This continent stretched westward until, at its farthest edge, unbroken snow peaks rose beyond sight. No one knew what lay beyond those peaks; no one had ever crossed them. The snowmelt gathered into trickling streams that slowly merged into a great river, flowing from Qi Guo in the west, through Xia Guo in the southwest, to where it crossed Chen Guo and Ning Guo. At the border between Chen and Ning, the river widened to over two hundred zhang across.
Linnan City was built against the mountains. Its walls wound and coiled along the mountainside, fortified at every strategic point—like a great dragon holding the city firmly within its protective embrace.
The fifteen cities east of Linnan, toward the imperial capital, were all plains—Ning Guo’s granary. Tributaries of the Han River irrigated this fertile land, and with its mild climate, the region was abundant in produce; eighty percent of Ning Guo’s grain and vegetables came from here. If Linnan City fell, the enemy could drive straight through to seize these fifteen cities, dealing Ning Guo a crippling blow. Linnan’s importance rivaled that of the western border city.
Linnan in the south and the border city in the west were Ning Guo’s two great southeastern gates. Only by holding them could Ning Guo’s safety be assured.
East of Linnan City, the mountain cliffs receded, forming a natural harbor. The Southern Army’s naval camp was established there, barely five li of waterway from the south city gate—able to advance or retreat as needed. Combined with Linnan’s natural defenses, this was why none of the three kingdoms along the Han River had ever dared provoke it lightly.
The jade rabbit moon had just risen, stars sparse, clouds thin, the Han River flowing heavily eastward. A column of soldiers exchanged watchwords with disciplined precision as they changed guard. At the crenellations atop the cliff wall west of the south gate stood a young general. Black soft armor clung tightly to his tall, lean frame. His features were sharp as if carved by a blade, his eyes glinting like cold stars, his well-defined mouth curved in a faint, distant smile. He gazed far southward across the Han River. His eyes seemed to pierce across the broad water’s surface to the scenery beyond. Under the faint moonlight, dense shadows of ships were visible on the river’s south bank. His hand rested on the parapet, fingers tapping lightly. Waves crashed against the city wall, unsettling his thoughts as well.
Over the past three years, the Prince of Ning had grown increasingly frail; reports said court sessions had been suspended for a month already. All state affairs were now handled by the Crown Prince. Tensions in Feng City were rising. And Chen Guo had spent years diligently drilling its navy—likely waiting for exactly this moment. Once Prince Li began contesting the throne with the Crown Prince, Ning Guo would immediately face foreign invasion alongside unending civil war.
Not far behind him stood several masked guards in blue-green soft armor. A young man stood respectfully at his side. The young man now stepped forward and said quietly, “My lord, it grows late. Please rest.”
In the past, he would have shot a cold glance and ignored the words entirely. But these past two years, his brow furrowed only slightly, joy and anger having long since dissolved into calm, as he turned again toward the brightest star beside the quiet moon. A pair of eyes naturally flashed through his mind. His gaze turned gentle. Three years now, A’Luo—have you been well?
That day, Liu Jue had furiously razed the Wang family’s stronghold planted in the western hills along the river. Then, receiving the order to pacify the south, he’d traveled the entire way south but never found any trace of A’Luo. Soon after, Prince Li, Liu Fei, took over the right flank army from the border city, while Prince Anqing was brought back to Feng City to retire. Prince Anqing had secretly ordered Liu Jue to take command of the Southern Army and not return to Feng City until the Prince of Ning’s death.
Liu Jue had no choice but to understand his father’s deeper intentions. Over three years, acting swiftly and decisively, he’d gradually brought the Grand Marshal’s faction under control—partly absorbed, partly purged—until the Southern Army answered to him alone, unified from top to bottom.
The Southern Army hadn’t respected this young imperial prince at first. When they’d first met him, cheerful and handsome, and heard he’d only been made Pingnan General because his fiancée had been abducted, they’d been quite resentful, cursing privately that good soldiers had become pawns in his personal vendetta. Not until Liu Jue swept from Shunhe Town south through Gu City to Jing City, clearing three hundred mountains across fifteen cities, wiping out dozens of bandit lairs—his meticulous planning, clean and efficient methods, and ruthless, bloodthirsty swordsmanship—did everyone begin to see him differently. Then came strict military discipline. Only then did the Southern Army truly come to respect him.
Liu Jue still stood at the parapet, letting the river wind lift the edges of his robe. That day, finding no trace of A’Luo on his southward journey, he’d turned the matter over a thousand times in his mind and finally concluded that A’Luo had returned to Feng City. The pigeon corps reported that Zili’s westward journey hadn’t included A’Luo. Neither Prince Li’s estate nor the Crown Prince’s estate knew her whereabouts. Liu Jue had smiled then, thinking A’Luo must be hiding somewhere in Feng City. With the situation unclear, finding her wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing. So he’d ordered the pigeon corps that once her presence was confirmed, the Mingzu elite would secretly protect her without alarming her.
