During those days, Caijian had been plagued by nightmares — dreaming again and again of that day she had been drunk, and of the brute coming at her, and of being helpless to resist.

So in the moments when she could not make up her mind, she had taken out the petition Su Luoyun had written for her several times, and each time she read it, she wept.

It was only today, when she had no choice but to climb into the bridal sedan chair, and she heard the arrogant swagger in Ding Gucai’s voice coming from the front courtyard, and the nausea came rising up again — that she finally made up her mind to follow her elder sister’s example and fight with everything she had.

And so when the magistrate asked for her answer, she said it without hesitation: “I beg your honor to uphold justice for this commoner woman. This commoner woman is not willing to marry that vile man.”

The presiding magistrate had seen the signed confession sent over by the Shizi’s residence and already knew what the situation was.

He cast the rod down from the bench, had Ding Gucai beaten in open court until the skin broke and the flesh was laid bare, and then had him taken to the prison cells to await transportation to the frontier.

As for the Ding couple, being accessories after the fact who had sheltered their criminal son, they were both taken into custody as well — they would not be released until they had paid the damages owed to the victim.

Su Hongmeng had gone to all this trouble, and the matter had ended up in open court after all. He shook his head in wordless exasperation.

Since it had been a closed hearing, he had at least managed to preserve his own face. When he came out, he turned a black expression on Su Caijian and snorted coldly: “You have shamed the Su family utterly. Since you are so capable, you can carry that belly of yours wherever you please!”

With that, Su Hongmeng threw down his sleeve and walked away, leaving her behind.

Su Caijian stood there, face pale, her heart hollow. There had been a time when she believed her father doted on her.

But when it came to it, she discovered that paternal love amounted to exactly this much, and no more. Sometimes a person must be placed in another’s circumstances before she can understand the difficulty of it.

She was no longer in the Su family’s genealogy, and she had no one to depend on. The blood had surged up in her in a flash of courage, but once she stepped out of the magistrate’s court with that courage spent, she was nothing but lost and frightened.

A small donkey cart had been waiting outside the court gates for some time. Nanny Tian climbed down from the carriage and beckoned to Caijian.

Caijian flew toward her as though clutching at a lifeline. Nanny Tian pressed a small bundle into her hands and said: “I have a fellow villager who runs a pharmacy in the next county. She has a dozen or so mu of medicinal herb fields and needs a reliable person to look after the household. It is very peaceful there. If you are willing, go and help her — you will have food and shelter at least. Your months are still manageable for now, and there will be a suitable physician there to discuss your options with you, and to consider what you wish to do about the child. But that is a matter for later. If you are willing, Second Young Miss, get in the carriage.”

Caijian had spent her entire life being accustomed to having other people make decisions for her. Now that neither her father nor her mother could be relied upon, hearing Nanny Tian’s words, she did not pause to weigh the advantages and disadvantages — she simply felt the enormous relief of a burden lifting from her shoulders.

She was not a particularly clever girl. Her one genuine skill was needlework and other work done with her hands. As for everything else — she would settle in and deal with it when she got there.

And in time, when she received the damages from the Ding family, she would at least be able to buy herself a house and some land in the countryside. The Ding family had squeezed plenty of profit out of the Su household over the years — they could afford to pay it.

So Caijian wiped her eyes, called to Mingchan and Xique, and got into the carriage without hesitation. Nanny Tian had not expected her to agree so readily.

If this had been a trafficker, she thought, they could have stolen this brainless girl away with the greatest of ease. She shook her head and sighed, then told the driver to set off, and the carriage departed.

By the time Su Hongmeng came to his senses and prepared to have Su Caijian sent to a nunnery, he discovered she had not returned to the rented house at all. She had taken her two maidservants and vanished, destination unknown.

If the domestic affairs of ordinary households were already difficult to sort out, the affairs of the imperial family were infinitely more so.

Because of her experience in the palace some days before, Su Luoyun had been keeping a close watch on the shifts in the winds coming from within those walls.

