After Ming Huashang finished handling the Feng household matter, she quietly took Wei Zhu away without disturbing anyone and returned to the Prefect’s residence. The Feng family’s first and second mistresses still had no idea what had transpired. Ming Huashang planned to notify the Feng household members only after the old Feng patriarch’s case was fully concluded.

In the official residence, Jin Bao and the other maidservants were still waiting for her. After Ming Huashang had arranged everything for closing the case, a great deal of time had passed — and still Li Huazhang had not returned.

Ming Huashang could not help but feel uneasy. Li Huazhang had long suspected that the guards the old Feng patriarch had recruited were problematic, and had also been on guard against Prince Qiao — he had made his arrangements for dealing with Dong Hai and his people, so in principle there should be no danger. But Ming Huashang could not afford the risk of a “what if.” She kept sending people out of the city to gather news, until a guard suddenly came running in to report: “Princess, Prince of Yong has returned.”

Ming Huashang was overjoyed. Without even pausing to put on an outer robe, she ran out: “My husband—”

She eagerly threw aside the door curtain — and ran straight into a dark figure. The collision sent her stumbling back a step, and the person instinctively reached out to steady her by the arm. Ming Huashang looked up at the face before her and for a moment could not process what she was seeing. It was then that Li Huazhang came walking along the covered corridor, and with a swift, unobtrusive glance at the scene before him, he drew Ming Huashang smoothly to his side and asked in a low voice: “It’s so late — why haven’t you gone to rest?”

Seeing Li Huazhang, Ming Huashang finally felt at ease. She naturally wrapped her arm around his and laughed, smoothly covering over the awkwardness of the moment before: “How could I rest easy without you back? Xie Jichuan, it has been a while — how have you been?”

Xie Jichuan noticed Ming Huashang’s form of address and her gesture, and quietly lowered his eyes. “Well enough,” he said.

Ming Huashang had no time to dwell on the awkwardness of a moment ago — she had finally seen Li Huazhang, and pressed on urgently: “You’re finally back. I interrogated Wei Zhu — that is, the senior maidservant Bao Zhu — and learned that the old Feng patriarch had thrown in his lot with Prince Qiao and meant to do you harm.”

“I already know,” Li Huazhang said, his eyes on Ming Huashang’s thin clothing. He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her inside. “Come in first and talk.”

The appearance of Xie Jichuan in Shangzhou all the way from distant Chang’an in the dead of night needed no further explanation of how Li Huazhang had come to know. Ming Huashang was pushed in through the door, but still found the presence of mind to call back over her shoulder: “Xie A’Jie, what are you standing there for? Come sit inside.”

The last time Xie Jichuan had seen Ming Huashang had been before their wedding. After all this time apart, she was exactly the same — smiling and lively, full of warmth, so that anyone who laid eyes on her could not help but feel their mood lift. Once Ming Huashang had gone in through the door, the curtain fell back in place, and warmth and lamplight were instantly shut away. Xie Jichuan stood in the corridor looking at the glow within — so close, and yet so far from him.

Xie Jichuan stood alone in the wind. Then the curtain shifted, and warm light spilled once more through the gap. Li Huazhang stood sideways in the halo of light and said: “You’ve had a hard journey. Come in for a cup of hot tea at least — otherwise you’ll have good cause to complain about how cold Shangzhou is.”

His gaze was clear and open. It was plain that he understood perfectly well why Xie Jichuan had stopped at the threshold. Men are always acutely sensitive to such things. Both of them understood what lay in the other’s heart, and there had even been a time when they carried a quiet animosity between them — but Xie Jichuan had still made the journey all this way to warn Li Huazhang to declare his independence, even though Li Huazhang had refused. And Li Huazhang had extended his hand first, his manner exactly as it had always been, as though they were still simply friends.

Xie Jichuan stood there in the dark, folded into silence for a long while. Li Huazhang waited for him with patient stillness. In the end, Xie Jichuan moved, and slowly stepped through the door. Inside, Ming Huashang had already set out refreshments and tea, and greeted him with a bright smile: “Come sit — taste Shangzhou’s specialty tea leaves. I added some sweet osmanthus flowers to the brew — it calms the mind and soothes the spirit. The water is melted snow I gathered myself, from the snowfall a few days ago — still fresh.”

