“Does this mean we’ve finally come out into the open?”

Hua Zhi’s smiling words broke the silence inside the carriage. She narrowed her eyes slightly, the corners of her mouth lifted, and despite her disheveled state, a certain ease shone through.

“A’Zhi…”

“I had already prepared myself to be beheaded.” Hua Zhi pushed herself upright, and Gu Yanxi hurried to support her. She leaned naturally into the man’s embrace — nowhere else in the world made her feel so safe.

“The outcome was far better than I anticipated.”

Gu Yanxi lowered his head and smoothed her slightly scattered hair, his voice hoarse. “But now is absolutely not a good time to build the canal. If it succeeds, the Emperor will be the one whose name is passed down through the ages. The infamy will fall on you. And if it fails, he truly will banish the entire Hua Family. A’Zhi — he is capable of it.”

“I know it will be difficult. But I survived. While there is life, there is hope. There will be a way.”

Gu Yanxi pressed his lips into a thin, firm line. He was angry — yet beyond the anger lay something deeper, a grief that weighed more heavily. He had done so much, and all he had ever wanted was Hua Zhi. His Imperial Uncle knew this perfectly well, and still he had shown no mercy.

“He mentioned opening the canal once before and then never brought it up again. I thought he had let it go. I never imagined his fixation ran this deep. I should have been on guard much sooner.”

Hua Zhi shook her head gently. “It would have been useless. You cannot dissuade an emperor willing to bear even the name of a tyrant, so long as his name endures through history. Yanxi, don’t drive yourself into a dead end. As long as I’m alive, there is a way to turn this around — and you know me. I am very good at making money.”

“But this isn’t something money alone can solve.” Gu Yanxi’s worry sharpened the pace of his words. “A’Zhi, not a single thing you said in the imperial study was an exaggeration. This is not the right time for large-scale waterworks, and the funds required to dig an entire canal are not something one person could possibly bear alone.” He did not doubt A’Zhi. He did not doubt her ability to generate wealth. But what should by rights require the resources of an entire nation being heaped onto a single person’s shoulders — that person would be crushed.

“Yanxi. Trust me.” Hua Zhi sat up and met the man’s gaze. “Trust me.”

Hua Zhi’s calm steadied Gu Yanxi. He closed his eyes for a moment, then gathered her back into his arms, resting his cheek against the crown of her head as he nodded. “I trust you.”

Neither spoke again. Hua Zhi was truly exhausted, drifting in and out of a daze, and Gu Yanxi could not bring himself to disturb her. His mind spun furiously — thinking through what he could do in this matter, where he could begin — until the carriage finally came to a stop.

Shao Yao lifted the curtain, cast one sharp glance at Yanxi, then spotted Hua Zhi fast asleep. She gave a soft huff, hooked the curtain to the side, and jumped down first to knock on the side gate.

The door opened at the very first knock. Standing there was Bao Xia, her eyes swollen and red. Thinking it was someone come to look for their young miss and that she would have to say the young miss was not home, she was already fighting back tears — and then she saw Lu Xiansheng carrying the young miss in long, swift strides, coming toward her from behind Shao Yao. She stared, barely believing her own eyes, torn between wanting to cry out and wanting to weep. In the end she only clamped her hands tightly over her mouth and flung the gate open as wide as it would go, trotting along behind them as silent tears streamed down her face.

At this hour the clan school had already let out, the guards’ drills had finished, and the front courtyard was quieter still. Inside the main hall, the senior maidservants and the Fourth Madam sat together — every one of them red-eyed, none speaking. They were waiting.

Waiting for their young miss to return. Or waiting for the worst.

“It’s almost dark.” Wu Shi said in a low, rough voice, glancing at the fading light beyond the doorway.

“The young miss said she wouldn’t be back today and sent someone to fetch the Sixth Young Master. There is still plenty of time today.” Even as Ying Chun spoke the words, the tears slipped down again. Just imagining her young miss suffering somewhere unseen, in ways she could not know, was enough to make her chest seize with helpless dread.

She could not understand it. There were so many wicked people in the world who went on living without consequence — yet her young miss, who had done nothing but good, should come to such an end.

Nian Qiu suddenly said, “Is that — do I hear something?”

“No — wait, yes, there is something. Coming this way.” They exchanged a glance and all leapt up at once, rushing outside — and there was Lu Xiansheng, carrying the young miss toward them.

The tension wound tight all afternoon finally came undone. Ying Chun dashed the tears from her face and ran ahead to prepare the young miss’s room, so that by the time Gu Yanxi carried her inside, the bed was already made.

He set her down gently, but no matter how gentle his touch, Hua Zhi — who had not been sleeping soundly to begin with — stirred awake. She caught Yanxi’s hand, her dark eyes looking steadily up at him.

Gu Yanxi knelt at the bedside and pressed his lips to her hand, his voice low. “I have to go back.”

Hua Zhi had been about to tell him not to clash head-on with the Emperor when he returned, but thought better of it and let the impulse pass. A little friction would be fine — it would at least keep the Emperor from pushing Yanxi too far. And after all, there was no one more useful to the Emperor than Yanxi. He would not truly want him gone.

She withdrew her hand. “Know your limits.”

“Yes.” Gu Yanxi leaned close to her ear and said softly, “My life is yours. No one can take it away.”

Hua Zhi smiled, the curve of it reaching her eyes.

Gu Yanxi could not help pressing a kiss to the corner of her brow. “Drink some soup before you sleep. I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“All right.”

Fu Dong left without a word for the kitchen. The soup was kept ready in the small kitchen at all times — there was already a pot warming on the stove.

Gu Yanxi had no desire to leave, but he knew he had to. He stood, cast one last look at A’Zhi, then walked straight to Shao Yao. “You stay and look after A’Zhi. No need to go back.”

Shao Yao’s irritation dissolved at once, her eyes brightening — though she still knew better than to forget herself entirely. She tugged at Yanxi’s sleeve and drew him to the doorway, lowering her voice. “And the palace…”

“Until his name is secured in history, nothing will happen to him.” Gu Yanxi glanced back at the room. “I’ll go handle things. A’Zhi had a fright — she’ll likely sleep badly. Watch over her.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave her side for a single step.” Shao Yao reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “Yanxi. Be careful.”

Gu Yanxi looked at that face. Old grievances and new alike surged up together. The Gu name — he could do without it.

She watched Yanxi leave, then went back inside. Still clutching her medicine case, she sat down at the bedside, then simply pulled off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, settling close against Hua Zhi.

Hua Zhi’s spirits were not good, but she let her be, even reaching to find her hand and give it a small, reassuring squeeze.

Shao Yao’s tears fell without warning. She had been truly terrified. Listening to Hua Zhi say those things to the Emperor, she had been certain Hua Zhi would not survive. She had long since lost count of how many times Hua Zhi had come close to death. Why did her Hua Zhi have to endure so many disasters? Hua Zhi should have been more ruthless — it was the ruthless ones who lived to a ripe old age.

“The soup is here.” Someone called from across the room. The maidservants made way at once. Ying Chun moved to help the young miss sit up, but with Shao Yao in this state, she had no idea how to maneuver around her.

It was Shao Yao herself who sat up, wiped her face on her sleeve, and propped Hua Zhi against her as a backrest. Fu Dong quickly stepped forward and began spooning the cooled soup into the young miss’s mouth one careful sip at a time.

Hua Zhi was not truly hungry. She stopped after half a bowl. Shao Yao promptly set to tending to her wounds — but before she could finish, Hua Zhi had already drifted into a hazy sleep.

Shao Yao sent the others out and sat at the head of the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, keeping watch.