After Ming Huazhang left, Ming Huashang fanned away the lingering heat on her face and returned to her archery practice. She had a nagging feeling that Ming Huazhang being summoned at such a critical moment boded nothing good, but idle speculation was useless — better to do something practical.

Ming Huazhang’s instruction had been meticulous and thorough, repeated without impatience more times than she could count. Even with her mind wandering elsewhere, she had passively absorbed the key points. She drew her bow and shot, and her accuracy improved steadily. Though she still could not hit the red center, at least every arrow now landed on the target.

When the quiver was empty, Ming Huashang let out a slow breath and reached for her handkerchief to wipe the sweat. But she had strained herself during practice, and her arm ached with a dull, pulling soreness. Her fingers slipped, and a gust of wind snatched the handkerchief away.

Ming Huashang gave a startled cry and rushed after it. The handkerchief had caught on a tree branch, and no matter how high she stretched onto her tiptoes, she could not reach it. She was just about to call Jiang Ling for help when Su Xingzhi, who had been practicing archery nearby, noticed her plight and came over to retrieve it.

Caught off guard by the sudden sight of Su Xingzhi, Ming Huashang blinked, then smiled sweetly: “Thank you, Brother Qianshan.”

Ming Huashang’s eyes were bright and sparkling, her smile like sunlight breaking through clouds, striking straight to the heart. Seeing a smile like that, Su Xingzhi’s expression relaxed without his realizing it. He handed the handkerchief back to her and, out of courtesy, offered a few pleasantries: “Miss Double Jade is progressing remarkably fast — truly a rare gift, born of natural brilliance.”

That compliment might have suited Su Yuji well enough, but Ming Huashang could hardly accept it. She laughed and said, “Brother Qianshan flatters me far too much. It is my shifu who teaches well — I’m afraid I’m simply too slow, and I still haven’t mastered it.”

Su Xingzhi naturally demurred in return, saying Ming Huashang was already doing very well, and offered a few encouraging platitudes about diligence being rewarded by heaven. Since Ming Huashang genuinely wanted to build a rapport with Su Xingzhi, she lingered in the exchange a little longer. When she felt the conversation had run its natural course and was about to head back, she sensed, for no clear reason, that something in the atmosphere had shifted.

Trusting her instinct, Ming Huashang turned around and saw a tall, slender figure standing beneath the shade of a tree on the far side of the practice ground. A white training robe outlined, in a few clean strokes, his broad shoulders and long legs. The wind stirred the trees, and dappled green shadows drifted over him, making his complexion seem all the more fair.

Even without seeing his face, that build and bearing were enough to tell her who it was. Ming Huashang’s face lit up with delighted surprise. Without another word to Su Xingzhi, she bolted across the ground toward him: “Elder Brother, you’re back!”

The moment Ming Huazhang stepped inside, he had seen Ming Huashang and Su Xingzhi standing together — close in manner, deep in conversation. His footsteps faltered, and a vague, inexplicable irritation rose in his chest. He steadied himself and was quietly considering what to do next, when Ming Huashang turned her head. The instant her eyes found him, a smile burst across her face and she came running toward him.

That formless, restless feeling in Ming Huazhang’s chest eased a little. He stepped out of the shade and reached out to catch her. Ming Huashang, oblivious to the change in his expression, pelted questions at him the moment she arrived, rapid-fire like popping beans: “Elder Brother, where did you go just now? No one gave you trouble, did they?”

So absorbed was she in her questioning that she did not notice how tightly Ming Huazhang’s fingers had closed around hers. Ming Huazhang lifted his gaze and swept a glance at the figure behind her, then without any visible change in demeanor, drew her behind him: “Nothing happened. Weren’t you supposed to be practicing archery? Why are you wandering around?”

“I wasn’t wandering,” Ming Huashang said, with the aggrieved air of a child who had been wronged, announcing loudly, “I shot all my arrows already — I just still can’t hit properly.”

“Accuracy comes with gradual practice.” Ming Huazhang’s eyes were dark as ink, and his voice was flat and unhurried. “Why go looking for someone else just because you can’t hit the target?”

