Li Wu departed the following day with Li Kun and Li Que, and Shen Zhuxi moved out of the cramped side room and into a courtyard house that, by comparison, felt like a veritable mansion.

Without the men who had filled the back courtyard with their endless clamor, and without her three family members whom she had seen every day, Shen Zhuxi found herself unexpectedly at a loss.

Not wanting her to starve to death with food and ingredients at hand but no one to cook them, Li Wu found a young girl from nearby named Niang to come to the house and handle the washing and cooking.

The girl was only thirteen, but she was accomplished at both tasks. Shen Zhuxi liked her — Niang was lively and guileless, without a scheming bone in her body. Every day when she came to work, she brought along a piece of fruit or a handful of melon seeds, and she often complained to Shen Zhuxi about her parents’ favoritism toward her younger brother, saying in a fit of feeling that she’d rather stay here doing unpaid work for Shen Zhuxi than go home and face her unfair parents and their spoiled, insufferable little brother.

“With a face as beautiful as yours, Madam, if I were you I’d be smiling every single day without stopping. Why does Madam always go around with her brow furrowed?”

That day, after finishing the washing, Niang dragged a small stool over and sat down beside Shen Zhuxi.

Shen Zhuxi, who had been writing without pause at the desk, looked up with a helpless laugh. “I’m thinking.”

“Madam is always like this,” Niang said, unconvinced.

“I most certainly am not.”

Shen Zhuxi set her brush down to write the last character of that section, lifted the paper, blew on it gently, and set it aside with care.

Niang looked at the stack of paper, now an inch or two thick, and tilted her head in puzzlement. “Madam, you’ve been writing for two days and still aren’t done — what on earth are you writing?”

“…These things might be of some use to Li Wu.” Shen Zhuxi took out another sheet of paper, sat in thought for a long moment, then began writing down yet another account of a bandit suppression operation.

These accounts of suppression campaigns, large and small, had all come to her through bits and pieces she had heard over the years. Some she had memorized as a child while listening at the edge of the imperial study as ministers reported to her father the Emperor on such matters. Others were fragments she had picked up from palace attendants and imperial consorts in passing conversation. Still more had come from military texts and historical records that she and Fu Xuanmiao had browsed through together to pass the time.

Shen Zhuxi learned quickly and retained things quickly — there was hardly a book she had read through once and failed to remember.

When she was very young, she had greatly envied her brothers, who were permitted to attend the imperial study hall. Full of hope, she had gone to her father the Emperor and proposed that she be allowed to study there alongside them — only to receive a sharp scolding from the father who had always doted on her.

Her mother the Consort had stood on her father’s side as well, and had been even more resolute than he was — after the Emperor left, she had scolded Shen Zhuxi again with a stern face.

She still remembered the humiliation of that moment. She had hidden under her blankets and cried for a very long time.

Several years passed, and she gradually came to understand. She gave up, learned to be like the other women around her, and accepted this unavoidable fact.

Beyond the Admonitions for Women and the Biographies of Exemplary Women, she had no need to memorize any books.

For a woman, the only thing she needed to learn was how to be of use to a man.

Whether through diligent thrift and gentle attentiveness, or through beauty and grace and skill in song and dance.

For an unmarried woman, the most vicious curse was: “You will never find a husband.” For a married woman, the most vicious insult was: “You are not worthy of him.”

A man could stand tall and support the world on his shoulders. A woman had to become someone’s appendage.

Was this what a woman was born for?

Was there another way to live — another way, free from shackles, escaped from the cage, living like a bird in the sky, free and unrestrained?

Was it wicked of her to have such thoughts? Was it reckless, wanton, a failure of virtue?

She had never dared voice this confusion and uncertainty within her. She had never told anyone — not even Li Wu.

She had said nothing at all, and yet Li Wu had somehow let her reach out and touch the sky.

Shen Zhuxi had never before, as she did now, pushed herself with everything she had, wracking her mind for every possible means, hoping that her existence might bring him even the smallest measure of help.

Li Wu had taken his two brothers and gone to the post, preparing for the bandit suppression campaign in the days ahead. Alone at home, Shen Zhuxi discovered what it felt like to toss and turn through sleepless nights.

Suppressing bandits was not the petty scuffling of street ruffians. If things went wrong, lives would be lost.

On the first night after Li Wu’s departure, Shen Zhuxi dreamed of the imperial palace consumed by a sea of fire. Among the bodies of countless people, Li Wu appeared, drenched in blood.

She screamed his name until her throat was raw. He looked at her steadily — and then crumpled forward into the flames.

She woke to find the pillowcase beneath her head soaked through with tears.

And then she began writing the bandit suppression stratagem.