Xie Jichuan settled himself at the table, and the scene before him brought a momentary sense of unreality. It felt as though he had lived through this exact moment once before — another snowy night, another case involving a death, and Ming Huashang melting snow to brew tea and saying very nearly the same words.

In a flash, so many years had passed, and so much had happened — two emperors had come and gone — while every person was swept up and tossed about in the torrent of fate. And yet she had not changed in the slightest. Xie Jichuan suddenly realized that all the things he had been tied up in knots about were in fact of little consequence. Ming Huashang might or might not be aware — but as long as Li Huazhang regarded him as a friend, Ming Huashang would treat him as an elder brother’s companion.

Many things had, in truth, never changed. To her, he had always been, and would always be, nothing more than a friend of her second elder brother.

Xie Jichuan had once reproached himself for being passive and helpless — wondering if he had taken the initiative to act at some point, whether the outcome might have been different. But throughout everything he had never taken that one step beyond friendship. Was that not fate’s way of delivering its answer to him long in advance?

Ming Huashang’s kindness toward him arose solely because he was Li Huazhang’s friend. From the moment Crown Prince Zhanghuai decided to entrust the infant Li Huazhang to Duke Zhenguo and not to Xie Shen, the bond between Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang was already fated — these two would become the one irreplaceable presence in each other’s lives. And the reason Crown Prince Zhanghuai had chosen Duke Zhenguo to raise his son was perhaps because Xie Shen had urged the Crown Prince to have the Empress Consort killed.

Xie Shen had grown up in a great aristocratic family, and everything he had seen and learned from childhood placed the primacy of interests above all else — before power, personal feelings carried no weight whatsoever. A man of cold temperament and clear head makes an excellent strategist, but is entirely unsuited to raising a child.

Fate was a serpent biting its own tail — cause and consequence were long since fixed. Even if Xie Jichuan had tried to pursue something different, the result would not have changed. Because he bore the name Xie, and she bore the name Ming — and Ming Huashang would not have been drawn to a version of him raised in the Xie household.

The feeling was difficult to put into words. Though Xie Jichuan still had a lingering reluctance to let go, he found, in a strange way, that he had come to terms with it. Xie Jichuan finally put on his signature polite smile and said: “It seems I am in for a treat. All that’s missing is Ren Yao, and it would be just like it was at Feihong Manor.”

Li Huazhang shot him a cold look: “Say something auspicious.”

Ming Huashang was entirely undisturbed: “What’s so hard about that? Some other time, we’ll invite Elder Sister Ren — I’ll brew another pot then. Oh, and there’s Jiang Ling and Elder Sister Yu Ji too — we can invite them all.”

Li Huazhang turned his tea cup without committing to an opinion. Xie Jichuan smiled crookedly: “Ren Yao is indeed heading toward Shangzhou — but whether she’d still want to sit and drink tea with us is another question entirely.”

Ming Huashang blinked and tilted her head toward Li Huazhang. Li Huazhang explained for her: “The situation in Chang’an is tense. The Empress does not trust Prince Qiao and has dispatched troops to garrison Junzhou — the commander of those forces is Ren Yao.”

Ming Huashang understood at once. Ming Yuji’s letter had mentioned that Ren Yao was highly favored by Empress Wei — and it turned out she had been favored to this extent. Ming Huashang remained entirely unperturbed and said: “Elder Sister Ren will certainly come. If Elder Sister Ren is heading to Junzhou, then what about Jiang Ling?”

Neither Li Huazhang nor Xie Jichuan was particularly concerned, and Xie Jichuan said: “Who knows. Ren Yao at least has an imperial command she cannot refuse. Jiang Ling isn’t foolish enough to come running out here to serve as cannon fodder on a battlefield, is he?”

Ming Huashang raised an eyebrow and did not pursue the topic, but she said with quiet certainty, almost to herself: “He’ll definitely come.”

As they talked, two cups of tea went down, and the faint, persistent ache in Xie Jichuan’s stomach that had plagued him throughout finally began to ease. Once Ming Huashang saw that both men — who had been rushing about through the night — had relaxed a little, she eased them into the more pressing matters at hand.

