Shen Qingwu had never much cared for notions of restraint or gender when it came to settling scores.

If she felt she’d been cheated, she’d get justice for herself—and her method of getting justice was to fight. That was how she’d grown up, and that was how she’d learned not to be looked down on in the army camp. It hardly mattered to her that the girl from the Miao borderlands was lovely as a flower; that beauty wouldn’t hold up against her fists.

It was only after Zhang Xingjian judged the girl sufficiently frightened that he stepped in. Not that Shen Qingwu listened to him anyway—his intervening hardly mattered.

He had no choice but to murmur softly in her ear, “Let me get you a bit of compensation, how about that?”

And so the girl, crouched on the ground clutching her head with tears brimming in her eyes, watched as the elegant, refined young master wrapped his arms around his fierce lady from behind and murmured a few words in her ear—after which the ferocious Shen Qingwu lowered her fists, her expression turning calm.

The girl wanted to cry even more: she’d said all along these two clearly cared for each other and had no need for a Heartbound Gu at all!

Next, it was Zhang Xingjian’s turn to deal with the girl.

Shen Qingwu listened from the side.

Sure enough, he talked circles around the trembling girl, and within a few sentences had her lowering the hands still clutching her head. He alternated comfort and threat, telling her this counted as fraud—

“Though you never said it outright, every word you spoke implied it, and you weren’t speaking to just one or two people that day. A tael of gold isn’t a small sum. If we took this to the authorities, do you think you’d win?

“But since we’ve already taken your gu, the deal is done—we can’t give the gu back to you, just as you’ve surely already spent a good deal of that gold and can’t return it whole either. Why don’t we each give a little ground? Perhaps you return half to us?”

The girl suddenly stopped finding this fair-faced scholar so handsome.

She said, “Just kill me then—I won’t give it back!”

The two of them haggled back and forth.

Bit by bit, Zhang Xingjian talked her into retreating, talked her into wavering, talked her into a daze. He kept threatening her with the authorities, even brought up something about a selection for the palace, until the girl grew deeply afraid she wouldn’t be able to flee in time.

In the end, they settled on her returning thirty percent of the gold. Grudgingly, she told them, “If you want the gu undone, come find my mother in the Miao borderlands. This time it really will cost a full tael—no discount.”

Shen Qingwu thought: these Miao borderland folk really knew how to do business.

Naturally, Zhang Xingjian turned to consult her. “Second Young Lady Shen, shall we make a trip to the Miao borderlands and get rid of this useless gu?”

Shen Qingwu turned and walked away.

Zhang Yuelu could give up on that idea—there was no way she was spending another tael of gold, falling for the same scheme twice.

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes curved into a smile.

The girl, still crouched there haggling with him, realized this young master was having far too much fun teasing his wife, and couldn’t help but sigh at how differently fate treated people.

What surprised the girl, though, was that before they left, Zhang Xingjian still spoke to her seriously: “We’ll need to have the gu undone eventually, but we have more pressing matters for now and won’t have time to travel to the Miao borderlands. Make what preparations you can in the meantime—we’re bound to meet again someday.”

The girl was heartbroken that their “Heartbound Gu” had gone so unappreciated that someone actually wanted it undone.

Unable to let it go, she spoke up in defense of the gu’s reputation. “Our Heartbound Gu really is powerful! Mother and child, twinned—the child gu truly cannot be separated from the mother gu.”

She raised her voice, clearly hoping Shen Qingwu, standing outside the temple, would hear. “Just so you know, don’t come back later saying I tricked you again—if the person who took the child gu dies, the mother gu won’t die with them. But if the one with the mother gu dies, the child gu dies for certain.

“That’s exactly why I warned you not to mix them up in the first place! Best of luck to you.”

Standing coldly beneath the pines outside the temple, Shen Qingwu naturally heard the girl’s deliberately raised warning.

She paused, thinking of her connection to Zhang Xingjian, lost in thought.

If she died, Zhang Xingjian would die with her. If Zhang Xingjian died, it had nothing to do with her.

At last she’d found one small thing about this “Heartbound Gu” that didn’t feel like an outright scam—

After leaving the girl, the two of them were both exhausted.

