Pei Min noticed the look of longing in Qin Yao’s eyes and realized that, as a sheltered young noblewoman, Qin Yao likely had not had the chance to travel as she herself had. She quietly regretted having spoken without thinking and inadvertently made Qin Yao feel out of place. After a brief silence, she suddenly said: “But A’Yao, you needn’t be in a hurry — perhaps before long, we’ll have the chance to travel.”

Qin Yao was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Pei Min took the map and pointed to a small black dot on the north side of Chang’an for Qin Yao to see. “A’Yao, you must know Yuquan Mountain? I hear that every year the Emperor goes there to soak in the hot springs. The scenery inside the mountain is said to be exceptional — but what a pity that since the current dynasty it has been reserved for imperial use, so ordinary people like us have no way of going inside for a visit.”

Qin Yao nodded, thinking to herself — what a coincidence. Just a few days ago she had heard Kangping and the others mention Yuquan Mountain at the teahouse, and now here it was on Pei Min’s lips again, just days later.

Pei Min continued, then glanced toward the door and lowered her voice: “Just now, on my way in, I ran into Princess Kangping and the Commandery Princess Yishu. Kangping had quite a loud voice — I dimly heard her say that this year, Consort Yi may invite us students from the academy along on the trip to Yuquan Mountain. If that’s true, we’ll finally get our wish and be able to appreciate the scenery of Yuquan Mountain for ourselves. My father told me that the hot spring there is exceptional and does the body a great deal of good. I just wonder, when the time comes, whether Consort Yi will let us soak in the hot spring pool too.”

Qin Yao was momentarily startled, then smiled faintly. “What a fortunate thing that would be.”

Most likely, the Emperor and Consort Yi doted on Kangping and wanted to bring her along to Yuquan Mountain, but out of respect for the academy’s rules, couldn’t bear to make an exception for Kangping alone, and so had simply decided to take all the students together — neatly silencing any criticism.

So going to school alongside Princess Kangping wasn’t entirely without its advantages.

The two of them were still in conversation when a stewardess came to relay a message: “Miss Pei, Miss Qu — the headmistress requests your presence in Weirui Hall. Please come at once.”

Qin Yao and Pei Min exchanged a glance, quickly rose, and straightened their clothing. They checked each other over for anything amiss, and once everything was in order, followed the stewardess toward the front courtyard.

As they passed the front row of dormitories, someone happened to emerge from one of the doors. Qin Yao glanced over without thinking and saw that it was Wang Yingning, and broke into a delighted smile. “Yingning.”

Wang Yingning was equally pleased to see her and quickly stepped forward to take Qin Yao’s hand. “I didn’t see you when I came in earlier — I was just thinking of finding you after the headmistress’s address. Which room are you in?”

Qin Yao glanced at the door behind Wang Yingning and saw it was Room Five. “I’m in Room Twenty-Five,” she said with a smile.

She then introduced Pei Min: “This is my roommate, Miss Pei. Her father also serves in the Ministry of Revenue.”

Pei Min naturally recognized Wang Yingning — her father served as Reviewing Official of the Ministry of Revenue, which meant he was directly under Wang Yingning’s father.

In another person’s position, seeing the daughter of one’s father’s superior would surely call for some flattery and ingratiation. But Pei Min, with her customarily particular temperament, was not one to stoop to currying favor, and simply gave a cool and measured greeting: “Good to meet you, Miss Wang.”

Yet Wang Yingning, far from taking offense, looked Pei Min over with a smile of recognition. “I know you — once when we hosted a banquet at our estate, your father brought you and your elder brother. I remember your brother’s archery was impressive — at the archery performance that day, he bested every other young gentleman at the table, and my father praised him effusively. And you — I remember that you also composed an impromptu seven-character quatrain at the banquet that impressed everyone greatly. You were so young then, yet so widely read, with such a gift for eloquence. It was truly admirable. Miss Pei, am I right?”

Pei Min was momentarily stunned. Her and her brother’s visit to the Wang Minister’s estate had been several years ago — she hadn’t imagined Wang Yingning would still remember them.

