The wild wind swept over the broad, open grounds of the pasture, battering the incompletely latched window in the outer room of the dwelling, filling the air with a strange, insistent knocking sound.

Mu Fulan was startled awake from her sleep, heart beating rather fast.

They had been staying here for several days already. For a child, this was truly a wonderful place to roam and play. Xi’er adored it.

In the darkness, she instinctively reached out and patted the space beside her. Her fingertips touched a small, warm little body.

Xi’er was curled up against her, sleeping peacefully.

Mu Fulan exhaled slowly and let herself relax.

She climbed out of bed, felt her way through the dark to the outer room, and stopped at the window to peer outside.

The night lay deep and heavy. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder rolled up over the distant mountains. Rain was coming.

She fastened the window shut and went back to the inner room and the bed.

Afraid that the thunder would startle Xi’er awake, she drew him into her arms.

Outside, lightning flashed and thunder crashed; the wind howled and the rain fell cold and hard. She held the small person in her arms tightly, and inside the warmth of the quilt, she closed her eyes.

She drifted in and out of sleep, not knowing how much time had passed or how deep into the night it was, when it seemed that at the edge of her hearing, a few faint, quiet knocking sounds came again.

In her drowsy half-wakefulness, she assumed at first it was some door or window somewhere that still hadn’t been properly latched, being rattled by the wind and rain.

But very soon, she realized she had been wrong.

She came fully awake. Xi’er was still sleeping soundly at her side, and outside, at some point, the wind had stilled and the rain had ceased.

She listened closely — the knocking sound had stopped as well. All around her was utter silence, save for the crisp, clear drip of accumulated rainwater falling from the eaves of the corridor.

Perhaps it had only been a sound in a dream.

Mu Fulan opened her eyes and gazed at the window.

Outside was still deep and dark. She estimated it must be around the fourth night watch.

Just as she was closing her eyes again, the sound came once more.

This time, it was unmistakable.

Someone was knocking at the door.

In the wake of the fire that had struck before, and given the abnormal weather this autumn with its frequent nighttime lightning and thunder, the night patrols at the pasture had become far more rigorous than before. And since her arrival, the courtyard where she was staying was closely guarded at all times through the night.

At this hour, when everyone was deep in sleep — who would come knocking at this door?

Mu Fulan slowly sat up. She wrapped a garment around herself, got out of bed, lit a candle, held the candleholder in her hand, and walked into the outer room. She stood behind the door and asked softly: “Who is there?”

“It is me.”

From outside the door came a man’s low, muffled voice, carrying what seemed to be a trace of weariness.

Mu Fulan recognized immediately who it was.

She quickly dressed herself, slid open the bolt, and opened the door.

A rush of cold, damp-laden air swept in, sending the flame in her hand swaying.

In the wavering glow of the dim yellow candlelight, she saw a cloaked figure standing at the door.

The man lowered his head and stepped through the doorway into the room.

Residual water trickled slowly down from the edges of his rain-soaked hat and straw cape, as though he had braved the storm and wind of the earlier part of the night and traveled a long night’s road to arrive here.

Mu Fulan was rather surprised, and somewhat bewildered as well. But seeing that he said not a single word, only stepped inside and stopped by the door to begin removing his rain hat and straw cape, she did not ask where he had come from or why he had braved the rain to come here through the night. She simply stood to one side in silence and watched. When he removed the rain hat and cape and held them out toward her, she set the candle on the table beside her, received them, and arranged the rain gear in the corner by the door to drain.

“I am hungry. Is there anything to eat here?”

She heard him ask.

She turned around.

The rain gear had not fully shielded him from the night’s wind and rain. His sideburns and brows still held a faint trace of damp, and his clothing was more than half soaked through, clinging tightly to his body.

He stood behind her like this, looking at her, his face heavy with exhaustion, his appearance carrying a somewhat bedraggled quality.

Mu Fulan hesitated a moment, then said: “The cook does not sleep here, but there should still be some leftover food from last night in the kitchen. If you do not mind, I can heat it up and bring it to you.”

He rubbed the side of his head and said in a low voice: “Good.”

Mu Fulan glanced at him, pushed down the questions in her heart, and told him to wait.

She went out, roused the maidservant sleeping in the adjacent room, and went to the kitchen. She found what remained of the previous night’s food, lit the stove, heated it through, and brought it back.

There was still a while before dawn. She sent the maidservant back to bed, then picked up the food box herself and pushed the door open.

