The vessel was black on the outside, yet its cabin within was lavishly appointed — purple silk drapes, carved tables and chairs, thick red carpet covering the floor, paintings of landscapes and poetry hung on the walls. Most conspicuous of all was the person reclining against the soft couch by the window, for with him present, all that opulence transformed into something refined and noble.

Feng Xi sat upon the soft couch, with Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan standing in attendance at his side, and a man kneeling on the floor, head bowed and eyes lowered. In the dim light of the cabin his face was difficult to make out — he seemed merely a blurred shadow, impossible to read clearly, though one had the sense that he was not particularly old.

Only after finishing a cup of tea did Feng Xi speak, with unhurried ease. “What is it?”

The kneeling man answered: “There are now leads on the matter the young master assigned. Young Master Yun asks whether to act directly.”

“Oh.”

Feng Xi replaced the lid on his cup. Zhong Li stepped forward, took it, and set it aside on the small stand nearby.

“What has been discovered?”

“At present we have only traced their movements — their purpose has not yet been determined.”

“Is that so?” Feng Xi considered for a moment. “There is no need to act for now. Simply follow them.”

“Yes.”

“Also — regarding the matter of the Xuanzun Token, tell him not to concern himself with it for the time being. I have my own arrangements.”

“Yes.”

“You may go.” Feng Xi waved his hand.

“This subordinate takes his leave.”

After the man withdrew, the cabin fell into complete stillness. Feng Xi’s gaze settled on some point in the distance, as though deep in thought. After a long while, he turned his head to address Zhong Li.

“Has Miss Feng been settled comfortably?”

“In reply to young master — Zhong Yuan has settled Miss Feng in the side cabin.” Zhong Li answered.

“Mm.” Feng Xi nodded, leaned back against the soft couch, and tilted his head slightly to look out beyond the cabin. Dusk had deepened into dark.

The door was gently pushed open. Zhong Yuan entered, cradling a dark jade box in both hands, walked to the center of the room, and placed it on the table. He opened the lid — and in an instant the room blazed with radiance, driving away the dimness throughout. Inside the box rested a night-luminous pearl the size of an infant’s fist.

Zhong Li lifted a palace lantern from the cabin wall, placed the pearl inside, and hung it from the ceiling. The cabin was immediately lit bright as day.

“Too bright.” Feng Xi turned to glance at the lantern, then raised a hand to his brow, five fingers slightly spread, shielding his eyes — and with them, the inexplicably darkened expression that had settled there.

Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan could not help but exchange a look. Since they had entered the young master’s service, they had long known that he detested the murky gloom of oil lamps or candles, and always used luminous pearls for light whether at home or away — why then did he today say it was too bright?

“Light one lamp, and then both of you withdraw.” Feng Xi lowered the hand from his brow, eyes half-closed, and gave the order in a calm and even tone.

“Yes.” Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan replied.

One removed the pearl lantern; the other lit an oil lamp. Then they withdrew, drawing the door softly shut behind them.

When the light footsteps had faded into the distance, the cabin was left with a single flame like a tiny bean, accompanied by the faint sound of water against the hull.

On the soft couch, Feng Xi lay quietly on his back, eyes barely closed, his expression composed — seeming to be deep in meditation, or perhaps already asleep.

Time slipped by in silence. Only the faint river wind occasionally brushed past the dim oil lamp, sending the light and shadow leaping — and yet it too was hushed, as though afraid to startle the man reclining on the couch who was only pretending to sleep.

An unknowable time passed. Feng Xi opened his eyes. His gaze moved to the ink-black surface of the river, where the lights along the bank occasionally flashed past, falling into those eyes that were dark as a bottomless abyss — and made them blaze like luminous pearls, gleaming with a cold and distant light.

“The Xuanzun Token.” He uttered the three words slowly, and a cold flash passed through his eyes. His right hand lifted slightly; he looked at his palm, and slowly curled the fingers inward. A sigh, barely audible. “Bai Fengxi…”

—

In the morning, when Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan pushed open the door and entered, they found their young master still reclining sideways on the soft couch, his clothes and cap just as they had been the night before. A glance at the bed that had been laid out the previous evening confirmed it had not been touched at all.

“Young master.” Zhong Li called softly.

“Mm.” Feng Xi replied and rose, stretching his somewhat stiffened limbs in a languid way, his expression as composed as always, showing not a trace of fatigue.

