Having recognized that her own scheming fell short of others’, Empress Zong thereafter spoke with ever greater courtesy — whether to His Majesty, or to her two daughters-in-law — and her entire bearing became measured and restrained.

Even Nanny Zhou could not stop singing her praises, saying the Empress had grown more refined and dignified with each passing day.

And indeed, this newly composed Empress could look upon the array of warbling birds and singing swallows within the palace with perfect equanimity.

After all, she knew full well that however lovely any of them might be, in her husband’s eyes they were all no better than nuisances fit to be beaten off with a stick — what was there to be jealous over?

Moreover, after so long, not a single additional heir had emerged from the palace. Foolish as she might be in other respects, she could piece together a rough picture from that alone.

And so it was that even with her mind as empty as a hollow gourd, Zong Shi, having found her footing, carried herself with all the unshakeable composure befitting the empress of a nation.

Not long after the palace coup had been quelled, while the bloodstains on the flagstones before the Meridian Gate had yet to dry, Su Luoyun finally found a moment to attend to her father Su Hongmeng’s calling card.

These past days, Su Hongmeng’s heart had been like a spinning diabolo tossed into the air — lurching and tumbling without rest.

When he had first fled back to his hometown during the unrest, he had received the staggering news that Lord Beizhen had ascended to the Dragon Throne. Overcome with disbelieving joy, he had immediately ordered the servants to pack his luggage and set off posthaste for the capital, intending to call upon his daughter and son-in-law — and, incidentally, to claim for himself the future title of Imperial Father-in-Law.

Yet to his great frustration, though he had submitted his calling card to the palace on several occasions, his daughter Su Luoyun had consistently found reasons to avoid receiving him.

Su Hongmeng raged within his household, cursing that his daughter, now that she had risen to a phoenix’s height, no longer recognized her own father. Filial impiety was among the gravest of offenses — was she not afraid of censure from the remonstrating officials?

Nevertheless, though his daughter refused to see him, the entire surrounding ten li knew that his daughter had become the Crown Princess, and no small number of people came bearing gifts and favors in those days.

Su Hongmeng enjoyed a comfortable spell indeed. But good fortune did not last — word soon spread that the Crown Princess’s eye ailment had recurred, and that she and the Crown Prince had dissolved their marriage.

And just like that, the tables turned. Every one of those who had come bearing gifts now showed him an entirely different face. Even the widow he had taken as a second wife came to make a scene, declaring that Su Luoyun had some truly brazen nerve — actually requesting the separation herself.

Now all that cascading wealth, once pouring down like rain, had scattered across the ground with not a coin left to gather. Worse still, having offended the Crown Prince, his every step might henceforth be hedged in thorns.

After Su Luoyun had moved out of the palace, she had in fact dispatched a messenger to Su Hongmeng with a letter.

But this time, it was the father who refused to receive word. Having taken counsel from his new wife, Su Hongmeng sent back a letter of severance, declaring that Su Luoyun had failed to uphold a woman’s proper conduct, had not properly served the Crown Prince, and had brought shame upon the Su name — that as far as he was concerned, he had no such daughter.

Yet prior to this, Su Hongmeng had heedlessly agreed to undertake a great many tasks beyond his abilities, including promises to assist multiple relatives in altering land registration records.

Now that Su Luoyun had been expelled from the Eastern Palace, he was forced to return all the favors he had previously accepted.

But during the preceding war, his shops’ cash flow had collapsed, and every bit of those accepted favors had already been swallowed up — where was he to find money to repay anyone?

The result was that several furious creditors dragged him before the magistrate. In the midst of this debacle, he had no capacity whatsoever to concern himself with his estranged daughter.

Su Luoyun had long anticipated Su Hongmeng’s reaction. She gave only a cold, inward laugh, and felt no particular grief.

Yet she had not anticipated that someone entirely unexpected would come of their own accord to call upon her in Qingyu Alley. That person was her half-sister, Su Caijian.

Caijian had once, with Luoyun’s help, brought charges against the villainous cousin who had violated her honor, and had subsequently found herself a stable place to stay. Though her days required hard work and labor, she had at last put down roots.

Having been struck from the Su family registry, she had taken a new name, and was now helping out at an apothecary. Not long after she had been cast out, her mother Ding Shi had fallen gravely ill — her money having been swindled away by her elder brother and his wife, there was none left for treatment, and she had breathed her last in desolate, solitary misery.

