Li Shu’s hand gripped the coarse paper so tightly her fingernails had punctured through it.

She did not know how she managed to suppress the ten thousand surging emotions inside her. Not a flicker of them showed on her face.

Li Shu smiled at Anle. “I have been open a few days longer than you, and yet not a single person has come to thank me — and now I find my good reputation has landed on your shoulders instead.”

Anle still thought Li Shu’s strange behaviour was simply jealousy. She swept a glance at Li Shu’s deserted, lonely gruel station and offered advice from experience: “You ought not to be stingy with money. Remember to use good rice when providing disaster relief.”

Li Shu’s gaze was not on Anle at all. She gave an absent nod, not knowing whether the words had truly registered. “You are right.”

And with that, she made to move on.

“Where are you going?”

Anle hurried after Li Shu. She needed to watch Li Shu’s every movement at all times.

Li Shu stopped walking. She knew that Anle was trying to keep watch over her.

She glanced at Anle’s finely dressed and lavishly adorned appearance, then said, “No particular purpose. I simply noticed that a great cluster of refugees has gathered over that way, and I wished to go and take a look.”

Anle followed her gaze and looked into the distance. Near the base of the city wall was a vast spread of makeshift straw shelters, with an indeterminate mass of refugees packed inside them. Seen from afar, it was a grimy, squalid sight — the muddy water from the melted snow had stained the entire area a shade of filthy black.

Anle wrinkled her nose with considerable delicacy. “What do we want to go there for? It is not early anymore — why don’t we head back into the city together?”

Li Shu refused, swift and decisive. “No. There are many refugees this year, and I do not know if the gruel stations that have been put out are enough. I still want to go and take a proper look in person. If there is any disaster relief that is falling short, I might as well do what little I can — otherwise all those people will only be thanking you and not me.”

As she spoke, Li Shu reached out as though to take Anle’s arm. “Come with me. Did you not say you wanted to look after the refugees through the winter?”

Li Shu’s forceful approach gave her no choice — she practically dragged Anle along with her for several steps. Anle hurriedly pushed Li Shu off and stepped back. “You… you go yourself. I will not go.”

She had been coddled her whole life; she had absolutely no desire to venture into a chaotic, filthy place like that.

As for the snow-white fox fur on her person — the moment a single drop of muddy water splashed onto it, it would be completely ruined.

Watching Anle’s retreating figure hurrying away, Li Shu curved her lips into a smile, then turned and walked toward the place where the refugees were clustered.

Hadn’t that little child just now run in this direction?

Li Shu made her way along the base of the wall.

There were too many refugees, and many of them, having received their bowl of gruel and eaten their fill, were now gathered in the dry patches of ground along the base of the wall, sitting sprawled in every direction, soaking up the thin winter sunshine.

Some snored thunderously, some huddled together swapping tall tales, some sat face to face picking lice off each other’s bodies.

A good many children, having eaten their fill, were running about playing. Some babies lay cradled in women’s arms, shrieking and crying at the top of their lungs.

Every face was dirty and unkempt; it was impossible to make out what any of them truly looked like.

A name hovered at the edge of Li Shu’s lips, again and again threatening to be called out — yet she forced it back down every time.

She could only let her gaze move from one person to the next.

Not this one. Not that one either.

Hong Luo’s forearm was pinched raw by Li Shu’s grip. The ground here was uneven and treacherous, and Li Shu had nearly stumbled several times — it was only Hong Luo catching her that kept her upright.

“Your Highness,” Hong Luo asked, “what is the matter?”

Why had she suddenly come to the refugee clusters?

These refugees, upon seeing a princess of the current dynasty, had their eyes glued to Li Shu — all of them staring. Some of the more shameless ones let their gazes roam freely over her.

Li Shu had only brought a dozen or so guards with her. If trouble truly broke out, two fists could not hold off four hands.

Even Hong Luo had been so unnerved by the refugees’ staring that she tugged at Li Shu and pleaded, “Your Highness, let us go back.”

But Li Shu flung Hong Luo’s hand aside and stumbled forward on her own, her eyes wide and unblinking, held open for what felt like a very long time. The glare of the snow-lit ground made her eyes ache painfully, and yet she still did not dare to blink — afraid that in the instant she closed her eyes, she might miss him.