Qin Yao, however, was not surprised. Wang Yingning had always been meticulous and thoughtful, the most perceptive and considerate of those around her — it was no wonder she remembered the guests who had come to dine. Especially when the Pei siblings had such distinctive personalities.

The three walked together toward Weirui Hall. Wang Yingning spoke with Qin Yao for a while, then noticed that Pei Min was saying little, and — remembering that Pei Min was very close to her brother — deliberately steered the conversation in that direction to ease Pei Min’s reserve.

“I heard from my father that your brother was appointed Cavalry Commander the year before last and was posted to the Cangzhou garrison. As it happens, I have a cousin serving there — whenever he came home he would mention your brother, saying he was a truly rare and exceptional talent, and had nothing but praise for him. Your brother’s posting term must be nearly up by now — I imagine he’ll be transferring back to Chang’an soon?”

Pei Min nodded. “My brother received his transfer orders some time ago and set out from Cangzhou ten days ago. He should be arriving these next few days.”

“The journey between Cangzhou and Chang’an is not short — it takes considerable effort to make the trip back. Now that your brother can transfer back to Chang’an this time, Minister Pei must be overjoyed,” Wang Yingning continued.

“Mm,” said Pei Min. “Father and Mother have known about my brother’s return for days now and have been busy preparing his courtyard — they’ve been at it for days and still haven’t finished, and I can’t imagine what kind of celestial palace they’re trying to turn it into.”

Qin Yao noticed that Pei Min no longer showed the cold detachment she’d had when they first met Wang Yingning, her tone having softened considerably. She inwardly admired Wang Yingning — she truly knew how to put people at ease, warm and gentle without ever being cloying or tedious.

As they conversed, they arrived at Weirui Hall. Since they had come rather early, only ten or so students were inside, all standing in composed and respectful silence.

Seated in the place of honor at the center of the hall was a lady in magnificent attire, her bearing strict and dignified, her natural authority needing no expression of anger to make itself felt. Almost every student who entered and saw this lady immediately sobered and fell quiet.

Qin Yao caught sight of the noblewoman in the seat of honor and was so astonished she nearly forgot to keep walking. Could the headmistress of the academy truly be none other than the Duchess of Lu?

She recalled the last time she had been at the Duke of Lu’s estate to deal with the demon — the Duchess had caught everyone off guard by striking A’Miao hard across the face and snatching Jiang Sanlang back from A’Miao’s grasp. Her speed of response and decisiveness of action had left Qin Yao both stunned and deeply impressed.

For her to serve as headmistress of the academy, there was surely not a soul in the academy — above or below — who would not be wholly convinced.

The Duchess of Lu’s clear, sharp gaze swept slowly over the gathered young women. When it came to rest on Qin Yao, a flicker of puzzlement crossed her eyes — as though Qin Yao looked vaguely familiar, yet she could not recall where she had seen her before.

Qin Yao quietly stuck her tongue out. This duchess was truly formidable. Last time at the Duke of Lu’s estate, Qin Yao had disguised herself as a male Daoist; now she appeared in the full dress of a young noblewoman — the two images could not have been more different. And yet the Duchess had already sensed something.

Fortunately, the Duchess’s gaze did not linger on Qin Yao for long. Seeing that the students were filing in one by one, she turned to the teaching assistant beside her. “Check to see who has not yet arrived.”

A short while later, the teaching assistant returned and reported: “Madam, all students are present except for Princess Kangping. Shall I go and urge Her Highness to come?”

Upon hearing this, the Duchess showed not the slightest surprise and replied coldly: “No need.”

The hall was utterly quiet, the atmosphere tense and oppressive. The students didn’t even dare breathe too loudly. They waited through half an incense stick’s time before they finally heard a clattering sound from outside — Kangping, stepping in a pair of large crimson summer boots.

Sensing the icy atmosphere in the hall the moment she entered, Kangping hesitated and swept her gaze over everyone in bewilderment. “Didn’t you all say we were gathering here? Why isn’t anyone talking?”

The Duchess looked at Kangping with a stony face and said to the teaching assistant beside her: “Read Article Eight of the academy regulations to Princess Kangping.”

