Deep winter had arrived. Linnan City was dusted with scattered rain and snow, snowflakes melting the instant they touched ground, a cold, crisp atmosphere wrapping heavily around the city. Each breath brought a chill straight to the heart. A’Luo, dressed in a pale blue-green cotton robe, wore a confident smile as she slowly descended the steps, wandering leisurely about. The city was lined with shops large and small, goods in abundance—furs from Qi Guo in the west, mountain products from Xia Guo in the southwest, silks and fine fabrics from Chen Guo in the south, all could be found here, along with scattered multi-tiered restaurants, inns, and small, simple taverns. A’Luo thought to herself: tourism and trade had driven Linnan’s economic development; walking the streets today, Linnan really was Ning Guo’s greatest logistics hub and tourist city.

Linnan’s bustle had a different flavor from Feng City’s. Throughout the city, merchants speaking every accent and busy porters were everywhere. As a major port, despite the cold winter, boats still came and went frequently. Only the soldiers patrolling everywhere reminded people that this was a border stronghold.

She wandered leisurely out through the south gate, standing at the dock watching the merchant ships. The tallest were two stories high, over twenty zhang long, sails furled, masts standing like a forest. A’Luo wondered curiously how many people it took to row such a massive ship. Approaching for a closer look, she noticed square holes beneath the deck. She imagined the spectacular sight of countless oars extending from those holes once the ship got underway, rowing in unison, and let out another exclamation of admiration.

From Nanny Zhang’s little tavern to the main street, then out to the dock outside the city gate to watch the excitement—the scenery had been lovely, but how to earn money, she still hadn’t figured out. Trading goods along the Han River between the various kingdoms—A’Luo felt she wasn’t capable of that right now. She didn’t want to open another restaurant to be a proprietress either; a restaurant’s mix of staff and customers was too complicated, could easily lead to trouble. As for running a song-and-dance hall for entertainment, that didn’t have much prospect either. She remembered that in the modern world, entertainment venues usually had connections behind them; Ning Guo’s pleasure quarters required registration with the government and paid taxes, and she obviously couldn’t register officially. Besides, Linnan’s population was mixed and full of soldiers—there was a saying about scholars running into soldiers, unable to reason with them. What did soldiers do on leave? Naturally they went to seek pleasure in such places. She had no desire to have her establishment smashed up over some perceived slight in service.

Walking leisurely back into the city, A’Luo’s steps were steady, her mind still turning over various thoughts. She looked up and saw, between several large banyan trees ahead, a flag hoisted reading “Yiluo Tavern.” She thought the name was quite nice, and seeing the word “tavern,” felt the fire of hunger in her stomach burning strong. A’Luo pursed her lips, swallowing, remembering she hadn’t yet tried Linnan’s street food, and quickened her pace toward it.

The tavern was built beside the trees, a spring trickling down from the hillside behind it, and the building had accordingly been constructed in stilted style, its lower level raised on wooden posts among the rocks of the slope—a wooden single-eaved gabled structure. Outside, a platform and covered walkway had been built; the carved lattice windows were covered with a layer of paper cloth, giving an elegant, rustic feel. The slope, washed by the mountain spring, was lush with greenery; the banyan trees, deep green and glossy, shaded nearly half the courtyard, blocking the view from passersby while allowing those seated inside to see the street outside. A’Luo took an instant liking to the place.

Brushing off the fine water droplets that had settled on her cotton robe, she smiled and walked in. As she lifted the heavy cloth curtain that kept out the cold wind, a wave of warmth washed over her. Inside, braziers had been set up, and the proprietor had thoughtfully tossed in a few orange peels, filling the air with fragrance. Paintings and calligraphy hung sparsely on the walls, and in one corner stood a zither—the whole place elegantly and tastefully arranged. A’Luo grew curious about what kind of person owned this establishment.

It was perhaps past noon; only two or three tables of customers occupied the main hall. She walked straight to a window seat and sat down. Before long, a clear, pleasant voice rang out: “Would the gentleman like tea, or wine and food?”

A’Luo started slightly and looked up to see a refined woman in her twenties smiling warmly at her.

“Is this establishment yours?”

“Indeed—Yingxiu.”

