In autumn, after quite a fuss, Prince Ruian finally moved back from the Daliang Palace, returning home at a leisurely pace.

Naturally, when he returned home, he brought along his attendants, and poor Qiqian was instantly freed from the tedious household affairs.

If it had been before, given her temperament, she would have felt this was too much trouble and simply walked away. But as the Prince Ruian’s residence was rebuilt nail by stone by brick, through layer upon layer of difficulty, she found herself having grown. Young ladies from other prestigious households had been immersed in such matters by their mothers since birth, yet none of them could compare to the experience she’d gained running the household herself over just a few months.

The luckiest part was that she was allowed to make mistakes, allowed to reconsider, and had someone to clean up after her lessons learned—that alone made her quite happy.

Growing through repeated exhaustion, she wasn’t the only one who improved—Ge Sansu, the future wife of Little Seven who had been sheltering at home, had also grown. Only this kind of growth came to an end with the arrival of autumn.

The Book of Rites says: the cool wind arrives, white dew descends, cold cicadas cry, hawks offer sacrifices of birds, and executions begin. This year, the Great Liang dynasty had enjoyed favorable weather, and after the grain was stored, following the autumn wind, at the noon hour, the Ministry of Autumn carried out executions—countless heads fell.

Ge Sansu’s family lawsuit had finally concluded.

The Ge family case, one of extreme evil that abandoned all human ethics, had shaken not only the Ministry of Justice in Yanjing but had also enraged the Emperor and shocked the entire nation. This case touched upon moral ethics in ways no class of society could tolerate, and could be called the first major case since Great Liang’s founding.

Investigating this case was like peeling a cocoon—layer after layer stripped away until it implicated the century-old Wu ink-making family of Yanjing, from top to bottom.

This case fell under the fourth of the Ten Unpardonable Crimes—the crime of unfilial rebellion. Therefore, the main culprits were all sentenced to be cut in half at the waist and publicly displayed for three days, while the rest of the Wu family involved were exiled ten thousand li to the border, never to return.

In an instant, the two great ink-making houses of Ge and Wu, which had nourished generations of Yanjing scholars, vanished into dust.

As the aggrieved party in this case, Ge Sansu’s days were not easy either. One could imagine that if this girl kept her surname and walked through this world as the orphaned survivor of the Ge family, she would never escape worldly gossip for the rest of her life. There would always be people who, under the guise of kindness, would offer unnecessary sympathy that would slowly push this girl—who had struggled so hard to climb out—back into the abyss.

Fortunately, Guan Si’er was a thoughtful child. After often accompanying and comforting her, he used his own connections to contact a Daoist temple a thousand li away, sending Ge Sansu there to observe mourning and take refuge. With this, the two of them had essentially settled their relationship for good.

Early this morning, Ge Sansu finally set off on her journey. Because of her sensitive status, no one else from the household saw her off—though the teacher had someone send over a card to bolster the girl’s courage.

She was leaving by waterway today, boarding at the Lai County dock, sixty li from Yanjing. An inconspicuous convoy of covered carts, carrying the sorrowful Ge Sansu, left the capital, taking two hours to reach Lai County.

Ge Sansu was to board the official ship of a fourth-rank official being posted to the south. A fourth-rank official was already quite significant, so when they arrived, the main dock was temporarily put under curfew to allow the official’s family to board smoothly.

Few people came to see Ge Sansu off—only Chen Dasheng and his wife, along with Guan Si’er.

Chen Dasheng dismounted and began exchanging pleasantries with the official, while Qiqian’er directed the maids and servants to move Ge Sansu’s luggage, repeatedly reminding them of small details.

Even a birth sister and brother-in-law couldn’t have done more than this.

Ge Sansu had always been a woman of few words. Not until two composed, experienced older women helped her onto the gangplank did she finally reveal a face full of sorrow. The wind off the water was strong, and the older of the two women quickly raised her sleeve to shield her, comforting her: “Miss, please don’t cry. The wind here is strong, be careful it doesn’t chap your face.”

The other one also urged: “It’s getting late, and the wind is favorable now. Let’s board early.”

Ge Sansu didn’t move, but pushed aside the sleeve in front of her, straining to look toward the distant imperial city. Some deeply painful memories lingered in her mind, and thinking of something, she released the woman’s hand, stepped off the gangplank, and walked to stand before Qiqian’er, where she slowly knelt and bowed properly, touching her head to the ground.

