What these Tiefu men had not anticipated was that their targets had identified the warning signs before even setting foot inside the station, and had turned the tables on them without a moment’s hesitation.

Han Linfeng now understood perfectly the purpose behind the Sixth Prince’s grand mobilization — dispatching an entire cohort of capital wastrels to Jiayong Prefecture.

But having glimpsed this secret, he could not afford to let the Sixth Prince’s faction realize he knew.

With this in mind, he asked Qing Yang beside him for a fire-starter, then took the forged seal the Tiefu had made along with the sealing wax, and carefully resealed the genuine letter.

Then, without drawing any notice, he placed the genuine letter back on the table and tucked the forged one into his lapel.

During the earlier fighting, Zhao Guibei had taken a slice across the arm while shielding Han Yao. Han Yao felt terribly guilty and fetched the small medicine kit from the carriage, intending to dress the wound herself.

But then, mindful of the impropriety between men and women who were not intimately acquainted, she checked herself, and handed the medicine to Zhao Guibei’s attendant to bandage it instead.

Seeing that Zhao Guibei’s attention was not directed his way, Han Linfeng beckoned over the still-shaken station chief.

He brought the man into the adjacent room and spoke with him carefully: “Now that the relay station has been seized and raided, surely you understand what charges you would face if this were reported as it happened?”

The station chief’s shoulders drooped, his expression shrinking.

Every relay station was a transit point for military dispatches. To have it overrun and occupied in this manner was a dereliction he could not escape — exile and banishment would likely be the lightest punishment.

Han Linfeng read the man’s thoughts from his expression and calmly offered him a way out: “A man bound and stuffed in a root cellar by thieves cannot escape the death penalty. But a man who fought the bandits to his last breath, leaving only two survivors from a battle of desperate courage — that is a matter worth commending…”

The station chief’s eyes brightened at once, and he looked to Han Shizi involuntarily.

Han Linfeng continued in an easy tone: “As you can see, I am traveling with female members of my household — my younger sister has not yet married. If word were to spread that they were caught up in a bandit attack here, it would damage their reputations. I might as well do you a favor: let us say that we arrived afterward and found you and your men in the midst of a fight to the death, arriving just in time to help drive the attackers off. You can arrange the scene accordingly, then call for reinforcements from the nearest prefecture and report the bandits’ bodies to your superiors. Tell them your men were valiant, that you fought them to mutual exhaustion — just make the account add up.”

The station chief had never in his wildest imaginings expected this Shizi to be so considerate. His own parents had never treated him this well.

Plunged into despair one moment and thrown this extraordinary reprieve the next, the station chief was overcome with joy. He agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

Han Linfeng then burned the Tiefu’s forged letter in front of the station chief’s eyes, instructing him to see the genuine letter forwarded to Jiayong Prefecture. The station’s classified correspondence would remain uncompromised, and peace would be preserved.

Having settled everything with the station chief, Han Linfeng recognized there was still one gap that needed filling, and so he called Zhao Guibei over.

This young man’s character was cast from the same mold as his father’s — sometimes stubbornly single-minded — and getting him to keep his mouth shut would require some finesse.

Sure enough, when Han Linfeng mentioned possible harm to the reputations of his wife and younger sister, Zhao Guibei’s expression tightened, clearly troubled by the impropriety of the situation.

“These people occupied this place — there must be something classified going on. We ought to report it and conduct a proper interrogation…”

“While you were having your wound bandaged, Qing Yang already interrogated them. They are also deserters from the Tiefu forces, drifting through this area with the aim of seizing a relay station and robbing passing travelers. They have already been dealt with — why drag the station chief into ruin along with them…”

At this, Han Linfeng sighed: “That station chief is a pitiable man too. His own brother-in-law worked here — the Tiefu cut him down where he stood. If this is reported truthfully, the station chief will likely not survive it either, and the poor household will be left with a house full of widows. Leaving him some military credit to protect his life costs us nothing more than a moment’s effort. Surely the young general is not so attached to the military merit of repelling a Tiefu incursion that he cannot spare it?”