With this, Caijian was left without father or mother. The proprietress of the apothecary where she worked pitied her circumstances, and — having also received Su Luoyun’s quiet commission — regularly looked after her, ensuring she had food to eat.

What was unexpected, however, was that Caijian had gone and arranged a marriage for herself.

The man she had come to know, Zhao Wu, was a traveling merchant of medicinal herbs — a confirmed bachelor well on in years. He had formerly worked as an apprentice in an apothecary, and once he had learned enough, had struck out on his own to buy and sell medicines on the road.

His family had been too poor, and so marriage had been perpetually delayed. His standards, moreover, ran a little high — the village girls with their sun-darkened faces and rough speech did not suit his taste.

But fate, it seemed, had its own designs. He had taken one look at Caijian, who was minding the apothecary counter, and was smitten at once. After all, Su Caijian was the daughter of a wealthy household; from childhood, she had paid for lessons in the four arts, and the elegant hand she wrote with was enough to make anyone catch their breath.

Zhao Wu came to the apothecary often on business, and at first the two spoke only as seller and buyer.

But as familiarity grew, and he heard the occasional verse slip from Caijian’s lips, Zhao Wu found his heart stirring with yearning. Had this woman’s path not been so beset with hardship, how else would a rough, illiterate fellow like him ever have crossed her way?

This was the only chance in his entire life to reach a branch of gold. Even a branch of gold fallen in the dust deserved tenderness.

And so, after much coming and going, he proposed to marry her — and to give the child she carried a proper name.

Caijian, with no one to rely upon, no longer harbored the girlhood ambition of finding a man carved from jade and virtue. This Zhao Wu was honest and straightforward, and possessed a good head for business; he had accumulated considerable savings, and the proprietress had spoken well of him as a dependable man worthy of a lifetime’s trust.

She accepted gladly, and thus became his wife. After their marriage, Caijian gave birth to a boy, whom they named Zhao Kang. Zhao Wu showed not the slightest reluctance, loving the child as his own.

Now Caijian was once again with child. When she had first heard that her elder sister had become the Crown Princess, she had felt too ashamed to show her face — she was no longer on the Su family register, after all, so what business had she going to trade on her sister’s name?

When news reached her that her sister’s eyes had fully recovered, she had let out a long breath of relief.

But then her husband, returning from a purchasing trip to the capital, told her it seemed the Crown Princess’s eye ailment had recurred and she had been driven from the palace by the Crown Prince. That night, Caijian wept in silence until dawn.

Not for any other reason — only for the deep, crushing remorse and the penitence that had arrived too late.

She felt that it had been her own thoughtless shove, all those years ago, that had left her sister with this affliction that could not be cured. And yet her sister, having at last secured a resplendent future, was to be robbed of it in just this way.

Caijian was no longer the ignorant young girl she had once been. When she recalled everything her elder sister had done for her, the tide of guilt came rushing down like a mountain flood.

When Zhao Wu heard her crying in the night and asked why, his eyes grew wider with every detail, until at last he stared and said: “All this time and I never knew your sister was the Crown Princess of the dynasty!”

Caijian had changed her family name and no longer bore the Su surname — naturally she had never gone about proclaiming such things. She felt herself struck from the family rolls, her reputation sullied; why make a scene and besmirch her sister’s name as well?

Zhao Wu, upon hearing everything, said at once: “Well then, your sister is in trouble — you must go see her!”

Caijian said quietly: “I’ve been worried for her too. But people say she’s offended the Crown Prince and been driven from the Eastern Palace — I’m afraid that…”

Zhao Wu, with the blunt candor of a country man, said: “What, she and the Crown Prince dissolved their marriage? That royal prince — can he truly be so petty? If they can’t live together, they separate and each goes their own way! A man who commands the Iron-Faced Army — a man who stands tall beneath heaven — how could he turn and make life difficult for the woman he once wed? Besides, she’s your sister. Bone broken still hangs by sinew. In times like these, kin must prop each other up. If you don’t go and comfort her, and she takes it to heart — what then?”

The husband and wife talked it over. Zhao Wu selected a large ginseng root from his stock of medicines, along with various other herbs and mountain goods, hired a carriage, and traveled to the capital. Asking directions as they went, they made their way to Qingyu Alley to visit the elder sister.

Su Luoyun had truly not expected this — that in the days when her life appeared to be going badly, this half-sister she had long since set aside from thought would come without fear of being tainted by association, traveling a long and dusty road with her husband, bringing medicines, eggs, and dried mushrooms and other country produce, all to call upon her.

