The western side of the military encampment was where the royal tent was situated, yet the Emperor had not returned to the royal tent — instead, he had gone to the small tent.

Xiao Nanhui had no idea exactly where the small tent was located. But she could use the process of elimination to narrow it down.

The royal tent was where the generals gathered daily to deliberate on military matters, with the Emperor’s sleeping quarters connected to it from behind. The small tent was used for short rest, and in theory should not be situated too far away.

She observed from a distance, and sure enough spotted several familiar faces from the Black Feather Camp — men who routinely hovered around the Emperor.

Yet these were military tents on all sides. Even if it were some general’s quarters, she could not simply walk in whenever she pleased.

How could she conduct herself with the utmost propriety, while quietly gathering information about the Emperor’s whereabouts?

Xiao Nanhui watched from afar for a long while, unable to glean anything useful — only managing to make herself more anxious in the process.

Thinking it over, she adjusted her expression slightly, steeled herself, and strode toward the largest tent.

She had barely taken a few steps closer when the guard at the entrance sharply detected her intentions.

The Black Feather Camp guard did not wait for her to reach the tent entrance before speaking out in a rather cold and firm tone to stop her.

“Who goes there, trespassing in this place?”

Xiao Nanhui glanced down at her own person. She had not donned her armor today; her training clothes revealed nothing of her rank, making her look like an ordinary soldier.

She did not advance further, and offered a small bow where she stood.

“This one is Xiao Nanhui, Right General of the Guangyao Camp. I wonder if His Majesty—” as she spoke, she craned her head sideways, attempting to peek through the felt curtain that had been lifted just a fraction to see what was inside.

The next second, the guard shifted half a step to the side without any change of expression, blocking her prying gaze.

He returned a salute to her according to military rank, though the pair of eyes exposed beneath his helmet remained cold and stern.

“Ah, so it is the Right General. What matter brings you here?”

Xiao Nanhui swallowed.

“Just now, during drills with His Majesty, there were one or two key points I neglected to explain.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she felt this excuse was absolutely terrible.

The guard remained expressionless, staring at her steadily.

“Ah.” She paused, then with considerable stiffness produced a small bottle from her waistband. “And there is also this vial of medicine for promoting blood circulation and dissolving bruises — I intended to bring it to His Majesty.”

As she said this, her fingers were pinched around the belly of that bottle so tightly they were beginning to cramp.

This was the mutton tallow she had pilfered from Mo Chunhua first thing that morning. The bottom of the bottle was still smeared with the grease from last night’s leftover lamb leg. She had originally intended it to moisturize her face after a day of exposure to wind and sun outdoors.

Of course, that was the only thing this stuff was good for.

She swallowed again, suddenly regretting having embellished her story. If the Emperor actually took it without hesitation and poured it onto himself, she might not only face the crime of deceiving the sovereign — she could add to that the charge of attempting to poison the imperial person.

Perhaps only a few seconds had passed, yet she felt as though half a quarter-hour had gone by.

The guard finally spoke, unhurried.

“His Majesty is not in this tent. The General may leave.”

What? Not here?!

Why didn’t you say so sooner! You had her wasting half the day standing here—

“Or the General may leave the item behind, and this one will ensure it is delivered.”

Her mouth twitched. She retreated three steps and waved her hands frantically: “Ah, no need to trouble yourself — I’ll come again later.”

With that, she turned and made a swift exit from the scene.

Xiao Nanhui walked quickly for dozens of paces before slowing down, her heart still racing as she glanced back.

The guard clearly had little interest in her — at this moment he did not even glance in her direction.

At some unknown point, the brisk wind that had blown through the afternoon had suddenly died down. A small patrol squad had just passed through, and now the surroundings were perfectly still.

The footsteps that had been about to carry Xiao Nanhui away paused once more.

She knew her hearing was not as sharp as Xiao Zhun’s or Bolao’s, but it was considerably more acute than that of ordinary people.

She looked around, and quickly confirmed from which of the several nearby tents the sound she had caught was coming.

It was one of the tents she had passed earlier — but before, she had walked past the front of it. Now she was at the back.

At this moment, faint voices were seeping through the gaps along the bottom of that tent. Though the sounds were very low, carefully distinguishing them revealed they were not entirely untraceable.

She moved her feet carefully and stepped a few paces closer toward the source of the sound.

Now she heard it more clearly — the sound was indeed coming from the tent she had just tried to enter.

Strange. Hadn’t they said the Emperor wasn’t in the tent? Could they have been deceiving her? And for what reason would they deceive her?

