Su Luoyun realized immediately that she had spoken out of turn. She hastily soaked the cloth in medicinal ointment and pressed it firmly against his back — and Han Linfeng let out an immediate yelp of pain.

He had just been feeling touched by her concern, yet this particular approach to applying medicine made him suspect she was actually trying to do away with him.

But Luoyun would not be played: “Oh, please. You didn’t make a sound when you were being whipped that hard, and now you cry out? Do you think you can take advantage of my soft heart so easily?”

Seeing that she was not going to fall for it, Han Linfeng simply flopped face-down across her lap, stretching out on the bed to make his back easier to tend.

“Father does not know the way you and I came to understand each other. He most likely believes I acted recklessly, and that is the source of his anger.”

Luoyun shook her head and let out a soundless sigh. Even without Han Linfeng telling her, she understood perfectly well — what father, upon seeing his son bring home a blind bride, would feel easy in his heart?

But compared to worrying about her father-in-law, she was more concerned about her future dealings with the Princess Consort. Once the men were out attending to their affairs, it would be only women left at home — and where there was friction between them, trouble would surely follow.

Han Linfeng seemed to have read her thoughts. He turned himself over and stretched out a long arm to stroke her pale, fine-boned face: “Father does not dislike you — if he did, he would not have let me off so lightly in the hall. But in a few days I must go and attend to my duties, and once I leave, it could be ten days or even half a month. Leaving you here alone, I am still somewhat uneasy…”

Luoyun gave a wry smile: “I am not a child. What is there to be uneasy about?”

Han Linfeng was uneasy nonetheless. He said: “Mother has always kept to her own affairs. My younger brother is studying at the Huicheng Academy, and she goes to Huicheng for a few days each month to visit Han Xiao. If there is nothing of consequence, she will probably not bother to trouble you. Father’s temper is like thunder and fire, but for all that he has made a habit of beating his sons, he has never once raised a hand to his daughter — when you provoke him next time, just keep a sense of the limits, and you should be fine. And if you truly are ill-treated, be sure to wait for me to come back — do not go quietly walking out the door with your banknotes and your pillow.”

This Shizi’s wife of his was formidable with money — the amount she had donated to Yan County was extraordinary, yet she had clearly still had all that in reserve.

If she genuinely found herself unable to endure life in Liangzhou, she likely would not need to consult him at all before picking herself up and leaving.

So he had to lay the ground rules clearly in advance — otherwise, by the time he chased after her on horseback, he would have to kick that treasure of a pillow of hers to pieces first.

Luoyun had not entertained any thought of running away, and found it rather remarkable that his imagination had been so thorough and precise in anticipating her. When he got to the part about kicking her precious pillow to pieces, she burst out laughing again.

The faint anxiety she had been feeling about navigating her relationship with her mother-in-law was laughed clean away by his words.

By the time she had gathered herself again, she had already been tucked under the covers. Luoyun called out in a rush: “Wait — I still need to get up and check the candles…”

Han Linfeng had had quite enough of following his pampered wife around the room extinguishing lamps every night, and had no intention of playing the obedient attendant again this evening. He simply laughed and caught her chin between his teeth, then drew her down into the pull of their closeness together.

This girl of his had lately shed the last of her newlywed shyness and grown considerably bolder with him in bed, which only served to make him want more of her.

For a time the bedchamber was filled with warmth and tenderness, and the candlelight at the bedside gradually dimmed, molten wax accumulating in the lamp dish into small mounds of red.

When Han Linfeng had fallen asleep, Su Luoyun — who by rights should also have been sleeping — listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing beside her, and slipped her hand beneath the pillow. From within, she retrieved a sachet filled with medicinal fragrance. She brought it to her nose and inhaled it gently, then tucked it inside her garment, resting it against her abdomen.

This was a private method of contraception — the herbal blend inside compounded by her own hand from an old formula.

Luoyun did not dislike Han Linfeng. If the two of them had been an ordinary rural couple — the husband farming, the wife weaving — life with such a capable man would surely be pleasant and serene, a quietly contented lifetime spent together.

But he was not an ordinary man. His branch of the family occupied an awkward position among the imperial relatives, the whole clan walking a perpetual blade’s edge.

That evening, Prince Beizhen had summoned him to the study, and what passed between father and son was unknown to her. Yet Su Luoyun could feel clearly that this Prince Beizhen, like his son, was not a man who drifted through life in a daze.

The Beizhen Wang Manor lacked for nothing in terms of wealth — yet the face it presented to the world was more modest than a seventh-rank official’s. That deliberate self-effacement spoke of intentions that were difficult to read.

