Although the framework had been drawn up, it was clear to everyone — not just Hua Zhi and Gu Yanxi, but even Shao Yao — that putting it into practice would be anything but easy. The matter of salt alone would cause untold upheaval. Reform had always required bloodshed throughout history, and this was not a single reform but many, touching the interests of countless parties. The backlash could well be imagined.

And yet it had to be done.

Hua Zhi ran her fingers along the rim of her teacup. “The Seven Lodges Bureau should not step into the open. Going forward, every matter — without exception — must be issued by direct imperial decree. First, this makes everything above reproach; anyone who dares to oppose it can be charged outright with treason. Second, I have no wish to see you become a target. The Seven Lodges Bureau should remain above all the ministers. Draw too close to the fray and people will lose their fear of you. You have already done far too much.”

“That was my intention as well. In the past I always wanted to spare him trouble — anticipating his every move so he would not be burdened. But since he still has the energy to stir things up, it seems he no longer needs me to involve myself.”

Gu Yanxi’s tone was distant. The years of exhausting himself to the bone had worn him out completely. Were this not an inopportune time to step away, he would have been genuinely glad to let it all go and simply stay by A’Zhi’s side, day after day, doing nothing at all.

Hua Zhi lowered her gaze, concealing the quiet satisfaction within. Cooling Yanxi’s heart toward the Emperor was the greatest gain to come out of everything that had happened.

“I won’t be entering the palace. Yanxi, you go and report back. Tell him I’ve agreed to this — but I expect no one to interfere with how I carry it out. And when I need cooperation, he must ensure others cooperate with me. Also — have Xiao Liu recalled to the capital. I want him by my side.”

“If you bring Xiao Liu with you, the Emperor will assume you intend to position him for the throne.”

“As though he wouldn’t assume that regardless? Ha. Since I’m already considered to be in the Sixth Prince’s camp, what difference does it make if I’m more open about it? Or are you telling me you’ll simply stand by and watch while the other princes scheme against him?”

A smile came into Gu Yanxi’s eyes. Slowly, he said: “I’ll deal with them.”

“There are only six princes in total. Then let the Emperor have no other choice.” Hua Zhi’s smile remained on her face, yet looking at her, Yanxi had the impression of bared fangs — a strangely stirring sight, as though this sharp-edged Hua Zhi was her truest self. More than her usual composed and gentle manner, this version of her made it impossible for him to look away.

Once the broad framework was settled, the two filled in further details until the appointed hour drew near and Gu Yanxi returned to the palace.

As Hua Zhi had anticipated, the Emperor did not refuse. He only asked: “You think so highly of Xiao Liu?”

“If it had been Xiao Wu sent to A’Zhi’s side, it would be Xiao Wu she favored. Since it is already settled that she belongs to the Sixth Prince’s camp, why think any further on it.”

The Emperor had no answer for that — it was entirely true. From the moment he had learned that Xiao Liu had been placed in the Hua household, he had regarded Hua Zhi as belonging to the Sixth Prince’s faction. This was merely a shift from implicit to explicit. What real difference was there? Even if Hua Zhi were to claim she supported some other prince, would he believe it?

With a faint, quiet laugh, the Emperor said, “I’m beginning to believe Hua Zhi may actually be able to do this.”

Gu Yanxi kept his gaze downcast, his nose toward his chest, and said nothing.

The Emperor’s good humor collapsed in an instant. He had schemed endlessly, yet never once truly wanted to grow distant from his nephew.

“Yanxi, you know well enough how I have treated you.”

“Every kindness Your Majesty has shown, this subject has returned tenfold.”

The Emperor erupted in furious shame. He struck the imperial desk with his palm and raised his voice: “Are you demanding I settle accounts with you?!”

Gu Yanxi prostrated himself on the ground, closed his eyes, and said with a faint tremor in his voice: “A ruler is a ruler. A subject is a subject. This subject has recognized his place and would never dare presume beyond it.”

