The two faced each other in the wind, one fully armed, the other protected only by thin clothes.

Despite the disparity, she truly showed lonely courage like an egg striking stone.

Zhang Luo raised his sword hilt, pressing down her raised hands with neither heavy nor light force.

“I come by Imperial command. Without the Emperor’s order, I won’t harm you.”

He turned to Song Yunqing, who had come out holding a blanket and said: “Help her inside. Then have all the men of Qingbo Pavilion come out.”

Hearing this, the manager hurriedly led all the workers to stand at the door.

Many workers were seeing this legendary “Official of the Dark Capital” for the first time, and trembled fearfully, not daring to raise their heads.

Zhang Luo handed his sword to the captain behind him, then turned to tell the manager: “You have an important person inside. The Northern Guard cannot enter. So, please have your people bring out all the printing blocks, ink, and paper, for the Guard to take away and burn.”

The manager glanced worriedly inside and couldn’t help asking: “Lord Zhang, our owner won’t come to harm, will she…”

Zhang Luo watched Yang Wan’s retreating figure: “As long as you stop engraving blocks and printing books, and temporarily close the inner workshop, I won’t trouble her.”

“Yes…”

The manager responded, then turned to tell the workers and craftsmen behind him: “Quick, all of you go in and move the things.”

The workers bustled back and forth inside the pavilion.

Yang Wan had stockpiled paper and printing ink over the past month, nearly filling the entire inner workshop’s storeroom. There were also over three hundred printing blocks. It took several workers until dusk to move everything out.

The cold of approaching night swept in.

The workers were too exhausted to speak, sitting dejectedly in the courtyard.

Chen Hua was off duty today and had come to help after hearing the news. Seeing everyone at Qingbo Pavilion so dejected and no one cooking even by the afternoon watch, he went to cook rice himself.

When he came out wiping his hands, he saw Song Yunqing staring blankly while watching Yang Wan’s medicine pot. He crouched down and advised her: “You should put on more clothes.”

Song Yunqing finally came to her senses, watching the fire: “It’s fine, I don’t feel cold.”

Chen Hua said: “Autumn wind chills to the bone. With Miss Wan so ill, if you fall sick too, who will take care of her?”

Song Yunqing lowered her head, sighed heavily, and looked up at him: “You’re more clear-headed than me today.”

She sniffed, “Yes, I shouldn’t be so downhearted, but I feel so sad. I’ve watched Yang Wan and the Factory Official’s journey all along. We both know what kind of person the Factory Official was – he shouldn’t have met such an end.”

Chen Hua sighed: “At least the Factory Official had Miss Wan.”

Song Yunqing said: “But I worry for Yang Wan too.”

She glanced at Yang Wan’s quarters. “Her health was already poor when she left the palace. Recently she’s been writing that book for the Factory Official day and night, then personally checking the printing blocks. Now the book is gone, the blocks are gone, even the ink and paper have all been taken away… Look at this empty inner workshop, it’s truly disheartening.”

Chen Hua followed her gaze toward the inner workshop – dark lamps, empty rooms. Song Yunqing’s word “disheartening” was truly apt.

“Don’t be sad.”

Song Yunqing shook her head, “Speaking of which after Li Yu died…”

She looked around as she spoke, then continued: “After Li Yu died, this Qingbo Pavilion became my home too, and now it’s gone just like that…”

She gradually couldn’t continue speaking, and stood up to lift the medicine pot’s lid, letting the steam blur her eyes.

“Go chop some wood, the fire’s not enough.”

Chen Hua silently nodded but remained crouching without moving.

The emptier the building, the louder the wind’s sound.

“You can all leave.”

A voice suddenly came from the corridor.

Song Yunqing quickly turned around to see Yang Wan standing at her door wearing a fur cloak.

Seeing her come out, the workers instinctively stood up.

Yang Wan smiled at them, “It’s alright, stay seated. I just have some words I want to say properly while I’m still here.”

After speaking, she coughed lightly, cleared her throat, and continued evenly: “I’ve run Qingbo Pavilion for two years and saved some money. I had planned to use some to expand the bookshop and some to repair the house for me and Deng Ying, but now it seems that won’t be necessary. You can all take it.”

“Owner, please don’t say that.”

The manager walked to the corridor and said: “Qingbo Pavilion is our livelihood too. As long as you’re safe, we can keep going somehow.”

The workers also chimed in: “Yes, owner. Working for you, we’re treated well and paid well. Now you’re sick, yet telling us to take the money and leave – if we did as you say, wouldn’t that make us heartless?”

Yang Wan shook her head, “You saw the Northern Guard today, so you should know I’ve broken the law and will be punished. But to me, everyone’s dignity is precious. I’m telling you to leave not for anything else, but because I know the humiliation that comes after submitting to punishment. I admit my guilt, but you are innocent. You should cherish your freedom, not end up like me.”

She coughed several times. Song Yunqing hurriedly supported her. Yang Wan gripped Song Yunqing’s arm in return: “Yunqing, I had no real friends in the inner court. Thank you for treating me with sincerity. I originally wanted to give you Qingbo Pavilion, but feared it would implicate you, so… I’m leaving all my personal belongings to you.”

“Yang Wan…”

“Yunqing, whether you live with someone or alone in the future, I hope you can be more free.”