She understood clearly—if not for the Chen family’s far-reaching influence protecting her, even though the case was settled, whether she could have survived with that large sum of family wealth on display was another matter entirely.

Qiqian’er hurried to stop her, but Ge Sansu looked instead toward the young man standing not far away.

That young man had handsome features, tall and imposing, wearing a plain blue robe, his cloak fluttering in the wind. Seeing Ge Sansu finally look at him, he stretched out a smile.

Qiqian’er held Ge Sansu and urged, “Sister, get up quickly. What are you doing?”

Ge Sansu wept, “Sister, brother-in-law’s great kindness—I, I’m leaving now.”

Qiqian’er quickly helped her up, patting the girl’s shoulders, thin as firewood, and comforted her: “Go on, once you’re there, rest and recover well. What happened before can’t be undone, but life goes on. Rest easy—you have a family, you have me, and you have Little Seven. Little Seven says the scenery up on that mountain is elegant, and the master of the mountain is an interesting person too. Three years will pass quickly.”

Ge Sansu nodded, wanting to smile, but forgot how.

She sniffled, and finally turned to speak to Guan Si’er, saying, “Well then, I’ll be going now.”

Guan Si’er nodded, stepped forward, and walked alongside her to see her onto the ship, saying as they walked: “Once you’re there, settle your heart. Don’t be afraid of things—I’ll handle everything. The people accompanying you are all people your sister-in-law trusts. If you have free time, send them down to the post station at the foot of the mountain to check things. I—I’ll write to you.”

Ge Sansu stared at him, trying hard to memorize his appearance. She wasn’t one for eloquent words, and among a thousand things she wanted to say, in the end she only said: “I understand.”

Guan Si’er had said these words more than once, but she still wanted to hear them—hearing them made her feel she had something to rely on.

Guan Si’er felt reluctant in his heart, and shy too. As she stepped onto the gangplank, he mustered his courage and reached out to support her. Ge Sansu, gathering the greatest courage of her life, tightly gripped his hand, letting him help her aboard.

Guan Si’er’s heart ached as if clawed by a cat, and his face flushed red as he said, “Here, here’s the card I brought for you—guard it carefully. If, if there’s ever trouble on the mountain, take my card down the mountain to find the county magistrate for protection.”

Ge Sansu had thought she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t be weak anymore, but as the ship raised its sail and the moment it left shore, she suddenly gripped the ship’s railing and called out loudly: “Then you… you must write often!”

In this world, if even this person forgot her, then perhaps no one would remember her at all.

Guan Si’er nodded vigorously, waving earnestly at her: “Yes! I understand, go back now! The wind is strong… I’ll go back and write immediately…”

The ship grew farther and farther away, with Guan Si’er and Ge Sansu gazing at each other in a daze. They both understood one thing—once they had been destitute wanderers at the ends of the earth, solitary and unattached with nothing to hold onto, but now, their lives had finally become somewhat more abundant.

As the fleet drifted farther away, one could faintly hear the old woman saying: “Good girl, please don’t cry anymore. Let’s head back—the wind here is strong, and if you catch a cold and fall ill, your husband will worry…”

Guan Si’er stood still, and after a good while suddenly laughed and shook his head, saying: “Hus—husband? Tsk!”

As the official ship left the shore, merchant boats, passenger boats, and fast boats that had been waiting crowded in to dock, while laborers touting for business on the shore and family members meeting their relatives all rushed forward at once.

The dock instantly grew lively and noisy.

Seeing his younger brother so reluctant to part, Chen Dasheng walked over and patted his shoulder, saying: “Let’s go back, you can’t see them anymore. Take your time—look at me, didn’t I endure nearly three years too?”

Qiqian’er let out a snort of laughter and glared at Chen Dasheng.

Guan Si’er was still reluctant to leave, so Chen Dasheng added: “Really, you can’t see them anymore. Oh dear, brother-in-law, you should head back early too. Don’t catch a cold, or you’ll worry our family’s Little Seven Madam, won’t you?”

This was the first time this child had been teased like this, and he immediately flushed red and shouted low: “Brother! What are you saying? With so many people around, what are you saying?”

Hearing Chen Dasheng being so outrageous, Qiqian’er raised her hand and swatted him, then said to Guan Si’er with a smile: “Your brother has been spoiled by your teacher into acting like a child again. Look at him now—does he seem like an older brother at all? Just a few days ago he was fighting over a cat with Youtian from Qingguan’s family, and actually made the child cry.”

