Zeng Xiangyan was waiting in the courtyard. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and watched the woman approach with measured grace. It wasn’t that he had failed to notice that Miss Hua was different from other women — her bearing, her composure even at leisure, the genuine reverence her brothers showed her — all of it spoke volumes.

But there were so many women in the world. Who was to say they all had to be cast from the same mold?

“Young Master Zeng.”

Zeng Xiangyan fixed his gaze on Hua Zhi, a faint flicker of hope in his eyes. “My eldest brother… did he truly commit treason?”

“Yes.” Hua Zhi answered without hesitation. “He helped the Chaoli Tribe turn Jinyang into a gambling city. The money flowed in an endless stream to the Chaoli Tribe — that is the same as funding their capacity to wage war. We did not wrong him. He did commit treason, and he has indeed been put to death.”

Zeng Xiangyan’s nose stung, and his eyes instantly reddened. The elder brother who had always sought out all manner of fine wines for him had truly done wrong — and was truly gone.

“Yet his heart still held loyalty.” Hua Zhi lifted the ledger in her hand. “This is the one piece of his heart that belonged to Daqing. With these two ledgers, I will certainly be able to clear the rest of the Zeng family from this affair.”

Zeng Xiangyan knew he ought to say something in gratitude, but he opened his mouth and not a single word came out. In the end, he simply clasped his hands together and bent deeply at the waist.

Hua Zhi stepped aside, refusing to receive so great a bow. “This was a transaction between me and your eldest brother. He has already paid the price. Let the Zeng family close its doors and await disposal in silence.”

With that, Hua Zhi stepped past him and walked out. There was still a great deal to attend to outside — she could not afford further delay.

“Miss.” Zeng Xiangyan turned around. “I beg your pardon for asking — was that child who came with you last time truly your brother?”

“Whether he was or was not — does it matter to Young Master Zeng?”

“It doesn’t matter. I simply… suddenly wanted to know.”

Hua Zhi turned back and looked at the young nobleman who no longer carried the free and easy manner of their first meeting. “He is the Sixth Imperial Prince.”

Zeng Xiangyan’s pupils contracted sharply. That was an answer he had not expected. The Sixth Prince? He had seemed no different from an ordinary Shizi from some aristocratic household — and yet a prince who showed such deference to Miss Hua… That implied…

“I am his teacher.” Hua Zhi cut off the many impractical thoughts forming in his mind. “He thinks very well of you. He once said you were someone worth befriending. If not for the inconvenience of his station, he would very much like to call you a friend.”

Zeng Xiangyan laughed bitterly. “Miss need not speak such comforting words to deceive me.”

“What reason would I have to deceive you? Young Master Zeng is by nature free-spirited. You see things clearly when they matter. You have your own convictions and your own limits — these are genuinely rare qualities. I hope you will not let the changes in your family alter who you are. I imagine that is what your eldest brother also wished for.”

With a slight dip of her head, Hua Zhi turned and strode away, lingering no longer.

Zeng Xiangyan stood there for a long while — a very long while — then covered his face with his hands, caught somewhere between laughing and crying. His days of ease were over. His life, from this moment, had truly begun.

The great doors swung heavily open, and closed again with a heavy thud. Hua Zhi’s eyes fell at once on the soldiers waiting at the foot of the steps. Soldiers were not all the same — the garrison troops were visibly less formidable in bearing.

The young commander at the front stepped forward. “This subordinate, Liu Zheng, reporting under orders.”

Hua Zhi gave a nod. “Has General Lu gone to the racetrack?”

“Yes.”

Hua Zhi took Bao Xia’s hand and stepped into the carriage. “What is the situation at the silver mine?”

“At the quarry, twenty-one men perished. Within the silver mine, fourteen Chaoli tribespeople were found hidden — all have now been put to death.”

“And our own casualties?”

Liu Zheng paused. “Sixty-seven killed, twenty-nine wounded, two deputy commanders critically injured.”

