Shao Yao came running back on the evening of the fourth day. Had it not been for the familiar medicinal fragrance clinging to her, Hua Zhi would nearly have drawn her dagger at the sight of a figure with a head wrapped entirely in white cloth.

“Master said my wound has been left too long unattended. He adjusted a formula and had me apply it for several days first. Starting tomorrow, I can go straight to the ointment. But Master said I still need to have soft cloth wrapped around my face every day — it will give better results.”

Shao Yao took the jars out of the medicine chest, her movements considerably more gentle and careful than her usual rough-and-ready manner. Even if she had no particular regard for whether her face could truly heal, she cared about the thought behind the old physician’s painstaking effort to gather all the necessary herbs.

Hua Zhi touched the jars lightly, then put them away herself with great care.

The coldest days had passed, and the weather was warming little by little. The household servants had already exchanged their thick padded winter coats for lighter quilted jackets, and by now the only person throughout the entire residence still going in and out bundled in a heavy overcoat was Hua Zhi.

On this particular day, Hua Zhi’s room was unusually quiet. The several senior maids stood with bated breath, wringing their handkerchiefs, watching the two figures at the dressing table — one standing, one seated.

Hua Zhi pressed her hands on Shao Yao’s shoulders. “I’m unwrapping it now.”

Shao Yao drew a deep breath and nodded firmly. But when Hua Zhi actually began to remove the wrapping, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Deep in her heart, there was still hope.

Hua Zhi had been applying the medicine herself every day and knew better than anyone the state of Shao Yao’s face — yet even now her heart quickened. When the soft cloth was entirely unwound, the smile that broke across her face could not be contained. She pressed firmly on Shao Yao’s shoulders and called out in a voice that was slightly hoarse: “Caocao, open your eyes.”

Shao Yao swallowed, her eyelids trembling — yet her eyes did not open.

She raised her hand and took hold of the hand resting on her shoulder. “Hua… Hua Hua,” she said haltingly, “I’m a little nervous. Tell me first — has it improved? Just tell me that much.”

Hua Zhi smiled — and then felt the back of her nose begin to ache as the smile went on. How much did a woman’s appearance matter to her? And yet Caocao had been deprived of this for so many years. How could she not be frightened?

“Caocao, you must trust the old physician.”

Shao Yao pressed her lips together. Right, right — of course she trusted her own master.

As though summoning every last ounce of strength she had, Shao Yao slowly, slowly opened her eyes.

In the bronze mirror was a face that was nearly a stranger’s — so unfamiliar she almost thought there was someone in the room she did not recognize.

She shifted a little to the left. The person in the mirror shifted left as well. She tilted slightly back. The person in the mirror tilted back as well. This was truly herself.

Shao Yao wanted to smile, but when the corners of her mouth moved, they would not curve into any arc of a smile. She raised her hand and touched her face. Here — this was where one scar after another had once run. Then they became raised ridges, one after another. And now, only faint, shallow traces remained.

Her face would never again frighten children. The veiled hat she had worn for so many years — at last, at last, she could throw it away.

Another pair of hands settled over hers. Shao Yao raised her eyes to the other face reflected in the mirror.

“Our Shao Yao has reached the age for someone to be found for her.” Even with the scars not entirely erased, the features beneath were still undeniably fine — unmistakably the face of a beauty.

Shao Yao burst out laughing, rolled her eyes skyward in her habitual way, and in an instant all that refinement was gone — she was simply Shao Yao again, the gluttonous, unrefined Shao Yao she had always been. “Those soft men in the capital wouldn’t last a single round against me.”

Hua Zhi’s thoughts drifted unbidden to Wu Yong, and she said as if in passing: “There are military men who could go a few rounds with you.”

“You give them too much credit.” Shao Yao leaned closer to the mirror to examine her own face and looked with satisfaction upon the few rosy scars remaining. In a few more days the marks should fade further — and once she combined the old physician’s ointment with her own formula, it was not impossible they might vanish entirely.