Chen Dasheng scratched his head, full of happiness, then turned and saw good river fish for sale at the dock, so he gave money to a servant boy to go buy some to bring home—something fresh for father to try tonight.

Having seen Ge Sansu off, as if seeing off a new life, Guan Si’er stood on the shore. Though reluctant, his mood gradually brightened. Watching his elder brother and sister-in-law buy fish, he didn’t join in the lively bustle, thinking instead that the water before him connected to that person, so standing here didn’t count as separation.

After buying a pile of river delicacies, Chen Dasheng helped Qiqian’er into the carriage. Seeing his brother didn’t want to leave, he untied a long whip from his waist and walked over to coil it around his brother’s waist.

The rules in Yanjing had grown stricter and stricter—drawing a long blade meant taking a life, so out of necessity, over these years they had practiced some other self-defense skills. Generally in a fight, this whip was the mildest, and it saved them from leaving no survivors.

After helping his brother fasten it, Chen Dasheng instructed: “Stay if you want to stay, but be extra careful. This Lai County dock is the territory of the old canal gang and old merchant guilds, full of hooligans and idle hands, plenty of scoundrels around. Don’t be like your Jintai brother—strolled around the Six Market district with his wife, and had that big shot Lao Dao’s wife’s purse stolen right off her.”

Guan Si’er smiled and nodded, seeing his brother and sister-in-law off in the carriage. Once they were out of sight, he found a secluded, elevated spot near the dock, and stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the distant water.

The dock was bustling, and the most common sight was a small, quick covered boat—Elder Brother said that now the waterways were open, a single person operating such a boat, ferrying goods between two nearby docks, could support an entire family.

He calculated the time again—Su-jie should be arriving at the next dock by now, shouldn’t she? Their official ship was that large, and today there was a good wind too… No, no, the river delicacies here were quite good—would those composed old women make Su-jie something appetizing at noon too, to ease her longing?

Thinking about it, it was rather curious—he had never imagined he would fall for a woman like Su-jie. He couldn’t understand why he’d developed such deep tenderness for Ge Sansu in her darkest moment, or why on that day he had told her, without holding anything back, the life story he had never spoken to anyone else.

Later, watching her forcefully hold back her grief and grow stronger day by day, he had fallen completely.

Thinking about it, it made sense—he and his six brothers were born into humble circumstances, yet were fiercely proud, and their unwillingness to accept their fate had given rise to a spirit of struggling against heaven itself.

If they were to fall for someone, it would surely be someone of the same kind—like Qian-jie, who was no less capable than a man; Yuniang-jie, whose resilient spirit could carry the whole family; Wanru-jie, who remained optimistic despite slander, unafraid of rumors…

Privately, Yougui had joked that unlucky fellows like them, who had walked to the very edge of despair, had become so darkened by misfortune that even the gods and Buddhas couldn’t bear it, and so had sent a group of female bodhisattvas to rescue them.

Lost in thought, Guan Si’er didn’t realize he had become a sight to behold standing there on the shore.

That handsome young man, exuding an air of nobility, stood on the height gazing into the distance, his eyes brimming with tenderness. As the river wind blew, his cloak fluttered, and he began to smile.

Guan Si’er wasn’t one who smiled easily in public. Having endured hardship year after year, when he did smile, it carried the radiant beauty of spring itself.

Countless boatwomen poled past him deliberately, back and forth, some deliberately laughing coquettishly to catch his attention—but unfortunately, this man’s heart was already taken, filled entirely with thoughts of his Su-jie.

Before he knew it, time had slipped by, boats coming and going. Another merchant ship docked, and with the clatter of gangplanks connecting to the shore, a group of young students wearing square scholar caps, not very old, full of youthful spirit, crowded excitedly at the bow.

One of the younger students pointed excitedly into the distance and shouted: “Teacher, look! Such tall city walls—this must be Yanjing!”

Laughter erupted from below the ship, and a rough-looking man standing on a bag of goods teased him: “That’s Lai County! Not Yanjing! Yanjing’s walls reach the sky, they’re so tall—young scholar, you’re mistaken!”

The young man’s face immediately flushed red, and he tried to squeeze back into the crowd, but heard someone behind him say: “It’s a good thing I brought you all out here. Though you’ve studied diligently on the mountain day after day, you’ve been like blind men groping an elephant, relying entirely on imagination. Over there is indeed Lai County’s town, but its walls were just completed with funds allocated by the new dynasty.