Han Linfeng also reported that His Majesty had been suffering unremitting nightmares of late, his spirits visibly depleted. The imperial physicians could offer no assurance that he would recover.

And the struggle for succession between the Sixth Prince and the Ninth Prince had clearly entered its most heated phase.

If even the Empress had entered the fray in person, more drastic actions would inevitably follow.

When the gods battle, it is the lesser spirits who suffer.

Even someone as peripheral as Su Luoyun — a minor presence drifting through the capital — had nearly been swept up in a charge of conspiring against the imperial line. It was plain that the capital had become a crumbling wall beneath which it was very difficult to keep oneself safe.

The Empress maintained her firm grip on her position because she commanded prestige at court and held real power within the palace.

As for the Imperial Noble Consort Qiong — driven to desperate measures by one setback after another — who could say how the contest between the Heng Prince and the Rui Prince would ultimately resolve?

As for the Sixth Prince, he had recently resumed a position of ascendancy. The execution of the Imperial Noble Consort Qiong’s elder brother for fleeing the battlefield had dealt a genuine blow to her faction.

A great deal of military authority had now been returned to the Sixth Prince’s sphere of control.

His Majesty might privately favor the Ninth Prince, but with border conflicts flaring constantly, this was no moment to provoke the Changxi Wang family. And so the Sixth Prince’s previously precarious standing had become considerably more stable.

In these recent days, he had been meeting with officials at the Ministry of War to discuss the provisioning of grain supplies for the front lines and the selection of additional generals to garrison the various strategic positions.

It was during these deliberations that a confidential report arrived from one of his trusted agents.

His advisor reviewed it and conferred with him: “Reports from the front indicate that the rebel forces have begun massing and moving toward Jiayong Prefecture. Their momentum is currently too strong for a direct engagement — if it came to a head-on clash, our primary forces would likely suffer significant losses. General Wang Yun’s view is to use Jiayong Prefecture as the line of defense, and to use the natural barrier of the Tuan River rapids to cut the rebel forces off temporarily. However — General Wang Yun currently commands both Jing Prefecture and Jiayong Prefecture as key strongholds. Jiayong Prefecture is almost certainly going to fall, and if it falls from General Wang Yun’s hands, the Imperial Noble Consort Qiong’s faction will use it to make a great deal of trouble.”

The Sixth Prince understood the situation clearly. The rebel commander Qiu Zhen had been sweeping through one fortified position after another without pause, like a knife through silk.

If Wang Yun were to face him directly in these circumstances, Wang Yun could still win — but his forces would suffer enormous losses. The Wang family’s footing at court rested on the foundation of their military strength. If Jiayong Prefecture fell, it would be far more strategic to divert forces from elsewhere to absorb the brunt of the engagement. Wang Yun could then avoid the direct collision with the rebel forces, wait for both sides to exhaust themselves, and then strike as the third party to reap the gains — recovering the lost territory while suffering minimal losses himself, and in doing so consolidate his position as the dominant power.

In short: Wang Yun had no desire to squander the military assets he had built up over decades. To take heavy losses against the rebel forces would be to sacrifice the greater for the lesser, and throw the Wang family’s position at court into disarray. The prudent course was to cede Jiayong Prefecture, fall back on Jing Prefecture using the natural terrain as a shield, and hold with ten times the efficiency while conserving his forces.

But to abandon Jiayong Prefecture required a proper pretext. Without one, it would hand those with ulterior motives a target to aim at in the court debates.

As these thoughts circulated, the advisor murmured: “The provisioning of military grain has been extremely pressed of late. Why not find a scapegoat? As long as the grain supply fails to arrive, General Wang Yun will have no choice but to sacrifice a pawn to preserve the king. When the time comes, the grain transport officer can be offered up to the altar, and that will serve as justification enough.”

The Sixth Prince found this plan sound. But who should be made to play the unlucky scapegoat?

As his mind turned the question over, a particular person suddenly came to mind.

This person had never appeared to pose any genuine threat, and yet on those nights when the Sixth Prince could not sleep, he occasionally found himself giving this figure more thought than he deserved.