“Shen Xiao…”

At last, a name passed through her lips in a low murmur. “Shen Xiao.”

She did not dare speak loudly, fearing others might hear; yet she could not bring herself to call him only in silence, afraid that he would not be able to hear her.

Thousands upon thousands of faces passed before her one by one. None of them were his.

There were countless people in the world — yet not one of them was him.

Had she been wrong? The coarse paper bore nothing but a child’s idle doodle, devoid of any hidden meaning. Had she fallen prey to obsession? To actually believe he could have climbed out of the icy, bone-piercing waters of the Yellow River.

Li Shu only felt her heart growing heavier and heavier. She did not know how long she had walked. As she went further on, even the refugees grew sparse, and the sky began to darken, a bone-cutting chill rising up from the ground.

Distracted, she failed to watch her footing and stepped into a patch of muddy slush. She stumbled and dropped to her knees, her jade-red skirt with its floral pattern instantly ruined by the muddy water, its original colour no longer discernible.

It seemed she truly had fallen prey to obsession. So Li Shu thought.

The official report had stated clearly, in black ink on white paper, that Shen Xiao, magistrate of Jingren County, had died in the line of duty. One stroke of the brush had divided the living from the dead; there could never again be any chance of meeting.

Hong Luo rushed over and helped Li Shu to her feet. Li Shu seemed to have lost the very core of her strength; her entire weight pressed against Hong Luo.

Mistress and maid, stumbling forward, had barely managed a few steps when they heard someone cough behind them. A half-hoarse voice drifted over — the refined, standard speech tinged with a trace of a southern accent that refused to be entirely shed.

He said, “Your Highness, your jade hairpin has fallen.”

Li Shu whipped around.

*

Late in the night, Princess Pingyang’s Mansion.

When Shen Xiao opened his eyes, for a moment he felt a sense of dislocation, a strange feeling of not knowing what time or day it was.

He lay looking up at the finely patterned bed canopy overhead, feeling the exceptionally soft mattress beneath him, before slowly beginning to piece together his memory.

Outside the city, Li Shu had spun around abruptly and fixed her gaze on him — as though unable to believe what she saw, yet also as though overwhelmed by a tangle of grief and joy. Her eyes had gone crimson in an instant. She stared at him for a long while, yet shed not a single tear, and did not speak a single word.

That had been Shen Xiao’s last impression of her. He had held himself together by sheer will, for the sole purpose of seeing her once more. Now that this wish had been granted, he could finally allow himself to collapse without reserve.

He had truly been at his limit.

Falling into the river in the deep of winter — he had been fortunate not to die, but half his vitality had already drained away. Throughout it all, he had kept himself buried among the refugees, doing his utmost to gather evidence of the displaced people’s uprising in Luo Commandery. He had never properly sought treatment for his illness. And then the long, arduous journey from Luo Commandery back to Chang’an had been another trial in itself.

He had always been on the lean side, and after all of this, he was thinner still — the whole of him pared down to the leanness of a blade.

After sleeping properly for a good while — during which his pulse had likely been checked and medicine administered while he slept — he felt his energy had recovered a little. He pushed himself upright and scanned the room; Li Shu was nowhere to be seen.

The room was furnished in deeply luxurious fashion. A single floor lamp burned in the corner, its mellow light falling over the silent maids standing motionless about the room. Not far from the bed, a folding screen stood decorated with a design of a hundred birds facing the phoenix, and from it hung a cape embroidered with a hundred flowers.

This was Li Shu’s bedchamber — Shen Xiao was certain of it.

A maid moved silently to bring him a bowl of ginseng broth, intending to attend to him, but Shen Xiao waved it aside and asked, “Where is Li Shu?”

The maid showed no surprise at his addressing Li Shu by name directly — she had evidently received prior instructions to “take good care of” him. She replied, “Her Highness has some affairs to attend to in the study. If you wish to see her, this servant will send someone to summon Her Highness at once.”

Shen Xiao shook his head. “There is no need. I will go to her.”

