Su Luoyun said nothing. She passed it off as perspiring from the wine, claiming she felt a little light-headed and wished to turn in early.

And so Xiangcao helped her change into loose, comfortable clothing, made up the bed, and withdrew, pulling the door closed behind her.

Luoyun lay on the bed, her sightless eyes fixed on nothing, while a storm raged quietly within. She could not fathom what that deep and inscrutable man intended, nor could she begin to guess what he planned to do with her next.

Though Luoyun was quick-witted, she was clear-eyed about her own limits — she was a merchant’s daughter, and the sharpness she had honed over ledgers and abacus beads was of no use whatsoever in the whirlpool of court intrigue.

For a moment she thought of fleeing through the night with her brother, making their way to their uncle’s side.

But then she considered: a man who could infiltrate a military camp and abduct a captive rebel surely commanded many allies and enforcers. Running down a pair of siblings would be child’s play for him — and her uncle would be dragged into it as well.

She then thought of simply going to the authorities and reporting Han Linfeng, exposing to the world his abduction of the rebel prisoner.

But so much time had passed since that night. Even if she managed to file a report, she would need someone willing to believe that a blind woman could identify a man without seeing his face — and willing to believe that a man of such apparently dissolute reputation was capable of such a feat.

Far more likely was the prospect that she would never even reach the yamen to submit her complaint — run down by a carriage in broad daylight, or strangled in a dark corner of an alleyway along with her maidservant.

What about going to Princess Yuyang, then, and asking her to see justice done?

On one side, an imperial grandnephew of the royal house. On the other, a fragrant goods merchant of no consequence whatsoever. The Princess would in all likelihood follow the principle that family matters ought not be aired in public — first bestowing three feet of white silk upon Luoyun, and then closing the doors to settle the family’s private disgrace.

The more carefully she thought it through, the more every path seemed to lead straight to the underworld.

While her mind was running in these uneasy circles, she suddenly heard a cat mewing at the window lattice.

Had Ah Rong come round looking for food in the middle of the night again?

She slowly sat up — and it was then that she recalled the man’s parting words: a fine moonlit sky, a shame to let it go to waste. There had been something beneath those words.

Luoyun wrapped a robe loosely around herself, slipped on her embroidered house shoes, and pushed open the door to the sound of a sudden low roll of thunder, stepping out into the courtyard to “admire the moon.”

By now it was deep into the night. The rest of the Su household had long since fallen into sound sleep.

When she felt her way to the northern wall, her fingertips had not yet touched the bricks when a voice came from the top of the wall: “There were too many people about during the day to speak freely. Now that the night is still and quiet, shall we have a proper conversation, you and I?”

Words like these, spoken by a licentious Shizi, might ordinarily be taken for brazen flirtation with a respectable woman. But coming from him, in this moment, they struck Su Luoyun more as a summons from the underworld — the whisper of an envoy come to collect a soul.

She drew a slow breath. Either way was likely to end the same — she might as well speak with him. If some chance of survival could be wrested from the jaws of certain death, then Heaven had taken pity on the two of them and offered one thin thread of hope.

With that thought, she tilted her head slightly, her hair loose about her shoulders, and asked with careful composure: “Does Shizi intend to hold this conversation while straddling the wall?”

Before she had finished asking, her waist was encircled by an arm, and in an instant she had been lifted up and carried over the high wall, landing once again within the grounds of the Shizi’s residence.

Luoyun’s heart clenched with suspicion — had he changed his mind? Was he bringing her here to silence her for good?

But Han Linfeng guided her forward along the garden path at an unhurried pace, his manner easy and measured.

As they continued on, she found herself led to what seemed an open training ground, the ground underfoot covered in fine sand.

In her uncertainty, she stumbled against a rack hung with swords and blades.

The cold touch of iron, and the edge she had accidentally grazed, made plain that these were not ornamental weapons for display — they were instruments for killing, every one of them.

