This winter, three major events spread throughout the imperial capital:

The Crown Prince seeking a consort, the Scripture Saint accepting disciples, and the northern border conflict.

Each event captivated the citizens of Great Qin.

The noble families of the imperial capital focused on the Crown Prince’s consort selection, while students of various martial academies paid attention to the Scripture Saint’s disciple recruitment. Soldiers and cultivators concerned themselves with the situation at the northern border.

The Scripture Saint happened to be connected to all three major events, traveling daily between the imperial palace’s council hall and the Listening Rain Pavilion of the Martial Supervision Alliance. He was busy from dawn till dusk, with hardly any time to rest.

As the weather turned cold, Emperor Wen Xiu’s health deteriorated further. He suffered from an incurable ailment, with little time left.

Perhaps knowing his days were numbered, Emperor Wen Xiu’s thoughts became increasingly difficult to discern.

The emaciated Emperor Wen Xiu wore a thick fox fur coat, sitting beside a heated kang bed. The window facing him was open, revealing heavy snow falling onto red plum branches in the courtyard.

Inside the chamber were ministers discussing these three significant matters with him. The Scripture Saint stood in the most prominent position beside the heated kang, even closer to Emperor Wen Xiu than the attending servants.

The Director of the Star Fate Department stepped forward and said, “Your Majesty, the selection portraits have been sent to the Eastern Palace, but His Highness the Crown Prince has not chosen anyone.”

Upon hearing this, the Scripture Saint turned to look at Emperor Wen Xiu sitting by the window.

The Emperor leaned toward the window with his back to everyone, resting his chin on one hand as he watched the falling snow and sighed, “These people… have no ambition, don’t know how to take initiative.”

The Director of the Star Fate Department and other ministers maintained expressionless faces, pretending not to hear.

Emperor Wen Xiu spoke in a gentle tone, “Since he doesn’t like this batch, then continue bringing more. Tell the other ministers and noble families to be more proactive. Don’t come crying when I have to arrange marriages myself.”

Though his tone was mild, it befitted his supreme imperial status, each word carrying an undeniable command.

The Star Fate Director bowed his head in acknowledgment: “Yes.”

He bowed and retreated from the council hall. Attendants waiting outside raised umbrellas to shield him from the wind and snow. As he walked back, the Star Fate Director couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: Who wouldn’t covet the position of Crown Princess? Everyone at court knew His Majesty had little time left, and the Crown Princess would soon become Empress, the future mother of the nation.

But the current Crown Prince was intellectually deficient. Already twenty-two years old, he had the mental capacity of a five or six-year-old child. Could he maintain a stable hold on the throne?

Forget the throne—even his current position as Crown Prince was precarious.

His Majesty’s urgency to select a Crown Princess showed his great determination to protect the Crown Prince. Now he was waiting for several ministers who had not yet submitted portrait albums to make their positions clear.

The Star Fate Director flipped through his record book, scanning:

None of the Three Armies and Six Ministries had submitted portrait albums to the Eastern Palace yet.

General Ding Yuan, Viscount Yu Zhenguo, had not responded either.

The Duan family had only submitted one album for a girl from an outside family.

Teng Prefecture’s Wen Clan, Yan Tower’s Dong Ye… Upon seeing these two families, the Star Fate Director slowed his pace and eventually stopped to stare at these entries for a long while.

The Dong Ye Clan of Yan Tower had once been a powerful and prestigious family in Great Qin, but gradually declined and disappeared from the imperial capital. With few clan members remaining, they had been forgotten by the world for hundreds of years.

The Dong Ye Clan reappeared in public view several decades ago when a young man named Dong Yeshou burst into the imperial capital’s martial academy and challenged the Pilgrim Saint who guarded the capital at that time. Although he was defeated, the Pilgrim Saint self-deprecatingly remarked that he hadn’t won either, and sighed that the younger generation was truly formidable.

People were convinced that this seventeen-year-old youth would eventually break through to become a Pilgrim Saint.

