Duke Cuiguo’s Mansion.

Princess Anle entered wearing a thick cloak, its collar trimmed with white fox fur that had caught some snowflakes. Now, in the warmth of the interior room, the snowflakes had begun to melt, dampening the once-fluffy collar until it lay flat against her shoulders.

She removed the cloak, accepted a cup of tea from a waiting maid, and took a sip. Cradling the warm cup in her palms, she finally turned to Cui Jinzhi and said, “I went to visit Pingyang yesterday. Her illness had just broken, and she finally seemed to have some energy again. I asked her household physician — he says there is no longer any cause for serious concern.”

Cui Jinzhi replied, “That is good news.”

The hand that had been tightly gripping his teacup finally loosened a little, and he realised with some surprise that his hand had grown stiff and sore.

On the day he had intercepted Li Shu’s carriage outside the city walls and escorted her back to her mansion, he had learned the very next morning that she had fallen gravely ill.

He had wanted to visit her several times, but Li Shu had made her disdain for him so abundantly clear that her household had become an impenetrable fortress — she would not permit him to cross so much as a single step of her threshold.

There was nothing he could do. He could only use a roundabout approach — through Princess Anle — to learn how she was faring.

He had barely had a chance to feel relieved when he heard Princess Anle ask, with some bewilderment, “The physician says Pingyang’s illness is the result of excessive grief and worry. What could she possibly have to grieve and worry about?”

Was it concern for the Emperor’s health? Or the sting of defeat in her political struggles?

Pingyang was not the sort of person who would sink into despondency easily.

Cui Jinzhi heard the question but offered no answer. He knew the answer — he simply had no desire to speak it aloud.

He had been able to prevent the marriage, and he had even been able to put the two of them on opposite sides of a gulf as vast as the distance between the living and the dead. But what he could not stop was Li Shu’s heart. Sometime while he was not watching, she had already developed a deep and profound feeling for another man.

That she had grieved and worried herself into near-death on his account — this was an entirely natural thing. Li Shu was like that. On the surface, she appeared cold; in ordinary company, she never showed any exceptional tenderness. Her true feelings only revealed themselves at moments of crisis.

Most people, when calamity descended, would scatter and fly in every direction to save themselves alone. Li Shu was different. When calamity fell, she only became more steadfast in her devotion.

A bitter smile flickered across Cui Jinzhi’s face. After a long moment, he reined in his emotions and said to Anle, “When I am no longer in Chang’an, I will have to trouble Your Highness to keep a closer eye on Li Shu for me.”

Anle nodded without hesitation. “Of course — I know. Though… though Pingyang has never really been particularly close to me, so there is only so much of her affairs I can find out about.”

The news that Anle could ever glean from Li Shu was, at best, publicly known information. If she could ever actually extract any exclusive secrets from Li Shu, that would be the greatest wonder under heaven.

The rebel uprising among the disaster-struck populace of Luo Commandery had spread and grown into a force of considerable size. The soldiers dispatched from nearby prefectures and counties had been attempting to suppress the unrest for some time but had failed to put down the displaced people, and now the capital’s elite troops would have to be deployed.

Cui Jinzhi had been placed in full charge of the suppression of the unrest in Luo Commandery, and naturally he would have to lead the troops there in person. Moreover, at the heart of the matter, the displaced people’s uprising in Luo Commandery had been something he himself had instigated in order to undermine the Seventh Imperial Prince.

With the year’s end approaching, the rebellion had to be crushed swiftly — otherwise, the entire court, both officials and nobility alike, would have no hope of a peaceful New Year.

Just a few days prior, Cui Jinzhi had received the Crown Prince’s orders; by tomorrow, he would lead his forces out of the capital and march toward Luo Commandery.

Having said his piece, Cui Jinzhi rose to attend to the affairs of his household. He was departing tomorrow, and the Cuiguo Ducal Mansion, top to bottom, depended entirely on him to manage everything — there was still much to arrange and instruct before his departure.

Anle did not linger either. Her tea had not even had time to cool before she rose and took her leave of the mansion.

Standing outside the heavy, black-lacquered gates of the Cuiguo Ducal Mansion, Anle exhaled a long breath of turbid air, as though trying to expel every last trace of the stale and suffocating atmosphere she had breathed inside those walls.

If she had once held any faint girlish affection for Cui Jinzhi, it had by now entirely and completely dissolved. She found the atmosphere of the Cuiguo Ducal Mansion deeply unpleasant — dead and stifling, crushingly oppressive.

The fur collar of her cloak was still slightly damp, so she did not put it on. The cold wind swept over her and sharpened her mind. A maid helped her up into the carriage, saying as she did so, “Just now, the Prince Consort came out of a colleague’s home and happened to pass by here.”

“Oh,” Anle asked absently. “And where is he now?”

The maid replied, “The Prince Consort said he would return to the mansion ahead of Your Highness.”