Zhao Guibei was no credit-hungry schemer. Hearing this, and then seeing the station chief hovering behind Han Linfeng with such a wretched, pitiable air, he found himself cornered on a pedestal he could not climb down from.

Han Linfeng spoke without haste, yet his ability to lead a person step by step into a position of his choosing was exceptionally accomplished.

He had also read Zhao Guibei correctly — inexperienced in the ways of the world, straightforward of heart — and applied just the right measure of provocation to make the young man nod along and convince himself he was simply saving a life.

And so the station chief wept and sniffled, knocked his head to the ground in a kowtow of gratitude to the two benefactors, then immediately sent word to the forward camp at full speed, reporting that he and his men had fought to the death against Tiefu scouts and driven them off with the assistance of Han Shizi’s guards.

As for the remaining survivors left bound — the moment Zhao Guibei stepped indoors to drink some water, Han Linfeng caught Qing Yang’s eye.

Qing Yang understood at once. He feigned loosening the ropes, and the moment the captives made to rise and flee, shouted out immediately: “Alert — the prisoners are escaping!”

Before the words had even faded, the remaining survivors were dispatched where they stood, each with a single stroke.

By the time Zhao Guibei came rushing back out, every last one of the Tiefu fighters was dead. He looked at Han Linfeng with suspicion: “How is it that not a single one was left alive?”

Han Linfeng raised his eyes unhurriedly and turned to Qing Yang: “The young general is asking you a question. Why were there no survivors?”

Qing Yang did not have his Shizi’s gift for theater. He scratched his head, found himself short of words, and ended up flicking the back of his blade with a finger and saying bluntly: “The… the knife was freshly sharpened last night. Too damn sharp. I misjudged the force…”

Zhao Guibei stared at him flatly. Though he was guileless, he was no fool — he had the persistent feeling that something here was not quite as it seemed. But just what, exactly, he could not put his finger on.

He scratched his head and let the matter rest.

There was one thing, however, that could not be overlooked: this time, at the relay station, Han Linfeng had actually entered the fighting himself.

Those fluid, efficient movements — not a step behind Qing Yang or any of the others. Was this really the same dissolute young man who spent his days in the pleasure quarters of the capital and begged passers-by on the street for wine money?

The question that had been circling in his mind these past few days finally had its answer — this Han Linfeng was a man of immense hidden depths.

Why had he chosen to spend his days in the capital sunk in lethargy and absurdity?

After they left the relay station, during a moment when Zhao Guibei had gone ahead to fetch water, Su Luoyun sat in the carriage and listened as Han Linfeng quietly related the full story of the genuine and forged letters. Her heart tightened.

The Beizhen Wang Manor had become a soft persimmon in everyone’s eyes — there was always someone looking to plant a foot in it.

So this was where the Shizi’s inexplicable posting had come from.

She asked softly: “What will you do? Why did you not keep the letter? Once the Sixth Prince’s letter reaches Wang Yun’s hands, won’t you be meat on the chopping block?”

Han Linfeng replied: “This letter cannot be stopped. But now that I know their scheme, I naturally have no intention of being passive. They want me to fail in delivering the grain to Jiayong Prefecture — so I must work all the harder. I will see that enough food reaches Wang Yun that he has no excuse to lose.”

He spoke lightly, as though describing nothing more than a minor errand. But those few sentences, put into practice, would require surmounting obstacles and difficulties impossible to fully anticipate.

Su Luoyun slowly rested her head against his chest. The wheels rolled steadily onward, and Liangzhou drew closer with each passing moment. In her heart, Luoyun knew they were drawing ever nearer to the eye of the storm as well.

Two more days of travel, and they finally arrived within the borders of Liangzhou. Zhao Guibei was bound for the Qianbei Grand Camp, and so it was here that they parted. He bid Han Linfeng farewell with some reluctance, waving as he rode off, and said plainly that whenever he had a free moment, he intended to visit the Qianxi Grain Supply Camp and spar with Han Linfeng.