At that time, the capital’s nobility all sought to meet and speak with this young man. For him, wealth and glory were within easy reach, but the youth left the capital the next day and became the current headmaster of North Dipper’s Brilliant Light Academy. In all these years, he had not set foot in the imperial capital again.

Now, only his family remained of Yan Tower’s Dong Ye Clan. Although Dong Ye was still recorded in the noble family register, no one dared ask Dong Yeshou to submit his daughter’s portrait album to the Eastern Palace.

Never mind whether Dong Yeshou would even respond—his wife was the North Dipper’s resurrected Pilgrim Saint. Even if she hadn’t broken through the boundary yet, it was only a matter of time before she would break through again.

Not to mention that she recently eliminated nearly half the cultivators in the west, crippled Tai Yi, and forced the eight major merchant associations to reshuffle. The Pilgrim Saint’s pressure and the large-scale Yin-Yang curse felt that night on Tai Yi Mountain remained unsolved. No one dared to court trouble at this time.

The Yan Tower Dong Ye Clan was out of the question.

The Star Fate Director shifted his gaze to the Wen Clan of Teng Prefecture.

This family was similar to Yan Tower’s Dong Ye, also a fallen noble house, though their surviving members were far more numerous than the Dong Ye Clan, with many still living in Teng Prefecture.

The most famous was Lady Wen, who married into East Yang, the birth mother of Song Tianjiu, East Yang’s deceased Pilgrim Saint.

Unfortunately, she had only two sons and no daughters.

The Star Fate Director considered that an adopted daughter would work as well. As long as she had some relation to Lady Wen and came to the capital under the name of Teng Prefecture’s Wen Clan, it would suffice.

If Lady Wen were willing, it wouldn’t be bad for His Majesty to find East Yang’s backing for the Crown Prince. Although East Yang no longer had a Pilgrim Saint presiding, and the current sect leader was known for avoiding trouble and being lazy, at least they had a foundation, better than having nothing at all.

The Star Fate Director continued walking with a contemplative expression. He was truly racking his brains over this Crown Prince consort selection.

Flipping through his record book, he suddenly exclaimed in surprise. The attendant holding the umbrella cautiously asked, “Sir, what’s wrong?”

The Star Fate Director turned the page back and forth several times. The officials under the Martial Supervision Alliance headquarters listed here had shown no reaction whatsoever to the Crown Prince’s consort selection. As an organization directly under the Scripture Saint’s authority, they should have been among the first to submit portrait albums, whether to show support or to make clear they stood with His Majesty.

Could this be the Scripture Saint’s intention?

The Star Fate Director’s eyelid twitched as he abruptly closed the book, not daring to think further.

When he returned to the Star Fate Department, he heard an acolyte report: “Grand Director, another batch of selection portrait albums has arrived.”

“I’ll take a look,” the Star Fate Director asked, “From where did they come this time?”

“From various places,” the acolyte said. “The Martial Supervision Alliance, the Three Armies and Six Ministries, five grand dukes, and thirty-seven noble families.”

The Star Fate Director sat down at his desk and, ignoring even the Three Armies and Six Ministries, went straight to the classified portrait albums from the Martial Supervision Alliance. Only then did he secretly breathe a sigh of relief.

*

As the night snow grew heavier, thick layers accumulated on the corner of the eaves. The white fair-weather dolls hanging under the eaves were covered in frost. Inside the room, a young man dressed in bright yellow was sitting by the window, seriously engrossed in making a second fair-weather doll.

The young woman sitting across from him had a serene expression, resting her chin on one hand as she watched him work. Though he was intellectually challenged, he had a handsome appearance, taking after his father with refined features. Sitting there silently, he was quite the attractive young gentleman who could make people blush.

Zhou Caicai lowered her gaze to watch his beautiful, clearly defined fingers fluttering over the paper. His movements showed improvement compared to his previous attempts, though they still appeared somewhat slow.

“Paper crane,” the Crown Prince said. “I want to learn paper crane, not dolls.”