Before, Luoyun would have stepped far around a household as deep-watered as this.

But she had been led and lured by Han Linfeng, step by step, into the heart of the matter — and she found, against her expectations, that she got on remarkably well with him, and had not yet reached any point of genuine incompatibility.

Though Han Linfeng spoke of things lightly, the Lord and Princess Consort’s lack of warmth toward her was plain enough. Whether she would be able to settle peacefully into the Beizhen Wang Manor in the years ahead remained uncertain. Under the circumstances, she could only proceed carefully, feeling out each step as she went.

Adults, one way or another, could be managed. But a child — a child would introduce too many complications and considerations. She knew her own limitations. With her blindness, if things were not stable, she would not be able to care properly for a young child, and would only be bringing a small life into the world to suffer alongside her.

The scent of musk in the sachet was not strong, yet it brought a strange, quiet sense of reassurance.

When it was settled in place, Luoyun lay with eyes open, gazing up at the darkness that was her sky, and silently said to Han Linfeng: I am sorry — for now, I cannot yet give you a child.

Just as Han Linfeng had said, once they were in Liangzhou, the pressing matter of provisioning the army had to be attended to immediately.

Though it was still unclear what further moves the Sixth Prince might make, even the first obstacle in securing the grain supplies had already proved difficult.

In the wake of the raid on the rebel forces under Qiu Zhen — a considerable windfall — Liangzhou’s grain stores were reasonably well-stocked. But for the forward prefectures to hold out over months of sustained fighting, what existed was not quite sufficient. If the front settled into a prolonged war of attrition, the supply officer at the rear would need to make preparations without a single gap.

Only — legitimate sources of grain were not easy to obtain at this juncture.

Fortunately, Han Linfeng and Director Li Guitian had grown considerably closer, and Director Li had told him that the Ministry of Works’ large transport vessels were now completed. When the time came, he would do everything in his power to ensure enough ships were set aside to carry grain to the north, resolving that concern for Han Linfeng.

As for Su Luoyun — during her years in the capital trading in aromatics, she had come to know a good number of merchants in the shipping trade. Through her work organizing the memorial rites in Yan County, she had also become acquainted with a number of grain merchants.

Among those grain merchants, several operated with both a visible and a hidden side to their business — beyond their legitimate grain shops, they maintained a number of channels through which grain moved outside ordinary routes.

Luoyun passed along all of these connections to Han Linfeng, giving him a set of options to draw on as backup and allowing him to plan ahead and leave no gap uncovered.

Only with a guaranteed grain supply would this Superintendent of Transport have anything to superintend.

After all, the Sixth Prince in the capital had already prepared a very neat, very tightly fitted pair of iron shoes for Han Linfeng — just waiting for a failure in the supply line to give him the perfect pretext for shifting all responsibility for Wang Yun’s withdrawal from Jiayong Prefecture.

The position Han Linfeng had assumed was in fact not a small one: he was the Superintendent-General of Grain Transport for the Qianxi military camp, overseeing more than twenty transport officers and three hundred transport soldiers.

The moment Han Linfeng arrived in Liangzhou, the outgoing superintendent held a welcoming banquet in his honor.

The old superintendent clapped the new man on the shoulder and said with evident feeling: “My lord Shizi, your connections in the capital must run very deep indeed — to have secured such a plum posting!”

He was not being sarcastic. He meant it sincerely. In ordinary times, this posting was the sort of coveted position that could not be bought for any price.

When one held authority over the military’s grain supplies, was there any risk of failing to skim some off the top?

Han Linfeng smiled pleasantly: “It is the Sixth Prince’s favor. I carry it with me always.”

They exchanged a few more courtesies of this kind, and then the old superintendent took his leave. Han Linfeng watched the procession of loaded carts carrying away the man’s household belongings, and was silent for a long moment.

So this superintendency truly was a lucrative posting in every sense — at the very least, the previous occupant appeared to have helped himself thoroughly and was departing well-compensated.

Most of the officers in the grain supply camp were stationed there with their families on a permanent basis.

To welcome the new superintendent’s arrival, the men under his command had specially brought in a cook from a Huicheng restaurant, and set up a proper welcoming banquet within the camp.

Having heard that Han Linfeng would be bringing his wife, he also brought Su Luoyun along to the camp for the occasion, to share in the welcoming feast and for everyone to become acquainted.

But even before the two of them arrived, those already in the camp had been laughing amongst themselves.

One of the newly transferred transport officers from the capital had been regaling old acquaintances with the full account of this new superintendent’s background, along with the peculiar circumstances surrounding his marriage to his blind wife.

