“Young Master, please let this subordinate—” Yanhuai could not help himself and spoke up.

Fu Xuanmiao paid him no mind and, with the lightest possible touch, gathered the female body in his arms and descended from the carriage step by slow step.

The deep of night held Xiangyang in utter silence.

The moonlight, as though in pain, curled in on itself, pressing close to the still earth.

Its faint and feeble glow could not light the path ahead for one who walked alone in the dead of night.

“Young Master…”

“Young Master…”

One cry of astonishment after another rose in his path as he walked, and person after person, in shock and terror, dropped to their knees.

Fu Xuanmiao moved like a wandering spirit, eyes fixed forward, and carried the female body into the main bedchamber of the residence where they were lodged.

He set her down in the empty room, cradling the back of her head, and with great care settled her against the bed.

Several maggots dropped from her body, writhing on the tattered remnants of her skirt. A pair of bony-knuckled hands gently brushed them away.

He wanted to clean away these things that had been feeding on her flesh and blood, but no matter how diligently he tried, new white forms kept emerging from her hair and clothing.

“Bring boiling water and cloths, and prepare a fine set of garments,” Fu Xuanmiao said, his voice low and rough.

Yanhuai, who had been standing guard at the door himself, answered at once, and immediately instructed the terrified maids standing in the courtyard to comply.

Before long, the boiling water and cloths were brought to the bedchamber.

Fu Xuanmiao gathered her in his arms once more, and with the utmost care lowered her into the water that was still billowing with scorching steam.

A sizzling sound rose. Heat roiled. The air filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Fu Xuanmiao stood within it, his face unchanged, and picked up the cloth to wipe away the blood and filth on her face.

The cloth soaked in boiling water peeled away her skin inch by inch — and reddened his pale hands until they glowed like the morning sun.

He peeled her away with his own hands, just as he had brought her down from the sky with his own hands.

From beginning to end, all completed by his own hand.

The steam rising in the room blurred his vision, yet her every glance and smile grew clearer and clearer before his eyes.

A droplet of water fell into the reddening surface, blooming outward in ring after ring of ripples.

Fu Xuanmiao’s hand moved to rest upon her cheek. The blazing heat of the bone made the tips of his fingers tremble.

“I regret it,” he said, his voice hoarse.

He had once believed that rather than meeting again only to find things changed while the world remained the same — it was better to be parted forever while the image of her was still beautiful.

What he had believed was only what he had believed.

“…I regret it, Xi’er.”

……

Yanhuai stood outside the door in fear and trembling, until a cold “Come in” sounded from within the room.

His heart lurching with every step, he walked into the room thick with its strange smell. Not daring to look at the master seated on the bed, nor at the white bones beside him, he kept his eyes lowered and his voice still, not daring to say a single word.

“Who prepared this set of garments?”

Yanhuai hurried to reply: “These were the garments the Military Commissioner of Zhenchuan sent yesterday, along with some rare and unusual objects, all of which are stored in the back courtyard warehouse. Li Prefect seems to have selected them with an eye to what young women of the present day favor — they are all bright colors. If you are displeased, Young Master, this subordinate will immediately send someone to the cloth shop in the city to bring back more!”

Fu Xuanmiao looked at her, dressed now in the fragrant-leaf red garment, and said: “…Leave it.”

Yanhuai paused his hurried steps in surprise.

“For the last time, let her go in a garment she would have liked.” Fu Xuanmiao smoothed the creases from the collar of her garment and said quietly: “Is the coffin prepared?”

“Yes, Young Master — it is ready, just outside the door!”

“Go out.”

Yanhuai’s gaze could not help but sweep once more over the skeletal remains on the bed. He hesitated, opened his mouth, wavered for a moment, and ultimately swallowed down whatever words of counsel he had, clasping his hands in a bow:

“…Yes.”

After the door closed for the second time, Fu Xuanmiao looked at her — composed and shy as she had always seemed — and said quietly:

“You are no longer capable of betraying me, are you?”

