The three of them entered the city as planned.

Zhang Xingjian caused no trouble; Yang Su and Shen Qingwu posed as husband and wife, and the three entered the city under false identities.

Shen Qingwu and Yang Su had both braced themselves, ready to be discovered at any moment and ready to fight. But the soldiers at the city gate were sparse, and the inspection was far from strict.

Zhang Xingjian struck up a conversation with them, smiling faintly. “I passed through here just last month. Back then there were a dozen or so men guarding the gate. Why is it that today, officers, only four or five of you have come out?”

Shen Qingwu thought to herself: how could he possibly have left the capital last month?

Zhang Yuelu’s mouth—what a lying devil.

The soldier who had been reassigned to guard the gate was in a foul mood, and answered with heavy sarcasm. “Anyone with connections has gone to curry favor with their superiors, off doing the lucrative work. Who’s left to guard the gate?”

Zhang Xingjian feigned innocence. “But I heard recently that the young emperor was assassinated, and the court has sealed off the whole capital—even the Zhang and Shen families have been shut in… They say a woman assassin came out of the Shen family, wanted by the whole realm…”

As he said this, his gaze paused for a moment.

At the same time, the two of them—Yang Su and Shen Qingwu—who had been pressed together up ahead, were also standing in front of the “wanted notice,” staring at the portrait of the woman painted on it.

Yang Su was stunned. “This is… Shen Qingwu?”

He looked at the woman beside him, whose figure, now dressed in women’s clothes, was slender and graceful, then looked again at the coarse, brawny “Shen Qingwu” depicted on the notice.

The artist clearly knew Shen Qingwu was a woman.

But the artist simply could not imagine how a woman could assassinate the young emperor amid a thousand soldiers.

And so, the result was this: the Shen Qingwu on the wanted notice had a face covered in rough, fierce flesh, eyes savage and menacing, lips and nose more like those of an unyielding, valiant man than a woman—nothing at all like the real Shen Qingwu.

Yang Su relaxed. If they were hunting for someone based on this notice, they likely wouldn’t find her in ten years.

Yang Su found it strange. “Even if the artist didn’t recognize Shen Qingwu, surely there’s someone in the court who knows her? And the Shen family, too…”

Shen Qingwu said, “Perhaps they all look down on Shen Qingwu, and never once looked at her properly. Whatever monstrous, demonic shape she takes in their eyes, it makes no difference to them.”

Zhang Xingjian had already finished gathering the information he wanted, and walked up behind the two of them just in time to hear Shen Qingwu’s remark.

Zhang Xingjian smiled gently. “The court isn’t run by any one person’s word alone. Some want to find Shen Qingwu, some want to save the young emperor first, and some don’t want Shen Qingwu found at all. That’s what’s produced the situation we see now.”

Yang Su turned to look at him, surprised. “Isn’t the court entirely under your control… under Zhang Sanlang’s control?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Isn’t he absent? Besides, why should the entire court obey Zhang Yuelu completely? He’s only the chancellor—even the young emperor’s own words can’t fully convince people.”

Yang Su said, “Either way, the young emperor probably won’t survive.”

His tone was cheerful.

As long as the young emperor died, their mission would be complete!

Zhang Xingjian said calmly, “Not necessarily. I just found out that capable physicians and healers from all directions are being escorted to the capital under armed guard, to treat the young emperor’s wounds. The soldiers guarding the city are uneasy, and it hints at one of two things: either the young emperor is already dead, but the news has been suppressed, or he isn’t dead yet—still clinging to a breath of life, waiting to be saved.

“Given how few soldiers remain at this gate, with most of them off escorting physicians… I believe the latter is more likely.”

Yang Su and Shen Qingwu exchanged a glance.

They could not let the physicians reach the capital.

Shen Qingwu asked Zhang Xingjian, “Aren’t we here to see a physician? Who’s the best doctor in this city?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Let me ask around.”