Zhou Caicai smiled with crescent eyes and said, “Your Highness, you must first promise me.”

The Crown Prince looked up at her, only able to speak in short sentences with the slightly blurred articulation characteristic of a child: “I will select you as Crown Princess.”

Zhou Caicai shook her head: “Not that matter.”

The Crown Prince held the paper, asking with a bewildered expression: “Then what?”

“Sinking Prison,” Zhou Caicai also spoke in concise terms when conversing with him, avoiding long sentences and complex meanings, keeping things simple and comprehensible. “I want to go to Sinking Prison to find a friend.”

The Crown Prince blinked: “You have a friend in Sinking Prison?”

Zhou Caicai nodded.

The Crown Prince asked: “What is Sinking Prison?”

Zhou Caicai: “…”

She didn’t give up easily, sitting straight and gesturing with her hands: “It’s where people are locked up, not given food, not allowed to fold paper, a very scary place.”

The Crown Prince frowned, clearly disliking the sound of this place.

“I don’t like it,” he said.

Zhou Caicai spread her hands and said, “I don’t like it either.”

The Crown Prince turned to look at the person standing beside his bed, arranging his bedding: “A’Nu, Caicai wants to go to Sinking Prison.”

The elderly man called A’Nu wore black clothes and was thin to the bone, with restraint rings binding both his hands. His appearance was excessively fierce and frightening, yet he was extremely respectful toward the Crown Prince. Hearing this, he turned and asked: “How does Your Highness command?”

The Crown Prince said, “Take Caicai there for a while, I don’t like the place she described.”

“This old servant obeys,” he replied.

Zhou Caicai stood up and said, “That’s wonderful, let’s go now!”

The Crown Prince made a sad face and asked: “You’re leaving?”

“I’ll just take a quick look and come back,” Zhou Caicai made a gesture of swearing. “Your Highness can play by yourself first, and when I return, I’ll teach you how to fold paper cranes.”

“Then you may go,” the Crown Prince said. “Remember to come back, okay?”

Zhou Caicai turned back at the doorway: “With A’Nu accompanying me, I’ll return.”

*

When Zhou Caicai left the Eastern Palace, she had changed her appearance, wearing a cloak with a thin veil covering her face, revealing only a pair of bright, clever eyes. She walked with lowered head beside A’Nu. Palace maids and guards they passed also kept their heads down, not daring to look twice.

Sinking Prison was located in the western part of the imperial palace. Most of the serious offenders imprisoned some cultivators had their star meridians destroyed or their powers sealed. Bearing secrets or sins, they were confined in this sunless place.

A’Nu remained silent throughout the journey, bringing her to Sinking Prison through the night snow. He produced the Crown Prince’s token, and the prison guards bowed their heads and allowed them to enter.

“Whom does His Highness wish to see?” Two prison guards walked alongside them, asking, “Do you require our guidance?”

A’Nu turned to look at Zhou Caicai, who gently shook her head, so he replied: “No need.”

These two prison guards were perceptive, seeing this response, they said no more and respectfully escorted the two deeper into the prison.

Sinking Prison was dark and damp. Walking down the stone steps, they saw flickering candlelight. The cells were extremely narrow, with incantation scripts written on each wooden pillar. As Zhou Caicai was observing the people in the compartments, she suddenly heard screams from afar, startling her.

A’Nu stood beside her without expression, completely unmoved by the screams.

Zhou Caicai, already startled by the screams, looked up and was frightened again by A’Nu’s fierce appearance illuminated by the candlelight.

She raised her hand to touch her face, then continued walking forward.

The prisoners in the cells were all covered in blood, without a single uninjured part on their bodies, layered with old and new wounds that were shocking to behold. In those small-scale cells, the prisoners were all hunched over in a sleeping state. As they walked further in, the cells became slightly larger. Some prisoners had their hands bound by chains and were suspended in mid-air, while others had their limbs nailed to the ground.

Some prisoners under Yin-Yang curses rolled on the ground, clawing at their skin with their fingers, squeezing out a few difficult words from their throats, begging for death.

