Despite everything she’d already been through, working with Cheng Zhouhai on the plan and using herself as bait to ambush a grandmaster of fearsome reputation had still been, for Qu Longjun, an utterly unfamiliar and deeply nerve-wracking experience.

Especially once Tunyun’s skill had come fully into play, malice bearing down on her — even as she fled, Qu Longjun had been able to feel, with perfect clarity, an overwhelming terror and the threat of death, as if she were prey encountering a natural predator on an open plain. By Cheng Zhouhai’s and Yue Fei’s account, if she’d been caught even once, that life would simply have ended right there. Thinking of it now, all she could do was grit her teeth and endure.

Once the plan succeeded and Tunyun was killed before everyone’s eyes, and Ning Ji fell briefly unconscious, she’d still had to deal with everyone else — helping the army physician bandage Ning Ji, wiping down his body, and once he woke, soothing him with the professional skills she’d learned in her past life. It was only once she was certain he was no longer angry that the fear and helplessness finally came surging up all at once, and she’d thrown herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

If the apologies and the cajoling before had carried a little performance in them, then this crying was, through and through, a genuine outpouring of feeling.

Two young people in the bloom of youth held each other, confirming each other’s survival and the preciousness of reality — only afterward could they truly grasp that, in that short span of an afternoon, amid such violent upheaval, they had accomplished something so tremendous.

The monk Tunyun — at last, he was dead.

The evening light gradually broke into fragments of gold across the courtyard, spilling in through the open window as well. The two of them kissed on the bed, on and on without end, and when they finally pulled apart, Ning Ji, still holding her, went so far as to explore a little what “punishment” might mean — after facing life and death, with the budding affections of youth on top of it, it all followed naturally enough, though both of their faces burned red. Ning Ji pulled at his wound and Qu Longjun immediately lay across him, forbidding him to move.

Ning Ji praised her for how well she’d planned everything, resolving even a menace like Tunyun in one clean stroke.

“…Honestly, it was all Mister Cheng’s arrangement… A lot of the time it looks like he’s discussing things with you, but by the time he actually speaks, you realize there was never really a better option to begin with… Little Long, we’re still nowhere near a match for him…”

“Hmph, well, that’s nothing unusual — even my father finds him troublesome,” Ning Ji said, put out, though he couldn’t help but sigh afterward. “When it comes down to it, back at old Master Qin’s estate all those years ago, the most formidable people there were just him and a few others.”

As a headstrong young man, Ning Ji hadn’t much liked Cheng Zhouhai from the start; but as a soldier, looking back from the end to the beginning, the man really had seized on the one and only weakness Tunyun had shown this time, and the whole affair, violent and swift as it had been, had ended with the closing of the net on this supremely skilled scoundrel carried out cleanly and efficiently. Yue Fei’s Somersault Fist, combined with the spear of that big man who’d barely needed to lift a finger — even if Ning Ji himself had never made it there in time, Tunyun would, in truth, never have gotten away.

Once death was certain, the pieces were swept up neatly.

As someone standing on his side, a strategist with results like this to show, Ning Ji had no choice but to admit the man’s skill. Aside from the fact that the two of them had been scared half out of their wits themselves, hands and legs gone weak, with nothing to say for it…

Her mind at ease, Qu Longjun talked with Ning Ji for a while, then, nestled in his arms, fell into a deep sleep. The setting sun gradually shifted from gold to deep crimson; lying in this courtyard, the faint sounds of unrest outside could no longer be heard. Once she was fast asleep, Ning Ji quietly got up from the bed, went out into the courtyard, and caught the faint scent of smoke and cooking fire. He passed through the still-unrepaired, collapsed courtyard gate and saw, in the courtyard next door, a figure sitting beneath the eaves, building a fire, skewering two pieces of meat on tree branches to roast over it. Looking around, the tall man who had protected Qu Longjun during the fight was nowhere in sight.

“This is the first time I’ve ever lit a fire to grill meat inside the Princess Imperial’s residence. I mulled it over a long while before I finally mentioned it to Zhao Xiaosong — quite embarrassing, really.” The man grilling the meat sprinkled on some spices, speaking as he did, under the setting sun.

Ning Ji cupped his hands. “Uncle… Uncle Yue.”