Zhong Yuan hurried forward to attend to him — rinsing his mouth, washing his face, combing his hair, changing his clothes. By the time all was ready, Zhong Li had already laid out breakfast on the table: a cup of clear water, a bowl of congee, a plate of crystal dumplings. Quality over quantity.

That cup of clear water was drawn from the Qingtai Spring of Fengguo — known throughout the world as the finest spring in existence. The congee was made from Fengguo’s celebrated millet “Pearl Fragrance,” cooked slow with bird’s nest, silver fungus, and white lotus. The crystal dumplings were filled with the tender cabbage hearts of Huaguo — prized as “white jade slices.” Feng Xi preferred vegetable dishes and had no fondness for meat.

Feng Xi first drank the cup of water, then took a sip of the congee, then reached out to pick up a dumpling with his chopsticks — only to set them down before the dumpling reached his lips. In the end, he finished only the bowl of congee.

“When steamed too long, the cabbage heart loses its life. Remember the heat next time.” He glanced at the plate of crystal dumplings and said.

“Yes.” Zhong Li cleared away the bowls and dishes.

Feng Xi rose and walked to the writing table, took up brush and ink, spread out a sheet of white paper, and wrote with flowing strokes from start to finish without pause. In a short while, two letters were complete.

“Zhong Yuan, have these two letters delivered separately.” He sealed the letters and handed them to Zhong Yuan.

“Yes, young master.” Zhong Yuan took the letters, opened the door, and left — and at that moment Zhong Li was just coming in carrying a cup of tea.

Feng Xi took the tea, drank a sip, then set it down and looked up to give instructions. “Zhong Li, make preparations — tomorrow morning, have the vessel put ashore. We will continue by land, heading directly to Huaguo.”

“Yes, young master.” Zhong Li bowed his head to comply, then seemed to think of something and raised his eyes toward Feng Xi. “Young master, did you not make an arrangement to meet Miss Xi in Huangguo?”

At this, Feng Xi smiled — with a slight edge of mockery. “When that woman agrees to something with another person, she will see it through without fail. But with me, she would take the greatest pleasure in not following through — and besides, did you hear her give any such promise that day?”

Zhong Li thought it over carefully, and shook his head. Indeed, he had not heard Fengxi make any promise in so many words.

“So then — we go to Huaguo.” Feng Xi picked up his tea cup, lifted the lid, and a curl of steam rose and drifted across his face, making his eyes hazy as mist in that moment. “That woman actually allowed the Xuanzun Token to fall into the Shizi of Huangguo’s hands! That woman is truly…”

The words that followed were never spoken, and the tone that accompanied them was an exasperation impossible to pin down.

“Then why are we going to Huaguo, young master? We have been away for so long — why not go home?” Zhong Li frowned as he asked. He was only fifteen years old, and though he had followed the young master since the age of seven and had long grown accustomed to a wandering life, they had been away from home so long that he truly missed his mother.

“There are many reasons to go to Huaguo.” Feng Xi’s face, shrouded behind the rising mist, was like an ink-wash landscape, occasionally catching a glint of morning light. He set down his cup and stood up, then patted Zhong Li on the head. “Zhong Li — we will go home. Soon.”

“Mm.” Zhong Li gave a reassured nod. “Young master, I’ll go and see to things.”

After Zhong Li withdrew, Feng Xi was left alone in the cabin. He walked to the window and stood facing the morning sun, narrowing his eyes slightly to watch the birds sweeping across the river. He murmured quietly to himself: “Huaguo…”

—

In the side cabin, Feng Qiwu woke to find a young girl of fourteen or fifteen standing beside the bed. Her hair was done in two buns; on her simple face were set two small dimples, and the large eyes shone with a sweet, sunny smile that put anyone who saw it instantly at ease.

“Miss Feng, you’re awake. This servant is called Xiao’er — young master has given instructions for me to attend to you from now on.” Xiao’er said brightly.

Feng Qiwu gave a faint nod and sat up.

“Is the young lady getting up? Xiao’er will help you.” Xiao’er spoke as she moved, helping Feng Qiwu dress, wash, and arrange her appearance.

Throughout all of this, Feng Qiwu did not say a single word — only silently and coolly cooperating with Xiao’er.

“The young lady is so beautiful.”

When the grooming was done and Xiao’er looked at the lovely, flower-like face in the bronze mirror, she could not help but offer the compliment.

The corner of Feng Qiwu’s lips curved faintly — that was her response to the praise.

