Caiwei suppressed the tumultuous thoughts in her eyes, put away the Weaver’s Needle on the table, and instructed the weaving maids around her to close all the chamber’s open windows and lock the doors before leaving.

The First Emperor had not yet returned from his eastern tour, and the Director of Seals and Tallies accompanied him. This standard deep robe could only hang here, waiting for the First Emperor’s imperial carriage to return before presenting it.

As head seamstress, Caiwei bore great responsibility, so in the Weaving Chamber’s storage room, a small space held bedding where she sometimes slept directly to keep night watch.

After confirming no one was present, Caiwei closed the door. The windowless storage room became pitch dark. She unveiled the night-luminous pearl covered with black cloth on the table, and a green luminescence glowed forth.

Caiwei lifted the wooden board beneath the bedding and took out a nearly completed black deep robe hidden there. In style, it was identical to the standard robe in the Weaving Chamber. But upon touching it, one could tell this standard robe was pieced together from fabric scraps—only the sewing technique was so superb that to the naked eye, one couldn’t see the seams joining the fabric pieces.

Caiwei looked at this standard robe with satisfaction. As head seamstress, the Weaver’s Needle naturally fell to her keeping at night. Using the scraps from cutting the Black Standard, she had actually managed to create another standard robe.

She had long known the Black Standard’s benefits. She’d wrapped two long pieces of Black Standard fabric inside her sleeves, frequently placing her hands within. Her stubborn chilblains that wouldn’t heal for years were thus miraculously cured, and her hands recovered their delicate fairness—truly incredibly miraculous.

Recalling the purple marks she’d once inadvertently glimpsed on the Minister’s wrist—though she didn’t know what ailment it was, as long as he had this standard robe, it would be completely no problem!

Her Minister naturally deserved this standard robe.

This was also the finest robe she could make for him.

Gone to the northern frontier for over two years—she wondered if the Minister was well in all things…

Under the night-luminous pearl’s cold, clear radiance, Caiwei held the standard robe in a daze for a moment, then rallied her spirits, took out the Weaver’s Needle, and slowly sewed.

Shangjun

Wang Li led his team waiting at the military camp entrance. The personal guards moved quickly—shortly after orders were given, they’d swiftly collected supplies and assembled. Each guard accompanying the Minister back to Xianyang had, besides the warhorse beneath them, another horse for rotation. Wang Li checked twice, satisfied to find no oversights—they could depart anytime.

However, he figured after A’luo finished packing and bid farewell to His Highness, it would take at least another hour, so he planned to let these guards rest in place.

But with a glance up, he saw the young Minister riding a horse slowly emerging from the military camp.

Wang Li blinked, his face showing obvious surprise.

“What?” The young Minister controlled his warhorse to stop before Wang Li, truly unable to pretend he didn’t see his expression.

“Oh, nothing. I thought you and His Highness would chat for a while at least.” Shouldn’t he clearly explain Xianyang affairs? They hadn’t returned in over two years. But thinking again, Wang Li felt he’d overthought it—A’luo’s father was gravely ill, so naturally he’d be anxious to rush back.

The young Minister looked down at his hand gripping the reins. How could he not want to say more to His Highness? With his body’s condition, after returning to Xianyang, he might no longer be able to hold on.

This parting was farewell forever.

Yet he could say nothing.

How perceptive was His Highness? Even one more word, one more glance might make him notice.

But it was fine. He’d written everything he wanted to say and needed to entrust into silk letters, secretly writing these past days. He hadn’t realized he was such a talkative person—he’d deduced all possible events after His Highness ascended the throne, already writing twenty years ahead.

After returning to Xianyang, if he had time, he’d continue writing. His Highness would surely live to an age greater than the First Emperor’s current years.

The more he thought, the more unwilling he felt… The one who should accompany His Highness should be him…

Wang Li turned his horse, moving closer to the young Minister’s side, sniffing: “Eh? A’luo, why did you use incense? This scent is a bit strange…”

The young Minister’s wrist trembled imperceptibly. He pulled the reins, spurring his horse to widen the distance between them slightly.

Wang Li wanted to say more, but from the corner of his eye glimpsed another horse charging from the military camp—Crown Prince Fu Su.

I knew such a short time definitely wasn’t enough! Wang Li touched his nose, tactfully leading the guards away to form ranks at a distance.

The young Minister performed salutations to His Highness from horseback. He controlled his facial expression—not a trace of abnormality could show, or the other would detect something wrong.

Fu Su stopped his warhorse, drew something from his chest, and handed it over: “I forgot to give you this earlier. Going to Xianyang, not at my side—prioritize safety above all.”

The young Minister took it and looked down—this was a bamboo travel pass.

When envoys traveled, they carried passes to show credibility, so travel passes served as proof of passage. The so-called bamboo travel pass wasn’t actually carved from bamboo, but cast in bronze, shaped like a split bamboo section with several rows of gold-inlaid inscriptions. When five bamboo travel passes encircled together, they could form a complete bamboo cylinder. Ordinary bamboo travel passes were divided into water and land passes—possessing them meant tax-free travel throughout Qin territories by water or land. But the one Fu Su gave him held different significance—presenting this pass, all post stations and checkpoints would treat the bearer with the highest regard, even granting the right to knock at city gates after nightfall closure.