“I didn’t. I was only retrieving my handkerchief.” Ming Huashang pulled the handkerchief out from her sleeve and held it up. “When I was wiping my sweat, the wind blew it off. Elder Brother Qianshan was kind enough to get it down for me.”

The two words “Elder Brother,” spoken so casually in reference to another man, hit Ming Huazhang somewhere unexpectedly sharp. Ming Huashang had always flitted around him, calling him “Elder Brother” this and “Elder Brother” that, and over time he had grown so accustomed to it that he scarcely noticed. But now those same two words came from her lips addressed to someone else, and Ming Huazhang found himself startled into a realization: the title of “elder brother” had never been his alone.

She was young and sweet-natured. Xie Jichuan, Su Xingzhi — there were many men who could be a fine elder brother to her.

The more Ming Huazhang suppressed what he felt, the more his expression settled into stillness. He said, “I see. In that case, you really ought to thank him properly. I’ll accompany you.”

Ming Huashang blinked. “Ah?”

It was such a small thing — did it really warrant all this ceremony?

But Ming Huazhang was inexplicably insistent. “We must not be remiss in our manners. Come along.”

Ming Huashang had a vague sense that something was off about Ming Huazhang’s manner, but then she thought — he was the most principled, gentlemanly person she knew, and making a point of expressing gratitude did seem like something he would do. He had her too confused to argue, and she obediently followed him to find Su Xingzhi.

Ming Huazhang kept hold of her wrist the entire way. His fingers were long, his knuckles defined; they encircled the narrow bone of her wrist, and the jade-cool touch of his fingertips was forceful and unyielding, brooking no refusal.

When Su Xingzhi saw Ming Huazhang approaching, not a word had yet been said, and yet he was quite certain he felt a current of hostility. Ming Huazhang drew Ming Huashang to a stop three paces away and gave Su Xingzhi a slight, measured nod: “Thank you for coming to her aid just now, Brother Qianshan.”

Ming Huazhang’s bearing was proud and aloof, his words of thanks perfectly courteous, but the light in his eyes held a cold, cutting edge. Su Xingzhi found himself baffled as to how he had managed to offend Ming Huazhang; as far as he could recall, he and this remarkably gifted young legend of the assassination corps had no quarrel between them.

Su Xingzhi said, “It was a trifle, hardly worth mentioning. Miss Double Jade is gifted and diligent — anyone who saw her in difficulty would have done the same.”

Ming Huazhang smiled, faintly and briefly — all the polished grace and noble bearing of a true gentleman — yet Ming Huashang felt the grip on her hand tighten. Ming Huazhang said, “It was my failing for not watching over her properly. I’ve put you to trouble, Brother Qianshan. By the way, the General has something to discuss with you and asked me to pass the message along.”

Su Xingzhi was taken aback, but in an instant he understood the source of Ming Huazhang’s inexplicable hostility toward him. He had already formed his own theory about the events of the previous day’s banquet scene. Han Jie had summoned Ming Huazhang, and now he was sending for Su Xingzhi too — which meant this mission was to be divided between two separate groups?

Su Xingzhi had never encountered such an arrangement before. No matter how pleasantly Han Jie might phrase it, deploying two groups simultaneously for the same task was either a sign that he did not trust the competence of the primary team, or that he did not trust their loyalty.

No wonder Ming Huazhang had taken such a clear stance against him. With that, Su Xingzhi felt he had pieced together the full picture and saw no point in holding Ming Huazhang’s attitude against him. He gave a brief bow and departed.

Once Su Xingzhi was out of earshot, Ming Huashang edged close to Ming Huazhang’s shoulder and asked, “Second Elder Brother, was it General Han who summoned you just now?”

Ming Huazhang turned his gaze back and looked down into her eyes — clear and luminous, like water with light in it — and felt a nameless surge of something restless rise up inside him: “Yes.”

The worry Ming Huashang had been nursing was confirmed. She drew closer at once, urgent with anxiety: “What did he say?”