As for here, this is the largest dock on this canal. I read in the county government gazette that this dock was among the first water and land engineering projects funded by the Great Liang treasury, spearheaded by Master Qingling, after His Majesty ascended the throne.

The previous dynasty fell into chaos with the people living in misery, until Heaven ordained a wise ruler to bring peace to the realm. Since our Emperor ascended the throne, he has governed diligently, and only through much hardship has Great Liang shown signs of prosperity. Observing the court’s actions these past two years, I think—this realm has gone two hundred years without producing a truly great statesman. If one is to appear, it will surely be in this era!”

Since ancient times, restricting the common people’s movement had given rise to travel permits, but those who could travel freely across the realm were special people—like this boatload of traveling students from other regions, scholars permitted this privilege.

The scene of a teacher leading his beloved students, traveling far and wide to lecture, was one not seen in many years.

But as Great Liang gradually stabilized, and with two rounds of imperial examinations added as a grace period, these traveling scholars had begun once more to journey across the land in groups.

On the merchant ship, the students parted to either side, and the teacher, who had been lecturing eagerly, walked slowly with his hands behind his back to the bow, also quite excited, gazing at this new nation, and began speaking eloquently to his students:

“Throughout the dynasties, no matter which emperor ascended the throne, north-south transportation and the movement of goods have always concerned the ruler. As the saying goes, if the canal transport doesn’t arrive within three months, the ruler and ministers worry; if it doesn’t arrive within six months, the people in the capital weep… Our academy has existed through three dynasties, and holds seventy volumes of comprehensive records of water and land routes through the ages. Now, with this new canal dock, beyond your studies, you must also record these new developments for future generations’ reference—this is the responsibility scholars must bear, beyond mere fame and achievement.”

The students bowed together in acknowledgment, their voices and the scenery unusually pleasing to hear and see, like a splendid vista.

That teacher had perhaps spent half his life teaching, accustomed to speaking clearly before all eyes, and his lecturing voice carried far.

Standing on the shore, Guan Si’er heard it too, but didn’t turn around, only thinking with satisfaction: “Our family’s teacher is held in such high regard among scholars.”

He listened with narrowed eyes, but didn’t see what was happening.

This group of delicate scholars traveling naturally had much luggage. The teacher, growing addicted to his own lecturing, led his group of little fools off the ship with his hands behind his back.

Those who could afford schooling were naturally young masters from wealthy families. As they disembarked, the large trunks and cases were carried and hauled by servants and piled up on the dock shore, drawing attention.

The guards and servants were busy and didn’t pay attention to their surroundings, while these young masters, being young and vain, had—without their teachers noticing—hung all sorts of gold and jade trinkets on themselves before disembarking.

Traveling the world for study naturally meant learning about everything.

As soon as their feet touched shore, the teacher led his students around the dock asking questions: What goods are these? Where do they come from? Where are they being shipped to… What is this tool? What’s its value? How much labor could it save?

Emperor Wu, though he valued talent, was most concerned with practicality, and had little interest in poetry and literature—was even somewhat averse to it.

Scholars throughout the realm taking the imperial examinations, and academies everywhere, always paid attention to methods and approaches, cultivating students’ interests and broadening their horizons according to the emperor’s preferences.

The teacher lectured well, and the students loved learning. The group moved about enthusiastically, and what had been a pleasant scene continued, with teacher and listeners both delighted.

Guan Si’er suddenly heard a sharp, high-pitched scream: “Someone, help! They’re robbing us… Help!”

He whipped his head around and saw, near the edge of a winch not far away, four or five shifty-looking men, clearly no good, jump off a fast boat and instantly surround the group of students.

These men didn’t hurt anyone—they simply swarmed up, deliberately knocking down a few of the more delicate students, snatching the items from their waists, and running.

They often did this kind of work, and all moved quickly. In an instant, having snatched their loot, they turned and leaped onto the fast boat waiting to receive them in the water.

The boatman of that fast boat, bracing a long pole, gave a push against the shore, and instantly and skillfully pulled away from land.

The people around were used to such sights and, perhaps feeling some shame, dared not provoke these hooligans.

The teacher, seeing his students robbed, was naturally furious, and pointed at the hooligans on the fast boat, cursing loudly: “Under the bright heavens, at the feet of the Son of Heaven! Aren’t you afraid the officials will arrest you?”