Anle’s movements halted.

He had no pressing business — why hadn’t he waited for her? He used to wait for her, didn’t he?

Before, no matter what she was doing, Yang Fang would always wait in the same spot for her.

A strange, nameless feeling stirred in Anle’s heart.

Heavy snow blanketed the long street. As far as the eye could see, Wende Lane was utterly deserted — not a single soul in sight. Behind her loomed the Cuiguo Ducal Mansion, dark and silent as death, a place that seemed to swallow whole every visitor who passed through its gates.

She was glad that the Crown Prince had emerged from his confinement and returned to power — of course she was. But bound up with that gladness came the Emperor lying too ill to rise, and Li Shu lying too ill to rise, and even Yang Fang’s attitude toward her growing more and more distant by the day.

Anle looked down at the ground. On the snow, she could just barely make out the faint impressions of Yang Fang’s horse’s hoofbeats, left as he had ridden away.

Why hadn’t Yang Fang waited for her? Anle could not understand it.

Snow fell into her eyes, and for a moment she felt strangely, uncharacteristically lost.

She did not know why. Everything before her now was precisely what she had wished for — yet the outcome was not making her happy at all.

*

The next day, Cui Jinzhi led his troops out of Chang’an. In the blink of an eye, more than ten days had passed, and the New Year was nearly upon them. Chang’an itself looked festive and bustling, but the scene outside the city walls was truly wretched.

Winter had made life difficult, the unrest in Henan Circuit had driven people from their homes, and a great many displaced refugees had made their way through the passes and into the capital, settling just outside Chang’an’s walls to wait — waiting for the powerful and the privileged to let something slip through their fingers, anything at all that might keep them alive.

“In addition to the gruel stations, you might set up a medicine tent as well. Have your household physician come at regular intervals to take pulses. It is the deep of winter, and wind-cold ailments are inevitable — yet those displaced people have no money to seek treatment.”

Li Shu walked along the base of the wall, making her way past the gruel stations Li Qin had set up, and offered him another suggestion as she went.

The great families kept their eyes fixed on the heavens above and were utterly blind to the suffering of the people below. Those who had put out gruel stations were few and far between.

Li Qin had been stripped of all his official duties by the Crown Prince and was currently unable to make any moves in the court. Li Shu had told him to first take the path of winning the people’s hearts — he was the first imperial prince in all of Chang’an to have opened a gruel station for the displaced refugees.

“Do not limit it to the refugees gathered outside the city walls either. Many poor families in the Guanzhong region also lack enough grain to see them through the winter. You can set up gruel stalls outside the village estates in the outlying counties and districts as well. The drought this year has affected a great many people, and the number of those depending on your grain to survive the winter is likely far from small.”

Li Shu offered another suggestion and then coughed softly, pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders.

Li Qin replied, “I have already ordered the people on the estates to do that.”

Li Shu nodded. As she nodded, the blood-jade hairpin in her hair caught the light and flickered. The plain gold hairpin she had once never removed was nowhere to be seen; in its place, this jade hairpin had become the one thing she never took off.

Both were a kind of obsession.

The deeper the red of the jade pin grew, the more starkly it contrasted against the pallor of her complexion.

Perhaps because she had been resting and recuperating, Li Shu had filled out a little compared to earlier — her cheeks had some flesh on them again, and the sharp angle of her collarbones had softened somewhat. Looking at her now, one would find no trace of the collapse she had suffered.

Were it not for the blood-jade hairpin, Li Qin might almost have suspected that his imperial elder sister had completely forgotten about Shen Xiao.

Li Qin withdrew his gaze from the jade pin and said, “It is not right that the Crown Prince will not allow the displaced people into the city. It lacks compassion. This year, while there are indeed additional refugees from Henan Circuit — somewhat more than in past years — they have not multiplied tenfold. If Father were the one governing, he would certainly not have barred them from entering the city to find food.”

In truth, every time winter arrived, people who could not survive the cold would tend to gather outside Chang’an’s walls. As long as the number of displaced people was not too large, the soldiers guarding the city would not stop them — they would let them enter freely to find some menial work, or to rummage through the scraps behind a restaurant kitchen, or at the very worst, to beg along the streets. Any of these options could see them through the winter.

But this winter, the Crown Prince was in power. The Crown Prince was excessively fond of pageantry, and nothing grated on him more than having displaced people appear amidst a prosperous and peaceful era — did it not imply that he was governing poorly? So, in an act of self-deception, he had simply barred the displaced people from entering the city this year.

Li Shu smiled faintly. “Let the Eastern Palace do as it pleases. He has power now — of course he must do something to show off. And as it happens, because the Eastern Palace has earned itself contempt over this matter, and you have put out gruel stations, you will be able to gather even more of the goodwill he has squandered directly onto yourself. Is that not excellent? Benefiting oneself while harming one’s enemies — this is exactly what we would seek out.”

