Half a month earlier, at the Zhenguo Ducal Residence in Chang’an.

The situation grew more tense with each passing day. It had begun with garrison troops stationed within the city — now even the city gates were sealed. Ming Yuji watched in silence as Empress Wei and Princess Anle made their moves. The meritorious officials of the Shenlong Coup were being demoted or expelled one by one; at this point, everyone wielding power in Chang’an was a member of the Wei clan or one of Princess Anle’s favorites. At the rate they were carrying on, they would eventually bring about their own ruin.

But before that happened, Ming Yuji first had to keep the Zhenguo Ducal Residence afloat. With Empress Wei and Princess Anle in control, the chaos in Chang’an would only worsen. Ming Yuji had ordered her people to stockpile grain, meat, and poultry at the first signs of trouble — but looking at the situation now, she had not stockpiled nearly enough.

This was where having grown up in a farming village showed its advantages. In that enormous ducal residence, no one knew food and grain like she did. Ming Yuji drew up a list and dispatched a trusted aide to go out and purchase supplies. The group did not return until half a day later. Ming Yuji went personally to inspect the goods, and asked: “What took you so long? Was the grain selected by the method I specified?”

After she spoke, she sensed something was not quite right about the servant driving the cart. Before she could look more carefully, the person had already raised his head, revealing a face she knew as well as her own: “Ming First Young Mistress — it’s me.”

Ming Yuji saw who it was and paused almost imperceptibly before composedly dismissing the others. In this half-year, Ming Yuji had not been idle — anyone in the Zhenguo Ducal Residence with divided loyalties had been quietly sent away; those who remained were all her people, so she had no fear of Su Xingzhi being seen.

It had been a long time since they last met, and Ming Yuji did not know what expression to put on, so she could only say with forced coolness: “Why have you come?”

“I apologize. The situation developed urgently, and there are too many watchers posted outside the Zhenguo Ducal Residence — I could only come to see you this way.” Su Xingzhi looked at her, and he too averted his eyes. “I was entrusted with a message — to convey certain words to you… and to Duke Zhenguo.”

So it was not her he had come for. Ming Yuji’s expression went cold. “My father is in the front hall,” she said. “I’ll have someone take you there.”

“No need.” Duke Zhenguo appeared from behind the shrubbery at some point, walking over slowly with his hands clasped behind his back. “I came to check on how many stores the residence still has, and found the two of you here instead. Thank you for making the journey, Su gentleman — please come inside.”

Su Xingzhi quickly paid his respects to the Duke: “I dare not accept such courtesy. I have already been suspended by the Censorate and am nothing but a man of leisure now. Address me by my given name, Your Grace. I won’t take long — I’ll say what I have to say here.”

Duke Zhenguo, always courteous, inquired after the circumstances of Su Xingzhi’s suspension, and upon learning that he had been dismissed for impeaching Princess Anle for selling official appointments, could only sigh and give Su Xingzhi a pat on the shoulder. Ming Yuji, however, felt a pang within her and said coldly: “You had to go prying into things that weren’t your business, and now look — serves you right.”

“Da Niang, do not be rude,” Duke Zhenguo said, mildly reproving Ming Yuji. Then he asked: “Su gentleman, may I ask who entrusted you with this message?”

“Marquis Pingnan.” Su Xingzhi grew serious and said: “She found me today and said that Empress Wei intends to dispatch troops to garrison Junzhou. She had urged the Empress against it, but the Empress was set upon sending forces to Junzhou, and she had no choice but to volunteer herself to personally lead the troops there. The military order was issued with great urgency — the Empress wants her to set out tomorrow. And given her sensitive position, she cannot make contact with the Zhenguo Ducal Residence, so she has asked me to convey this to you on her behalf. The imperial command cannot be defied, but she will absolutely not move against Prince of Yong or Second Young Mistress Ming.”

“Garrison Junzhou?” Ming Yuji’s expression hardened and her voice rose in fury. “The Empress is deliberately provoking Prince Qiao into rebellion. Prince of Yong and Second Sister are right there in Shangzhou nearby — if Junzhou erupts into rebellion, what will happen to them?”

Su Xingzhi was a remonstrance official and was not supposed to speak out freely on matters of court — but he still could not stop himself from cautioning Ming Yuji: “Perhaps this is precisely what the Empress intends. When the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman gains.”