A clatter rang out as the Emperor swept everything from the imperial desk onto the floor. Darkness flickered across his vision; he gripped the desk with both hands to keep from losing composure entirely.

“Your Majesty!” Lai Fu was greatly alarmed. He steadied the Emperor into his seat and was already rushing toward the door. “This old servant will summon the imperial physician at once—”

The Emperor raised a hand to stop him. He looked at the nephew still kneeling motionless on the ground, and his heart was in turmoil. In times past, Yanxi would have rushed forward by now — yet even after Lai Fu’s words, he had not so much as lifted his head.

The Emperor thought of how he had sought nothing more than a name to be remembered by after death, only to be treated this way by the nephew who had always been so devoted to him. His displeasure with Hua Zhi deepened, and alongside it rose a grief he had not expected — could all those years of uncle-and-nephew affection truly be worth less than that small private matter between those two? Were it not that he still needed Hua Zhi, he would make her regret ever having been born into this world.

The longer he dwelt on it, the worse he felt. The Emperor let out a cold snort, pushed Lai Fu aside, and strode away.

Only after all sound had faded did Gu Yanxi rise to his feet. He looked at the empty space for a long moment, then walked out of the imperial study as well. Feelings could not simply vanish — but the warmth of closeness, that was truly gone.

Hua Zhi coaxed Shao Yao out of the room, closed the door, and sat down at her writing desk.

She knew she ought to set out a plan as quickly as possible — where to begin, who would need to be involved, all of it needed to be mapped out — yet when she picked up her brush, she found her mind entirely blank, unable to concentrate no matter what she tried.

Fear lingered, and indignation too.

She set the brush down and lay her head on the desk, talking herself through it quietly. It was nothing insurmountable. She had already died once — every day she lived now was a gift, and she had accumulated more than her fill. She would treat it as — yes, as the price owed for living an extra life in this world. A debt she paid for all she had come to possess by being reborn here.

She drew a slow breath and lifted her head. If she truly carried these things through, it would be a service to the nation and its people. Whatever god or spirit had brought her here, she would have repaid at least a portion of the debt.

Steadying herself, Hua Zhi picked up her brush again. She had no time to waste.

Early the next morning, she sent word to the Zhu household. After a brief rest following the midday meal, she set off for Zhu Ziwen’s home.

Zhu Haocheng had received the message and returned home early. In all the years past, no matter the matter, Hua Zhi had always waited for him at home. Today she had sent someone ahead to arrange a time — this was no small thing. He could not tell whether something had changed at the Hua household or whether trouble had arisen with her business affairs.

The old madam, who was frequently out visiting various households, had not heard any rumors circulating, which left her somewhat less anxious than the old master. Perhaps it was good news — that child never left her maternal family out of anything fortunate.

“The young miss is here.” The serving woman who had been watching at the gate smiled when she saw the young miss being escorted over by the steward. As she drew closer, the smile turned abruptly into a startled cry: “Young miss — are you ill? Has something happened?”

The old madam heard this and hurried to the gate. Just then Hua Zhi arrived at the entrance. Before Hua Zhi could perform her greeting, the old madam had already taken hold of her. “What is this? It looks as though you’ve been injured?”

“I bumped into something — it’s nothing serious. Please don’t worry.”

Hua Zhi supported her maternal grandmother as they walked inside. When she moved to greet her grandfather, the old madam held her back from that too. “None of that formality. Come now, tell your grandmother what happened. Has someone wronged you?”

“Nothing of the sort. I wasn’t paying attention while walking and took a fall. It wasn’t serious — just a bit of broken skin. My maids were afraid it would leave a mark on my face and made a great fuss over it.”

Hua Zhi spoke with a mixture of truth and evasion. “Let me unwrap it and show you, so you can set your mind at rest.”

“No need, no need — your maids were right to be careful. You must watch yourself. We cannot have it leaving a scar.”