Han Linfeng caught her hand in time to prevent the blades from cutting her slender fingers. Then he lifted one of the swords, drew it from its scabbard, and studied the cold gleam of the blade as he said: “This sword has been with me a long time — the one I handle best. Its blade is short, which makes it far more agile in the turn. Within the smallest of spaces, it can shave the nose from a face or split a belly open.”

Su Luoyun breathed in the cold, metallic scent rising from the blade and decided she was being deliberately frightened.

Oddly enough, the intimidation had the opposite effect — it steadied her. She lowered her eyes and replied: “This commoner is well aware that Shizi’s martial skills are formidable. Even a fallen leaf or a broken blade of grass could become a killing weapon in your hands. As for a weak woman like myself, I would hardly be worthy of dirtying Shizi’s sword. A length of rope would be more than sufficient.”

If death was truly unavoidable, she would still rather keep her body whole than have it carved open.

The Shizi listened to her desperate attempt at flattery and gave a quiet laugh — apparently no longer in the mood to frighten her. He guided her to a warm inner room, where they settled onto the matted floor, and the sounds of water being heated and tea being prepared followed.

As he rinsed the small tea bowls, he said: “I thought you would likely not be able to sleep tonight. It seemed better to share a cup of tea and have a conversation. Should I cause any offence, I ask for your forbearance.”

Su Luoyun did not know what he intended to discuss. She could only sit straight on the woven mat, kneeling formally, and wait for him to speak.

Han Linfeng poured her a cup of tea, then said: “I had earlier thought there was a quiet retreat on the outskirts of the city — reasonably peaceful — where I might ask Miss Su to stay for a few days. Once I had made the necessary arrangements, I would escort you and your brother to Liangzhou to reside for a few years.”

His tone did not change — unhurried, courteous, composed — speaking of what amounted to house arrest as casually as if he were extending a pleasant invitation to a spring excursion.

Su Luoyun found this anything but agreeable. Her shop had only just found its footing; her brother’s examinations were nearly upon him. To be forcibly relocated by Han Linfeng would reduce everything she had built to nothing.

And Liangzhou — a place where they had no family, no connections. If they were sent there, would they not simply be lambs waiting for slaughter?

Yet at this moment, did she have any right to choose? Staying alive was the only thing that mattered.

Su Luoyun could only first thank the Shizi for his mercy, then ask, with careful tentativeness, whether they might not go at all.

Her brother’s examinations were imminent, and he had no part in any of this — she asked the Shizi to see clearly and spare him at least, to refrain from sending him to Liangzhou as well.

Han Linfeng seemed to have anticipated her reluctance. He sat across from her, regarding her loosened hair and the plainness of her face, and said lightly: “That was my earlier intention. But thinking that you would likely object, I changed my mind.”

At these words, Luoyun’s heart seized again. Was he now deciding that eliminating her cleanly was the neater solution?

She hastened to smooth things over: “Actually, Liangzhou sounds quite pleasant — a place that could produce a man of Shizi’s bearing must surely be a most nurturing land…”

Han Linfeng heard her hollow and perfunctory words and gave another soft laugh. Then he said: “This evening at the dinner table, I asked you what business your uncle had in the north. You claimed not to know — but I know. He joined a righteous army in the north at that time, did he not?”

Luoyun thought for a moment. Since he had clearly investigated thoroughly, there was little point in denying it. She replied: “My uncle and Shizi are alike in one regard — both men of iron integrity.”

Like all common people who wanted nothing more than to live in peace, she had never approved of her uncle’s reckless act in his youth. And yet in this moment, she found herself wishing she too had once joined the rebel cause, had once carried a banner for Cao Sheng.

That way they would all be on the same side, and behind closed doors there would be room to negotiate.

Her small calculation was naturally not lost on Han Linfeng. The corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly — and then, with no warning, he lifted the silk cloth draped over the nearby table to reveal a sand terrain model of the Great Wei’s northern border.