Shen Qingwu and Yang Su went to gather information from the townspeople—mostly Yang Su asking questions while Shen Qingwu listened—while Zhang Xingjian went to find his pawnshop contact for the latest news.

Half an hour later, the three of them stood before a place called “Mingshan Hall.” The plaque reading “A Living Miracle Doctor” that had once hung above the door had been taken down, and the hall was packed with people both inside and out, all waiting to see a physician.

Among the crowd, they overheard the townspeople complaining: the original miracle doctor had been taken away by soldiers, and the one treating patients now was his son. The son was nowhere near as skilled as his father, but he had gone to the government office to plead many times, saying his father was too old to endure such a journey—only to be thrown out by the officials.

The people kept their voices low, afraid of being overheard by patrolling officers.

But beneath their words, the discontent was unmistakably real.

Someone whispered, “That emperor hasn’t done a single good thing since he took the throne. My family’s crops were even seized to build him a villa… why should we save him?

“I say that assassin did well to strike him down!”

Others were anxious. “You shouldn’t say that. The emperor dying this young—who’s going to take the throne? I hear this generation of the imperial family barely has any heirs left… if they just pick anyone at random, wouldn’t that be worse than what we have now?”

“Going back to the days when the princess threw the court into chaos wouldn’t be good either.”

Someone asked, “All anyone ever says is that the princess threw the court into chaos, but nobody actually knows what she did or how it happened. Anyway, two years ago my family could still eat their fill. Now our house is full of the sick, and we have to travel a thousand miles just to see a doctor… In a couple more days, I bet there won’t even be a place left in line.”

Everyone waiting there was either a patient or a patient’s family member, and when the talk turned to sorrow, sleeves were raised to wipe tears, and choked sobs followed one after another.

Someone said quietly, “I hear the princess split off part of Great Zhou starting from Yizhou. I wonder if things are any better in the south?”

“Don’t even dream of it! Heavy troops guard the border, and you’d have to cross the river besides… who would dare go south?”

“Still—still, I want to try! If this emperor doesn’t die and recovers, who knows what new scheme he’ll come up with to torment us next…”

“Ah, but my cousin who works as a clerk at the county office says we might end up at war with the south.”

And so everyone fell into worry together, and everyone sighed in unison.

The three of them—Shen Qingwu, Yang Su, and Zhang Xingjian—listened in silence, saying nothing.

A patrol of officials came by, walking up to Mingshan Hall, and the townspeople gossiping outside quickly fell silent. The soldiers made a circuit in front of the hall, then went inside; those still waiting outside craned their necks and heard the harsh bark of a soldier’s voice from within:

“Pack up tomorrow. You’re all coming to the capital together.”

Those waiting outside exchanged glances, beginning to worry—if the miracle doctor’s son left too, who would treat them?

Perhaps the value placed on the young emperor’s life and the value placed on their own lives were simply worlds apart.

By noon, the three of them finally stepped into Mingshan Hall.

Yang Su beamed warmly, arm around Shen Qingwu’s shoulder. “Doctor, please, take a look at my wife. We’ve searched everywhere for a physician—it’s all up to you now.”

The physician at the front of the hall was a middle-aged man with a square jaw, a well-groomed ring of beard along his chin, and drooping eyes that made him look thoroughly listless.

Listlessly, he had Shen Qingwu sit down, and before taking her pulse he muttered, “It’s no surprise you couldn’t find a doctor. Every skilled physician is being marched into the capital along that official road outside the city. Even if you wanted to see one, it’d be difficult.”

Yang Su, feigning distress, said in surprise, “You mean there are actually plenty of doctors in the city, but we simply can’t reach them? Thank goodness we found you…”

The physician shot him a look. “I might not even be here tomorrow. My father was taken away by soldiers, bound for the capital. I’ve decided to go with him, to look after him. He’s so old—how could he possibly endure that kind of ordeal?”