The lead hooligan, utterly unconcerned, tossed the jade pendant in his hand up and down, laughing: “Serves you right, you bunch of doomed old pedants! You’re the loudest old dog on this whole dock, disturbing my grandfather’s good sleep—if I don’t mess with you, who should I mess with? Pah! Feet of the Son of Heaven? Officials to arrest us? Go ask around—here at Lai County dock, the officials are nothing. I’m the grandfather of that whole pack of dogs, you old dog, don’t you believe it…”

Before he could finish speaking, from the height by the water’s edge, a figure suddenly leaped over like a white crane, landing on the fast boat and startling the hooligans.

The hooligans, accustomed to dealing with victims and officials year-round, had their own means of escape. Seeing someone who could seemingly fly, they knew this wasn’t someone to provoke, and each began stuffing items into their robes, preparing to dive into the water.

Guan Si’er had been listening to praise of the wise ruler and virtuous ministers—in this world, besides his brothers, he most revered his teacher and His Majesty, and since His Majesty also cared deeply for them, he liked him even more. He thought this teacher’s lecturing was the finest in all of Great Liang.

Damn it, who would have thought—these scholars from out of town had barely set foot on Yanjing soil before these bastards ruined their reputation.

Guan Si’er leaped onto the boat, and seeing the hooligans about to jump into the water, he reached for the whip at his waist. With a crisp crack in the air, the students stamping and shouting on the shore stood dumbstruck, watching this godlike figure use the whip to snap up the wretched scoundrels and hurl them onto the shore.

These were living men weighing over a hundred jin each—how could he toss them as easily as weightless goods? This was truly an eye-opening sight.

The hooligans, about to enter the water, were instead caught up by the whip mid-leap and sent tumbling onto the shore.

These men were tenacious too—after tumbling a few times and sensing danger, they scrambled up to run, not expecting that the flying figure from the boat was also formidable on land.

He too leaped onto the shore, wielding the whip with skill in all directions, cracking it sharply, and the scoundrels, covering their heads as they scurried, were struck across the face by whip marks, howling in pain from the fierce blows they took.

They were merely petty thieves, and Guan Si’er dealt with them easily, but his hand came down heavily—disdaining their disgraceful behavior, hearing their pleas for mercy didn’t soften him. He struck one scoundrel a full seventeen or eighteen heavy blows, and only once they collapsed limply did he skillfully withdraw his whip and coil it back up.

This entire beating happened remarkably fast, and by the time everyone came to their senses,

the dock in front of the large sacks was already littered with bodies sprawled every which way, while the one who’d delivered the beating sat comfortably on a burlap sack, coldly looking at them and saying: “Just now, I believe I heard one of these curs say something about being someone’s grandfather?”

Only now did the teachers and the students’ guards and servants finally react, rushing over.

A few quick-witted ones went over and kicked the hooligans, bending down to retrieve their masters’ belongings from their robes. Afraid of being punished, hearts trembling, the servants held the items up with both hands before their masters, saying: “Young master, your jade pendant!”

But his young master ignored him entirely, pushing him aside.

The whole group of students had received a tremendous shock, staring dumbstruck at that very familiar, almost identical face—had he, had he really just used a large whip to beat people?

Just last month they had tearfully bid farewell to their senior fellow disciple at their hometown dock—how had he… in the blink of an eye… arrived at Lai County dock?

No, that couldn’t be right! Their senior fellow disciple was somewhat older than this person, wasn’t he?

One student finally understood and called out, trembling: “Tea… teacher, I think I’m seeing our senior fellow disciple?”

But his teacher had also already been struck dumb—this person, who looked exactly like his second son, was wielding a large whip and beating people on the dock. Could it be… him?

As this possibility occurred to him, his chest surged like turbulent waves…

Before he could say anything, from beyond the crowd, tardy officials arrived shouting: “Make way, make way, don’t delay the official’s business, or watch out for the chains in the official’s hands…”

By the time they arrived with their iron chains, they saw several faces covered in whip marks.

Seeing the patrol finally arrive, Guan Si’er, somewhat impatiently, beckoned to them: “Come here!”

The two officials looked at each other, about to ask who Guan Si’er was.

But he didn’t bother with pleasantries. Jumping down from the sack, he reached behind his waist, pulled out a token, and flashed it at them, saying: “At the feet of the Son of Heaven, in a critical location connecting north and south, how has it become such chaos? Go get your superior officer over here…”