A full day of travel, miles back and forth, and two people already carrying injuries upon injuries—both were near their limit.

Leading their horses, travel-worn, they made camp for the night before a stretch of forest.

Shen Qingwu paid Zhang Xingjian no mind. Tired, she dismounted to rest, to find a place to sleep, to build a fire and cook a bird for dinner.

She glanced back to see Zhang Xingjian dismounting after her, looking unhurried and curious as he followed her through the fallen leaves. He had no experience with any of this, but he was in high spirits, clearly eager to cooperate.

He copied the way she tied up the horses, and when he saw her gathering firewood, he rolled up his sleeves and did the same.

He was clumsy at it, scratching the back of his hand more than once.

She watched him fumble about, gathering only dry wood and ignoring the damp wood at his feet entirely. At first she let it go, but eventually, finding it wasteful, she pushed him aside and gathered both kinds herself, dividing them evenly into her arms.

Gray dust swirled in the night air, drifting into Zhang Xingjian’s eyes. He blinked, watching her, uncomprehending.

He saw her use the dry wood to build the fire, stacking the damp wood off to the side. She worked briskly, without explaining, but Zhang Xingjian soon understood. “You’re drying out the wet wood to use tomorrow? That’s clever—Wutong really is smart.”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

The pampered young master’s practical skills were middling at best, but his tongue, as always, was more than capable.

She hadn’t gone out of her way to mistreat him—he’d helped gather firewood, after all, so sharing some of the evening meal with him was only fair.

She simply didn’t speak the entire time.

Zhang Xingjian, for his part, seemed perfectly content, undisturbed by the silence.

He was even pleased that she hadn’t forgotten his portion, and rewarded her with sweet words. “Wutong is really so good to me.”

Roasting meat on a stick, Shen Qingwu thought: is he unwell in the head?

She herself would never have described her treatment of him as “good.”

She knew perfectly well she showed him no consideration whatsoever.

Fortunately, he didn’t keep needling her with such talk afterward.

At mealtime, Shen Qingwu was quiet for two reasons—her nature, and her sore throat, which made her reluctant to waste energy speaking. Zhang Xingjian, well-mannered as ever, kept to the old rule of not speaking while eating. After their silent meal, Shen Qingwu sat by the fire, lost in thought, while Zhang Xingjian sat beside her, watching.

He said softly, “Still upset about that tael of gold? Don’t be. You did come out ahead, in the end.”

Shen Qingwu shot him a cold glance.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Wutong used to have to spend so much energy watching for me to run off. Now you can save yourself that trouble—with the Heartbound Gu, I can’t stray far from you, so you needn’t worry that everything I say is secretly plotting an escape. Less energy spent worrying means more energy for other things. Isn’t that good?”

Leaves rustled softly. The winter night sky was clear and still, stars flickering faintly here and there.

Shen Qingwu, chin propped on her hand, glanced around the forest.

Who was Wutong? Some ghost?

Zhang Xingjian was amused by the gesture.

But he intended to keep calling her Wutong regardless—he was the only one who called her that, and he refused to let her equate Zhang Yuelu with just anyone else, refused to let her think Zhang Yuelu could be replaced by someone similar.

Fortunately, stubborn as Shen Qingwu was, she had at least gotten some compensation back from that gold. And besides… what he’d said wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Her expression eased somewhat.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Now then… Shen Qingwu, shall we talk?”

Talk.

Those words always seemed to come up between them.

Every time he wanted to “talk,” it meant he was about to start scheming.

Shen Qingwu watched him coldly.

Zhang Xingjian sighed. “Do you really have no trust in me at all?”

Naturally, she wouldn’t waste breath on something so pointless.

Zhang Xingjian smiled bitterly inside.

He’d braced himself for this, but now that he’d truly let himself fall for her, that lack of trust still stung. Well—he’d brought it on himself. What was there to complain about?

Shen Qingwu studied him.

Having stayed silent a moment ago, she now deigned to rasp out, “Are you upset?”

Seeing him unhappy delighted her.

Zhang Xingjian said nothing for a moment.