Ming Yuji let out a cold laugh: “She grows more and more shameless with every passing day. Without Li Huazhang, would they have made it safely back to Chang’an? It was Li Huazhang who forced Emperor Zetian to abdicate, and it was Li Huazhang who accompanied her on her final journey. They owe so much to Li Huazhang, and yet they still have the gall to play the fisherman?”

She was still as blunt and fierce as ever, refusing to bend. Su Xingzhi’s expression turned helpless and he said: “Yu — First Young Mistress Ming, please be careful with your words. You must not speak disrespectfully of the Empress. She may well be Empress Dowager before long.”

Ming Yuji’s brow twitched. Casting aside whatever tangled feelings lay between them for a moment, she stared straight at Su Xingzhi: “What do you mean?”

Su Xingzhi had, after all, spent his career in the Censorate — even after being dismissed by Princess Anle, his sources were more reliable than those of the Zhenguo Ducal Residence, which had been under surveillance for so long. To say more would be to cross a line he could not cross; Su Xingzhi lowered his eyes, but the implication was unmistakably clear. Duke Zhenguo set aside his genial ease, and gazing out at the sky — gray and heavy as a slab of lead — he murmured with a long sigh: “When she was alive, everyone despised her. Now that she has finally fallen, everyone wishes to become her. The world plays strange tricks.”

Su Xingzhi did not know what he could say, so he tried to offer some reassurance: “Duke, be at ease. The troops are led by Marquis Pingnan — Prince of Yong and his wife are certain to return safely.”

“I have never doubted Marquis Pingnan for a moment. I have met the young woman — she is a kind and capable young lady, as fierce and soft-hearted under that hard exterior as Da Niang herself. I trust that she is not that sort of person.” Duke Zhenguo said, sighing again: “But on the battlefield, in the heat of a moment, the tide can turn in an instant. Once the fighting starts, what power does any human hand have to control it?”

Ming Yuji’s heart was on fire. She trusted without doubt that Ren Yao would do nothing to harm Li Huazhang or Ming Huashang — but what of the other soldiers under Ren Yao’s command? Ren Yao led infantry; their march would be slow. By the time she entered Junzhou territory, Prince Qiao would certainly have already received word. Li Huazhang, caught between two forces with no room to turn, would be under assault from both sides. Of course Ming Yuji did not care whether Li Huazhang lived or died — but that stubborn, thick-headed Ming Huashang would certainly not abandon Li Huazhang and leave on her own.

Ming Yuji was also aware that Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang had Xuan Xiaowei, so they would not be completely in the dark about events in Chang’an. But in the past several days the city had been sealed, cutting even Xuan Xiaowei’s channels of communication — and what if they had not yet learned that the Emperor had suddenly died and that Empress Wei was on the verge of moving against them?

Who dared gamble on that “what if”?

The more Ming Yuji thought, the more frantic she grew — she would have liked to sprout wings and fly to Shangzhou that very instant. War was imminent, and the sooner they received word, the greater their advantage. If even after hearing the news those two were still unwilling to leave, at least she could help them kill a few enemies if it came to fighting. But if she left, what would happen to Duke Zhenguo?

Duke Zhenguo was getting on in years and his leg ailment had been growing worse — he walked with great difficulty. During the Zhongjun Coup, Prince Liang had been killed by unruly soldiers who rushed into his residence. The Ming household was closely bound to Prince of Yong, and Empress Wei might well resort to a desperate gamble and take Duke Zhenguo hostage. If something truly happened to him while she was not in the residence…

Ming Yuji’s heart was as though being seared in boiling oil — on one side, a conflict that could ignite at any moment and a sister alone in a faraway place; on the other, an aging father, a vulnerable residence teetering on the edge of danger. She was torn in two directions and could not decide what to do.

Duke Zhenguo could see what Ming Yuji was weighing in her mind and said: “Da Niang, do whatever you need to do. The great upheaval is coming, and the world will be hard — but it is also a time when heroes rise. Both you and Second Sister are already caught up in this affair. To take the initiative and strike is the only way to break free.”

Ming Yuji looked at the Duke, pressed her lips together, and finally said through clenched teeth: “I’ll send word to them by someone I trust. Second Sister will understand. Li Huazhang has a functioning brain and should be able to get through this crisis safely. If he can’t even manage that, my going won’t accomplish anything either. I’ll stay at the residence and do what needs to be done here.”