He guided Su Luoyun’s hand to trace the undulating ridgelines of the hills and mountains, and said in a quiet, even tone: “What claim do the men of the Great Wei have to ‘iron integrity’? Every ridge and valley your fingers touch is land the Great Wei lost years ago. On those lands, countless displaced people remain — enslaved and trampled under the boots of Tieft nobles.”

Su Luoyun knew, of course, that the Great Wei had once lost territory in the north. But she was a merchant’s daughter, and politics had never been her concern in daily life. She did not understand why he was suddenly asking her to feel the contours of a sand model.

Han Linfeng continued: “I too once thought nothing of it — a passage of history, a national humiliation, nothing more. I might feel a flash of indignation at the incompetence of the Han imperial ancestors, and then nothing further. Life went on as it always had. If one chose not to dwell on it, one could live in ease and contentment. Until, at the age of fourteen, a chance encounter brought me to the twenty northern prefectures. That year, a severe drought had struck. The displaced Wei people of the north were being forced to surrender their pastureland to Tieft nobles, and in exchange they lost their cattle, their fields, their livelihoods — left with nothing but broken pots and tattered tents, compelled to wander with their wives and children. ‘Corpses carpeting the land’ was no longer a phrase in a book. It was before my eyes.”

His voice was low, carrying a grief and indignation far older than his years, as though he had sunk once more into that vivid, nightmare-like memory.

Luoyun fell silent. She had never seen it herself, but even to imagine it was enough to know what a shattering, desolate scene it must have been.

Han Linfeng’s resonant voice continued: “From that time on, I finally understood why so many men of conviction could not let go of the cause to reclaim the lost territories. I finally understood the despair in those lines — the remnant people weep until no tears remain, into the dust of foreign rule. And yet we of the Han imperial house now sit comfortably in the splendor of the Huai South, and not a word is spoken of the twenty northern prefectures. I too live among the rest, passing the days in pleasure and numbness — yet in my own heart I have long felt a quiet shame, telling myself I was no better than a man like Cao Sheng, who threw caution to the winds.”

“And so,” Luoyun said softly, “when Shizi heard that Cao Sheng had been captured, you seized the opportunity and acted to free him?”

“Yes,” Han Linfeng replied. “I had long heard of the righteous deeds of Champion Cao, and felt myself unworthy in comparison. Later I had the fortune to meet him in person and found him a man of upright character — a man who took up arms not for power or position, but from a surge of conviction in his chest. Had he been brought in chains to the capital, he would not have survived. And after him, there would have been no one left to raise the banner in the north against the Tieft oppression. So even at the cost of nine deaths to one chance of survival, I was willing to try — to free Champion Cao. And in a sense, young miss, by sheltering me, you too rendered some small service to the displaced people of the north.”

Su Luoyun felt entirely unworthy of being crowned with such lofty praise as “serving the people” and let out a helpless, self-deprecating laugh. “Shizi has said a great deal. But what does any of this have to do with a merchant’s daughter like me?”

Han Linfeng, noticing she had not touched her tea, poured the cold cup away and refilled it, then said with candor: “I know, young miss, that you are a law-abiding person of good conscience. I speak plainly tonight not to solicit your sympathy, but only to let you understand that the secret between us is no treasonous act of malice against the realm — it was a moment’s act of righteous impulse. I harbor no seditious intent, and I have no ongoing connection to affairs in the north. I hope you will not torment yourself with a sense of guilt you do not deserve, or live every day in dread.”

Su Luoyun blinked slowly. Though she was a woman who had not given such matters much thought in her daily life, her uncle’s influence meant she did know something of Cao Sheng.

He was a man the court had placed a bounty upon — yet in the mouths of common people, he was spoken of as a man of gallantry and burning conviction.

What Han Linfeng was saying was also clear enough in its implication: rescuing Cao Sheng had been a personal act of conscience, unconnected to the household of Prince Beizhen, and had nothing to do with any conspiracy against the throne.

