in a daze? The Emperor’s giving you gold — aren’t you happy?” Dujuan carefully lifted that tray of gleaming gold, already beginning to calculate in her heart how to put this money toward household expenses. “I was startled this morning when they said someone had come from the palace — I thought you’d gone and caused trouble again. Who knew you’d actually earned some merit. Why didn’t you say anything before? You had me scolding you for nothing.”

“Dujuan — doesn’t the title Right General sound somewhat familiar to you?”

Dujuan’s mind was clearly elsewhere, playing with the one hundred taels of gold, her face lit up with delight: “Does it? I’d never heard it before. Never mind the title — a general is a general.”

Had the Tiancheng dynasty ever had a position called Right General? It seemed not. But why did she feel as though she had heard something similar very recently?

“Who is Left General now? Is it General Yu?” She recalled that Yu Jin had long held that post, and that he and Xiao Zhun had perpetually disagreed on military strategy — yet lately she hadn’t heard any news of the two of them clashing.

“Old General Yu Jin? I don’t think so — a while back the people at the medicine hall were saying he came down with rheumatism. After long treatment with no improvement, the Emperor gave him permission to retire and return to his hometown. But a second son from Duke Xuanyuan’s family was appointed Left General in his place. Oh right — you were still in Huozhou at the time, so you probably didn’t hear. Do you remember the second son from Duke Xuanyuan’s household? I recall you met him briefly when you were children. Oh my, I saw him when he returned to the city the other day, and he looks absolutely nothing like he did as a boy. Men really do change so much as they grow up…”

Dujuan was still chattering away, but Xiao Nanhui had long since let it go in one ear and out the other.

Su Pingchuan — Duke Xuanyuan’s second legitimate son, eighteen years old this year, two years younger than she was.

Ten years ago, she had knocked out one of his front teeth in his family’s back garden.

Of course she remembered that.

Could that be called a “brief meeting”? That was more like a grudge over a tooth.

She also remembered that she had seen him just a few days ago.

And she had actually gone up to him shamelessly and asked: did he recognize her?

Looking back on it now — of course he recognized her.

In Tiancheng, left held higher precedence than right, which meant Su Pingchuan outranked her by one grade. The two now served in the same camp in similar positions, and would inevitably be crossing paths day after day.

Well, this was just perfect. On top of Xu Shu, she now had another headache-inducing addition.

Xiao Nanhui gave a bitter smile. Was this Emperor truly not doing this on purpose?

Right at this moment, Xiao Zhun stepped into the courtyard, still wearing his court robes — he had evidently come straight back from the palace.

“Foster Father, the Emperor promoted me…”

Yet Xiao Zhun’s face held not a trace of joy, only a mild nod: “I know. I just ran into that palace attendant on my way here.”

Xiao Nanhui seemed to remember something and asked with slight unease: “That palace attendant told me to go to the palace and give thanks. Should I prepare anything? When should I go? Do I need to give advance notice or anything…”

“Don’t worry — I’ll have Chencai get everything in order.”

Just then, Chencai came in with quick steps, looking at Xiao Nanhui with a helpless expression.

“Miss, Master Yao has been waiting at the back gate for the better part of two hours. He just sent word — meet at the Fengzi Teahouse on West Street. If you don’t go, he says don’t bother seeing him ever again.”

Xiao Nanhui’s complexion instantly paled, as fragments of the previous night’s memory began surfacing. Yaoyi was an extremely petty person, and that floor plan of the Zou Family residence looked to be something of great value. If she didn’t go and make amends, there would certainly be consequences.

“Foster Father, I’ll be back shortly.”

Xiao Nanhui moved hastily toward the door. Dujuan hurried to keep up, all the while reaching out to tidy the other woman’s disheveled hair: “If you go out looking like that, don’t say you’re from this household. At least wash your face first…”

The sound of their voices gradually faded into the distance. Xiao Zhun remained standing where he was.

Chencai’s hands rested lightly inside his sleeves. After a long moment, he spoke softly: “My lord, a promotion and some good fortune — it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Xiao Zhun said nothing.

He had indeed petitioned the Emperor to transfer Xiao Nanhui into the Guangyao Camp, but he had absolutely not requested any merit or rank on her behalf.

He had understood long ago that the higher one climbs, the more exposed to danger one becomes.

The Emperor’s mind had always been as deep and unfathomable as a still pool. He could only hope that, as Chencai said, it was all just his own baseless conjecture.

