Life flashed by, six years nearly passed, and truly things had changed while people remained—or rather, both people and circumstances had transformed.

That day, a bundle of loose silver and a donkey cart had given Gu Hongyun and the others a chance to escape danger, yet because of a lifetime of open dealing, he had unwittingly committed one disgusting act, and encountering obstacles along the road, Gu Hongyun’s qi gate had become blocked. Six years of martial arts had made no progress at all, and worse, he still could not calm his mind enough to enter meditation.

Coming to the capital today was also meant to settle the matters weighing on his heart, to bring closure to the causes and effects that had arisen. Once he returned to the mountain, he would follow his master’s path toward seclusion like Master Benyi’s sword style—he had reached the age for withdrawing from the world, and already had plans to become a monk.

Today the sun was fine, a cool breeze blew gently. In the courtyard of the Wenshen Temple, several folding stools, a small table, a pot of clear tea, four small cups.

Qiqian’er and Huo Wu Rong were both naturally at ease by temperament, and since they already knew the причины—since they already knew the reasons and recognized these old acquaintances—they had the maids prepare the tea table, receiving guests openly within the temple.

Gu Hongyun sat properly upright, and upon getting a clear look at Qiqian’er, he was even more astonished. Back then, this woman had still been a young girl, yet with a body full of chaotic qi she had left him thoroughly disgraced, and worse, badly injured. At that time she hadn’t known how to conceal it—qi vortices had swirled all over her body, and he could tell at a glance what was wrong with her.

He had even considered bringing her back to the Qianchu Pavilion.

How many years had it been since then?

Ever since his own birth he had received his sect’s favor—soaked in secret medicine from age seven, then embracing pillars and practicing horse stance to enter the ranks of a prestigious martial family. His starting point had already been higher than that of ordinary martial family disciples, and after achieving some small success he had entered the martial world—young and reckless, upholding justice wherever he went. Within just a few years he had earned praise from brothers across the land and built up some modest reputation, and he too had been quite arrogant about it.

Who could have predicted that what he called greatness, the Dao he sought, would instead meet with dynastic upheaval—surrounded by a thousand troops, trampled beneath ten thousand horses. Fighting desperately to resist, he finally realized he possessed nothing but the courage of a lone man; trapped further still in a city of sorrow, facing the power of an empire as a single individual, he realized he was in truth nothing at all.

Such was the stifling frustration of having strength he could never test. His spirit, too, had suffered a great blow.

Under such calamity, the human world he knew no longer seemed like the human world at all, but hell itself! From the moment he had carried the orphans out of the Prince’s manor, all along this road—as the new dynasty rose and he fled ten thousand li—as remnants of a fallen kingdom, Gu Hongyun had struggled along the way and encountered betrayal upon betrayal, more than could be counted, and cruel harm besides.

Those capable of wounding his heart’s composure were, without exception, people he had once entrusted his very back to—among them even two sworn brothers.

Carrying the bones of his sister-disciples and their orphaned children back to his sect, Gu Hongyun had felt all hope extinguished. In truth, for the entire six years, Gu Hongyun had not practiced his martial arts at all—he hadn’t even touched his sword or spear. His whole heart and mind had been trapped within questions of human nature and morality, and he often wondered: everything I learned in the past, does it still have any use at all?

He had made not the slightest progress. And it had only been six years—yet looking at this woman now, he could no longer sense any qi from her at all.

His own master had gone into seclusion at sixty-two, and at seventy had broken through his own barriers to finally find true ease—from then on his qi had turned inward, and he had become like an ordinary little old man, utterly carefree and happy. His master had trained bitterly his whole life, never once daring to grow lax.

But this woman—when had she broken through her own barrier?

He wanted to ask but had no way to do so, so Gu Hongyun could only sit there dazed, his mind in complete disorder, thoughts swirling, the blow to his spirit considerable.

Seeing that he had fallen silent, Qiqian’er turned to look at the little boy and smiled, saying, “Little one, are you thirsty?”

Hearing this, the boy laughed and thanked Qiqian’er, saying, “Thank you, Auntie, I’m not thirsty.”

Qiqian’er was surprised: “You call me Auntie?”

