Chen Tu led the Shizi to the west room. The room was far from the mess he had described — the sleeping platform was neatly arranged.

Chen Tu bowed with gravity. “Your subordinate pays his respects to the Shizi.”

“Rise.” Gu Yanxi settled onto the platform and fixed his gaze on Chen Tu, who remained deferential throughout. “Has there been anything unusual in the north?”

“In reply to the Shizi — your subordinate made a trip north not long ago. Everything appeared normal on the surface, and yet your subordinate has had a persistent sense that something is amiss, though he cannot say precisely what. Your subordinate has failed in his duty.” Chen Tu knelt to accept blame. “Please, Shizi, mete out punishment.”

“Is it within the pass or beyond it?”

“Beyond the pass. Within the pass is the place of exile. Other than the number of those sent into exile being somewhat higher than in previous years, there is nothing else out of the ordinary.”

A higher number of exiles than usual was already cause for serious concern. Gu Yanxi lowered his gaze. The Emperor was growing old; his suspicion grew heavier with each passing year. Even Gu Yanxi himself — once praised by the Emperor as the finest talent of the imperial family — had been compelled to disfigure his own face to avoid becoming the target of that suspicion.

The Da Qing dynasty’s standards for its officials were exacting on many counts, one being that those with disfigurement were barred from court — and certainly from the highest seat of power. Ever since he had marred his own face, the various princes had let their guard down around him, and attempts to draw him to one faction or another came in an endless stream of inventive approaches.

Over the past two years, the strife among the princes had grown increasingly bitter, ensnaring more and more people. For the Da Qing dynasty, this was no good omen. The Emperor was not necessarily unaware — he was simply powerless to stop it.

Thinking of these matters, Gu Yanxi felt a surge of revulsion — yet however revolted he was, he had to endure it. If they would not fight among themselves, how was he to push his good father into the fray?

He had endured long enough. Too long, in truth.

“I will send someone north. Coordinate the handover of affairs beyond the pass with them.”

Chen Tu’s heart gave a startled jolt. “Might your subordinate ask — has he done something wrong?”

“Keep close watch on what lies within the pass. Send word to me immediately at the first sign of any movement.”

Chen Tu breathed a little easier. “Does the Shizi fear there may be those who would collude between the inside and outside?”

“That is not all.” Gu Yanxi’s brow grew colder and more composed. Over the past two years, no small number of officials had been exiled to the north — and on reflection, the majority were military commanders. If they were to band together and be put to someone’s use, or if they harbored ambitions of their own…

One could only wonder which of the princes had a hand in this. The ambition was glaringly apparent. The Emperor truly had grown old.

“Every five months or so, you must be here. And keep an eye on the Hua Family in the north — if the people there cannot manage on their own, lend them a hand.”

“Yes — your subordinate will keep this in mind.” Chen Tu looked up briefly at the Shizi before quickly lowering his eyes again. “Does the Shizi wish to meet with everyone?”

“I will return here in a few days — we can speak of it then.” Gu Yanxi rapped a knuckle on the edge of the sleeping platform. “Send word to the people in the north — by the time I arrive, I expect to meet with them.”

“Yes.” Seeing that the Shizi had no further instructions, Chen Tu bowed and withdrew, then returned shortly after carrying hot water to attend to Gu Yanxi’s washing and preparation for sleep.

A night of good rest. The next morning, the wind and snow had at last subsided — yet Hua Zhi found herself feeling, quite distinctly, that the day was colder than the one before.

Chen Tu prepared a warm breakfast for the group, then packed them provisions of dry food for the road. After seeing them out of the village, he turned back — and found all the people who had firmly shut their doors the night before now standing outside, staring at him with burning curiosity.

Chen Tu rubbed his nose. “The Shizi says he will return here in a few days.”

Someone could not contain themselves and asked at once, “Did the Shizi say he would meet with us?”

“He did not say — but the Shizi has new arrangements for us.”

Those who had begun to feel a little disheartened perked up instantly and strained to listen.