Though she was inconvenienced by the fact that she was feigning blindness and feared giving herself away, Luoyun did not go out to meet her sister and brother-in-law in person.

Even so, a guest was a guest. She had Xiangcao prepare several lengths of fine fabric and two hundred taels of silver as a return gift — a belated gift, she intended it, for Caijian’s child.

But Xiangcao reported back that Zhao Wu had accepted only a single length of fabric, saying this was a maternal aunt’s token of affection for the child, and that as such it was proper to accept, so he could have clothes made for the little one. As for the silver, he would not hear of taking it — he had brought his wife to visit family, he said, not to beg at anyone’s door, and there was no reason to go home with silver. Besides, his sister-in-law had come out of the palace with a swollen belly and was now living alone — there would be no end to the expenses ahead of her, and he was not about to let her squander it on them.

After much back-and-forth, the silver was not taken after all. Caijian, believing her sister was too heartbroken to see anyone, only instructed Xiangcao to look after her sister well, and that if anything was needed, they should come and find the two of them — and then she took her leave.

Sometimes, whether the affection between two people can endure comes down to whether there is, at its root, a genuine goodwill.

That day, Luoyun watched her long-unseen sister from behind the window.

She no longer wore the fine silks and embroideries of before, but her cheeks were rosy and her eyes held light — she was clearly living well. That Zhao Wu, too, appeared to be a capable and forthright man.

Her sister Caijian had always been somewhat foolish and clumsy, but her lot in life was not poor — she had met a good person in the middle of her road.

Though this brother-in-law of humble birth was not well-read, he was magnanimous, sensible, and possessed of a certain upright chivalry. Luoyun found herself silently nodding in approval.

At the very least, with an honest and pure-hearted husband to guide her, Caijian would no longer stray onto wrong paths or stumble into foolish mistakes.

That Caijian had today come, great with child and heedless of what people might think, to visit her — it meant that the goodwill Luoyun had once extended to her sister had not, after all, gone to waste.

In the aftermath of the palace coup, Su Luoyun was personally welcomed back to the Eastern Palace by the Crown Prince. It was given out to the world that the couple had merely quarreled, and the Crown Princess had stepped out of the palace to clear her head.

An upheaval in the Eastern Palace’s marriage — and it was all merely a jest played upon the public?

Su Hongmeng could not help but cry out in bitter dismay; he felt as though he had been spun sharply around and wrenched his own back in the process.

When he next went to present his calling card at the palace, what Su Luoyun sent out was the very letter he had once refused to receive — the one he had sent to Su Luoyun in that moment of cold contempt. In reply, Su Luoyun had added a single line of her own:

“The bond between father and daughter was always thin — it is better we do not meet.”

As for the lawsuits entangling Su Hongmeng, they did not evaporate simply because the Crown Princess had returned to her position.

It seemed as though someone had passed along certain instructions within the courts — the county magistrate kept a rigidly impassive face throughout the proceedings, showing not the slightest deference to the future Imperial Father-in-Law.

In the end, Su Hongmeng was found guilty of appropriating others’ property, attempting to bribe officials, and obstructing the new Emperor’s land equalization policy. He was sentenced to forty strokes of the rod, and was beaten until his flesh split and bled.

The local gentry and common people who had come to hear the case watched every blow.

In no time at all, the tale of the Crown Prince’s impartial and unyielding justice — of his having personally chastened his own father-in-law — spread far and wide, becoming yet another celebrated story of the Crown Prince’s incorruptible character, recounted by teahouse storytellers across the land.

For anyone who had been thinking of requesting favors through personal connections over land disputes — well, they would have to weigh carefully just how much more precious their own backside was than that of the future Imperial Father-in-Law.

If the Crown Prince would not spare even the Crown Princess’s father, who else would dare test the law with their own person?

Yet this strict punishment of the father-in-law briefly gave rise to whispers that the Crown Princess, heavy with child, might have fallen from favor once more.

But the Crown Prince turned right around and petitioned the Emperor to posthumously confer upon the Crown Princess’s late mother, Hu Shi, the title of First-Rank Ennobled Lady, with the honorific epithet Huixian — “Wise and Virtuous.” At the same time, generous rewards were bestowed upon Su Luoyun’s maternal uncle and younger brother.

