Yan Qing poured the prepared sauce into the wok. The fragrant, spicy aroma spread through the pan. Shi Ting leaned in and took a sniff, letting out an appreciative sound: “Wonderful.”

Yan Qing pushed him back. “Don’t lean in so close — watch out for oil splatter.”

“I’m not afraid.” Shi Ting circled his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.

Yan Qing turned her head and gave him a quick kiss, then negotiated: “How am I supposed to cook like this?”

He pulled her even closer. “I’m not doing anything — how am I getting in the way?”

Faced with this clingy, impossible man, Yan Qing could only smile helplessly. “Then hand me that fish basin.”

“As you command.” Shi Ting turned to fetch the large basin of marinated fish slices.

Yan Qing placed the marinated fish slices into the rolling boiling wok. The fish slices needed to be lifted out after only a couple of turns in the broth — that was the only way to keep them tender and soft, not overcooked.

The cooked fish slices were as white and delicate as snow tofu, arranged neatly in a deep white dish.

Then she poured sizzling oil, infused with the fragrance of fresh Sichuan peppercorns and dried chilies, over them — listening to the crackling sound the hot oil made hitting the fish, the aroma rising with it.

Finally Yan Qing used green Sichuan peppercorns as garnish. A dish of numbing pepper fish, gorgeous in color, fragrance, and flavor, was complete. She felt quite a little proud as she picked up the plate and winked at a certain someone: “Well?”

“Madam is truly talented in many ways,” Shi Ting smiled, taking the plate from her hands. “Let me hold it — don’t burn yourself.”

Their evening meal was simple: a plate of numbing pepper fish, two bowls of rice, eaten in the pavilion in the courtyard.

Jianguo and Erdan played nearby, competing over a ball, snatching it back and forth. Jianguo, the older one, refused to lose to his younger sibling, but to his helpless frustration, the younger one was growing bigger by the day — its weight and size were trending toward surpassing his own. This gave Jianguo a sense of crisis, and it had begun eating noticeably more than usual.

Yan Qing took a bite of rice and looked up at him. Shi Ting happened to look over at the same moment. Their eyes met, and smiles bloomed in both of their gazes.

On a summer night, a cool breeze drifted through. The gauze curtains of the pavilion drifted in the breeze. A round moon hung at the edge of the sky, the darkness spreading softly, peaceful and serene.

After dinner, Jing Zhi changed out the tea. The two of them sat in the pavilion drinking tea and chatting.

“How are things going at Da Gu Mountain?” Yan Qing sipped her tea — it was new tea from this year, fresh in taste, with a lasting aftertaste.

“Liu Qingnian’s men have been losing ground steadily.” Shi Ting’s eyes grew deep. “The bandits of Da Gu Mountain are indeed formidable — their reputation is well-earned.”

“What will happen then — will Liu Qingnian continue the assault?”

“Orders have come down from above that the bandit nest must be cleared, no matter the cost. Even if they have to press forward stubbornly, they can only press on. Liu Qingnian is currently stationed near Shuang He Town, not far from Da Gu Mountain, regrouping and recovering. His losses in the recent battles were considerable.”

“What is the General’s position on this?”

“I’ve already petitioned the General for permission to go support Liu Qingnian,” Shi Ting said.

“The General has given you soldiers?” Yan Qing asked, alarmed.

Shi Ting shook his head.

“It won’t be you taking the military police division’s men, will it?” The military police division’s people were investigators — not soldiers meant for fighting.

Shi Ting took her hand and held it in his palm, rubbing it gently, as though he didn’t quite know how to begin.

But facing her bright, clear gaze, he knew he ought to tell her the truth.

“No soldiers. I’m going alone.”

Yan Qing nearly dropped her teacup. “You’re going single-handed? Does the General think you’re Nezha — three heads and six arms, one against a thousand?”

“Nezha?” Shi Ting’s focus shifted slightly off course. “Who is Nezha?”

Yan Qing glared at him. “Now is not the time to worry about who Nezha is. We’re talking about you going to take risks alone.”

She was a little upset. Her fingers drummed on the table: tap, tap, tap.

He immediately took her hand and blew on it softly. “If you want to talk, just talk — why pound the table? Doesn’t your hand hurt?”

With her hand held in his — his palm as dry and warm as ever — a wave of grievance suddenly welled up in her heart. Her eyes reddened. “You’re really going alone?”

“This is a decision the General and I deliberated over at length.” Shi Ting let out a soft sigh, though his eyes grew ever more resolute. “I cannot go with soldiers — that would be far too conspicuous. I can only provide covert assistance to Liu Qingnian.”

“The General wants to win Liu Qingnian’s loyalty and cut off Meng Xiangyang’s left and right hands.” Yan Qing fell into thought. “The General cannot openly dispatch troops to support him, so he can only send you alone. He wants Liu Qingnian to be indebted to you.”

The Meng family was the backing behind Shi Guang and Shi Qian. If all military power remained in their hands, the General would be unable to eat or sleep at ease. If some of that power could be distributed elsewhere, the General would be glad to see it — especially since that redistributed share would still end up in his own son’s hands.

But Yan Qing understood — this task sounded straightforward, yet how difficult it would be for Shi Ting to accomplish it alone.

For a moment, a thousand thoughts ran through her mind, but she could find no better solution.

