Ever since that day she had been compelled to “spar” with Su Pingchuan, Xiao Nanhui had taken three consecutive days of leave and had not dared venture near the city gates.

In truth, even if she had reported for duty as usual, she would not have seen Su Pingchuan. Because the Left General had also taken leave.

The men of the garrison had begun to half-believe a certain rumor: that the Left General and the newly appointed Right General had crossed paths outside the city, come to blows, and fought three hundred rounds to a draw — both sides injured, with no clear victor determined — and had each gone home to recuperate.

None of this, of course, was known to Xiao Nanhui. She was busy making preparations to head south to Jizhou.

The mission the Emperor had entrusted to her, she had told no one save Xiao Zhun and Bolao. To the outside world she said only that she was going out with the troops and might be away for several months.

Dujuan was rather distressed at this — mainly, in all likelihood, on behalf of the several prospective matches Xiao Nanhui would not be meeting. Even so, before Xiao Nanhui’s departure she wrapped up large bundles of food and everyday supplies for her. Xiao Nanhui did not dare tell Dujuan that the mountain-sized stack of parcels — the moment she stepped out of the Mansion — was redirected to Yaoyi by courier.

Apart from Jixiang, Pian Xian, and Bolao, she brought only a modest amount of travel money. Her personal luggage was even lighter than what she had taken to Huozhou — she feared drawing too much attention on the road.

She was accustomed to hardship. Even if someone left her alone in a deep mountain forest for a month, she would find a way to survive. Bolao, however, clearly had no intention of roughing it with her. They had barely reached the middle of the main road of Jiazi when Xiao Nanhui shook her down and produced several gold ingots.

Xiao Nanhui gave Bolao a cold laugh. Bolao defended herself guiltily: “His Majesty surely feared you might need to spend money in the course of carrying out the mission, so he gave you these as a reward. You forgot to take them with you, and I was looking out for you.”

“You’re worrying unnecessarily,” Xiao Nanhui said. She kneaded the gold ingots in her palm, rolling them together into a ball, and pressed them back into Bolao’s hands. “This operation calls for us to infiltrate from the grassroots level — we are practicing frugality. You haven’t gone far yet, so hurry and take these inconvenient things back.”

Bolao walked back in a huff. Xiao Nanhui inwardly heaved a sigh.

Bolao had never been to the west of the Ling Ridge. Xiao Nanhui had grown up there and knew the place well. In that forsaken land there was nowhere to spend gold — the kind of people who could make use of gold numbered only a few, and she absolutely should not be counted among them.

She dismounted and crouched by the roadside waiting for Bolao. Glancing up, she suddenly felt a familiar look to the tree before her. She looked around and realized she was right outside the back gate of the Chancellor’s Mansion.

This tree, of course, looked familiar — she had spent an entire night perched in it.

As the saying goes: out of sight, out of mind when it comes to the temple.

She had nearly forgotten that she had been made a fool of before — robbed of credit for nothing, and with no lead in the investigation into Xiao Zhun’s affairs that she had intended to pursue. Several times she had thought of going to settle the score, but when it came to it she had always chickened out in the end.

With the Chancellor as the Buddha to contend with, even if she wanted to slay demons she would have to bow and make way three times.

Not settling the score was one thing — but surely she could ask around? That person had repeatedly pulled deceptions, and what if the story about being a guest of the Chancellor’s Mansion was also false? Yet the medallion Ding Weixiang had produced out in the suburbs that day had not looked fabricated. Then again — what if it had been stolen from someone else?

Xiao Nanhui was turning it over and over by herself when the back gate of the Chancellor’s Mansion suddenly showed signs of movement.

A scholarly-looking man was coming out of the side door, accompanied by a young attendant — evidently also a household guest.

Her mind had not yet caught up, but her body had already leapt forward and blocked him against the wall.

The man was startled. Perhaps from a lifetime of reading, he had never encountered someone this agile and vigorous, practically vaulting through the air. He took several steps back, voice stammering: “W-what business does this— this hero have? Say it here, no need to grab and pull. I am a student of Chancellor Bai — do not act rashly.”

Xiao Nanhui thought: I know you’re from the Chancellor’s Mansion. You’re exactly who I was looking for.

Only this scholar was far too frail. To take the same standard of a person with no martial skill — someone’s nerve was considerably greater than his.

Afraid the man might shout and alert the Mansion, she arranged her expression into something passably amicable: “Good sir, I only wished to ask you something. I have no other intention.”

The scholar looked her over. Xiao Nanhui was dressed very plainly today, having prepared to leave the city — not quite the look of a vagrant or bandit, but certainly not someone from a prestigious household either. It was understandable that he found her manners somewhat rough.

His heart held a measure of impatience, but he did not dare be forceful. His expression was rather uncomfortable: “I am on my way to the academy in the northern part of the city and cannot afford to be delayed.”

Xiao Nanhui nodded: “I will not hold you up. I only wished to ask — does this Chancellor’s Mansion have a household guest with the surname Zhong Li?” Then, worried he might suspect her motives, she added: “He owes me silver and will not see me — that is why I have come to inquire.”

The scholar paused, then narrowed his eyes, appearing to give it deliberate consideration: “A surname as unusual as that — if I had heard or seen it, I would not have forgotten.”

“Then — have you seen such a person, or not?”

The scholar shook his head.

Xiao Nanhui was not ready to give up: “Then have you seen a sword-bearing guard by the surname Ding — Ding Weixiang, a Lieutenant of the Geese-Wing Company?”

This time the scholar seemed to finally have some recollection: “You must mean Lieutenant Ding Weixiang — he is close with the Third Young Master of the Chancellor’s household and comes and goes here often.”