Seeing him about to leave, Han Yao quickly held out her medicine kit: “Young Master Zhao, take this with you. I’ll have everything I need once I’m home — it’s no use to me!”

Zhao Guibei did not hesitate. He accepted it immediately, then reached into the bag hanging from his saddle and held it out to Han Yao: “This is the candied fruit and sesame rice balls my mother packed for me. I’m not a child — I don’t care for these sorts of things. Take them.”

Han Yao felt that this exchange of gifts was not entirely proper, and deliberately straightened her expression: “I am not a child either. Keep them yourself.”

Zhao Guibei urged his horse forward, and with one sweep of his arm tossed the snack bag into the carriage: “I already said they’re yours — what’s with all the fuss?”

With that, he grinned, cracked his whip, and rode off at a gallop.

Han Yao had nearly been hit in the head by the flying bag of snacks and was glaring at Zhao Guibei’s retreating figure with mild indignation.

He was not much like most of the young men of the capital — he carried a certain rugged, rough-edged energy about him. Compared to her own slender-built fiancé, he seemed rather too robust.

Han Yao turned away and made herself think critically: what gentleman of wealth and standing goes around looking quite so sturdy…

The carriage had already moved on into Liangzhou. Su Luoyun leaned out the window and inhaled the air outside.

Unlike the mild, moist air of the capital, the wind here was noticeably drier and colder, carrying the coarse, dusty smell of the earth and wave after wave of acrid smoke.

She could not quite place it, and Han Yao beside her provided the answer: “Liangzhou has many brick kilns — we’re passing right by the furnaces.”

Su Luoyun nodded, listening to the folk chants drifting over from the distance with their Liangzhou lilt, and found herself thinking of all that Han Linfeng had told her about the customs and character of this place.

The people here were simple and honest — or, put more plainly, quite poor. The land was infertile, the crop yields were low, and most families supplemented their income by using the local clay to fire and sell bricks.

The Emperor Xuandi of Wei had truly chosen a godforsaken patch of land to settle on the descendants of the cousin to whom he had passed the throne.

As the carriage entered the city, the sound of children chasing and playing in its wake could clearly be heard.

This was something unimaginable in the capital. Every child there knew to step aside for the carriages of official households.

Liangzhou was clearly a remote and sparsely traveled place — large processions of carriages and horses were an unusual sight, and so the local children came running after them in a crowd.

Han Yao took it entirely in stride. She grabbed a large handful from Zhao Guibei’s snack bag and flung it out the window. The children laughed and scrambled to pick up the treats, and at last stopped chasing the carriage.

Han Yao casually took one of the rice balls for herself, peeled back the yellow wax paper wrapping, and bit into it. Mm — actually quite good.

The carriage finally arrived at the Beizhen Wang Manor. Xiangcao looked the gate over with curious eyes and was immediately disappointed. This was the gate of a royal manor? Truly?

Taking advantage of a moment when the young princess was not looking her way, she murmured to Luoyun: “This manor… doesn’t have the presence of even a seventh-rank magistrate’s residence in the capital…”

Luoyun said to Xiangcao: “No commentary.”

Xiangcao stuck out her tongue and did not dare say another word.

After Han Linfeng dismounted, he came to the carriage and helped Su Luoyun down. Han Yao had already scrambled out ahead of them, eager to go see her father.

As they walked toward the entrance, Han Linfeng gave her hand a quiet squeeze and asked in a low voice: “Are you nervous?”

This would be, after all, her first time meeting her parents-in-law since the wedding. Most women in her position would have some anxiety about it.

But Luoyun only smiled a little, and said nothing. Claiming she was not nervous would have been too obviously untrue. And yet Luoyun’s nature was such that once she had thought a thing through and made up her mind, she would face whatever lay ahead — there was no room in her for stagefright.

