By the time Yun Xi returned, Zhang Dahu had already been hauled off.

As dusk settled, lanterns began lighting up along the banks of the Qinhuai, and Cheng Chang and Yun Xi arrived at Tongzi Lane, the evening glow still vivid on the horizon.

The willows along the embankment were hung with paper flowers. Some young women had already come early to the water’s edge, closing their eyes to make silent wishes to the river god before setting their lotus lanterns afloat.

The lanterns drifted apart on the ripples, floating slowly away.

Cheng Chang asked Yun Xi, “Will you release one?”

Yun Xi thought about it, then smiled faintly. “No. Most of my wishes have already come true. The rest, no god can help with—it’s all up to my own effort.”

Cheng Chang smiled too. “That’s good. Contentment brings happiness.”

Along the embankment were moored boats, all narrow black-canopied skiffs, each able to hold at most five people besides the boatman. Groups of young women boarded them in twos and threes, drifting along with the current, considered a way of sharing in the festive spirit of Flower Festival night.

A boatman poled his black-canopied boat along the bank and called out, “Young sir, young miss, care to board? Just ten coppers, and I’ll take you all the way around the Qinhuai.”

Yun Xi’s gaze fell on the little canopied boat.

Oddly enough, though she was a native of Jinling, she had never once ridden a boat. Her years on the northern frontier were one thing, but even after returning to Jinling and taking up her post as a constable, she’d had no time to spare—when she wasn’t on duty, she was out patrolling the streets, with no leisure to go boating on the Qinhuai.

Yun Xi had always thought boat rides were something only people with idle time to spare could enjoy, and she herself was always rushing from one task to the next.

Cheng Chang glanced at her, understood at once, and took out a piece of silver for the boatman. He stepped onto the boat first, then held out his hand to her. “Come.”

His palm was cool. With just a little pull, he drew her up onto the boat.

The boat rocked, unsettled by the extra weight.

Yun Xi swayed with it, then looked around, marveling. So this was what it felt like to ride a boat—her footing unsteady, as though she were standing on clouds.

Seeing that the two of them weren’t going to sit inside the canopy, the boatman took out two small stools and set them at the bow, then picked up the oar, gave it a push with the current, and called out cheerfully, “Off we go—” The boat glided out onto the water, drifting several feet from the bank in an instant.

Yun Xi didn’t sit. She made her way along the side of the boat, step by step, toward the very front of the bow.

Cheng Chang watched her and asked, “What are you doing?”

Yun Xi turned back and smiled brilliantly. “I’ve never fought a naval battle. I wanted to see what it feels like for those generals who command troops on water.”

Dusk had faded and the night wind was rising. As it blew, the canopy swayed, and Yun Xi, standing at the bow, swayed along with it.

Her balance was excellent, and she quickly steadied herself. “I heard from my father that generals skilled in naval warfare can see for a thousand li, and no matter how rough the waves, if they stand at the bow and draw a bow, they never miss. I was wondering—if I ever get to lead troops out to sea one day, could I do as well as they did.”

As she said this, there was a spirited look about her, her eyes bright as stars, full of boundless longing.

Cheng Chang smiled at that.

Seeing him say nothing, Yun Xi came down from the bow and sat beside him. After a moment of silence, she asked, “Third Young Master, do you not want me to go to war?”

“After all, so many people say… it isn’t good for a woman to join the army.”

In truth it was worse than “not good”—it was an aberration among aberrations. As a woman, she was supposed to observe the Three Obediences and Four Virtues, supposed to support her husband and raise children. For her to run about in the army, longing for the battlefield, was truly a violation of proper order.

And he, as the son of a prince, the future prince himself, was supposed to want a virtuous, cultivated consort.

Cheng Chang asked, “If I told you I didn’t want you to go, would you not go?”

Yun Xi thought it over for a long moment. “I would still go.”

She said, “Because I truly wish to be like my father and brother—a general who guards the borders and drives back invaders. Now that they’re both gone, I want to take their place, to carry on the will of our ancestors of the Yun clan.”

“But,” Yun Xi lowered her eyes and bit her lip, “I really do care what the Third Young Master thinks.”

Because he mattered too much to her.

Cheng Chang said, “I want you to go too.”

“You have your own goal, and you’ve held onto it all this time. There’s nothing better than that.”

“Really?” Yun Xi asked.

Cheng Chang nodded. “Really.”

Seeing that she still looked like she could hardly believe it, he added, “Let me put it this way. Where I come from, there are many girls just like you—they have independent characters, clear and firm goals, and they work hard for them without end. So I hope you can be the same. You’re kind enough, and brave enough, that you never need worry about being unconventional. Someone who can stay true to their own heart and devote themselves wholly to what’s in front of them—that’s a remarkable thing.”

