After autumn, severe drought began in various regions. It hadn’t rained for a long time, which would inevitably affect this year’s harvest. The court was in a state of anxiety. Emperor Xuande personally went to the Temple of Heaven to pray for rain, but unfortunately with little effect.
Bai Jingming had been frequently visiting the Observatory Platform lately, sitting there for entire nights at a time. Qiu Xinran wasn’t skilled at observing celestial phenomena, but seeing his expression, she knew the heavenly signs were abnormal, likely portending chaos.
“What did Teacher see?” One night, she finally couldn’t help asking.
Bai Jingming stood on the high platform with his hands behind his back, head raised to gaze at the horizon. For most people in this world, the brilliant starry river overhead held the tranquility belonging to autumn nights—just another ordinary scene in the mortal realm. He raised his hand to point at a flickering star in the eastern sky: “Do you see that star?”
Qiu Xinran looked up. Based on the positions of the Twenty-Eight Mansions, she calculated once, her expression showing slight alarm: “That’s the Heart Mansion?”
Bai Jingming’s face grew grave: “Mars guards the Heart—great chaos will arise.”
Mars guarding the Heart was a rarely seen omen of great calamity. Upon learning this, both court and countryside erupted in discussion again.
Famine was almost unavoidable. As winter approached, the court began distributing grain in various regions. The only fortunate thing was that the national treasury had been relatively full these past two years. This year’s drought hadn’t caused too much unrest or created excessive numbers of refugees.
Just when people breathed a sigh of relief, thinking they would safely pass the year’s end, war came from the Northwest.
This natural disaster not only affected the Han people but also pushed the distant Dayue people at the border into dire straits. After winter began, they initially only sent several small squads to harass the border defenses, stealing some horses and grain to take back, same as previous years.
But by deep winter, these minor provocations became increasingly frequent. In the twelfth month, news came from the front lines—the second prince Qikedan under the Dayue Khagan’s tent, taking advantage of the Khagan’s serious illness, tore apart the delicate peace maintained with the Great Li Dynasty for nearly ten years and led troops directly down to attack Luzhou.
When news reached Chang’an, Emperor Xuande was furious.
The Emperor in the great hall threw down the memorial rushed from the front lines by swift horses, angrily demanding: “The front line war has been going on for nearly two months. If not for news from the Northwest Protectorate, would I have only learned of this after Luzhou city fell and the Dayue people attacked Chang’an!”
The entire hall fell silent as cicadas in winter. No one dared raise their heads to respond.
After court dismissed, rumors spread like wildfire that Xia Hongying was stubborn and self-willed, greedy for merit and advancement, and had concealed military intelligence.
But the urgent matter now was no longer investigating what exactly had gone wrong. The crisis in Luzhou was imminent. At this juncture, the most pressing thing was to send people to provide support.
But at this point, the court began arguing endlessly over who to send.
Zheng Yuanwu’s father Zheng Lu was naturally the most suitable choice, but he guarded the Southwest. If he were transferred, they feared Southwest unrest. The other generals of the same generation were advanced in years. Having them rush to the border in just a few days—their bodies likely couldn’t support it. So everyone had to turn their attention to the younger generation.
For young people, this was truly an excellent opportunity to establish meritorious service. As long as they could settle the Luzhou crisis, being granted titles and elevated in rank was a certainty. Until this point, most people still optimistically believed that although Luzhou now faced danger, it was still Xia Hongying and his Changwu Army stationed within. As long as reinforcements arrived, the siege crisis would naturally be resolved.
Thus, for a time, this assignment to lead troops to support Luzhou became a coveted prize in everyone’s eyes. Various factions and parties in court and countryside launched a round of covert competition, exhausting all means to push their own people forward, to the point that this personnel decision was delayed indefinitely.
“They’ve been deliberating so long—why not let Young Lord Xia go?” When Qiu Xinran heard of this matter, she asked Yuan Zhou beside her in puzzlement. “He’s General Xia’s only son. Wouldn’t sending him be most appropriate?”
“Everyone knows Young Lord Xia is weak and cannot lead troops.” Yuan Zhou sighed. “Moreover, precisely because he’s General Xia’s only son, His Majesty would be even less likely to let him go.”
Snow had just fallen in the palace. The two walked through the snow, one step deep and one shallow, heading toward the Bureau of Astronomy. Yuan Zhou hugged his books and said with lowered head: “He’s different from Young Lord Zheng. His Majesty has long wanted to reclaim the Changwu Army’s tiger tally. The Changwu Army cannot bear the Xia surname.”
