Shen Biwei had never expected Zhao Yanze to appear at this peach blossom stream.

She had originally planned to take Yanyan to catch peach blossom sparrows, when she spotted a bright yellow imperial carriage in the distance and knew at once that something was unusual. Walking closer, she confirmed it: it was indeed Zhao Yanze. The spring days were warm and pleasant, the most comfortable weather for most — but he, right at this time of year, was prone to willow-pollen coughing fits. If it had been for the spring hunt, the Grand Princess’s visit yesterday should have been sufficient. His coming today as well was going a bit too far in honoring the Han family.

“Yanyan, A’Cuo went to the Water Pavilion with Fu Yunrui and the others to look at paintings — you go too. I’ll take you bird-catching tomorrow.” Shen Biwei first sent Yanyan away.

Yanyan always listened to her, and ran off at once. Shen Biwei then slipped over quietly — giving Yuan Xiu such a fright that he nearly drew his sword.

“Sister Shen is at it again, giving everyone a scare.” Yuan Xiu was familiar with her, and said: “How did things turn out last time? Those people didn’t make trouble for you, did they?”

“It was nothing.” Shen Biwei spoke easily, and kicked Zhao Yanze’s boot with practiced familiarity: “Are you tired of living? Look how many flowers are here — you still dare to come?”

“My willow-pollen coughing doesn’t start until after the Spring Equinox — it’s the same every year, very reliable.” Zhao Yanze only smiled faintly: “This place is so beautiful — aren’t you going to fulfill your duties as a host? Walk with me a little.”

Shen Biwei had been attending palace banquets since she was three years old, passed from the arms of one imperial consort to another. From an early age she knew the lesson her father had taught her: when in the presence of noble persons of the palace, no matter what they say, never contradict them. Even if you don’t wish to do something, you must at least agree on the surface.

She took this same attitude with Zhao Yanze — she appeared casual and familiar, yet at her core she still held to that principle of walking beside a ruler as beside a tiger. But if one were to scrutinize things too carefully in this world, all the joy would drain away. Life is short, and it pays to remain blissfully heedless of certain things. If she could walk a stretch of road with the one she cared for in such a fragrant spring warmth of peach blossoms, why think too clearly about it?

Zhao Yanze wore a slight smile and strolled along slowly behind Shen Biwei. His health was poor, so he walked slowly too, and needed to rely on a walking staff. Shen Biwei hadn’t paid it any notice at first — but after they had walked a stretch and she happened to glance over at it, she reacted.

“Let me see your walking staff.” She frowned hard, hardly daring to believe it. She looked closely — there were indeed five-clawed golden dragons carved on it. She understood at once: “You took the Emperor’s walking staff?”

“What if His Imperial Majesty bestowed it on me?” Zhao Yanze still teased her with a smile. Seeing he couldn’t bluff his way through, he laughed: “All right — the Emperor had us in the study and was testing us on our readings. I spotted this walking staff, thought it was convenient, and the Emperor gave it to me.”

Even without the details spelled out, Shen Biwei could well imagine the scene: there was certainly more than just him in the imperial study — all the imperial princes would have been there. On one side, the solemn imperial father quizzing the princes on their written work, every prince trembling with nerves; on the other side, him chatting and laughing breezily, even casually asking for the Emperor’s walking staff. That scene was probably one those princes would still remember at age forty.

Shen Biwei immediately scolded him.

“You love this sort of thing — you never think ahead. You’re only living in today, aren’t you?”

Zhao Yanze endured the scolding with only a faint smile, and said: “You like it? I’ll give it to you then.”

“What would I want that thing for? You keep it yourself.” Shen Biwei said dismissively.

But though she was dismissive, she understood the deeper meaning behind it. Otherwise she wouldn’t have led Zhao Yanze all the way to the edge of the peach blossom stream — and then stopped.

“You were feasting here just now?” Zhao Yanze had the palace noble’s temperament — endlessly curious about everything from the outside world: “What’s that, flower name tokens? Played with dice?”

“Zhao Yanze.” Shen Biwei suddenly called his name.

Zhao Yanze looked up at her with a questioning expression.

Shen Biwei looked quietly into his eyes. She had known him since she was five — though they remained bound by the distinction between ruler and subject, to each other, they could be no closer.

“I won’t be marrying anyone, Zhao Yanze.” She told him this plainly, with absolute calm.

Zhao Yanze smiled.

“I know.” He was a clever man — he could hear meaning beneath words, and Shen Biwei had already said it this plainly. He then said: “I’m returning to the Qingliang Palace tomorrow.”

The palace that all the officials had opposed — the Emperor had granted it to him after all. To speak one’s truest thoughts: there was nothing much worth contesting anyway — it would all be reclaimed before long and returned to imperial holdings.