Yingxiu? A’Luo smiled faintly. “What a lovely name.” She felt a certain fondness for this proprietress, her smile deepening. “This is my first time in Linnan—might I trouble Miss Yingxiu to recommend some dishes from your menu? Pick two or three of your specialties. Do you have yellow wine? Could you warm a pot and bring it?”

Yingxiu’s heart skipped a beat. The gentleman before her had a gentle way of asking that somehow left no room for refusal. When had Linnan gotten such an elegant, handsome young gentleman? Compared to that block of ice over there, this one’s smile was like a spring blossom unfurling—she couldn’t help glancing to the side.

A’Luo saw Yingxiu had gone a bit distracted, her eyes drifting elsewhere, and followed her gaze, secretly marveling. People said Feng City’s Five Young Masters were the finest among men—Linnan wasn’t lacking either; she’d casually walked into a tavern and encountered someone who rivaled them.

As if sensing the attention, that person turned his head, glanced at Yingxiu, who blushed slightly and shook her head lightly. He then looked toward A’Luo, also pausing for a moment. What a jade-carved gentleman!

A’Luo’s eyes met his, and despite the warmth of the braziers in the room, she felt a cold chill sweep past. She frowned slightly, then broke into a smile again toward Yingxiu: “Did the proprietress not hear clearly? Just a couple of small dishes and a pot of hot wine will do.”

Yingxiu’s face flushed instantly. “Please wait a moment, sir, I’ll go prepare it right away.”

She hurried toward the counter, briskly instructing the staff. A’Luo felt secretly pleased with herself—being good-looking really did have its perks, even eating at a restaurant got the proprietress’s personal attention. She’d have something to brag about to Xiao Yu later.

Before long, Yingxiu personally took the tray from the waiter and set down three small dishes and a pot of hot wine, saying softly: “This is stir-fried winter bamboo shoots, braised rabbit meat, and deep-fried river fish. All local specialties. The wine is our shop’s own brew, called Departing Souls’ Intoxication—only available in winter. Warmed, its fragrance grows richer, and its aftertaste lingers long. Please don’t overindulge, sir.”

A’Luo was quite pleasantly surprised—this Yiluo Tavern had turned out to be a good choice. She found herself growing more interested in Yingxiu, and asked, “Does the proprietress have a moment to tell me more about these local specialties?”

A flash of delight crossed Yingxiu’s eyes, her gaze flicking briefly toward the man beside her. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your leisure, sir.”

“Excuse me, sir—I hear this is your first time in Linnan. If you don’t mind, allow me to explain.”

A’Luo saw that the icy handsome man had spoken up. Her eyes moved from Yingxiu’s slightly flushed face, thinking this proprietress seemed to have feelings for the ice-block man—though she wasn’t sure what he meant by interjecting now. She smiled. “Sure, since this is my first time here, I didn’t realize people in Linnan were so friendly.”

The moment she spoke, Yingxiu’s blush deepened further. “The two gentlemen please sit comfortably—Yingxiu has other customers to attend to.” With that, she hurried off.

The icy man sat down. “This one is Gu Tianxiang. May I ask the gentleman’s name?”

A’Luo’s heart jolted. So this was one of Feng City’s Five Young Masters—son of the current Right Chancellor, Gu Tianxiang! She’d never seen him before; turned out he’d come to Linnan. Her mind spun through several thoughts before she said, “This one is Cheng Qing, from Feng City, here in Linnan visiting family, first time here. These dishes—what’s special about them? Please, do explain.” As she spoke she picked up her chopsticks and ate, pouring herself a cup of wine and drinking it down. The flavor lingered pleasantly, and her hunger grew, so she ate several more bites. Then, suddenly recalling something, she looked up and smiled at the icy man: “I’ve been wandering the city all day and I’m starving—care to join me? We can eat and talk.”

Gu Tianxiang didn’t decline. He sat down, poured himself a cup, and drank, then slowly said, “These winter bamboo shoots are difficult to gather. In winter, the shoots stay buried underground without breaking the surface; only an experienced mountain dweller can spot them correctly—an inexperienced person could dig all day and still not find a single one. I hear there’s a method of observing the shadow of the bamboo tip; where the tip points straight down, there may be a shoot, though not every bamboo tip has one beneath it. Winter bamboo shoots are fragrant and crisp; stir-frying suits them best.”