Liu Jue admired A’Luo, in truth—that at such a young age she could lead her mother and maid in an escape, and boldly enough to burn the bridge behind them. Her plan had been thorough, deceiving so many people.
Each time the pigeon corps reported no news, he’d grow despondent, yet also secretly impressed that A’Luo had managed to stay hidden this long without a trace. Until three months ago, when the pigeon corps reported a married couple traveling with an elderly mother toward Linnan City. The mother closely resembled Seventh Madam of the Chancellor’s household. Suspected to be A’Luo and the other two. Only then had he grown excited.
Liu Ying remembered clearly that day his lord had received the pigeon’s urgent dispatch and gotten thoroughly drunk. Alone in the back courtyard, drinking and dancing with his sword, he’d laughed loudly and shouted, “Zili, you were right—A’Luo really is a treasure. She’s come, she’s come to Linnan!” This was the first time in Liu Ying’s life he’d seen his lord drunk. He’d struggled to carry him back, and Liu Jue, lying on the bed, kept laughing, eyes closed, tugging at his sleeve, asking again and again, “Liu Ying, do you think A’Luo will run away again when she sees me?”
Liu Ying’s eyes reddened. At age six, nearly frozen to death on the street in bitter cold, a bowl of meat broth had roused his senses. He’d opened his eyes to see a porcelain-fine, jade-carved child blinking down at him, breaking into a bright smile: “You’re awake? Come follow me from now on—I’ll never let you go hungry.” Liu Jue had been only five then. From that day on, Liu Ying became his personal attendant, and grown, he’d taken command of the Black Cloud Cavalry’s Blue Squad.
Drunk, Liu Jue seemed to slip back to childhood, tugging at his sleeve the way he used to when sick, asking over and over: “I dreamed of Mother. When will Father come home to see me?” Liu Ying, looking at his lord’s handsome brow furrowed with worry, had secretly sworn: once that Third Young Miss from the Chancellor’s household arrived, she’d never be allowed to run again. He’d stake his life on keeping her by his lord’s side.
Liu Ying raised his eyes to his lord’s spear-straight back against the cold wind, and tried once more to persuade him: “My lord, it’s deep winter already. Let’s head back.”
Liu Jue turned and smiled. “Let’s go. Time for a couple cups of hot wine. It’s truly gotten cold.”
Far off, the towering city gate tower of Linnan came into view. Xiao Yu cried out happily, “We’re here, we’ve reached Linnan! I wonder how Nanny Zhang is doing—she’ll be overjoyed to see Madam and Miss!”
Seventh Madam smiled gently. Since leaving the Chancellor’s residence, her spirits had gradually opened up. These past two years of traveling had shown her how wonderful the outside world was; she felt she’d never truly lived before.
“My dear wife, you’re getting livelier by the day—showing your face in public like this? As your husband, I’d better come see for myself!” The carriage curtain lifted, revealing A’Luo’s jade-fine face. Her bearing was calm and composed, only her clear, sparkling eyes darting about with unmistakable liveliness.
Seeing Linnan City rising majestically among the mountains, imposing in its grandeur, she couldn’t help but praise it: “Mountains and water in perfect harmony—truly a first-class tourist city!”
Seventh Madam gave her a scolding look. “Eating and drinking your way across the country, spending freely the whole trip—now we’ve only got a few thousand taels left, and you’re still thinking about sightseeing instead of earning money to support the family!”
A’Luo smiled, and seeing scattered snowflakes drifting in the cold wind, reached out to catch one and sang in an affected, off-key voice: “The north wind, it blows, the snowflakes, they drift—poor Qingluo’s fate, must earn to keep the family fed!”
Xiao Yu and Seventh Madam had heard her tell the story of Xi’er and Yang Bailao before, sad at first, then happy. Back then A’Luo had jumped and fussed, pulling out a red hair cord to tie in Xiao Yu’s hair. Now, hearing her sing in that odd voice, the whole carriage dissolved into laughter and playful bickering.
The carriage was stopped at the city gate. A’Luo secretly marveled—then, remembering Linnan bordered Chen Guo, she relaxed. She hopped lightly down from the carriage and cupped her hands toward the soldier: “Officer, this humble one is Cheng Qing of Feng City, traveling south with my wife and mother-in-law to visit family. I hope you’ll grant us passage.”
The soldier showed no particular favor at first, but seeing a handsome, refined, courteous young gentleman, his expression softened considerably. “Orders from above—anyone entering or leaving must register. Young master, please follow the procedure.”
