Shen Qingwu didn’t look much like a guard—more like a female bandit.

The men’s clothes she wore had originally belonged to Zhang Xingjian, fine fabric, well-tailored—on him, they would have made him look like jade and orchid, elegant beyond compare. But though she was tall for a woman, she was still shorter than him, and the clothes didn’t fit properly. Unable to tailor them herself, she’d pinned them up haphazardly, and after days of hard travel…

Standing before the shop’s proprietress, Shen Qingwu’s appearance fell far short of the handsome young master beside her.

Her flat, expressionless way of speaking only made her seem more intimidating.

She was displeased.

Earlier, at least some people had mistaken them for husband and wife, however hesitantly. But now she couldn’t even manage that—now she looked like his servant!

Did she really seem so unworthy of him?

The proprietress stammered, “This young lady also has quite a striking, handsome look about her…”

She nearly bit her tongue the moment the words left her mouth—calling a woman “handsome,” and a rather forbidding one at that.

Sure enough, Shen Qingwu’s expression grew even flatter, and the proprietress grew more alarmed.

But Shen Qingwu thought: never mind, no point arguing with an ordinary person.

She fixed her gaze on the proprietress. “Have you seen a man come through here recently…”

She was trying to gather information about the culprit’s whereabouts.

The proprietress startled. “No! Absolutely not!”

Shen Qingwu’s expression darkened further.

The proprietress was nearly in tears. “We’re just a small business…”

Zhang Xingjian had to step in at this point, speaking with practiced warmth. “That’s enough, Wutong, stop teasing the poor woman. Proprietress, this is my wife—I’ve come to help her pick out some clothes. Wutong, what sort of clothing did you have in mind?”

Shen Qingwu said airily, “I’m your guard, aren’t I? I’ll take whatever a guard should wear.”

He gave a helpless little laugh and turned to smooth things over with the proprietress gently.

In the end, Shen Qingwu grabbed a random martial robe without even trying it on, and walked straight out of the shop.

He followed after her, guessing at her intent. “So you wanted to go out and gather information about the culprit… Once I’ve finished the portrait, it should be easier to ask around.”

Walking ahead, she refused stiffly. “Have Chang Lin ask around. I’m not asking questions—I only handle the killing. Leave me out of it.”

He’d grown somewhat used to her temper by now, and guessed quietly to himself: “Are you upset because the proprietress mistook our relationship? Or because you couldn’t get any information about the culprit out of her while shopping?”

She spun around abruptly, glaring at him with a fierce, cold look.

An entire day had passed before she was finally willing to face him head-on—even if it was with pure hostility.

He felt a small flicker of pleasure regardless.

He wasn’t afraid of her temper; he was only afraid of being ignored.

He smiled. “Is that so hard to fix? If you want to get more out of people without frightening them, there are a few approaches, a few phrases that help… Would you like to learn?”

“What are you after?”

He joked, “I find you rather pleasing to be around, thought I’d be a bit nicer to you. Is that not allowed?”

“If you’ve gone mad, that’s your business. I haven’t.”

His eyes flickered.

“If I hear you using that kind of misleading talk to manipulate me again, I’ll kill you.”

Once, in her youth, she’d misunderstood his affection for her. More recently, after what the girl from the Miao borderlands had said, she’d begun to wonder again… but after everything they’d been through, she had no wish to let anyone mislead her that way again.

His eyes went deep and still, like a river.

“Again and again—do I really look that easy to fool?”

He fell quiet for a long moment.

Slowly, he began to smile, the expression pale and distant beneath the winter sun, achingly still. “I was only joking. I only meant to smooth things over between us.”

She said, perfectly calm, “Aren’t things fine between us already? As long as you don’t try to escape, I’m not some madwoman who enjoys tormenting you for no reason. Why ask me all of a sudden whether I want to learn how to talk to people?”

He laughed softly. “No particular reason… just passing the time. I thought Wutong might make a good student.

“Besides, if you find it easier to deal with people, doesn’t that make things easier for me too, traveling together as we are?”

She fell into thought.

She hated thinking too hard—it always left her irritated. But she genuinely couldn’t puzzle out what he was after; she only sensed something ambiguous, strange in his manner… clearly some hidden purpose behind it.

She found herself instinctively curious about what that purpose might be. What she didn’t understand, right then, was why she cared at all—she shouldn’t have cared.

That curiosity came laced with resistance.

Was she afraid of something… afraid he was using feelings as a bargaining chip?

In the end, she gave him no response, said nothing more to him at all.