Each cell had two prison guards standing in front, who bowed in respect when they saw A’Nu and Zhou Caicai.

Zhou Caicai stopped at the last cell, where a man had been tortured severely, but he was not the one she was looking for.

She discreetly left Sinking Prison with A’Nu, coming outside to breathe the fresh, cold air. After exhaling a breath of turbid air, she looked at A’Nu and said, “Thank you.”

A’Nu asked: “Did the young lady find her friend?”

Zhou Caicai smiled with curved eyes: “It seems I remembered incorrectly. That friend is not here, I’ll have to continue searching.”

*

Winter in North Dipper came a few days later than in the imperial capital.

Before the snow fell, Ming Li, who had been asleep for nearly a month, finally awoke.

Dong Yeshou was still sitting across from her, examining a letter in his hand. Chen Zhou also sat in his original position, pouring tea while telling his master: “He doesn’t use his real name when traveling, making him difficult to track. His last departure from the mountain was with Zixi, saying they were going to the Ice Wastes, but there has been no news from either of them. Tomorrow I’ll go to the Ice Wastes to search again… Oh, the sleeping beauty is awake?”

Chen Zhou rested his chin on one hand, looking at her and passing the cup of tea he had just poured to Ming Li.

Ming Li looked at the Shi Fei stone in her hand, a cooling sensation flowing from the top of her head, making her alert and clear-minded.

“Were you talking about my brother?” She placed the Shi Fei beside Dong Yeshou and took the tea Chen Zhou offered. It was too hot, so she raised her eyes to look at him.

Chen Zhou tilted his head, indicating she should set it down to cool before drinking.

“The one from the imperial capital sent you an invitation,” Dong Yeshou said, handing her the letter and invitation. “It says people from the thirty-three tribes of the northern border have been spotted in the imperial capital, and he requests your help in eliminating them.”

Ming Li took the letter and looked at it. It was written by Emperor Wen Xiu himself.

As she read, she said: “Zixi said my brother didn’t go to the Ice Wastes, but to the imperial capital.”

Hearing the words “imperial capital,” Chen Zhou couldn’t help but recall the conversation from the Double Seventh Festival years ago, giving him an ominous feeling.

“How interesting that he’s not having the Scripture Saint handle this, but wants me to go instead,” Ming Li smiled as she raised the letter in her hand. “Have these two finally reached the point of mutual suspicion?”

Chen Zhou tapped his finger on the table: “It could also be because of the Crown Prince’s consort selection. He might want you to go for that as well.”

Dong Yeshou laughed: “His Majesty shouldn’t be that senile yet.”

“Crown Prince?” Ming Li blinked at the two. “Great Qin has a Crown Prince now?”

Dong Yeshou said: “The Crown Prince was established three years ago, His Majesty’s sixth son.”

Ming Li thought for a moment but couldn’t recall. She looked at Chen Zhou, who had frantically caught up on missing intelligence during her month-long sleep. When she turned to him with a blank look, he calmly replied: “The sixth prince with intellectual disabilities has been appointed.”

“Oh.” Ming Li nodded, thinking that her senior brother indeed knew more than she did.

“Why would His Majesty appoint someone with intellectual disabilities as Crown Prince?” Ming Li said. “I remember he has an illness and won’t last many more years.”

Ming Li couldn’t believe this was about paving the way for the Crown Prince before death.

Emperor Wen Xiu was no fool. He knew perfectly well that no matter what he did, placing someone with a child’s intellect in that position would eventually lead to them being pulled down, or rather, all of Great Qin would prevent it.

A man who could command the Scripture Saint’s wholehearted loyalty for decades couldn’t possibly fail to understand this.

Chen Zhou asked her: “How do you plan to handle this invitation?”

“I’ll go,” Ming Li said. “I’ll go to the imperial capital to see what His Majesty is thinking, how people from the thirty-three tribes could reach the imperial capital, and incidentally, take a look at that imperial capital lady for whom my brother has traversed mountains of blades and seas of fire.”