But Ming Yuji also knew that the messenger was only human — prone to exhaustion, to being bought off, to cowardice when faced with danger. Only if she went herself could she be truly certain. She knew Chang’an’s grain and commodity prices, knew the movements of the great families these past six months, knew every blade of grass in the Zhenguo Ducal Residence — none of this could be conveyed adequately even in the longest letter.

Su Xingzhi, seeing Ming Yuji’s dilemma, offered of his own accord: “If the Duke trusts me, I am willing to go to Shangzhou in your place and inform Prince of Yong and Princess of Yong.”

Ming Yuji shot Su Xingzhi a sharp, displeased look: “What does it have to do with you — it’s the Ming family’s business!”

Su Xingzhi knew Ming Yuji meant those words sincerely, yet he was still stung by the phrase “what does it have to do with you.” Duke Zhenguo’s expression hardened and he spoke with added emphasis: “Da Niang, that was rude.”

Ming Yuji had barely gotten the words out when she realized she had said too much — that was not what she had meant at all. She pressed her lips together, too stubborn and unwilling to say another word, but without realizing it her eyes grew red. Duke Zhenguo sighed softly, and first said to Su Xingzhi: “I am grateful for Su gentleman’s kindness. But you are also the only son of the Su family — I cannot allow you to face this risk.”

Su Xingzhi could not hold back: “But for Yu Ji to go is even more dangerous. Why should she be the one who has to take the risk simply because she is the elder sister?”

Su Xingzhi’s words were frankly quite presumptuous — but he said them anyway. Duke Zhenguo was understood to favor the younger daughter, Ming Huashang, and the adopted son, Prince of Yong, whom he had raised himself — this was only natural. But Ming Yuji was flesh and blood too. There was no reason that for Li Huazhang’s sake and Ming Huashang’s sake, Ming Yuji should always be the one to sacrifice.

Yet Duke Zhenguo took no offense. Instead, he said: “You are right. I have already failed Da Niang greatly in many ways. My deepest wish is that she never leave the Zhenguo Ducal Residence, that she spend her life cosseted and cherished, shielded from every breath of wind and drop of rain. But my daughters are more than just my children, more than simply young women — they are each their own independent person. If they wish to be swallows nesting under the eaves, I will spend my life shielding them from the storm; if they choose to be eagles soaring in the sky, then I as their father must also learn to let go, and let them find their own stretch of sky.”

Duke Zhenguo walked slowly up to Ming Yuji and gave her a pat on the shoulder — friend to friend, man to man — and said with great sincerity: “Yuji, your mother gave you this name hoping you would be like water — yielding yet relentless, capable of enduring, always able to emerge from the storm into clear skies. Do what you must do. I’ll manage things at the residence, and no one will know you’re gone. Whatever you set out to do, go and do it — and your three children should all come home safe.”

Ming Yuji had been back in this family for so long now, and though she had gradually come to accept Duke Zhenguo as her father, there was always a part of her that felt — quietly, without letting it show — that his love was greater for Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang than for her. She had accepted this without complaint and tried not to dwell on it, doing what a daughter should do. But now, looking into Duke Zhenguo’s eyes, she realized her father loved her just as much.

It was the love she had yearned for since childhood — growing up dependent on others’ charity, always uncertain, never able to express it, but always, always longing for it.

Ming Yuji’s eyes went hot without warning. She felt a slight loss for what to do, and bowed her head with an awkward, unguarded vulnerability, her nose prickling: “I’m not worried about that. It’s Empress Wei and Princess Anle who got where they are through illegitimate means — I’m worried they’ll be driven into a corner and drag everyone else down with them.”

Duke Zhenguo paused — then burst out laughing. These years, since he had come back to the family, he spent every day at home tending his flowers and experimenting with recipes, no longer involving himself in court affairs, looking in every way like an ordinary old man. But now he threw his head back in laughter, the open resolve in his expression striking a note of pure fortitude, and one was reminded at last that he had been a near companion of the Crown Prince in his youth, that he had lived through the secret substitution of the infant Li Huazhang, through Empress Wu’s ascent to the throne, through round after round of bloody inquisitions and purges, and had held on all the way until the restoration of the Li Tang dynasty. Among the old officials who had survived to this day from the Yonghui era, which one of them was an ordinary person?