Hua Zhi found something nagging at her about that remark. “There are no capable fighters among the military men?”

“The old generals — who knows if they can still lift a blade. As for their sons and grandsons, there have been so few conflicts in these years that nearly none of them have ever seen real battle. In the splendor of the capital, can one truly expect them to train hard day in and day out?”

Shao Yao turned around, and the several maids finally got a clear look at her face, all of them breaking into expressions of delight on her behalf.

Shao Yao grinned at them too, and went on: “From what I know, some of them have never even held a horse stance. They soak themselves in wine with women for pillows, and can barely walk a straight line. Never mind going a round with me — I doubt they could beat even the guards the Hua Family trained up later.”

The back of Hua Zhi’s neck went cold. “Yet they still hold military offices. If war were to break out and commanders at the front were lost, how would those positions be filled?”

“General Sun raised this issue in a memorial to the throne. Yanxi also pushed the matter through the Seven Lodgings Bureau. But the Emperor felt the world was at peace, and military fathers were few who could bear to see their sons suffer — so in the end, nothing came of it. A shortage of successors is only a matter of time.”

Shao Yao gave a cold laugh. The older she grew, the less she wished to enter the palace. She looked down from the bottom of her heart on an emperor who could only see what was directly before him and gave no thought to what lay ahead. She had even imagined — once things came to that pass, she would knock her master and Yanxi senseless and drag them deep into the mountains. Let the rest of the world fight over who sat on the throne.

But she knew now that was impossible. She could not leave Hua Zhi behind, and Hua Zhi could not leave behind too many people. She did not have the ability to take everyone away.

“Don’t worry too much, Hua Hua. From what I know, Yanxi spoke with the Duke of Anguo several years ago. Don’t be misled by the Duke holding no military authority at present — he still has many of his former subordinates serving in the army. The Lu Family’s sons and grandsons may all carry idle posts, but none of them have let their skills go to rust. Yanxi sometimes spars with them, knocks them flat, and that makes them train all the harder.” Shao Yao sidled over and pressed against Hua Zhi’s side in a rare fit of wheedling. “Isn’t this the moment to celebrate that my face has healed? Why are we talking about all these dreary things?”

Hua Zhi gave her a sidelong look. “How do you want to celebrate?”

“A great big feast!”

“As if you’ve ever gone hungry a single day. Always thinking about food. Fu Dong prepared everything for you first thing this morning.” Hua Zhi flicked her on the forehead, shot Ying Chun a glance, and Ying Chun immediately went to make the arrangements.

Shao Yao broke into a wide, delighted grin. “I like Fu Dong second best — just barely behind you, Hua Hua.”

“I do not feel honored. Now go and wash your face — gently — and come back. You still need to apply the medicine afterward.”

“At your command!”

After the meal, Hua Zhi sent Shao Yao back to the palace for the old physician to check on her, then turned and gave her instructions: “Make the preparations. We’re going to the eastern manor.”

She wanted to go and come back quickly, so Hua Zhi did not linger at home. After a brief interval of preparation she set out.

The mushroom yield had grown considerably — supply to the capital was now running to a surplus, and she needed to go and see exactly how large the operation had become. If there were no problems, further expansion in the capital should be held off; it was time to branch outward to the surrounding areas.

The outpost at Jinyang was the first point of external development, and she had forgotten to ask how things were going there. In a winter season with so little else in the way of vegetables, she imagined sales must have been quite brisk.

The carriage came to an abrupt stop. Hua Zhi assumed they had arrived, and was just about to rise when Wang Rong’s voice reached her from outside: “First Young Lady, take care — we have been surrounded.”

Surrounded? Here, at the very foot of the imperial city? Whoever had made this move was not particularly clever. The people who bore her ill will were few enough, and those bold enough to act in a place like this even fewer. Did they actually possess the organ of thought?