After dinner, Prefect Liu led Cheng Ye and Tian Si to their lodgings and said apologetically, “An urgent dispatch arrived from the court this morning that didn’t mention the young prince would also be coming to Yangzhou, so this humble official only prepared lodgings for Officer Tian. I’ve just had my servants tidy up the side chambers of the main courtyard. Please wait a moment, Young Prince—once the rooms are ready, I’ll show you there myself.”

Cheng Ye said, “No need to trouble yourself, Lord Liu. I’ll simply share a room with Officer Tian.”

He was a military man, unconcerned with such formalities, and besides, he and Tian Ze were close friends, which naturally extended to Tian Si as well. Back when the Tian brothers first came to the capital, they’d met him on the road, and in those lean days, the group of them had shared the sky as their roof and the earth as their bed, roughing it together for a time.

Tian Si, used to looking after Tian Ze, couldn’t sit still now that Cheng Ye was sharing his room. He made up the bed, laid out the blankets, and went outside to fetch water so Cheng Ye could wash up.

By the time he’d finished all this, night had fully fallen. Yet Tian Si didn’t settle down to rest—he kept stepping outside to look around, and even when he sat back down by the window, his gaze remained fixed on the darkened courtyard entrance.

Cheng Ye knew he was waiting for Yun Xi. After hesitating for a long moment, he said, “Brother Tian, I… there’s something I want to ask you.”

Tian Si said, “G-go ahead.”

“Do you… do you also have feelings for Yun Xi?”

At this, Tian Si startled badly. “Don’t don’t don’t don’t say such nonsense!”

“She and I, we’re—we’re just friends.”

Seeing him so flustered, Cheng Ye found this hard to believe. “But it seems to me your feelings for her go beyond simple friendship.”

Tian Si was an honest sort, though hardly a pushover—he was careful and cautious, generally unwilling to meddle in others’ affairs. Yun Xi was the one exception.

If there was anyone besides Tian Ze that Tian Si had ever poured his heart out for over the years, it was Yun Xi alone.

A year ago, before Tian Ze’s spring examinations, when Yun Xi went off to campaign in Lingnan, Tian Si hadn’t stayed in Jinling to accompany Tian Ze through his exams—instead, he’d gone along to protect Yun Xi.

Now Tian Ze had entered the Ministry of Justice, and Tian Si had become a military officer. Though the Tian family’s fortunes had greatly improved, their household kept no servants beyond a few for chores. Recently, with the massive case of the theft at the Sui Palace, Tian Ze had been swamped with work day after day—by rights, Tian Si should have stayed home to look after him. Instead, he’d come along to Yangzhou to protect Yun Xi.

Such deep, constant concern—could that really be just friendship?

Seeing Cheng Ye’s half-doubtful expression, Tian Si explained, “I—I just, think of A’Ting, as my own, my own younger sister.”

“Really,” he said. “The Marquis Zhongyong household—the Marquis Zhongyong household showed kindness to me, and to Wang’an.”

Cheng Ye had actually heard something of this from Tian Ze before.

When the two brothers first arrived in Jinling, Tian Si had gone to the capital prefecture looking for work, and if Yun Xi hadn’t taken him on as a constable under her, the two brothers likely wouldn’t have been able to establish themselves. Later, hearing that Tian Ze wanted to study for the imperial examinations, Yun Xi had even given him writing supplies from the marquis household.

But was that alone enough to earn such devoted, wholehearted gratitude from Tian Si? Enough that he sometimes seemed to value Yun Xi even above Wang’an?

“A’Ting, her father, her elder brother, they’re all gone. She’s, a very good girl. Wang’an and I feel that the Marquis Zhongyong household, helped—helped us when we were at our lowest, so we, we absolutely must repay that kindness. Over the years, these years we’ve known each other, it’s become just like family.”

As Tian Si spoke, Cheng Ye caught a hint of something in his earlier words and couldn’t help asking, “Why did you ask if I also like her? Do—do you like her, A’Ting?”

Cheng Ye fell silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I like her.”

“Actually, before this I’d only heard of her, never met her. Then one time she came to Prince Nan’an’s mansion, and just one glance was enough—she’d already taken root in my heart.”

Tian Si blinked, stunned. “I—I never, this whole time, never noticed.”

Cheng Ye said, “It’s not your fault for not noticing, Brother Tian. I’ve had so many duties this past year, constantly running back and forth, and haven’t shown my face in front of her much at all.”

He smiled. “I don’t mind admitting this to you—the first time I saw her, I was still just a seventh-rank commander in the capital garrison. You know what state Prince Nan’an’s household was in back then. I was afraid I wasn’t worthy of her, so I kept it to myself and never brought it up.”

The Marquis Zhongyong household had once carried considerable prestige, unlike Prince Nan’an’s household. Prince Nan’an was an imperial collateral branch who’d been demoted in rank and summoned back under the emperor’s watch, kept low and humble for so long that they had neither power nor influence—even some households with mere eunuch connections looked down on them.