That was simply how she was—warm and eager in bed, cold and dismissive the moment she was out of it.

Winning over a woman like her was, admittedly, a long road ahead for him.

And after a full day traveling with her, he’d come to an unsettling realization: she didn’t want to become emotionally entangled with him at all.

Her constant questioning of his motives was simply her way of hoping their relationship would go no further than this.

She truly meant to give him only a few months—not one day more.

In such a short span of time, how was he supposed to win her over?

It seemed nearly impossible.

—

Working together, Shen Qingwu and Zhang Xingjian finally managed to produce a workable portrait of the culprit. Meanwhile, Chang Lin and the other guards had spent a full day combing through Mianzhou, tracking down where various travelers had lodged on the night of the fifth day of the twelfth month.

Combining their findings, they pieced together a likely escape route the culprit had taken—northward along the Ba-Shu road.

“Where’s he running to?” she asked.

He studied the end of that route, which could lead to the Eastern Capital, or perhaps to Yizhou. Several possibilities churned in his mind, but aloud he only said, “We’ll keep asking around.”

So they left Mianzhou, tracing the Ba-Shu road, portrait in hand, asking questions all along the way.

Meanwhile, the court itself was undergoing dramatic upheaval.

A massive procession of nearly ten thousand young, beautiful women had been selected for the palace draft, braving wind and snow toward the Eastern Capital, to be presented before the young Emperor by year’s end.

Indulgent in his pursuit of women, the young Emperor had left court affairs almost entirely in the hands of Chancellor Kong. But recently, Kong Ye had repeatedly urged him to stop bringing more women into the capital, straining their relationship considerably.

During this same period, Governor Gao of Cangzhou petitioned the court to reopen the case against the Zhang Family, declaring they had been wrongly accused. The petition sent shockwaves through the court—half the officials rallied to the cause, some exposing the Kong family’s crimes, some pleading the Zhang Family’s innocence, some producing evidence of the injustice done to them.

With so much upheaval erupting right before the new year, the young Emperor grew alarmed.

To protect his own leisure, and to teach Kong Ye a lesson, the young Emperor finally did something substantive—he ordered the Zhang Family’s case reopened for review.

The reopening of the case sent ripples out from the Eastern Capital across the surrounding regions. The news hadn’t yet reached Ba-Shu; the people there knew nothing of the case’s reopening, only that the court seemed to have lifted the warrant against Zhang Xingjian.

In Ba-Shu, complaints continued to mount—mostly over the young Emperor’s excessive taxation and the endless drafting of women, both far beyond what the provinces of Great Zhou could reasonably bear.

Some quietly prayed for the Princess Imperial’s return to the capital, hoping she might rein in the lawless young Emperor. The common folk hadn’t thought much of it before, but with the young Emperor barely half a year into his reign, they were already struggling under the strain.

Perhaps, they mused, the peace of previous years really had owed something to that flawed Princess after all.

A pity she was a woman.

A pity that, rather than marry, she kept male companions in her own residence.

What people once loved to gossip about was her promiscuity, her ruthlessness, her control over the young Emperor. Perhaps it was precisely that excessive control of hers that had led to the young Emperor’s current recklessness—who could say.

None of this court news had reached Shen Qingwu’s ears yet.

Wherever their group arrived in a new town, their first order of business remained asking around the streets for any trace of the culprit.

This task usually fell to Chang Lin and the others—Zhang Xingjian, recovering from illness, rarely went out, and Shen Qingwu, too, stayed cooped up in her room, seldom venturing out.

Ten days passed this way.

Zhang Xingjian sat in his room, staring absently at a set of women’s clothing laid out before him—

A short cape, a flowing skirt, fragrant ribbons trailing long, gold and kingfisher-feather ornaments, a tasseled flower crown.

He’d spent ten days having this outfit custom-made for her, entirely unlike the ordinary women’s clothing sold in shops. He’d sketched the design himself, specified the measurements himself, personally overseen the tailor’s work. He could already picture, vividly, how striking she would look wearing it.

But now that the clothes sat before him, he found himself hesitating. Would she even like it?

This was an outfit unmistakably, distinctly feminine, nothing like the practical martial robes she usually strode about in. Even at sixteen, she’d never worn anything like this.

Would she dislike it?

Perhaps this outfit was destined only to exist in his own imagination, picturing her in it…

He sighed, gathering the clothing into his arms, about to pack it away into a chest.

The window burst open, and someone leapt in.

She was in good spirits. “Zhang Yuelu—”

She felt well enough recovered now to go out and enjoy herself, and besides—she could help Chang Lin and the others search for the culprit while she was at it.