After speaking, she gently removed Song Yunqing’s hand, said nothing more, and slowly walked back to her quarters.

A single lamp burned, warming one desk.

The cold moon watched through the window, banana leaf shadows covering the windowpane.

Yang Wan sat behind the desk, took off her heavy outer clothes, rolled up her sleeves, and reached for a brush.

The cotton paper for printing had all been taken away by Zhang Luo. Now all that remained in her quarters was the bamboo paper she usually wrote on. The paper was somewhat rough, but it helped steady her slightly trembling hand. She opened the original manuscript and began copying the first paragraph of “Observational Notes from the Eastern Depot.”

The twelfth year of Zhenning, deep winter.

Met Deng Ying at Nanhai Lake in the capital’s outskirts.

That day brought heavy snow, pure white covering the ground.

I watched the wounded crane from my window, like looking up to see spring on a terrace…

Giving up all worldly possessions, sitting quietly with the heart of one facing death.

As she wrote, she gradually understood Deng Ying’s state of mind – born humble, he was willing to use a lifetime of cultivation to suppress fear deep in his heart, then sit obediently in the mud. He wasn’t a weak person, his love and hate weren’t unclear, and he had done everything he wanted to do, he just refused to speak.

He had been the builder of the Imperial City.

Until his death, he remained this feudal dynasty’s guardian.

To Yang Wan, this dynasty was the decaying past.

But to Deng Ying, it was his home and country, the place where he invested his scholarly heart.

Therefore he couldn’t understand the “defiance” from the 21st century that Yang Wan carried, yet was involuntarily drawn to her strength. If his life had been castrated since his punishment, leading to constant self-destruction, then Yang Wan’s intervention in his life was an external force, holding him back from the cliff’s edge, making him desire to “cling to life.”

As long as Deng Ying “clung to life” it was good, even if he remained silent it didn’t matter, as long as he didn’t destroy himself, Yang Wan would handle the rest. It was just six hundred years early, but she had prepared over a decade for this. So even if she was alone, it was fine – back then she had also faced the clamorous Ming Dynasty historical academia alone, and in the end, she graduated, and her thesis was approved.

She had won.

Looking back it was like a great dream, and awakening, the cold moon still watched at the window.

Yang Wan didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. When she opened her eyes, Yang Xing sat before her, sleeves rolled up, flipping through her original manuscript, copying page by page.

“Sister.”

Yang Wan called to her.

Yang Xing looked up at the sound, smiling as she asked: “You haven’t eaten, are you hungry?”

“Not hungry.”

She looked down at the brush in Yang Xing’s hand, about to ask something when Yang Xing said: “Wan’er, sister will help you.”

Just as she finished speaking, the door opened and Song Yunqing and Chen Hua came in carrying a stack of cotton paper, “Yang Wan, we’ll help you too.”

Yang Wan looked at the cotton paper in Song Yunqing’s hands in confusion: “How do we still have cotton paper?”

Song Yunqing said: “It’s not ours, it’s sent by Mr. Zhou and the others.”

“Mr. Zhou?”

“Yes, Zhou Muyi, the Imperial Academy Scholar.”

Yang Wan paused, turning to look outside.

The courtyard’s lamps had been lit brightly at some point, the manager leading workers to move tables from the inner workshop to the corridor, papers spread across them. Zhou Muyi and several dozen students from the Chushan and Hudan academies stood beside the tables.

Yang Wan supported herself on the table to stand and walk to the door. Everyone in the courtyard looked up at her.

The manager said: “Owner, we’ve thought it through. We should keep our dignity, but we can’t abandon our conscience. The Factory Official suffered so much without saying a word. If you don’t speak, if we don’t speak, then no one will speak.”

“Yes.”

A very young worker added: “Owner, I won’t leave either. I don’t know many characters, but I can copy what I see. The Imperial Academy scholar just taught me – look, is this writing acceptable?”

“It is…”

Yang Wan’s voice choked up as she looked up at Zhou Muyi, holding back tears: “Does Sir Zhou know this is a capital offense? Are you willing to give up your future and reputation?”

Zhou Muyi put down his brush and bowed deeply to Yang Wan: “Our lives and futures were given to us by you and the Factory Official.”

Yang Wan couldn’t help turning her head aside, covering her mouth and nose.

Seeing these students, she suddenly couldn’t hold back anymore, constantly recalling the scene when Deng Ying rolled up his sleeves in the street, showing them his torture marks.

He had asked those angry students, “I was involved in the school land case, so ended up in this state, wearing torture devices while awaiting trial in the Ministry of Justice. A condemned person has no dignity to speak of. After ten years of hard study, do you also want to end up like me?”

The voice still in her ears, she couldn’t help choking out: “Perhaps I still hope for repayment, but Deng Ying… Deng Ying definitely wouldn’t want you to end up like him.”

Zhou Muyi said: “The Son of Heaven follows the people’s will. How do you know we aren’t the people’s will? How dare you say we’ll end up like the Factory Official?”

He reached for his brush, “Miss Yang, I’ve read your book. Your block carvers weren’t from Hui style, the carving wasn’t actually very good. This book isn’t a classic or historical text, it has no carved illustrations – it looks dry at first glance.”

Yang Wan rubbed her eyes, “I have one.”

“Please bring it out to see.”

“I once drew him.”