By the time Xiao Nanhui arrived at the teahouse, a quick-witted young attendant was already waiting at the door to guide her upstairs to a private room — clearly, her arrival had been anticipated all along.

Yaoyi’s ability to read people’s hearts was truly formidable; there must be a little fox living at the tip of his mind.

For no particular reason, a cool-faced countenance flashed before her eyes. She wondered, if those two ever faced each other, which of them would have the upper hand?

“Madam, we’ve arrived.”

Xiao Nanhui came back to herself. It must be because the Huozhou journey had brought nothing but bad luck, that she kept thinking back on such things.

“Thank you.”

She slid open the latticed screen door and pushed past three layers of curtains before a private room revealed itself. The furnishings were simple, the light gentle, the quiet so deep it felt like the interior of a bamboo grove rather than the middle of a bustling street. It was the kind of place people who came to discuss serious matters favored most.

Yaoyi was sharing drinks with a middle-aged man dressed as a Confucian scholar, his hair and beard streaked with white. Seeing Xiao Nanhui enter, he offered his signature welcoming smile.

“General Xiao has arrived.”

Xiao Nanhui started slightly, then realized he was calling her.

She had only just received the decree that morning, and already she was “General Xiao.” Yaoyi’s news really did travel fast.

“This is Master Wu Xing. Many of the calligraphy and paintings in the tower have come through the master’s connections, as you know.”

Your shady dealings — I don’t know a thing about them.

“Greetings, Master.” Xiao Nanhui smiled and offered a bow, then seated herself beside Yaoyi, her fingers secretly twisting his arm.

Yaoyi pulled his arm free and went through the motions of brewing tea, his hands busy but his mouth no less so.

“The master was just telling me — apparently that last batch of calligraphy and paintings nearly never made it through. Mountain bandits almost robbed them en route.”

“Exactly, exactly,” Wu Xing nodded hastily, still looking shaken.

Mountain bandits? Xiao Nanhui glanced at Yaoyi with a frown. This close to the capital — where would mountain bandits come from? Others might not know the answer, but a sharp mind like Yaoyi’s surely did.

Yaoyi behaved as though he hadn’t noticed at all, and unhurriedly filled three cups of hot tea: “Ah, fortunately the General is no stranger to us. The post of Guangyao Camp is practically a patrol around the capital, isn’t it? Keeping an eye out for Master Wu’s carts from here on shouldn’t be any trouble. Don’t you agree, General Xiao?”

Xiao Nanhui nearly choked to death on a mouthful of hot tea.

So that was his game.

Wu Xing was evidently a bookish sort who never looked too closely at details. His people had probably pulled some tricks and cheated him — Yaoyi couldn’t spell it out directly, so instead he used her, a newly appointed general, to smooth things over as a favor to everyone. A neat solution all around.

Wu Xing, unaware of all these calculations, looked across with a somewhat eager and hopeful expression: “General Xiao says nothing — does that mean there are difficulties?”

Xiao Nanhui swallowed the mouthful of tea and could only shake her head: “Nothing difficult at all, Master. Please don’t worry.”

Wu Xing beamed with delight and showered her with thanks: “Then I am most grateful to the General. The General cannot know how much I grieved over the items lost last time — so many of them were rare editions, gathered over years from every corner of the land…”

Once a scholar starts talking about books, it truly flows like a river that has burst its banks, ten words out of which nine are superfluous. Xiao Nanhui could barely get a word in, and simply drank her tea and picked up seven parts out of ten of what was being said.

This Wu Xing was the head librarian of the current Imperial Clan Affairs Commissioner Cui Junhe’s private archive. Cui Junhe had a fondness for ancient books and manuscripts, but was too occupied with official affairs to manage them personally. With so many items in the archive to be catalogued and repaired, the day-to-day work of inventory and upkeep had been entrusted to Wu Xing. Wu Xing himself was passionate about calligraphy and painting — particularly famous ancient works — yet as a mere library steward with limited funds, he had no means to satisfy this passion.

Yaoyi had spotted this weakness and brought Wu Xing on as one of his “suppliers.” Wangchen Tower frequently hosted tea gatherings for those who liked to put on airs, and there was always a need for something genuine to lend the occasion substance. Items from the antique and calligraphy shops on West Street were beneath their guests’ tastes, and the prices were extortionate besides — a source like Wu Xing was far more economical. Wu Xing had at first been too proud to associate with the proprietor of a place like a pleasure tower and had refused outright; Yaoyi employed a few light maneuvers to let him taste the benefits, then gave him more than enough face, and over time a mutually beneficial arrangement had taken shape. This “passing along a favor” was simply a way of consolidating that relationship.

