Later that same evening, Li Wu and Shen Zhuxi returned to a place familiar to them both.

The carriage rolled along a rutted field path, the personal guard at the reins wincing as he carefully steered around the seemingly endless dung piles left by the oxen in the road.

From the grass shelters and mud-brick houses along the way, the sound of weeping drifted out without pause, tugging at her heart, pulling it down with each step.

When the carriage reached its destination, Li Wu helped her down.

She pushed open the courtyard gate, long since heavy with dust, and walked back into the place where her new life had begun.

In the tenth month, golden osmanthus blossoms clustered thick along every branch. Clear moonlight, bright as water, danced with the night breeze across the deep green leaves, sending ripples of shimmer across the surface.

The door of the house stood wide open. Inside was empty and bare — it had been plundered so many times that nothing was left of its original contents.

The fine furniture Shen Zhuxi had commissioned at the beginning had vanished without trace. Aside from a three-legged stool in the corner, the main room held nothing at all.

The dust-covered floor bore faint marks suggesting someone had slept here from time to time, driven by desperation.

Both Shen Zhuxi and Li Wu chose, without a word between them, to look past the sight. These past two years had been hard for everyone, and those belongings were better in the hands of someone who needed them than rotting away in an empty room.

A gentle breeze carried the faint, intermittent fragrance of osmanthus, like the easy greeting of an old friend. Shen Zhuxi thought of herself crouching beneath that tree, murmuring her troubles to the osmanthus, and felt as though she were standing at a great distance from that past self. A softness rose from somewhere deep inside her, and her eyes welled up before she could stop them.

“What are you crying for?” came Li Wu’s voice beside her.

She turned her face away to hide it from him, bowing her head to wipe her eyes herself.

“…I’m not crying.” She held firm with her denial.

“Is that a runny nose, then?”

Shen Zhuxi was about to argue back when, in the next moment, she was pulled into Li Wu’s arms.

She instinctively tried to pull free, but Li Wu’s hand — warm and steady as a mother consort still in favor, warm and gentle as the soft moonlight filling the courtyard — moved in slow, quiet pats against her back —

She surrendered to the softness within herself and stayed still in his arms.

After a long while, Li Wu spoke quietly:

“…Have you ever regretted not going with Yu Feng?”

“No.” Shen Zhuxi answered without hesitation. “I don’t regret it.”

The tension in Li Wu’s body released all at once.

A joyful night breeze rustled through the osmanthus tree, and in the moonlit courtyard, the swaying leaves filled the air with the sound of waves.

Li Wu let go of her, and wordlessly used his fingertips to brush the tears from the corners of her eyes before taking her hand and leading her toward the main room.

“I have something to give you,” Li Wu said suddenly.

“What?”

He let go of her hand and strode to the corner to pick something up.

“Your most beloved possession —”

Shen Zhuxi looked at the tattered, bedraggled feather duster in his hand and said crossly: “You’re the one who loves it!”

Li Wu dropped the feather duster on the floor and gave it a few good stomps for good measure.

“Love it? This is the thing I hated most back then.”

Whether he meant he hated the feather duster for jabbing him, or hated it for coming between them — Shen Zhuxi dared not let her imagination run too wild, but couldn’t stop a small, secret sweetness from rising in her heart all the same.

Li Wu pushed the window open, and without so much as wiping the ledge, pressed his hands down onto it. In the blink of an eye, he swung himself neatly out through the window.

Walking through doors was too ordinary — he had to go out through the window. Shen Zhuxi was just about to point out that his clothes had picked up some dirt —

“Come.”

Li Wu turned to face her, extending his hand toward Shen Zhuxi.

The words died in her throat.

She hesitated for a moment, then clasped his hand.

She tried to copy Li Wu’s movements, but she couldn’t manage his ease. After a great deal of effort, she had one leg up on the window ledge when Li Wu slid both hands under her arms and simply lifted her as one would lift a small child.

“Ah!”

Shen Zhuxi gripped his shoulders without thinking.

After Li Wu set her down on the ground, she immediately stepped back and made a show of brushing off her skirt, using the motion to hide her burning cheeks and the heat of her earlobes.

“Since you’ve made the trip back, aren’t you going to visit your exclusive private outhouse?” Li Wu said.

Shen Zhuxi looked toward the outhouse standing not far off and shook her head vigorously.

After more than a year — who knew what had taken up residence in there? If someone had only stolen the chamber pot, she could live with that. But if they had used it and left it unclean… ugh!

Shen Zhuxi quickly cut off her own line of thinking.