When his laughter subsided, Duke Zhenguo looked at his eldest daughter — returned to him after so many lost years — and said with a gravity in his voice: “I may have lived these years doing nothing of particular use, but I am not so easily pushed around. The storms we came through in those years were far worse than this, and not once did we fail to turn the danger aside. I have some experience dealing with these kinds of situations — go out with an easy mind. Even in the worst case, I Ming Huaiyuān can still pick up a blade and fight. I will not let anyone slaughter me like a lamb. It is actually he and your sister who are in a position where a single misstep brings a dozen more — your going to Shangzhou means one more person to help them think and plan. You three children being safe and well is the only thing that will truly set my heart at ease.”

Ming Yuji looked at Duke Zhenguo, several times starting to say something and stopping herself. Duke Zhenguo’s gaze was patient and accepting, like a lighthouse that would never be extinguished — no matter what happened, always standing on the shore to guide them home. Ming Yuji could not put her feelings into words, so she made a deep and full bow: “Your daughter is unfilial — in a time of crisis, I cannot attend to you at your side. I must also trouble you to cover for my absence. I beg Father to take care of himself. I will — bring them both home safely.”

Su Xingzhi’s expression showed a trace of shame. He had feared Ming Yuji would be treated poorly when she returned to the residence, and seeing that Duke Zhenguo was sending Ming Yuji on a journey of thousands of li to Shangzhou, he had instinctively assumed it was the Duke’s partiality. But those words could not be faked — Su Xingzhi could see that everything just spoken had come from the Duke’s true heart. In that light, it was he who had become the villain. Su Xingzhi bowed to Duke Zhenguo and said apologetically: “Your Grace, I ask your forgiveness. Just now I misjudged a gentleman’s heart — I misread Your Grace. Da Niang was right: this is the Zhenguo Ducal Residence’s own family matter, and I should not have spoken out of turn.”

Duke Zhenguo said: “Please don’t speak so, Su gentleman. The fact that you could say those things shows you are genuinely concerned for Da Niang’s wellbeing — I am glad to know it. Da Niang speaks bluntly, but always out of good intent — if she gave any offense, I ask your forbearance.”

Su Xingzhi laughed inwardly at himself: had he truly become someone Ming Yuji now needed to be courteous with? How could he possibly hold anything against Yuji?

She was flourishing in the Ming family. She had a father who truly loved her, a thoughtful and broad-minded younger sister and brother-in-law. He should be happy for her. And precisely because of that, he could all the less afford to let anything happen to the Zhenguo Ducal Residence, or to Prince of Yong.

Su Xingzhi made up his mind and said: “I thank Your Grace for your generosity. I take my leave — Da Niang, take care on the road, and come home safe.”

Su Xingzhi gave a proper bow to Duke Zhenguo and Ming Yuji in turn, then changed back into his servant’s disguise and slipped out through the side gate. Duke Zhenguo saw the look on Ming Yuji’s face — surprise, anger, and something else underneath that looked like loss — and sighed softly: “If you are unwilling to part with him, why not say so?”

At this subject, Ming Yuji felt another surge of irritation. She covered over the ache at the bottom of her heart with a mask of indifference, and said: “He didn’t even ask how I was getting away — just told me to take care on the road. What’s there to say to him? I’m going back to pack my things, I need to leave tonight, I’ll head out first.”

Duke Zhenguo watched his eldest daughter walk away at a brisk pace and sighed a long sigh in his heart. Daughters, once grown, brought their own kinds of trouble. Ming Huashang — who had chased after a young man of her own accord — was one kind of worry. Ming Yuji — who kept everything locked inside, too proud to face her own feelings — was a different kind entirely.

Truth be told, he thought Su Xingzhi was quite good: upright in his conduct, solid in his work, and in private remarkably patient — taking Ming Yuji’s every outburst in stride without a trace of resentment. His prospects were excellent too. And most importantly — his feelings for Yuji were sincere.

But let it be. Children had their own paths, and their own fortunes. The affairs of children — let the children sort themselves out.