Not the most conscientious of people, she found herself an excuse: to search for the culprit, she needed Zhang Xingjian along, to do the talking for her. After all, the moment she opened her mouth, people tended to get scared off.

She refused to admit that the real, truest reason was simply that she wanted to tease him.

She leapt lightly through the window into his room, catching sight immediately of something clutched in his arms as he looked up at her.

Puzzled, she asked, “What’s that?”

He hesitated, trying to hide it. “Nothing.”

He rose to put it away, but she’d already crossed to him, pressing his hand down, pushing him back into his chair.

She snatched the bundle from his arms and unfolded it. “What’s this? Clothes? Hm… looks like women’s clothes… this is women’s clothing!”

Because there, unmistakably, was a rose-pink undergarment and a pair of gauze trousers.

Her eyes shot up. “Are you hiding a woman in your room? Sneaking around with some other woman behind my back? Keeping a mistress hidden away, doing improper things with her while I’m not around?!”

He watched her in silence.

She’d worked herself into a furious flush.

Whatever had happened between them before, whatever might happen after, during this time when he belonged to her, if his body had been touched by another woman, that was a betrayal.

She grabbed his chin, forcing his head up.

She scanned his face for any marks, his neck for any traces… he flushed so easily after such activities. With his fair skin, marks would be hard to hide.

She found nothing on him, then swept her gaze around the room instead.

Still, she couldn’t spot anywhere in this tastefully, antiquely furnished room where a living, breathing person could possibly be hidden.

Confusion clouded her eyes.

Only then did he speak. “Do you suppose I have the energy to juggle another woman on top of dealing with General Shen?”

His eyes were clear and dark, his face composed, the whole of him lit like pale moonlight in the room.

She realized she’d been overthinking.

Stubbornly, she said, “You haven’t even been ‘dealing with’ me lately. Besides, if I were you, I’d keep several women at once, just to spite me.”

“…”

After a moment, he smiled. “I’m not quite so childish as that.”

He watched her quietly as she withdrew her hand, then fixed him with a dark, faintly self-conscious stare at the reddened mark she’d left on his chin. “So what’s the story with these women’s clothes, then?”

She glanced left and right; he said nothing.

Then, all at once, understanding struck her.

She leaned over the small table, chin resting on the soft fabric of the gauze skirt, her dark eyes suddenly bright. “Could it be… is this for me?”

She asked it with unusual uncertainty.

Before he could answer, she’d already leapt past her own question, gathering the clothes into her arms. She switched questions instead. “Can I try it on?”

She scrambled for a justification. “There’s no other young woman here besides me. I know you don’t have unusual tastes, and you certainly wouldn’t wear it yourself… unless you’re planning to recruit a female guard, add her to your ranks? But I didn’t see any skilled female fighters when I arrived, so if there is one, she’s clearly not here now.

“And besides, besides… skilled female fighters never like this kind of clothing anyway.”

She blinked, scrambling for more reasons. “Only I wouldn’t mind it. I’ll help her out and try it on, then give it back to you. I don’t want it anyway.”

The quiet, distant light in his eyes slowly softened.

The way she racked her brain for excuses was so foolish, so endearing. Acting completely unlike herself, all because she wanted to try on a dress. And insisting she didn’t want it… anything that wasn’t hers, she refused to claim.

She was only trying it on.

Just like with him.

She didn’t want him either.

She was only trying, that was all.

He leaned in slowly.

She stared, unmoving.

She knew she was being foolish again, inviting ridicule. But she thought—in his eyes, she was already something of a madwoman; her image couldn’t get much worse than it already was… She suddenly went still, faintly dazed.

He gently rested a hand against her cheek, brushing away a bit of dust from a stray lock of hair. Then he wiped a speck from her lashes. She pressed her lips together, thrown off balance by the ticklish touch, her heart aching faintly.

He said gently, “There’s no other woman. Little Wutong, this outfit was always meant for you. I had the tailor work on it for a full ten days—from the flower crown to the embroidered shoes—made for you alone.”

He said, quite earnestly, “It’s my gift to you.”

She froze.

Lost in a strange, hollow feeling, she forgot even to protest his calling her “Little Wutong.”

She said, “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t like women’s clothing. Because… I’d never seen you wear any.”

She almost told him it wasn’t that she disliked it—she simply never had it, not since she’d been mocked so often for it as a child.

She didn’t say any of that.

She lowered her eyes, fingers tightening around the clothing on the tray, slowly drawing it closer to herself.