The teaching assistant accepted the order, cleared her throat, and read aloud in a ringing voice: “For all lectures and addresses, students are not permitted to arrive late without valid reason. Violators shall be confined to their quarters for one day; those who refuse to comply shall be confined for five days, until the student has shown true repentance.”

Kangping was momentarily dumbstruck, then argued: “But I’m not late — it’s only just past the hour of Si! Madam Jiang, how can you treat me like this?”

The Duchess did not so much as blink, and said levelly: “Bring the Princess to the reflection room. Have her reflect for one day.”

Kangping cried out in outrage: “Madam Jiang, and you’re supposed to be Eleventh Brother’s maternal aunt! How can you be so unreasonable? I’m not going to any wretched reflection room! Hey — you lot, how dare you try to restrain me, get your filthy hands off me—”

From seemingly nowhere, two powerfully built matrons appeared, both with a rock-solid stance that made it plain they were trained fighters. They hoisted Kangping up from either side and carried her out.

Kangping shouted furiously: “Xia Yan, say something for me! Xuenu! Xuenu! Come help me!”

The maidservant called Xuenu had been thoroughly warned by the Emperor and Consort Yi before setting out — she was absolutely not to help Kangping cause trouble at the academy, or she would be severely punished. Glancing at the Duchess’s expression, which had not shifted by so much as a hair, Xuenu shrank her neck back and quietly stepped aside.

It was the first time in Kangping’s life that Xuenu had refused to do her bidding. She gaped in astonishment, so startled she forgot to keep shouting, and was steadily dragged off to the reflection room by the two matrons.

Weirui Hall fell back into silence.

Qin Yao stole a glance at Xia Yan, who had not said a word to help Kangping from start to finish. She stood at the front of the hall, her expression serene and undisturbed, graceful as a jade magnolia in bloom.

Just as Qin Yao’s thoughts were drifting, the Duchess’s steady voice suddenly rang out — she had begun to read the academy’s guiding principles.

Qin Yao quickly turned her gaze away from Xia Yan, looked straight ahead, and listened attentively to the Duchess’s address.

That evening, Qin Yao removed her hairpins and jewelry, finished her washing and grooming, changed into a pale yellow sleeping garment, and lay down in bed.

Thinking of her family and her master, Qin Yao tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep. After fidgeting for a while, she simply hugged her knees and sat up in bed.

From her angle, she had a perfect view of the half-moon outside the window. Silver-white moonlight came through the window and fell over Caiping, who was sleeping on the day bed by the window, bathing her whole body in soft luminescence.

Qin Yao watched in silence for a moment, then spoke: “Caiping — the night air is heavy with dew. Don’t keep the window open; the night breeze will get in, and you’ll wake up with a headache in the morning.”

Caiping wasn’t asleep either. She turned over at the sound of her name and whispered toward Qin Yao: “Miss, it’s so warm — I’m feeling a bit stifled. I’ll only leave it open a little while longer and close it soon.”

Qin Yao was about to say more when there came a hesitant knock at the bedroom door. Then Pei Min’s voice came from outside: “A’Yao, are you asleep?”

Qin Yao answered at once: “Not yet.” She told Caiping to light a lamp, then went to open the door.

Pei Min had changed into her sleeping clothes as well, with a duck-egg-blue jacket draped over her shoulders. Coming in and seeing Qin Yao already in bed, she felt somewhat embarrassed and smiled. “I couldn’t sleep, and thought perhaps you were awake too, so I came to chat.”

She walked over to the side of Qin Yao’s bed and sat down at its edge.

Qin Yao shifted inward to make room, smiled, and asked: “Are you missing your parents?”

Pei Min sighed. “That too — but I’m also so used to sleeping in my own bed at home that suddenly being in a strange place, I truly can’t seem to adjust.”

Qin Yao nodded. “Same for me. Today the headmistress said that once every half month we may go home for a day. That’s something, at least — we won’t be stuck here with nothing to look forward to.”