·

Ming Huashang, hearing that Duke Zhenguo was unharmed, finally let out her breath in relief. She looked toward the bed, where Su Xingzhi was still running a high fever, and asked: “Then how did Xie Jichuan — that is, how did Su Jichuan get injured?”

Ming Yuji let out a long, low sigh and said: “He was injured protecting me. After I said farewell to Father, I set about arranging my way out of the city immediately. I learned that a grain transport cart was to leave the city that night, knocked out one of the soldiers, changed into his uniform, and slipped in among the escort party. On the way, I encountered an inspection patrol and was nearly discovered — fortunately they were drawn away by a commotion in the street, and I got through the city gate without disaster. Afterward I found an opportunity to break away. I had originally worried that once the knocked-out soldier came to, pursuit troops might be sent after me — but all the way there was nothing but silence. I assumed it was just my good luck that no one had noticed. Who would have thought…”

Ming Yuji looked at Su Xingzhi, her expression complicated: “He had been following behind me, taking care of the pursuit troops on my behalf. At the city gate, too — it was his deliberate distraction that drew away the inspection patrol. He had already taken a wound during those moves to shake off the patrol, and then continued to cover for me the whole way, so his injuries kept getting worse. If I hadn’t sensed someone tracking me and doubled back to check, I don’t know how long he would have gone on hiding it from me.”

Su Xingzhi, faintly catching Ming Yuji’s voice through the haze of his fever, struggled against it and forced himself awake, trying to push himself up: “This was my own decision — it has nothing to do with you…”

Ming Yuji startled and quickly moved to steady him: “Don’t move — your wound was just dressed, you cannot tear it open again.”

Everyone bustled about in a flurry, and with some effort got Su Xingzhi settled again. Li Huazhang was deeply troubled by this, saying: “It is my fault. Had it not been for me, none of you would have needed to risk your lives coming to Shangzhou, and Su Xingzhi would not have been injured like this.”

Ming Yuji was applying a damp cloth to Su Xingzhi’s forehead to bring his fever down, and gave Li Huazhang a cool, sideways look: “Don’t flatter yourself — I came for Second Sister. It has nothing to do with you. If you truly feel bad about it, stabilize Shangzhou and stop making Father worry. That’s what you should be doing.”

Ming Huashang took Ming Yuji’s hand in hers and said gently: “Elder Sister, don’t be anxious — Xie Jichuan will be fine, and Shangzhou will be fine too. We’ll figure something out together. Second Elder Brother — Elder Sister’s words come out a bit sharp, but she means well.”

Li Huazhang was not in the least put out by it: “I understand.”

Knowing a person is not about what they say but about what they do. On the strength alone of Ming Yuji’s courage in risking her life to come a thousand li and deliver word to them, Li Huazhang would not take issue with anything she said, however blunt.

Xie Jichuan watched coolly as Ming Huashang threaded back and forth between everyone, smoothing over frictions and bridging tensions, until within a short time both Ming Yuji and Li Huazhang were perfectly mollified and at ease. Xie Jichuan thought to himself with quiet wonder — he had always known Ming Huashang had a gift for words, but today, as a bystander, he felt the full force of just how extraordinary her social acuity truly was.

At a casual glance, Ming Huashang was the most unremarkable of the group. And yet precisely because being around her required no effort from anyone, every single person was willing to tell her what was truly in their hearts — and every person felt, in their own way, that they had a closer bond with Ming Huashang than with anyone else. Without anyone quite noticing, she had become the member of the group with the least visible presence yet the most indispensable role.

Han Jie had been right. Ming Huashang was the finest Xuan Xiaowei of all — silently and imperceptibly, every single person had already been drawn into her orbit.

After waiting for Su Xingzhi’s condition to stabilize, Ming Huashang moved to the outer room and carefully inquired about the affairs of the Zhenguo Ducal Residence. When she learned that the Duke’s residence was uncomfortable but otherwise intact, she let out a genuinely long breath of relief. She then asked about the situation in the capital, though she tried to keep it brief, since Xie Jichuan had already given one account. Gathering intelligence, after all, was never a matter of too much information.

Ming Yuji described the movements of Chang’an’s various factions, which aligned broadly with what Xie Jichuan had said — differing in emphasis and detail rather than in substance. But Ming Huashang noticed one particular point: “You said the imperial cavalry troops do not seem to be loyal to the Wei family?”