This sort of delightful gossip had everyone gathered there — officers and family members alike — thoroughly entertained.

Heavens above, what sort of remarkable couple had the court sent them? Especially this Beizhen Shizi — had he really once begged passersby in the street for money to pay for wine? He sounded like a thoroughly hapless and useless fool.

A young man of such noble birth had gone and married a blind woman for a wife — what depth of senselessness must the man himself possess?

The previous superintendent had been skilled at currying favor, and had kept his more cooperative and obedient subordinates on a loose rein. They had all made money together in happy harmony.

Now, with the sudden transfer of their superior and a new superintendent sent down from above, the men were feeling somewhat on edge.

But now that they knew the nature of this new arrival, their hearts relaxed considerably. All they needed to do was be there when he came, say the right flattering things, and everyone would get along without incident.

When Han Linfeng and Su Luoyun entered the camp tent, the subordinates rising to greet them were caught entirely off guard.

Heavens — what remarkable couple had the court sent them?

The man stood tall and upright, his features striking and well-defined. A black military uniform made his straight-backed bearing look even more commanding, and when his gaze settled on anyone, the depth in his eyes made them instinctively want to look away.

The woman standing beside him was graceful in figure and vivid in beauty. Her walk was light and measured, each step as though pressing gently upon a lotus. A fox-fur collar set off the fine, snow-pale complexion of her face. Her eyes in particular drew the eye — dark and luminous, like starlight gathered into still autumn water, her black hair pinned up with a pearl-studded hibiscus ornament that made the whole effect one of refined elegance.

Such a well-matched pair in sight and presence — when they entered together, it struck the room like a single image, leaving everyone briefly speechless, simply drinking in the sight.

It was Chen Qun, a senior transport officer of the Qianxi camp, who recovered first and came forward with a broad smile to receive them.

Chen Qun was an old hand at the Qianxi Grain Supply Camp. Most of the others had assumed the next superintendency would pass to him — and then the capital had sent down this idle young noble out of nowhere.

Chen Qun showed nothing outwardly, but his displeasure ran deep.

The previous superintendent had been the sort to leave all the actual work to others — in practice, every matter in the camp had been handled by Chen Qun.

He had assumed that once he had finished serving out this superior, his promotion would surely follow. And then another useless deadweight had been sent down instead — and a Shizi of the Beizhen Wang Manor at that.

Chen Qun had been entrenched in this place long enough to know exactly what the Beizhen Wang Manor was — a declining household coasting on its imperial pedigree and nothing more. Nothing worth taking seriously.

So his outward manner was respectful, but in his heart he had no regard for this new superior whatsoever.

When they had drunk a few cups and Han Linfeng asked about the supply inventory and the day-to-day logistics of grain transport, Chen Qun smiled and said: “All of it is recorded in the books — no need to rush. You have come a long way and must be tired. Allow me to continue managing affairs in the camp as I always have, and I will help your lordship become familiar with everything at your own pace.”

Luoyun heard this and quietly set down her cup. In her years managing her shops, she had encountered stewards of exactly this type — warm and accommodating on the surface.

But the moment you asked about anything that mattered, it was deflection after deflection, never a straight answer.

People like that were almost always up to something private and dishonest behind the scenes, taking advantage of an inexperienced employer to run their own schemes underneath a veil of apparent helpfulness.

Han Linfeng gave every appearance of not having caught the implication. He smiled and raised his cup toward Chen Qun: “Well then — with Old Chen here, I need not hurry at all. By the way, I am still unfamiliar with the camp — after dinner, could I trouble you to show me around and take a look at the granaries?”

Chen Qun nodded readily and agreed with enthusiasm.

And so, when dinner was done, the party made a round of the grain storage warehouses.

Liangzhou’s land was poor and its grain yields modest, but the climate was at least dry, which made it well-suited for storage. Provisions transported from far-flung regions all had to be warehoused here before being forwarded to the front lines.

Jiayong Prefecture was not far, yet its climate was entirely different — hemmed in by mountains, cold and damp, it could not hold large stores of grain for long. So grain had to be transported there once every month or two.

During the inspection, Han Linfeng continued asking pointed questions at an unhurried pace — for instance, noting that the foundations of several warehouses showed signs of old damage and deterioration that had not been repaired. If rain seeped in, would the grain not go moldy?

But Chen Qun, that practiced old hand, continued to deflect with words that circled everything and committed to nothing.

Had he been a superior who led with an iron fist, he might have rebuked Chen Qun on the spot, establishing his authority with a show of force.