Yun Xi stood up and nodded. “Mm. I’ll definitely win my battles. I’ll definitely come back in triumph.”

Ever since she’d become a commandant, there had been no shortage of skeptical voices at court, saying she had little real ability and owed it all to the emperor’s favor.

But she had studied strategy under her father and brother since she was small, and had gone to the battlefield at the age of twelve. Though her experience was somewhat lacking, she had already made up her mind—once she reached Lingnan, she would learn diligently from the veteran generals in the army, seek their guidance often, and build up her skill bit by bit. She would not fall short of anyone.

Cheng Chang looked at Yun Xi and said with a smile, “Yes—General Yun. It has quite a ring to it.”

The little canopied boat drifted to the middle of the Qinhuai. The boatman switched the pole to the other side, parted the strings of floating lanterns, and slowly poled the boat back toward shore.

Yun Xi sat back down beside Cheng Chang and asked, “Where is the Third Young Master’s hometown?”

“Why do you ask?”

Yun Xi said, “It must be a very, very good place.”

That was surely why he’d grown into someone so clear-eyed, so open-minded, so gentle and unburdened.

The shore was already drawing near. Cheng Chang thought it over and said, “It’s not something I can explain in just a few sentences. When there’s time later, I’ll tell you slowly.”

Once ashore, the guards waiting at the bank paid the boatman his reward. It was now the exact hour of xu, and the Flower Festival night was in full swing, but Yun Xi had to depart at the second watch, and she still needed to go home and say goodbye to the household. Cheng Chang wasn’t willing to keep her until the last possible moment, so he had the guards ready the carriage and escorted her all the way back to the Marquis’s residence.

When they reached a lane near the estate, Cheng Chang had the carriage stop. He pointed to a long alley ahead and said to Yun Xi, “Let me walk part of the way with you.”

Yun Xi nodded with a soft “Mm.” Seeing the residence already in sight, she suddenly remembered something and stopped in her tracks. “Actually, after Luo Shu came to visit the Marquis Zhongyong’s residence last time, I had A’Jiu keep watch on my sister-in-law. She told me that during the two days we were at Mingyin Temple, my sister-in-law’s movements showed nothing unusual, and there was no sign she’d sent word to Prince Yun. But afterward I thought about it more—two days alone isn’t enough to clear her of suspicion entirely. So these past days I haven’t had A’Jiu come with me to Xishan Camp; I’ve kept her at the residence instead. And these past days, nothing unusual has come from anyone in the household.”

“I march out tomorrow morning, and the mole within the Marquis Zhongyong’s household still hasn’t been found. I truly can’t stop worrying about it. Does the Third Young Master have any leads?”

Cheng Chang was silent for a moment, then answered, “No.”

Though he had had Wei Jie start from Fang Yuanshan and investigate the bloodshed at Mingyin Temple years ago, all of it was still only suspicion—it was possible he’d wrongly suspected Fang Fulan.

Besides, over these years Fang Fulan and Yun Xi had relied on each other, the only family each had left. And now, with Yun Xi marching off to a battlefield where blades and arrows showed no mercy, he was worried enough about her safety without troubling her mind further with something uncertain.

Yun Xi said, “If the Third Young Master ever has a lead, you must tell me. If someone within the household has done something treacherous, done you harm, I will not let it go unpunished.”

Cheng Chang smiled. “I will.”

He looked at her, then suddenly said, “Leave something with me.”

Yun Xi nodded. “All right. What does the Third Young Master want?”

Cheng Chang looked her over and his gaze settled on the bronze hairpin tucked into her hair bun.

The hairpin’s shaft was plain and elegant, its head carved with a flying bird—an unusual design that could be worn by either a man or a woman.

“Have you used this hairpin a long time?”

Yun Xi said, “A long time. I’ve had it since before I came of age.”

“Give it to me.”

“All right.” Yun Xi agreed, and pulled it out at once, handing it to Cheng Chang.

A few strands of her hair slipped loose from her ponytail with the motion, falling by her temple, lending a touch of softness to her otherwise bright, striking features.

Cheng Chang took her bronze hairpin, smiled, and said, “I won’t take advantage of you for nothing.”

With that, he removed the jade hairpin from his own hair. His dark hair spilled down like a cascade the moment the pin was pulled free, draping over his shoulders like silk, framing his sharp, striking features—like some celestial being descended from the moon.

He leaned in slightly and slid the jade hairpin into her hair. “Mine, for you.”

Then he looked at her, seeming to think the hairpin suited her, and smiled again. He drew something from the pouch at his sleeve and handed it to her. “And this too.”

It was the safety talisman he’d once prayed for on her behalf, in the Guanyin Hall at Baiyun Temple.

Yun Xi had no idea how important this talisman was to Cheng Chang—it was the one thing that had traveled with him between the two worlds, going with him and coming back with him. It was the only token he possessed from this upended existence of his.