Her maternal uncle in particular — in recognition of his repeated services in protecting the Crown Prince — was elevated from a first-rank military position directly into the Ministry of War.

As for Su Guiyan, who had earlier been demoted and sent north, he had barely traveled half the journey before he was called back and promoted to the second rank, filling a vacancy in the Ministry of Personnel.

Second rank it may have been, but his prior career had amounted to no more than a Han Lin Academy compiler, followed by a seventh-rank post in the provinces. And yet he was entering the Ministry of Personnel — a ministry that, without a distinguished scholarly pedigree or exceptional merit, was simply not within reach.

Young Master Su was clearly a man of exceptional promise, whose future could not be measured.

As for Su Luoyun’s half-sister, who had taken a different family name, though she received no official title, she was privately granted an estate of productive land by the Crown Prince as a reward.

With that land to steward, that husband and wife could live as prosperous local landowners with ease to spare.

One might say that every member of the family had received grace and honor — save only for the father, Su Hongmeng, whose backside had been made to bear the rod.

And yet outsiders, upon hearing it all, could not bring themselves to blame the Crown Princess for any lack of filial piety — this man who was to have been the future Imperial Father-in-Law was simply unfit to hold the position. His private character had long been wanting: he had once kept a secret concubine, had been cold and cruel to his first wife until her death, and had neglected and mistreated that late wife’s two children. He was, in truth, beneath the beasts.

When the Emperor would rather set aside a living father-in-law and bestow honors exclusively upon a deceased mother-in-law, the direction of the imperial will was clear to all who could read the signs.

Even the most idle of remonstrating officials would not be so foolish as to bring impeachment charges accusing the Crown Princess of filial impiety — they would only bring resentment down upon themselves.

Su Hongmeng seethed with shame and indignation. Though he had a daughter who was Crown Princess, he had thoroughly alienated both her and her husband, and of all that great, heaven-sent fortune — not a single drop had found its way to him.

And so, after his business in the capital collapsed, he retreated to his old family home in the countryside and scarcely wished to show his face to anyone.

As for Zhao Dong, who had participated with the Crown Prince in that scheme to “tease” Consort Shu — he had at that time been dispatched to station troops around the imperial city, guarding against any feudal princes who might seize the moment of the coup to cause further unrest.

Once the capital had swiftly been pacified and the rebellion quelled, he led his army north, and truly went to the frontier.

Four months later, a battle report arrived from the northern territories. Zhao Dong had led his great army in the conquest of the final two remaining prefectures. The news of victory arrived, and the whole nation celebrated.

The Emperor issued a proclamation granting a general amnesty throughout the realm. Within the palace, a great flowing banquet was laid out, and sovereign and ministers made merry together. Luoyun, her body growing heavier by the day, attended the front hall for a time, making conversation with the assembled ladies before withdrawing to her sleeping chambers to rest.

Since the Emperor had ordered the execution of several great noble families, the new policies had proceeded with remarkable smoothness.

Combined with the confiscation of the property of the Wandering God of Wealth and the great houses, the imperial treasury was growing more abundant by the day.

This victory banquet celebrating the triumph of the northern expedition was laid out in considerably more style than the one held previously for the Second Prince’s wedding. But Su Luoyun’s body was increasingly weighed down, and after making polite conversation with the assembled ladies for a time, she returned to her sleeping chambers.

Many of the officials’ family members who had come to the palace this time were unfamiliar faces. Quite a few of the ladies were not quite at ease with formal court attire, and their speech carried the lilt of various regional accents.

Su Luoyun understood — these were the families of officials newly promoted in the special imperial examinations that Han Linfeng had held the previous month.

As the saying went, every new sovereign brought new ministers. The Emperor was now cultivating his own capable pillars of support.

It seemed there would be more and more unfamiliar faces at court banquets in the days ahead.

Though her condition made it impossible for her to personally attend to those ladies newly arrived at the palace, she took care to instruct her younger sister-in-law, Zheng Shi, to look after these ill-at-ease guests in her stead.

This was partly to prevent certain snobbish courtly wives — women in the mold of the second Fang daughter or the Duchess of Jun-guo from the old days — from privately making cutting faces at newcomers, which would only damage the Emperor and Crown Prince’s reputation for welcoming talented subjects.

It was once again early summer. The night air was seductive, the starlight intoxicating. She cradled her belly and wandered the imperial garden, pausing here and there as she walked.