“Then why did you have new clothes made for me?”

Her face flushed faintly, a little awkward.

Yet she pressed on stubbornly. “Didn’t I just buy clothes from the tailor’s shop recently?”

She gestured at the narrow-sleeved martial robe she wore, red and white, sharp and handsome.

“This one’s fine too.”

He said, smiling, “I was only meddling, then… my choice can hardly compare to what you picked yourself; you’d surely have no use for it. I was simply bored while recovering, thought of something to occupy the time. If you don’t want it, never mind.”

Stubbornly, she said, “Of course I don’t want it.”

She looked him in the eye. “I’ve never wanted anything of yours. I’ve never taken anything from you. You know that.”

Even the little paper kite she’d briefly liked, she’d thrown away in anger after he ran off.

Apart from that, she’d never taken so much as a single thread from him.

He nodded. “Yes, I know. So if you don’t want it, just give it back.”

He reached for the other end of the fabric on the table, attempting to take it back.

He didn’t manage to move it, of course.

Because her fingers had clamped down on the other end, refusing to let go.

He reminded her gently, “Wutong, this fabric is especially delicate. If you keep pulling like that, you’ll tear it.”

She released her grip at once.

She sat blankly for a moment, then looked up, dark eyes fixed on him, leaning forward, chin raised toward him. “I don’t want it, but I’d like to try it on. Any objections?”

His eyes crinkled with amusement, and he shook his head silently.

Seeing that she was about to kneel right there and start pulling off her robe, he quickly turned his head toward the window, gesturing toward the folding screen. “You can change over there.”

“…Hmph.”

Her mind was entirely occupied with the novelty of the outfit now, with no attention left over to tease him. She grabbed the tray and darted quickly behind the screen, immediately setting to work on the clothes.

He waited quietly.

His heart was light with happiness—he hadn’t expected her to actually like it. If she did, he was determined to find some way to make sure she kept it.

But given how reluctant she was to accept anything from him, how was he supposed to coax her into keeping this gift?

She fussed behind the screen for a long while, the room filling faintly with incense, and still she hadn’t emerged by the time he surfaced from his own thoughts.

He glanced toward the table, calling softly, “Wutong?”

Her voice came back, a little uncertain. “…I can’t quite tie this sash properly. And this jade pendant, this sachet—am I supposed to wear both of them?”

“Come out, let me take a look.”

He watched the screen as she peeked out from behind it, her hair tied back in a ponytail, a few playful strands clinging to her neck, bouncing faintly with her movement.

She stepped out from behind the screen.

A pale green short cape over a plain white flowing skirt, the hem trailing along the ground, concealing the flat-soled shoes beneath. But with every step, the skirt shifted, revealing a flash of pink at the toe of her shoe.

Unable to style her own hair properly, the flower crown sat loosely balanced atop her head, its tassels swaying with every movement, forcing her to stand painfully straight and stiff, as though terrified the crown might topple if she so much as moved.

The warm glow of the candlelight fell fully across her tall, slender figure.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asked.

“Come here.”

She walked toward him, striding with her usual confident gait, sleeves swinging, skirt billowing, sash trailing loosely behind her…

For all her formidable martial skill, she still managed to trip just three steps from him.

Startled, seeing her outfit about to suffer for her clumsiness, she yanked up her skirt and rolled up her sleeves, prepared to catch herself with her bare arms instead… and in her stumbling, fell straight into a man’s embrace.

He caught her waist from the front, steadying her before she could fall.

She looked up, eyes bright, praising him. “Well done.”

He smiled. “Much appreciated.”

He lowered his head, hand still at her waist, and she bent to look down along with him.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Hold your arms out, let me tie your sash.”

She raised her arms, tense.

Her thoughts began to wander. “I’ve seen so many women on the street with their jade pendants and sachets hanging just so, tied in these elaborate knots…”

She looked down and watched his fingers move deftly, tying the jade pendant and sachet together into a single knot, keeping them fixed in place without overlapping.

Both the pendant and the sachet had been chosen by him, paired specially for her.

Looking down at him from above, his hands working at her waist while she stood there letting him, she felt a fluttering sensation, like feathers brushing repeatedly across her heart, itchy and warm all at once. Her face flushed without her noticing, made faintly dizzy by the clean, warm scent that clung to him.

She muttered, “Are you done yet?”

“Almost.”

He said, “I only saw Second Sister tie a knot like this once—she called it a ‘lovers’ knot,’ I think. I thought it looked nice and remembered it. Not sure if I’ve got it exactly right—forgive me if it’s wrong.”

