Ming Huazhang sent all the idle onlookers out of Ming Huashang’s courtyard, gave the maids thorough instructions to care for her well, and went out to examine Zhao Cai’s body. He had not seen it with his own eyes, and could not be at ease.

So Xie Jichuan was turned out the door, only to find himself pulled along to look at a body. Walking along the path, Xie Jichuan said coolly, “I’m at your beck and call one moment and shown the door the next. Well — no longer thinking I make too much noise?”

“If it weren’t for the fact that you were the only one present when the coroner examined the body, do you think I’d need you?” said Ming Huazhang evenly. “Don’t waste words. Walk faster. Once I’m done looking, I have to hurry back — if she wakes up and can’t find me, she’ll be frightened.”

Xie Jichuan gave a cold laugh and made absolutely no attempt to hide his eye-roll. Jiang Ling and Ren Yao’s task had been to assist the capital bureau in capturing the suspect. Now that the killer had been found, the interrogation and sentencing were not their concern. Both of them were at loose ends and tagged along for the spectacle.

Duke Zhenguo saw that the younger ones were all going, and as the elder, he naturally could not hang back behind the children. He went along as well.

One of Ming Huazhang’s trusted attendants had been placed in charge of the arrangements for Zhao Cai’s body. In the space of this brief interval, they had already cleared out an empty courtyard. The moment they stepped through the gate, a wave of cold, ominous air swept over them.

Though Xie Jichuan and Ming Huazhang could barely stand each other, in action they were entirely without hesitation. The two of them raised their robes and stepped up onto the platform at almost exactly the same moment, their movements fluid and graceful — a sight worth watching. Ren Yao followed behind them, her steps somewhat reluctant.

She had no fear of strong enemies or vicious men — but she was afraid of dead bodies. Yet if she showed fear, it might seem as though she were not equal to men. While Ren Yao was at a loss, a voice behind her burst out with great fuss and commotion. Jiang Ling grabbed Ren Yao from behind and wailed, “I’m scared of dead bodies. I don’t dare go in.”

Ren Yao kept her face blank and pushed him away. Jiang Ling refused to let go, clinging to Ren Yao like an enormous piece of sticky taffy. Ren Yao couldn’t shake him off and said with distaste, “Look at yourself. You’re a disgrace to the Feather Forest Army. All right — stay out here. I’ll keep you company.”

Only then did Jiang Ling grin and stand up properly. Ren Yao’s mouth registered disdain, but she felt a quiet rush of relief in her heart.

Duke Zhenguo came in last, and inconspicuously glanced over at Jiang Ling. As a fellow man, he saw through Jiang Ling’s intention at a glance. He was only surprised that the Jiang’an Heir, who in other people’s talk was reckless and idle, turned out to possess such thoughtful perceptiveness.

He had noticed that the girl he cared about was afraid, yet rather than seizing the chance to show off his own bravery — to protect her — he had taken the cause onto himself and cleverly spared her the embarrassment. That kind of consideration was far harder and rarer than simply stepping up and declaring he would protect her.

Either his nature was genuinely kind and sensitive, or he loved that girl deeply enough.

After this moment of reflection, Duke Zhenguo headed without further hesitation into the room. He had lived more than half a lifetime — he couldn’t let himself be shown up by a few youngsters. Duke Zhenguo thought of himself as someone who had seen the great storms of the world, who had no cause to fear a single dead body. But when he went in and saw someone who had been familiar in life lying on the ice platform, face ashen, covered in blood, joints curled at unnatural angles, barely looking human — the shock he felt far exceeded anything he could have prepared for.

Duke Zhenguo could not begin to contemplate that all these wounds had originally been meant for Ming Huashang.

Ming Huazhang had already put on gloves and was bent over examining Zhao Cai’s eyelids. The ice blocks around the room gave off a shallow haze of cold mist. Ming Huazhang’s face was half-obscured within it — calm and remote, possessed of a kind of sorrowful compassion that seemed almost sacred.

Duke Zhenguo had seen Ming Huazhang dutiful, diligent, warm-mannered, and proper — but this was the first time he had seen him this way. He was momentarily struck still. Ming Huazhang caught Duke Zhenguo’s uncomfortable expression from the corner of his eye and said in a gentle voice, “Father, to preserve the body, the inquest cannot have too many people present. Please wait outside.”

Duke Zhenguo had just been reflecting on how Jiang Ling knew when to give someone a graceful way out. Now the one being handed a graceful way out was himself. He felt a complex and thorny tangle of feelings. He sighed, did not try to save face, and stepped back outside.