Shen Biwei paused, wanting to say something, but not quite knowing how. She had no opportunity to say anything either, because from somewhere in the grove came a tremendous cacophony — like ten thousand mosquitoes all humming together, yet the sound was far more dangerous and terrifying than that, enough to make one’s hair stand on end in an instant. The sound seemed to crash down from overhead, setting one’s mind rattling as though an explosion had gone off. A dense yellowish-brown cloud burst from the grove — like black smoke, but moving far faster. It surged toward them instantly.

Shen Biwei was, after all, raised by the Duke of Yongguo — she reacted at once. With one hand she seized Zhao Yanze and pressed his body down low. With the other she tore off her fox-fur cape and draped it over his head. She grabbed Zhao Yanze and called out: “Move! Get to the carriage!” pulling him in a run toward the imperial carriage.

Zhao Yanze had the cape over his head and was completely disoriented, not yet understanding what was happening. He walked a few steps with her before realizing from the humming all around him that it was hornets.

He immediately struggled, trying to stand up and pull the cape off. Shen Biwei had been gripping his neck to keep him down. She tightened her grasp and said: “Don’t you dare stand up — keep running—” and then hissed sharply in pain.

A hornet had stung her. Two more strikes landed on her back. The most important thing now was to keep her head — she absolutely could not fight back. Fortunately, Zhao Yanze’s carriage was not far. She essentially shielded his body with her own as she ran. On that side, Yuan Xiu had already reacted and rushed over to meet them. The others tore off their clothing and fashioned makeshift torches to light. Hornets feared fire, and so the swarm did not come surging over — only a few scattered stragglers, which they beat away with capes.

“Don’t move.” Shen Biwei still had Zhao Yanze firmly by the neck. When they reached the carriage door, she simply lifted him and pushed him inside, slamming the door shut. Then she drew her sword, chopped down several large branches of peach blossom, heaped them on the ground, snatched a torch from an attendant’s hand, and set them alight. Fresh leaves and green branches immediately produced thick rolling smoke.

“Hornets fear smoke more than fire.” She instructed Yuan Xiu: “Go light several more smoke fires — when they see the smoke, the others will know to come.”

“I already fired a signal arrow.” Yuan Xiu said.

Shen Biwei frowned slightly, but said nothing. This was the Han family’s banquet, and if the Prince of Rui encountered danger here, the Han family would certainly bear the blame. Even the Shen family’s spring hunt affair might suffer for it. But it couldn’t be concealed anyway.

While she spoke, she was propping the carriage door shut with her hand. Inside, Zhao Yanze was trying to push it open — he couldn’t budge it at all.

“Quiet.” She reprimanded him: “Stay inside and don’t come out.”

“Are you hurt?” Zhao Yanze’s voice was urgent: “I heard you get stung.”

Shen Biwei was tired of his fretting. She casually stabbed a hornet that was drifting dizzily through the smoke with her sword, and picked the carcass up off the ground to examine. Yuan Xiu watched her fierce and capable manner and hurriedly said: “Sister Shen, be careful.”

“It’s fine.” Shen Biwei said: “Hornets aren’t snakes — they can’t sting once they’re dead.”

Anyone who heard those words coming from the eldest daughter of the eminent Minister Shen would have had difficulty believing their ears. Hornets, snakes — she was perfectly familiar with them all.

“Good — it’s not a tiger-head hornet. The venom isn’t too potent.” She examined the hornet carcass in her pinched fingers, then asked Yuan Xiu: “Do you have any medicine?”

Of all days, Zhao Yanze had to pick today to come with such a small entourage — just Yuan Xiu, one guard, and one eunuch attendant. Though they were all reliable, they weren’t much practical use here. Yuan Xiu, having grown up in the palace, knew nothing about remedies for hornet stings. Shen Biwei saw he had no answer and didn’t bother asking further. She patted herself down to make sure no hornets were hiding on her, then opened the carriage door and climbed inside.

Once inside she shut the door. She knew Zhao Yanze’s carriage well. She first lit the lantern, then tore a strip from her sleeve, wet it, and had him hold it over his mouth and nose to keep the smoke outside from making him choke. Then she held up the lantern, opened the hidden storage compartments in the carriage, and began searching.

“This is a heart-calming pill. This is a wound-clotting medicine. This one — what’s this?” She sniffed it and tossed it aside: “Found it — Nine Treasure Antidote Pill. It can even counter snake venom, so it ought to work for hornet venom too.”

She took out a few pills, first swallowed half of one herself, then crushed the rest and mixed them with water. She mixed a small half-bowl, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Zhao Yanze beside her — who had been looking at her with concern — and turned him this way and that to examine him thoroughly.

Zhao Yanze was like a docile deer, allowing her to check his face and head, then turn him over to examine his body, pinch his limbs, and feel along his back. “Is anything hurting anywhere?”

“No.” Zhao Yanze, somewhat disheveled from being prodded and squeezed by her, answered compliantly.