But Han Linfeng seemed to have no understanding whatsoever of how to manage subordinates in official settings. Standing before his own men, with his deputy brushing him off so openly, the Shizi showed not the slightest displeasure — he simply nodded along repeatedly, looking for all the world like a freshly grown vegetable that did not even notice the sheep gnawing away at it.

Chen Qun was entirely reassured: was this all they had sent? It did not matter how many came — none of them would amount to anything.

The rest of the subordinates let out their held breath one by one. A few even grew bold enough to invite Han Linfeng to join a gambling session sometime, proposing a little game for fun when time allowed.

Han Linfeng actually seemed taken with the idea, and could not wait — once they returned to the main camp, he joined his subordinates in shaking dice under their sleeves, playing with every appearance of genuine enthusiasm.

The assembled family members watching this unorthodox welcoming banquet had never seen anything quite like it.

Brows rose all around the tent. Eyes were exchanged — discreetly, then with growing meaning — and more than a few glances turned toward Su Luoyun.

A blind woman was pitiable enough on her own. To have been married to this flippant, unserious man on top of it — truly a sorry lot.

One of the wives leaned close and murmured to Chen Qun’s wife: “I heard he had several of the top courtesans in the capital, and a string of scandalous affairs with various young ladies too. So why on earth would he choose a blind woman for a wife?”

Chen Qun’s wife took advantage of the fact that Su Luoyun could not see, and raised an arch eyebrow. Over the clatter of the dice she lowered her voice: “When you marry someone who can’t see, she can’t keep watch over you. Makes it a good deal easier to carry on as you please.”

This observation drew muffled laughter from the assembled wives.

Luoyun was seated not far from the women’s group. They were clearly taking advantage of the noise in the tent to whisper amongst themselves and mock this blind woman at their leisure.

Unfortunately for them, they did not know that a blind woman’s hearing was as keen as her nose. In her world of perpetual darkness, she could do nothing but attend carefully to sound, reading every shift and change in the environment around her. Every word of those mockeries reached her ears without waste.

She sat quietly, her expression giving nothing away — until one of the wives began whispering again about how a Shizi of all people should have a taste for gambling.

At that, Luoyun suddenly spoke with an expression of mild, affectionate resignation: “Our Shizi has always had this weakness — if he does not gamble to his heart’s content, he cannot eat well or sleep soundly at night… Xiangcao, bring some more silver for the Shizi, in case he runs short and does not enjoy himself properly.”

The assembled women froze. Heavens above — spoken at that volume, how had she heard? Had she also overheard everything they had been saying about her?

In an instant, even without being able to see them, Luoyun could well imagine what their faces looked like — each one gone the mottled yellow and green of autumn cabbages in a field.

The wives were unsettled, but watching Su Luoyun’s perfectly composed and tranquil manner, it seemed as though she might not have heard anything at all.

Their hearts followed the dice in the men’s hands, lurching up and down with every throw.

And then Luoyun had the particular habit of smiling warmly in their direction, over and over, until the wives found themselves smiling back without thinking — forgetting entirely that she could not see them.

In due course, Han Linfeng declared himself satisfied with his game. His men, though they had been close-lipped about work matters all evening, proved lavishly generous at the gambling table, and had collectively lost a considerable sum to their new superior.

Han Linfeng stretched lazily, instructed Qing Yang to collect the winnings, and announced that he would be escorting the Shizi’s wife back to Liangzhou.

When they departed, the city’s lanterns had just begun to come alive. Liangzhou was nothing like the capital — once night fell, the streets grew quiet and cool. But here and there, at street corners and the mouths of alleyways, noodle stalls still burned their fires.

The two of them had spent the evening keeping up appearances at the grain supply camp and had not eaten properly, having well missed the usual dinner hour. Going back to the Wang Manor and asking the kitchen to cook something would mean another wait.

And so Han Linfeng simply spent his winnings to treat Luoyun to a bowl of steaming hot noodle soup from a stall tucked at a street corner.

This kind of common street food was all about bold, satisfying flavors — nothing like the refined and delicate pairings served in the Wang Manor kitchens.

Han Linfeng added a spoonful of chili oil to Luoyun’s noodles, enough to chase away the chill of the night air with a single mouthful.

Luoyun took a large, unsuspecting swallow — and choked until the tip of her nose turned red.

Han Linfeng watched her flustered, endearing reaction with amusement, then ladled extra broth into her bowl to temper the heat.

Luoyun said with undisguised displeasure: “My nose is my livelihood, you know. One spoonful of that and you may as well have put it out of commission entirely.”