Xiao Nanhui’s brow creased.

That was strange. Ding Weixiang was rarely a step apart from his master. How could only Ding Weixiang have been seen and not the other? Unless — this man was not being entirely forthcoming either.

Xiao Nanhui’s wavering gaze fell on the scholar. He had already retreated briskly and was pulling his young attendant toward the outer road: “I truly do have urgent business — kindly let me through.”

In broad daylight, Xiao Nanhui could hardly genuinely bar someone from passing, so she stepped aside.

“Sorry for the trouble.”

The scholar hurried away. Bolao arrived on his heels, and seeing Xiao Nanhui standing there staring blankly down the road, she gave her a retaliatory kick in settling of personal scores.

“What are you gawking at? Come on, hurry up.”

Xiao Nanhui brushed the shoe print off herself, took hold of Bolao without expression, gave her three vigorous shakes to confirm nothing strange was hidden on her this time, then mounted without a word.

Bolao quickly followed on horseback. The sound of hoofbeats faded away, and the back lane of the Chancellor’s Mansion fell silent once more.

At the bend at the far end of the lane, the scholar who had hurried off just moments ago was now standing before an unremarkable carriage. He carefully confirmed Xiao Nanhui had left, then climbed inside.

Apart from the driver, there was only one person seated in the carriage — white-haired with an entirely white beard, the old Chancellor Bai Zhaoyu.

He showed no surprise at seeing the scholar board.

“She’s gone?”

“Yes, Teacher — she has gone.”

“What did she ask?”

“She asked your student whether this Mansion had a household guest with the surname Zhong Li.”

“And how did you answer?”

“I answered as Teacher instructed.”

The old Chancellor gave an unsurprised “mm” and stroked his beard, apparently quite satisfied with his own foresight.

“Teacher—” The scholar’s expression held a measure of hesitation.

“What else is there?”

“Last night Lieutenant Ding came by.”

“Again?!” The composure Bai Zhaoyu had maintained for so long shattered on the floor.

The scholar must have been seeing the old Chancellor like this for the first time. He stood somewhat dumbfounded and only nodded.

“What did he come for? To borrow the Third Young Master’s medallion again?”

“No.” The scholar paused, then spoke truthfully: “The Third Young Master had hidden the medallion away. This time he borrowed the Second Young Master’s medallion.”

Bai Zhaoyu squeezed his eyes tightly shut: “Anything else?”

“He also borrowed one of the Mansion’s carriages.”

A stretch of despairing silence fell in the carriage. The scholar stood at something of a loss.

In his impression, the Chancellor, despite his age, was no rigid man — on the contrary, he was quite astute and magnanimous, not the sort to be petty. Why would he be stirred to such agitation over a carriage?

And yet it seemed that whenever Lieutenant Ding came, the Chancellor was somehow a different person. The last time was about half a month ago — Lieutenant Ding came to return the Third Young Master’s waist token, and the Chancellor said nothing at the time, but once the man left he turned and vented his temper on the Third Young Master.

The Third Young Master was the most elegant and proper of men, yet that time he could not hold his tongue and answered back. Father and son parted on bad terms.

Come to think of it, the Third Young Master was nearly thirty and had yet to take a wife, with only one or two chamber concubines — his principal wife’s position had remained vacant all this time. And the last quarrel with the Chancellor had also been over the matter of marriage.

Wait — the Third Young Master advanced in age yet unwed, and the Chancellor grew anxious every time Lieutenant Ding came. Could it be…?

In the scholar’s mind, a sprawling and fanciful scenario began to unfold: might the Chancellor’s agitation be because Lieutenant Ding had his eyes on the Third Young Master?

He startled himself with the thought, then found the more he turned it over the more it seemed to make sense. Yesterday the Third Young Master had hidden the medallion away — that was his roundabout way of telling Lieutenant Ding that he was constrained and unable to reciprocate these feelings. What a sorrowful tale of love thwarted!

And that forceful rough-and-tumble person just now was very likely someone sent by Lieutenant Ding himself — talking nonsense and feeling out the situation. Which would also explain even the Chancellor’s seemingly absurd instructions just now, all of it a deliberate misdirection!

Ah, what a pity his poor Teacher, at such an advanced age, still had to fret and suffer over such matters. Truly a cause for sighs.

Of course, having seen through everything with such acuity, he must not take advantage of the situation — seeing through a thing and not saying so was the higher path.

Bai Zhaoyu finally opened his eyes, entirely unaware that the scholar beside him was floating away on some cloud of fancy. He told the driver:

“Zhang Bo — out of the city.”

The driver Zhang Bo acknowledged the instruction, and the carriage rolled toward the city gate.

The scholar studied the Chancellor’s expression carefully and ventured: “Teacher, where are we going? Are we not going to the academy?”

“To Yongye Temple.”

“What business do we have at Yongye Temple?”

“To burn incense and pray.” The old Chancellor drew a long breath to settle the agitation in his chest — he appeared to have calmed himself, yet the trembling at the tip of his beard still betrayed the tumult still rolling within him.

The scholar hastened to add: “Yes — when we arrive, your student will also offer three sticks of incense and pray for Teacher’s household to be safe and at peace.”

Bai Zhaoyu gave him an odd look: “What has it to do with my household?”

“Then what is Teacher praying for?”

The old Chancellor let out a sigh, and the furrow between his brows was the real face of worry: “I am praying for the Bodhisattva to preserve Tiancheng’s remaining span of life. And while I am there, I will ask Master Yikong for several measures of calming incense — otherwise, the next month or two, I shall not sleep a peaceful night.”