He composed himself, smiling faintly. “How could I be? It’s precisely because Wutong distrusts me so thoroughly that you’ve come out of this unscathed, without falling for any of my tricks. I can only admire you for it.

“But sometimes, you might use your head a little—if I lied to you about the matter with Bo Lao San, what would I possibly gain from it?”

Zhang Xingjian said earnestly, “I’ll admit, I never felt about Bo Shuai the way you did—never idolized him, adored him, loved him the way you do. But he’s my elder brother. If his true identity came to light, the entire Zhang Family would suffer for it… Of course I’d stand with him, of course I’d do everything I could to help him.

“You understand that much, don’t you?”

He saw her fall silent again.

He said, “I know you don’t like to talk, and right now you’re annoyed with me, less willing than usual to bother responding. Why don’t I lay out the events and ask you some questions—if I’m right, nod; if I’m wrong, shake your head. We’ll go through it together, shall we?”

Shen Qingwu thought: depends on my mood.

Seeing no objection from her, Zhang Xingjian went ahead and recounted what had happened on the fifth day of the twelfth month.

He first admitted to her that he truly hadn’t stayed obediently in the cellar, hadn’t intended to wait for her return—he really had meant to leave at the time. Her misunderstanding him was, in part, due to his own carelessness.

Then he summarized what he’d learned from Governor Chen—

“You believe I wanted to kill you, wanted to deceive you, because that rider blocked your way and kept you from going up the mountain, correct? You think I did feel something for you, at least enough that I couldn’t bear to see you die up there—but that for the sake of my plan, once you went up the mountain, I had to kill you to cover up the truth.

“That’s what you believed, isn’t it?”

Shen Qingwu hesitated.

For Bo Rong’s sake, she chose to engage with him.

She nodded.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Now do you believe that rider wasn’t my man? That I had no idea what happened on that mountain, that I never tried to stop you? Do you believe that?”

Shen Qingwu hesitated again, then nodded, unwillingly.

Zhang Xingjian let out a breath, a faint bitterness rising in his heart: so it was for Bo Rong’s sake that she was willing to reason things through calmly, willing to seek out the truth.

He continued, “Afterward I had Chang Lin look into it. The fire on the mountain killed off the bandits up there—they didn’t have your skill. As for the bandits who originally ambushed me at the foot of the mountain, they’re locked up now and have no idea what happened up top.

“In other words, you’re the only one left who knows what actually happened on that mountain. If you want the truth, you’ll have to start with yourself. Do you agree?”

Shen Qingwu gave no response.

She simply looked at him, signaling him to continue.

He said, “Let me guess why you’re so angry… is it because Bo Lao San got away?”

She shook her head.

“Bo Lao San told you something—that I was in league with him, that you’d been deceived by me, that Kong Ye was actually the victim?”

She shook her head again.

He fell silent, his lashes trembling slightly. “Bo Lao San… is he dead?”

Shen Qingwu nodded, glum.

Even now, thinking of it filled her with frustration.

She had let Bo Lao San die right under her nose, and had been badly injured in the explosion on the mountain besides. When she came down and went to the cellar, she’d clung to a sliver of hope—hoping Zhang Xingjian would still be there, that she’d simply guessed wrong.

But he wasn’t there.

At the time, she truly believed he’d orchestrated everything. She’d nearly died of fury, seething with injustice… all because of him.

Forcing himself to ignore the sudden fierce glare she leveled at him, Zhang Xingjian asked, “Did you kill Bo Lao San?”

She shook her head angrily.

“Did someone you know kill him?”

She shook her head again.

“Then did you kill the culprit?”

At that, she grew angrier still—so angry she began coughing, her face flushing red, startling Zhang Xingjian.

Seeing her so worked up, he hurried over to pat her back, trying to calm her. He took the chance to sit close beside her, comforting her with a smile. “Don’t be angry, don’t be angry—they’re nothing but petty scoundrels. Someone as formidable as you will surely catch them and make them pay for deceiving you.”

He reached out and brushed away a strand of hair caught at the corner of her lips.

She didn’t even notice what he was doing, rasping, “Keep going.”