As he pushed open the door, the evening’s golden light poured over him, as if he had stepped into another world. Jiang Ling and Ren Yao were standing on the covered walkway, talking. They saw Duke Zhenguo come out and, without asking what had happened, smiled in greeting. “Duke Zhenguo.”

Duke Zhenguo felt somewhat self-conscious and said wryly, “There’s no fighting old age. A man with half a foot in the grave, and I don’t even have the nerve of two young people.”

Jiang Ling heard this and said breezily, “The Duke is being too hard on himself. Ordinary people are afraid of corpses — the two who aren’t are the abnormal ones.”

Duke Zhenguo was suddenly gripped by a mild curiosity about the place where Ming Huazhang served. “Does the capital bureau deal with these things often?”

“We’re in the Northern Garrison barracks ordinarily, so I don’t know the capital bureau’s affairs well. But every time I see Ming Huazhang, there’s a dead body,” Jiang Ling said with a sigh. “Xie Jichuan, you can tell just by looking at him that his belly is full of scheming — him not being afraid of dead bodies isn’t strange. But Ming Huazhang, now, looks refined and composed, yet has no fear whatsoever and is drawn to anything dangerous. This body is nothing — last time, when the pavilion exploded, people were blown apart and sent flying everywhere, blood and charred flesh all over the ground and in the trees, and even old constables with thirty-something years of experience were sick to their stomachs. Ming Huazhang went in first, calm as you please, and pieced the body fragments back together. Oh, and then there’s Ming Huashang — the two of them really are worthy of being called brother and sister. Ming Huashang is sometimes fiercer than Ming Huazhang. She’d sit by herself in a place where a dead body had only just been lying, just staring and staring — gave me the chills just watching her…”

Ren Yao gave Jiang Ling a light nudge, signaling him to mind what he said. “The dead deserve respect — say less. If it weren’t for our carelessness, Zhao Cai would not have died. We failed Erniang and caused her to fall ill. Please forgive us, Duke Zhenguo.”

Duke Zhenguo waved it off. “This is not your fault. As Huazhang said — the one who deserves blame is that madman. Erniang and Zhao Cai were both victims.”

At this, Duke Zhenguo suddenly realized: he himself had barely been able to stand being in the room. But Ming Huazhang knew Zhao Cai even better — and he was not only looking, but had no choice but to examine closely how she had died, with a face he had known attached to it. How much harder must that have been on him inside?

After Ming Huashang was brought back last night, Duke Zhenguo had given his full attention to her and had no energy left for anything else. Then, as if in a blink, Ming Huazhang had simply come back — taking it for granted — and was caring for his sick sister, arranging Zhao Cai’s affairs, managing the family’s emotions. Everything as natural as though he had always been meant to.

And yet the young man standing out ahead of everyone, expertly shielding others from the wind and cold, was only seventeen years old. A day before, he had just lost two people who were family to him.

If the unborn child in Princess Yongtai’s womb was counted, it was three.

Duke Zhenguo stood still in sudden, sharp recognition. From what point had it become so natural to let Ming Huazhang stand at the front? Zhang Huai Crown Prince’s death had been too anguished, and it had become a wound in the hearts of all the old loyal subjects. For years, Duke Zhenguo had not dared ease his vigilance in raising Ming Huazhang for a single moment, wishing that this boy could possess every virtue under heaven. But today Duke Zhenguo suddenly awoke to the alarming realization that Ming Huazhang seemed too capable, too grown-up.

Always shouldering everything alone. Always steady and dependable. With time’s passage, so familiar a sight that everyone — including himself — had forgotten that he was flesh and blood too. That he could be hurt. That he could be tired. That there were moments when he could not hold on.

Duke Zhenguo asked suddenly, “In your eyes, what kind of person is Ming Huazhang?”

Asked in front of the man’s own foster father, they could not very well say anything bad. Ren Yao thought for a moment and said sincerely, “He is a very reliable person.”

Jiang Ling usually carried himself as if he were the finest person in the world. But at this moment he said, “When other people talk about those noble principles — even my own father — I feel like they’re boasting. But if it’s Ming Huazhang who says it, I believe it.”

Duke Zhenguo could hear that both these young people gave their approval of Ming Huazhang from the heart. He gazed out at the rampant, coiled, gathering energy of spring, lost in thought for a moment, then asked, “And what kind of person do you think Shang’er is?”