Xiao Nanhui was a person who was rarely curious, yet at this moment, for reasons she could not explain, she found herself unable to suppress the curiosity welling up inside her. She convinced herself it was only to confirm whether the Emperor was safe, and quietly made her way around to the other side of the small tent.

Beside the small tent was a very low lean-to, separated from the small tent by only one or two layers of felt. Under ordinary circumstances, attendants would temporarily store the Emperor’s change of clothes and consumables such as candles and fire here, for easy access. Suoyan was arid and dry and extremely prone to fires; the military encampment maintained very strict control over open flames, and even small lean-tos like this were sealed tightly on all four sides to prevent wind from blowing in and knocking over candles.

How tightly sealed was this lean-to?

Xiao Nanhui had to practically dig a hole in the ground before she could barely squeeze herself under the lean-to’s covering.

Inside the lean-to it was pitch black. She could hear her own heart pounding loudly in her chest from the series of maneuvers she had just executed.

She had slipped in during the gap between patrol soldier shifts, and would have to gauge that same gap to slip back out in a moment.

The temporary timber frame above her head pressed very low, so she did not dare stand fully upright, cautiously feeling her way toward the direction of the sound.

The intermittent male voice grew clearer and clearer. She was able to distinguish that it was indeed the Emperor’s voice — yet besides him, there was no other voice. No one else was speaking.

Was the Emperor talking to himself?

Xiao Nanhui inched closer still, pressing her face against the oilcloth panel used to divide the space, and hooked it open just a crack with her finger.

Su Wei had his back to her, seated behind a long table inside the small tent.

He was still in that same crow-blue short outfit, the grey smudges on the cuffs and shoulders not yet cleaned away.

So the Emperor had not come here to change clothes after all.

She squeezed forward a little more, bringing her ear closer.

This time she heard clearly enough. And yet she still did not understand what the Emperor was saying. To be precise — she could distinctly hear every syllable and tone from his lips, but she had absolutely no idea what he was saying.

Xiao Nanhui had followed Xiao Zhun far and wide in her earlier years, and though she could not claim to be an expert in dialects, there were some dialects that, even if she could not speak them herself, she had at least encountered at some point.

Yet what the Emperor was murmuring low under his breath was a language she had never heard before — it bore no resemblance to any regional dialect.

The wind outside had gone completely still. The surroundings were so quiet one could hear the measured rhythm of the man’s breathing.

Though it was just past noon and the daylight was at its brightest, the tent’s felt hangings were drawn very tightly, leaving all the corners in deep shadow.

Her gaze fell on the long table.

On the table stood a single candle stand — the only source of light in the tent at this moment.

And beside the candle stand, there was only one object.

It appeared to be a scroll, currently unrolled halfway, the other half still wound up.

A military dispatch? Since when had military dispatches been this long?

Xiao Nanhui narrowed her eyes and stared hard at the black marks on the scroll for a good while, managing to make out one or two characters — but she found those characters entirely bewildering, like the scrawlings of a ghost.

A sovereign of his generation, seated before a table, studying written characters of unknown origin, murmuring in a language of unknown tongue.

This scene was uncanny no matter how she looked at it.

In the past, Yao Yi had told her stories of spirits possessing the living — of how ghosts and spirits would select a suitable vessel and find ways to occupy the body of that mortal, indulge themselves for a time, then discard it at will. Yao Yi had also said that some people were naturally “excellent vessels” for ghosts and spirits, and without the protection of something of pure spiritual power, most would die young.

Xiao Nanhui’s eyes drifted to the sarira bead bracelet on that person’s hand, and her heart missed a beat.

Even in the afternoon — the most yang-rich hour of the day — she felt an inexplicable chill spreading across her back.

The curiosity that had seized her a moment ago made her forget why she had come in the first place. Now a cold, piercing clarity jolted her awake, and she felt that her conduct here was utterly bewitched — a thousand times wrong, ten thousand times wrong, something she should never have done.

Truly, the closer she came to this person, the more she found herself doing things she had never done before.

Xiao Nanhui decided not to wait for the guard rotation anymore. She needed to retreat immediately.

Almost the very instant that thought formed in her mind, the low, murmuring chant abruptly stopped.

She froze at once and did not dare move, maintaining her exact position — only her eyes rolled in his direction.

The Emperor remained seated at the table. He paused for a moment, rolled up and put away the scroll on the table, then slowly rose to his feet.

He made a slight gesture to stretch his body. His fitted clothes, unlike the loose and flowing robes he typically wore, traced the outline of what had seemed a somewhat lean frame on ordinary days — now revealing clearly defined broad shoulders and a slender waist.

Then he began, in an unhurried manner, to remove his waistband and take off the dust-covered outer robe.

Xiao Nanhui’s eyes swiveled quickly back, and her breathing grew hurried.