Only dead silence answered him.

The tightly shut door opened once more.

Fu Xuanmiao carried the clean white bones out, his black shoes treading upon the cold pallor of moonlight, and came finally to a stop before the coffin that had been found at short notice.

He lowered the bones gently into the coffin and said softly:

“…Xi’er, let this be a slight discomfort for now.”

The white bones were silent and obedient, accepting all his arrangements without a word. The pale crimson garment on her form made him think of the only time he had ever seen it on her.

That was when the first signs of a rift between him and the Crown Prince had begun to appear.

After he had helped the Crown Prince scheme and eliminate several of the brothers who had coveted the Crown Prince’s position, the Crown Prince had begun to fear the combined influence of the Fu and Bai families after their union by marriage. Not only had he failed to fulfill his promise of supporting the betrothal, but he had gone over to the emperor’s side and begun placing obstacles in the path of the two families’ marriage.

It was the day after he had given the Crown Prince a taste of bitter defeat that he had seen that crimson garment on her.

“You were always such a fool…” he said, gazing into her eyes, which no longer shone with clarity and brilliance. “Mistaking false sentiment for true feeling…”

And in turn, leaving the one who had been playing a role…

To fall, unknowing, into it in earnest.

Fu Xuanmiao settled slowly to the ground beside the coffin, like a stiff and clumsy old man. He leaned against the cold wood of the coffin, motionless as a stone effigy. His hands, red as fire, hovered at the coffin’s edge, fingertips lowered as though they might reach in and touch her slender bones.

High overhead, the moon was slowly swallowed by the clouds.

The east grew faintly bright. The thin mist dispersed. A thread of golden light cut through the dim sky.

A figure with heavy, slow footsteps pushed open the door of the storage room.

Fu Xuanmiao stepped inside. His gaze swept over the brilliant-colored garments, pearl-and-jade hats, pearl bracelets and gold-plated hairpins, and the ivory figurines housed behind latticed golden gauze cabinets — everything that, had she been here, she would have cried out in delight over, her eyes shining bright.

All of it: things that cut into his heart like a blade twisting in the wound.

Fu Xuanmiao walked to the golden gauze cabinet and slowly reached toward a small figurine wearing a red skirt — then drew his right hand back before it could touch her, his hand traced with threads of blood.

Then, with a single sweeping motion, he knocked over the cabinet.

The figurines crashed one after another to the ground in a clatter of noise.

Fu Xuanmiao slid down against the cold wall and sank slowly to the floor. Not far from the toes of his black shoes, a splash of morning light lay directly ahead.

The morning light that would take pity even on shattered things — yet on him alone, it turned a blind eye.

He sat amid the wreckage, his voice barely above a breath:

“The phoenix-bird soars among the purple clouds and rainbow haze.”

“The day they each fly their separate ways, both cry out in grief.”

“The red sun burns above the river embankment…”

“And fills my heart and soul with sorrow…”

……

Shen Zhuxi had been sleeping in a daze when she was startled awake by the sudden flare of candlelight.

She blinked, eyes heavy with sleep, and sat up from the table, finding Li Wu seated motionless beside her — while outside the window, it was already broad daylight.

“When did you get back?” she asked in surprise. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“…You waited up for me for two nights?” Li Wu said, his voice rough and hoarse.

Shen Zhuxi didn’t want him to worry, so she laughed it off: “I fell asleep by accident while reading.” She suddenly remembered something and said quickly: “Have you eaten dinner yet? Shall I have someone bring some food?”

“All right,” Li Wu said.

Shen Zhuxi had just started to rise when Li Wu caught her by the wrist, looked into her eyes, and said:

“I want to eat eggs you’ve boiled yourself.”

Shen Zhuxi was puzzled, but she agreed to his request and went to the kitchen to light the fire and boil the water herself.

“Aren’t you going to call a maidservant?” Li Wu leaned against the doorway watching her.

Shen Zhuxi, tossing firewood into the stove, said with a proud air: “I’ve long since learned to light a fire myself.”