The boy smiled, pure and gentle: “I knew Auntie wouldn’t recognize me. Auntie, do you remember that bag of dried taro you gave us?”

“Ah!” Qiqian’er was truly startled, and looked the child up and down, finally saying with relief after a long moment, “Wonderful, you’ve grown so much! You’re already taller than my waist.”

Gu Hongyun, sitting to the side, finally seized the chance to speak, and cut in: “His grand-master gave up six years’ worth of precious medicine for him—it’s no wonder he grew so fast. What our benefactor doesn’t know is that this one has always been carefree and thoughtless—he’s only eleven, yet sturdier than a boy of twelve or thirteen. Our coming here this time is also to bring him to the capital, to visit his father’s grave, so he can pay respects to his father.”

Qiqian’er had, after that, genuinely thought about whether these people were alive or dead, and had felt pity for the two children.

Now, seeing them appear here so openly, she slowed her tone and asked, “The last time we parted, I thought about it afterward—you were fleeing from the Great Liang army, weren’t you?”

Gu Hongyun answered frankly: “Yes! It was exactly that! Benefactor need not worry—this time… heh, we were actually summoned by the court. Some days ago, Emperor Wu specially sent someone to the Qianchu Pavilion to have a detailed talk with my master. My coming here this time is also to represent the twelve sects of the Northern Martial Schools, to cooperate with the court alongside the Abbot of the Northern Huguo Temple. From now on… I’m afraid we’ll be staying in Yanjing for some time.”

Qiqian’er felt somewhat relieved in her heart, but still spoke earnestly to Gu Hongyun: “Matters of the court, matters of the martial world—I don’t understand them. When I saved you back then, it was for the children’s sake. Since you were certain I would come, you must have made inquiries and already know my background—you know what my husband’s family is about, don’t you?”

Gu Hongyun said, quite openly: “Yes. Back then, once I reached this place, I wanted to find young sister-in-law to repay the kindness, but I was unfamiliar with the place and people, so I went to seek out Master Xin.”

“Uncle Xin?”

“Yes.”

“Ha, I thought as much.”

“Young aunt need not blame the old master either. We were gathering information in Qingfeng, and there was no way to avoid the head of the beggars’ clan—he was bound to go bother the old master first thing. Besides, he and my late master had some old ties, and the moment I mentioned it he understood at once, yet he warned us not to disturb you. So Quan’er and I rented a house here, thinking—someday we’d surely wait long enough to encounter you.”

Qiqian’er shook her head and smiled: “Well, here we’ve met after all. Tomorrow you’re heading into the capital, aren’t you?”

Gu Hongyun laughed, and after laughing, took out a small bundle from inside his robe and placed it on the little table, saying: “Just as you say—tomorrow we’ll go to lodge at the Huguo Temple. The senior disciples there are all of the same lineage, and they’ve long been calling for us to come…

This is nothing much, but it’s a Nine-Mechanism Pill from my Qianchu Pavilion. It can’t compare to the secret medicine of Baishi Mountain, but at every change of season throughout the year, if your whole family takes one pill, it can ward off a hundred illnesses and nourish the body.”

Qiqian’er cared most about the elderly and children—she truly had little regard for anything else.

So she didn’t refuse, only smiled and nodded to accept it, then asked Gu Hongyun: “From what you’re saying, the court used to hunt you down, but now you’ve reconciled?”

The little boy nodded repeatedly, and only now did his childish nature show through, looking utterly adorable.

Qiqian’er, finding him charming, reached across the little table and patted his head a few times.

Gu Hongyun watched with a smile, and after a good while said: “Perhaps they’ll even give me an official post to do.”

Huo Wu Rong, who had been sitting silently to the side, laughed: “Oh my, I actually know about this! These past few years, eight out of ten stories at the old teahouse are about exactly this—being recruited and pardoned by the court.”

Gu Hongyun smiled at her: “That’s precisely the meaning. These stories are also written and passed down for people like us to hear.”

Huo Wu Rong absolutely did not believe it, and looked in astonishment first at Qiqian’er, then at this gentlemanly-looking man, thinking: he’s not that old? And dressed so respectably too—how does he compare to the idle rogues and drifters in our neighborhood who boast even bigger nonsense? Truly, all sorts of people exist in this world.