On the table, the candle still burned, casting its still light across the room.

But the man was nowhere to be seen.

Mu Fulan gently set the food down on the table, took up the candleholder, and made her way toward the inner room.

She had only gone a few steps when she stopped.

Damp clothing, an undone sash — draped in disarray over the back of a chair. On the floor before the bed, two men’s boots lay side by side, one of them tipped over on its side.

The man was lying face down on the pillow, occupying the spot where she had been sleeping, his face turned toward Xi’er — who was still deep in sleep — and he had drifted off entirely.

The room was hushed and still. His back was motionless, and he breathed with a deep, steady rhythm.

Mu Fulan stood holding the candleholder and gazed at the two figures lying side by side on the bed — the large one and the small one — without moving.

After a moment, she gathered her clothing and quietly withdrew.

She opened the window and hung the damp clothing out to air.

She blew out the candle, and in the darkness, wrapped her arms around her knees and sat alone in a chair, looking out at the hazy night beyond the window, waiting for daybreak.

…

Xie Changgeng opened his eyes to find that day had fully arrived.

A shaft of morning sunlight poured in through the window and bathed the room in warm, rosy light.

Before his bed stood a child.

The child had a pair of dark, bright eyes fixed on him wide open, as though he had been observing him carefully for some time.

Xie Changgeng’s gaze came to a halt.

The child seemed to have already waited quite a long while. Seeing him finally open his eyes, the boy’s face immediately broke into an expression of cautious, restrained delight, and he said quietly: “Lord Xie, you are awake?”

The sunlight fell on the floor before the bed, a little blinding.

Xie Changgeng closed his eyes briefly, and within moments everything came back to him.

Last night, to escape his mother, he had fled in something close to panic — braving the rain, riding over a hundred li through the night, and arriving here utterly cold, hungry, and spent. When she went to get him something to eat, he had meant only to lie down for a brief rest, eyes closed for a moment. But the instant he undressed and his head touched the pillow and he breathed in the faint, warm trace of fragrance lingering there, every part of him completely let go — his eyes fell shut and he was fully, deeply asleep.

He, who was accustomed to waking early, had slept straight through until now.

He slowly turned over and held the child’s gaze for a moment, then reached out and ruffled the boy’s little head.

“Where is your mother?” He sat up and glanced around.

“Mother is outside! My lord, wait a moment — I will go call her.”

Xi’er turned and ran off, calling out as he went: “Mother! Lord Xie has woken up!”

A moment later, a slender figure appeared at the doorway.

The woman walked in holding his clothes, set them down, and said: “Food is in the outer room. Once you have washed up, you may eat.”

With that, she walked back out.

Xie Changgeng quietly put on his now-dry clothing and went out to find that water had been brought and breakfast laid out on the table.

After washing up, he finished eating quickly and went out.

Last night’s wind-and-rain journey felt like something from a dream. The pasture before him was bright with sunlight, stretching out without end.

The pasture steward was already there with his men, waiting for him, and gave a report on the repairs and reorganization following the recent fire.

Since he had come this far, there was no point in going back just yet. Xie Changgeng personally made a full tour of the pasture, and by the time it was done, half the day was gone.

Still he did not want to leave. He called the child over and asked how he had been spending his days out here.

Xi’er said: “In the morning, Mother teaches me to read and write. Once we are done, I go and play with my little dragon horse.”

Xie Changgeng smiled: “Your little dragon horse is already big enough to be ridden. Would you like to learn to ride? I will teach you.”

He watched the child’s eyes fill with a flash of delighted surprise, and the boy was clearly about to say yes — but then he suddenly turned and looked past him, ran forward, and called out: “Mother! Lord Xie says he can teach me to ride a horse!”

Xie Changgeng turned his head and saw the woman walking over quickly, taking the child by the hand and shaking her head at him: “Xi’er! Lord Xie has many important matters to attend to — you must not bother him…”

Xie Changgeng walked over and cut her off.

“I came out here this trip to check on the pasture, and today everything is done. There is nothing else. It is perfectly fine.”

He finished speaking and instructed the steward to fetch a set of small horse fittings and a saddle.

The small horse was also led over by an attendant. Xie Changgeng personally fitted the bit and saddle himself, then walked over, took Xi’er by the hand from Mu Fulan, lifted the boy up, and set him in the saddle.

“You need not worry. I will keep him safe. He will be back before dark.”

Xie Changgeng turned his head, looked at her, and said.