The two of them walked around the small courtyard, taking in every corner of it, and at last prepared to leave once more.

“Wait!” Shen Zhuxi suddenly remembered something, shook Li Wu’s hand free, and ran to the kitchen.

Thank the heavens — there was still a little clean water in the kitchen vat. Shen Zhuxi scooped up a ladle of it and ran back to the osmanthus tree, gently pouring it onto the dry earth that had not seen rain in days.

“There’ll be rain sooner or later to do that,” Li Wu said, watching her. “Without you watering it, it won’t die.”

“But it can have water now, before the rain comes.” Shen Zhuxi was unmoved.

Li Wu watched her profile in silence.

She always found fault with her own tears, thought herself not strong enough. But in Li Wu’s eyes, she was already more steadfast than the vast majority of people in the world — like a piece of translucent crystal, firm and clear, shining brilliantly amid the murk of the times.

Kindness was a quality that stood above all other virtues.

Because kindness alone required the courage of self-sacrifice.

It was easy to become hard and ruthless. Staying kind was difficult.

To have been suppressed and hurt, and still choose to face all living things with the same gentle warmth — it was like a tree of crabapple blossoms flowering in the mud, radiant and tender, splendid and eye-catching.

It made it impossible for him to look away.

Li Wu walked over and crouched down beside her.

“Xiangzhou is still held by the rebel forces. Once I take Xiangzhou, I intend to offer it in allegiance to Emperor Yuanlong.”

The words had been turning over in his mind for many days. Only now had he made up his mind to speak them.

“Really?!” Shen Zhuxi looked up, her face lighting up with joy.

With the Great Yan teetering on the brink of ruin, enemies pressing from within and without, pledging one’s service to the Yan throne was by no means an appealing prospect.

That had always been the source of his hesitation.

But looking into those eyes, shining with a brilliance like gemstones, Li Wu felt that everything was worth it.

If the Great Yan truly couldn’t hold on in the end — well, he’d just take his wife and run, and that would be that.

“Really,” he said. “I gave you my word, and I’ll see it through.”

Shen Zhuxi was deeply moved, and had just opened her mouth to speak when Li Wu continued:

“Do I treat you well or not?”

A faint sense of foreboding stirred in Shen Zhuxi’s chest.

“…Well.”

“Is it me who treats you well, or is it that number-one dog who treats you well?”

“…You do.”

“So is it me who treats you well, or is it your father who treats you well?”

This… Shen Zhuxi hesitated.

Her Imperial Father had had his moments of treating her well, but all things considered, Li Wu’s care for her surpassed them. And yet — she couldn’t very well say so outright, could she? Would Mother Consort in heaven not strike her down with a bolt of lightning in the Emperor’s stead?

Seeing her expression twist with inner conflict, Li Wu relented: “Never mind… if I can’t beat your father, at least beating that number-one dog is something.”

He knocked on the osmanthus tree beside him and said, “You’re fond of this tree. Would you like to take it to Xiangzhou?”

Shen Zhuxi was so excited she nearly jumped to her feet: “Can we?!”

“Of course we can. What can’t we do? If you want something, I’ll get you the stars in the sky.” Li Wu said.

Shen Zhuxi’s face went scarlet, and she said in a voice barely above a murmur: “Don’t talk nonsense…”

Li Wu reached over and mussed her hair thoroughly, shaking his head with the exasperation of someone faced with an irredeemable case:

“This silly head — when will it ever figure things out?!”

Shen Zhuxi flung the wooden ladle into his arms, face red, rose to her feet, and walked briskly toward the courtyard gate.

“Silly girl, wait for your husband!”

Li Wu broke into a run after her.

Two days later, San Hu led the main Qingfeng Army force into Yutou County.

Li Wu personally came to the city gate to receive them. When San Hu and the Qingfeng Army went down on one knee in perfect unison and called out “Greetings to the General!” in a great wave of voices, the bystanders on both sides were caught between excitement and awe, and the county magistrate who had accompanied Li Wu to the gate could not stop mopping his sweating brow with his handkerchief.

That San Hu had honored their word left Shen Zhuxi both moved and relieved — moved that Li Wu had placed his trust in the right people, and relieved that Li Wu had indeed taken a risk that could have cost him dearly.

Although Li Wu kept his face composed and appeared at ease, Shen Zhuxi was certain that the admiring gazes all around were making this insufferable man extremely pleased with himself.

His chin, tilted up with pride, was the clearest evidence of all.

Nearly two years of living side by side day and night — by now, a twitch of his brow was enough for Shen Zhuxi to predict whatever nonsense was about to come out of his mouth.