“That’s true,” Pei Min said, furrowing her brows. “My brother will be back in just a day or two, and I haven’t seen him for nearly a year. I absolutely must go home for a visit — I just don’t know how to apply for leave, and even if I do ask, the headmistress will probably refuse.”

“The headmistress is extremely strict with rules — she even punished Princess Kangping today and didn’t let anyone off. You’d be better off waiting for the half-month break if you’re not in a desperate hurry — no need to run into a wall trying with the headmistress.” Qin Yao was beginning to feel a little chilly and reached back to pull a light gauze coverlet over herself.

“But I really do want to see my brother — I keep thinking that even if I don’t go home, my brother will come to the academy to find me.” Pei Min took off her shoes, curled her legs up, and sat hugging her knees, resting her chin on them with a subdued expression.

Then, as if remembering something, she raised her head to look at Qin Yao. “A’Yao, I heard that this academy was shut down over ten years ago and only reopened this year. Do you know why it was closed back then?”

Qin Yao shook her head. “I don’t know either. All I’ve heard is that something happened back then and the late Emperor suddenly issued an edict dismissing all the students and closing the academy — and it was never reopened after that. I asked my father, and even he doesn’t know what happened.”

Hearing this, Pei Min’s mind jumped to the strange tales and weird chronicles like the Records of the Search for Spirits she’d read in the past, and she smiled mischievously. “Could it be that the academy was haunted?”

Caiping, on hearing this, gave a frightened shudder and immediately pulled her blanket up over her head from top to bottom.

Qin Yao smiled faintly, and said with certainty: “I’m quite sure it wasn’t.”

She had not been without her compass for a moment since entering the academy that morning, and it had not stirred in the slightest — which meant there was clearly no evil presence within the academy grounds.

Outside Chang’an city, the night was deep and still.

From the far end of the road came the sound of steady, rhythmic hoofbeats.

The figure leading the group was a young general in armor, no more than seventeen or eighteen years old, with a straight and upright posture and clear-cut, handsome features. He rode a fine horse at great speed, pressing forward relentlessly and kicking up clouds of dust in his wake.

The horse’s mouth was flecked with white foam — it seemed to have nearly reached the limit of its strength, pushing itself forward for a while longer before one of its hooves suddenly buckled. It staggered and lurched toward the side of the road, on the verge of falling.

The young general moved with exceptional swiftness — before being thrown from the saddle, he launched himself off the horse in a leap, and upon landing rolled to absorb the force of the fall.

The several attendants riding behind him saw what happened and immediately reined in their horses, leaping down and rushing over. “General Pei, are you all right?”

Pei Shao had already risen to his feet. He patted the dust from his clothes and said: “I’m fine.”

Looking around to get his bearings, he noticed not far off a magnificent mountain whose layered and undulating peaks had a rather unusual silhouette — in the darkness, it looked uncannily like a reclining ox. He smiled and said: “We’ve reached Five Oxen Mountain! We’re only a few li from Chang’an city. Let’s rest here a moment, let the horse drink, and then continue on.”

The various deputy officers assented, took their water flasks, and gave the half-dazed horse something to drink. Someone else struck a fire on the ground to ward off any snakes or wild animals from the mountain that might venture near.

Not far away there seemed to be a body of water — the sound of gently flowing water drifted to them from time to time.

The group sat around the fire and talked for a while, until Pei Shao glanced at Five Oxen Mountain, looming with an oppressive air in the darkness, and ordered his deputy officer: “Check if the horse has recovered — we shouldn’t linger. Let’s move out.”

The deputy officer acknowledged the order and walked toward the stand of trees behind them. A moment later, the man let out a rather baffled sound. “I could have sworn I tied all the horses here — why is one missing without explanation?”

Pei Shao and the other officers heard this and their expressions instantly sharpened.

Pei Shao rose quickly and called to the man standing before the tree line: “Don’t waste time investigating — just untie the horses and bring them over. Wang Da, Shen Yun — you two share a mount. Everyone else, to horse. We ride out now.”

He finished speaking and turned to go — then suddenly stopped in his tracks, his complexion shifting to something extreme, as though he had abruptly caught sight of something utterly terrifying. He stood there rigid, frozen in place.