“I’ll go and fetch the young lady’s breakfast.” Xiao’er opened the door and left.

Feng Qiwu stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open. The morning sun was blinding, and she could not help but narrow her eyes. She turned to look around the cabin — every item within it clearly bespoke great value, yet none of it was gaudy or vulgar. Each object was matched and placed with appropriateness; taken together, the room carried a natural nobility and elegance. Even at the height of her family’s prosperity, they had not lived in such luxury.

This vessel was very large, yet the number of people aboard seemed few. Apart from the servants, she had not seen anyone else — yet instinct told her there were far more people on this ship than met the eye. Where were they? And where was he?

“Miss Feng, breakfast is ready.” Xiao’er was back.

Feng Qiwu drew near the table and sat down, eating her breakfast in silence, with Xiao’er beside her offering soup and a towel.

Xiao’er paid no mind to Feng Qiwu’s silence, carrying out every task from beginning to end with the same cheerful smile. When she took the bowls and plates back to the kitchen and returned, she found Feng Qiwu plucking lightly at her pipa.

A few scattered notes — ding, ding, drip — not yet forming a melody. Feng Qiwu’s gaze was tangled about her fingertips; her fingertips were tangled about the strings; the strings were tangled about…

“Has Miss Feng risen?” The elegant and unhurried voice of Feng Xi sounded suddenly.

Feng Qiwu gave a slight start and looked up, glancing around — but there was no one to be seen.

“Young master is in the main cabin.” Xiao’er spoke up from beside her to explain.

“Would you care to come and talk for a while?” Feng Xi’s voice sounded again, clear enough that it was as though he were right there before her.

Feng Qiwu cradled her pipa and rose. Xiao’er opened the door and led her to the main cabin.

She pushed open the door. The first thing that met her eyes was the figure standing with his back to her, facing the window — tall and upright, the brilliant morning sunlight pouring through the window and settling over him, wrapping him in a thin layer of radiance.

At the sound of the door, he turned slightly. The light around him began to flow. He extended a hand, swept back his sleeve — the sunlight showered down, and the dim room and the shadowed heart were, in that instant, made bright. The sunlight leaped; something within the chest leaped — and then those ink-jade eyes turned toward her, black in a purity so complete, and yet somehow she could see warmth within that black. That tiny thread of warmth was hidden so deeply, so concealed — whether intended or not, who could say. Only… for whom was it hidden?

“Is Miss Feng quite comfortable?” Feng Xi asked with a mild and warm smile, gesturing with a wave of his hand for her to be seated.

“Qiwu has long been accustomed to making do wherever she finds herself.” Feng Qiwu replied with equal calm, walking forward and taking a seat on the soft stool before the couch.

“Feng Qiwu… Qiwu… what a beautiful name!” Feng Xi settled onto the soft couch, his gaze resting on Feng Qiwu with quiet warmth. This woman always carried a pervasive desolate chill about her. “Does Qiwu still have family?”

Upon hearing him murmur “Qiwu” so softly, a flash of light rose in her eyes — warm and gentle, casting brightness over that face of hers, pale as frost and fine as snow, making it vivid and radiant. The four people in the room all caught it, and could not help but marvel inwardly.

“Without home or kin — where is there a parasol tree, and where may one alight?” Her voice was faint and drifting as something borne away on wind. Feng Qiwu’s gaze came to rest on Feng Xi’s eyes, carrying within it something like resolve.

Upon hearing this, Feng Xi looked at her eyes — that gaze made him reach out a hand. His slender fingers brushed aside the hair at Feng Qiwu’s temple, and his fingertip lightly traced the line of her brow and eyes… brows like kingfisher feathers, eyes like stars, skin like congealed fat, lips like flower petals… this face bore not a trace of adornment, and was naturally, innately beautiful — cold and detached, yet carrying its own clear and distinguished quality. This was a rare and exceptional beauty. In ten years upon the jianghu, it had been a very long time since he had encountered someone so clean and unspoiled.

“Why?” Feng Xi murmured the question as though to himself — an aimless question — yet Feng Qiwu understood it clearly.

She allowed his fingertip to lightly graze that face which no other was ever permitted to touch, and felt the faint warmth at the fingertip and the subtle, delicate fragrance — as refined as a hidden orchid.

Feng Qiwu gently closed her eyes, and murmured: “Because I wished to.”