Even so, even having prepared herself, she had not expected that the moment she stepped into the main hall, she would hear a cold male voice say: “Worthless wretch — on your knees.”

Han Linfeng at her side came to a stop, raised the hem of his long robe, and knelt. Su Luoyun could only kneel beside him.

This speaker was almost certainly her father-in-law — Prince Beizhen, Han Yi.

Prince Beizhen was evidently well-informed about Han Linfeng’s escapades in the capital. Now that he saw his son had actually brought home a blind woman as his wife, he was filled with cold anger. Ignoring the new bride entirely, he addressed his son in an icy voice: “You spent two years in the capital and learned nothing — except how to be disreputable and unruly without anyone needing to teach you. You have brought nothing but disgrace upon the Beizhen Wang Manor. Someone fetch my horsewhip. I intend to give this unfilial, insubordinate wretch a proper lesson.”

As a father disciplining his son, Su Luoyun as the new bride had no standing to intervene. So she said nothing, and could only listen to the crack of the horsewhip striking flesh somewhere beside her.

She had heard her young sister-in-law speak of Prince Beizhen’s habit of whipping Han Linfeng in the past, but those had been stories from when he was young. She had not imagined that Han Linfeng, arriving home after a long and dusty journey, would be met with a horsewhip the moment he crossed the threshold.

She held herself back, and held herself back again. The sound of the whip was too sharp — too difficult to listen to. Even if the man made no sound, she could well imagine the pain.

She held herself back again and again, and at last could hold back no longer. She spoke up suddenly, her voice clear and carrying: “May I venture to ask — upon what grounds, exactly, does the Lord see fit to administer this beating?”

Prince Beizhen had worked himself into a genuine fury and was holding nothing back with his son, who he well knew could take a beating.

He had not expected that after only a few strokes of the whip, this frail, delicate-looking blind woman at his son’s side would suddenly open her mouth.

His hand paused of its own accord. He said, his face dark: “The manner in which you two came to be married — surely you know full well what it was. Does a father need a reason to beat his own son?”

Luoyun replied with composure: “The Shizi and I were wed by the Emperor’s own decree — a mark of extraordinary imperial favor. Though we could not kneel before the Lord and his Lady at the ceremony, we bowed to Heaven and Earth with full and proper ritual, and observed every propriety without reduction… Is the Lord displeased because he has not yet received the ceremonial tea from his daughter-in-law? If that is so, your daughter-in-law will present it shortly.”

Prince Beizhen had not expected the gap between this blind girl’s outward appearance and her actual boldness to be quite so wide. When he cracked his whip, Han Yao beside him had gone rigid as a frightened quail and drawn her neck in. This young woman who had come from who-knew-where was sitting there with not so much as a change in her expression, invoking the Emperor’s name to check him.

“Your meaning, then, is that since you two were wed by imperial decree, I have no right to beat him? Which of his outrages in the capital, if pulled out and examined, would not merit a beating?”

Luoyun continued: “The Lord is quite right — when a son turns out poorly, it is the father’s failing. You certainly ought to discipline your son. But the Shizi’s wildness is not a matter of one or two days. If the Lord truly intends to manage it, a more patient and gradual approach would be required. Jiayong Prefecture is in imminent danger, and the Shizi has returned carrying a commission from the Ministry of War — he will be heading to the front lines before long to oversee the grain transport. If he bears visible injuries on his body, and word spreads and is misinterpreted, and people come to believe the Lord is displeased with His Majesty’s grant of this marriage — that would be most unfortunate.”

Prince Beizhen narrowed his eyes. This time he was entirely certain: this blind young woman was, in fact, threatening him. And she was threatening him with sound reason and solid footing.

“The Shizi’s wildness is not a matter of one or two days” was a reproach that he had always been deficient in fathering his son — so why perform for an audience now?

Invoking Han Linfeng’s commission from the Ministry of War was a subtle implication that the Shizi was far from as contemptible as he had made him out to be.