****

“The disaster-stricken people in Luo Commandery had barely been in open revolt for two days when we found Senior Official Shen downstream of the Yellow River’s Luo Commandery stretch. But at the time, the senior official had fallen into the river and his wind-cold ailment was extremely serious; and besides, Luo Commandery itself was in turmoil and chaos — news could not easily get out.”

Two guards stood side by side in the study — the same ones Li Shu had originally sent to Luo Commandery to watch over Shen Xiao. They had disguised themselves as refugees, their hair and clothes in disarray; the warmth of the room had drawn out a smell from them that defied description, and it was clear they had not bathed in many days.

The two guards had left as tall, muscular men with powerful builds. After their journey through Luo Commandery, they had grown visibly thinner — testament enough to the hardships they had endured.

“Later, when the senior official’s condition had improved somewhat, we were ready to suggest taking him back to the capital. But the senior official refused. He disguised himself as a refugee and mingled among the displaced people, and over the course of more than a month, he gathered a great deal of evidence about the forces behind the displaced people’s rebellion. In particular, that man who had been stirring the refugees up on the riverbank embankment, inciting them to revolt — we captured him.”

“Some time ago, when the princess sent someone to Luo Commandery, we made contact with him. It was then that we learned everything had already changed completely in Chang’an. Only at that point did we set out to return to the capital. The senior official was cautious and feared drawing attention to himself; he followed the refugees the entire way, so the journey was slow. We did not anticipate that when we arrived outside the city, refugees were not being permitted to enter this year. We were blocked outside the walls. If the princess had not happened to visit the gruel station today, I fear there might have been yet another delay of a few days.”

Li Shu listened to the account, then nodded slowly. “You have worked hard, the two of you. What evidence did you manage to gather?”

A guard said, “The root cause of the disaster-stricken people’s uprising in Luo Commandery was that the grain supplied for the work-for-relief program had turned mouldy. When it was later investigated, it emerged that someone had deliberately poisoned it—”

Just as he was speaking, the study door moved and a maid pushed it open to report, “Your Highness, Senior Official Shen has woken.”

Before Li Shu could say anything, the guard had already caught the hint and spoke up obligingly: “The specific evidence of the rebellion is all with the senior official. Since the senior official is awake, if Your Highness goes to him, you will be able to learn the details more clearly.”

Li Shu was quietly thinking something over. She gave a soft nod. In the candlelight, it fell half across her face; she raised her hand and said, “You may all go and rest for now.”

Leaving the study, a maid walked ahead holding a lantern, while snowflakes drifted down in flurries, causing the flame inside the lantern to jump and flicker — just like Li Shu’s heart in that moment.

She did not know how to face Shen Xiao.

The initial tangle of grief and joy, the near-disbelief — all of it had receded. Weeping before him would be foolish; smiling as though nothing had happened would be heartless. She did not know what expression she ought to put on her face.

Moreover, at the bottom of her heart lay a deep, quiet anxiety.

“I thought you were different from the rest of them.” Those had been Shen Xiao’s words before he left the capital.

He had been thoroughly disappointed in her long ago, had he not? If it were not for her, how could he have fallen to such a state.

To want what one cannot have — and then to fear losing it once it is obtained.

Li Shu’s heart was full of nothing but unease and trepidation.

If he treated her with cold indifference — the same cold indifference she had once shown him — what would she do?

If he felt nothing for her anymore, not even a trace of feeling, what would she do?

The maid ahead suddenly heard the footsteps behind her stop. She turned around to see the princess standing with her face cast downward, looking at the snow on the ground, her expression carrying a quality of childlike timidity that had never once appeared on the princess’s face before.

This was an emotion that had never, in all the maid’s memory, appeared on the princess’s face.

A single lantern could illuminate only a small circle of ground at her feet; all around her was the thick, deep darkness of the night, as though it meant to swallow her whole. Then, along the covered corridor, another circle of light came drifting toward her.

Breaking through the dense dark of the night, he seemed to be surrounded by light on all sides. He had just risen and had not yet arranged his hair into a topknot — it fell loosely about him, stirring faintly as he walked. He wore a great cloak about his shoulders, his manner easy and unhurried.

In the fathomless dark of the night, he appeared as a sudden beam of light, cutting through layers of mist, scattering the deep, deep darkness.

He walked over to Li Shu and extended his hand toward her.

“I have come to take you home.”