An opportunity this perfect — sending him seemed more than suitable. A good-for-nothing like that making a mess of the assignment would be entirely natural, and would provide a perfectly reasonable explanation for the fall of Jiayong Prefecture.

And even if the man managed to perform his duties adequately — on a chaotic front line, dying in battle by some accident was the most unremarkable thing in the world.

Moreover, Jiayong Prefecture’s grain stores happened to be located near Liangzhou. Assigning someone connected to that region seemed entirely logical, beyond reproach.

With that thought, the Sixth Prince allowed himself a cold, faint smile, and added one more name to the list of grain transport officers — Han Linfeng.

Of course, in order to make it look more legitimate for this good-for-nothing to go into the field — and more importantly, to give Wang Yun a basis later for deflecting blame when the front position faltered — the Sixth Prince had also taken pains to add a cohort of Han Linfeng’s dissolute companions to the list as well, to give the appearance of fairness.

He also used the selections for garrison commanders to quietly insert several men of his own whom he wished to promote.

Wartime was an exceptional opportunity for those who wished to hold real military power, and the Sixth Prince was not about to let it pass him by.

Conveniently, His Majesty had recently lamented that there was a shortage of capable young talent in the court. Using this assignment to give the young men of the imperial clan some practical experience — who could possibly find fault with that?

When the list of names was posted by the Ministry of Personnel, those who owed their advancement to the Sixth Prince were naturally grateful. But the threshold of the ministry was nearly flattened by the friends and family members of the various idle scions of noble households who had been included.

Every variety of excuse for why one could not serve was brought forward. Tuberculosis, a recurring leg injury, and one young man of twenty who claimed to have only just recovered from chickenpox.

These young men of leisure all understood that provisioning the rear supply lines was a thankless and hazardous occupation. There was no need to charge into battle — but if provisions were poorly organized, if grain was lost in transit, or if delivery arrived late, those responsible could lose their heads. They were perfectly comfortable in the capital and had no desire to invite misery upon themselves.

The Sixth Prince grew thoroughly irritated by the stream of visitors and rejected every appeal, issuing a blunt standing order: as long as you are still drawing breath, you will report for duty.

Han Linfeng, however, received his assignment letter and found it entirely satisfactory.

He came home early that day, and with time to spare, he spent it as he customarily did these days: sitting with Su Luoyun while he massaged the acupressure points on the soles of her feet with medicated oil, chatting with her as he worked.

This had been prescribed by the physician attending to Su Luoyun’s condition. The soles of the feet connect to a hundred meridian points, and regular massage was said to be greatly beneficial to her eye ailment.

The difficulty was that Su Luoyun’s feet were extremely ticklish, and she refused to let Xiangcao or the others do it. Han Linfeng had therefore taken the task upon himself.

He would grip her pair of jade-smooth feet firmly in his large hands, and when he pulled them back toward himself, she could not escape no matter how she tried.

To distract her attention and get her to endure it, he spoke as he worked: “I had originally been planning to have my father the Prince write a memorial to His Majesty — saying that he had not been well lately, that he missed his eldest son greatly, and pleading for His Majesty’s gracious permission for me to return to Liangzhou earlier than expected. As it turns out, that will not be necessary. I have been assigned to transport grain to Jiayong Prefecture, and the grain stores being drawn on are located near Liangzhou. I can manage both at once. What I mean to say is — this is a good opportunity. I would like to take you and Han Yao back to Liangzhou, away from this city of trouble. Are you willing?”

In truth, the question of going to Liangzhou had been a subject of discussion between Su Luoyun and Han Linfeng even before their marriage.

By her earlier understanding, the day Han Linfeng returned to Liangzhou would be the day they went their separate ways and formalized a divorce.

But the days of marriage had been nothing like the cool and courteous arrangement she had imagined.

This man of such deep reserve had, step by step, drawn her in and made her entirely his.

Now, having already been with Han Linfeng in every sense, suddenly sitting down to soberly discuss separation — Su Luoyun found she could not quite bring herself to open that door.