She was right.

Clumsy as she was, the flames inside the stove still rose steadily under her tending.

She set the pot to boil, fetched the eggs from the cabinet — unpracticed, yet everything proceeded smoothly enough.

Once she had placed the eggs into the water, Li Wu walked over, took her two hands in his, and held her ten fingers — no longer as delicately soft as those of a pampered daughter of nobility — tightly in his own.

“You’re doing—”

Shen Zhuxi’s words broke off and she stood still.

Li Wu brought her hands up before him, and on one finger after another he placed kisses as light as a feather.

“Once your elder brother has established his capital, we will retreat to the mountains and forests,” he said.

“But you…”

She knew how difficult it had been for him to reach where he stood today.

She could feel the ambition burning in his heart — the desire to make something of himself, to rise above where he had begun.

Because she understood it so deeply, she was all the more shaken — beyond words — by what he had just said.

“A man cannot be too greedy,” Li Wu said. “Among all the rare treasures of the world — I only need one.”

The astonishment on Shen Zhuxi’s face gradually gave way to something firm and unwavering. She looked at the man she had chosen for the rest of her life and nodded with great conviction: “All right. When elder brother has established his capital, we will retreat to the mountains and forests.”

“If we retreat there, I cannot give you a grand wedding, nor can I let you live the life of a great lady… Even so, is that all right?”

Shen Zhuxi was startled by his rare, uncharacteristic hesitation — and then broke into a brilliant, glowing smile.

Her hands were still held in Li Wu’s. Every time, it had been him forging through all obstacles to come to her.

She wanted to be the one to take the initiative, just this once. She wanted to do something for the only man she had ever chosen for her life — to become the light that illuminated him, or the earth that sustained him.

“As long as the one standing beside me is you—”

Shen Zhuxi gathered her courage and met Li Wu’s straight and steady gaze.

“Above — I’ll go. On the ground — I’ll go… Into water or fire, I will go with you.”

……

The water boiled, and the eggs were done.

Li Wu stood beneath the osmanthus tree that had been transplanted from Yutou County, tossing the scalding hot eggs from hand to hand.

Shen Zhuxi stood to one side and watched with worried eyes as he juggled the boiling-hot eggs like an acrobat.

Every time she thought the eggs were about to meet their end in a smashed ruin on the ground, his large hands rescued them before it could happen.

“Let me soak them in cool water,” Shen Zhuxi said, unable to help herself.

“No.” Li Wu refused flatly and kept on with his performance.

After a while, he glanced sideways at Shen Zhuxi, a smug tilt to his chin:

“…What do you think — is your husband impressive or not?”

Shen Zhuxi was just about to answer when a figure emerged from the front courtyard and stood beneath the carved eaves.

“Elder brother,” Li Que said, “the Deputy Chief Administrator is about to depart, taking Princess of Yue’s coffin with him.”

Shen Zhuxi had learned from Li Wu in the small hours of the morning what had happened at Shouping Village. Now, hearing the words “Princess of Yue’s coffin,” she could not help but feel her expression grow complicated.

“Let him go,” Li Wu said with complete indifference. “He didn’t come to tell me himself — don’t expect me to go and see him off.”

“I am leaving as well,” Li Que said.

Li Wu’s body went rigid at once. His sharp gaze shot toward Li Que like an arrow.

Shen Zhuxi was also struck dumb by those words. The unattended eggs were about to crash to the ground — Li Wu bent down sharply and caught the falling eggs in one hand.

He gripped the eggs and strode toward Li Que, coming to stand directly before him, his gaze riveted on Li Que’s face.

“What kind of joke is this?”

“Elder brother, I am not joking.” Li Que met his gaze calmly. “It is only natural for a bird to choose the finest tree, and a worthy official to choose the worthiest master. Elder brother rose from humble origins — at most, you can be a Military Commissioner. Why would I remain as a foot soldier under your command when I could go serve the first gentleman under heaven?”