Ming Huashang quietly asked about the fate of Dong Hai and his people, as well as what had been happening in Chang’an. In turn, she gave as concise an account as she could of how Wei Zhu had committed the crimes. When Xie Jichuan heard Wei Zhu’s killing plan, he was thoroughly fascinated by the person. Li Huazhang said: “I noticed the needle under the saddle and began to suspect the real cause of the old Feng patriarch’s death. I was worried we might not be in time — but fortunately you found it. As expected, solving cases is your domain.”

“Hardly,” Ming Huashang said. “You could call it our tacit understanding. If you and Xie Jichuan hadn’t brought Dong Hai and his people to justice, even if I had caught Wei Zhu, the case wouldn’t be fully resolved. One cannot only arrest the desperate person pushed to the breaking point while letting the true originator of the tragedy go unpunished.”

Li Huazhang looked at her and smiled with warmth: “It was precisely because you were here in Shangzhou that I was confident you would catch the culprit — and it was that confidence which let me focus entirely on going after the bandits.”

Xie Jichuan looked on as these two talked, and found himself unexpectedly thinking back to the fireworks he had seen from outside the city. When he had quietly slipped away from Chang’an and made the long journey to Shangzhou with no food or proper rest, it had never once occurred to him that Li Huazhang would refuse. What rational person could look at such a prime opportunity to seize the throne and remain entirely unmoved?

And yet Li Huazhang was utterly unmoved. Ming Huashang had not consulted Li Huazhang at all before releasing the Xuan Xiaowei mobilization fireworks — because she already knew he would not leave.

Just as Li Huazhang had entrusted the better part of Xuan Xiaowei authority to Ming Huashang with full confidence — because he also knew that Ming Huashang would not abuse it.

Xie Jichuan looked at the devoted and trusting couple before him, and his mood sank in a way he could not quite explain. He asked: “What do you plan to do with Wei Zhu?”

“I thought this through long ago,” Ming Huashang said. “She is pitiable, but that is one matter and this is another — a person who kills must face punishment. We can write to the Court of Judicial Review and explain her circumstances in full, and whether any leniency can be shown in the sentencing is for the Court to decide.”

Li Huazhang said: “I’ll write the letter. During my time as Jing Zhaoyiin, I had some dealings with the Presiding Judge of the Court of Judicial Review. But in these troubled times, with the Wei faction in control, it’s hard to say whether the Court can function normally at all. It would be better to keep Wei Zhu detained here in the official residence and wait until the situation in Chang’an stabilizes before sending the case files to Chang’an.”

Ming Huashang agreed, then asked: “And what about Prince Qiao and the Feng household?”

The three of them, once seated together, had by unspoken agreement been avoiding political matters — but in the end they could not escape them. Prince Qiao would not stop planning a rebellion just because they were unwilling to face it, and sooner or later the flames of war would reach Shangzhou. All three of them had the sense that this day was not far off.

Li Huazhang was quiet for a moment, then said: “It’s very late tonight — you’ve both been exhausted all day. Let’s rest first. These matters can wait until tomorrow, once everyone is rested and clear-headed.”

It was already past midnight, and no matter how thorny the business, it could wait a little longer. Both Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan accepted this silently. Xie Jichuan was the first to rise and take his leave. Once he had gone, Ming Huashang looked at Li Huazhang with concern: “Second Elder Brother, with you not returning to Chang’an — will everything be all right on that end?”

Her gaze was earnest and sincere, entirely invested in concern for him. Li Huazhang felt a warmth move through him. He took Ming Huashang’s hand and said: “It will be fine. A gentleman acts where he should and refrains where he should not. Now that I am in Shangzhou, I cannot turn a blind eye to a rebellion in Junzhou. If this moment passes me by, then perhaps it simply means that seat was never meant for me — and there is nothing to regret in that.”

He smiled quietly and said in a low voice: “Besides, I never wanted that seat to begin with. Everything I do comes from my own true heart — not from any desire to seize the throne.”

“As luck would have it — I have no interest in becoming Empress either.” Ming Huashang laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I have always hated competing with others for anything. What is the most exalted position any woman in the realm could hold — how could that compare to having a husband who belongs only to me? You think we should stay, so we’ll stay. I’ve already issued the mobilization order. Tomorrow we’ll go to the base and see how many have answered. However many come, I will stand beside you. If we succeed, we’ll go back to the Eastern Capital together to see the peonies bloom. If we don’t — then we’ll be buried here in Shangzhou together.”