After several rounds of tea, Wu Xing finally seemed to tire of talking, and Yaoyi smoothly took over the conversation.

“Look at us — so much said, and we nearly forgot the real business.”

Here it came. The thing she had been dreading was arriving regardless.

Yaoyi produced the bamboo tube and placed it on the table. Xiao Nanhui eyed it and swallowed.

Better to face the blade head-on. She felt it was best to try explaining herself.

She gave an awkward smile: “Did Yaoyi happen to mention beforehand that there was a… development?”

Wu Xing shook his head blankly, then seemed to catch on, and his expression changed: “What development?”

Xiao Nanhui glared at Yaoyi and gritted her teeth. The latter sat entirely at ease, waiting to enjoy the show.

Composing her expression, Xiao Nanhui chose her words carefully: “Well — an unforeseen incident. As you know, the weather has been rather poor lately. Really, the blame falls on the bamboo tube’s seal not being tight enough…”

Wu Xing was no longer listening. With a trembling hand, he brought his teacup to his lips: “W-water damage?”

Xiao Nanhui’s head was nearly at table level: “Got soaked.”

Wu Xing’s cup crashed to the floor, and his whole body slumped against the cushion.

Xiao Nanhui tried to salvage the situation, spreading her palm open for reference: “Actually it wasn’t a very large area — just about the size of a palm…”

Wu Xing still wore a look of heartbroken anguish: “A sin, a terrible sin…”

Xiao Nanhui bent over and gave Wu Xing a proper bow, sincere and genuine: “Xiao Nanhui knows full well the depth of her wrongdoing. Whatever the master requires, please say so directly — Xiao Nanhui is willing to bear full responsibility and make good the loss.”

Wu Xing looked up at her with weary eyes: “There is only one such floor plan in all the world. How would you make it good?”

Xiao Nanhui was struck speechless, and could only remain silent.

Yaoyi, who had said nothing all this while, finally shifted slightly in his seat. He picked up Wu Xing’s fallen cup, wiped it clean with a plain cloth.

“General Xiao certainly has a sense of humor — that little speech of hers nearly had even me convinced.”

Xiao Nanhui stared at him, baffled. Wu Xing, too, struggled to sit up: “What do you mean by that, Manager Yao?”

“The General was just having a little joke with the master. If you don’t believe me, master, open this bamboo tube and verify the item yourself.”

Wu Xing, half-believing and half-skeptical, opened the bamboo tube, took out the item inside, and unrolled it — it was indeed the floor plan of the Zou Family’s old residence, completely intact, without a trace of water damage.

Now it was Xiao Nanhui’s turn to stare wide-eyed. Yaoyi pretended not to notice, and said cheerfully to Wu Xing: “The one General Xiao borrowed earlier was a replica I had made by someone here in the tower based on the original. For something as precious as the master’s item, how could I be careless about it?”

So that was how it was. Evidently, Yaoyi had anticipated that her journey to Huozhou would be fraught with hardship and had made a contingency plan well ahead of time.

Just as she had said long ago — Yaoyi may have looked rather plain and had a sharp tongue, but when it came to getting things done, he was reliable.

Wu Xing, seeing his beloved treasure returned unharmed, was visibly overjoyed beyond words.

Yaoyi then clapped his hands once.

The partition slid open, and a small figure — child-like in appearance — respectfully placed a red-lacquered cylinder sealed with wax on the table, then quietly withdrew.

Yaoyi presented the lacquered cylinder to Wu Xing: “The bamboo tube doesn’t protect against moisture. This is a lacquered nanmu painting case. The next time the master needs to carry such a precious item, use this instead.”

Wu Xing, though bookish, could certainly recognize a fine object. He accepted it with repeated thanks, then carefully took the floor plan — which had “survived such trials” — and began to put it away.

Not only had the original been returned unharmed, but a gift had been added on top of it. Wu Xing was now thoroughly in Yaoyi’s palm.

Xiao Nanhui instinctively stepped forward to help, and out of the corner of her eye she caught the lower-left corner of that thin sheet of paper. Her gaze suddenly stopped.