Huang Zixia felt stifled. The entire way back from the mortuary, she watched Zhou Ziqin’s face contort as he tried to suppress his overwhelming joy, and she felt like she was going to suffocate from irritation. She had the urge to fly-kick Zhou Ziqin off his horse and let his smugly satisfied face get swollen from the fall.

After seeing Gongsun Yuan off, when only the two of them remained in the yamen, Huang Zixia finally couldn’t hold back and shot Zhou Ziqin a sidelong glance: “What did you take?”

Zhou Ziqin looked at her with both pride and admiration: “Chonggu, you’re truly prophetic! How did you know I took something?”

“It’s written all over your face.” She extended her hand toward him.

Zhou Ziqin quickly pulled a lock of hair from his sleeve and placed it in her palm, looking at her with a fawning smile: “Well, I felt something was off. Although it looked like arsenic poisoning, don’t you think the black color on the corpse’s fingers was strange?”

Huang Zixia looked at the lock of hair, sighed in relief, and tossed it back to him: “I thought you’d secretly cut off a piece of flesh or something.”

Zhou Ziqin was shocked: “Chonggu, how could you be so cruel? How could a pure and kind-hearted young man like me do such a thing? Besides, the flesh was frozen solid, it would’ve been too hard to cut!”

If it had been easier to cut, would you have mutilated Fu Xinruan’s corpse? Huang Zixia was speechless and could only change the subject: “Can you test anything from the hair?”

“Barely… it depends on luck.” As he spoke, he tucked the lock of hair back into his robes.

Huang Zixia remembered something else and asked: “You mentioned earlier that you found that Fusha?”

“Yes, its leg injury wasn’t serious, but it was trapped in thorny bushes for two or three days, starved quite badly.” Zhou Ziqin quickly led her to the stable to see the Fusha.

Although she had changed her appearance, the Fusha recognized her silhouette immediately and happily approached, nuzzling against her with great affection.

Huang Zixia embraced its head, feeling extremely happy herself. But seeing how skinny it had become, she couldn’t help but sigh, quickly going to get several sheng of beans to mix with its fodder.

Zhou Ziqin’s “Little Xia” also snuck over and ate a few mouthfuls. Zhou Ziqin pushed it away by its nose, saying: “Lucky that Fusha has a good temperament. If it were Diee, would it have kicked you flying with one hoof?”

“If it were Diee, we wouldn’t dare keep it with other horses,” Huang Zixia said, finally showing a slight smile, then continued, “Hurry and examine Fu Xinruan’s hair, hopefully we can find something.”

“Oh, oh, I’ll go right away.” Zhou Ziqin said, clutching the hair as he ran to the back.

Huang Zixia glanced into his courtyard and saw Abi and Ayan calmly playing cat’s cradle in the yard, the two bronze figures standing in the corridor, and a row of cattle, sheep, and pig skulls on the windowsill – it seemed Zhou Ziqin had become even more excessive since arriving in Shu Prefecture.

With Li Shubai on her mind, she left the Prefecture Lord’s mansion and headed toward the inn.

Chengdu, situated in a basin surrounded by mountains, rarely saw sunlight throughout the year. Now in summer, the climate was somewhat stuffy and humid. But Huang Zixia was long accustomed to it, feeling that even the flow of the wind followed patterns she knew intimately.

She knew every street and alley of Chengdu like the back of her hand, and after several turns, she arrived at the inn entrance. Returning to her room to change clothes, she quickly went next door to listen for sounds, wanting to check if Li Shubai was asleep. But just as she reached the door, Li Shubai said from inside: “Come in.”

Huang Zixia pushed open the door to find Li Shubai sitting by the window drinking tea. Seeing her enter, he gestured to the chair in front of him.

Huang Zixia hesitated briefly before sitting down, refilled his teacup, and asked: “Does Your Highness know whose corpse we went to see?”

Li Shubai’s gaze remained fixed on the thousands of households of Chengdu outside the window, saying faintly: “Fu Xinruan of the Six Ladies of Yunshao, right?”

Huang Zixia was truly impressed by his prophetic abilities: “How did Your Highness guess?”

“Fu Xinruan recently died in Chengdu, with suspicious circumstances. How could Ziqin not know? He hasn’t figured it out yet and needs your help.”

She nodded, saying: “This case has several suspicious points. Fu Xinruan’s right finger had strange black marks, Ziqin plans to start there, first checking if there’s something unusual about this poison.”

He fell silent again, just gazing out the window, lost in thought.

Huang Zixia kept him company, watching the scenery outside.

The setting sun’s slanting rays penetrated the mist over the city, casting a hazy golden glow. Throughout the city, hollyhocks and lotus flowers bloomed in every household, making even the warm, humid air seem beautiful.

“Chengdu is truly a wonderful place, isn’t it?”

Lost in thought, she suddenly heard Li Shubai say this. She nodded unconsciously, and Li Shubai stood up, saying: “Let’s go, show me around this place.”

Huang Zixia was slightly surprised and asked: “Shouldn’t Your Highness rest more?”

He shook his head, saying: “I want to see the places you used to frequent.”