…

For the whole afternoon, Xi’er had gone off with Xie Changgeng and was nowhere to be seen. It was only at dusk, when the sky was nearly dark, that they finally returned.

Xi’er was drenched in sweat from head to toe. He washed, ate his dinner, and seemed still immersed in the joy of having just learned to ride. It was not until he was lifted up and put to bed and finally grew still that the exhaustion of the day caught up with him.

His eyes growing heavy with sleep, he gave a yawn and murmured drowsily: “Mother… Lord Xie said he would take me riding again next time he had a chance… when will his next chance be…”

His voice trailed off gradually and faded away.

She looked down to see Xi’er’s eyes had closed. He was fast asleep.

She stood up, made her way silently to the outer room, and spoke to the man’s back — he was standing at the window — and said: “Sit down.”

When they had returned this evening, he had said the wound on his back was sore and aching, and had asked her to take a look at it.

Xie Changgeng turned his head and glanced at her, then closed the window and ambled over unhurriedly. He undid his own garment and sat down beside the table, his back to her.

Mu Fulan raised the candle to give more light and leaned in to examine it.

The two wounds had largely healed. But the skin was pale and slightly soft, gently swollen — clearly caused by being soaked in the rain the previous night.

“Did I not tell you to avoid getting wet in the rain? Why come through the storm last night?”

She wiped the area with medicinal water and said this evenly, without looking up.

“Rub it a bit for me while you are at it.”

He mumbled, not addressing what she had said.

Mu Fulan acted as though she had not heard, and turned away.

“This place is a little small. I have been sharing a bed with Xi’er. If you are also sleeping here tonight, I will have someone make up an extra bedroll…”

A pair of hands came from behind, wrapped around her waist, and pulled her back.

Mu Fulan tumbled backward, landing on the man’s lap.

She tried to get up. He would not let her. In the struggle, somehow — neither could say who — someone knocked against the table.

The table shifted slightly. The candle on top lost its balance and fell with a soft thud.

The light went out.

The room was plunged into dim darkness.

Mu Fulan’s heart pounded. Her whole body — skin and flesh and bone — drew taut, her hair standing on end.

He seemed to sense the change in her body and stilled.

“Be careful not to wake Xi’er.”

A moment later, he said it softly beside her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

Mu Fulan went still.

The man’s arms slowly wound around her waist, tightening, drawing her whole body into his chest.

He lowered his head, parted his lips, and gently took her earlobe between them, his face and hair brushing against hers with a slow, intimate closeness.

“Mu Shi, you need not fear me. Stay with me — I will treat you well.”

In the darkness, Mu Fulan heard him say this in a low voice close to her ear.

He finished speaking, then stood up. He lifted her, laid her back on the table behind him, and leaned over her.

Her skirts were pushed up and gathered around her waist.

The cold, hard surface of the table pressed tight against her now-unshielded skin.

Mu Fulan closed her eyes, pressed a hand over her face, the rims of her eyes burning with a dull ache.

Once, she had felt such a sense of peace — following him, being his wife.

The man seemed to feel the submission and compliance of the small woman beneath him. Driven by a strange, fierce exhilaration, his whole body blazed with heat.

His fingers closed tightly around the warm skin of her leg, drawing her to wrap around his waist. Just as he was pressing forward with urgent desire — from outside the door came the sound of quick, urgent footsteps.

“My lord, someone has come from the city — there is a matter with the Old Madam!”

Xie Changgeng went rigid. A long, slow breath left his chest.

He gradually released his grip on her leg, stepped back from her, smoothed her skirts back down, and straightened his own clothes. Then he opened the door and walked out quickly.

A servant had been sent from the Military Governor’s residence, saying the Old Madam had spent the previous night packing her things and making a scene about wanting to go home. The steward had not dared let her leave. Now the Old Madam had refused all food, and from morning onward had not taken so much as a single grain of rice. Given her age, the steward feared she would not hold out and was asking him to return as soon as possible.

Mu Fulan was in the inner room and could faintly hear the voices speaking outside.

After a moment, Xie Changgeng came back inside. He lit the lamp, his expression dark with frustration, and said to her simply: “Something has come up. I am heading back.” Then he turned to go. But his footsteps paused at the door. He turned back and looked at her, then walked back quickly. He lifted her down from the table, carried her into the inner room, and laid her on the bed beside Xi’er.

“Sleep. When I have time, I will come and see you.”

He bent down, pulled the quilt over her, patted her cheek as though to comfort her, then turned and left in haste.