She wrung her mind dry and turned her memory inside out.

Everything related to bandit suppression, whether verified or not, she recorded — leaving it all for Li Wu as reference.

Her time was running short. She had to get the stratagem into Li Wu’s hands before he moved out.

That night, Shen Zhuxi kept her lamp burning through the dark hours, and by the time dawn broke, she had emptied everything from her mind onto the page.

She rubbed her stinging eyes, and without pausing to rest, called for Niang and headed out the door.

After flagging down an ox cart, Shen Zhuxi gave the driver the destination. Along the way they passed a braised food stall that had opened early, and she called for the cart to stop, sending Niang down to buy three whole pig trotters and a small jar of good liquor.

Carrying these things, Shen Zhuxi arrived at the centurion post where Li Wu had been stationed these past three days.

The ox cart stopped at the gate of the post. After Shen Zhuxi asked someone to announce her, a minor official in a modest uniform showed her respectfully to the room where Li Wu worked.

He first invited Shen Zhuxi to take a seat, then stepped out of the study. Shen Zhuxi thought he had slipped away without a word and was just wondering why a learned man would be so lacking in courtesy, when he returned at once, carrying tea and a small dish of fruit, personally attending to her as a host.

“The Commander is drilling the troops at the training ground — I have already sent word. The post is simple, with only plain tea and humble fare. Please forgive us, Madam.”

The minor official set down the hot tea and small dish of fruit and folded his hands before his waist.

“Doesn’t the post have servants?” Shen Zhuxi looked around the room, which was furnished so sparsely it felt almost bare, and asked curiously.

The minor official lowered his head. “Originally there were, but the Commander said that expenditure would be better put to use elsewhere, so they were all let go two days ago.”

He had barely finished speaking when a familiar figure strode through the doorway.

In the few days since she had last seen him, he had grown noticeably leaner — his cheeks had drawn inward, his jawline was defined and sharp, and his wheat-coloured complexion had deepened further still, having moved from a field of grain just beginning to ear to the rolling golden waves of a harvest autumn.

He paused in the doorway, and his straight silhouette against the backlight was like a solitary pine standing defiant at the edge of a cliff.

The minor official gave him a quiet bow and withdrew from the room with his head lowered.

Niang, upon seeing Li Wu, greeted him cheerfully before taking herself off to stand guard at the door of her own accord.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Li Wu walked to her and looked her over from head to toe. The words were a reproach, but his tone carried unmistakable delight.

“The post isn’t far from the house — I can get here on my own by ox cart, and besides, Niang is with me. It would be too much trouble for you to come and fetch me.”

“Who said anything about fetching you?” Li Wu raised his voice. “I asked you to tell me beforehand so I could bathe and change my clothes and make myself presentable —”

“What is there to make presentable about you?” Shen Zhuxi said, surprised.

“Can’t a man also bathe and change his clothes and grab… spruce up a sachet or a jade pendant to wear?” Li Wu said. “This is called: a wife comes from afar — is this not a delight?”

“Nonsense.” Shen Zhuxi said.

Li Wu looked her over from every angle, and suddenly his brow furrowed. “Shen Dumpling, why have you lost weight?”

Shen Zhuxi had no awareness of it whatsoever and immediately shot back: “The one who’s lost weight is you.”

“I haven’t lost weight — I’ve been training these past few days, so I’ve gotten more solid.” Li Wu stared hard at her face. “But you’ve definitely lost weight… your chin has gone sharp. Shen Dumpling… while I was away, did you not eat properly?”

Niang, who had been biding her time at the door, immediately piped up: “Madam missed you so much she couldn’t eat!”

“Niang, stop making things up!” Shen Zhuxi’s face went crimson in an instant.

“I’m not making anything up! Madam was eating less than my eight-year-old brother! Master Li, please talk some sense into her — she won’t listen to me!”

Niang got it all out in one breath, stuck out her tongue, and dashed away before Shen Zhuxi could catch her.

Li Wu seized Shen Zhuxi by the arm just as she was about to go after Niang, turned her around to face him directly, and said with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile: “Did you really miss me so much you couldn’t eat?”

This was obviously something Niang had made up out of thin air — and he had the nerve to bring it out and ask her to her face!

Shen Zhuxi was both flustered and indignant. She shot him a cutting look. “What do you think?”

Li Wu chuckled. “I think you missed me.”

Shen Zhuxi kept her expression composed. “Keep dreaming.”

“You’re just being stubborn.” Li Wu took her hand. “If you didn’t miss me, what did you come here for?”

They were alone in the room now. Li Wu’s fingers were threading themselves through hers, his warmth traveling from fingertip to fingertip, seeping into her body degree by degree, stealing its way into her flustered heart.

