Looking out from the window of this ordinary teahouse, one could see a dozen or so residential dwellings stretching out in a connected row.

These residences appeared to have been converted into private schools. Even as the night had grown deep, people still sat gathered around teachers, listening to lessons.

Looking more closely, Chen Baoxiang’s pupils contracted slightly.

Children of all ages — hundreds visible at a single glance — some neatly dressed, some in worn and ragged clothing, all of them girls, each holding a book, reading aloud by the light of candles scattered throughout.

“When the former Empress regnant was in power, women could attend academies alongside men. But that era lasted fewer than fifty years.” Li Bingsheng looked downward. “After that, women in the academies grew fewer and fewer, less and less.”

“During the day they must do many tasks — from morning to night, with little rest. Only in the evenings do they have a spare moment. But reading at night costs candles, and precious few households can afford that.”

“Every child you can see out there tonight is one who refuses to submit, refuses to accept her fate. Give them a little candlelight, and they will walk dozens of li to come and learn.”

“Yet I do not hold power securely. The road ahead is treacherous, fortune and misfortune unknown. Should the day come that I lose — these children will lose even this small candlelight.”

Chen Baoxiang listened, stunned.

The Princess Imperial, with great power in her hands — and this was what she worried about most?

Indeed, from the time the late Emperor ascended the throne to the present day under the new Emperor’s rule, opportunities for women to study had only grown fewer. Even her martial sisters had books to read only because Elder Ye had gone door to door to persuade their families.

Yet this did not mean that everything Li Bingsheng did was right.

“You resent me for that drug — that it could have ruined your body, that I gave no thought to your future prospects. Am I right?” Li Bingsheng read her thoughts with effortless ease, and couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “But Chen Baoxiang, what I was wagering on was precisely your future prospects.”

As long as Chen Baoxiang valued her own future enough, she would be given a clear and bright path forward.

“They say you cannot read, that you have only been taught some military strategy by word of mouth.” Li Bingsheng said with a note of regret. “Military strategy cultivates generals — it does not teach the art of rulership. So you do not know that those in positions of power must have both method and conviction — neither can be lacking.”

Never mind a drug and a scheme — there had been lives on her hands, she did not know how many, and she could not possibly explain or atone for each one.

She knew what she was doing, and she knew what she was doing it for.

What she wanted was to win — not a victory for herself alone, but a victory for every person who stood where she stood.

Those who accomplish great things cannot be bound by small matters.

Chen Baoxiang understood.

It was that she herself had been too insignificant before — so of course it was natural not to be taken seriously. She had to climb, had to rise, so that she would never again encounter something like this.

As for the Princess Imperial — she still did not think her entirely right. But she looked out the window once more and asked, “These candles — did Your Highness provide them all from your own private stores?”

“Naturally.”

“How much per candle?”

Li Bingsheng gave her a faintly disdainful look. “What fool pays several taels for a candle? I pressed my authority down, and the shopkeepers at the East Market dared charge me only one copper above cost — six copper coins each — more than enough to light up this darkness.”

Chen Baoxiang’s expression finally softened.

Not entirely right — but where she was right, the rightness was genuine.

She gave Li Bingsheng a fresh bow, then broke into a grin. “This subordinate is slow-witted. I humbly ask for Your Highness’s continued guidance in future.”

Li Bingsheng had prepared a whole string of words to console her — but in the blink of an eye, this person had already reasoned her way through it on her own.

She hesitated a little. “You’re no longer angry with me?”

“I am fortunate that Your Highness is so magnanimous as to still permit me these small shows of temper.” Chen Baoxiang clasped her hands generously. “I have nothing more to ask about. I’ll take my leave now, lest someone on that side comes back and finds me gone and starts imagining things.”

“This subordinate takes her leave.”

The light of the teahouse gradually fell away with her footsteps as Chen Baoxiang descended with long strides, while inside her heart, light was kindling bit by bit.

She did not understand the feuds and entanglements within the imperial city, nor did she know what calculations the Princess Imperial was truly making.

She only knew that the market price for candles at the East Market was ten copper coins — and that Li Bingsheng had obtained them for six, to use here. That meant she had taken pains.

If she were in her position, she would do the same.

That was enough.

·

Zhang Zhixu came back from his bath to find no one there, and had already begun imagining things.

The room still held the fragrance of roasted sweet potatoes, yet all around was empty and quiet, and even the wind that blew in from outside felt especially cold.

He pressed his lips together and pinched the now stone-cold sweet potato, then asked Ningsu, “Where is she?”

Ningsu answered honestly. “She said something came up and she went back for a bit.”

Wonderful. She, a records official, was apparently busier with official duties than he was, the head of the Bureau of Works.

Zhang Zhixu flicked his sleeve in irritation, and the more he thought about it the more baffling it became. “What is her heart made of? She deceives people with a composed air, she takes lives with a composed air, and even after doing that sort of thing and then leaving — still completely composed.”

“It seems as though nothing in this world can touch her.”

“Next time. Next time I absolutely will not bother with her again.”

The more he spoke the more vexed he became, until the fury seemed ready to surge from his very eyes.

Ningsu had just opened his mouth to offer comfort when Jiuquan’s voice came from outside the door. “Master, Officer Chen has arrived.”

The door was pushed open. Chen Baoxiang poked half her head in from around the partition, looking slightly sheepish yet pleased. “You’re done tidying up?”

Zhang Zhixu: “……”

Ningsu watched with raised brows as the man who had just seemed ready to explode with rage inexplicably let the furrow in his brow loosen.

Though his complexion was still dark, and he let out a deeply displeased huff.

Officer Chen approached in puzzlement, just about to speak, when she didn’t notice what was underfoot — her step faltered and her balance tilted.

Zhang Zhixu instinctively reached out to steady her. Having steadied her, he then scolded. “Have you forgotten how to walk?”

Chen Baoxiang stared at him blankly, then her mouth began to pucker. “Why are you so fierce.”

The last syllable quavered, sounding as though she might cry.

Zhang Zhixu froze, then softened his voice. “I’m not fierce. I’m just — you left without telling me a word, and I’m not allowed to be even a little displeased?… It’s not that I’m that displeased either. Just a little. If you’d just explain yourself properly to me, wouldn’t that settle it. Where did you go?”

Chen Baoxiang opened and closed her mouth with some difficulty, the shimmer in her eyes welling even faster.

“…Fine, fine, I can more or less guess. What could be so serious that you’d cry about it in front of me.” He grabbed his sleeve in frustration and used it to wipe her eyes. “Enough of that. I’m the one who was left behind — you’re the one who walked away on your own, why are you the aggrieved one.”

“All right. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Ningsu, go tell the kitchen to make something good. Meat would be best.”

Ningsu: “……”

The thing is, she hadn’t even said anything yet, and he had already talked himself out of his own anger?

Who was the one who had been furious just moments ago?

For the first time in his life, Ningsu felt that his own master was truly, hopelessly without backbone.