Her rational side told her that Liangzhou held too many unknowns.

From the way Nanny Xi had treated her, she could already read something of what the Princess of Northern Garrison thought of this common-born daughter-in-law of hers.

Su Luoyun knew that if she went to Liangzhou, she would most certainly encounter complications that could not easily be put into words.

Setting aside the question of divorce for now, she could easily excuse herself on the grounds that she would not be suited to Liangzhou’s climate and conditions. Or she could take Han Linfeng’s earlier suggestion — let him find a prosperous city somewhere to establish a household and leave her there to live quietly while he went on his grain assignment.

In short, if she did not want to go to Liangzhou, she could find any number of reasons. And knowing Han Linfeng as she did, if she were unwilling, he would not force her.

As Su Luoyun sat with her head bowed, biting her lip in silence, Han Linfeng quietly watched the conflicted lines of her profile.

He knew her careful, cautious nature all too well. The words she had once exchanged with her former betrothed, Lu Shi, in that teahouse — he still remembered them clearly.

She would never go blindly ahead with both eyes closed, simply taking someone’s hand and walking into a building she did not know. And Liangzhou — though it was not like the capital now, riddled with traps and thorns at every turn — was not exactly a comfortable place for Su Luoyun either.

He had already prepared himself for her refusal. Of course, he also was not going to let her think she could escape entirely. When the time came, he would cite her difficulty adjusting to the local conditions, and settle her in Huicheng — a city not too far from Liangzhou.

Huicheng was more lively than Liangzhou, and it was the closest place where he could comfortably set Su Luoyun up. He could make the journey back and forth between the two and look in on her from time to time.

“All right.”

Just as Han Linfeng was working out these plans in his mind, Su Luoyun’s soft voice broke through.

Han Linfeng startled. Seeing how cleanly she said it, he assumed she had not thought through all the difficulties, and began to offer a reminder: “In truth, leaving the capital with me does not necessarily mean going to Liangzhou itself. Huicheng, which is not far from Liangzhou, is a prosperous city. I can establish a household there for you.”

Su Luoyun interrupted him. “The grain you will be transporting is being drawn from Liangzhou — which means you will be moving back and forth between Liangzhou and Jiayong Prefecture. Is that right?”

Han Linfeng said softly: “That is right.”

Su Luoyun considered, then said: “When you used to read the local gazetteers to me, I remember hearing that Huizhou is a two-day hard ride from Liangzhou at minimum, and even further from the grain route you will be overseeing. You will be busy with official duties. On the rare occasions when you do manage to come back, if you want to see me, you will waste half of that precious time on horseback. And riding back and forth on difficult roads, in rain or snow — if anything were to happen to you on the way, would I not be left worrying about you again?”

Since she had already married him, and since there was no immediate intention of divorce — naturally, where Han Linfeng was, she would be as well.

She spoke of it lightly, as though it were only obvious. But Han Linfeng knew this cautious little creature of his far too well.

That one light “all right” of hers — how much resolve had gone into it.

A warmth spread through Han Linfeng’s chest that could not quite be put into words — something like the rush of emotion he had felt when, barely escaped with his life, he had come through the gatehouse of the residence and found her waiting for him there.

He reached out and pulled her close, holding her firmly, and said with the same quiet deliberateness: “All right. Where I am — you will be too.”

Having said it, he couldn’t help pressing his face into the smooth fragrant length of her hair, and said softly: “Do you miss me?”

Su Luoyun was not the sort of person who could speak her feelings directly, and she had no hope of matching the honeyed turns of phrase that Han Linfeng had refined during his years frequenting the entertainment quarters. Pressed hard enough by his question, she ended up saying what was actually in her mind, utterly without artifice: “A little, I suppose. Now that the weather has turned cold, I have come to appreciate the value of having a man in the bed. More useful than the cats, as it happens — much warmer.”

What she had meant was only that she found the cold hard to bear, and that sleeping beside someone was warmer than sleeping alone. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, she realized they sounded outrageously improper.