“There may be changes within the pass. From now on, our charge is to manage affairs inside the pass only. What lies beyond the pass will be handled by others.”

“Understood.”

For the remainder of the journey, Hua Zhi rode with Gu Yanxi on the same horse as before. She had grown thoroughly accustomed to it — she had even begun to feel something close to fondness for the warmth at her back. Not more than a little, but it was there.

Earlier than expected, the group at last reached their destination.

A vast and open expanse of land — defined by its immense walls into an inside and an outside. It stood both as a target and as a beacon, telling those who came home: once you reach this place, you have returned to your own country.

This pass had countless times turned back enemies who sought to force their way through. Even in the century of relative peace since Da Qing’s founding, it had never fallen into ruin. Those exiled here had one purpose only: to reinforce this barrier.

Hua Zhi had seen a great deal of splendor in her life, but this was her first time in a place so stark and desolate. Even the excitement of being about to see her family faded somewhat. This was an age of cold steel — this fortress had been built from blood. When the battle horns sounded, this place would become a landscape of corpses and carnage.

In victory or defeat alike, it was always built upon a mountain of the fallen.

She hoped with all her heart that she would never live to witness such a day with her own eyes. And she hoped, more urgently than ever, that the Hua Family could leave this place far behind.

Gu Yanxi glanced down at her, then urged the horse into the city.

Because this was a vital pass, entry and exit were scrutinized most strictly — leaving required a special permit. Fortunately, the queue was not long, and their turn came quickly. Everyone dismounted.

The garrison captain gave Gu Yanxi several looks. The man’s presence gave him an instinctive unease — without knowing why, he found himself on his guard.

Hua Zhi noticed that Master Lu had not, as he had before, produced his token of authority. Something moved in her mind, and she stepped forward to stand in front of him.

The captain was clearly more at ease facing her. “Are you all together? I have not seen you here before — what is your purpose in coming?”

“We have family here. We have come to bring them some things.” Hua Zhi turned and gestured at the large and small bundles loaded on the horses. “Mostly padded winter clothing and the like — you are welcome to inspect everything, sir.”

The captain signaled two men to carry out the inspection. When they reached the package containing medicines, Hua Zhi proactively took out two small vials and handed them over. “This is an ointment for chilblains — very effective. Please try it, sir. If it proves useful, I will bring more next time I come.”

In the north, if one were to name the most common ailment, chilblains would rank at the top of the list. Once you had them, they came back easily, year after year, and were rarely fully cured — few were those who did not suffer from them.

These soldiers, standing guard at the city gates day after day, were among those most afflicted. The backs of their hands were swollen high and darkened — and even for those who had grown used to the discomfort, every one of them longed to be rid of it.

The captain tucked the medicine vials into his coat, stepped aside, and waved them through.

Once the group had walked on far enough, one of the soldiers asked in a low voice, “Chief, aren’t you worried they might be spies?”

“What spy worth his salt would pick someone as conspicuous as that?” The garrison captain applied a little of the medicine to the back of his hand and rubbed it in, then passed the vial to the man beside him. “Pass it around — everyone put some on. Given this medicine alone, I believe they really are here to bring things to family. Only a family member would have that kind of thought for you. I just hope this medicine actually works.”

“Doesn’t it — the itching keeps me up at night.”

After they entered the city, Gu Yanxi had Hua Zhi stay mounted while he led the horse on foot. Hua Zhi was about to say something, but she could hardly very well invite him to share the saddle with her. She accepted it without further fuss — at this point she had well and truly reached the state of mind where, with too many fleas, one stopped noticing the itch, and with too many debts, one stops feeling the weight.

“Has Master Lu been to this place before?”

“I have.” Gu Yanxi turned back to look at her. “Those sent into exile generally live in the south of the city — we can head there directly.”

Hua Zhi had no reason to disagree. And now that they were here, even someone of her temperament felt an urgency and impatience rising within her that she could not quite suppress.