Her eyes curved. “I think it looks nice.”

She complimented him. “You really can do everything, can’t you?”

“I was mischievous as a child, dabbled in all sorts of things. My sister scolded me for it more times than I can count.”

“Why? Just for being able to tie such a pretty knot?”

“…Mm, more or less, yes.”

“Well, if you’d known me back then, I’d have beaten up your sister for you, made sure she never picked on you again.”

He smiled. “That wouldn’t do at all. If you laid a hand on my sister, I’d be the one with a headache. Our whole family would be in an uproar.”

Her eyes glinted with amusement.

In such good spirits, she was happy to talk nonsense and tease him. “That’s your problem, then, isn’t it? Nothing to do with me. You know very well I enjoy watching you suffer—always have.”

She threatened, “Seems like if you upset me, I really ought to go after your family, to give you some proper trouble.”

He laughed. “Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right. The Zhang Family is my weak point—nothing terrifies me more than the formidable Second Young Lady Shen taking action.”

As he spoke, he finished tying her sash, arranging the pendant and sachet into place.

He stepped back a few paces, taking in the full picture of her.

His gaze flickered.

Fingers twisting nervously at her skirt, heart pounding, she asked, “Does it look good?”

His gaze drifted to her hair.

“Something’s still missing,” he said. “Wutong, sit down—let me do your hair.”

“Huh? No need, you’re not exactly skilled at that either.”

She remembered, back in that village, his hair-styling had been about as clumsy as her own.

She didn’t dare look down, afraid the crown might slip. Carefully lifting her skirt with her fingers, she instructed him instead. “Just find me a mirror.”

“Let me redo it for you instead. I won’t lie to you—I actually studied a few techniques for styling women’s hair recently.”

Pulled down to sit by him, she gave him an odd look, turning her head to study him. “Why would you learn something like that?”

“Are you unwell in the head?”

“…Mm, perhaps I am, in fact.”

He found himself struck by her striking, heroic bearing, her fierce, unyielding temperament… and tonight, he would be struck anew by her feminine beauty.

Ahead lay a cliff’s edge.

And still, he was determined to walk toward it—

His dexterity took her by surprise.

He worked patiently at her hair, styling it, arranging the flower crown, weaving small delicate braids through her locks. He had a maid bring in a box of pearls, threading one into each braided strand as he worked.

He pictured, in his mind, exactly what the beautiful woman of his imagination should look like.

He transformed her into something so lovely that the maid who brought in the pearls stared in open astonishment, nearly walking into the door frame on her way out.

Shen Qingwu laughed, delighted.

She could see the admiration in the maid’s eyes.

When at last a mirror was brought in, she fell in love with herself, just as she was now.

Only… this was just a trial run, that was all.

She held the mirror, admiring her reflection, silent for a long while.

Then, abruptly, she turned to him. “Once I give the clothes back, what will you do with them?”

“Burn them.”

“…?”

He said mildly, “General Shen may not know this, but my family’s discipline is extremely strict—I’m absolutely forbidden from keeping women’s clothing hidden away. If my sister ever found out, I’d suffer for it. So if you have no use for these clothes, I’ll simply have to burn them.”

She looked down. “Such beautiful clothes… didn’t you say it took ten days to make?”

He said, indifferent, “What of it? I’m not short on money, or on time.”

She glared at him for a long moment.

Then looked down again.

She hesitated for a long while.

His heart hung in his throat, afraid her stubbornness would win out over her longing—

It didn’t.

“Since you’re going to burn it anyway,” she said, “I might as well keep it. It’s something you don’t want, after all—it doesn’t count as accepting a gift from you.”

He let out a breath of relief, a smile breaking across his face.

He leaned in, reaching toward her collar, fingers slipping inside.

Startled, but so pleased with him tonight that she didn’t throw a punch, she let his hand slide beneath the thin fabric of her robe.

“Hm? Why do you still have this jade pendant hidden underneath? Why not take it off? You already have one at your waist.”

She stared at him, utterly lost, as his hand pressed against her chest.

He tested her gently, murmuring, “No woman wears this many jade pendants at once. You look so lovely tonight—shouldn’t you dress with a bit more care?”

“Women don’t wear that many pendants? I’ve only got two.”

“It’s not allowed.”

He coaxed her further. “Take the one at your neck off. Set it aside. Don’t let it spoil your beauty tonight.”

“I’m beautiful?”

“Absolutely.”

He began praising her, listing all the ways, until she was thoroughly dazed by the compliments, floating on air.