And that final line — “come to be misinterpreted” — struck squarely at the one pressure point that governed this father-in-law above all others. The Beizhen Wang Manor’s entire way of surviving was to keep its head down and give no occasion for imperial suspicion.

With that, even Prince Beizhen gave a cold laugh: “Your nerve is something remarkable. Do you think that because you were sent to our Beizhen Wang Manor by the Emperor himself, you may speak with such impudence?”

Luoyun lowered her head in another bow, then said quietly: “The Shizi may be the Lord’s son, but he is also my husband. You are free to discipline both son and daughter-in-law — we are your juniors, and it is right that you guide and correct us. As for me, I naturally feel for my husband. To watch him being beaten and say nothing — would that not make me a woman of stone? This is nothing more than the ordinary principle of things…”

This time, Prince Beizhen was nearly moved to laughter by this new daughter-in-law of his. He looked her up and down once more, fresh eyes.

He had originally assumed his son had simply been bewitched by a beautiful face into marrying this woman.

But looking at her now — those eyes could not see, yet her wits were more than sharp enough, and that tongue of hers seemed to be fitted with iron teeth. She was very nearly drawing blood.

“What a fine ‘ordinary principle of things.’ If I continue beating him, will I not appear to have less sense than you, a young woman?”

By this point the fire in him had been scattered and dispersed by this blind woman’s forceful reasoning.

Luoyun’s beauty worked somewhat in her advantage here.

There were certain impertinent things that, coming from a plain-looking person, might provoke the urge to give them a good thrashing.

But those same things, spoken by a woman as gentle and lovely as this, made any violent reaction feel distinctly unbecoming of a man.

Prince Beizhen had never had much taste for bickering with women. He turned to Han Linfeng: “All right — you have a wife to speak for you now. If I beat you again, I will simply be making myself look foolish.”

With that, Prince Beizhen flung down the whip and returned to his seat, saying to Su Luoyun: “Is that why you have been calling me ‘the Lord’ with every breath — because you have not yet served me the ceremonial tea? Come then — present the tea properly, and then I will have proper standing to discipline you as my daughter-in-law.”

At this moment, the Princess Consort, who had remained entirely silent until now, addressed Prince Beizhen: “The Lord has such a quick temper — whoever greets their son at the door with a beating the moment he arrives? Linfeng has traveled a long, exhausting road to get here. If he falls ill from those stripes, what then? Someone bring medicine for the Shizi.”

Han Linfeng said to his mother: “Please do not trouble yourself, Mother. Father disciplines me out of concern for me — it was only a few strokes of the whip. I am not harmed. I ask that the two of you drink the new bride’s tea, so that we may fulfill the proper rites.”

And so the long-delayed ceremonial tea was at last presented before the Lord and the Princess Consort.

When the Princess Consort took her cup, she could not help studying this eldest daughter-in-law of hers.

This Su Luoyun was indeed strikingly beautiful. Her eyes could not see, yet they held the still depth of autumn water reflecting the moon. Her bearing and manner were equally lovely. A woman of such fair complexion and fine features would have stood out even in the capital. Small wonder Han Linfeng had been utterly captivated.

She had heard a great deal about this new daughter-in-law from Nanny Xi, and very little of it was flattering.

Now that she saw her in person, the young woman was indeed a formidable creature.

Though she had heard that Su Luoyun was a merchant’s daughter, raised from childhood traveling with her father in trade — naturally she would have come up through the rough and tumble of the marketplace and sharpened her tongue on it. Nothing remarkable about that.

The Princess Consort was by nature a woman who minded her own affairs. She had never been particularly attentive in managing Han Linfeng, this son who had been adopted into her care. Provided this new daughter-in-law did not bring trouble to her own doorstep, she could not be bothered to impose the usual rules upon her.

What concerned her more, by comparison, was why her daughter Han Yao had ignored her counsel and come running back to Liangzhou from the capital.

Han Yao, however, had already coordinated her account with her brother and sister-in-law, and clung stubbornly to the story that she had returned before receiving her mother’s letter.