But eyes that could not see did not mean ears that could not hear — the rustling sounds from that side continued steadily, and after a moment, the sound of footsteps approaching her direction followed.

She startled, and quickly ducked her head — only to have the pin in her hair catch on a piece of oilcloth above, yanking it with a sharp tug.

The next second, she felt a sting at her scalp, and half her hair tumbled loose in an instant.

She hurriedly raised her right hand to reach for her head, but could not find the jade hairpin no matter how she groped. She lowered her head and felt around on the floor of the lean-to, still finding nothing.

In that moment, Xiao Nanhui finally understood what it meant for misfortunes to come in pairs. Her heart, which had been pounding wildly since the very start, now felt as though it could pound no more.

She held her breath, her gaze locked tightly on the nearby silhouette.

The Emperor’s figure stood no more than two steps from the tip of her nose, still holding his outer robe in hand.

Time seemed to freeze at that instant. After an unknown length of time, the figure moved again — setting the robe to one side, then walking a few steps toward a wooden clothes rack standing not far away, seemingly considering which outfit to change into next.

Seizing this opening, Xiao Nanhui hurriedly extended her hand through the oilcloth divider and carefully felt around among the soft folds of silk on the other side.

The oilcloth happened to open onto a low couch, atop which were piled a few garments. Fortunately, those few garments had muffled the sound when her pin had fallen.

She searched anxiously, not paying close enough attention, and felt her fingers suddenly graze something cold and hard, with a texture like jade. She immediately closed her hand around it.

Before she could examine it more carefully, the person not far away took up a garment and began walking back toward her.

Through the gap in the cloth, she only glimpsed beneath a half-open, thin inner robe the partially visible form of a man’s torso — smooth and fine-textured, the rising lines of muscle and sinew visible in clear relief.

Xiao Nanhui’s eyes went wide.

In the next instant, regardless of whether the person had heard any sound, she fled from the lean-to as though fleeing for her life. She even forgot to fill back in the hole she had dug on her way out, and practically ran all the way out of the encampment.

Inside the small tent, the tall and slender man fixed his gaze on the oilcloth panel behind the low couch, unblinking.

After quite a long while, he continued dressing, calm and unhurried.

His manner of putting on clothes was remarkably deft — nothing like a sovereign who had been attended upon since childhood.

He had just fastened his inner robe when a sound of rapid footsteps came from the tent’s entrance.

Su Wei’s long, narrow eyes lowered slightly, and he set the scroll on the table away.

“Insolent.”

His voice was very calm, yet the weight of pressure it carried caused the guard to halt instantly. The guard knelt behind the gauze partition and called out in a request for mercy:

“This subordinate has intruded rashly — I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness! Does Your Majesty fare well in all things?”

Su Wei walked to the low couch, picked up a moon-white outer robe, and something tumbled to the floor as he did: “I am well. What is the matter? Why the panic?”

“This subordinate just heard a sound from the lean-to. Upon inspection, a hole was found dug in the ground on the north side — it appears to be—”

Su Wei unhurriedly cut in: “Not necessarily a person.”

The guard was taken aback: “What?”

“I said,” Su Wei smiled faintly, turning the pin he had picked up over in his fingers, “the one who dug that hole is not necessarily a person. This is wilderness to begin with. Perhaps — it was nothing more than a hare that had lost its head.”

— * — * — *—

At the north side of the main camp, before the tents of the Guangyao Camp’s right division, Xiao Nanhui rubbed her still-trembling calves, and the anxiety in her heart gradually subsided.

She looked up at the sun — it seemed barely past the wei hour.

Reflecting on the events of this one day, she felt it had been extraordinarily long.

Fellow soldiers from the same camp walked toward her from the front. Just as they were about to greet her, they caught sight of her half-disheveled hair and were startled into silence.

Only then did Xiao Nanhui realize — she had been running all this way with her hair flying half-loose.

With a lingering sense of dread, she opened her palm and looked at what she had taken. The moment she saw it clearly, she was struck dumb.

Her hairpin — where was her hairpin?

Her cold-sweat-drenched palm held only a narrow, elongated piece of jade.

A thumb ring pendant, with half of it sliced away.

A thumb ring pendant of this shape was rare in itself; one that had been cut in half to form this particular shape was even rarer.

But not long ago, she had just seen one exactly like it.

Xiao Nanhui was utterly bewildered.

Was this not the jade pendant she had seen in the Prince of Kang’s detached palace that night?

When she had fainted in the Snow Labyrinth Hall and then come back to consciousness, the jade pendant had no longer been on her person.

But — how could it be here?

How could it be in that person’s tent?