Yes — because she wished to. Because her heart wished to.

Feng Xi’s fingertip came to rest beneath her chin and tilted it up slightly, then spoke her name with a sigh: “Qiwu.”

Feng Qiwu opened her eyes. Those eyes were clear as water, without the faintest impurity, without a single trace of hesitation — reflecting the person before her in perfect, vivid clarity.

It was as though for the first time he saw himself so clearly. Those pure, clear eyes reflected back a pair of eyes that were warm — and yet without feeling. The words that had risen to Feng Xi’s lips faltered. His fingertip withdrew; his wrist lowered. He smiled — a smile of elegant serenity. “Qiwu, I will help you find the finest parasol tree.”

Her heart sank — and in that instant came a piercing ache. Why was it not “I will plant a parasol tree for you”?

“Qiwu does not care much for conversation — then sing instead.” Feng Xi leaned back against the soft couch. He was still that Gongzi Feng, noble as a sovereign, the same composed and easy smile that no thousand years could wear away still on his face. “Qiwu’s singing is like the music of heaven — one could never tire of hearing it. I am very fond of it.”

*Very fond, you say? That is well enough then — shall I sing for you a hundred years?*

“Has young master heard ‘Longing for the Emperor’s Country’?” Feng Qiwu asked softly.

“Sing it for me to hear.” Feng Xi closed his eyes, entirely relaxed.

The pipa sounded — rushing as fine rain, soft as whispered words, pouring out its silent confession.

*”On a spring day I walked out to play, apricot blossoms blew over my hair — who is that young man on the path, so full of charm? I would give myself to him and be his for all my life. Even if he should, heartlessly, cast me away — I would feel no shame.”*

A bright, pure singing voice, untouched by even a speck of dust, wound through the room and flew out the window, scattering over the river surface.

The river stretched wide in all directions, the sunlight vivid and clear. Clusters of reeds, a few fishing skiffs, mingled with strains of the fishermen’s rough, hearty songs and a scatter of kingfisher calls — all together they made a painting. Within the bright and luminous painting there curled a wisp of something faint, half-present, half-gone, as though flying away, as though vanishing.

*”I would give myself to him and be his for all my life. Even if he should, heartlessly, cast me away — I would feel no shame.”*

That thread of devotion — unwilling to feel shame even if cast away heartlessly, without resentment, without regret — wound and wound and clung to the heart of the river, and no wind, however fierce, could scatter it away.

—

Tai City, in the south of Nanguo.

The city was situated in the southern part of Nanguo; beyond it lay Er City, which was a border city neighboring Huangguo. Once, past Er City, there had also been Ge City and Yin City — but both had been annexed by Huangguo in the great Battle of Ge City five years ago.

“Finally — we’ve made it to Tai City at last.”

Outside the gates of Tai City, Fengxi looked up at the large characters on the city gate and exhaled with feeling.

“Puer, hurry up — let’s get into the city and eat.” She turned to call back to the pampered young master who was taking three shuffles for every step.

“Do you even have money to eat?” Han Pu clutched his empty stomach and said listlessly.

The two of them were at least clean and tidy at this point — apart from Han Pu’s sallow complexion.

“No.” Fengxi patted her flat pockets and answered without batting an eye.

“If you have no money, how will you eat? You’re not thinking of robbing someone, are you?” Han Pu straightened up and asked. One couldn’t really blame him for the insolent question — after these months of traveling together, he’d come to feel that any abnormal behavior, when it came to Fengxi, was perfectly normal.

“Rob someone?” Fengxi yelped and shook her head vigorously. “How could I — I, the great Bai Fengxi, would never stoop to such a thing!”

“As if you haven’t already! How much of our medicine did you pilfer and practically take by force?” Han Pu curled his lip.

To think how much he had once admired and idolized the two great heroes Baifeng Heixi — yet now, having seen their true nature, he felt that these so-called heroes were sometimes not far removed from brazen scoundrels.

“Hehe, Puer — what I did with your family’s medicine was called an act of charity.” Fengxi gave a hollow laugh. “As for money for today’s meal — I’ll manage it.”

“How?”

“Just follow me.” Fengxi flicked a glance at Han Pu, her smile carrying a distinctly scheming air.

One glance from her eyes, and Han Pu felt a chill on his forehead, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.

“Come on, Puer — why are you just standing there?” Fengxi urged him forward.

Han Pu had no choice but to follow along behind her.

