When only the two of them remained in Guanyin Hall, Xia Xiuyan leaned against the back of the Buddha statue and let out a long breath, as if all the hundreds of bones throughout his body had been taken apart piece by piece and reassembled with new gaps allowing movement. Qiu Xinran’s brows drooped, her expression dejected and downcast, completely lacking her usual spirited appearance. Xia Xiuyan glanced at her and pulled her up: “Let’s go. We need to leave here first.”

The two jumped down from the Buddha statue’s platform and quietly climbed out through the window. All around was silent, and there wasn’t a trace inside the room, as if everything that had just happened was merely a dream.

The calls of crows echoed through the mountains, particularly eerie in this kind of night. The two left Guanyin Hall and circled around to a spot behind some lush shrubbery. After ensuring no one was around, they finally sat down to catch their breath. They sat cross-legged facing each other. Xia Xiuyan calculated in his mind for a while before speaking: “We need to think about what to do next.” In just this short time, he seemed to have already rapidly adjusted his emotions and begun methodically planning based on how the situation had changed.

Qiu Xinran sat across from him watching his lips open and close in the moonlight. He probably said something, but she didn’t hear a single word. She only watched him blankly as he drew lines on the ground with a pebble, thought for a while and then erased them, then drew them again to show her. When he finished, he looked up at her and asked: “Do you understand?”

Qiu Xinran suddenly felt very dejected. She remembered what had happened on the mountain at the traveling palace a year ago. A year had passed and she seemed to have made no progress at all. She lowered her head and suddenly said: “Before I left the palace, the Ninth Princess gave me a white jade ring. She said she had picked it up in the garden.”

Xia Xiuyan was startled but quickly understood: “Li Hantai’s?”

Qiu Xinran tacitly agreed: “At the time she was unwilling to tell me who the ring’s owner was.”

“Where is that ring now?”

“With me.”

Xia Xiuyan’s expression became serious: “Who else have you told about this?”

Qiu Xinran shook her head: “No one.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and warned her: “Don’t tell anyone, and don’t think about using the ring to make an issue of things.” He looked at her and repeated: “At least not now.”

“When can I then?” Qiu Xinran murmured. “When I one day become someone like Teacher?”

“Do you want to become the Director of the Bureau of Astronomy?” Xia Xiuyan asked her.

Qiu Xinran thought for a while and shook her head: “I just want to be a fortune-teller.”

Xia Xiuyan was silent for a moment before speaking: “I will become a general who leads troops.” That was the first time he had voiced his ambition to anyone, though at that time, his ambition was merely to become a general in the military who could lead troops.

“Like your father?” Qiu Xinran asked carefully.

This time Xia Xiuyan was silent for a long time before answering: “I may not be able to be like him. However—” He paused and looked over at Qiu Xinran, showing a slight smile: “There must be someone who can seek justice for us.”

Qiu Xinran’s heart stirred slightly at that fleeting hint of a smile in his gaze. When the night wind blew, the heart she had kept raised all evening seemed to settle down just a little.

In this brief moment, Xia Xiuyan lowered his head again and repeated what he had said earlier: “In a while I’ll return to my guest room and pretend I’ve been resting inside all along. You need to go down the mountain yourself and circle around from behind the great hall to the square. You should sit behind the monks chanting sutras outside the hall. It’s dark all around at night, so no one will notice you. When dawn comes, you need to make some commotion. That way people will remember you were in the square all night without leaving. Understand?”

“Understand…”

“Good.” Under the moonlight the young man showed an approving smile. He pulled her up and led her to the corridor. “Go.” He glanced at the pale-faced girl and spoke to her in a rarely gentle tone: “Don’t be afraid.”

Qiu Xinran looked at the pitch-black corridor with no end in sight, pressed her lips together, and walked forward a few steps. There were no lanterns on the corridor. The wilderness was completely silent, so empty that she could only hear her own footsteps. After walking a dozen meters, she couldn’t help but turn back to look behind her and discovered the black-robed young man still standing in place watching her off.