Xiangcao and Ji Qiu had left the palace a month prior to be married. The newly assigned palace maids watched her shuffling steps with barely concealed anxiety:

“Crown Princess — please do go back and rest!”

Luoyun shook her head: “The imperial physician said the greatest danger with this child is that it grows too large. I’ve been eating well all day — if I don’t walk more, I won’t be able to push it out when the time comes. That would be a real disaster…”

She had only gotten halfway through her words when, from behind, a pair of arms wrapped around her, steadying her belly from beneath, so that each step she took felt far lighter on her waist and back.

She turned to look — Han Linfeng, who ought to have been at the great hall drinking with the guests, had somehow slipped away and wandered into the imperial garden as well.

“What are you doing out here?” Luoyun asked with a smile.

Han Linfeng pressed a kiss to her soft cheek. “The imperial physician estimates you’ll be giving birth any day now. I wanted to walk with you a while longer — it’ll give your legs and back more strength for when the time comes… What do you think, shall we go outside the palace for a stroll?”

Seeing him in such fine spirits today, she smiled and agreed.

And so the two of them climbed into a carriage together and made their way to Tianshui Alley.

It had become Han Linfeng’s greatest recent habit — to bring her, every few days, to stroll by the entrance of Qingyu Alley.

This was the place where they had first pledged their hearts to one another. Now, with Han Linfeng’s child in her belly, Luoyun walked hand in hand with him along those familiar blue-grey flagstones and felt as though she must be dreaming.

Amid the chirring of night insects, she walked in silence for a time before lifting her face to look at the man beside her, and said with a smile: “Do you still remember, back when we had just become acquainted? Every time I came back from the shop, you would appear without any apparent reason at the mouth of the alley, and then walk beside me the whole way without a single word. I was so mortified, I could have wished a gust of wind to blow you away!”

Han Linfeng could not in the slightest recall having shared any such awkward stretch of time with her. In his memory, even without speaking, their walks had been a pleasure to body and spirit alike.

Now, hearing this big-bellied woman beside him declare she had wished the wind would blow him away, he could not help but raise an eyebrow with a smile: “Wished I wouldn’t take the initiative, did you? Wanted the wind to blow me straight into your bedcovers?”

Luoyun burst out laughing: “What need was there for wind? Back then I dreamed every night of you pressing a dagger to my throat — truly, you were in my dreams night after night!”

Han Linfeng, finding her quite determined to ruin the mood, could not help but lower his head and press his lips to hers: “And you were in my dreams night after night as well. Come — let’s go to the little courtyard in Tianshui Alley, and I’ll tell you all about my dreams in careful detail…”

Su Luoyun was not entirely certain whether this man intended to recount his dreams with words alone or with rather more physical demonstration, and so she laughed and declined.

In a playful back-and-forth, the two of them made their way to the gate of the small courtyard in Tianshui Alley.

The Great Wei’s Crown Prince harbored a long-standing grievance that in the old days, though separated from his charming neighbor by only a garden wall, he had been unable to climb over to her bed. He had recently taken to inviting Luoyun to sleep in the little courtyard with him every few days, declaring it had a special romantic charm.

But tonight, when they pushed open the gate and stepped inside, Luoyun froze.

For the entire courtyard was filled with blooming purple lingxiang grass — spirit-fragrance — and countless fireflies drifted and glowed above it, weaving their gentle lights through the bewitching floral perfume. The scene before her was nothing short of a dream.

Seeing the delight and wonder on Luoyun’s face, Han Linfeng bent his head and smiled: “Have you forgotten? Today is your birthday. This is my gift to you.”

This unexpected joy was something only the two of them could truly understand.

For some days prior, yet another obtuse soul had come to present the Crown Prince with a beauty, declaring himself righteously a loyal minister and earnestly laying out the harms of a sovereign showing exclusive favor to a single person.

That fool had gone so far as to put the question to the Crown Prince with great solemnity: if a woman were to grow so spoiled by favor that she wished to pluck every star from the sky, what then would be done?

Han Linfeng had replied coolly: “The kind of woman worth a lifetime of exclusive favor would never speak such pointless nonsense as you just have. But if she truly asked — through the uttermost reaches of heaven and the deepest depths of the earth — I would do it, and there would be no need for a person with no connection to the matter to spare it any concern.”

When Luoyun had heard about this exchange at the time, she had not taken it particularly to heart. What she had not expected was that someone had indeed taken it to heart, and on the very day of her birthday, had truly filled an entire courtyard with “stars.”