Yang Su said, “So every physician from south to north has to pass through here…”

He glanced at Zhang Xingjian.

The location Zhang Xingjian had chosen for this town was remarkably clever.

The physician looked at the three of them in turn, lingering especially on the complicated look Yang Su gave Zhang Xingjian.

The physician: “…”

His eye twitched.

Having practiced medicine for many years, he had seen all manner of strange patients, and he had sensed something odd about this particular family’s relationships the moment the three of them walked in.

The young, pretty wife and the handsome, cheerful young husband seemed, at a glance, a picture of harmony and affection. And yet, while the husband was overly attentive to his wife, the wife’s manner toward him was cold and indifferent—she hadn’t so much as glanced at her own husband.

She showed none of the propriety expected of a married woman.

From the moment they’d walked in, Yang Su had fussed over Shen Qingwu like a devoted little wife—pulling out a chair and wiping it clean, making conversation with the physician, pouring him tea. And for all this effort, all he got in return was his wife’s total silence and cold indifference.

This household’s wife truly showed no respect for rank or place—she didn’t hold her own husband in any regard at all!

But then the physician glanced again at the bookkeeper standing behind them, and his gaze narrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

A scholar’s robe, a tall and slender build, refined and elegant. And most striking of all—that face.

Since entering, the bookkeeper had said almost nothing, yet his eyes kept drifting toward the wife, faint and unspoken; the wife said nothing and looked at no one; only the husband bustled about.

As the physician’s fingers rested on Shen Qingwu’s pulse, his heart gave a start: could it be that this household’s wife and the bookkeeper had gotten up to something, and the husband, enduring the humiliation because he loved his wife too much, had brought her out to see a doctor?

And then, considering how Yang Su had said they’d searched everywhere for a physician, while the wife’s complexion looked more or less normal… the physician’s hand trembled slightly.

He thought to himself: could it be that she’d gotten pregnant by someone else, and wanted to end it?

This was a proper clinic! He didn’t do that sort of thing here!

Having formed his suspicion, the physician went straight to checking whether Shen Qingwu was pregnant.

He turned the pulse this way and that, and murmured in surprise, “Hm?”

Zhang Xingjian spoke up at that moment. “Doctor, is her illness serious?”

The physician stroked his beard. “It’s an ordinary, calm pulse… let me check again.”

None of the three of them knew that a “calm pulse” meant she was not pregnant.

The three of them stared intently at the physician.

Unnerved by their scrutiny, he said, “This—this, my lady, could it be that you suffered a serious injury long ago? Your pulse suggests it would be very difficult for you to conceive…”

Shen Qingwu froze.

Yang Su and Zhang Xingjian froze as well.

What on earth was this physician talking about? Why was he checking whether Shen Qingwu was pregnant?

Yang Su even glanced at Zhang Xingjian again.

Zhang Xingjian: “…”

Seeing their varied expressions, the physician assumed he’d struck a nerve.

What woman didn’t want children, after all?

He comforted the cold, distant young lady gently. “Don’t worry, my lady. Given enough time, and with careful nursing from me, it’s still possible you could conceive. My skills may not be sufficient, but once we return from the capital, my father can help nurse you back to health…”

Shen Qingwu said, “Wait a moment. Who said anything about me having children?”

The physician froze.

At this point, not daring to look at Shen Qingwu’s darkening face, Yang Su spoke up quietly, with great difficulty. “Doctor, my wife has some internal injuries… we wanted you to look at those. We didn’t come seeking a way to conceive.”

The physician: “…”

Behind them, Zhang Xingjian smiled.

He hadn’t made a sound, yet Shen Qingwu seemed to sense it as if some spirit were watching over her shoulder—she immediately turned and shot him a murderous glare.

The fact that she could not bear children had been exposed by the physician, and both Yang Su and Zhang Xingjian had heard it. Shen Qingwu felt, vaguely, that this was nothing good—it was a weakness, the kind of thing that would make people pity her or give up on her… She didn’t want anyone who cared about her to know.

