After a night’s rest, the wound on her thigh had healed considerably — she could no longer feel the pain unless she touched it directly. Yet the exhaustion from days of relentless travel still left her spirits low.

Her fatigue must have been too obvious, for even Shao Yao had grown noticeably quieter. When breakfast was brought up, she made sure to pick out the best morsels and place them into Hua Zhi’s bowl first.

Hua Zhi had little appetite, but she forced herself to eat more than she wished. The cold was too severe — without enough food to fuel her warmth, she would not be able to hold on.

As the sky gradually brightened, Hua Zhi pulled her cloak tighter and was about to ask Shao Yao about the whereabouts of Master Lu, when Gu Yanxi — who had been nowhere to be seen all morning — strode in carrying a large bundle, his coat dusted with wind and snow. “The snow has grown heavier.”

Already knowing the road ahead would not be easy, Hua Zhi smiled at his words. “Then we press on through wind and snow.”

Gu Yanxi gave her a long, searching look, then opened the bundle. A vivid, flame-red fur instantly caught the eye.

Hua Zhi’s mind turned swiftly, and she looked toward Gu Yanxi in surprise.

“Found a friend,” he said simply.

Gu Yanxi glanced at Shao Yao, who grasped the meaning of that look in an instant. She stepped forward at once, removed Hua Zhi’s cloak, and draped the considerably thicker fur cloak over Hua Zhi’s shoulders, then moved around to fasten it at the front — the whole process carried out with a firmness that left Hua Zhi no room to refuse.

Hua Zhi touched the soft, plush collar and felt the warmth radiating from it. She accepted the kindness graciously. “Thank you.”

Gu Yanxi gazed at Hua Zhi’s pale, delicate face framed by the flame-red fur collar, and once again he thought of that rainy night — the face that was fragile yet stubborn, and those eyes that refused to surrender. Even now, her complexion was not much better than it had been then.

Outside, the wind and snow intensified. Hua Zhi drew in a deep breath of cold air, pulled on her hat, swung herself onto the horse, pressed her legs against its flanks, and the horse gradually broke into a run.

The wind bit at her face like a blade. Cold air rushed into her body through her nose, and she felt herself chilling from the inside out. Hua Zhi gripped the reins tightly and told herself: soon — she would be reunited with her family.

Gu Yanxi’s horse would occasionally surge ahead to the front of the group. Each time he turned back, the brilliant brightness in Hua Zhi’s eyes gave him a sensation of being burned. He felt like a man who had discovered a tremendous treasure — digging it up quietly and alone, hoarding it like a miser with no desire for anyone else to find out, and secretly rejoicing in his heart.

This feeling — one that could be sensed but not put into words — he could not describe it. He only knew that he cherished this state of being immensely.

It was precisely because of this attentiveness that when Hua Zhi nearly tumbled from her horse, he was the first to notice. Without a moment’s thought he launched himself from his own saddle, landed on Hua Zhi’s horse, and circled his arms around her, steadying her safely within his hold.

“Hua Zhi!” Shao Yao urged her horse forward urgently. “Are you all right? What happened?”

Hua Zhi smiled wryly. “My hands and feet have gone numb from the cold.”

“If you had actually fallen, you’d have been finished.” Shao Yao was badly frightened. “Yan-ge, rein in the horse — I’ll come and—”

The look in Gu Yanxi’s eyes was too formidable. On instinct, Shao Yao swallowed the words “take Hua Zhi” back down her throat, and quickly substituted: “I’ll come check whether Hua Zhi is hurt.”

“I’m fine.” Hua Zhi reassured Shao Yao, but being carried along like this was no long-term solution. She was not troubled by the propriety between men and women, but this era took such things seriously. “Master Lu, perhaps we might find somewhere to stop for a while — if I move about and get my circulation going, I should recover.”

“If we stop to dismount and move around every so often, we will not reach our destination today. Let us continue as we are.”