“Qing Qing, don’t worry — I won’t come to harm.” Shi Ting pulled her close. “I promise you, I’ll come back safe and sound.”

A pang of sadness rose in Yan Qing’s heart, and swirling along with it was a fierce reluctance to part. Her hands instinctively tightened around his waist.

“Then — when do you plan to set out?” Her voice was very small, nearly swallowed by his collar.

“No hurry. Seven or eight days from now.”

“Then I’ll make some preparations for you.”

He would certainly be traveling light on this journey — there was really not much to prepare. For Yan Qing to say this, she probably just needed to feel a little better.

The next day, before Yan Qing had managed to settle her emotions, Ling’ai arrived.

Ling’ai couldn’t read the traditional characters and came to ask Yan Qing for help after annotating the volumes with phonetic guides.

“I came in through the back gate this time,” Ling’ai grinned. “To avoid running into your household’s Shi Furen and her son.”

“You won’t be running into her for a while,” Yan Qing said helplessly. “She’s gone back to her courtyard.”

“That’s wonderful.” Ling’ai patted her chest with relief. “She’s rather alarmingly enthusiastic.”

The two of them sat in the courtyard pavilion. Yan Qing was organizing teaching materials while Ling’ai read beside her, taking notes, and leaning over to ask Yan Qing whenever she encountered something she didn’t understand.

At noon, Ling’ai stayed at Shaolan Courtyard for lunch, then continued reading in the afternoon.

When she tired of reading, she played with Jianguo and Erdan, or chatted idly with Yan Qing.

Yan Qing and Ling’ai were kindred spirits. Though they hadn’t known each other long, there was a feeling of instant familiarity, as though they had met too late.

Ling’ai came to the Shi Mansion several days in a row to find Yan Qing. She even learned to make two flavorful dishes, planning to go back and show off her cooking skills to her father.

After dinner one day, the two of them sat drinking tea.

Yan Qing glanced toward the gate, deep in thought.

“Yan Qing, is something on your mind? I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted these past few days,” Ling’ai asked perceptively.

Yan Qing shook her head with a smile.

Ling’ai tilted her head and thought for a moment. “Did you and Director Shi have a fight? Did he treat you badly?”

“Of course not!” Yan Qing laughed despite herself.

Shi Ting would never fight with her — he hadn’t even said a harsh word to her. From the time they’d met until now, it seemed they had never once quarreled. Not because she had a good temper, but because he understood her, and she understood him. Sometimes a single glance was enough for him to know what she was thinking and what she was going to do. Two people like that, living together — how could they quarrel?

“Ling’ai, let me ask you something.” Yan Qing set down her teacup and said, as if in passing: “If the person you love were going on a dangerous mission alone, what would you do?”

“I’d go with him, of course!” Ling’ai answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Rather than sitting at home a bundle of nerves, it’s better to face the adventure together.”

“What if you might be a burden?”

“Then just don’t be a burden,” Ling’ai said cheerfully, raising her teacup with a little shake. “I’m an excellent shot — in your terms, I can hit a willow leaf at a hundred paces.”

“You know how to shoot?” Yan Qing was startled. Looking at Ling’ai’s small, slight frame, she thought of Shi Ting’s pistol, which had been difficult to even lift with one hand — Shi Ting had forbidden her from picking it up, worried she’d strain her wrist. Yet Ling’ai was apparently a marksmanship expert. People truly could not be judged by their appearance.

“Of course! I didn’t bring my gun today, but I’ll bring one tomorrow to show you.”

Yan Qing nearly choked on her tea, and quickly waved her hands. “No, no, I believe you — no demonstration necessary.”

Demonstrating marksmanship at the General’s mansion? That was just asking for trouble.

Ling’ai laughed too. “I was just teasing you, but it’s true that I can shoot. I learned from my brother since I was little. His marksmanship is the best in Di Guo.”

After the laughter faded, Yan Qing gave a soft sigh again. “And if you can’t shoot?”

“If you can’t shoot, there must be something else you’re good at. As long as you have one skill to offer, you won’t be a liability.” Ling’ai spoke briskly, leaning back with her legs crossed, sipping tea. “And if all else fails, you just dig in stubbornly. What’s so hard about that?”

Yan Qing: “…”

Though Ling’ai made it sound simple, Yan Qing suddenly felt a clarity wash over her.

She grabbed Ling’ai’s hand, eyes bright: “Thank you.”

Ling’ai nearly dropped her teacup, staring back in bewilderment. “What did I do for you to thank me?”

Yan Qing laughed and popped a rose petal cake into her mouth. “Nothing, have some refreshments.”

That evening, when Shi Ting returned from outside, Yan Qing had already laid out several dishes in the pavilion.

In summer the rooms were stuffy and hot, and the two of them took their meals in the pavilion. To ward off mosquitoes, Jing Zhi had lit mugwort early.

“Has Madam been cooking again today?” Shi Ting removed his uniform jacket. Yan Qing hurried to take it from him.

“Go wash your hands,” Yan Qing urged.

Shi Ting washed his hands and returned, standing before the table to look carefully — every dish on the table was one he loved. Then he looked at Yan Qing, who was wearing a quiet smile, and his thoughts turned. He smiled: “Is Madam asking a favor of me?”