The two turned down two streets, and the road ahead grew lively — pedestrians packed it tightly.

“Here we are.”

He heard Fengxi call out from beside him. He looked up — and there before them was a large character: “Gamble.”

“This isn’t a restaurant — it’s a gambling house!” Han Pu cried out. Though he had spent most of his lessons dodging and escaping whenever the teacher came near, he could still read the four characters “Jiutai Gambling House.”

“I know perfectly well it’s a gambling house.” Fengxi smacked him on the head and pointed at the gambling house’s signboard. “I’ve heard that this ‘Jiutai Gambling House’ is the largest in Tai City and has an excellent reputation — never cheating or bullying its patrons!”

“Are you planning to gamble your way to dinner money?” Han Pu speculated about her intentions. It didn’t take much thought to imagine that a woman known in the martial world as an extraordinary hero would also happen to gamble. After these months together, he had long ceased to be surprised by anything.

“Puer, you’re not stupid!” Fengxi said approvingly.

“If you have no stake money, how do you gamble?” Han Pu asked, not about to be sweet-talked — whenever she praised him, it meant she was plotting something at his expense.

“Who says I have no stake money.” Fengxi said with a smile that crinkled her eyes — an expression that in that moment bore a faint resemblance to Feng Xi’s.

Han Pu looked her up and down, and his gaze finally settled on the snow jade crescent moon ornament at her forehead.

“Surely you’re not going to use the jade moon as your stake? You’d be better off pawning it at a pawnbroker’s for a few silver leaves — at least that’s safe.” Although, the “white garment, snow and moon” was her trademark — what would she do if she lost it? There was surely only one snow jade moon like that in the world. Just as Hei Fengxi had only one dark jade moon.

“This thing…” Fengxi’s fingertip brushed lightly against the jade moon, and a faint regret crossed her face. “This is a family heirloom — it cannot be pawned. Otherwise I’d have traded it for food long ago.”

“Then what are you using as your stake?” Han Pu asked carefully, and took a subtle step three paces away from Fengxi at the same time. Over the course of their journey, everything on his person that could be pawned had already been pawned. The only thing he had kept was the seven-treasure dagger his father had given him — he could absolutely not let her use that as a stake. If he lost it, his father would smack him over the head with it when they met in the underworld.

“Come with me and you’ll find out.” Fengxi’s hand shot out and seized his, then half-dragged, half-pulled him through the doors of the gambling house.

The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by an unpleasant smell and a deafening roar of voices.

“Let’s play the simplest one — big or small.” Fengxi dragged Han Pu through the press of people.

Han Pu had one hand seized by Fengxi and used the free hand to cover his nose and mouth.

Though it was now the end of the tenth month and the weather was quite cold outside, the gambling house was enclosed with only its main entrance open — and with so many people packed inside, the air was foul. He had been pampered and sheltered since childhood, and though these past months with Fengxi had seen him sleeping rough and eating in the open, he had never truly been in such close proximity to people of the lower rungs of society. Now his ears were assaulted by their coarse and vulgar shouts, his eyes met face after face twisted with desire and greed, and his nose was filled with the stench of bodies unwashed for days and months and years — all sour sweat and grime. His stomach heaved, and he desperately wanted to leave at once. But his hand was seized in Fengxi’s grip and he could not move.

Fengxi, meanwhile, dragged him left and right, weaving through the crowd, until at last she squeezed into the inner circle.

“Place your bets! Place your bets! It’s about to open! About to open!” The dealer was still calling out.

“Big!” Fengxi slapped her hand down.

That single, crisp, cool cry startled all the gamblers around her. One by one, their eyes left the gambling table and moved to her.

In that instant, these gamblers — who had long since lost all sense of direction and forgotten the faces of their parents and wives and children — felt as though cool water had been splashed across their faces. One by one they gave a shudder and snapped back to clarity. Pairs of reddened eyes looked at the white-robed, long-haired woman before them — clean and simple as a green lotus rising from the water. That face, clear and removed from all worldly dust, with those eyes bright as cold stars flashing with a teasing, mocking smile — the onlookers felt they might be dreaming. When had this person fallen down from the ninth heaven?

“Hey! I said big! Open it already!” Fengxi waved her hand, and the gust of it snapped the still-dazed dealer back to his senses.

“Oh… immortal… miss… this… this is not a place for the likes of you.” The dealer stuttered and fumbled as he came to his senses.

