Yunjing—gathering all the world’s prosperity in one city, with magnificent imperial residences and auspicious fragrant mists.

Today the sky was overcast. Music sounds were faint from the entertainment quarters. The Yunxiang River’s rainbow bridge was broad, with vendors on both sides too distracted to call out their wares, all craning their necks to look toward the imperial street in the distance.

On the river, even the boatmen were absent-minded, competing to look in that direction.

“That one in purple robes—that’s Minister Meng, isn’t it?”

Someone stretched their neck, seeing that among those piles of blue-green and vermillion, that purple color stood out prominently.

“Who else could it be but Minister Meng?” A bare-chested man wiped sweat from his forehead. “Minister Meng returned from Wen County and was formally appointed prime minister. Now, though he’s valued by the Emperor, he hasn’t forgotten to personally come welcome his old friend back to the capital.”

“Where can they still be called old friends?”

An old man with a white beard in scholar’s robes spoke with certainty on the bridge. “Back then, when one was demoted and the other exiled, they severed ties right there at the city gate—quite a few people saw it clearly. Besides, Minister Meng now holds the position of Tongpingzhangshi, a proper chief minister. But what about that Minister Zhang? After fourteen years of exile, I heard his son died on the exile road, and two years ago his wife also passed from illness. Now he returns alone, yet must serve beneath his estranged former friend, appointed as Canzhi Zhengshi, the vice minister. These two working together now—I’m afraid they won’t get along well.”

As he spoke, everyone saw at the far end of the clean, orderly imperial street a carriage approaching. That carriage was worn and cramped, covered in mud.

The old coachman drove the carriage closer. Wind lifted the torn curtain, vaguely revealing a figure seated inside.

“Minister Zhang has arrived.”

A green-robed official saw the carriage and revealed a smile.

Standing before all the officials, the purple-robed minister was about fifty-some years old, with graying temples. A jade hairpin bound his topknot, his eyes clear and bright.

He silently watched as the carriage stopped steadily. When the coachman helped the white-haired old man from the carriage, his face couldn’t help but show some shock.

Among the officials who had come by imperial decree to welcome Vice Minister Zhang Jing back to the capital, several had been Zhang Jing’s students in earlier years. Seeing their teacher again after fourteen years, all froze, then their eyes reddened.

Zhang Jing looked much older than they remembered—his back somewhat hunched, unable to straighten, his hair completely white, his face gaunt and loose. These few steps walking toward them, he needed to lean on a cane.

Actually, he was only five years older than Minister Meng Yunxian, but now appeared afflicted with age and injury, unable to walk properly.

“Brother Chongzhi…”

The purple-robed minister’s heart turned with a hundred flavors upon seeing him approach.

“I thank Minister Meng and all of you for coming to welcome me. Zhang Jing gives his thanks.” Zhang Jing averted his eyes, nodding slightly—his extremely distant attitude made the scene momentarily cold.

Zhang Jing didn’t linger, walking forward with faltering steps. The officials gathered together immediately stepped aside. His several students called out “Teacher” with choked, sobbing voices, but Zhang Jing ignored them.

“Minister Zhang.”

An official in crimson robes who had just bowed but been deliberately ignored straightened up again.

Zhang Jing stopped and turned back. He carefully examined that official’s features, his gaze settling on a black mole near the temple: “It’s you.”

“This official is Jiang Xianming. I’m honored that Minister Zhang still remembers.” Jiang Xianming had reached middle age, sporting a blue-black beard, maintaining a proper and upright bearing.

“How could I not remember? When I left Yunjing, it was precisely when Director Jiang was in his prime. Fourteen years have passed—I hear you’re now Yushi Zhongcheng?” Zhang Jing’s hands rested on his cane.

Jiang Xianming met the old minister’s gaze. “Is Minister Zhang still angry with me about what happened back in Yongzhou…”

“Don’t mention him to me.”

Before the words were finished, Zhang Jing’s expression darkened as he interrupted.

In this moment, the scene grew even more tense. A Hanlin Academy scholar named He Tong couldn’t help but speak angrily: “Director Jiang, today my teacher returns to the capital—why do you mention that traitor? The Emperor has already permitted my teacher to re-enter the Two Offices. Your behavior in the street—what do you intend?”

