The Bai Family had been beset by misfortune for years. First, Noble Consort Bai — who had enjoyed great favor from the late Emperor — was cast into the cold palace, and then died by her own hand in loyalty to him when the capital fell. Now, the family’s sole heir, Bai Rongling, had made the tremendous blunder of seizing a princess and vanishing without a trace. It was not only the Bai Family itself who felt as though they had exhausted eight lifetimes’ worth of bad luck; even ordinary bystanders with no stake in the matter had begun to feel that the Bai Family ought to invite a master in to take a look at the household’s geomancy.

A distinguished monk known by the Buddhist name Niubi happened to be traveling through the region and passing by Yangzhou, and the Bai Family spared no expense to invite him in.

Master Niubi presided over a remarkable and elaborate ceremony. Just the invited guests alone numbered fifty or sixty — every one of them a person of repute in Yangzhou, known for their virtue or filial piety. And that was not to mention the porridge stall erected at the gate, which drew nearly every impoverished family in all of Yangzhou to gather outside.

On the day of the ceremony, the Bai Family’s entrance was a sea of humanity, as noisy as a marketplace. The Fu Family soldiers tasked with keeping watch over the Bai Family struggled to maintain order in the crowd.

Unnoticed by anyone, two plainly dressed servants lowered their heads and slipped quickly through the press of bodies into the Bai Family gate.

Once they had passed through the inner gate and entered the rear courtyard, Shen Zhuxi — dressed as a maidservant — let out a quiet breath of relief. Li Wu beside her looked as relaxed as ever, as though it had never crossed his mind that their disguise might be seen through at the gate.

His composure in the face of anything short of the sky itself falling had always been something Shen Zhuxi admired.

Bai Yougang had already dismissed all the household servants from the inner residence and was waiting in the rear courtyard with Bai Laofuren and Bai Anji. The moment he saw Shen Zhuxi, his right hand — gnarled as a chicken’s claw — reached out from beneath his long robe, as he made to kneel before her in formal greeting.

Shen Zhuxi stepped forward quickly and, one hand on each of them, gently supported the two white-haired elders who were trembling as they moved.

Bai Anji, for his part, dropped to his knees and performed a full, formal bow.

“Maternal grandfather and grandmother, please stand on ceremony — your bodies are not what they were, let us go inside and speak,” said Shen Zhuxi with warmth and concern.

Bai Yougang still wore that severe, gaunt expression, his prominent cheekbones lending him a slightly sharp and stern appearance. But the shimmer of tears in those eyes of his carried immeasurable warmth for Shen Zhuxi. He pressed his lips together and, without a word, patted the back of Shen Zhuxi’s hand — as though to say, “Safe return is all that matters.”

Shen Zhuxi, holding one elder’s hand in each of hers, led the two into the Bai Family’s broad, dignified main hall. Since Bai Yougang absolutely refused to sit in the seat of honor, Shen Zhuxi sat there alone, while Bai Yougang, Li Wu, and the others took seats on either side of her.

“I have already heard in rough outline what Your Highness has been through,” said Bai Yougang slowly. “Fu Xuanmiao wears a human face yet harbors the heart of a beast — he is unfit to be a son-in-law. Your Highness need not worry. The Bai Family will stand with you, advance and retreat as one, and will never allow you to fall into that scoundrel’s hands.”

“Grandfather sees clearly and acts with great righteousness — this son-in-law is full of admiration!” said Li Wu, with every appearance of sincerity.

Bai Yougang said, “There are currently two difficulties before us. The first is that Your Highness had a prior betrothal to Fu Xuanmiao — breaking that betrothal and marrying another will inevitably invite criticism.”

“Count it as me taking her by force, nothing to do with Her Highness!” Li Wu declared without hesitation.

“The second is whether the man Your Highness has chosen — the one to whom she entrusts her life — can be relied upon.”

“Reliable! Absolutely reliable! Without question!” Li Wu thumped his chest, his certainty absolute. “If the mountains fall and the trees collapse, I alone will stand firm!”

Bai Laofuren looked at the bold, confident figure before her and felt there was something vaguely familiar about his slick and voluble way of speaking.

Bai Yougang looked at Li Wu as though he had just heard the most absurd joke in the world, tilting his head with narrowed eyes, making no effort whatsoever to conceal his disdain as he said:

“…I can already tell you’re not an honorable man.”

“Great minds think alike!” Li Wu immediately picked up the thread. “I feel we have a remarkable affinity — why don’t we become sworn grandfather and grandson across family lines? I’ll drink to ‘Grandfather’ first as a gesture of respect!”

He raised the teacup from the table and drained it without waiting for Bai Yougang to say a word.

