In the full bloom of spring, Da Xing City looked considerably more beautiful — the bleak severity of winter had softened into warmth.

After resting through half a winter and an entire spring, the Ning Army had finished its preparations to advance westward into Shu.

After leaving the military camp, Fang Biehen walked to the noodle stall he’d somehow made a habit of visiting. He couldn’t explain it himself — he was a man from Shu, yet lately he’d developed a fondness for northern noodles, especially the oil-splashed noodles that this little stall did best.

He’d assumed he would tire of them after a few visits. But every time he came, they still managed to satisfy.

Or perhaps it was the child at the stall who was simply too delightful to stay away from.

The stall was run by a husband and wife, with a small boy of four or five. The couple were kind-hearted and honest; business was not exactly flourishing — Da Xing City was still recovering — but both of them faced the future with an expectation that shone even from their eyes.

*”The Ning Prince has established a public school in Da Xing City.”*

The proprietress set down Fang Biechen’s bowl, then crouched to straighten the boy’s clothes.

*”Next year I can send you to study there.”*

The boy blinked his wide eyes at his mother. *”Is studying fun?”*

The proprietress shook her head. *”It should be the best thing in the world, I imagine. Your mother’s never studied, and neither has your father — so your mother really can’t say.”*

Fang Biehen stirred his noodles and smiled. *”Studying isn’t only the most enjoyable thing — it’s the most useful thing.”*

He had barely finished the sentence when a voice came laughing from outside the door. *”Telling tales to small children isn’t very admirable, you know.”*

Fang Biehen turned to see Gao Zhen strolling in with a grin.

*”General.”*

Fang Biehen quickly rose to pay his respects.

The couple had never met a general before. In their eyes, Fang Biechen had only ever looked like a literate man of some distinction — and so they were thrown into something of a panic. Gao Zhen laughed it off and told them to go and cook him a bowl just the same as Fang Biechen’s — he was famished.

*”How did the General end up here?”*

Gao Zhen said: *”You come every single day. I figured there had to be a reason — couldn’t stop myself from coming to see.”*

He sat down and spent a long moment rummaging through his sleeve, eventually producing two heads of garlic — which made Fang Biechen laugh out loud.

*”Eat noodles without garlic, lose half the flavor.”*

Gao Zhen began peeling garlic and looked over at the small boy. *”Studying is fun, and so is martial practice. Which would you rather do?”*

The boy asked: *”Which is more fun?”*

Gao Zhen: *”Both are.”*

The boy thought carefully, then replied with the gravity only a child that age could muster: *”Then I won’t choose. I’ll do both.”*

Fang Biechen was still smiling when he glanced toward the door of the stall — and the smile froze on his face.

Forgetting that Gao Zhen was sitting beside him, Fang Biechen immediately rose and followed the figure outside. The silhouette was just ahead of him — he stepped forward to close the distance, and then his leg turned to lead. He could not take another step.

Gao Zhen thought something had happened and hurried out after him. When he saw the direction of Fang Biechen’s gaze fixed on the back of a woman walking away, he suddenly understood.

*”Does she look like her?”*

Gao Zhen asked.

Fang Biechen let out a slow, heavy breath and pulled Gao Zhen’s arm. *”Let’s go back and eat.”*

*”Even if it isn’t her — why not go see?”*

Fang Biechen shook his head. *”There’s no need…”*

Gao Zhen gave him a pointed look. *”You’re afraid it won’t be her?”*

Fang Biechen said: *”I’m afraid… it will be.”*

Gao Zhen strode off after the woman without another word, then jogged back to ask: *”What was her name again?”*

Fang Biechen: *”Ding Weilu.”*

Gao Zhen called out a quick acknowledgment and sprinted after her. He had already caught up with the woman — startling her in the process. Gao Zhen stepped in front of her and first looked at her carefully, reasoning simply: Fang Biechen had once said in a moment of wine-loosened honesty that Ding Weilu was the most beautiful woman in the world. If she wasn’t beautiful, he figured, there was probably no need to ask.

But when he saw her face, he froze for a moment, then immediately bowed in apology. *”I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’ve mistaken you for someone else.”*

The woman’s eyes flickered aside, and she walked around him without a word, though her pace quickened noticeably.

Gao Zhen stood there looking something like a fool, momentarily at a loss.

She must have been beautiful once — perhaps she still was, in a way. But across that face now ran two vivid, eye-catching scars in the shape of a cross. The scars met at the bridge of her nose, and had made a ruin of her whole face.

In that moment, Gao Zhen felt that he was being somewhat contemptible. So he chased after her again, stumbling over his apology, saying he had been too rash and thought he had run into an old neighbor.

This time the woman was less frightened. She smiled at him, apologetic, said she needed to get home, and left.

Gao Zhen returned to the entrance of the noodle stall. He looked at Fang Biechen, and Fang Biechen saw something very complicated in that look.

*”I…”*

Gao Zhen looked at Fang Biechen for a long moment before finally saying, full of remorse: *”I didn’t dare ask.”*

Fang Biechen smiled faintly. *”Never mind. What are the odds of a coincidence like that? Though I must say — even you have moments of losing your nerve, General.”*

Gao Zhen hesitated at length, and in the end said nothing about the cross-shaped scars on the woman’s face. He was afraid — if that woman truly was Ding Weilu, Fang Biechen might not be able to bear it.