After this, there would be no further ripples. She need not fear being drawn into any treasonous upheaval.

Han Linfeng finished speaking and watched as Su Luoyun fell into apparent contemplation, her head bent in quiet thought.

He had sent people to investigate this young woman’s background from the very start. He knew she had an uncle she was close to — Master Hu, who in his younger years had enlisted with Cao Sheng’s righteous army, and only returned home when family circumstances compelled him. Even now, the man seemed to maintain some contact with the rebel forces in the north. A man of genuine conviction.

He was fairly certain that having said all this, the young miss Luoyun would understand.

And she was clever enough to hear the veiled warning contained within his words — if she entertained any thought of reporting this matter, she would have to weigh carefully her uncle’s safety. Her uncle’s past did not bear close scrutiny.

And rendering aid to a rebel army carried the punishment of extermination to nine degrees of kin.

Luoyun understood, naturally. The Shizi’s tone remained gentle — as composed as his habitual disguise, all sharp edges wrapped in layers of cultured refinement.

But the moment she failed to play along, the retaliation that would follow would be swift, bloody, and without mercy.

The wise do not tear matters open by speaking bluntly. She chose to follow the current and replied gracefully: “What Shizi has said… what has that to do with a merchant’s daughter like myself? If Shizi has investigated thoroughly, he should know — had you never mentioned it, I would have treated the matter on that boat as nothing more than a dream, and lived as though it had never happened.”

Han Linfeng was not quite satisfied. He lifted the tea cup and held it toward her. “If you truly intended to treat it as though it had never happened, then why did your manner toward me grow so markedly cold? And why such urgency to move out of Sweet Water Lane?”

Su Luoyun hesitated, caught slightly off guard, then pressed her lips together and replied: “We were nothing more than neighbors to begin with. And with men and women observing proper boundaries, there was no need for any particular closeness. As for moving — when the shop turns a profit, it is natural enough to want to find larger accommodations.”

Han Linfeng watched her still digging in her heels and let a slow smile spread across his face. “Now that we have spoken frankly, I hope that in the future, when you see me, you might be somewhat more agreeable. There is an old saying: a good neighbor is worth a thousand taels of gold. Once you move away, whoever takes your place may be a person of lesser character, and if friction arises between them and my household, that would be unfortunate. If you feel my plan to have you relocated to Liangzhou was unnecessary, then is it not equally unnecessary for you to uproot yourself? Why not simply stay in Sweet Water Lane with your brother, as before?”

Su Luoyun caught the faint fragrance of the tea he was offering and slowly reached out to accept the cup, her thoughts struggling to keep pace with his.

Was he saying that they could treat the whole matter as if it had never occurred, and that he would not confine her and her brother?

He was… not afraid she would let it slip?

But she dared not ask — afraid that too many questions might make him reconsider.

Han Linfeng had clearly thought it all through already. He added that while he would not disrupt Luoyun’s daily routine, he would have someone quietly watching over the siblings from the shadows, lest they encounter any “danger.” Should this prove inconvenient in any way, he hoped the young miss would bear with it.

Still a warning, then — telling her she would be monitored, kept under quiet surveillance.

As for not allowing her to move away — likely because having her close made observation more convenient. Like a tiger or leopard that will not eat its prey just yet, but still wants to keep the meat in view.

This man had been unhurried throughout, balancing softness and firmness without once tipping into impropriety — so perfectly managed that even now, while being placed under surveillance and stripped of her freedom, she would still have to genuinely thank him for his consideration.

Su Luoyun drew a long, slow breath, then lifted the cup he had offered and drank it down in full.

The tea was the finest Lushan Cloud Mist variety — mellow and lingering, with no trace of anything strange or chemical. As the warmth spread through her belly, there were no signs of cramping or poisoning.

It seemed he had no intention of killing her after all.