Zhang Xingjian, momentarily distracted, nearly forgot what he’d meant to say next.

His thoughts ran deep, and he’d already worked much of this out on his own. Normally he processed such things alone—now he found himself having to lay it all bare for her. But why bother explaining any of it? Wouldn’t it be simpler to just keep it to himself? Yet what he wanted more was to win the general’s heart…

Lost in this moment of distraction, he was startled when she suddenly seized his hand and gripped it hard.

He snapped back to himself.

She looked at him, puzzled.

He gave a guilty little cough and pulled out Bo Lao San’s letters from inside his robe. Looking them over again, he told her, “I thought something was off about these letters back then, and I still haven’t quite figured it out. I simply didn’t have time before—now I’ll have to start from scratch.

“Look at this—the handwriting’s a bit messy, full of errors, the phrasing awkward in places, which does match the level you’d expect from someone as unrefined as Bo Lao San. And yet, he wouldn’t have known how to write a word like ‘imprisonment,’ and yet he used the term for ‘friction’ correctly… Wutong, can you tell the difference between the words for ‘friction’ and ‘filth’?”

She nodded eagerly, rather pleased with herself.

Bo Rong had taught her that, once spending an entire evening drilling her on the two similar-looking words.

She was no illiterate, after all!

Zhang Xingjian laughed, exaggerating his praise. “Our Wutong really is impressive.”

She lifted her chin, eyes curving with pleasure, no longer minding at all that he kept calling her “Wutong.”

She wanted to tell him more: “Bo Rong—”

Zhang Xingjian had absolutely no wish to hear about Bo Rong.

The moment that hoarse voice of hers opened, it inevitably circled back to him. Taking advantage of her strained throat, he quickly changed the subject. “So you see, these letters are strange in this particular way. But it’s not quite damning on its own—if Bo Lao San happened to have read a few books and picked up a handful of words, while making mistakes elsewhere due to his limited education, that’s not entirely implausible either.

“I was suspicious, but I couldn’t prove anything was wrong. So I looked at the letters from another angle instead—the writing itself flows quite smoothly. Every stroke firm and assured…”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

She thought of Bo Lao San’s appearance from their fight that day.

She grabbed Zhang Xingjian by the shoulders and turned him to face her.

Their eyes met, his heart quickening slightly as she leaned in close.

His face flushed hot, his mind racing with thoughts he shouldn’t be having.

Alone in the wilderness, just the two of them—was this, was this not entirely proper…

Having turned him by the shoulder, she shifted her grip to his right arm instead, shaking it hard.

He startled, letting her wave his arm about wildly, nearly shaking him apart.

She really was too lazy to talk—silent unless Bo Rong came up, and now insisting on gesturing at him instead of speaking…

Thoroughly confused, he watched her take his hand and trace something onto his palm. When he still didn’t understand, she huffed and struck his right arm hard.

He winced.

He immediately caught her hand to stop her from hitting him again—he couldn’t take another blow like that. Chin lifted, she listened as he said, smiling,

“You’re trying to tell me Bo Lao San’s right arm was injured, so he must have written with his left hand. His handwriting would naturally look different from anyone else’s.”

A quick study, this one.

She nodded, satisfied.

She tried to pull her hand back, but he caught it instead, holding it gently. “Then these letters weren’t written by Bo Lao San. I can tell you for certain—whoever wrote these letters had a perfectly good right hand.

“Whoever wrote them, whoever forged Bo Lao San’s hand and conspired with Kong Ye for some unknown purpose… didn’t know Bo Lao San’s right hand was injured. Which means this person didn’t actually know Bo Lao San very well.”

A chill ran down Shen Qingwu’s spine.

She wasn’t skilled at handling this kind of scheming.

Zhang Xingjian seized the moment to tell her, “Wutong, you need me.”

She couldn’t deny it.

Besides, something suddenly came back to her…

Before she could voice what she’d remembered, he understood already. “You saw the man who killed Bo Lao San, didn’t you? Things were too chaotic that day and he got away, but you saw his face.”

She nodded.

“Can you sketch his likeness? I’ll have Chang Lin’s men start searching.”

A flicker crossed her eyes.