The Shizi decided that if he did not respond to this, he was not a man.

He laughed and scooped her up in his arms, his brows arching expressively. “Better than a cat? Only by a little? Perhaps you need to conduct a more thorough comparison.”

And with that, he carried her into the inner chamber.

Even blind as she was, Su Luoyun could tell it was still broad daylight. Even a properly married couple could not behave in such a shameless manner in the middle of the afternoon!

She pounded at Han Linfeng, demanding to be put down — but Han Linfeng was laughing with great abandon as he carried her inside.

In the past, Su Luoyun had always asked Han Linfeng to blow out the lamp before she would allow him anywhere near her.

But this was daytime. He would be able to see everything.

The thought struck her and she grabbed at her collar, absolutely refusing to yield. But Han Linfeng was still laughing as he said: “How do you know I blew out the candles on those other nights?”

Su Luoyun heard this and her cheeks blazed into a brilliant peach-blossom crimson. She was already raising a foot to kick him: “Han Linfeng! You are absolutely insufferable!”

The sounds of thunderous scolding from within the chamber rang out steadily — but the one being scolded was laughing with the greatest delight.

Since the military grain was being drawn from Liangzhou, Han Linfeng could conveniently return there first to settle his family members before proceeding with the grain transport.

As for the matter of Han Yao’s betrothal to the Jun Duchy household — though the engagement had not been formally dissolved, the Jun Duchy’s household showed no inclination whatsoever to proceed toward marriage.

Han Yao had no desire to remain in the capital waiting indefinitely for the Jun Duchy’s people to condescend to name a wedding date. And so, against the wishes expressed in her mother’s letters from home, she chose to return to Liangzhou along with her brother and sister-in-law.

In the carriage on the way back, Han Yao was already negotiating with her sister-in-law: “When we get back to Liangzhou, if Mother asks, I will simply say I never received the letters. Sister-in-law, you absolutely must not let it slip!”

Su Luoyun had only just had her acupuncture needles removed and her meridians were still unsettled. She had not quite managed to respond.

But listening to the edge of anxiety in her young sister-in-law’s voice, it was plain that Han Yao had considerable fear of the Princess of Northern Garrison.

So once her internal energy had steadied, Su Luoyun asked with a gentle smile: “If the Princess discovers you disobeyed her, what sort of punishment can you expect?”

Han Yao thought of her mother’s severity, and let out a long sigh: “She would lecture me until I wanted to disappear into the floor. Mother has always been determined to see me married into the capital. On this subject, she has never permitted anyone to argue back — not even Father the Prince.”

Xiangcao, standing to one side, had her neck shrinking down into her shoulders just hearing this.

Her own mistress was making her very first visit to her in-laws after all this time married. If the Princess were a warm and gentle person, all would be well — but from what the young commandery princess was describing, “warm and gentle” seemed very far removed indeed from the Princess of Northern Garrison.

Su Luoyun, however, was relatively composed about it. She had already been able to read something of the Princess’s temperament from her dealings with Nanny Xi.

There was no point in going into it at length. Su Luoyun’s birth origins and her blindness alone were original sins enough.

Given that, there was no real point in fretting over how to ingratiate herself with her mother-in-law. When the time came, she would simply read the situation and handle things as they arose.

The worst that could happen was that she would be sent packing. She ran her fingers over the pillow in which she had hidden her gold ingots and banknotes, and reflected that even if she were truly driven out of the Prince’s household, she would hardly starve. The thought settled her considerably.

When they set out through the city gates, great crowds had gathered to see people off — it seemed they would have no shortage of fellow travelers from the capital for stretches of the road.

Once they had passed beyond the city, Su Luoyun felt for the first time the stark contrast her uncle had spoken of — the glittering extravagance of the capital on one side, and on the other, the destitute and starving common people of the countryside.

They had been traveling for more than ten days, and even on the official roads, they regularly encountered groups of refugees begging as they moved along, clustering around the carriages as they passed.