Earlier that afternoon, when she had walked through the granaries during the camp inspection, she had followed behind the group of military wives trailing the supply camp officers.

Though she could see nothing, her nose had caught something amiss.

The grain was not being stored properly. In a few of the warehouses, she had caught the distinct smell of damp and mildew.

Some degree of loss in grain storage was to be expected. But this was the front — that grain was meant to feed soldiers in the field.

A small amount of spoilage was one thing to manage. But if too great a quantity had gone moldy, where was the replacement grain to come from on short notice? And if they fed moldy grain to the troops — the men would be collapsing long before they ever set foot on a battlefield.

This grain supply camp had no need of the Sixth Prince going to the trouble of sabotage. Left to itself, it was already riddled through with problems from end to end.

Having heard her out, Han Linfeng shook his head in complete respect for that nose of hers, and gave the tip of it a pinch: “You are not wrong. Several of the warehouse walls have cracked foundations that were never repaired — rainwater has been seeping in. Though from what I observed, it looks deliberate. You need a reason to report losses to your superiors, and once you have reported the losses, you can quietly sell off the grain and balance the books. Deceiving those above and covering it up from those below — it seems they intend to keep me entirely out of the picture, then push me forward as the scapegoat when the time comes for something to go wrong.”

Luoyun said quietly: “The grain supply camp is not so large a place. Dealing with it should not be too complicated. Strike at the root first — once that slippery old Chen Qun has been properly rendered, the rest will be easy enough to handle.”

Han Linfeng said: “No need to rush. Let it sit for a while…”

After that, he said nothing more and seemed to sink into thought.

Luoyun’s blindness was something she had long since grown accustomed to in daily life. Yet in moments like this — alone together, when he fell silent and she could neither see his expression nor reach into his thoughts to lighten whatever weighed on him — she was always touched by a faint, helpless sense of loss.

She could not see what he felt. She could not share the burden or help him find his way through it. That powerlessness had no remedy.

She lowered her eyes and turned her chopsticks slowly in the broth bowl, taking care not to make too much noise, so as not to disturb the quiet in which he was thinking.

Han Linfeng was in fact thinking about affairs in the north.

His sworn brother Cao Sheng had not been in contact for a long time. And the rebel army — which had always carried the banner of reclaiming lost territory — had at some point changed in character beyond recognition.

In the wake of this year’s cascading floods and natural disasters, countless destitute survivors had poured into the rebel ranks. Now, alongside the old rallying cry of reclaiming their homeland, the banner the army raised also bore the words: “Drive out corrupt officials.”

With this shift in banner had come a shift in the army itself. In previous winters, the Tiefu would break camp and move to other grounds, and when the heavy snow settled in, the border would see some measure of quiet. But now the rebel army was pushing relentlessly against the prefectures held by Great Wei’s forces, clamouring to establish a national name — all signs pointed to open insurrection, and even the dead of winter brought no respite.

This had clearly gone far beyond what Cao Sheng had ever intended. But he had gradually been sidelined by Qiu Zhen, and his position had grown precarious.

In an earlier letter, Han Linfeng had heard that Cao Sheng had been struck by a poisoned assassin’s arrow six months prior. He had been treated in time, but the poison had never been fully purged, and his health had been declining steadily since.

Qiu Zhen appeared to have set his sights on marrying Cao Sheng’s daughter. As the old man’s son-in-law, he could claim succession to his entire enterprise in an entirely natural way.

Cao Sheng had raised his banner in the first place out of nothing but wholehearted patriotic fervor — the dream of reclaiming lost land. He had never anticipated that the foundation he had built over years would be stolen from beneath him. His trusted men had suffered several defeats in succession, with heavy casualties, and his standing within the rebel army had gradually fallen behind that of Qiu Zhen, the forever-victorious young general.

Now Cao Sheng lay gravely ill. He could perhaps do nothing but watch as those closest to him — his wife and daughter — were made use of by a man whose ambitions had no limit.

To think that he and Cao Sheng had simply been two men who chanced to meet in the world, who had recognized each other’s worth and sworn brotherhood. And yet the paths their lives had taken were so remarkably alike.

Cao Sheng had drawn in a subordinate harboring a wolf’s heart, and now hovered somewhere between life and death. He himself was being positioned by calculating power-holders to serve as their scapegoat.

The north right now was a game board of knotted and tangled complexity. Every person on it seemed to have lost the freedom to choose their own next move, able only to go forward step by step, feeling for what lay ahead…

When he finally looked up, he found Luoyun sitting quietly beside him. The noodles had been stirred to a soft, collapsed tangle — but she had not eaten.

“Ayun, why are you not eating?”