That evening, there came a knock at the door of Gao Zhen’s study. He looked up. *”Come in.”*

A personal guard entered and bowed. *”General, the woman from this afternoon is staying at a small inn — a very run-down place, the cheapest kind.”*

Gao Zhen nodded.

His instincts told him this woman was Ding Weilu. So he had quietly had one of his men follow her, with instructions not to disturb, only to see where she was staying.

The guard continued: *”Her husband appears to be ill — seriously ill. This afternoon she visited Shen Medical Hall, asked about several medicines, but didn’t have enough money to buy them.”*

Gao Zhen looked out at the darkening sky. In the end he couldn’t stop himself. *”Lead the way.”*

Not long after, in this very run-down inn, Gao Zhen saw the woman a second time.

They couldn’t afford a room with a private door. They were in the kind of accommodation where one large common bed stretched the full length of the room, packed end to end with travelers coming and going from all directions. Perhaps because the woman’s husband was so gravely ill, the other guests had instinctively shifted away from them — which at least gave the two of them a comparatively quiet corner to themselves.

*”Are you Ding Weilu?”*

Gao Zhen asked.

The woman nodded, then asked: *”How does the lord know my name?”*

She didn’t know who this person was, but she could see the fine quality of his clothing.

She and her husband had made the long, arduous journey from Shu all the way to Da Xing City chasing a single hope — a distant, uncertain hope. Just a few months prior, while pushing her husband in a cart in search of a physician, she had run into an old neighbor. That neighbor told her there was a medical hall in Da Xing City called Shen Medical Hall, where the physicians were the finest healers in the world — men with the power to bring back the dying.

The neighbor had his own hardships — he was no man of great wealth — but still gave her some travel money and escorted her for two hundred li before reluctantly taking his leave. She had been endlessly grateful, yet had no way to repay him.

After such an arduous journey, she had finally arrived in Da Xing City, settled her husband in a cheap inn — and on her way out to look for Shen Medical Hall, she had encountered this strange man.

She knew something was off.

*”You…”*

Gao Zhen looked at the man lying on the bed — so weak he seemed liable to slip away with any breath.

*”He was wounded years ago during the bandit troubles. It never healed properly, and the past two years have been harder and harder.”*

Ding Weilu’s face was calm. She asked Gao Zhen: *”The lord still hasn’t answered me — how do you know my name?”*

Gao Zhen let out a long breath and turned to his guard. *”Have him moved carefully.”*

He looked at Ding Weilu. *”I was asked by a friend to find you. I had seen a portrait of you, so when I encountered you in the street, I stopped you to ask — I simply hadn’t expected…”*

His eyes moved to her face involuntarily before he quickly looked away.

*”I did it myself.”*

Ding Weilu said it with a composure — even a serenity — that was startling.

*”Taking care of him always attracts trouble. It was easier to simply not have the face for it. And besides…”*

She looked at the man. *”He doesn’t mind.”*

Gao Zhen looked at the man. His own eyes were reddening. The man could barely walk by now — yet the fist he kept slowly clenching and unclenching said plainly that he believed, still, that he could protect his woman.

*”My lord, who is this friend of yours?”*

Ding Weilu asked.

Gao Zhen made a decision in that moment to tell a lie.

*”He’s dead… also a general of our Ning Army. He died in battle. Before he passed, he asked me to find you.”*

When Ding Weilu heard the word *dead*, her expression changed visibly — her lips trembled despite herself.

*”Come.”*

Gao Zhen said. *”Please don’t refuse. This is my friend’s last wish. I have to see it through.”*

Ding Weilu drew a slow breath, then bowed. *”Thank you, my lord.”*

On the rooftop of a building across from the inn, Fang Biechen sat and watched. He did not speak or move — he held himself in place with every shred of strength he had. And so even his tears fell in silence.

Gao Zhen’s men carefully helped the man onto the carriage. Ding Weilu thanked them again, then climbed in herself.

When the carriage had gone, Fang Biechen still hadn’t moved.

Gao Zhen vaulted up beside him. *”I’m sorry… I know what I did might have been overstepping…”*

Before he finished, Fang Biechen shook his head. *”We’re friends. So I don’t want to say thank you.”*

Gao Zhen said nothing.

After a long silence, he lowered his head and said: *”I told her you… were dead.”*

Fang Biechen drew a slow breath, then made himself smile. *”That’s for the best.”*

After another long quiet, he asked Gao Zhen: *”How did you say I died?”*

Gao Zhen said: *”In battle.”*

Fang Biechen’s smile widened. *”That works… Her father’s hand taught me to be someone respectable. Dying in battle — that should be respectable enough.”*

Under the moonlight, Gao Zhen looked at the most bitter smile he had seen in his twenty years of living.

He asked Fang Biechen: *”Can you bear this?”*

Fang Biechen said: *”I’m sitting here, aren’t I — which means I already have… Whatever happens to her husband — whether it can be healed or not — I want to ask one more favor of you.”*

Gao Zhen asked: *”What?”*

Fang Biechen said: *”Help me buy a small house in Da Xing City. Doesn’t have to be much — just somewhere for her to belong… She shouldn’t have to keep wandering.”*

He smiled. *”I’ll need to borrow the money from you.”*

—