Ah, this man — ruthless and decisive in the world beyond, swift and sure as a thunderclap in all things — yet in her presence, he carried always something of the mischievous spirit of a wayward boy…

Moved as she was, she wished to say something tender in return. But as she parted her lips with a smile, the color drained suddenly from her face. Her slender hand gripped Han Linfeng’s arm with sudden urgency, and she held her breath, unable to speak.

Han Linfeng saw the change in her expression and could not help but ask: “What’s wrong?”

Su Luoyun said, in bewilderment: “I think I… wet myself?”

…

In the early months of Su Luoyun’s pregnancy, the little creature in her belly had tormented its mother with relentless nausea and vomiting. And yet, as it turned out, it proved to be a thoroughly considerate soul in the end.

That night, the Crown Prince’s guard rode out on a horse at full gallop, racing to the Imperial Medical Office to rouse the duty physician and the midwife who had long since been arranged, then thundering back to the small courtyard in Tianshui Alley — only to find, amid the intoxicating fragrance of the spirit-grass filling the courtyard, that a loud and vigorous cry of a newborn child had already rung out.

The Crown Princess had gone and delivered the baby before the midwife even arrived.

When the midwife was still bustling about in flustered aftercare, Han Linfeng was staring in a daze at the small, wrinkled little creature — wrapped in swaddling cloth — that had been pressed into his hands.

The midwife beamed with delight: “Congratulations, Your Highness the Crown Prince! A royal heir has been added — His Majesty has a new imperial grandchild! The Crown Princess is truly blessed — this old servant hasn’t seen a birth go so smoothly in a long time!”

Never mind Han Linfeng — even Su Luoyun herself could barely make sense of what had just happened. Was childbirth not supposed to be as harrowing as a passage through the gates of death for a woman?

Why had she barely felt a thing? Why was it that she had merely felt a tightening across her belly, and before she had even made it back indoors, she had somehow given birth to a great “egg” standing right there on her feet?

By the time that “egg” was passed from the arms of the father — who had yet to collect his wits — into her own embrace, the tiny infant was yawning, its small face slowly, laboriously blossoming open.

That nose and those lips were the absolute image of his father’s!

After his yawn, the baby made a great effort to pry his eyes open, and looked at the mother gazing down at him with an expression that seemed half a smile, half a look of studied neutrality — apparently quite satisfied that his mother happened to be a beautiful woman.

It was deep in the night, and the palace banquet had not yet come to an end.

Back in the palace, everyone was in frantic motion. Empress Zong, leaning on the arm of her daughter Han Yao, was hauling herself into the carriage while grumbling breathlessly: “These two — clever as foxes every other day, and yet at the critical moment they behave like children with no sense! Of all the times — not staying in the palace to await the birth, but running off to play! Now this Empress can’t rest easy and has to make this whole trip. Did anyone bring the swaddling cloths I prepared? And bring the long binding cloth too — after a woman delivers, you must bind the belly tight or the figure won’t recover… Ouch — why is this carriage floor so hard? We’ll be bringing the little imperial grandchild back in this, what if it’s too rough? Quick, add more cushioning! Honestly, Liangzhou was better — not like this capital, so vast that traveling from the east end to the west end is enough to shake a person to pieces… Han Yao! What are you rolling your eyes for? Think I can’t see you? I’m telling you right now, you’ve just barely gotten with child yourself — if when your time comes you cause the same chaos as your sister-in-law, don’t think I won’t scold your husband along with you!”

All along the streets running from the imperial palace toward Tianshui Alley, lanterns were being lit one after another in succession.

Within the courtyard, the fireflies drifted slowly apart, scattering in every direction.

The fragrance of the spirit-grass was at its most dense, rising straight toward the heavens, as the capital took in yet another joyful occasion.

Luoyun cradled her child and nestled into Han Linfeng’s embrace, closing her eyes in perfect contentment. Han Linfeng gently touched his son’s tender, downy face, then lowered his head to breathe in the fragrance of his beloved wife’s loose and flowing hair.

At this moment, a fragrant cloud was added to her tresses — carrying now, it seemed, the faint sweet scent of milk.

Han Linfeng, too, closed his eyes in perfect contentment. Still warmed by the last lingering traces of wine, holding close the most precious souls in his world — the great and the small — he drifted into deep and peaceful sleep in the small courtyard of Tianshui Alley…