Hua Zhi considered this and realized he was right. The day’s journey was already long; if they halted every little while, covering even half the route would be an achievement. Still, there were other solutions. “I would not presume to trouble Master Lu further — Cao Cao, come and ride with me instead.”

“The horses you are riding are ordinary animals — they cannot carry two people.”

This was the plain truth, and Shao Yao could not argue with it. She nodded at Hua Zhi with an earnest expression. “Our horses really cannot compare to Yan-ge’s.”

That horse was the king of horses — tamed by the Shizi himself!

Gu Yanxi gave Hua Zhi no time to react. He wrapped his arm around her waist and vaulted from one horse to the other, landing on his own mount. The horse, as if possessing an almost human understanding of its master, slowed of its own accord to accommodate the movement.

Hua Zhi’s heart lurched and then fell heavily back into place. Her pulse quickened beyond her control. She had now experienced firsthand the usefulness of superior martial arts — though the sensation was not entirely pleasant.

Gu Yanxi swept his cloak open and enveloped Hua Zhi within it. The arm that had held her firmly now rested loosely at a protective distance, and he drew his body back so that Hua Zhi could not feel the least bit of impropriety.

“Hold steady — we are about to pick up speed.”

Hua Zhi nodded and instinctively reached for the reins — only to forget that this was not the horse she had been riding. This horse’s reins were in Gu Yanxi’s hands. Her grip closed over a man’s hand. She snatched her own hand back immediately.

“My apologies.”

In the place Hua Zhi could not see, the corner of Gu Yanxi’s mouth curved upward. “Think nothing of it. Rest your feet on mine — press down firmly, do not worry about hurting me.”

Yet no matter how firmly she planted her feet, without anything to hold onto with her hands, the jolting of the ride gradually caused Hua Zhi to sway backward. At first she would make the effort to straighten herself, but as time passed she simply gave up. After all, she was the one at a disadvantage — since she did not mind, she imagined Master Lu would not mind too much either.

Gu Yanxi did not mind in the least. He even gave the reins a subtle flick, urging the horse to run just a little faster.

Despite the terrible weather, this turned out to be the most effortless day of the entire journey. They arrived at the relay station earlier than expected.

Upon returning to the room after dinner, a large tub of steaming hot water stood waiting. Hua Zhi wasted no time stripping down and sinking into it. The wound on her thigh, which had formed a scab, had been rubbed raw again over the course of the day and looked slightly red and swollen. She dared not soak for too long — once she was warm from head to toe, she climbed out.

Shao Yao seemed to have been listening for sounds from outside, for the moment Hua Zhi finished dressing, a knock came at the door and Shao Yao entered, medicine in hand.

As she watched the back of Shao Yao’s head, Hua Zhi suddenly asked, “Does Master Lu have a family of his own?”

Shao Yao’s hand stilled. She glanced up at Hua Zhi, then continued applying the medicine. “Why do you ask that? Surely you don’t mean to—”

“Your mind has gone somewhere it ought not.” Hua Zhi laughed softly and patted the back of Shao Yao’s head. “Sharing a horse with someone is, after all, contrary to propriety. If Master Lu already has a wife, then tomorrow I shall have to think of some other arrangement — I cannot keep troubling him. Did you really think I had developed improper feelings?”

Shao Yao felt reassured and let out an indignant huff. “What is improper about it? If anything, the impropriety would be his. But Hua Zhi, you needn’t worry about that — he has no family. And if he had a wife and still dared to ride with you, I would never have agreed to it. I would rather we travel slowly than let anyone take advantage of you.”

Hua Zhi looked at her good friend, whose elbow had pivoted entirely in her direction, and gave the back of her head another affectionate pat.

“Hua Zhi, let me ask you something.” Shao Yao carefully pressed the stopper back into the medicine vial. “What do you think of Yan-ge?”

“I don’t think of him in any particular way. I have no intention of marrying in this lifetime. When the right time comes, I shall find a refined little house to live in — watch the sun rise and set, and spend my days in peace and ease.”

She had no wish to guess what Master Lu’s intentions might be. She only hoped that these words, spoken by her lips, might reach his ears.