Luoyun let out a breath. “Shizi is kind and magnanimous. Since you have treated me with such consideration, I will naturally go along with your wishes and proceed as you suggest — as though nothing has occurred. You are quite right: a good neighbor is worth a thousand taels of gold. However fine a new house might be, it would be hard to find a neighbor as generous and gracious as yourself. I will go to the housing agent tomorrow to cancel the arrangement, and continue as your neighbor. What does Shizi think?”

Luoyun was well aware that this Han Shizi was no simple man, and that ruthlessness and the willingness to silence someone permanently were not beyond him. Yet for reasons she could not quite fathom, he had abruptly reconsidered and extended this unexpected goodwill. Having been granted it through this candid late-night conversation, she was naturally wise enough to receive it graciously, and had no illusions about whether she truly had any other choice.

Moreover — he was not wrong. What the men of the Great Wei lacked most was precisely that surge of conviction in the chest. He had acted on nothing more than such a surge, doing something that genuinely benefited the people of the border regions. If she were to report him for it, she would be no better than a beast.

And in any case, the Shizi would return to Liangzhou after a few more years in the capital. As long as she kept her place, never raised the matter again, and gave him reason to trust her discretion, she could only hope that now that everything was out in the open, there would be no further complications between them.

Han Linfeng appeared satisfied with his neighbor’s good sense. He rose to see her back.

Outside the warm inner room, rain had begun to fall. It seemed the moon was not to be admired tonight after all. Han Linfeng held an umbrella and guided Luoyun all the way back to the courtyard wall, then with one arm circling her slender waist, vaulted lightly over the wall and set her down once more in her own small courtyard.

By now Luoyun could hardly worry about the proprieties between men and women — she had no choice but to let him carry her over the wall again.

Once her feet were on the ground, she gave a rueful smile. “This wall… must be no more than level ground to Shizi.”

Han Linfeng walked her to the door of her room and said lightly: “I have merely studied a few years of martial arts — nothing more. Rest easy, young miss. My reputation may be somewhat free and easy, but I do not engage in conduct that is beneath contempt. However high or low this wall, it can be a wall of perfect peace and safety for the young miss.”

Su Luoyun dipped into a curtsey in return: “Shizi is a person of integrity and proper conduct, and treats others with courtesy and respect — a man of true distinction. I naturally feel at ease. The night is late — I will not see you off. Please, Shizi, head back and rest.”

That night’s heart-to-heart talk — conducted beneath a surface of mutual wariness, punctuated by layers of mutual flattery — had been genuinely exhausting.

Han Linfeng said, with quiet finality: “If the young miss has truly let it go, I hope that in the future when we meet, she will not deliberately avoid me. Between neighbors, a degree of warmth is better.”

Before the words had quite finished, the man seemed to have already drifted back over the courtyard wall.

Su Luoyun let out a slow, releasing breath, then felt her way back inside.

She had expected that after what she had been through that night, sleep would be impossible.

But when she lay down, accompanied by the sound of rain beyond the window and the faint lingering fragrance she had carried back from the Shizi’s residence, she found herself unexpectedly yawning — and the moment her head met the pillow, she sank into deep and untroubled sleep.

When she woke, she felt clear-headed and refreshed. The insomnia that had plagued her these past weeks had cured itself without any remedy at all.

Perhaps it was that Han Linfeng’s voice was simply too deep and pleasant to listen to — and the things he had said had been expressed with such sincerity. Su Luoyun did not believe it all without reservation, yet she found, against her expectations, that something in her had settled.

When she thought about it carefully, he was a man deserving of some sympathy as well. A Shizi without real power, treading carefully through every step of his life in the capital — of course he had no wish to stir up unnecessary trouble.

That hot-blooded business of abducting a man by force had truly been no more than an impulsive act carried out in a moment of overheated conviction.

He had treated her with sincerity and genuine courtesy, and had helped her more than once. How could she repay kindness with ingratitude? Better to follow his suggestion — remain as neighbors, and live in mutual peace.