Shen Biwei then paid him no further attention. She directly pulled off her own garment — and nearly sent Zhao Yanze leaping to his feet in shock.

“Sit down.” Shen Biwei glared at him: “There are hornets all outside. Do you want to go out there? How is your eyesight?”

“It’s… it’s fine.”

Shen Biwei changed her clothes quickly. In a short time she had removed everything down to a deep crimson bodice. Her skin was snow-white — her shoulders, arms, chest, all as though carved from snow. The entire carriage seemed almost luminous. Even Zhao Yanze, deep as his composure was, didn’t know where to look; his face flushed crimson.

Shen Biwei pulled out a small dagger, clamped the scabbard between her teeth, and set to trimming a twig in a focused and methodical way. When it was done she handed it to Zhao Yanze, held the lantern up over her shoulder, and said: “Help me get the stingers out — leaving the venom in only makes it worse. See those red swollen spots? That’s where they are. Two on my back — one on the left shoulder blade, one on the right shoulder. And one on my lower back.”

Zhao Yanze knew that she had shielded him with her body and taken several stings for it. He steadied himself and agreed, taking the lantern from her.

He was a man utterly accustomed to being waited upon, someone who had never even lit a lantern himself — he was inevitably a little clumsy. The twig Shen Biwei had trimmed was thicker than his fingers, and after pressing twice, he had made no progress at all.

“Can you manage? If not, call your little eunuch in. I still need to go look for people afterward — Lingbo and the others are all still at the stream. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d had hornet stings before and know I’d be dizzy within moments, I’d have gone already.” Shen Biwei immediately urged him along.

“I can do it.” Zhao Yanze said, his face flushed.

He learned quickly enough — before long, he really had gotten the stingers out of Shen Biwei’s wounds and applied the medicine. The hardest was the one on her lower back: Shen Biwei leaned forward without the slightest self-consciousness, her hair cascading down her back, her waist bare. Yet Zhao Yanze, having been raised from childhood in the strict protocols of the imperial palace — men and women seated separately, even lingering glances considered improper — and having no concubines, his health being poor — found himself touching Shen Biwei’s warm, jade-like skin, his face turning scarlet, his hands fumbling about in confusion.

Once Shen Biwei felt the medicine applied, she immediately pulled on her clothes, pinned up her hair, grabbed the remaining pills, and climbed out of the carriage.

“I’m going to find Yanyan. Take him back. Hornets follow the wind — the faster you run, the more they chase. Walk slowly, understand? I’m not sure if there are any gaps in the carriage. If a hornet crawls in and stings him, we’re all finished. Take plenty of torches and use the smoke. Didn’t someone fire the signal arrow? When the main group arrives and drives the hornets completely away, you can all leave together then.” She gave instructions to Yuan Xiu, then suddenly thought of something, and her heart dropped.

“This is bad — Lingbo is still in the grove.” Her face went pale: “A’Cuo has Wei Yushan with her, Qinglan has Cui Jingyu — but Lingbo is alone. I need to find her first, then go find Yanyan.”

“Yuan Xiu goes with you.” Zhao Yanze immediately commanded.

“No.” Shen Biwei said: “If something happens to you, the entire Han family won’t be sufficient repayment. Your safe return is what matters.”

She glanced at the hornet swarm in the peach blossom grove. She couldn’t wait any longer. She made up her mind, wrapped herself all over in the cape and soaked it through, took a torch, glanced back at Yuan Xiu, and said: “Once you’ve escorted His Highness back safely, I have a favor to ask you — go to the Water Pavilion over there and find a girl named Yanyan. She’s wearing red today, with peach blossoms embroidered on it. I’m going to find Lingbo — I’m afraid she may not have made it to the Water Pavilion, and could be in danger.”

“Sister Shen, rest assured.” Yuan Xiu said earnestly: “Once I’ve delivered His Highness safely, I will certainly come back.”

“Good.” Shen Biwei was about to go when she heard Zhao Yanze call: “Shen Biwei.”

From childhood he had been a royal among royals, a noble among nobles. He had long since grown accustomed to preserving himself, because he knew how highly the Emperor regarded him: the slightest misfortune to him would mean disaster for everyone around him. Once, a minor cold of his had resulted in an entire courtyard of attendants being put to death. So by protecting himself, he protected all those around him.

But Shen Biwei was always different.

He knew perfectly well he couldn’t keep her. She was a hawk in the sky, a wild goose in the clouds — a single person equivalent to an entire army, a solitary wolf of mountain and forest, who would not pause for anyone. Yet she was so courageous, always casting herself in the role of protector, never less capable than the finest of men.

And so all he could do was tell her earnestly: “You must come back safely.”

“Don’t worry. I will come back.”

As she spoke, Shen Biwei turned without looking back and walked into the peach blossom grove, torch held high.