At this, Ren Yao and Jiang Ling both visibly relaxed. Ren Yao immediately listed off a great many of Ming Huashang’s good qualities — considerate, understanding, quick-witted, bold yet careful, and more. Jiang Ling was not in a position to directly praise Ming Huashang, so every time Ren Yao named one quality, he nodded along beside her. “Yes. I think so too.”

The two of them carrying on in this call-and-response was rather endearing, and Duke Zhenguo couldn’t help but smile. After the smile came a heavy, formless bewilderment.

This was the first time he had heard from outsiders that Ming Huashang was quick-witted and bold yet careful, and it suddenly struck him that he did not truly understand his own daughter. These years he had poured his whole self into Ming Huazhang, with eyes and heart full of nothing but anxiety about not disappointing Zhang Huai Crown Prince’s trust. He had placed too high a weight of expectation on Ming Huazhang, and neglected his own daughter in the process.

He had thought that providing a daughter with the finest material life was caring for her, and had forgotten that what a child needed most was company.

If Yulan were still here, it would not have come to this. If Yuji had grown up in the manor, as a companion to Shang’er, it would not have come to this.

Duke Zhenguo thought back over the years, and his mood grew heavier still. It seemed he truly had not been a good husband or a good father. He had buried his own wife and eldest daughter with his own hands. Even the youngest daughter raised beside him had not been given what a father owed her. He was genuinely a failure as a man.

Duke Zhenguo sighed slowly, and began to understand a little of why Ming Huashang depended so much on Ming Huazhang. Setting aside the question of identities entirely — Ming Huazhang had been far more of a guardian to her than he had ever been as her father. He knew Ming Huashang’s preferences, and what was hardest to find was that he understood her feelings, and was willing to accompany her in doing things that the world saw as improper and incomprehensible.

No wonder that when Ming Huashang woke, she could not find a single word to say facing all of them — and only when she saw Ming Huazhang return was she finally able to cry.

They had all assumed she had been frightened by the dead body. But Ming Huazhang had known that she was consumed with self-reproach. To her, she had not lost a maidservant. She had lost a friend.

The last trace of reservation Duke Zhenguo had harbored toward Ming Huazhang melted away entirely. So be it. Children’s affairs were for children to manage. He was not a good father, and had no standing to make choices about his daughter’s marriage. Whatever ground Shang’er and Huazhang could reach together — let them find it themselves.

Duke Zhenguo stared out at the sun being gradually swallowed by the horizon, lost in thought. Suddenly the door behind him opened, and Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan came out mid-conversation. “Draw up a map and mark where you found the bloodstained robe, and where Yang Half-Mad lives. I’ll need it shortly — no, immediately.”

Xie Jichuan made a sound of irritable displeasure. “It’s nearly dark. Drawing maps strains the eyes — wait until tomorrow.”

“The sun hasn’t set yet. If you draw it quickly, your eyes won’t be strained.” Ming Huazhang signaled to the attendants waiting outside. “Go and fetch writing materials for Young Master Xie.”

Xie Jichuan gave a cold, soft scoff. “Needed for something, I’m Young Master Xie. Otherwise, just some stray person cluttering the place. How refreshingly candid.”

Ming Huazhang ignored the sarcastic remarks entirely and, only after watching with his own eyes as Xie Jichuan produced the map, said, “Thank you all for your trouble in bringing Zhao Cai back today. It’s getting late. Let me see you out.”

“No need,” said Xie Jichuan, too weary to endure any more of his courtesy. “My legs haven’t aged. I can walk myself. Go back and take care of Second Little Sister — in case something goes wrong, and then you blame me for wasting your time.”

Ming Huazhang heard this and truly stopped trying to see them out. “Take care on the road, then. Goodbye.”

Duke Zhenguo naturally could not be so discourteous, and at once sent the household steward to see all three young guests out of the manor. While they were exchanging parting pleasantries, Ming Huazhang had already slipped back to the inner courtyard and returned to Ming Huashang’s side.

Ming Huazhang asked the maids and learned that in this interval, Ming Huashang had neither woken up nor had any nightmares. A little of the tension in his chest eased. He sat at the edge of the bed, turning the map over in silence, his other hand still holding Ming Huashang’s wrist.

He had no power to go into her dreams and drive away the things that frightened her. He could only use this to tell her — he was here.

Still here.

When Ming Huashang opened her eyes, this was the scene she saw before her.