“Why can’t I be here?” Fengxi waved her hand again, her long finger sweeping toward the people around her. “All of them can be here — of course I can too. Now open it already!”

“Miss, this is not a game for women.” Someone else chimed in with advice from the side.

“Why not?” Fengxi’s eyes slid sideways and landed on that person. One sweep of her gaze, and that person could not help but lower his head. “Which law of Dong Chao says women may not gamble? Or does Nanguo have a law that forbids women from entering gambling houses?”

That… well, there was indeed no written rule to that effect. The crowd thought it over, and realized that from birth to now, this was the first time any of them had ever seen a woman walk into a gambling house and shout her bets at the top of her lungs. Truly, it was a once-in-a-lifetime sight!

“Since there is none, then I can play!” Seeing the crowd speechless, Fengxi pointed at the dealer. “Hey, open it already! I’ve been waiting half the day!”

“Well… miss… what are you staking?” the dealer asked helplessly.

“Just this!” Fengxi replied.

“Miss, the dealer is asking how much you’re staking.” A kind soul nearby pointed out helpfully.

“Oh, that?” Fengxi tilted her head, reached out with her left hand, and pulled Han Pu forward. “Him, of course!”

“Ah!” The entire crowd was once again struck dumb. They had not imagined that her stake would be a living person.

“You—” Han Pu turned his head in shock and fury, just opening his mouth when his voice cut off — his mute acupoint had been sealed.

“Have a look — what’s this child worth?” Fengxi asked the dealer cheerfully.

“Five silver leaves.” The dealer said, eyeing the child’s back — slight and frail-looking, probably not capable of much labor. In this day and age, five silver leaves for a child was already decent.

“Five silver leaves seems a bit low.” Fengxi proceeded to haggle with him, seizing Han Pu by the face and turning it toward the dealer. “Look at this child — fine-looking, isn’t he? Long brows, big eyes, skin smooth as water — even prettier than most girls. If one were to…” Fengxi pressed her voice mysteriously lower. “If he were sold to a wealthy household as a… he’d certainly fetch forty silver leaves. And I won’t ask for forty — let’s say ten silver leaves. What do you think?”

“Well… I… ” The dealer looked at Han Pu’s face — undeniably handsome, though those eyes at this moment were blazing with fury and hatred, making the dealer’s skin crawl. He shifted his gaze away. “Fine. Ten silver leaves, then.”

“Done.” Fengxi gave a nod and urged the dealer on. “Hurry and open — I’m betting big!”

The dealer shook the dice cup, and dozens of pairs of eyes fixed on his hand. At last he brought it down heavily onto the table, and every eye locked onto the cover.

“Open it! Open it!”

“Big! Big! Small! Small!”

The gamblers called out their wishes. The dealer kept them in suspense just long enough, then finally lifted the cover.

“Ha ha — it’s big! I won!” Fengxi laughed without restraint, and reached out to scoop up the winnings without any ceremony.

“Ugh! Rotten luck!”

Some rejoiced while others despaired.

“Again! Again!”

Fengxi called out with excitement — looking every bit the classic picture of a seasoned gambler. If the crowd had thought she carried any trace of otherworldly, transcendent spirit just a moment ago, every last wisp of it had now evaporated entirely.

And so they continued — betting, opening, betting, opening. Whether it was a particular stroke of luck on her part, or whether the dealer was taking special care of her, whatever she called, that was what came up. After several rounds, a pile of silver leaves had accumulated before her.

“What excellent luck today!” Fengxi swept the silver leaves into her pockets, then smiled warmly. “My apologies — I have something to attend to, so I’ll take my leave first.”

“You… you’re just going?” The dealer could not help but call out after her. She’d won all this money and was simply leaving?

“Yes — I’m quite hungry and going to eat. I’ll come and play again another day.” Fengxi turned back with a smile — a smile so radiant, her brows and eyes blooming like flowers. The crowd was dazzled, momentarily losing all sense of time and place, and in that hazy bewilderment, she had already taken Han Pu by the hand and walked away.

Once they were back on the main street, Fengxi finally released the acupoint she had sealed on Han Pu.

“You — you actually used me as your stake! You were actually going to sell me!” The moment the restriction was lifted, Han Pu shrieked in fury, completely heedless of the crowd of passersby around them.

“Shh!” Fengxi touched a fingertip to her lips, her gaze watching Han Pu with an expression somewhere between a smile and not. “Puer, do you want to have your acupoint sealed again?”