Each evening before sunset — sometimes even at midday — the traveling party had to pull into a relay station and go no further, for fear of being caught without shelter and left to spend the night in the open countryside.

The relay station officer told them that times were unsafe of late. Besides the wandering refugees begging everywhere, there were also mountain bandits preying on travelers. Only recently, a county magistrate’s deputy and his entire family had been traveling to their posting in Yushan, refusing to take the warning and pressing on past the relay station, and the bodies of the whole family — young and old alike — had been found in a ditch by the roadside, all their silver and valuables stripped clean.

Had Han Linfeng been traveling with only his guard escort, he would not have given such warnings a second thought.

But this time he had women with him — both his wife and his sister were not to come to any harm.

So he was very cooperative about it, stopping well before nightfall each day and never pushing ahead to make up time.

Before long, several more carriages came hurrying to catch up, with someone calling from inside: “Is that the Shizi up ahead? Wait for us!”

Han Linfeng looked back and saw it was Guo Yan and Lu Kang, a pair of wine-and-meat companions.

The Sixth Prince’s intentions this time were unclear, but those he had dispatched for the grain supply route were, without exception, the very finest specimens of useless talent the capital’s entertainment quarters had to offer.

Guo Yan and Lu Kang had tried every manner of excuse, but even such spectacularly idle scions had not escaped this draft.

Their assignments were considerably lighter than Han Linfeng’s — they were only responsible for monitoring and tallying the grain count, and would not need to remain at Jiayong Prefecture. They were essentially two layabouts who could pick up a smattering of military merit and then return to the capital when it was over.

Both men’s actual families were in the capital — but they had brought along two or three “campaign wives” of the unofficial sort, the women dressed in gaudy finery, the kind who could not be brought through the front gates of a proper household in the city.

Having been out here on the road for a few days, the two gentlemen had suddenly discovered the pleasures of freedom. An opportunity like this — traveling on official business while eating and drinking and enjoying themselves — was not one that came along often. It was certainly to be savored.

And so, despite having set out earlier than Han Linfeng, they had gradually fallen behind his party, and happened to encounter them on the official road.

Though Han Linfeng had become somewhat elusive since his marriage, they greeted his carriage warmly all the same when they spotted it.

When the carriages drew alongside, Guo Yan and Lu Kang discovered that Han Linfeng was not riding in the carriage at all but traveling on horseback — alone on a fine horse, a ring-pommeled saber hanging at his waist, hair simply bound, dressed in black military attire, leather-soled black boots, the tall man sitting straight-backed in the saddle.

The overall impression he gave was one of quiet, controlled menace — nothing at all like the carelessly dissolute figure he presented in the capital.

Guo Yan felt the man was overdoing the performance, and grinned as he reached over to grab at the saber: “Eh, we haven’t even reached the Qianxi encampment yet and you’re already in costume?”

Han Linfeng said nothing. He simply pressed his hand to the hilt and flicked Guo Yan’s hand away with a sharp snap.

Given that these men had once harassed his wife, the fact that he had not drawn the blade and split them in two was already the height of courtesy.

At this point Lu Kang also sidled over, and happened to catch sight of Su Luoyun inside the carriage. He blinked in surprise, then grinned: “Good heavens, you actually brought your wife along? Though your wife is beautiful — now that you’ve finally gotten out of the city, shouldn’t a man sample a little variety? Oh, and I hear there is a lake not far from here with spectacular scenery. Shall we all go for a jaunt together?”

The two of them broke into loud laughter.

Han Linfeng, however, could not be bothered to maintain any social niceties with them at this point. He said simply and flatly: “My official duties are pressing. I intend to make good time. I will not be keeping you company.”

Just then, someone else came riding back toward them from up ahead. It turned out that among those who had set out with these two impeccable specimens of idleness was Zhao Guibei, son of General Zhao Dong.

The Sixth Prince had, after all, conscripted so many of the gilded youth from noble families that he had inevitably caused some offense, and it was only fitting that he include some of his own close relatives in the draft as well. He had therefore appointed his elder sister’s stepson to go and gain some practical experience at the forward camp.