Li Qin let out a soft laugh.

The words were cutting, and Li Shu was exactly the same as she had always been.

Whether or not she had any political allies to lend her strength, seeing Li Shu rallying herself was, in and of itself, a good thing.

The two of them could not linger in each other’s company too long lest people grow suspicious. Besides, Li Qin had already spent the whole morning at the gruel stations, and it was time for him to return to his mansion.

After parting from Li Qin, Li Shu walked toward her own gruel station.

Princess Pingyang’s Mansion’s gruel station was set up farthest from the city gate, and it was a meagre affair — just one stall, nothing more — utterly incomparable to the grand row of gruel stations Li Qin had lined up along the base of the city wall.

Li Shu had set up a gruel station not out of any real desire to provide disaster relief. It was merely to create an opportunity to leave the city and speak with Li Qin. The symbolic significance therefore far outweighed its practical purpose.

Li Shu had walked only a few steps when she frowned suddenly. “Why is Anle clinging to me like a piece of sticky toffee? She is even opening her gruel station right next to mine.”

Right beside her gruel station, Princess Anle’s gruel station had just opened.

A fragrance of fine white rice drifted over from a considerable distance, drawing a good many refugees in, who lined up in front of Anle’s gruel station. By comparison, Li Shu’s gruel station looked particularly deserted, with only a handful of people.

When Li Shu walked closer, she understood why.

Anle was cooking the finest polished white rice in her pot — thick and rich, a full bowl of it. Even ordinary commoners could not afford to eat rice of that quality on a regular basis, to say nothing of refugees. Compared to that, Li Shu’s gruel station offered only the cheapest broken millet mixed with old rice. Any person alive would know which stall had the better food.

Anle was also at the gruel station, and when she spotted Li Shu from a distance, she waved to her and wove through the crowd to approach.

Anle smiled. “It is my first day opening a gruel station. I had no idea there would be so many people.”

Li Shu swept her gaze across the crowd and saw that it was not only gaunt, hollow-cheeked refugees in the queue — a considerable number of perfectly healthy, rosy-cheeked ordinary folk had mixed in as well. No wonder there were so many people; fine white rice was not just drawing in refugees.

Anle added, “The Crown Prince — my elder imperial brother — does not allow displaced people into the city, but he does it with the welfare of Chang’an’s citizens in mind. Otherwise, if refugees poured into the city, they could not possibly be driven back out one by one after curfew had sounded, and they would wander all through the residential wards, sending everyone into a panic. But my imperial brother does not ignore the displaced people altogether — that is why I have come to provide disaster relief myself.”

Li Shu smiled politely and non-committally.

Providing disaster relief with fine polished white rice? How very lavish and magnificent — as befitted the Crown Prince’s full-blooded younger sister. Every gesture, every movement, reflected the Crown Prince’s benevolence and virtue.

Let it be seen how many days she could keep it up with white rice. When she could no longer bear the expense and had to switch back to rough grain, these people whose palates had been spoiled would not remember her fine-rice benevolence — they would only complain about why the standard had been lowered.

After exchanging a few words, Li Shu had no desire to continue chatting with Anle and was about to take her leave when she saw a filthy little child come running over. The child had a large head and a slight body, clad in an adult’s cotton robe, layered patch upon patch, that hung off him loosely.

Anle’s maid swiftly stepped forward to stop the ill-mannered child — he was dirty, and goodness forbid he should soil the princess’s clothing.

The child, blocked from going further, lost his nerve. On the verge of tears, he held up half a sheet of coarse paper in his hands, not knowing quite which of the two of them he meant to give it to. Speaking in the local Guanzhong dialect, he said haltingly, “Th… thank you, Princess, for… for the food.”

Two princesses stood before him, but since Princess Pingyang’s gruel station had no one at it, the maid naturally assumed the child had come to thank Princess Anle.

The maid reached out and took the slip of paper. The child, as if granted a pardon, turned and fled.

The maid glanced at the paper, then suddenly smiled, and presented it to Anle. “Your Highness, this is one of the refugees who ate the gruel and came specially to thank you. The little child cannot write, so he has drawn you a small flower to express his gratitude. The poor little dear — quite endearing, isn’t he.”

Anle found it charming as well. She had never interacted with a common child before. She reached out to take the coarse paper — but just then, Li Shu beside her snatched it away without warning.

Anle turned to look and saw that Li Shu’s lips were pressed firmly together.

Within Li Shu’s heart, waves crashed and surged — yet she dared not let even a fraction of it show. Her slender fingers gripped the corner of the coarse paper tightly.

The paper was coarse and yellowed; holding it, she felt only roughness beneath her fingertips. It was the kind ordinary folk in the countryside made casually from hemp scraps — not suited for writing. The paper bore no words whatsoever. Only in one corner, using a charred stick of wood as ink, someone had sketched a single flower with a casual hand.

He had returned!