No explanations were needed. She already understood his choice completely. He asked nothing of her in terms of the three obediences and four virtues, and let her live freely by the dictates of her own heart — and she was willing to follow his decisions, to the end of the line, without asking after glory or riches.

Li Huazhang reached out and gently stroked Ming Huashang’s hair. His voice was low and trembling with feeling: “All right.”

·

The next morning, the wind that had blown all night finally died down. Snow clung to the branches, still as a painting. Li Huazhang rose not long after dawn and heard a soldier report that Dong Hai’s body had been found. Without disturbing Ming Huashang, he mounted his horse immediately and rode out of the city.

Before a stretch of rocky shallows, the icy river surged eastward, and a man’s body lay face-down on the stones, covered in bloodstains, with a broken arrow shaft still visible in his back. Li Huazhang picked his way across the stones and stepped up, turning the body over for a look, then said to the soldiers: “It’s Dong Hai. Has he been searched?”

“Yes, everything he had on him is in here.”

Li Huazhang took the bundle handed to him. Inside were a soaked piece of cloth, a letter whose writing was too blurred to read, a few strings of copper coins, and several odds and ends of weapons. He asked: “Is this everything?”

“Prefect, by the time we followed the river here, he had already been washed up onto this shallows. These items were found in his clothes. His personal pack we don’t know where the water carried it off to.”

Dong Hai’s personal pack was gone — which meant the Marquis Pearl was lost as well. The soldier, noticing that the Prefect kept gazing at the river, asked: “Prefect, should we dredge the nearby waterways?”

Shangzhou was mountainous country, and being in the upper reaches, the river here moved with extreme speed — only when it reached Junzhou further downstream would it slow and grow calmer. This was already more than a hundred li from where Dong Hai had jumped from the cliff, with numerous rapids and underground channels between here and there. Where could one even begin to search for a single small pearl?

In the days of old, the Marquis of Sui possessed the Pearl and the King of Chu destroyed the state of Sui; Chu hoarded its treasures and the powerful state of Qin attacked Chu. Now even the mighty Qin had been swallowed by the dust of history, yet the Marquis Pearl continued to pass from hand to hand, driving its every owner to the ruin of their fortune and household. Now it had followed a mountain bandit into the rushing river. Perhaps it would be picked up by chance by some passerby and raised once more to a throne of honor; or perhaps it would sink forever to the bottom of the river, a bright pearl buried in dust.

Perhaps to return to the vast embrace of the natural world, unsullied by right and wrong — that was its finest resting place of all.

Li Huazhang said mildly: “No need. Have Dong Hai’s body attended to.”

The soldiers nodded and were about to carry the body away for burial when Li Huazhang suddenly called out: “Wait.”

The soldiers stopped. Li Huazhang looked back in the direction of Shangzhou city, then followed the flow of the river as it stretched away downstream, and asked: “Following this river down from here — that leads to Junzhou, doesn’t it?”

The soldiers were puzzled, and one answered: “Yes. But the waterway is treacherous — there are whirlpools in some stretches, and only a very few seasoned hands dare to ferry on it. Most people travel by land.”

Li Huazhang gave a slow nod, staring at the river in thought for a moment, then said: “Hire a cart from the surrounding villages, wrap Dong Hai’s body carefully, and bring it back to the official residence.”

The soldiers exchanged puzzled looks, not understanding what the Prefect meant to do. They responded with bewilderment: “Yes, sir.”

Li Huazhang returned to the official residence and happened upon Xie Jichuan — who had evidently just finished his morning grooming and was taking a leisurely stroll. Xie Jichuan saw the dust on the hem of Li Huazhang’s robe and drawled: “Well, someone was out attending to official business at this hour — I thought you’d run off.”

Li Huazhang cast him a flat look and just barely held his tongue. Xie Jichuan still had that infuriating manner about him, standing with his hands tucked in his sleeves watching everyone else rushing about, and remarking: “Isn’t that a mountain bandit? What are you having his body frozen for?”