Zhang Xingjian stared into her eyes, and saw the confusion and anger there.

His gaze slowly softened.

He said quietly, “My lady and young master should finish seeing the doctor here. I’ll go buy a few things.”

Yang Su, not daring to look at Shen Qingwu, lowered his head. “Oh—oh, all right.”

The physician, too, felt the awkwardness of the moment.

And in his awkwardness, having caught the exchange of glances between Zhang Xingjian and Shen Qingwu, he became all the more convinced that this household’s wife had strayed.

Composing himself, the physician said, “…Ah, right, the injury—I was checking the wrong thing just now, ahem. But even so, though you’re both young, you have reached an age suitable for having children. Let my father help you two with your nursing when—”

Fearing the doctor might keep going until Shen Qingwu smashed the clinic to pieces, Yang Su nearly wept. “Please, just look at her injuries. We’re in no hurry for children, truly!”

The physician said, “I know, I know.”

As the physician examined Shen Qingwu’s internal injuries, taking her pulse bit by bit, his expression gradually grew grave. He looked at her in astonishment, unable to understand how she could have sustained so much damage to her heart and lungs and still be sitting here.

An ordinary person would have died long ago from injuries like these.

The physician called for his apprentice, and as he continued taking her pulse, he began listing off the names of various herbs.

By the time Zhang Xingjian returned, he found the middle-aged physician wiping sweat from his brow, saying with evident difficulty, “Given my level of skill, this is the most I can prescribe for now. Take these for the time being. Once my father returns, he can prepare a proper prescription for you.”

Yang Su asked, “And what if we can’t wait for your father to return?”

The physician glared at him fiercely.

And yet, a healer’s heart is like a parent’s heart.

The physician said, “If you can’t wait for my father, then just keep taking the medicine I’ve prescribed. Take it for a year, don’t let yourself grow angry in the meantime, and avoid strenuous exertion… within a year, it should heal properly.”

Shen Qingwu frowned.

A year?

There was no possible way she had a year to spare for rest.

Yang Su argued with the physician along the same lines, claiming his wife was lively and restless by nature, and there was no way she could avoid strenuous activity. He asked whether the dosage could be increased to shorten the recovery time…

The physician snapped angrily, “Do you think this is a market stall? You think you can haggle with me?”

Yang Su gave an ingratiating smile. “Just give it a try!”

Bored out of her mind, Shen Qingwu stood up, sleeves drooping, waiting for Yang Su and the physician to reach some kind of conclusion. Either way, no one was going to agree to her going a whole year without fighting.

Behind her, Zhang Xingjian gave her waist a light poke.

Shen Qingwu turned back with a cold expression.

He lowered his eyes and raised his sleeve slightly, lifting it just enough to let her glimpse what he’d hidden inside.

The sunlight made Shen Qingwu squint for a moment.

She saw him draw out a slender jade hairpin from his sleeve, keeping it shielded from anyone else’s view, letting only her see it.

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “I saw it on the street just now and thought it was rather interesting. I want to give it to you—do you want it?”

Something stirred in Shen Qingwu’s heart.

Yet she refused. “No.”

Zhang Xingjian laughed softly. “Really, you don’t want it? Even as a little gift to make up for upsetting you earlier—still no?”

Shen Qingwu’s gaze wavered.

Her anger stemmed from Zhang Xingjian having learned of her humiliating secret—she had no idea that he and Yang Su had actually known long before, and that her sulking had nothing to do with him at all. And yet here he was, stepping out of the clinic to buy her a hairpin, trying to coax a smile out of her…

His pale, elegant hand turned the hairpin gently, showing her the small crescent moon carved at its top. A tassel hung beneath the moon, and the body of the hairpin was carved with branches and winding vines.

The hairpin was full of clever charm.

Shen Qingwu’s heart was moved.

She stared at the swaying tassel beneath the moon. “A moon? You have ulterior motives, don’t you?”