Qiqian’er’s thoughts ran broader than Huo Wu Rong’s, and she felt more moved, sighing in confusion: “All of you people—underneath, you’re all the same. It really is interesting. Back then it was all killing and bloodshed flowing like rivers, and now that things have turned around, you want to be pardoned and recruited again.

My husband is the same way too—his heart grows more roundabout the longer it goes. Sometimes I really do think… it’s just like children’s play, good turning bad, bad turning good again…” She looked toward where the old well was and sighed: “But it’s a pity for those who didn’t survive, those who couldn’t play this game, those who got dragged into it and could never get out again.”

These words suddenly touched something in Gu Hongyun’s heart. He lifted his teacup and drank, and after a long while said: “All this time, I still haven’t told our benefactor about our origins. I dare not deceive you—we come from the Qianchu Pavilion. Of my generation, there were two sister-disciples. One married the Sima General of the former dynasty’s Black Cavalry Commandant—that is, the one who was a Prince back then—and, and his mother…”

He reached out and stroked the head of the little boy beside him, saying: “His mother was also my sister-disciple. His father was the former dynasty’s Black Cavalry Commandant’s Chief Instructor, Fang Xiangzheng.”

Having said this, he looked very seriously at Qiqian’er and said: “Our benefactor’s husband is the last remaining blade-head in this world, yet their Black Cavalry Commandant line has only this one sprout left. There is enmity between our two sides—if you harbor any resentment toward us, we would never dare admit to knowing you, even once we’ve left here.”

The little boy looked somewhat sad, lowering his head, using his finger to pick at the tassel on his sword.

How could Qiqian’er not know about the connection between Old Blade and the Black Cavalry Commandant? At home, the few things her family members ordinarily spoke of were just those same handful of things—the Long Blade Bureau, the Tan Family Army, the Old Blade Camp, the Black Cavalry Commandant, the palace, His Majesty…

She thought it over for a while, then spoke quite seriously to Gu Hongyun: “You’d best not mention it. I’m just a simple woman managing household affairs—my greatest wish is nothing more than harmony at home and a house full of descendants. My children don’t need to achieve glory and fame; good health and safety are all I ask.

I don’t care to see that fighting and killing, don’t want to hear of it either. Today was just a coincidence, running into you. Ask Uncle Xin and you’ll understand—ordinarily I don’t like going out, and I’m quite averse to trouble. How else would I come to know a figure of the martial world like yourself?”

Gu Hongyun had anticipated this already, and nodded with relief: “That’s how it should be, that’s how it should be. I just hadn’t expected…”

Qiqian’er was curious: “Hadn’t expected what?”

Gu Hongyun nodded: “I won’t hide it from you—when I first heard, I was startled myself. Grandmother Yushu of Baiquan Mountain has long been famous in the martial world, on par even with my master Benyi. The old master didn’t say it outright, but there was no way I could have guessed—that you would be willing to stay in the inner chambers, managing the household and assisting your husband in raising the children?”

Qiqian’er was even more astonished than he was: “Isn’t that how it should be? Following your logic, should I go and pluck stars from the sky instead? What I’m best at is managing household matters—keeping everything, inside and out, tidy and in order, that’s my life. Would you really have me go learn to be aloof and unattached to worldly feeling?”

Huo Wu Rong understood less and less, and had wanted to ask for details, but then remembered the two books her sister had given her, thinking: no wonder my sister has changed so much. It seems that night we scattered, I had my own fortune, and Seventh Sister must have met with her own chance encounter too.

Ah, the Huo family’s daughters had a hard fate—who knows what they owed someone in a past life, to be saddled with such toil in this one. No one gets to be carefree.

Sitting here thinking it over carefully—that thin, withered, timid, cowardly Qiqian’er—had she somehow, without anyone noticing, become an entirely different person?

She held back her curiosity, but stared intently at her sister’s face.

Qiqian’er, feeling the odd look beside her, gave her sister a push.

During this period, Gu Hongyun had also been asking around everywhere. He had originally assumed their benefactor had some hidden sorrow, never expecting she would genuinely think this way, and genuinely live this way—and she was even about to give birth to a second child for the man. So… wasn’t it better to be an old recluse revered by ten thousand people?