She nodded, hesitant.

Zhang Xingjian smiled.

He suspected she probably couldn’t draw it.

But he didn’t dare say so, afraid an embarrassed, furious Shen Qingwu might strike him.

He simply said, smiling, “Then I’ll await the general’s portrait.”

She nodded, guilty and evasive—

He’d talked with her the entire evening. Though it had mostly been him doing the talking, the result wasn’t bad.

But just as he finished and was ready to call it a night, Shen Qingwu moved.

“Done talking?”

Her pupils were dark, her expression distant and faintly ominous.

She repeated, “You wanted to ‘talk’—is this what you meant by talking?”

Surprised she was willing to speak at all, he paused a moment before nodding.

She said coldly, “Now it’s my turn.”

Before he could react, she seized his shoulders and pushed him back against a tree stump.

The dying firelight lit both their faces.

The flames crackled—

She said, “You woke up and didn’t run. You dragged me along to uncover the truth, to lower my guard, made me see that girl again so I’d hear the truth about the Heartbound Gu from her own mouth.

“Zhang Yuelu never does anything without purpose. What do you want? Just say it plainly.”

He said, smiling, “I want to improve things between us. Since I can’t be far from you anyway, wouldn’t it be better if our relationship were better, if Wutong treated me a little more kindly… I’d rather not suffer needlessly.”

He phrased it in a way she could accept, and sure enough, she did.

She said, “But I think you have another purpose besides that.”

“What purpose do you think I have?”

“You want to humiliate me.”

“…?”

He reflected on everything he’d said and done, staring at her face now close to his, and asked, bewildered, “What makes you say that?”

Her gaze turned distant. “A trip to the governor’s residence, letting the governor speak through evidence. A trip to that girl, letting her speak through evidence too. You’ve cleared yourself completely, and now you want me to admit I was wrong, that I wronged you, that I’m the fool, the villain, the madwoman.

“I chased you a thousand miles over a misunderstanding, made a spectacle of myself like a lunatic—doesn’t that please you? Because I was foolish?”

He said softly, “I never thought that. I’ve always known you think differently from others.”

“Don’t you think Shen Qingwu is an unworthy scoundrel?”

“I don’t.”

She said sharply, “Then what do you actually want? Tell me!”

Her hand pressed against his throat, feeling his pulse beat beneath her fingers. This was probably what she’d wanted to do all day… only now had she gathered enough strength for it.

He lowered his eyes. “If you insist I have a purpose, then yes, I do have one—Shen Qingwu, I want you to apologize to me.”

She froze.

She said coldly, “Dream on.”

He looked up.

Starlight seemed to shift in his eyes. He could feel that her desire to kill him had faded. He blinked at her; she remained unmoved.

“You’ve never once apologized, have you? Am I not worth an apology from you?”

“That’s right. I did misunderstand you, did get some things wrong, did put you through hardship—I accept the punishment for that. But I won’t apologize.”

“Punish you? I wouldn’t dare. Could I even beat you in a fight? Would scolding you make you obedient, little Wutong?”

“Simple.”

To his astonishment, she produced a dagger from somewhere and, without hesitation, moved to plunge it into her own heart, to give him his justice. Terrified by her ruthlessness, he lunged and knocked the dagger from her hand.

The blade grazed the back of his hand and clattered to the ground. He lunged to stop her, and the two of them ended up pressed together, him pulling her into his arms.

She caught the clean, cool scent of him, felt his racing heartbeat.

She registered all this in a daze, watching him lower his eyes, looking at her with a complicated expression.

This—this was exactly the kind of singular devotion he wanted from her. Everything she’d never given anyone else, he wanted for himself.

“You really won’t apologize to me? You’d rather punish yourself than say sorry?”

She showed no expression. Soldiers like her kept their word absolutely. They bled, they sweated, but they didn’t cry, and they didn’t grovel to anyone.

He leaned in, stopping an inch from her lips.

His eyes curved, tempting her. “If you apologize to me…”

He closed his eyes.

She stared at his handsome face, his long, thick lashes. She heard him murmur, “…I’ll let you play.”

Her eyes lit instantly.