The threat worked. Han Pu did not dare shout again — but with a belly full of fury and nowhere to put it, he trembled all over with rage, his eyes brimming with tears. Still not resigned, he made his accusations in an aggrieved voice: “And to think I trusted you so much — I treated you like a real sister — and you used me as your gambling stake, and were even going to sell me to a rich household!”

“Puer, it was simply a practical measure — don’t take it to heart.” Fengxi gave him a pat on the head, in the manner of someone patting a disobedient little dog.

“What would you have done if you’d lost? Would you really have sold me?” Han Pu, of course, didn’t really believe it.

“Of course not!” Fengxi refuted the idea in no uncertain terms.

“Hmph! At least you have some conscience.” Han Pu huffed.

But the words that followed — those were something else entirely.

“Puer, you really don’t understand your sister at all.” Fengxi said, stepping back and shaking her head with self-satisfied authority. “I have roamed the gambling world for nearly ten years — when have I ever lost? With my skill, I naturally make big come up when I want big and small come up when I want small. There is absolutely no possibility of losing!” Her tone carried considerable pride.

“You—” Han Pu stared, stricken speechless with outrage. Finally he tossed his head, turned on his heel, and walked away — and as he walked he declared in a fury: “I’m not following you anymore! I’m not calling you Sister anymore! I’m never speaking to you again!”

“Puer! Puer!” Fengxi saw that he was genuinely angry this time, and hurried to pull him back, softening her voice to soothe him. “Puer, don’t worry — Sister would absolutely never lose you. That was only a joke. I truly wouldn’t lose! And even if I really did lose, I would get you back by force! You should know that with my martial arts, not even that black fox could take you from me!”

“Hmph!” Han Pu was pulled back but turned his face away, refusing to look at her.

“Good Puer — Sister promises you, she will never use you as a stake again!” Fengxi was left with no choice but to offer soft words of comfort.

“You said it yourself, so you have to mean it! You’re never allowed to gamble me again!”

“Yes! I mean it!”

“From now on, no matter what, you are not allowed to use me as a stake! You are not allowed to sell me! You are not allowed to get sick of me! And you are not allowed to… not allowed to abandon me!”

By the last words, he had begun to stammer and choke. His eyes reddened, and tears began to fall without restraint. A terror seized him — the fear of truly being cast away, the fear of being alone again. Like that night when flames engulfed everything, and no matter how he cried until his throat was raw, there was no one who answered.

“All right, all right — I promise all of it!” Fengxi saw his tears, and could not help but sigh. She drew him into her arms, the teasing in her heart gone entirely.

After all, he was only a child. A child who by rights should still be curled against his parents, acting spoiled and playing the fool — only he would never have that chance again. The years ahead would be the wind and rain of the jianghu, with the jianghu to see him through to the end of his days. And perhaps she was the only piece of driftwood he had managed to grab hold of. When even the driftwood threatened to let him go, the panic it caused was more than this child — whose home and family had already been destroyed — could bear.

“Puer, Sister will not leave you. Sister will take care of you — until one day when you can fly on your own.” And so the promise came out of her, almost without her noticing.

“You promised — you are absolutely not allowed to go back on it!” Both arms tightened around her, terrified that this warm embrace would suddenly disappear.

“Mm!”

On the busy street, passersby after passerby looked over with surprise at the large figure and the small one — yet the way those two leaned against each other made anyone who saw them feel a quiet ache in the heart, and they would look away, unable to bear watching.

Those two, side by side, were like two lone geese who had lost their flock and flown ten thousand li through solitude before at last finding each other — something one could not bear to disturb.

“All right — let’s go eat first.” Fengxi released Han Pu and wiped the tears from his face. “Crying at your age — the first time I ever went out alone, even I didn’t cry. It was my father who cried.”

“Mm.” Han Pu helped himself wipe away the traces of tears on his face with his sleeve, unable to meet her eyes.

The two were just about to look for a restaurant to have their meal when a large crowd of people came toward them head-on. Old and young, large and small — some driving ox carts, some carrying loads on shoulder poles, some with bundles large and small tied to their backs. All had sallow faces and travel-worn expressions. The pedestrians on the street gave way one by one, and the two of them were pushed to the side as well, watching this crowd pass through the street toward the south gate of Tai City.

“Sigh — more refugees.” Someone nearby lamented.