Seeing the strange look in Gu Hongyun’s eyes, Qiqian’er spoke to him earnestly: “Now that the court is willing to grant you pardon, forget the past and start anew. Never mind anyone else—look at how small this child still is? He’s already lost both father and mother, why drag him back into Yanjing to get entangled in more of this? Besides, though my husband was once tied up with all of you, he was a bonded slave forced into the military camp—his blade was never his own to control, and even now it’s less his own than ever. This child… this child’s father, could it be that he too loved all this fighting and killing from the start?

Since I once saved you for his sake, I only hope that from now on he can read a few books, live a peaceful and stable life, and best of all, stay far, far away from all this trouble—settle down, start a family, and live out his life safely and well. That should be this child’s true path home. Think it over carefully—isn’t that the right way?”

A surge of deep longing rose in Gu Hongyun’s eyes, myriad emotions welling up, and he said in suppressed sorrow: “So… it turns out all mothers under heaven think the same way.”

Qiqian’er was taken aback.

Gu Hongyun laughed bitterly: “I don’t mean to offend our benefactor—back then, my sister-disciple hanged herself and left a letter behind, and she said exactly the same thing.”

Qiqian’er struck the little table: “Exactly! Then why did you come back at all?”

Gu Hongyun looked up at the sky, and finally said: “Coming back—it’s because Emperor Wu wants the hearts of the realm to return to unity, wants peace and prosperity across the land. We, too, want these two remaining sprouts left by our sister-disciples to be able to move through this world openly and without shame. This isn’t something the court simply agreed to—building temples for their fathers to honor their loyalty and valor required this in exchange. Our benefactor may not know it, but those in power above always love balance most of all. Our Northern School has for generations served as the emperor’s foot soldiers, and now he wants that service again.”

Qiqian’er pursed her lips: “My own household even has a Jiu Si Tang—those people are all from the Southern School.”

Gu Hongyun shook his head and laughed: “Some things really do need to be explained clearly to you. Well then—our benefactor may not know that when Jiu Si Tang was first established, the sovereign’s intention was for it to quickly gather and pacify the martial world’s forces, so that the court could govern smoothly, bring the territory under control early, and win the hearts of all under heaven.

But this man, Meng Dingchen… in the first half of his life he was a monk chanting sutras in a temple. He doesn’t understand any of this at all. Perhaps chanting too many sutras of compassion bred a rebellious streak in him, because now he goes about everywhere trying to imitate the wrathful guardian deities glaring with anger—he couldn’t even manage to be a proper monk!

It’s not that I look down on him—when it comes to martial skill, we’re evenly matched. But when it comes to cooperating with the court, our Northern School has several hundred more years of experience. What’s more, the Northern Huguo Temple has, generation after generation, collected every manner of doctrine and learning, and has contributed methods and techniques to every dynasty throughout history—what I specialize in is agricultural and metallurgical craft. We have rendered service to the realm, and should not be casually humiliated, yet he insists on placing himself above us—who could possibly submit to that?

Our Northern School gave our full support to the former dynasty—in the past we each served our own masters, and to this day none of us feel we did anything wrong.

Yet that Meng Dingchen still wants to put on a show of being a capable minister, setting down a pile of rules, and when they show no results he grows impatient and starts causing destruction everywhere.

Your husband may not mention it at home, but our benefactor, if you wish to inquire, will find that ever since this man gained power, he personally created countless enemies on Emperor Wu’s behalf. Just the Baishi Mountain case alone—he offended physicians across the realm on Great Liang’s behalf. And there are also many old recluses from all over whose descendants and nephews have been persecuted from multiple sides. Especially in recent years, assassins have often made their way into the palace… I imagine your husband, serving before the emperor, has crossed blades with them many times already—he simply hasn’t mentioned it to you.”

Hearing this, Qiqian’er’s heart gave a start, and the child within her, sensitive to her feelings, grew restless, kicking her hard twice.

Huo Wu Rong, who had been holding the teapot to refill her sister’s water, watched wide-eyed as her own sister crushed a porcelain cup into powder.

At that, she drew in a sharp breath, her eyes going as wide as an ox’s.