She had never known her own Imperial Father and Mother Consort so well.

“So many soldiers traveled all this way — they must be properly welcomed with a feast,” the county magistrate said before Li Wu, his posture growing ever more deferential in Li Wu’s presence, smiling and bowing. “I have had fine food and good wine prepared to welcome the soldiers — General, if you would please step this way —”

“Not yet.” Li Wu cut him off. “Is everyone assembled?”

The county magistrate was still puzzling over who “everyone” was when he heard Li Que step forward and say, “All present.”

“All officers follow me. The rest of the soldiers stand fast and wait.” Li Wu took the reins of his horse from a personal guard, helped Shen Zhuxi up into the saddle first, and then leapt up himself with practiced ease.

He swept his gaze over the watching bystanders and called out in a carrying voice: “Anyone curious enough can follow along! Hiyah —”

Li Wu pressed his heels to the horse’s flanks and led off at a gallop.

One by one, a stream of townspeople who couldn’t suppress their curiosity broke into a trot to follow behind.

Li Wu’s final destination turned out to be somewhere Shen Zhuxi would never have thought to guess.

The slender, spindly plum tree still stood in its place, but the duck pen — already half-collapsed before — had now been reduced entirely to rubble. The moment Shen Zhuxi’s eyes landed on that lone plum tree, the absurd image came flooding back to her: herself in bridal robes, clambering up into its branches.

So much had changed since then. The memory was still vivid, but her state of mind was utterly different from what it had been.

What was climbing a tree, compared to now? She could throw things at people these days.

“We’re here.” Li Wu dismounted first.

He stood beside the horse, opened his arms toward her.

“Where are the mounting steps?” Shen Zhuxi stared at him wide-eyed.

“Where would mounting steps come from out here?” Li Wu said, keeping his arms exactly where they were. “Just make do.”

Shen Zhuxi’s face went pink, and the heart in her chest began to beat loudly.

She hesitated for a long moment, then cautiously reached out her hand.

Li Wu suddenly grabbed her arm and yanked her sharply toward him.

Shen Zhuxi lost her balance and fell from the horse. Aware of all the eyes behind her, she swallowed the cry that had risen to her lips and squeezed her eyes shut.

No pain came. No hard landing came. She fell into a familiar embrace — warm and steadying.

“With me here, what is there to be afraid of?” Li Wu said.

Shen Zhuxi opened her eyes. Her feet were already on solid ground.

Li Wu pulled her a step to the right, positioning her beside him, and looked up at Li Que and Li Kun, who had just dismounted: “Bring out the things.”

“What things?” Li Kun asked, rubbing the back of his head with a blank look.

“The tools for the meal!” Li Que said.

“Oh! Oh! A meal! Right, I remember now!” Li Kun slapped his palm and his face broke open with understanding.

The two of them walked toward the plum tree. Li Kun stood still while Li Que circled the tree once, found a spot, nudged the earth with his toe, seemed to discover something, crouched down, and began digging with his bare hands.

It wasn’t long before he unearthed an iron ring.

The ring was attached to a wooden plank, most of which was still buried beneath the earth.

Li Que rose, stepped aside, and looked toward Li Kun.

“Your turn.”

Li Kun stepped forward and grabbed the iron ring with one hand. Then he stopped.

He looked at Li Que with displeasure: “You’re not helping? Slacking again… we both eat, but I do all the work alone… I’m done…”

Li Kun was in the middle of his grumbling when Li Que shut him down with one sentence.

“Miss Sui is here too, you know,” he said, looking toward Sui Rui, who was watching from the crowd.

“Ha!”

Before Sui Rui could respond, Li Kun gathered his breath from his core, let out a great battle cry, and hauled the buried wooden plank up out of the earth!

The entire plank was nearly free of the ground, and dirt rained down from every side.

Li Kun roared again, the veins on his arms and neck standing out in sharp relief. The last section of the plank still lodged in the earth came free — and beneath the plank, there were more planks!

Li Kun’s face was flushed scarlet. A sound like a wild beast’s roar erupted from him.

The ground shifted. One after another the planks were pried up, like a great dragon rising from the deep, slowly revealing its entire body!

Shen Zhuxi’s eyes went wide, fixed unblinking on the scene before her, while all around her the watching townspeople broke into a clamor of astonished gasps.

Bang!

Li Kun released the iron ring. The linked planks crashed down with a thunderous boom that sent tremors through the ground.

Before every person present, a hidden chamber filled with wooden crates was revealed.