A’Luo wrote with a flourish, recording her origins and full name. She wasn’t worried about anyone checking back in Feng City—with Uncle Fu and Cheng Yong as witnesses, she was firmly established as Young Master Cheng. She then passed smoothly into the city.
Linnan saw heavy river traffic and many merchants coming and going. The city’s main streets were well-paved, shops lined every block, and dwellings packed densely up the hillsides—bustling and prosperous. A’Luo sat at the front of the carriage, observing calmly. Years ago, she’d given Nanny Zhang a sum of silver to buy a residence in Linnan City with her youngest son and open a small tavern to make a living. She wondered whether, with three more people arriving, this little tavern could still support such a large household.
A’Luo laughed cheerfully. Deal with it when the time came. First, find this Changle Tavern. Following the address Nanny Zhang had given, the carriage turned down a side path, climbing the slope, and before long, they heard the gurgling sound of a mountain spring. A green flag hanging from a treetop bore the words “Changle Tavern.” The driver stopped the horse. A’Luo called out loudly, “Nanny Zhang! Nanny Zhang! We’re here!”
Behind the counter, Nanny Zhang, her hair silver-white but her spirit still sharp, tilted her head suspiciously, then joy flooded her face as she dashed out from behind the counter. She saw, standing on the slope, a jade-fine, handsome young gentleman grinning mischievously at her, while Seventh Madam, supported by Xiao Yu, was climbing down from the carriage. She froze for a moment, then couldn’t hold back tears, choking out, “Madam!”
Changle Tavern was built halfway up the mountainside. It was still early, and the shop had no customers yet. Nanny Zhang hastily took down the wine flag and closed the shop, calling her son and daughter-in-law to greet Seventh Madam and A’Luo.
A’Luo saw that Nanny Zhang’s son and daughter-in-law both had honest, simple faces. In the daughter-in-law’s arms was a sturdy three-year-old boy. A’Luo couldn’t help teasing him: “Tiger Cub? Do you look like a little tiger?”
Tiger Cub, three years old and shy of strangers, hid behind his mother, peeking out with just his little head. “You’re that Third Young Miss Grandma always talks about, the one who’s supposed to be so clever? Why don’t you look like it?”
A’Luo laughed and suddenly pulled out the hairpin binding her hair. Long hair cascaded down like clouds, her feminine bearing suddenly on full display. Tiger Cub’s eyes lit up. “Fairy sister!”
The whole family burst out laughing at Tiger Cub’s reaction. Nanny Zhang quickly led Seventh Madam and A’Luo into the back hall. The estate had three courtyards in sequence—the front was the tavern, the middle was Nanny Zhang’s family’s quarters, and beyond the round moon gate lay another exquisite small courtyard. Nanny Zhang smiled. “I’ve been hoping every single day you’d arrive. Are you and Miss satisfied with it?”
Seventh Madam bowed to Nanny Zhang. “These years, we’ve put you through so much trouble, coming all the way to Linnan to arrange all this for Yutang and A’Luo.”
Nanny Zhang, alarmed, quickly caught her arms to stop the bow. “If Madam hadn’t helped and supported us back then, this old woman wouldn’t have her son, her grandson, or any of this peaceful life today.”
A’Luo looked carefully around, thinking of adorable Tiger Cub. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Nanny Zhang, we’ll stay here tonight, but tomorrow we’ll find another place. You know Linnan well—please look for a spot tomorrow.”
Nanny Zhang was startled. “Miss, why won’t you stay with us? Is this place not good enough?”
A’Luo smiled. “We’ll find a separate place. If something happens, we won’t all be caught in one net, right? This way we can still look out for each other. I’ll come by the tavern often for drinks—that won’t raise suspicion. Remember, from now on when we come, we’re simply ordinary customers.”
They stayed that night, and Seventh Madam and Nanny Zhang talked through everything that had happened these past years. Nanny Zhang listened, by turns tense and sighing, shedding not a few tears.
Liu Jue received word that A’Luo had arrived in Linnan City. Outwardly calm, but inside his chest, waves surged. Liu Ying couldn’t help but ask, “Shall I have her captured and brought here?”
Capture her? What would be the point. Liu Jue forcibly suppressed his urge to see her immediately, and said calmly, “Have the Mingzu elite follow and protect her. Watch the city gates discreetly. If she leaves the city alone, let her go and just follow—but don’t let her mother leave with her. Once inside Linnan City, where else could she go?”
Liu Jue thought to himself, I’d like to see just what you’re planning to do here. Remembering A’Luo’s clever manner, the corner of his mouth curved upward, a smile of curiosity rising.