The empty cup came to rest on the table. Li Wu looked at the stern-faced Bai Yougang with a wide grin, his expression all but spelling out in large letters:

“You may dislike me, but there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

When shamelessness meets its match, the shameless one wins.

Bai Yougang shifted his gaze away from Li Wu and back to Shen Zhuxi. He went on:

“…Since Your Highness has already made her choice, it is not my place to say more.” He paused, lowered his voice, and his thin lips twisted slightly as he murmured, barely audibly, “…Since it is who Your Highness has chosen, even if he were a pile of dung… I, Bai Yougang, would accept it.”

Bai Yougang looked at Li Wu and, his expression serious, said, “Now tell me plainly — how many troops do you currently command?”

“In Yangzhou right now, three thousand five hundred. The main force is in Jinzhou — approximately two hundred and thirty thousand.”

“With these forces in hand, what are your plans?”

Li Wu had clearly thought this through long ago, and spoke without the slightest hesitation:

“Take Yangzhou first. With grandfather’s help, taking Yangzhou will be easy. Once Yangzhou is taken, we move on Xiangzhou, rally the displaced victims of the floods who have lost their homes, and close in on Jianzhou from the outside inward.”

“Since you already have a plan in mind, then we’re in good shape,” said Bai Yougang. “By the order of one’s parents and the word of a matchmaker — you have no elders to witness your marriage, and no marriage certificate was prepared. One could say that all this time you have merely been supporting each other through troubled times, calling yourselves husband and wife as a cover. Once Li Wu has taken Yangzhou, if Your Highness is willing, I will preside over your formal wedding ceremony. That way it will also be harder for others to find fault. Your Highness, what do you think?”

“I have no objection,” said Shen Zhuxi, looking toward Li Wu. “And you?”

“I think it’s perfect!”

Li Wu had even less of an objection — legitimacy delivered to his doorstep, and he would have to be a fool not to seize it.

Since both parties concerned had no objections, the matter was settled then and there: once Li Wu took Yangzhou, Bai Yougang would preside over the wedding ceremony for the two of them.

Yangzhou city still looked as tranquil as ever on the surface. No one noticed that the undercurrents beneath the calm were growing ever more turbulent.

A fast horse carrying the Bai Family’s letter of betrothal dissolution arrived in Jianzhou several days later. The soldier delivering it knocked on the gate of the Fu Residence and stated his purpose.

“A letter from the Bai Family?” The steward’s expression betrayed puzzlement, and he reached out to take it — but the soldier did not move.

“My superior specifically instructed me to place this letter directly into Lord Fu’s hands. I must ask the steward to pass word on my behalf.”

What does a letter from the Bai Family amount to? Even if a first-rank official came with correspondence, it would still pass through my hands before reaching the young master!

The steward felt contempt in his heart, though his expression remained composed and impassive.

He drew his hand back into his sleeve, and said unhurriedly, “In that case, you may go back.”

The soldier was taken aback, and stood at the threshold at a loss.

“As it happens, my young master is no longer in Jianzhou. If you insist on placing the letter directly in his hands, then there is no choice but to wait until he returns.”

“When will Lord Fu return?” the soldier pressed.

“As little as a month, as many as several months,” the steward replied with a smile. “The young master’s whereabouts are not entirely clear to me either.”

The soldier hesitated, his face a picture of helpless indecision. The steward paid him no mind, smiling with his customary air of unhurried serenity.

“In that case… please convey the letter to Lord Fu on my behalf.” The soldier finally extended the letter he had kept carefully on his person, pleading earnestly, “Please, steward, be certain to deliver it directly into Lord Fu’s hands.”

The letter hung in mid-air for a long moment.

The soldier’s expression grew increasingly anxious.

The steward finally drew his hand from within his sleeve and unhurriedly retrieved the letter from the soldier’s grasp.

“…Everyone who asks me to pass along a letter says the same thing,” the steward said, a flicker of contempt crossing his eyes as he responded perfunctorily. “I’m only responsible for putting things on the young master’s desk. Whether he reads them or not — that is entirely the young master’s affair. You may go.”

The soldier had barely opened his mouth when the gates of the Fu Residence swung shut before his eyes.

He stared at the closed gates with a helpless sigh, then turned and left.

Deep autumn was drawing near. The ginkgo trees had at some point been stripped to nothing but bare branches, their leaves gone. Red foliage swept from north to south, dyeing mountain after mountain crimson. Outside Tiantian Cave, an endless expanse of red surrounded everything; the blood-red leaves trembled and moaned softly in the drizzling rain.

The Fu Family army — well-equipped and rigorously trained — stood motionless in the rain, only their chests rising and falling gently, a still and deathlike black river that had swallowed the mountain road outside the cave.