This was for his consideration, fearing his eagerness to return home would cause delays on the road.

The young Minister clutched the bamboo pass in his hand, saying with difficulty: “Many thanks, Your Highness.”

“As it should be—fortunately I remembered.” Fu Su smiled with relief, patted his tutor’s shoulder, urging: “Go quickly… at least… see the King of Yiyang one last time…” Fu Su didn’t think his words heartless. The King of Yiyang was the most low-key existence in Xianyang. His son had accompanied him to the frontier for over two years without returning once. Since matters had reached the point of sending a letter, then he was truly gravely ill beyond cure. He also deliberately spoke more severely—otherwise, harboring too much hope then facing cruel reality might be unacceptable.

Indeed, seeing his tutor’s face pale several shades, Fu Su squeezed the bony, thin body beneath his palm and frowned. How had this boy made himself so emaciated? He truly felt uneasy letting him return to Xianyang alone. But his identity was sensitive—before his father emperor issued an edict, he absolutely couldn’t step foot in Xianyang, or he definitely would have accompanied his tutor back.

One last time…

The young Minister lowered his eyes. His distraught expression readjusted after a moment. He tucked the bamboo pass safely in his chest and earnestly bid farewell to His Highness: “Your Highness, this subject departs.”

“Mm, take good care.” Perhaps because the other’s tone was too solemn, Fu Su paused in a daze before nodding in response.

The young Minister looked at him deeply once, then pulled the reins, turned, and urged his horse away.

Fu Su felt that glance contained countless indescribable complex emotions. He wanted to reach out and stop the other to ask clearly, yet felt he was just overthinking.

Hesitating thus, unable to explain his inner unease, he simply stood in place, watching his tutor spur his horse toward that troop through the billowing yellow sand until they merged with the horizon and could no longer be seen.

Xianyang, Shengping Alley, Gan Residence

Caiwei pulled her thin shirt closer, standing at the Gan residence entrance, raising her hand to touch the ancient tin door knocker. After hesitating for a long while, she finally knocked on the door.

Steadying herself, while waiting, Caiwei had time to look around. About ten years ago, she’d accompanied the Minister back to the Gan residence once to fetch old clothes. At that time, Shengping Alley was mostly filled with peddlers and menial laborers—quite a marketplace atmosphere. Now it appeared even more prosperous, but the area around the Gan residence had emptied out. Though the Gan residence remained consistently low-key, it had regained some of the former glory of prominent families with bells and cauldrons.

Before long, the door creaked open. Caiwei immediately turned, carefully hiding her inner nervousness while conjuring her gentlest smile.

But before she could introduce herself, the elderly gatekeeper, after a start, already asked joyfully: “Could this be Miss Caiwei? Come to see our young master?”

“You… still remember me?” Caiwei was astonished.

“Remember, remember.” The gatekeeper quickly opened the door wider, pulling Caiwei inside. Having served as the Gan family gatekeeper for most of his life, visitors to the residence aside from the young master’s twelfth year could be counted on one hand. This Miss Caiwei had been personally brought home by the young master back then. Though merely a small palace maid, she left a deep impression.

Look—the young master had just returned to Xianyang, and Miss Caiwei already came visiting.

The gatekeeper glanced at the double ring drooping bun on Caiwei’s head indicating she remained unmarried, his smile growing increasingly attentive. He led Caiwei around the spirit screen wall to rest in the side hall first, while he himself hastened in two steps to notify the inner courtyard.

When Caiwei last came to the Gan residence, her Minister had led her straight to the rear courtyard without stopping in the front hall. So standing in the side hall, Caiwei examined the furnishings with interest. Having spent so many years in Xianyang Palace and frequently lingering at Gaoquan Palace, Caiwei had seen countless rare treasures. Moreover, having become head seamstress of the Weaving Chamber and handled innumerable precious fabrics, her vision and taste equaled those of noble ladies from prominent families.

Strictly speaking, the Gan residence side hall’s furnishings, aside from some heavy, solemn bronze vessels, consisted entirely of scrolls of bamboo texts. She’d heard that after General Gan Mao’s defection, the Gan residence had endured prolonged hardship. Though later producing a peerless genius, because the First Emperor arranged for him to serve as Crown Prince Fu Su’s tutor, the family had remained obscure until now.

The entire courtyard also appeared somewhat aged, but clearly someone maintained it—even the green bricks gleamed spotlessly clean without dust. The entire Gan residence gave the feeling of those bronze vessels covered in verdigris—though buried deep in earth, their bearing diminished not one bit. Whenever they saw daylight again, they compelled reverence.

Caiwei didn’t wait long. Perhaps because the Gan residence wasn’t large, the gatekeeper quickly returned panting, directly leading her to the rear courtyard. Caiwei felt no embarrassment, cheerfully following.

Actually, female guests like her should properly be received by the lady of the house. But the Minister’s mother had passed away many years ago, and the King of Yiyang hadn’t remarried. Because of Gan Mao’s affairs back then, the Gan family had exhausted their wealth. Aside from the legitimate King of Yiyang still remaining at the Gan residence, other branch families had long since separated and left. The Gan residence’s members were truly simple beyond measure—there was no lady of the house.

Passing through courtyards deep with vegetation, they reached a courtyard entrance. The gatekeeper proceeded no further, smiling as he said he’d already notified the young master, who could enter directly.