Qiu Xinran clenched her hands and turned to jog down the mountain. In the darkness of night, all the scenery around her rapidly receded. The palms that had been cold not long ago suddenly broke out in hot sweat, which disappeared again when the wind blew. Only when she ran all the way to the mercy release pond behind the great hall did she dare to lean against a pillar and pant urgently.

Ahead was the great hall. The sound of monks chanting sutras echoed across the square. She made an effort to calm her breathing and carefully crept on tiptoe to behind the chanting monks. The others had left long ago. She randomly found a prayer cushion to sit on. Her heart, beating violently after running, felt like it would jump out of her chest at any moment. No one noticed when she had arrived, and no one noticed how long she had been sitting there.

When the sky grew faintly light, the monks in the square rose wearily. The memorial service had ended. The bell tower rang the morning bell, which echoed throughout the entire temple.

The woman who had been fingering prayer beads all night in the hall opened her eyes. Aunt Pingchun quickly stepped forward to help her up: “Your Majesty hasn’t rested for a full day and night.”

The Empress’s face showed fatigue that was difficult to conceal. Leaning on the support of the palace maid beside her as she rose, she suddenly heard commotion from outside and couldn’t help but frown. Pingchun quickly gave a look to a palace maid nearby. Before long that palace maid returned to report: “It’s Sichen Qiu who kept vigil outside the hall all night. When she just stood up, she fainted.”

The Empress was slightly startled and showed some emotion: “Find an imperial physician to examine her. The poor child has such devotion.”

***

In a daze, Qiu Xinran woke once. She lay on a soft bed. Outside, voices could faintly be heard talking. One of them was Yuan Zhou, as if asking someone: “My martial sister… why hasn’t she woken yet?”

The other voice was rather unfamiliar, sounding like an elderly person patiently saying: “Sichen was frightened… worried excessively… caught a cold… needs good rest…”

“Thank you, Imperial Physician Bao… I’ll see you out…”

After a while it quieted down outside again. She could only hear the crackling sound of charcoal burning in the brazier inside the room, and she fell back into unconsciousness in this silence.

Qiu Xinran felt as if she had a very, very long dream. In the dream she was always running down a pitch-black corridor with no end in sight, trying to escape the footsteps pursuing her from behind. She didn’t dare turn back, yet she could hear the voices coming from behind. Sometimes it was Li Hanyuan anxiously asking her: “Xinran, have you seen my white jade ring?” Other times it changed to Xiao Song desperately asking her: “Sichen Qiu, why didn’t you save me?”

She covered her ears but could still hear the sound of fingernails scraping on the floor—one scrape after another, coarse and sharp. Each sound was like scraping across her heart, making her unable to breathe.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Suddenly a voice spoke softly in her ear. When she looked up, someone stood at the end of the corridor. Moonlight fell on him, his face unclear.

Qiu Xinran’s heart began pounding. She ran toward the moonlight and plunged headlong into broad daylight—

When she opened her eyes, beside the bed was a haggard and weary young man’s face. Qiu Xinran’s mind wandered for a moment, unable to distinguish whether she was still in a dream.

Seeing her awake, Yuan Zhou’s eyes immediately reddened: “Martial sister—” He choked up, turned away, and for a long while didn’t turn his face back.

Outside, sunlight poured overwhelmingly into the room, creating the momentary illusion of returning to the world of the living.

By the time Qiu Xinran could sit up and take medicine, over half a month had passed since Princess Qinghe’s memorial service. Only after she woke did she learn that after fainting at the memorial service, she had been sent back to the official residence and remained in a coma the entire time. The imperial physician had come to examine her, only saying she had been frightened and shocked, worried excessively, and caught a chill, which triggered a high fever. This wasn’t any serious illness, but she delayed in waking, nearly making Yuan Zhou think she wouldn’t pull through.