A’Luo nodded repeatedly, eating several more slices of the shoots—indeed fragrant and crisp. Hearing such an interesting tidbit pleased her, and she toasted Gu Tianxiang, watching him with wide, attentive eyes as he continued.

Gu Tianxiang’s gaze met A’Luo’s eyes, and he paused, feeling a strange sense of familiarity, though he couldn’t place where he’d seen them before. He’d come over to talk partly because he admired A’Luo’s striking bearing and wanted to applaud it privately, and partly because tensions between Ning and Chen had been rising in recent times, and hearing she was new to Linnan, he wanted to probe for information. He took a sip of wine and continued slowly. “Rabbit meat is common everywhere, but Linnan’s rabbits are unusual. Catching this kind of mountain hare is no easy task—they’re smaller than ordinary rabbits. Once you find a burrow, you can’t act immediately; you leave a marker and search nearby, and within two meters you’ll usually find two more small holes. You have to seal one solidly, then smoke the other entrance, and set a net at the original hole to wait. If the rabbit is startled while you’re sealing the holes, it’ll flee before you can even finish setting the net. So catching a single rabbit usually requires two or three people working together.”

A’Luo laughed. “So the saying about a cunning rabbit having three burrows is literally true! I wonder—could someone skilled in martial arts like yourself catch a rabbit easily?”

Gu Tianxiang felt a chill inside. Could she know I practice martial arts? He grew suspicious, prone as he was to overthinking. He said flatly, “If I went to catch a rabbit, no matter how cunning, it wouldn’t escape my grasp.”

A’Luo sensed there was more meaning behind his words, though she couldn’t quite work out what, and smiled. “Then catching rabbits would be beneath someone of Young Master Gu’s talents. What about this deep-fried river fish—what’s its story?”

Gu Tianxiang’s probing remarks had been deflected so lightly by A’Luo that his suspicion only deepened. Who exactly was this refined, composed, jade-like gentleman? He’d spent years in the military and naturally carried an aura of menace; ordinary people, met with his cold gaze, would tremble and lose their words. Yet this person before him, with clear, lively eyes, showed no trace of internal energy cultivation, and yet seemed entirely unfazed by his imposing presence. What kind of background did he have?

Gu Tianxiang, determined to probe A’Luo’s background, continued: “This small river fish is also called rock fish. It can’t be caught with nets—you have to wear waterproof gear at night and wade into the shallows, using a lantern for light, and while the fish are resting stuck to the rocks, catch them one by one with quick hands and sharp eyes. Its body is slippery, and during the day it never stays still, plus it’s as thin as a finger, making it difficult to catch.”

A’Luo said “oh” in a tone of feigned realization. This Gu Tianxiang seemed to know Linnan’s local matters inside and out—his mind must be meticulous, otherwise he wouldn’t pay such attention to detail. She saw the conversation about food was winding down, and the dishes were mostly finished, yet Gu Tianxiang showed no sign of wanting to leave. Had he recognized her? That seemed impossible—the two had never met before, and besides, the three-year-old portrait wasn’t a photograph—how much could it really resemble her? A’Luo didn’t know what Gu Tianxiang’s purpose was in chatting with her, but he was the commander of the Southern Navy, so he clearly had some ability. A’Luo grew more attentive too, and finding he showed no sign of leaving, kept bringing up interesting food anecdotes—elaborate feasts made entirely from bamboo, dishes using every part of a rabbit, whole-fish banquets—embellishing extravagantly.

Gu Tianxiang grew increasingly astonished. This Cheng Qing, no more than seventeen or eighteen, seemed remarkably well-traveled and knowledgeable. The banquets she described sounded like things only the wealthiest households could ever taste. He asked cautiously, “Young brother seems to have traveled to many places and gained impressive knowledge—I’m truly impressed!”

A’Luo pursed her lips, thinking: if I told you about the full Manchu-Han Imperial Feast, from the tableware down to the ingredients, your eyes would probably pop right out of your head. I’m not well-traveled—I’ve just lived twenty years longer than you. She laughed lightly. “I just enjoy good food. Some of this I only heard secondhand—just sharing it for a laugh, brother.”

“I quite enjoy listening to your casual talk of interesting things. Would you be willing to sit with me a while longer? On a day like this, to meet someone as talented and eloquent as you, sir, is truly a delightful occasion.”