That was the difference in strength. Hua Zhi was not the least bit surprised they had paid so steep a price — and furthermore, “Has the Seven Lodges Bureau arrived?”

“Yes. Had their people not arrived in time, we might not have managed to contain everyone, and the casualties would have been far worse.” Liu Zheng’s voice grew quieter with each word. He had always heard the Chaoli Tribe was formidable, but witnessing it firsthand showed him just how formidable they truly were. That kind of ferocity — it made a man’s knees go weak.

Having learned the state of things there, Hua Zhi asked no further. She issued her orders: “Leave half the men in the city to assist Jia Yang in apprehending Qi Qiu. Do a thorough sweep — leave no stone unturned in case any have slipped through. The rest follow me to the racetrack.”

“Yes.” Before going to arrange the men, Liu Zheng quietly raised his eyes for a glance at the person issuing commands. Before meeting her, he had been quietly grumbling to himself — taking orders from a woman, no idea what she might order them to do. But the reality had defied his expectations. She had not acted recklessly. Her questions had gone straight to the heart of the matter, her orders made sound sense, and that air of authority she carried was quite striking. He hoped it was not merely a passing show.

Inside the carriage, Hua Zhi buried herself in Yanxi’s cloak, closed her eyes, and allowed her mind to go completely blank for a moment. After a short while, she took up the ledger and began reading it carefully.

Judging by this ledger, the greater part of Jinyang’s prominent families were deeply entangled in the matter. Yet given how shrewd these people were, she did not believe they had failed to notice anything amiss — they had simply profited too handsomely to want to look too closely.

Her eyes fell on the staggering sums recorded toward the back. Hua Zhi closed the ledger. Very good. Let them fatten up before the slaughter.

At that moment, the racetrack was gripped in an atmosphere of utter tension, not a trace remaining of its usual din and bustle. Anyone enjoying themselves would naturally be thrown into a panic when suddenly surrounded on all sides by the soldiers of the Qingliu Camp, led by a General Lu clad in full armor.

That day happened to be a race day. The viewing stands were packed with people. The men could just barely hold themselves together without losing their composure, but the women had already frightened themselves into huddling in clusters, trembling.

General Lu had once been on familiar terms with many of these people, but ever since the affair involving Yuan Shifang, he had first been reprimanded by the Chief of the Seven Lodges Bureau, then dressed down in an imperial decree, and had never dared to grow complacent again. Over the past half year, his days had been filled far more with drilling troops.

Thinking back on what had just happened at the silver mine, General Lu’s mood was even darker. He had no desire whatsoever to deal with the former acquaintances in the stands, and his black expression successfully silenced those who had tried to work their connections.

For a time, the racetrack that was ordinarily so lively fell as quiet as a graveyard. That unnaturally silent atmosphere affected even the horses — they let out sporadic long whinnies, uneasy, shuffling restlessly in small circles without stopping.

Under such circumstances, Hua Zhi’s carriage drew an extraordinary amount of attention.

General Lu narrowed his eyes. Recalling what the Chief of the Seven Lodges Bureau had said when he departed — that all of Hua Zhi’s decisions could be taken as his own — he pressed down his contempt and composed his expression into something approximating warmth.

After stepping down from the carriage, Hua Zhi first swept a glance around, then walked to stand before General Lu and offered a bow. “I am Hua Zhi of the Hua family. I pay my respects to General Lu.”

That respectful bearing put Lu Peiyu’s mind at considerable ease. He raised a hand in a gesture of refusal. “You do me too great an honor.”

Hua Zhi merely acted as though she heard no disdain in his words, and quietly slid back the ledger she had been about to produce, as if it were nothing. “I would like to speak with the racetrack’s manager.”

General Lu glanced at his deputy commander, who understood at once and extended a hand in invitation. “All of the racetrack’s managers and attendants are this way. Please follow me, Miss.”

Seeing that General Lu had no intention of accompanying them, Hua Zhi said nothing further and followed the deputy commander toward the area beneath the stands, where several rooms were located.