“You worked hard.” Qiu Xinran leaned against the bed, sincerely thanking him. But Yuan Zhou was embarrassed and said awkwardly: “What’s there to thank me for? If something had truly happened to you, how would I explain it to Master and Martial Uncle?”

“I still have to thank you,” Qiu Xinran smiled. “Clearly I’m the martial sister, yet I’m always causing you trouble.”

“What nonsense.” Yuan Zhou frowned unhappily. He always felt that Qiu Xinran seemed much more dejected during this period, though he didn’t know if it was because of Princess Qinghe’s death or because of this fierce illness.

“Has anything… happened in the palace recently?” the person sitting on the bed suddenly asked.

Yuan Zhou was startled: “What does martial sister mean?”

Qiu Xinran was silent for a while before saying in a low voice: “Weddings, funerals… marriages and such.”

Yuan Zhou had no suspicions and immediately thought of an incident from not long ago: “Oh—speaking of which, there was one thing.”

“What?”

“After Princess Qinghe’s memorial service, Consort Xu was found dead in her own room. After examination by the imperial physician, it was determined she died of poisoning. Her personal maid also hanged herself in the room. It seems that the palace maid had been secretly taking Consort Xu’s jewelry to bribe young eunuchs to sell them outside the palace. When Consort Xu discovered this, she felt guilty and poisoned Consort Xu. But she probably also knew the matter was exposed, so she followed by hanging herself.”

Qiu Xinran felt as if a ball of cotton was lodged in her throat. After a long while she asked: “On what basis did they determine she was the killer?”

“You know that matters in the rear palace are normally managed by the Empress, but recently because of Princess Qinghe’s death, the Empress hasn’t appeared in the rear palace for quite some time. Fortunately, although the methods in this case were cruel, the investigation was fairly easy. They found the young eunuch that palace maid had bribed, and also searched out the poison Consort Xu had taken from her room. With both witness and physical evidence present, the case was closed quickly.”

“How was that palace maid’s body handled?”

Yuan Zhou found her curiosity about this matter somewhat strange, but hearing her tone made it sound like she was just asking casually, so in the end he didn’t take it to heart: “According to normal procedure, they would probably notify the family, but it seems her family members are all gone, so in the end they probably just had someone throw the body into a mass grave.”

Qiu Xinran was silent for a while, then suddenly said: “Can you help me inquire about her family’s whereabouts?”

This time Yuan Zhou truly became alert: “Do you have some connection with her?”

Connection? The cries for help and shouts from the dream seemed to ring in her ears again. Qiu Xinran imperceptibly pinched the bedding lightly before saying with a pale face, casually covering: “That palace maid… I had kindly lent her a sum of silver before.”

“You lent her silver? Why would you…” Yuan Zhou’s expression quickly shifted from surprise to sympathy before finally asking: “How much did you lend her?”

“A large sum.” Qiu Xinran said with a downcast expression. “In any case, help me inquire about it. If I really can’t get it back, then so be it.”

There was a ninety percent chance it couldn’t be recovered. Yuan Zhou probably wanted to say this, but after glancing at her expression, he ultimately held back and didn’t say it. He even kindly consoled her: “No matter. If you urgently need money, you can ask me.”

Qiu Xinran’s lips quirked up quickly at his words, but soon dropped again. She gazed distractedly out the window with a heavily preoccupied appearance.

Yuan Zhou suddenly remembered when she had first entered the palace—her cheeks were round, her eyes bright and teeth white, like a gender-indistinct little immortal child descended from some celestial mountain. In just over a year in the palace, her eyes already held several traces of sorrow.

“Martial sister, do you want to return to the mountain?” Seeing Qiu Xinran stare blankly at him, he became somewhat embarrassed again. “Or do you want to stay here?”

“I’ll have to return eventually…” Qiu Xinran smiled. She looked at the withered leaves covering the ground outside the window and said lightly: “But people can’t be insatiably greedy. When on the mountain, they want to descend. Once at the foot of the mountain, they want to go back again.”