Hua Zhi slept deeply and for a long time, not opening her eyes until the following afternoon. For a moment her mind was blank, adrift, with no sense of where or when she was.

“Hua Zhi, you’re awake!” Shao Yao threw herself on top of her, looking aggrieved. She had been frightened by Yanxi a number of times already — Hua Zhi really had only been sleeping!

Awareness flooded back all at once. Hua Zhi sat up and looked toward the window. It was white with snow outside — daylight had clearly been up for some time.

“What hour is it?”

“Past the Shen hour. You must be hungry — get up quickly. There’s hot water in the room. Wash up and I’ll go bring the food.”

Watching Shao Yao bound to the door, open it, spin back around to grab her veiled hat and put it on, Hua Zhi smiled. She leaned against the headboard for a moment of laziness, reluctant to move — she had slept so long that her bones felt soft.

She ate considerably more than usual. Only then did she finally feel some strength returning to her body.

Gu Yanxi timed his entrance well, coming in with a teapot — filled with good tea leaves he had quietly acquired from Wu Yong the night before.

Hua Zhi was born with a discerning palate, able to tell fine things from lesser ones the moment they touched her lips. She knew without asking that this was quality tea, and without a word poured herself another cup, entirely at ease.

A smile rose in Gu Yanxi’s eyes, and his voice softened considerably. “Fourth Uncle has gone to the yamen. Before he left he said that the Hua Family members all have duties during the day, and asked you to rest well. Today he will try to arrange for your father to come home a little earlier. In a couple of days there will be a rest day, and then everyone will have time to sit and talk properly.”

Hua Zhi nodded her understanding. She looked at this Master Lu — composed and unruffled as always, no matter the circumstances — and asked: “Master Lu seems quite familiar with this place.”

“I have been here before. If the eldest young miss has anything she wishes to ask, please do not hesitate. Whatever I know, I will say without reserve.”

“What concerns me most is how to spare my family some suffering. Does Master Lu have any insight?”

Gu Yanxi met the steady gaze of Hua Zhi’s eyes through the drifting wisps of steam. “The eldest young miss is worrying more than is needed. Before you arrived, the Hua Family had not been badly off — in a short period of time, several people were placed in lighter duties. They are men. If they still required a younger family member to protect them, where would their pride be?”

Hua Zhi was left without a word to say. He was right. These were not the women of the household who needed her protection. Before the Hua Family fell, these men had held up its sky — they had sheltered her through fifteen years of wealth and ease.

Hua Zhi rose and gave a bow of courtesy toward Gu Yanxi. “Thank you for the reminder, Master Lu. I had been thinking about this the wrong way.”

Gu Yanxi raised a hand to lift her up. “No need for such formality. The eldest young miss only cares for her family.”

She sat back down. After a few more sips of tea, she poured Gu Yanxi’s cup full as well, then shifted to another matter. “Is Yinshan Pass safe?”

“What the eldest young miss truly wants to know, I suspect, is whether the peoples beyond the pass show any signs of encroaching across the border.” Seeing Hua Zhi nod, Gu Yanxi smiled. “The north is manageable. The east is not entirely stable.”

Manageable — meaning not absolutely secure. As for the east…

Hua Zhi’s mind drifted back to her childhood. Her grandfather had personally taken charge of her early education. Once he was satisfied she had learned all the characters she needed, he had her read history — just as the male members of the Hua Family clan school did. As she grew older, he would spread maps before her and teach her geography, customs, ways of life, so that she would understand the world was larger than the narrow sky above the inner courtyard. Larger than Da Qing alone — beyond the borders lay an expanse that dwarfed Da Qing, land that was neither wealthy nor abundant, where the prosperous kingdom of Da Qing gleamed in their eyes like a rich and tempting cut of meat.

Beyond the nomadic tribes who followed water and lived by warfare, there were two nations outside the pass. One was the Yan Nation to the south. The other was the former dynasty of Chaoli — driven out beyond the pass by Da Qing.

The Chaoli people were originally from beyond the pass and had once occupied the Central Plains for nearly a hundred years. In that century they had nearly destroyed the foundations of Central Plains civilization — the brilliant culture of the heartland had its traditions severed, countless classical texts burned to ash. To keep control of the Central Plains, the Chaoli rulers had eliminated scholars of the highest learning, and those who studied and read had been forced into concealment. Discovery meant arrest and death. It was a dark era, and Da Qing had needed many long years to restore life and vitality to the Central Plains.