“This past year, campaigning north and south, I’ve earned quite a few merits. I won’t say it was entirely for her sake, but privately, I did hope to become worthy of her. Yet her current rank is still above mine.”

She was a fourth-rank General of Illustrious Might, while he was a fifth-rank General of Pacification.

But rank wasn’t really the point—commanding the Imperial Guard Bureau at Emperor Zhaoyuan’s side already carried considerable glory.

Having heard all this, Tian Si said with sudden understanding, “No wonder you’ve never taken a wife.”

“So what, what do you plan to do?” he asked. “A’Ting, she doesn’t say much on the surface, but actually, she has her own mind about things. Right now, many—many people have gone to the marquis household to propose, and she’s turned them all down. She’s either out looking, looking for the third young master, or, hiding away at Xishan Camp.”

“I know,” Cheng Ye nodded. “I’ve heard all about it. So I’m planning, once we’re back in Jinling, to pick a day and ask her how she feels.”

“That’s, that’s good,” Tian Si said. “Ever since, ever since the third young master left, A’Ting has, been very sad. If someone’s willing to treat her well for, for the rest of her life, then once, once Wang’an and I leave, we can, rest easy too.”

“Leave?” Cheng Ye was taken aback. “You and Wang’an don’t plan to stay in Jinling?”

Tian Si fell silent for a moment, then nodded. “Right, we’re not, staying in Jinling. Wang’an and I, want to handle something in Jinling first. Once it’s done, we’re, going to leave.”

Cheng Ye was quite surprised. He and Tian Ze were close friends—why had Tian Ze never mentioned any of this to him?

He was about to ask more when he heard a soft creak from the courtyard gate across the way. Tian Si shot to his feet at once, picked up the candlestick, and stepped into the courtyard, asking, “A’Ting, are, are you back?”

The night was deep and dark. Yun Xi’s voice drifted through the vast darkness. “I’m back.”

“How, how did it go?”

There was no answer for a moment.

The spring night was thick and heavy. From where Tian Si stood, Yun Xi was nothing more than a hazy silhouette.

She slowly drew the painting she carried closer against her chest, and shook her head in silence.

Tian Si comforted her. “It’s, it’s all right, A’Ting.”

Yun Xi made a small sound of acknowledgment and said, “Right, it’s fine. We’re staying in Yangzhou two more days anyway. In two days it’s the Awakening of Insects, and Yangzhou holds a mountain god ceremony—there’ll be crowds that day, I’ll ask around again then.”

With that, she said nothing more, closed the courtyard gate, and returned to her own room.

Yun Xi didn’t lie down to rest right away. She sat quietly in her room for a while, lit a candle, unrolled the painting on the table, took out a fine brush from her travel bag, and gently dusted off a few specks that had settled on the painted brows and eyes—his brows and eyes—then rolled the painting back up and returned it to its bamboo tube. She also removed the jade hairpin from her hair and put it away in a soft case.

She treasured this jade hairpin dearly, wearing it only when she went out searching for him.

Even the pale jade-green dress she wore now had been chosen specifically to match this hairpin—she’d picked the fabric herself and had it tailored specially.

She’d never once, before this, chosen fabric for herself.

After washing up, Yun Xi lay down on the bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Her heart ached, yet she felt she mustn’t lose heart. The world was so vast—even a whole lifetime wouldn’t be enough to walk every mountain and river in it.

He had to be alive somewhere out there, living well.

There were still so many places she hadn’t searched.

Before falling asleep, Yun Xi planned out the next few days.

Her trip to Yangzhou was mainly to lend a show of authority to the case; she didn’t need to actually investigate—as an officer of the Guangxi Bureau under the Privy Council, her duties centered on capturing bandits. If she could find some clue about the palace thief while in Yangzhou, all the better; if not, she’d return to Jinling as soon as possible, since the Ministries of Justice and War would send other investigators to look into Officer Li’s death regardless.

With these thoughts, drowsiness crept over her, and she closed her eyes, gradually drifting off to sleep.

Ever since Cheng Chang had disappeared, she’d slept very lightly, and staying now at the Yangzhou prefectural office in unfamiliar surroundings only made it worse. She hadn’t slept long before her eyes opened again—dawn had just barely broken, and from the front courtyard’s public hall came the faint sound of weeping.

Startled, Yun Xi quickly dressed, washed up briefly, grabbed her sword, and hurried to the hall.

The hall was brightly lit. Prefect Liu sat right in the middle, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief, saying between dabs, “I barely slept a wink all night, one nightmare after another. I kept thinking about how Officer Li was murdered, so I figured I’d come look through the case files early, hoping to bring the culprit to justice sooner. Who could have imagined… who could have imagined something like this would happen?”