The following morning at the breakfast table, Su Luoyun informed the household that the night before, the earth deity had come to her in a dream and declared that this place was a gathering point of auspicious forces — a spot of exceptional fortune — and that to move elsewhere would invite needless expenditure and disruption. She had thought it over carefully, and they would not be moving after all.

Su Guiyan was baffled by when exactly his sister had become so superstitious that even her practical decisions were now governed by dreams and omens.

The moving cart was already waiting at the mouth of the lane, and she was suddenly announcing they would not be going.

But the household had always been governed by his sister’s judgment. If she said they were not moving, they were not moving.

And so after all that upheaval — and the loss of the deposit paid to the housing agent — the Su household in Sweet Water Lane settled back into their ordinary routine, as before.

Only Xiangcao began to notice something peculiar: the young mistress, whenever she left the house these days, moved as if her feet were wrapped in slow cloth, barely reaching the lane entrance even after a considerable time.

In the past, they had set out before daylight had fully broken.

Recently, however, the young mistress did not leave until the sky had brightened fully, and even then would pause and stand still partway along the lane — seemingly listening intently to the activity from the neighboring Green Fish Lane.

If she caught the sound of Han Shizi’s carriage being readied, or heard him exchanging a word with his page boys, the young mistress would quicken her steps, timing it so that she and Han Shizi emerged at the junction of the two lanes at precisely the same moment.

The two of them would then exchange courteous pleasantries — a word or two about the weather, whether the clouds were large or small, how well they had slept the night before — before parting ways in opposite directions.

On the surface it appeared no different from any ordinary neighborly exchange. But as time went on, Xiangcao could not help turning the matter over in her mind, and began to suspect that somewhere along the way the young mistress had fallen quietly and helplessly in love with the charming Shizi next door.

After the affair with Young Master Lu, the young mistress had seemed wounded in matters of the heart, and unwilling to speak of marriage or courtship.

If her heart was stirring again, that was, at its core, a welcome thing.

But a Shizi of Prince Beizhen’s household, looked at from any angle, was no suitable match for the young mistress.

When Xiangcao carefully sounded out the situation and hinted that the Shizi appeared to prefer ladies with small feet, Su Luoyun only gave a helpless laugh and murmured a verse to herself: This matter has nothing to do with the wind and moon — it is all a question of people and the world’s arrangements. “Ah, Xiangcao, you would not understand.”

Xiangcao had no idea that these carefully timed departures had nothing to do with matters of the heart.

The Shizi had previously suspected her of avoiding him out of guilt — now that everything was out in the open, if she continued to dodge him as she would a viper, what trust could possibly remain between them?

Since he was willing to believe her, she naturally had to put on the proper appearance of good neighborly relations — crossing paths with the Shizi at the lane entrance, greeting him with a smile, warm as family.

As the saying goes: one does not strike a smiling face with an open hand. Keeping up friendly contact and tending to that rapport could only be to her benefit.

These past several meetings at the lane entrance had gone quite pleasantly. The two of them had developed a mutual understanding — and not a single word was spoken of the turbulent undercurrents that had swirled between them before.

That very day, the Shizi had even seen her personally to her carriage, and upon hearing she had not eaten breakfast, produced from within his robe a small packet of pear-juice sweets and pressed one into her hand to tide her over.

He had even mentioned that he had earlier thought of having someone follow her — but then reconsidered, worried it would make her uncomfortable in public, and decided against it.

Such gentle speech, such approachable ease — it was exactly like having an elder brother, if a brother who shared neither of her parents.

Su Luoyun was at ease at last, free to turn her full attention to her own affairs.

Yet sometimes storms arrive with very little warning.

One afternoon, as Su Luoyun was in the shop taking stock of inventory, the shopkeeper came to inform her that a distinguished guest had called, and wished to see her — reportedly the Second Miss of the Duke of Lu’s household, a young lady surnamed Fang.

At that name, something stirred in Luoyun’s memory — this Second Miss Fang was the very young woman Han Linfeng had once dismissed for having feet that were too large.