“Scholar He, why such a reaction? Your few fellow students of Minister Zhang stand nearby, yet Minister Zhang doesn’t acknowledge any of you.” Jiang Xianming stepped forward two paces, but lowered his voice. “Or is it that in Minister Zhang’s eyes, among you several students, there was originally one more important?”

“What does Director Jiang mean by this?” Meng Yunxian suddenly spoke. Seeing Jiang Xianming bow his head, he smiled. “Minister Zhang most dislikes people weeping and wailing. Seven-foot men conducting themselves improperly in the street—that he ignores them, what’s strange about that?”

Hearing this, Jiang Xianming looked again at Zhang Jing, protected in the middle by his several students. Despite his white hair and decline, his bearing remained proud and aloof.

After a moment, Jiang Xianming bowed formally again. This time his attitude suddenly relaxed considerably, showing some respect. “I humbly ask Minister Zhang’s forgiveness. Only because Xianming has never forgotten your harsh rebuke at the city gate before you left the capital. Xianming came today to sincerely welcome the Minister, not to make difficulties. Fifteen years have passed. Xianming admits that when serving as Yongzhou Prefect, carrying out the lingering death sentence on that traitor Xu Hexue was indeed driven by public outrage and my own fury, with private motives involved. Great Qi law had no slicing punishment precedent—I punished first and memorialized the throne after, which was indeed criminal.”

“Didn’t the Emperor already absolve Director Jiang of blame?” An official carefully chimed in. “Your actions that day aligned with public sentiment. No need to dwell on it. That traitor betrayed the nation—if not sliced to death, he should have been beheaded anyway.”

“But I want to ask Minister Zhang…”

Jiang Xianming remained bowing. “In your heart now, what do you think?”

What does he think?

The smile in Meng Yunxian’s eyes faded considerably, but he said nothing. Zhang Jing’s several students were about to speak for their teacher when they saw him raise his hand. They immediately fell silent.

The sky was overcast and blue-gray. By the Yunxiang River, willows formed a jade curtain. Music from the entertainment quarters reached the imperial street even more faintly. Zhang Jing stood with both hands on his cane. The breeze of Yunjing, long absent, stirred his sleeves. “That traitor was no longer my student when he turned fourteen.”

As Zhang Jing’s students, He Tong and the other officials couldn’t help but breathe sighs of relief.

The thing court officials feared most was still this Director Jiang, renowned for his upright severity as Yushi Zhongcheng. He wielded impeachment powers, and the Emperor permitted him to make accusations based on hearsay—even without sufficient evidence, mere fragments of rumor could become grounds for impeachment, submitted to the Emperor’s desk.

Moreover, who could guarantee that today’s questioning wasn’t at the Emperor’s behest?

“This official Jiang Xianming respectfully welcomes Minister Zhang back to the capital.”

Having reached this point, Jiang Xianming’s expression became even more respectful. He bowed deeply to the old minister once more.

The officials on the imperial street came and went, clustering around Great Qi’s current Two Office ministers toward the Forbidden Palace. The guards stationed along the road also divided into several teams, gradually departing.

“Xu Ziling?”

Ni Su had watched enough of the spectacle from the bridge. She turned her face but saw the lonely soul beside her, his form appearing even more insubstantial. The sky was overcast with shallow sunlight, yet he seemed dazed, staring fixedly at one spot.

“Did you see someone?”

Ni Su turned back again. The imperial street already had no human figures.

A breeze stirred the misty willows. Rippling light filled the river. This was a place Xu Hexue had left many years ago and forgotten for many years, yet standing here now, all the past was as clear as yesterday.

“My teacher.”

He said.

That summer evening fourteen years ago, on Yunjing’s Yong’an Lake in the Xiechun Pavilion, this was the teacher who had told him, “If you dare go, never come see me again in this life.”

“Do you want to see him?”

Ni Su asked.

Xu Hexue said nothing, only moving his gaze back to her face. After a long while, he said: “I still have your brother’s soul-fire here. As soon as I release it, we’ll know your brother’s whereabouts.”

Throughout this journey, the soul-fire had shown no abnormalities, which indicated that Ni Qinglan hadn’t left Yunjing.

As his words fell, Ni Su saw him lightly raise his hand. She didn’t know what technique he used—light traces more scattered and fine than sparks flew from his sleeve. Ni Su followed their floating direction and turned around, seeing them fly over the skies of Yunjing City, disappearing behind the layered buildings and roof tiles.