He only said, “It’s very effective. Carry it with you to Lingnan, and it will surely keep you safe.”

The watchman’s clapper sounded in the street. The second watch had come.

Cheng Chang said to Yun Xi, “Go on back now.”

Yun Xi nodded, holding the talisman, and turned to walk off. But after a few steps she paused, then suddenly turned back and hurried over again.

“What is it?” Cheng Chang asked.

Yun Xi lowered her eyes and stood in silence for a moment, then looked up to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to leave the Third Young Master.”

His complexion was poor, quite pale—she had noticed it earlier. She didn’t know how long she’d be gone before she could return, and she hoped, too, that he would stay safe.

Cheng Chang looked at her as well, the clear light in her eyes reflecting little by little in his own. He suddenly caught her wrist, pulled her toward him, and leaned down.

Her lips were soft and delicate, like an early spring blossom just opening. He didn’t linger long, didn’t deepen the kiss.

He held himself back. She, after all, wasn’t from the same world as him, and he wanted to respect her according to the customs of her own world.

But her body stiffened all at once, trembling faintly all over, though there wasn’t the slightest trace of resistance in her—clumsily, haltingly, she even tried to respond.

Cheng Chang found it rather amusing and pulled back slightly.

His nose was barely half an inch from hers. Looking down at her like this, he could see plainly the flustered confusion in her eyes—and yet, even so, she didn’t retreat at all, gazing steadily back at him.

“Looking at me like that,” Cheng Chang said with a smile, “are you even going to let a man court you properly?”

“Has the Third Young Master given up courting me?” Yun Xi considered this, then said earnestly, “If the Third Young Master doesn’t wish to court me anymore, then I’ll do the courting instead.”

“I’m courting you.” Cheng Chang raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I happen to be a bit selfish, actually. I intend to court you so thoroughly, so unforgettably, that no one before or after could compare—so that if one day I’m no longer here, you won’t forget me.”

Yun Xi startled. “Would the Third Young Master not be here?”

Cheng Chang looked at her quietly for a moment, then shook his head. “No.” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you to come back.”

Then he stepped back and urged her on. “All right, it’s gotten too late. Go on home quickly.”

When Yun Xi returned to the residence, Zhao Wu wasn’t at the gate keeping watch as usual. Fang Fulan was pacing back and forth in the front courtyard, her face full of worry.

“Sister-in-law?” Yun Xi called out.

Seeing her, Fang Fulan hurried forward and scolded, “Where have you been? Look how late it is—only just getting back now.”

She should have set off for the camp at the second watch, and she had come back late.

Yun Xi said sheepishly, “I went to say goodbye to a friend, so I was delayed a while.”

Fang Fulan looked a little surprised—A’Ting had never been the type to be careless with time.

Her gaze fell on the fine jade hairpin in Yun Xi’s hair, and she understood at once. She reached out to help tuck the loose strands by Yun Xi’s temple back into her ponytail, redoing her hair, and asked, “Will you be taking this hairpin with you to Lingnan?”

Yun Xi gave a soft “Mm.”

Fang Fulan nodded and said gently, “Uncle Qin has arrived and is waiting for you in the main hall. Let me go find you a soft case for it.”

Uncle Qin was Qin Zhong—once the commanding officer of the Heaven Corps under Yun Shuguang, and A’Jiu’s father. He had a blunt, hot-tempered nature. In the battle at Tage grassland four years ago, he had been gravely wounded and left with a permanent limp in one leg. Though the wound had healed by now, it had left him with chronic ailments, and he was no longer fit to return to the battlefield. After coming back to the capital, he had reported to the Bureau of Military Affairs, and it was said Pei Lan had helped arrange a light, undemanding post for him there.

Yun Xi crossed to the main courtyard in just a few strides. Before she even entered the hall, she heard Qin Zhong inside, scolding A’Jiu: “You’re always so reckless—how am I supposed to feel at ease? Take, for instance, when the emperor’s edict reached the northern frontier and the three of you set out together—I told you again and again, over and over, to protect them, protect them! And what did you do? Charged to the front lines time after time, and once you reached Jinling, went running around all over the place. I’d bet that once you get to Lingnan, you’ll just be busy killing the enemy and won’t spare a thought for the Young Miss’s safety!”

Squatting on a chair, thoroughly indignant, A’Jiu pouted and said, “How much better are those two than me anyway? What do they need my protection for? And don’t underestimate A’Ting either, Old Zhong—her skills are quite good now, she can hold her own against me evenly.”

“I told you to protect them not because they’re less capable than you. It’s because—”

Before Qin Zhong could finish, he caught sight of Yun Xi stepping into the main hall out of the corner of his eye, and fell silent at once.