Zhang Xingjian protested his innocence. “I didn’t carve it myself—how could I have ulterior motives? I just happened to see it at a roadside stall. It was pure coincidence. Is it pretty?”

It was—it truly was very pretty.

Zhang Xingjian’s eye for such things never failed. This jade hairpin wouldn’t be as costly as his jade pendant; it was more the sort of trinket meant to bring someone joy—not worth much, but full of charm.

Whatever caught Shen Qingwu’s eye, she meant to have.

She said decisively, “How much? I’ll take it.”

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow.

She looked up, and the two of them leaned against the wall together, speaking in hushed voices. “I won’t accept your gift for free. I’ll pay for it myself, in cash!”

Zhang Xingjian said, unruffled, “Then I suppose you’ll be covering my travel expenses too?”

Shen Qingwu gritted her teeth. “Fine!”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes shimmered with light, caught between smiling and not.

His eyes were beautiful indeed, and when he wanted to charm someone, they held the allure of peach blossoms glistening with dew.

This put Shen Qingwu on full guard.

She said sharply, “Mind your place!”

Zhang Xingjian paused, his gaze flickering.

He remembered that, for now, she and Yang Su were posing as husband and wife, and he was merely the bookkeeper.

But then again… being a bookkeeper had its charms too.

He composed himself, his expression turning solemn. “Then may I ask, my lady, how much will you pay this humble one for his hairpin?”

The word “my lady,” spoken aloud, sent a tremor through Shen Qingwu’s heart.

She froze.

Zhang Xingjian said earnestly, “These days, I either sleep out in the open, or make my living scrubbing bowls and dishes. And as I recall, my lady, you’re penniless yourself—quite pitiful, really.”

To avoid disturbing the argument between Yang Su and the physician, the two of them retreated to a corner by the wall to talk.

From the moment Zhang Xingjian had shown her the hairpin, the two of them had drawn steadily closer together, until, with only a clump of orchids between them and the physician’s occasional glances, the faces of the beautiful young lady and the pretty-faced bookkeeper were nearly touching.

The physician glanced over at Yang Su.

The foolish husband was still there, arguing earnestly over a bit of medicine!

If this foolish husband didn’t turn around soon, those two were about to kiss.

As the physician silently lamented all this, Shen Qingwu’s ears were slowly turning red.

Because as he spoke close to her cheek, Zhang Xingjian’s breath brushed against her ear—now near, now far, now light, now heavy—her gaze grew slightly unfocused, and she endured it purely through sheer will.

Zhang Xingjian said with a grin, “I’ll give you an idea, my lady—give this one a kiss, and consider it payment, and I’ll hand the hairpin over to you. How about it?”

Shen Qingwu pretended not to hear.

Zhang Xingjian said bluntly, “Didn’t understand? A kiss. Do you understand now?”

Shen Qingwu’s face darkened.

Like a bristling wild beast, she was provoked by his shamelessness into gritting her teeth. “Dream on. You shameless wretch—don’t you dare think you can take advantage of me!”

She spoke with force and ferocity, as if she wished she could kill him with her glare alone.

Zhang Xingjian sighed with a laugh, tucking the hairpin back into his sleeve. “Ah, so my lady has caught on.”

Shen Qingwu stepped toward him, eyes fixed on his sleeve. “My hairpin…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “What do you mean, ‘yours’? Does something become yours just because you looked at it a few extra times? Aren’t you being awfully domineering? I won’t give it to you.”

He sighed wistfully. “You want the jade pendant, you want the hairpin too. You have no idea how many times you’ve looked at me—why won’t you just want me instead? You treat me so unfairly. I’m quite hurt.”

He put his hand behind his back, thoroughly rakish and shameless, utterly incorrigible.

Shen Qingwu glared at him. “Such glib, honeyed words—you really are a scoundrel.”

—Using every trick to lure me aboard your boat.