The two held their books and rounded a corner, suddenly glimpsing a figure standing far away before Wanhe Hall. He wore a fur coat standing in the snow, with a young servant holding an umbrella beside him. The two couldn’t help but stop, no longer walking forward.
After a while, the hall doors opened. Kong Tai walked out from behind the doors with his hands tucked in his sleeves. He stood on the steps and shook his head at the person standing below. The young man raised his head and said something more. Kong Tai’s face showed some difficulty, but he still shook his head. After another moment, Kong Tai turned and returned to the hall, closing the hall doors.
The person at the bottom of the steps stood in place for a while, finally turning to leave.
When he turned back, Qiu Xinran somehow instinctively ducked toward the wall corner, not wanting him to see her. Xia Xiuyan indeed didn’t see her. He walked step by step through the snow toward outside the palace, his figure finally gradually becoming as small as snowflakes, disappearing into this vast white winter day.
Yuan Zhou also watched him, suddenly saying: “What do you think Young Lord Xia came for?”
Qiu Xinran didn’t speak, but in her heart she knew—probably for the Luzhou matter. Yuan Zhou naturally thought of this too and sighed again: “Everyone says Young Lord Xia isn’t close to General Xia. Ah…”
The debate over who to send with troops to support Luzhou lasted nearly ten days. Fortunately, during these ten days the court wasn’t completely idle. In nearly ten days’ time, the court swiftly assembled troops from various places. Finally selecting the commanding general—it was the son of Minister of War Shi, the current commander of Chang’an’s Shenwu Army, Shi Meng.
Shi Meng had long been tempered in the military, in his prime at around thirty. But previously, because he lacked military merit, he’d been unable to advance. Sending him to lead troops to Luzhou this time was an excellent opportunity.
On the day Chang’an’s snow melted, he led a mighty force out of the city heading to the Northwest. Emperor Xuande personally went to the city wall to see him off. The capital’s citizens lined the roads to send him off, wishing him triumphant return.
Qiu Xinran also went that day to join the excitement. She stood in the crowd, watching the army outside Chang’an city disappear into the dust raised by horse hooves, clutching the three copper coins in her sleeve, eyes downcast, not knowing what she was thinking.
After the crowd dispersed, she came to her senses and looked up to see Xia Xiuyan standing on the city wall. He seemed to have come alone today. In this snow-melting weather, he wore a silver fox fur coat, his complexion appearing even paler than others—whether because he was still taking that medicine, or he was truly ill.
This time when Xia Xiuyan lowered his head, he also saw her. His eyesight had always been good. The two stared at each other in a daze across the towering city wall for a while. Qiu Xinran suddenly smiled, raising her hand and calling to him: “Young Lord, would you like to go drink?”
This was the first time the two had spoken since that conversation outside Fukang Palace in summer. The young woman still wore that Daoist attire, face upturned smiling at him without resentment, even more dazzling than the sun that had melted the snow.
The drinking place was chosen by Qiu Xinran—a wine shop not far from the city wall. Inside sat people who’d just returned from seeing off the army. Upon entering, it felt warm and lively inside.
Xia Xiuyan clearly didn’t like this noisy environment. As soon as he entered, he couldn’t help frowning. Before he could speak, the server had already approached. Qiu Xinran said boldly there were just the two of them, wanting strong liquor from this shop, even seeming to urge by giving him a light push on the back.
Xia Xiuyan suspected she was already drunk before touching any alcohol. After all, though she seemed full of schemes in the palace, she at least maintained a careful and cautious appearance.
The server probably noticed that Xia Xiuyan’s silver fox fur coat was worth quite a bit. In the end, he didn’t seat them in the crowd but led them to a corner behind a screen. Xia Xiuyan was barely satisfied with this arrangement and finally condescended to sit down.
While waiting for the wine, the two sat behind the screen listening to the people outside talk wildly. Each sounded like a first-rank court official discussing state affairs. At first Qiu Xinran found it amusing and could still laugh. By the middle, when she heard them mention Xia Hongying’s poor defense of the city this time and how Xia Xiuyan was such a famously sickly person, she finally couldn’t laugh anymore.
She awkwardly stole a glance at Xia Xiuyan’s expression. Seeing his face remained normal as he warmed wine cups with tea water from the table, also warming one for her and passing it over, as if he hadn’t heard a single word of what was said outside.
The server brought the wine—it was indeed strong liquor. One mouthful made Qiu Xinran choke until tears came out. Xia Xiuyan fared better than her, but after one cup, his eyes also flushed faintly with color.
Qiu Xinran made conversation: “Did the Young Lord also come today to see off the three armies?”
“Passing by, so I looked in.”
