The winter nights were long, but even the longest night must eventually come to an end.

The faint light of dawn, reflected off the snow, was considerably brighter than usual — a single glance revealed nothing but a vast expanse of white.

Snow had begun to drift down once more.

Hearing movement from the room next door, Gu Yanxi stepped away from the window. A light breeze swept snowflakes in through the opening, and they melted the instant they touched the air inside.

Hua Zhi stepped out the door and saw him, her expression carrying a trace of helplessness. “It’s snowing.”

Gu Yanxi did not suggest she wait for another day. Snow in the north did not stop after a single fall — three to five days was the norm, and Hua Zhi was worried about her family. She would not wait.

“Wear as many layers as you can manage.”

“I already feel as though I can barely walk.” Hua Zhi laughed, then caught sight of Hua Pingyang stepping out from the room beside hers and quickly dipped into a curtsy in greeting.

“Don’t come down — I’ll have the inn attendant bring breakfast up.”

The breakfast here was already heartier than what one might find in the capital, and today’s was even more substantial. First thing in the morning, large bowls of meat were brought up.

Hua Pingyang picked up a piece with his chopsticks and placed it in her bowl. “In weather like this, you won’t last without meat — eat a few more pieces. You too, Master Lu, have more. I’ll have to trouble you all the way back.”

“It is my duty.” Gu Yanxi did not refuse Hua Pingyang’s gesture, and picked up a few pieces to eat slowly, his bearing graceful and composed.

He was true imperial blood — his father was the Emperor’s own brother, born of the same mother, and his mother was the legitimate daughter of a Duke. Though his mother had passed early, the Emperor had personally taken him in to be raised at his side, and his treatment was on par with that of the imperial princes. In terms of nobility, he was no lesser than any of them.

Once he had formally taken charge of the Seven Lodges Bureau, there was no one alive, save the Emperor himself, whose expression he needed to concern himself with.

Yet now that Hua Zhi had taken up residence in his heart, all his titles, all his glory, all his nobility had become nothing but shackles.

Hua Zhi had no regard for such things. It was precisely because he understood this that he had concealed his true identity. The imperial authority that others held in awe and trepidation — she even held it in disdain. Yet she kept this sentiment buried well; no one had ever noticed just how irreverent she was.

Hua Zhi.

Gu Yanxi let the corner of his gaze rest on the person beside him. She was eating in small bites, clearly without much appetite, yet forcing herself to put the meat in her mouth. She likely had not even noticed it herself — she was not very good at refusing the kindness of people who treated her well.

And that, was his opportunity.

After the meal, they drank a cup of hot tea. Calculating that the city gates would be opening soon, Hua Zhi made ready to set out.

Outside the inn, not a single member of the Hua family was missing.

The elders had been ushered under the eaves to shelter from the snow. The younger generation stood out in the snow, occasionally stamping their feet and pacing a few steps to stave off the cold.

Hua Zhi came out wrapped in her fur-lined cloak. She was just about to pull up her hood when she caught sight of everyone gathered there. All thought of her hood vanished. She hurried to her grandfather’s side and covered his hands with hers — they were not terribly cold, fortunately.

“How long have you all been here? Didn’t I say I would come to you?”

“We only just arrived. We came to see you off.” Hua Yizheng looked at his granddaughter, bundled up for all eventualities. This journey back — he could not imagine what hardships awaited her. A short wait in the cold was nothing by comparison.

“I didn’t expect more snow today. Are you wearing enough layers?”

“I’ve got two padded coats on already — I’m worried I won’t be able to mount the horse.” Hua Zhi made light of it, trying to ease her grandfather’s worry. She had already experienced the feeling of galloping through snow on the way here; this was simply one more such journey. She had already steeled herself mentally.

More than this, she was far less skilled at handling a scene like the one before her now.

Looking at the gathered faces of her family, all eyes warm with deep feeling, Hua Zhi felt a painful tightening in her throat. If she had been given the choice, she would rather the Hua family had never been torn apart — she would have carried on as the eldest unmarried daughter of the household, and the most troublesome thing she would ever have to worry about would be whether she still wanted to marry a man who had already been taken by someone else.