She made a surprised sound, thought for a moment, and asked: “See the places… I used to frequent?”

Li Shubai nodded, saying: “Perhaps… it might help with your family’s case?”

Although Huang Zixia felt this was just an excuse, she didn’t feel right asking further, so she followed him out, heading toward the busiest part of Chengdu.

The sky was already turning to dusk, with the setting sun’s rays gently illuminating Chengdu’s streets and alleys. On the streets paved with bluestone, some shops had closed their doors, while others had lit several lanterns at their entrances, the lamplight illuminating their path forward, alternating between bright and dim, winding and turning.

According to imperial law, Chengdu should observe a curfew. However, since the An-Shi Rebellion, enforcement of regulations has become lax. Even the capital’s curfew wasn’t strictly enforced, with people often returning late at night near the East and West Markets of Chang’an. Chengdu, being far from the capital, had a curfew that existed in name only.

As they walked, they passed embroidery shops and brocade workshops, with hanging silk brocades and embroidery appearing even more brilliant in the lamplight. Shu embroidery and Shu brocade were unrivaled in the Great Tang, and highly sought after by people of the time. Her gaze fell on those sachets embroidered with five-colored auspicious patterns, remembering how she had once wanted to embroider such a beautiful thing to hang at that person’s waist, but in the end, with neither time nor skill, it remained abandoned in the cabinet at home—

By now, that unfinished sachet had probably been cleared out and discarded by later occupants.

Sichuan’s night markets were most abundant in snacks and food.

Huang Zixia bought roasted goose wings and feet with money found on the captives. After some thought, she handed the wing to Li Shubai, saying: “Your Highness soars in the azure sky, so the wings are for you; while I stand firmly on Shu soil, so the feet are for me.”

Li Shubai looked down at her upturned face, in the midst of the bustling crowd, the night market’s lights flickering, illuminating her eyes with bright radiance.

Stars in the high heavens, pearls in the azure sea, in his dim life, this was his only moment of flowing brilliance.

He slowly reached out to take the goose wing wrapped in oiled paper, then took another sheet from the stall, split the pair of wings to give her one, and took one of her goose feet for himself.

While Huang Zixia was still puzzling over his redistribution of the wings and feet, she heard Li Shubai’s soft voice near her ear, seemingly coming from somewhere infinitely distant, echoing faintly in her heart, like ripples spreading outward.

“Heaven and earth are too far apart.”

She stood there, suddenly feeling a dark surge of emotion in her chest, not understanding why she suddenly felt so at a loss, not knowing what to do.

After a long while, seeing that Li Shubai had already walked ahead, she came to her senses, and quickly took a few steps to follow behind him, silently eating the roasted goose in her hand. This was Chengdu’s most famous roasted goose shop, crispy outside and tender inside, cooked to perfection, with an enticing aroma – it was one of her favorites when she was in Chengdu before.

Huang Zixia took a bite, then worried that Li Shubai might not like these common street snacks, secretly glanced up at him, only to find him standing in the crowd, looking back at her. His figure, half a head taller than others, was easy to spot in the crowd.

She squeezed through the crowd to his side, looked up, and asked: “Is it good?”

He nodded slightly.

Looking at his radiant face in the lamplight, she felt a bit nervous, so after thinking, she joked: “We’re being hunted right now, surely no one has poisoned this food?”

“No,” Li Shubai said calmly, “The other side may not know our identities yet, and since they didn’t hesitate to use even Princess Qile, aiming for a single decisive strike, how could they use such an uncertain method with such high risk?”

“Yes, setting fire to our lodgings would be much easier than poisoning us on the street,” Huang Zixia said.

Li Shubai nodded: “Right, so from the moment our identities are exposed, we need to carefully choose where we stay.”

Huang Zixia strongly agreed, saying: “So the people we meet next, or rather, everyone we meet from now until our next ambush, are very important.”

Li Shubai glanced at her, just nodded, but said nothing.

They moved through the crowd like ordinary people, flowing with and against the street’s human tide. No one noticed them, naturally no one could notice their shoulders occasionally bumping together due to the jostling crowd, or their hair touching when blown by the wind.

At the end of the street was a stationery shop. The cabinets held white hemp paper, yellow hemp paper, and various colored papers and gold-flecked letter paper. Yizhou hemp paper was imperially designated for official use, and Li Shubai was accustomed to using it daily, but what was sold to commoners wasn’t as good as that used by the court, so he just looked and put it down.

Huang Zixia fingered a sheet of yellow hemp paper, suddenly remembering the late emperor’s last writing. That too was drawn on Shu yellow hemp paper, its three scribbles still defying interpretation, their meaning impossible to discern.

Li Shubai must have thought of this too, turning to look at her before saying softly: “Father Emperor usually used white hemp paper for painting. Yellow hemp paper… was generally used for writing.”

Huang Zixia stared at him with widened eyes in shock.

He gazed at her intently, the shop was narrow, they stood too close, his lowered voice sounding by her ear so faintly she could almost feel his breath, gently brushing against her ear, spreading like ink in water: “So at that time, he wanted to write something, not draw – much less draw such incomprehensible things.”