Don’t you dare think it’ll go your way.

Zhang Xingjian shot back, “Impervious to reason, no matter what—you’re worse than a scoundrel.”

—I only want you to love me, but your heart is iron and stone, unwilling to let go of that grudge, unwilling to forgive me, unwilling to accept me.

A trace of resentment crossed his fine, refined features, making him all the more maddening to look at.

Shen Qingwu stared at him without blinking.

She was so absorbed, so entranced, that behind her the physician let out an exaggerated, thunderous cough.

The cough was severe enough to sound life-threatening, and Shen Qingwu had no choice but to turn around, her expression darkening.

The physician actually glared at her.

Shen Qingwu was baffled by the glare.

The physician had grown too weary to even comment on this young wife’s blatant infidelity, and said listlessly, “I’ve increased the dosage a bit. The new medicine requires you to avoid strenuous exertion for half a year… with my skills, that’s truly the shortest I can manage.

“Seeking treatment isn’t something to rush. If you’re truly in a hurry, you’ll have to wait for my father… but even he might not be back for a month or two. Who knows what the court will—”

Yang Su’s eyes flickered.

He turned to Shen Qingwu and spread his hands. “I did my best. But it seems… recovering from an injury like this really is troublesome.”

Shen Qingwu had never held out much hope for this to begin with.

After the examination, Zhang Xingjian paid the bill. Shen Qingwu was ready to turn and leave, but Zhang Xingjian insisted they go buy the medicine and have it prepared.

Shen Qingwu thought there was no way she’d actually drink this medicine—there was simply no chance she’d go half a year without fighting—so what was the point of spending money on something she’d never use?

Zhang Xingjian said quietly, “Remember your role, my lady.”

Shen Qingwu’s gaze narrowed slightly: ah, right—they’d come out specifically to see a doctor. They couldn’t very well leave empty-handed without buying the medicine.

While Yang Su and Shen Qingwu went to collect the herbs, Zhang Xingjian left the physician more money than the treatment had cost.

Meeting the physician’s startled gaze, Zhang Xingjian said gently, “Don’t go asking around about her injuries, and don’t mention them to anyone.”

The extra payment, twice the proper amount, turned out to be hush money.

Zhang Xingjian gave him a smile and turned to leave the clinic. The physician, unable to help himself, said, “Young man… you really are… ah, take care of yourself.”

Zhang Xingjian turned back, puzzled, blinking. “Hm?”

The physician chose his words carefully. “That lady already has a family of her own. Why must you ruin a good marriage? Her husband is dignified and impressive, and clearly devoted to his wife—by all appearances, they’re a loving couple. And you, you… you have a fine face. Surely you could find a good match of your own without any trouble?”

Zhang Xingjian instantly understood what the physician was lamenting.

His eyebrows lifted, finding the misunderstanding rather amusing.

He said with a smile, “Oh? Is a fine face all I have going for me?”

The physician said, “I’ve seen plenty of men like you! Lazy, cunning, glib-tongued! Relying on your youth and your looks to seduce wealthy men’s wives into straying. You’ll come to no good end!”

Zhang Xingjian said nothing.

Lazy, cunning, glib-tongued. Young and handsome.

He didn’t think himself quite so terrible—but in some ways, what this physician said… wasn’t entirely wrong about him either.

Zhang Xingjian chuckled quietly.

Before leaving, he deliberately teased the physician one last time. “Oh, I do so love luring our little wife astray, carrying on behind our young master’s back, tangled up with the lady next door. You couldn’t possibly understand a pleasure like that.

“Well, I won’t keep talking to you—I’m off to find our little wife.”

The physician stood frozen, so infuriated by this outrageous notion that he nearly coughed up blood.

Zhang Xingjian laughed heartily, sweeping out the door with a flourish of his sleeve, graceful and carefree as drifting clouds or a soaring crane. He hurried after Shen Qingwu, who had already turned back to glare, impatient at having to wait for him.