Zhao Guibei had nothing in common with the other two and could not have gotten along with them less. He was here at the commission of both households, serving as an escort of sorts.

But compared to those two, Zhao Guibei’s feelings toward Han Linfeng were far more hostile.

Under the influence of his father Zhao Dong’s opinions, Zhao Guibei had a deep loathing for Han Linfeng’s conduct — specifically for the incident in which he had ambushed a young woman on a mountain road.

Hearing Han Linfeng now speak with perfect composure about the urgency of his official duties, Zhao Guibei could not help saying coldly: “If you knew your military duties were pressing, why bring family members along? By my reading, the Shizi is treating this military commission as a pleasure excursion — very comfortable indeed.”

Translator’s Notes — Yun Bin Tian Shang – Chapter 65

This is a transitional Yun Bin Tian Shang – Chapter of considerable range, encompassing the resolution of the Caijian subplot, a major political revelation, and the opening of what will clearly be a new narrative arc set beyond the capital.

The Yun Bin Tian Shang – Chapter opens by restoring Caijian’s interiority — her nightmares, her repeated readings of the petition, the final moment of decision triggered by the sound of Ding Gucai’s voice. The magistrate’s proceeding is rendered with brisk economy: the facts already established, the outcome unsurprising, but Ding Shi’s courtroom betrayal landing with full weight regardless. Nanny Tian’s practical arrangement for Caijian — the rural pharmacy, the physician, the options left open — completes Su Luoyun’s approach: she provides a path, not a rescue, and leaves the walking to Caijian. That Caijian boards the carriage without hesitation is, in context, a small but meaningful act of autonomous choice.

The Sixth Prince’s scheming is rendered with cold precision. His use of Han Linfeng as a sacrificial pawn — chosen precisely because he appears harmless and would make a plausible scapegoat whether he fails or dies — is the chapter’s central political turn. The broader strategic picture (Wang Yun’s deliberate abandonment of Jiayong Prefecture; the Sixth Prince’s exploitation of wartime conditions to insert his own men into military positions) is sketched efficiently and without over-explanation.

The scene in which Su Luoyun agrees to go to Liangzhou is among the novel’s finest emotional moments. Its power lies in the contrast between what Han Linfeng had already planned (Huicheng, the compromise, the concession he had prepared to make) and what actually happens (her quiet “all right,” followed by her entirely practical objection to Huicheng on the grounds that it would require him to ride two days to see her). She does not frame her decision in emotional terms at any point. The logic she offers — that she does not want him to waste half his rare visits on horseback, or for her to worry when weather makes the road dangerous — is the closest she comes to saying what the decision actually cost her. Han Linfeng understands this completely. His response (“where I am, you will be too”) is given with the same deliberateness she used.

The subsequent comedy — the “warmer than a cat” line and its consequences — provides tonal release after an emotionally weighted scene, and is characteristic of the novel’s manner: intimacy rendered through deflection and comedy rather than direct statement.

The Yun Bin Tian Shang – Chapter closes with the road party assembling: Guo Yan and Lu Kang with their unofficial companions, Zhao Guibei with his barely concealed hostility toward Han Linfeng. The image of Han Linfeng in black military attire — straight-backed on horseback, ring-pommeled saber at his waist — functions as a deliberate visual transition, marking the shift from the capital’s social world into something considerably more serious.

Key translation decisions: 峻国公府 rendered as “Jun Duchy household” for consistency with aristocratic title conventions; 阵前夫人 (literally “campaign wives,” a colloquial term for unofficial female companions brought along on military postings) rendered as “campaign wives of the unofficial sort” to preserve the register; 卧龙凤雏 (literally “crouching dragon and young phoenix,” from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms — used ironically to describe talented but currently underused individuals; here deployed sardonically to mean the opposite, i.e. useless scions with inflated reputations) rendered as “finest specimens of useless talent” and “impeccable specimens of idleness” in context; 环首刀 (a ring-pommeled single-edged saber) rendered as “ring-pommeled saber.”