“Yes,” Ming Yuji said. “When I was disguised as one of the escort soldiers, I walked with them for a stretch and inadvertently heard quite a lot. They have considerable grievances toward the Wei family. Wei Yuan and the others were parachuted into command of the imperial cavalry with no prior military background whatsoever. These men live and eat outside the barracks, have never served in the armed forces a day in their lives, and yet throw their weight around at every opportunity — and when the soldiers can’t do what they demand, they order men to be flogged. It’s not just the lower-ranking soldiers — even the middle-level officers are suffering.”

Empress Wei, in blindly copying Emperor Zetian’s playbook, had evidently failed to understand that simply replacing a general with one of her own people did not make that army obedient to her will.

Ming Huashang suddenly recalled that Emperor Zetian had once said, with an almost casual air: those who learn from me live; those who merely imitate me die. At the time it had seemed like nothing in particular — but thinking back on it now, the words sent a chill through her.

All of this unfolding now — was it something Emperor Zetian had foreseen long ago? Even in death, her presence seemed to linger above the Tang dynasty like a spirit, invisibly shaping the turns of the court.

Ming Huashang let out a quiet breath and pulled herself together: “Chang’an is beyond our reach from here. Let us first think about what is near. Prince Qiao will not have heard back from the Feng household, and sooner or later he will guess that his plan has been exposed. The siege of Shangzhou is close at hand. What are we going to do?”

Ming Yuji had known before she came that Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang would not abandon an entire city of people to save themselves. She had not even tried to persuade Ming Huashang otherwise, but went straight to the point: “How many troops does Shangzhou have?”

Li Huazhang’s voice was steady and clear: “Two thousand garrison soldiers. After accounting for ghost enrollments, the elderly and the infirm, and those lost from the rolls, fewer than a thousand are battlefield-capable — and those men are long out of practice. Their actual combat effectiveness needs to be discounted further.”

Ming Yuji’s brow furrowed. There was only hope left to put in the relief forces: “What about Ren Yao? How many soldiers did she bring?”

Xie Jichuan let out a short, scornful sound: “Five hundred. I’m very certain.”

The soldiers Ren Yao commanded were the Emperor’s personal elite troops — well-trained, fully equipped, every one of them seasoned. Ming Yuji had guessed the reinforcements would not be many, but this was still far too few.

Ming Yuji fell silent. After a moment she asked: “And Junzhou — how many troops does it have?”

This was Ming Huashang’s area of knowledge. She said: “There’s a good piece of news and a bad piece of news. Which do you want to hear first?”

Xie Jichuan said without hesitation: “The bad one.”

“Very well — the good news first. The good news is, not only is Shangzhou’s military readiness in decay — Junzhou’s garrison troops are equally slack. But the bad news is that Prince Qiao, knowing Empress Wei would never spare him, has been secretly cultivating connections among the various military governors all these years. As of now, the Jiannan Military Governor has pledged his support to Prince Qiao, and will dispatch twenty thousand troops from Chuzhou to assist Prince Qiao in reclaiming the throne.”

That left everyone speechless. Xie Jichuan gave a short, wry laugh and nodded: “Excellent. All we need is for every soldier to be worth twenty, and Shangzhou will win.”

Ming Yuji tried to work through the problem: “What about raising troops quickly from the surrounding areas?”

Ming Huashang shook her head: “We’ve thought of that too. But garrison troops are in poor shape, and the elite soldiers are all in the hands of the military governors — the nearest of whom is the Jiannan Military Governor.”

The military imbalance was enormous. The court would not send reinforcements; there was no water nearby to put out this fire. On the face of it, this was a war with only one outcome. Ming Yuji was already weighing the odds of assassinating Prince Qiao and the Jiannan Military Governor. At that point, Li Huazhang suddenly spoke: “I have a plan. It may require only a few people — and yet be enough to unravel this rebellion from the inside.”

Xie Jichuan raised an eyebrow, deeply skeptical: “You mean to defeat twenty thousand troops with just a handful of Xuan Xiaowei operatives?”

Li Huazhang was unhurried and unruffled. His bearing carried confidence, composure, and a quiet authority: “No matter how many soldiers there are, the decisions are always made by only a handful of people. If we can use intelligence to make them reach the wrong conclusions — that is enough.”