“Elder, where have these people come from? Where are they headed?” Fengxi asked an old man standing at the roadside.

“You probably haven’t been in the city for a while, miss?” The old man studied Fengxi with some surprise at her remarkable bearing. “This is already the third or fourth such group. They’re all coming from the direction of Yi City and Jian City — the King has sent Grand General Tuoba Hong to attack Baiguo again. These are all the refugees fleeing from that area.”

“Attacking Baiguo? When did this happen?” Fengxi was involuntarily startled. She thought of how these past days she had been taking mountain roads with Han Pu, never going through a city — and had missed even such important news as this.

“It’s been about a month now.” The old man said with a sigh. “All for the sake of the Xuanzun Token — and who knows how many more lives it will cost!”

“The Xuanzun Token? The Southern King sent troops to attack Baiguo because the Xuanzun Token appeared there?” A cold glint flashed in Fengxi’s eyes.

“That’s right.” The old man’s eyes — eyes that had witnessed the full weight of the ages — shone with a deep and quiet sorrow. “When the Xuanzun Token appears, the Xuanmo Token must submit! The number of people who have already died for its sake — no one can count them.”

“In truth, it’s nothing more than a pretext.” Fengxi murmured to herself with a sigh.

The Xuanzun Token had appeared in Baiguo, and then vanished without a trace. Aside from herself, probably no one knew the token had already fallen into the hands of the Shizi of Huangguo — everyone else assumed the Baiguo King had obtained it. And the Southern King’s attack on Baiguo was using the token as nothing more than an excuse — the real purpose was to seize a city or two in the chaos.

“But if they’ve reached this city, they should be safe already — so why do these people keep walking?” Han Pu voiced the question that puzzled him.

If they were fleeing from disaster, Tai City was already several cities removed from Yi City and Jian City, far from the fighting — yet he could not understand why those people were pressing on further, for the next stop was Er City, and that was a border town.

“They’re probably trying to reach Huangguo.” The old man looked toward the end of the street, where the south gate stood — through which the main road to Er City ran. “The war between Baiguo and Nanguo shows no sign of ending, and neither side has the upper hand. Every time they fight, neither gains an advantage over the other. The people sitting on the thrones don’t care, but it’s the common people who suffer — no stability, no certainty for their lives and homes. Huangguo is the strongest of the six kingdoms and has rarely seen war, and it makes proper arrangements for all refugees from other kingdoms who come seeking shelter. For these people, Huangguo is nothing short of paradise.”

“Then why don’t they go to Fengguo, or Huaguo, or Fengguo?” Han Pu asked. “Isn’t Huaguo the wealthiest of the six kingdoms?”

“Ha — young brother, Huaguo is far too distant.” The old man looked at Han Pu with a kindly smile. “Fengguo and Huaguo are truly too far away for refugees from Nanguo. And when there is a Huangguo that rivals both of them right there before them, of course they would not pass over the nearer for the farther. As for Baiguo’s refugees — they’ve probably all gone to Fengguo.”

“I see.” Han Pu nodded, then turned to look at Fengxi — and found her gaze fixed on a single point somewhere in the crowd ahead.

It was a little girl of six or seven among the refugees. She appeared to be desperately hungry and was pointing at a sesame cake stall by the roadside, crying with all her might. Her exhausted and haggard mother tried in every way to comfort her, but the child only wept on and on. At last the mother had no choice but to approach the stall owner and beg — only to be shoved away with one hand, and she fell to the ground.

The old man’s gaze also fell on that scene. He could only sigh deeply. “There are people like this every day. If old Hao kept giving things away, he’d have nothing left to eat himself. Ah — in truth, common people only want a meal. They don’t care whether the Xuanzun Token or the Xuanmo Token sits supreme.”

Fengxi walked over, helped the woman up from the ground, reached into her bag, and pulled out a silver leaf, pressing it into the woman’s hand.

“Thank you, miss! Thank you so much!” The woman, upon seeing such a large silver leaf, could scarcely believe she had encountered a deity, and gave thanks without stopping.

Fengxi shook her head and smiled faintly — yet somehow she could not make that smile radiant. She turned back and took Han Pu by the hand. “Puer, let’s go eat.”

She lifted her eyes to the sky. It was still that same blue. The sunlight was still just as bright.

“It really is such a simple thing — common people only want enough to eat… only a full meal. That’s all.”

A murmured sigh — carrying wistfulness, and within it a quiet understanding.