A’Luo thought, if I didn’t know your identity, I’d have left already—but now I don’t dare. Might as well chat since I’m free anyway; I’ve got enough stories in me for a thousand and one nights, and if the conversation goes well, maybe I’ll learn something about the city too. So A’Luo and Gu Tianxiang talked from things that fly in the sky to things that swim in the water, covering customs, products, and curious tales of every kingdom.

Gu Tianxiang’s eyes widened more and more as he listened, the coldness in them gradually fading, replaced by curiosity and admiration. No matter how he tried to probe, A’Luo remained open and unguarded before him, thoroughly familiar with Feng City’s ways, speaking the local dialect fluently and naturally. Gu Tianxiang finally became convinced this Cheng Qing wasn’t an enemy spy, and laughed heartily: “Brother, we get along remarkably well. I don’t know how much longer you’ll be staying in Linnan, but if it’s a while yet, do come drink and chat with me often.”

A’Luo, having drunk the Departing Souls’ Intoxication, felt a pleasant buzz. She thought secretly, amused—from “sir” to “brother” to now “young brother”—this Gu Tianxiang couldn’t go long without asking about Feng City’s situation. Some ulterior motive there, probably testing whether her story checked out. A’Luo remembered the registration book she’d filled out entering the city, thinking, surely he wouldn’t take me for an enemy spy. With Gu Tianxiang’s suspicions eased, their conversation flowed much more naturally after that.

Gu Tianxiang relaxed his guard, and aside from steering entirely clear of military matters, grew increasingly fond of A’Luo’s forthright insights. Glancing at the sky, he realized it had grown late without him noticing, and slowly rose, cupping his hands in salute: “I have matters requiring my attention—I’ll take my leave for now. Perhaps we’ll share wine and conversation again when there’s time.”

A’Luo smiled and returned the gesture, then walked back alone, unhurried.

Inside the Linnan City general’s residence, Liu Ying quietly reported: “The Third Young Miss wandered the city for a long time, and stared at the dock outside the south gate for quite a while as well.”

Liu Jue thought for a moment. “Thinking of traveling by water?”

“She looked for a good while, but didn’t ask anyone about it.”

“And then?”

Liu Ying hesitated slightly. Liu Jue turned and said quietly, “Do I need to ask twice?”

Liu Ying hurried to answer: “At noon she entered Yiluo Tavern and met with General Tianxiang. They shared wine at the same table and spoke pleasantly. She left around five in the afternoon; General Tianxiang returned to camp, and the Third Young Miss returned to Changle Tavern.”

When did she come to know Gu Tianxiang? Chatting so casually with a man—hardly proper behavior for a young lady of good family! Liu Jue felt a stab of jealousy, and asked abruptly, “With Tianxiang’s sharp eye, he really didn’t recognize she was a woman?”

“That’s…” Liu Ying hesitated again.

Liu Jue found this strange. “Has she changed so much? The pigeon corps’ sketches show her face has filled out somewhat, but her eyes remain as they were—otherwise you wouldn’t have recognized her either.”

“My lord, according to the Mingzu report, the Third Young Miss’s mannerisms are indistinguishable from a man’s. In winter she wears long robes that conceal her neck, and given her young age, those unaware wouldn’t easily recognize her as a woman.”

Liu Jue sighed softly. “I understand. Keep following her. If she meets with General Tianxiang again, tell the Mingzu people to keep their distance—make sure Tianxiang doesn’t notice them.” He gazed steadily out the window, where a winter plum bloomed, narcissus flowers graceful beside it, and several tall crabapple trees had been forced into red blossom, filling the courtyard with fragrance. He remembered the day he’d disturbed A’Luo while she was admiring the flowers, angering her greatly—she must be someone who loved flowers. Before leaving Feng City, he’d visited Tang Garden once more, and seen a crabapple tree standing in the courtyard there. Chancellor Li, tears streaming, had told him that A’Luo, at age six, had composed the line “The crabapple needs no rouge, standing alone in the fine rain.” She must love crabapple blossoms too. Liu Jue lost himself in thought for a while, then instructed Liu Ying: “Go to the naval camp now and find General Tianxiang. Tell him I invite him to come drink at my residence once his military duties are done.”