“Where are Li Kun and Li Que?”

Shen Zhuxi withdrew her hand with studied composure and peered toward the door.

Li Wu’s brow creased, and he looked distinctly put out.

“What do you want them for? They’re covered in sweat!”

“You’re not much better.” Shen Zhuxi muttered under her breath, her gaze drifting to his chin where a faint shadow of stubble had come in. She said it with disdain, but her heart had softened.

“Have you been very tired these past few days?”

“Not too bad.” Li Wu said concisely. “There was a small problem when we first arrived, but it’s been sorted out.”

“How did you sort it out?”

“Men’s business — sorted out with fists, naturally.” Li Wu said without the slightest self-consciousness.

“Have you worked out a strategy for the bandit suppression?” Shen Zhuxi finally voiced the question she had been worrying over all this time.

“I have.”

Shen Zhuxi blinked. “You have?”

Li Wu shut the door and led her to the daybed in the corner of the room.

Most government offices provided their officials with a daybed of this kind, and Li Wu’s showed clear signs of heavy use: the pillow was askew, the blanket had been kicked carelessly to the foot of the bed, and the sheet was a mass of wrinkles from a great deal of vigorous activity — identical in every way to the state of Li Wu’s bed at home after he got up in the morning.

Shen Zhuxi couldn’t bear to look at it and was just about to tidy it up when Li Wu picked up his pillow and thrust his hand deep inside —

Gold bars tumbled out one after another.

“Your ‘strategy’ is to be ready to run at any moment?” Shen Zhuxi’s mouth fell open.

“Fight if we can, run if we can’t. Did you actually think I’d lay down my life for someone surnamed Wang?”

Li Wu’s manner was perfectly natural and utterly unapologetic.

Strangely, his attitude made Shen Zhuxi feel a wave of relief.

She didn’t care whether he made a name for himself or not. A paltry sixth-rank centurion post — she didn’t give it a second thought. If she could return to the palace, she would throw her dignity to the wind and petition the Emperor to bestow him a third-rank title if that was what it took.

She could do without fine clothes and rich food. She only needed the four of them to be safe.

“…Take this.”

Shen Zhuxi produced from her sleeve the thick sheaf of papers she had been personally guarding there, the bandit suppression stratagem she had written herself, and held it out to him with great solemnity.

“What is this?”

Li Wu looked at the ink showing through the pages, took it from her with a puzzled expression, and began to look through it.

Shen Zhuxi watched Li Wu lower his head to read the stratagem, and felt, for reasons she could not quite explain, a creeping nervousness and self-consciousness. She twisted the corner of her garment without thinking and said in a small voice: “Everything written there is things I heard secondhand from my father the Emperor and others — it may not all be accurate, and you’ll need to use your own judgment to decide what applies…”

Li Wu looked up from the stratagem and fixed his eyes on her.

The intensity of that gaze made her voice grow smaller and smaller.

“It may not be of much help, but perhaps…maybe it might give you some inspiration, at least…”

“Did you spend the past few days writing this?” Li Wu asked.

Shen Zhuxi said, against her true feelings: “It didn’t take that long.”

“You lost weight because you were writing this?”

“I told you I haven’t lost — ah!”

A startled cry. The world spun.

Shen Zhuxi was swept up in Li Wu’s arms, cradled against his chest, as he strode in long steps toward the door.

“What are you doing!” she gasped, hurriedly pushing at his chest. “People will see!”

“Let them see —” Li Wu kicked the door open and walked out with long, sweeping strides. “I’m in a good mood today. Let them all see what a remarkable woman I’ve married.”

Li Wu descended the steps in a few long strides, his arms locked around Shen Zhuxi like iron hoops, holding fast against her struggling.

“Bring my horse!”

He bellowed the order, and a young manservant who had been craning his neck nearby to look received his instructions and ran off without a backward glance to fetch the horse.

“Li Wu! Put me down!” Shen Zhuxi cried, fighting to free herself.

“Don’t you want to see what the post looks like? Don’t you want to see where I live and what I do every day?”

His words gave her pause, and her struggling faltered involuntarily.

The manservant came running back with the horse in tow. Taking advantage of her hesitation, Li Wu lifted her onto the horse’s back without a word of further discussion. Shen Zhuxi, frightened and already regretting it, grabbed the saddle and tried to dismount by force — but before she could make a move, Li Wu was already in the stirrup, and with one clean, fluid vault he appeared behind her.

He closed his arms around her, both large hands seizing the reins, and gave a sharp snap.

“Ride!”

The horse reared up, hooves striking the air, and the wind rushed in.

Shen Zhuxi cried out in alarm and fell back, pale-faced, into Li Wu’s arms.