Li Huazhang had no patience to spare for certain individuals who contributed nothing, and after instructing the coroner to keep watch over Dong Hai’s body, he walked briskly toward the rear quarters: “Where is Princess?”

“She’s already up — in the back courtyard.”

Li Huazhang was just heading out through the gate when he came face to face with Ming Huashang walking over. The moment he saw her he said quickly: “Don’t run — the ground is slippery.”

Ming Huashang, bundled up like a little rabbit, came bounding over to his side and glanced past him: “Dong Hai has been found?”

“Yes.” Li Huazhang came down the steps quickly to catch her, and asked gently: “Have you had breakfast yet?”

Xie Jichuan came ambling over from behind, and let out a short sound of contempt: “I haven’t eaten either — how come no one’s asking about me?”

A twitch ran through Li Huazhang’s brow and his patience was pushed very close to its limit. Ming Huashang laughed and said: “Perfect timing — I know a place that does a particularly wonderful breakfast. My treat today. The only thing is, their shop gets crowded, so we shouldn’t attract attention — you’ll need to change into ordinary clothes.”

A short while later, Xie Jichuan sat in the establishment Ming Huashang had mentioned and lifted the bamboo curtain to look down at the ground floor, remarking: “This place really does a brisk trade — and not only in food. There are quite a few lodgers too, a great many of them even this early.”

And every one of them was a wind-worn, sharp-eyed, vigilant-looking figure. Ming Huashang poured three cups of tea and said: “Year’s end is a busy season — brisk business is a good thing. Give the proprietor our congratulations. Now, what would you like to eat?”

Xie Jichuan let out a soft scoff. He knew there must be a reason Ming Huashang had suddenly offered to treat them — and sure enough, it had just been a pretext to come to the Xuan Xiaowei’s base of operations. He let the curtain fall back and said without particular concern: “Whatever our host decides.”

Li Huazhang needless to say — he had always left things to Ming Huashang’s preference, so she ordered freely from what she liked. Before long, a steaming hot breakfast was brought to the table. Xie Jichuan bit into a soup dumpling and was genuinely startled: “It’s actually good?”

“Of course,” Ming Huashang said, affronted, standing on her dignity: “The Xuan Xiaowei cooks train in knife skills and cooking both — don’t look down on people.”

As Ming Huashang spoke, Li Huazhang had already prepared her condiments and set them quietly at her side, each one exactly the kind she liked. The three of them ate and observed the crowd on the floor below. Xie Jichuan made a rough estimate and said: “I had assumed that in a remote posting like Shangzhou, the turnout would be small. But it’s not bad — just in this brief stretch, there are already ten people. Though against a rebellion, it’s still a drop in the ocean.”

Li Huazhang passed Ming Huashang a cloth and said mildly: “The Xuan Xiaowei excels at gathering intelligence, extracting information, making arrests, and carrying out targeted operations. They were never meant for open battlefield warfare.”

“But taking a fortified city still requires soldiers — and trained, elite soldiers at that.” Xie Jichuan asked: “How many troops does Shangzhou have?”

Both Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang fell silent, which made it clear enough that the number was not encouraging. Xie Jichuan, still holding onto no real hope, had already stopped expecting anything from this situation: “You two really won’t come back to Chang’an with me? While Prince Qiao hasn’t raised his troops yet, there is still time to leave.”

Ming Huashang was about to reply when she was overcome by a strange, inexplicable pull — cutting through the clamor of the busy hall below, she seemed somehow to hear a particular voice at the front counter: “Two rooms. Get a physician — quickly.”

A feeling stirred within her and she lifted the bamboo curtain. The person below happened to look up at the same moment, and their eyes met directly. Ming Huashang pressed her lips together quietly and said: “Never mind — we can’t go back to Chang’an anymore.”

In the guestroom, the physician finished packing away the bloodied wrappings, left instructions for the medicine, and stepped out. Li Huazhang closed the door and glanced at the person on the other side of the folding screen and asked: “How did you end up in Shangzhou?”

“Yes.” Ming Huashang had been barely able to contain herself and pressed eagerly: “Elder Sister, what brings you here? Where is Father?”

Ming Yuji gulped down two cups of tea in quick succession and let out a long, heavy sigh: “It’s a long story.”