“How long will it take?”

Ni Su looked at those roof tiles.

The flowing light fine as silver thread disappeared at Xu Hexue’s fingertips. His complexion became even paler. Beneath his concealing sleeves, countless wounds cracked inch by inch. Deep red blood flowed along his wrist into his palm, dripping onto the bridge and transforming into luminescent dust. He endured the pain, his voice calm: “The soul-fire is weak—it may take some time.”

As Ni Su turned back, he drew his sleeves closed. The dark cloak showed no signs of blood staining.

“The Yanzhou student who was friends with my brother mentioned in his letter the inn where he and my brother previously stayed in Yunjing. Why don’t we go there first?”

“Alright.”

Xu Hexue nodded.

When Ni Su arrived at Qingfu Inn, she routinely requested two rooms. Just after placing her bundle in the room, she went downstairs to speak with the shopkeeper.

“Miss, that winter examination was an imperial examination specially decreed by the Emperor—there was no precedent before. It was only because the Emperor wanted to welcome back Ministers Meng and Zhang to promote new policies that this winter examination was held to select new talent. During those days, not only was our inn full of examination candidates, but other inns were too. With so many people, how could I remember just one person you’re asking about…” The shopkeeper was questioned to distraction, waving his hands repeatedly. “If you ask me about the top three from the palace examination, I could tell you their names, but none of those staying here passed.”

Ni Su couldn’t extract any information, much less learn which room her brother had stayed in at this inn.

As the sky gradually darkened, Yunjing’s night market revealed a liveliness different from daytime. The lattice window couldn’t block the sound of silk and bamboo from the entertainment quarters. Ni Su had no heart to appreciate Yunjing’s distinctive atmosphere. After eating just a few bites, she set down her bowl and chopsticks and ran to the neighboring room door, knocking.

Xu Hexue on the bed opened his eyes. He struggled to rise, his voice hoarse: “Come in.”

Hearing his voice, Ni Su pushed open the door. The several lamp candles burning on the table were all ones she had previously lit for him. She walked closer and saw Xu Hexue sitting on the bed, drawing on his cloak.

“Your complexion doesn’t look well.”

Ni Su looked at him and said.

“It’s nothing.” Xu Hexue smoothed his sleeves, covering his wrists.

Ni Su sat down in the folding chair opposite him. A lamp candle at her side—she casually lit another. “I came to ask you—what is your old friend’s name? How old now?”

Hearing clearly the words “how old,” Xu Hexue suddenly looked up.

“Ni Su, I never said my old acquaintance was a woman.”

“Not a woman?”

Ni Su looked at him. In the bright candlelight, she could still vaguely see the embroidered characters at the edge of his sleeve. “I apologize. I saw the delicate handwriting on your sleeve, so…”

She had naturally assumed that the person who prepared this winter garment for him should be a woman. After all, generally speaking, no man would embroider a name on winter clothing.

“He had a childhood sweetheart. This embroidery should have come from her hand.”

Xu Hexue said.

“I misunderstood.”

Ni Su felt embarrassed. Looking at the young man seated on the bed—pale and frail, even his lips devoid of color, his collar neat, his bearing elegant.

Xu Hexue was about to say something when he saw silken silver light coiling toward the lattice window behind her, yet it contained none of the soul-fire droplets he had released during the day.

His expression changed slightly. He instinctively stood up, but was unprepared for a violent dizziness that struck.

Ni Su only saw him stagger and immediately stepped forward to support him. This contact—grasping his wrist, she felt as if she held a handful of snow, so cold she shivered.

But Ni Su didn’t let go, helping him to the bed. “How are you…”

Her fingers touched something ice-cold and wet. Her words suddenly stopped. Looking down, she saw his sleeves hidden beneath the cloak were stained deep red with blood. Blood pearls meandered down his arm, soiling his thin, pale hands. His slender finger joints curled inward, causing the thin skin over the back of his hand to bulge with blue veins.

Silently proclaiming what he was currently enduring.

Ni Su released her grip, watching the blood on her palm that belonged to him gradually transform into floating, fragmented luminescent dust. In the candlelight, it vanished in an instant. Ni Su realized something and sharply looked up:

“Helping me find my brother—does it hurt you?”

—