Her eyes were bright-black and white, and in them, his own reflection was sharp and clear — as though in her world, there was room for no one but him. The formless, insistent pull inside Ming Huazhang slowly subsided. He reached out before he could stop himself and tousled her hair gently, saying, “A small matter. I have it in hand. Go and pack your things — we are going into Chang’an today.”

Ming Huashang’s eyes went wide with obvious surprise, then immediately brightened with delight: “Really? What do I need to prepare?”

“Nothing at all. The Xuan Xiaowei will arrange food, clothing, lodgings, and transport, and you’ll need a new wardrobe made once we’re in Chang’an anyway. Just bring whatever small personal items you use day to day.” Ming Huazhang spoke and then raised his voice toward the far side of the training ground: “Wei Yue, Jin Niu, Qi Sha — come with me.”

Jiang Ling had been in the middle of shooting and suddenly learned he was to leave on a mission and would be missing the afternoon’s lessons. He blinked, then slapped his hands together in aggrieved exasperation: “If I’d known there’d be no class today, I wouldn’t have bothered writing that assignment last night. What a miscalculation.”

Ren Yao cast him a cool sideways glance and let out a contemptuous snort.

Xie Jichuan paid the other two’s bickering no mind, his face composed and intent as he pressed for details: “What is the mission? How many days will we be gone? What are we doing?”

“Go back and change into ordinary clothes and pack your things first. I’ll explain on the way.” Ming Huazhang glanced at the sun’s position in the sky. “Meet at the stables in a quarter of an hour.”

The base had horse-riding training facilities and kept a large stable of fine horses; as they were heading down the mountain on official business, they would take five horses with them. There was nothing in the way of clothing or travel funds to prepare, and truly nothing much to pack, so within the time it took to drink a single cup of tea, everyone had made their way to the meeting point one after another.

Ming Huazhang had changed into an indigo round-collared robe, cinched at the waist with a leather belt, one hand resting on a saber at his side. From a distance, he was like a pool of moonlight fallen onto still water. Ming Huashang, for ease of movement, had changed into a fitted riding costume in the Hu style. Jiang Ling, Xie Jichuan, and Ren Yao were all similarly dressed in trim, practical attire.

Once the five of them had gathered, Ming Huazhang took a quick headcount, satisfied himself that nothing had been forgotten, and led them down the mountain. He produced a token, and the gate guards, upon seeing the emblem carved on it, asked not a single question and simply called out: “Lower the drawbridge — passage granted.”

Ming Huazhang vaulted lightly into the saddle and rode first across the drawbridge, leading the way into the dense, sweeping mountain forest.

Ming Huashang had climbed this mountain in bitterness and dread; she descended it as if setting out on a pleasure excursion, with none of the tension one might expect before a mission. With her mind at ease, she truly noticed for the first time how spiritually beautiful the Zhongnan Mountains were — no wonder so many hermits and Taoist masters chose to cultivate here. The reputation was well deserved.

While Ming Huashang, Ren Yao, and Jiang Ling played and bantered at the front of the group, Xie Jichuan rode his horse alongside Ming Huazhang and asked quietly, “What’s going on?”

“The banquet from last night was real,” Ming Huazhang said. “I cannot be certain the man was actually named Zhang San, but he is dead, and the painting is gone.”

By the timing of events, the murder at the banquet would have taken place not long before. Han Jie, unable to determine the culprit on his own, had brought it to the training session to pool their collective thinking. And as it turned out, someone had indeed made the right connection. After class was dismissed yesterday, Han Jie had immediately sent men to track down Zhang San, but they had arrived too late — Zhang San was already dead, and the painting that had been hidden in his walking staff had vanished without a trace.

Xie Jichuan asked, “What was in the painting?”

“A plan of the Daming Palace.”

Xie Jichuan raised an eyebrow, and a smile that was not quite a smile curved across his lips as he looked at Ming Huazhang: “Truly?”

“What hour is it for joking?” Ming Huazhang sat straight on his horse like a jade tree in the wind, using the scabbard of his saber to push aside tree branches blocking the path, his voice unhurried. “It seems there are those who still refuse to let it go and wish to obstruct the capital’s relocation.”