Besides, the Jun Guo Duke’s household had already sent a letter to the Beizhen Wang Manor, stating plainly that the marriage agreement was to be postponed. With them showing no inclination to wed, what was she supposed to do — linger alone in the capital indefinitely? Of course she had come back with her brother and sister-in-law.

The Princess Consort was deeply frustrated, but the reunion banquet had barely ended before she called her daughter to her room for a careful inquiry into precisely what was meant by the Jun Guo Duke’s household’s words.

Han Linfeng, meanwhile, was called alone by his father to the study.

With the door closed, Prince Beizhen Han Yi’s manner was less sharp and blustering than it had been. He simply opened with a cold question: “That blind woman — did you marry her of your own will?”

Han Linfeng poured tea and handed it to his father: “To have gained such a wife — your son is more than content.”

Han Yi frowned. The young woman was admittedly of considerable beauty. Had his son simply been blinded by that?

He said evenly: “Marriage is not a trifle. You have chosen this kind of woman as a wife — have you thought about what mockery and contempt you will face in the years ahead?”

Han Linfeng smiled faintly: “Ordinary people are oblivious to what is fine. If the world could truly see Luoyun’s worth, a woman like her would never have been left for your son.”

Han Yi waved a hand. He did not quite agree with his son’s words, yet he understood this kind of thing — “when love strikes, it goes all the way” — for he had experienced it himself in his younger days.

When a man is drunk on infatuation, he generally does not listen to reason.

Since this foolish marriage had the cover of an imperial decree, it could at least hold its head up in public. As a father, he was too tired to fight it.

For a man moving through the world, women came and went — marrying a wife was not the most essential thing, and the one who lasted a lifetime was often not the one taken first. What concerned Prince Beizhen more was this commission from the Ministry of War, which sounded decidedly dangerous and troubling.

Liangzhou was not close to Jiayong Prefecture, but news traveled between them without too much difficulty, and the situation there was currently hanging by a thread. That Han Linfeng — a man with no record of service whatsoever — should have been assigned there was thoroughly suspicious.

And so Han Linfeng told Prince Beizhen the full story of the forged and genuine letters at the relay station.

By the time he had heard it all, Prince Beizhen’s expression had grown dark. He asked his son: “Since you have already been placed on the board, you have no choice but to play the role of a piece. Do you have any way to break out of the position?”

Han Linfeng replied steadily: “For now, the only path is to meet change with constancy — secure the military provisions first, and proceed step by step from there.”

That day, Han Linfeng and Prince Beizhen remained in private conference in the study for a long time. It was not until the lamps had been lit for the evening that Han Linfeng returned to their own courtyard.

The evening banquet had seen both the Lord and the Princess Consort depart with their daughter, which could not help but feel like something of a cold reception for the new bride.

But Su Luoyun was not the sort of person to be wounded by such things. She would not waste her spirits grieving over them.

She took her maidservants and attendants, and under the guidance of a household servant, settled into what had formerly been the Shizi’s own courtyard.

Then she had Xiangcao support her as she walked a careful circuit around the entire yard — in and out, back and forth — so she could begin to commit the layout to memory as quickly as possible.

She disliked the feeling of needing to be led. Whenever she came to a new place, she always did this — once she had learned the space well enough, she could move about her daily life on her own.

By the time Han Linfeng returned, Su Luoyun had already had the medicinal ointment prepared, along with warm, damp cloths.

With those strokes ringing out as loudly as they had, how could they not have left marks?

When Han Linfeng took off his robe, Su Luoyun ran her hand along his back and felt, as she had expected, a row of raised, angry welts standing high across the skin.

“How could he bring down his hand so hard? And here I thought my father was the most unreasonable…”

In her concern, Luoyun had let her private thoughts slip out entirely by accident.

Han Linfeng could not help laughing: “Was the ceremonial red envelope Father gave you not thick enough? And yet you speak ill of your father-in-law behind his back!”