Qiu Xinran scoffed at these words, thinking this person’s mouth didn’t match his heart. Xia Xiuyan seemed to hear her silent criticism and glanced at her, asking as if casually: “This time with Shi Meng leading troops, His Majesty didn’t have you divine fortune and misfortune?”
Qiu Xinran paused: “I did divine it.”
Xia Xiuyan lowered his eyes and rubbed the cup rim several times: “What was the result?”
“What does the Young Lord hope the result would be?”
Xia Xiuyan seemed not to understand why she asked this: “Naturally hoping for great victory.”
“Has the Young Lord considered—” Qiu Xinran pressed her lips together. “If Minister Shi achieves great victory, the Young Lord might never have another chance to leave Chang’an in this lifetime.”
Only after a moment did Xia Xiuyan hear the meaning in her words. His face instantly turned cold: “What do you take warfare to be?”
Qiu Xinran hadn’t seen him angry in a long time. Though Xia Xiuyan seemed to have a bad temper, he rarely truly showed a cold face. She was stunned, then lowered her head and smiled: “I was tricking you. His Majesty never had me divine fortune and misfortune.” She took out from her sleeve the three copper coins she’d been clutching, placing them on the table and gesturing to Xia Xiuyan. “However, if the Young Lord wants to know, I can cast hexagrams for you.”
Xia Xiuyan stared at the copper coins on the table. After a long silence, he suddenly said: “Do you remember when I first met you?”
Qiu Xinran didn’t know why he brought this up and answered instinctively: “Probably that time in the Imperial Garden?”
“Correct. You said then that my father had the fate of dying with his city.”
Qiu Xinran’s face showed a trace of embarrassment: “This… I don’t remember.”
Xia Xiuyan drank two cups of wine. Seeming to feel warm, he removed the fur coat draped on him and set it aside, revealing the moon-white brocade robe underneath. Like a noble youth who’d wandered into the marketplace, sitting behind this screen, he seemed completely out of place with his surroundings. Two years later, Qiu Xinran heard him say calmly: “Everyone says your divinations are never wrong, but I’ve never believed it.”
She opened her mouth, momentarily not knowing what to say. She remembered that group of young men at the academy—only Xia Xiuyan had never asked her to divine anything, not even as a joke.
“Divination—believing is up to each person.” Qiu Xinran said with difficulty. Thinking about it, she added: “For example… when I divine for myself, it’s mostly not very accurate.”
Perhaps the consoling meaning in her words was too obvious. Xia Xiuyan laughed briefly. When he only lifted the corners of his lips in a smile, his expression seemed cold. After a while, Qiu Xinran heard him say: “I hope Shi Meng achieves great victory, not only for the common people…”
For what else? Qiu Xinran didn’t get to hear the second half of his sentence.
Hexagram signs would change. Qiu Xinran looked at the copper coins on the table, suddenly hoping she was wrong. Being a charlatan wasn’t bad—if the results could make everyone happy.
The New Year in the palace wasn’t peaceful. Not long after the year began, before the Northwest war situation was resolved, military intelligence also came from the Southwest. The Prince of Anjiang had died. He went suddenly. The heir in his household to inherit the title was not yet determined. At this chaotic juncture, a local band of roving bandits took the opportunity to rise up. General Zheng, while sending people to garrison the city, also dispatched forces to lead troops to suppress the bandits and quell the rebellion. Emperor Xuande also specially permitted Zheng Yuanwu to leave the capital and rush to the Southwest to share his father’s concerns.
On the day Zheng Yuanwu left, she heard everyone specially went to see him off. Qiu Xinran didn’t go. When Zhou Xianyi returned and told her about the day’s events, she learned that Xia Xiuyan hadn’t gone either.
“The Seventh Princess did go, but she hid herself alone in the wine tower and refused to come out. After Young Lord Zheng left, she chased after him with red eyes, but by then everyone had already gone far—she didn’t catch up in the end.” Zhou Xianyi sighed deeply as he told her. “The Second Prince thought she was disgraceful, scolded her, and brought her back to the palace. The siblings argued the whole way. Ah, we all know the Second Prince is actually doing it for her own good. This year the Imperial Consort will begin formally arranging her marriage. Since Young Lord Zheng has no feelings for her, it’s better he left. After New Year, the Second and Third Princes will also be like the First Prince, beginning to learn about handling government affairs. They’ll come to the academy less often. You stopped coming long ago too. Everyone’s scattered.” Speaking to the end, he couldn’t help feeling somewhat melancholy.
Qiu Xinran didn’t know how to console him. She couldn’t help but realize in a daze—this was already her third year in Chang’an. Finally she could only comfort: “There are no banquets in the world that never end. Xianyi will also pursue your own future in the days to come.”