Today the Chaoli Nation lay to Da Qing’s east, and border friction between the two countries occurred from time to time. For over a hundred years, Da Qing’s most formidable forces had been stationed at the Shouya Pass to the east. The commanders posted there had never been mediocre men, regardless of who sat upon the throne — every Emperor had understood that much clearly.

Her grandfather had once lectured in the Imperial Study Hall, and had told her that the first lesson for every member of the imperial family upon entering the Hall of Learning was not the study of the Sages, but a thorough knowledge of the preceding dynasty’s history. This had been an inviolable rule established by the founding Emperor himself.

In Da Qing’s one hundred and seventy years, not every Emperor who had reigned had been brilliantly capable — yet however foolish any one of them had been, not one had ever made an error in the appointment of commanders at the Shouya Pass.

Those hundred years were the wound that all people of the Central Plains carried within them.

Hua Zhi naturally understood the threat the Chaoli Nation posed to Da Qing. Yet what she had paid the most attention to was the south — the Yan Nation, which had been so placidly well-behaved as to seem beyond reproach. Every book she could find that touched on the Yan Nation, she had sought out and read.

Dipping a finger in the tea water, Hua Zhi began to write on the tabletop, using her finger as a brush: a five-pointed star, a triangle, a square, a rectangle, and a circle placed in the center between them — a configuration of figures that made the whole picture clear to Gu Yanxi in an instant. He came around to stand behind her.

Hua Zhi seemed not to notice. The shapes overlapped and crowded each other until the entire tabletop was covered.

Then she passed her hand across the surface, and the water smeared into an indistinct blur.

Gu Yanxi had already understood. He did not return to his seat but moved to the window, watching the people passing outside through the narrow gap he had opened.

Not only him — the entire court had its eyes trained on the north, on the east, and even on the peoples of the west — all accounted for in their vigilance. The only direction no one had considered a source of trouble was the south. The Yan Nation had been at peace for far too long. The last conflict with Da Qing had occurred forty years ago. In the years since, the two countries had maintained steady exchange, and by all appearances they had become allies.

“These past years I have read a great many books, and grandfather was never reluctant to share what he knew of court matters with me. I have found the Yan Nation to be a particularly interesting case.”

Hua Zhi smoothed her sleeve, as though what she was saying amounted to no more than remarking on fair weather. “For fifteen consecutive years the Yan Nation has offered grain as a gesture of goodwill to maintain cordial relations between the two countries — no, counting this year, it is sixteen. Each time the Emperor’s gift in return has far exceeded the value of that grain. And when the Yan Nation makes requests that are not entirely unreasonable, the Emperor has generally obliged — for example, a small iron deposit discovered along the border between the two countries, which by Da Qing’s reckoning was of minor value, was graciously granted to them.”

Gu Yanxi turned around. “It truly is small. Even the private mines that nobles open unlawfully are larger than that one. Its yield would not be enough to produce many weapons. Their stated purpose was to make farming tools and open new fields.”

“Not enough to produce many weapons — but what about arrowheads?” Hua Zhi rose and faced him directly. “The Yan Nation abounds in bamboo, with many varieties. One type is of exceptionally fine quality, well suited for making bows and arrows. Its only shortcoming is that the arrowhead material is slightly lacking in hardness, and therefore insufficient in killing power.”

Hua Zhi smiled, her expression serene. “The Yan Nation can grow three harvests of grain a year. To exchange grain — which costs them almost nothing — for iron ore: that is a deal so favorable even I find it tempting.”

Gu Yanxi knew that what he should be doing right now was submitting this matter upward without delay, to reduce to the lowest possible point any crisis that might be coming. And yet watching Hua Zhi like this, not a fraction of his thoughts went to official business. Every corner of his mind was consumed by a fierce and singular conviction: a woman like this — she was born to be his. And if they died, they would be buried in the same ground.

PS: A wonderfully vivid idea for a contemporary-setting story just came to me — and the story of Hua Zhi has barely even begun, ha.

It looks as though most of you prefer the story thread. Tsk — worthy of being my readers. So here I am, emboldened by your enthusiasm, bringing you yet another chapter of the main storyline. Though at least this one is finally from the female lead’s perspective. My apologies to those who came for the romance — this author is, at heart, a plot-driven writer, and I suppose it takes a certain kind of reader to follow along with me.