She had genuinely been glad, those first fifteen years, that there had never been any occasion for her to show what she was capable of.

She had genuinely been content to be a Hua Zhi who only needed to play defensive moves at chess and write neat, delicate regular script.

Her gaze fell on Hua Baili, whose eyes were full of hopeful expectation. Hua Zhi extended her hand toward him; he hurried forward and presented the letter with both hands. He had originally prepared a few small things to bring comfort to their mother, but seeing the large and small parcels already hanging from the horses, he had not brought them out.

“Remember what you promised me.”

Hua Baili stood straighter. “Elder Sister, rest easy. I will.”

Hua Zhi gave a nod to her other younger half-brother as well. Hua Baixiang was quieter by nature; he stepped forward in silence and offered his letter, saying softly, “Thank you.”

“Look after Father.”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

Hua Zhi drew a deep breath and knelt down in the snow. Before her forehead had even touched the ground, her father pulled her back to her feet. This man, who was so refined that he had never so much as raised his voice, stood with trembling lips and said quietly: “Don’t get your clothes wet — if the wind catches wet cloth it will freeze solid.”

“Yes.” Hua Zhi lowered her gaze. “Father, please take care of yourself.”

Hua Pingyu patted her on the shoulder. For him, this was the most intimate gesture he could offer a child.

Hua Yizheng watched with smiling eyes, and said warmly: “Set off now. Don’t push for speed — safety is what matters most.”

“Yes. Take care, Grandfather. Everyone, please take care.”

Hua Zhi swung up into the saddle and reined her horse around in a half-circle. She lifted her chin, and the expression on her face was one of confident boldness she never ordinarily let others see.

“I promise — the Hua family’s century of unblemished reputation will not be diminished by so much as half a point while it is in my hands. I promise the young men of the Hua family will continue to grow into scholars steeped in learning and letters. No one will dare look down upon the daughters of the Hua family. I promise — when you return, the Hua family will still be the Hua family you know, still the family that our founding ancestor personally bestowed the honor of ‘a house where learning is passed down.'”

These words, delivered with the weight and clarity of stones striking the ground, brought tears to the eyes of many in the Hua family. She was no more than an unmarried young woman, yet in this moment, she stood in their hearts like a pillar holding up the heavens.

This was the daughter the Hua family had raised!

They had every right to be proud!

The younger generation looked up at the figure on horseback with something very close to reverence. They could no longer recall what the Hua Zhi of the past had looked like. The only image etched in their hearts and minds was this one — this figure, right here, right now.

In the future, whenever they felt weary and burdened, they would think back to this moment — think of Hua Zhi, who had come to them through wind and snow, and who now rode back out into it — and feel that there was nothing that could not be endured.

The sound of hoofbeats receded from near to far, until it faded entirely. For a moment, not a soul moved — neither the Hua family members nor the onlookers who had gathered to watch.

If anyone had still harbored doubts before that the Hua family’s eldest daughter was merely speaking beyond her station, one look at this scene dispelled them entirely. Perhaps her words were grand — but ask yourself this: what family would not want a daughter of such resolve and capability?

Wu Yong stood alone in the alley holding an umbrella, watching her depart. Now, he was no longer worried about Shizi Gu having trouble accounting for himself before the Emperor. What he was more worried about was that Shizi Gu was going to be looked down upon by this Hua family daughter — ha ha ha!

Who was the culprit behind the Hua family’s downfall into this state of ruin and fragmentation? Was it not the imperial family? And what was Shizi Gu’s surname? His surname was Gu — once the Hua family’s daughter found out, would things go well for him?

Shizi Gu’s hopes of winning the beauty looked as though they would require considerable grinding, and yet — why was Wu Yong so cheerful about it?

Wu Yong tilted his umbrella lower, smoothing away the gloating grin on his face, and looked toward the female physician standing by the inn entrance in her veiled hat. He considered approaching for a moment, then thought better of it. He would see her this evening instead.

As the chief culprit responsible for forcing her to stay behind, he honestly felt more like hiding away for a few days.