Tian Si and Cheng Ye had already arrived at the hall as well. Seeing Yun Xi come in, they explained, “Just now, the prefectural storeroom was broken into. Officer Li’s dying testament—the blood letter—has been stolen.”

Yun Xi was stunned. “Wasn’t the case file and blood letter from Officer Li’s hanging case being guarded by over a dozen skilled constables? How could it still be stolen?”

“Stolen isn’t quite the word for it,” Prefect Liu said, his freshly wiped tears welling up again. “That thief clearly came to take it by force. I don’t know what kind of training he had, but over a dozen men couldn’t beat him. He grabbed the blood letter and slipped away. When the court asks about this, what am I supposed to say? This is nothing short of a death sentence for me!”

Yun Xi asked the clerk standing nearby, “Have men been sent in pursuit already?”

“Reporting to the general, yes,” the clerk said. “Constable Wang personally led the chase. It happened just half an hour ago. When the young prince arrived just now, he ordered a citywide manhunt.”

Yun Xi nodded. Thinking of the theft at the Ministry of War’s storeroom, where the storekeeper there had also reported the thief’s exceptional skill, she was about to ask further to see if the two cases might be connected, when a constable came hurrying in and bowed to her. “General Yun, there’s someone outside claiming to be one of your subordinates, asking to see you.”

“One of my subordinates?” Yun Xi was taken aback.

What subordinates did she have in Yangzhou?

Before she could work it out, a tall figure in a blue robe strode into the hall, crescent eyes curving into a bright, lively expression. “A’Ting!”

Yun Xi blinked. “A’Jiu? What are you doing in Yangzhou?”

She’d given her leave earlier and hadn’t seen her for seven or eight days—how had she suddenly turned up in Yangzhou?

“Don’t even start with me!” A’Jiu plopped herself down carelessly onto a nearby chair, picked up the teapot beside her, and took several long gulps straight from the spout, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “I went back to Xishan Camp last night looking for you, and only then found out you’d come alone to handle business in Hangzhou—er, Yangzhou. How are you supposed to manage without me around to protect you? So I rushed over overnight to lend a hand.”

Yun Xi nodded.

Noticing Prefect Liu staring blankly at A’Jiu, handkerchief still in hand, she made introductions. “Lord Liu, this is my personal guard, Qin Jiu.” Then, “A’Jiu, this is the Prefect of Yangzhou, Lord Liu Qin.”

Prefect Liu, handkerchief still clutched in his hand, bowed. “Guard Qin.”

A’Jiu nodded. “Nice to meet you, Lord Liu.”

Just then, Constable Wang, who had gone earlier in pursuit of the thief, returned to the office.

Outside, it was already broad daylight. Constable Wang and his fellow constables, drenched in sweat from exhaustion, bowed to Prefect Liu and apologized. “Please punish us, my lord. We were unable to catch the thief.”

“You didn’t catch him?” Prefect Liu was stunned.

Half an hour of pursuit, and they’d failed to catch him?

“Reporting to you, my lord, the thief was far too cunning. He led us in circles until we were completely disoriented, then vanished without a trace,” Constable Wang said. “The last we saw of him was near Hualan Alley, close to the government office. We’ve searched the entire area thoroughly, but there’s no sign of him.”

Hearing this, Prefect Liu thought for a moment, then asked A’Jiu, “Guard Qin, on your way to the office, did you happen to notice anyone suspicious?”

A’Jiu, having apparently already emptied the teapot in her hands, was lifting the lid to check when she was asked. She blinked. “Huh? Suspicious people? No, none. Just saw a few people delivering vegetables and wine early in the morning. Are they the ones you’re looking for?”

At this, Prefect Liu’s face went pale, and he sank back into his chair in despair. “It’s over, it’s all over.”

“We haven’t even figured out the truth behind Officer Li’s death, and now the blood letter he left behind is gone too. When the court asks in a few days, what am I supposed to tell them?” He picked up his handkerchief again and started wiping at his eyes. “I haven’t slept properly in days, haven’t had any appetite, devoted myself heart and soul to this investigation, and this is the misfortune I get for it. Heaven really does mean to finish me off. Forget it—in a couple of days it’s the mountain god ceremony for the Awakening of Insects. I’ll just consider that my last act of service, and once I’ve led the common folk through the worship, I’ll find myself a sturdy tree branch to hang from and offer myself up to the gods as well…”

Hearing this, the clerk beside him offered some comfort. “No matter how skilled that thief is, he’s still just one man. If we search the city thoroughly, surely he can’t escape Yangzhou. There’s no need to worry too much, my lord—things may yet turn around.”

“Turn around how? Tell me how this turns around!” Prefect Liu wept, tears and snot running freely. “Everything was going fine, and then first Officer Li dies in my jurisdiction, and now a thief comes and steals the blood letter. Unless, like last time, a third young master drops out of the sky and lands right in front of me, giving me a chance to redeem myself, I’m afraid I’m going to die an unjust death here…”