Between this black river and Tiantian Cave stood a tall, upright silhouette.

Fu Xuanmiao held a pale-blue paper umbrella. The light wind and fine rain brushed across the wide sleeves of his cloud-blue robe. The hand holding the umbrella was gaunt and white, three small, round, pale-pink scars conspicuously branded into that expanse of pallor. Raindrops fell from the umbrella’s edge, one by one, in a continuous stream that veiled his refined, composed features.

The world was so still. Only the sound of rain continued without pause.

The rainy season had arrived in Shouzhou. After days of waiting, the miasma that had been clinging to Tiantian Cave had at last completely dispersed today.

If they were to enter the cave, today was the most favorable moment.

Three soldiers with thick hemp ropes tied around their waists had gone into the cave to scout the way and returned. Yan Hui watched as the military physicians completed their examination of the soldiers’ condition, then immediately came back to report.

“My lord, the miasma has dissipated. We may enter the cave.”

Yan Hui’s words scattered entirely into wind and rain. Fu Xuanmiao still did not move.

He gazed steadily at the dim, oppressive opening of the cave, his still expression concealing a war raging within him.

There had been a time when he had hesitated like this before.

It was on the road to Shouping village. Back then, just as now, he was both afraid to see her and desperate to see her. The difference was that what he feared today was encountering a disfigured corpse — one brought about by him.

The same anguish, only a hundred times more intense than before. Like two invisible ropes — one wound around his throat, cutting off his breath; the other binding his heart, wringing apart flesh and blood.

Everything he had pursued his entire life, everything he had struggled to hold on to — it had all slipped through his fingers.

Not a single thing remained.

In barely a month, he had lost more than half his weight. The wide garment hung on him as though draped over a skeleton. His expression was still composed — but not the composed stillness of a gentle breeze and mild rain. It was the stillness before the storm. Every wave surged and churned silently beneath those deep, unfathomable eyes, waiting for the moment that would unleash a towering surge.

“Young master…” Yan Hui spoke to draw his attention.

Fu Xuanmiao drew a long, slow breath, let it out quietly, and said softly:

“Order the troops to —”

“My lord! It’s urgent — Lord Fu!” A mounted courier came galloping through the rain, holding aloft a bamboo cylinder streaming with water.

The rider dismounted swiftly, hurried to kneel before Fu Xuanmiao, and raised the bamboo cylinder above his head with both hands, his ten mud-stained fingers trembling faintly.

Yan Hui frowned. “What is this commotion about?”

The autumn wind was harsh and bleak, the fine rain bitterly cold. Even the earth underfoot seemed to be emanating a chill at every moment.

“Yangzhou… Yangzhou has risen in rebellion…”

The courier lowered his head, speaking with trembling caution:

“The Princess of Yue has appeared in Yangzhou. Using the princess’s phoenix seal as proof of identity, she has called upon all those of ambition and resolve from the four corners of the land to join her and… purge the threat to the throne…”

Boom!

The sky blazed suddenly as bright as white daylight, and immediately after came a crack of thunder rolling in from the horizon, as though the very earth were shaking.

The ghastly white light of lightning illuminated every face.

The courier paused, swallowed a mouthful of fearful, anxious saliva, and said in a hoarse voice:

“And also… also…”

The courier stammered for a moment without completing his words. The air beneath the curtain of rain grew heavier and more stifling.

More thunderclaps rolled in, and the rain intensified.

In the near-solidified, suffocating air, Fu Xuanmiao’s low, faint voice was all but swallowed by the sound of rain.

“Speak.”

Having received permission, the courier swallowed again, gathered every last shred of his courage, and said in a trembling voice:

“The Princess of Yue… the Princess of Yue will, in three days’ time, be wed to the former Military Commissioner of Zhenchuan, Li Wu — under the witness of the Bai Family of Yangzhou.”

Yan Hui’s expression changed dramatically. “Young master!”

He moved with sharp swiftness, catching the staggering figure beside him.

“Young master!”

“My lord!”

A mouthful of vivid crimson blood surged up, staining Fu Xuanmiao’s robe at the chest. The drops of blood fell one after another into the puddle at his feet, opening ripples of red across the water’s surface.

Yan Hui’s hand was gripped by Fu Xuanmiao so tightly it felt as though the bones might be crushed. The shocking red blood dripped one drop at a time onto the back of his hand.

The water surface, suffused with red ripples, reflected a contorted face.

Fu Xuanmiao clenched his teeth, yet could not suppress the excruciating pain inside his chest — a pain that felt as though it would tear him apart entirely.

He swallowed down the burning surge of heat rising to his throat and said in a hoarse voice:

“Go… to Yangzhou.”