Xie Jichuan gave a soft, thin laugh — so cold it was almost devoid of all feeling: “Ordinary families will fight to the last breath over an inheritance, refusing to yield until one side is destroyed. How much more, when what hangs in the balance is a dynasty’s glory and the power of kings, passed down through ten thousand generations? If Zhang San was truly their man, that painting is not going to be easy to find.”

The fear was that there would be a chance to find it — but no life left to claim it.

Ming Huazhang watched Ming Huashang up ahead, running and laughing without a care, and his voice was calm: “I know. But someone has to do these things.”

“And it doesn’t have to be you,” Xie Jichuan said. “Now that they’ve already gotten what they came for, there will doubtless be an endless stream of hired killers flowing into Chang’an, all hunting for this painting. You could say that whoever finds it first is the one who ends up in danger. Your imperial examination is in the autumn — why take this risk?”

“If the painting is never recovered, what good is passing the examination? The Empress decreed the capital would be moved back to Chang’an, yet if the move never comes to pass, it will be a catastrophic blow to the Crown Prince’s standing. Even if the Empress’s own mind remains unchanged, how would the military governors across the land, the vassal states — how would they look upon the Crown Prince then? How would they ever believe the Empress truly intends to return the throne to the Li family?”

Ming Huazhang’s voice was perfectly level, but his eyes were like black jade set in ice water, with a quiet, deep fire flickering in their depths: “When hearts waver and a nation serves two masters at once — that is the truest calamity of the Great Tang, the truest suffering of its people. If I can set things right and restore order to this world, what is the price of one man’s life?”

Xie Jichuan sighed. “I genuinely suspect all those years of reading the classics have made you simple. To be alive is for anything to be possible. Are you certain you’ve thought this through?”

“To act for nation and family — to die in such a cause is still an honor.”

“Very well.” Xie Jichuan clapped Ming Huazhang on the shoulder. “Consider it my misfortune, having known you from the start. Then I suppose I have no choice but to lay down my life alongside the gentleman.”

Once they cleared the Zhongnan Mountains, it was another sixty li north to Chang’an. Before long, Ming Huashang brought her horse to a halt before the city gates and gazed up in reverent awe at the walls and towers that rose from the earth before her: “This is Chang’an?”

Ming Huashang could ride well enough, though not by much, and Ming Huazhang had stayed at her pace throughout. By the time they reached Mingde Gate, the sun was already low in the west.

Xie Jichuan, Jiang Ling, and Ren Yao had entered the city long before. Ming Huazhang had been held up behind with her, yet not a trace of impatience showed on his face. He held his reins with one hand and spoke in a measured tone: “Yes. This is Chang’an. Come then — let’s go in and find something to eat first.”

Ming Huashang had been exerting herself all day and was quite weary in body, yet her eyes were still brilliant and alive. She nodded with excitement, and was just puzzling over how to dismount when Ming Huazhang had already extended his hand toward her.

His palm was narrow and lean, his fingers even and long, and the light calluses on his palm did nothing to diminish the beauty of those hands — they still looked like works of art. Ming Huashang rubbed her own palm, reddened from the reins, and carefully placed it in his. That hand, slender and slight in appearance, unleashed a strength entirely at odds with how it looked: Ming Huazhang, half-steadying and half-lifting, brought her down from the saddle.

Before entering the city, Ming Huazhang retrieved five household registration documents from the Xuan Xiaowei — indistinguishable from genuine ones. The gate guards examined them, found nothing amiss, and waved them through.

Ming Huashang led her horse through the great, soaring archway of the city gate and stepped into the Chang’an that had been celebrated throughout the world. She looked at Zhuque Street — broad and arrow-straight, wide enough for more than ten carriages to ride abreast — and at the open, orderly network of streets that spread out before her like a constellation of stars, and at the grand and sweeping character of this city, so entirely unlike Luoyang. She felt her eyes could not take it all in fast enough: “Second Elder Brother, Chang’an is so vast.”

Ming Huazhang looked upon this city — the true ancient capital of the empire, which he had not seen in so long — and let out a quiet breath: “Yes.”

Chang’an. He had finally come back.