“Does working under me as a foot soldier compare to working under Fu Xuanmiao?! When have I ever, at any point, treated you as a mere foot soldier—” Li Wu’s expression shifted dramatically, and fury leapt in his eyes.

Shen Zhuxi had never before seen him show true anger like this.

She stared at Li Que in stunned concern, unable to understand why he would suddenly want to change allegiances. In her heart, Li Que was simply not the kind of person who would do something like this.

“Under elder brother, I could at most become a prefect. Under Fu Xuanmiao, perhaps I could even become a Military Commissioner. Were it elder brother, how would you choose?”

Li Wu answered without a moment’s hesitation: “Prefect, then — as long as the four of us are together, what does it matter who holds the bigger post? If you want to be Military Commissioner, you come and be it!”

“…In elder brother’s eyes, is officialdom truly as simple as a child’s game of house?” Li Que’s expression cooled slightly. “That is why elder brother will never accomplish great things.”

“What did you say?”

Li Wu drew back his fist to charge forward. Shen Zhuxi was so frightened she hurried to hold him back.

“Que’er, what has come over you? Why have such thoughts suddenly taken hold?” Shen Zhuxi asked urgently.

“Sister-in-law has mistaken me.” Li Que said with cool detachment. “I have always had such thoughts.”

“You know exactly what kind of man that Fu Xuanmiao is!” Li Wu said in fury. “Now you come and tell me you want to go join him — what is the difference between that and telling me you want to go find your own death?!”

“Whether it is death or not, that is my own affair,” Li Que said. “I have made up my mind.”

“I forbid you to go!” Li Wu said. “Tell me plainly why you want to join Fu Xuanmiao. Even if it’s a matter of heaven-and-earth proportions, I will carry it with you — running away like this, what kind of man does that make you?!”

“Today, I will leave regardless. Even if elder brother were to detain me by force, the moment I regained my freedom, I would still go to join Fu Xuanmiao. If elder brother truly insists on keeping me—”

Li Que slowly drew the long blade at his waist.

“…What — if I won’t let you go, are you going to kill me?” Li Wu’s expression darkened.

“If elder brother truly insists on keeping me, I am willing to cut off my own arm to repay the years of kindness between us.”

Having said this, Li Que raised the blade and swung it without hesitation toward his own shoulder.

Shen Zhuxi was so frightened she cried out. Her body moved on instinct to throw herself forward and seize the blade — but before she could reach it, the sharp blade came to a dead halt in the air.

Li Que’s expression shifted.

Thread after thread of vivid crimson blood flowed down from Li Wu’s palm and through his fingers, where he had caught the blade.

He stared at Li Que before him without blinking, and spoke one word at a time:

“The bond between you and me — can a single arm repay it?”

“…If that is so,” Li Que released the blade and sank slowly to his knees before Li Wu, “then let Li Que repay it with his life.”

Li Wu held the blade by the edge, staring steadily at his younger brother kneeling before him, his voice roughened:

“…Is this truly what you want?”

Li Que closed his eyes, and said nothing.

The heavy silence congealed into near solidity. After a long moment, the blood-wet blade fell to the ground without strength.

“If you want to get out, then get out…” Li Wu said.

Li Que finally opened his eyes.

He picked up the blade from the ground. He did not look once more at Li Wu or Shen Zhuxi, and in silence turned and walked away.

“Once you walk out that door, don’t come back!” Li Wu called after his retreating figure in a fury.

Li Que only stopped for a moment.

Just a single moment.

Then he walked out of the back courtyard.

“Li Wu!” Shen Zhuxi took his tightly clenched fist in both hands. Looking at the blood that continued to well through his fingers, she was helpless to stop it. She held back her tears as she tried to pry Li Wu’s hand open, and looked imploringly at him as he stood with a face like iron, still staring in the direction of the front courtyard: “Stop clenching it!”

That day, Shen Zhuxi watched the physician Uncle Tang bandage his wound.

And stayed with him from sunrise to sunset.

Li Que never came back.