“Ah, come sit.” Yue Fei waved him over, motioning for him to sit on the step beside him. After a while, he finally spoke. “…Back when the Jurchen swept south, I was conscripted and served under your father’s command — learned a great deal from him. This method of grilling meat was one of the things he taught. The spice blend the Bamboo Chronicle used always got a man’s appetite going — you needed a bit more strength going into battle to kill the enemy… I wonder if the recipe still used in the Southwest army today tastes anything like this.”

“Somewhat similar.”

“Then it’s probably been changed many times over by now.” Yue Fei laughed, then sighed and lifted his head. “That was back in the thirteenth, fourteenth year of the Jinghan era — you’d only just been born when the Jurchen came pouring in… Master Ning went north; there wasn’t even time to give you a name. After the Battle of Xia Village, once Bianliang’s first siege was lifted, we all went back to the capital, so happy — I went to your home and held you in my arms once. Lady Xiao Chan prepared us a great spread of food. The unity and warmth among everyone back then — it’s right in front of my eyes even now. That was the most exhilarating time of my whole life. I believed that serving under Master Ning, we could actually save this world…”

“…”

“…Not long after, things took a sharp turn. Chancellor Qin was thrown in prison, and Master Ning… did the most unexpected thing… It was strange — we’d only just finished fighting the Jurchen together, and many people were still protesting the injustice done to Chancellor Qin. He was going to kill the emperor, and yet he didn’t bring me along — in fact, thinking back on it, before he had me transferred elsewhere, he never gave me even the slightest hint. For a time I felt rather low, thinking Master Ning had never truly opened his heart to me…”

“My father’s said a few times — he knew your character, knew you’d never rebel alongside him.”

“Yes.” Yue Fei laughed. “Thinking back on it since, I’ve come to feel that Master Ning truly understood me better than anyone. My own nature is a stubborn, old-fashioned one — even now, I still can’t quite agree with what he did. And yet, thinking it over again and again, he’s remained, all my life, the most extraordinary man I’ve ever known… Ah, and in the blink of an eye, sixteen years have passed. Regicide, rebellion, condemned by all the world — and your own skill has already made you one of the finest fighters in the martial world.”

Under the setting sun, Ning Ji looked at the military commander of the Martial Dynasty beside him, still caught up in his reflections: a man in his thirties, years of campaigning having left the same small, scattered scars on his face that were common enough in the Southwest as well. His features had once carried a striking heroic air, and now showed, more than anything, a steadiness that put people at ease. And yet, in the firelight of the grill, Ning Ji thought he could faintly make out, once more, the presence of some young officer, smiling naturally, at ease, and full of quiet vigor.

Back in the Southwest, whenever his father assessed the great heroes of the realm, Yue Fei had always been the figure he spoke most highly of — and, faintly, Ning Ji could even catch a note of respect in his father’s tone. That was, of course, rather strange — when the two of them had served together, Yue Fei had been just one of the more outstanding lower-ranking officers his father could deploy. Given everything his father had been through, his attitude toward Yue Fei was truly singular, and because of that, a special impression of him had lodged itself in Ning Ji’s heart as well.

They reminisced a good while longer in the fading light. Each took a piece of meat, and as they ate, walked slowly out toward the outer edges of the Princess Imperial’s residence. Only then did the man begin to speak of what had changed within the city.

“…While you were sleeping, more or less everything, big and small, going on in the city had already come to a close… Pu Xinguī, Chen Shuangran, together with Cao Jinlong and their band of outlaws, attacked the Yucheng Granary in the north of the city — but thanks to Mister Cheng’s planning, it didn’t stir up much of a storm.”

“Did they catch them?”

“Pu Xinguī is dead. Chen Shuangran and Cao Jinlong got away…”

“…”

Ning Ji went slightly still.

Holding their grilled meat, the two of them climbed up onto the outer wall of the residence, one behind the other. The setting sun dyed everything near and far across the city red; in his field of view, smoke was rising from two buildings, and fire-brigade teams had already gone past, mopping up the last of the city’s disturbances.

“Pu Xinguī doesn’t matter… Chen Shuangran and Cao Jinlong got away — is there something suspicious about that?” he asked.

“There’s no way to say for certain yet, but Mister Cheng has his own plans for it.” Yue Fei smiled. “Right now, both inside and outside the city, this batch of rebels has basically lost. Pu Xinguī’s been dealt with by the law, Chen Shuangran’s plans have failed, and His Majesty’s taking of a new consort has gone through smoothly. Once word of this gets out, there won’t be any major disturbance to be had in Fujian anymore — and on top of that, the news is already being spread through the city: how the Sun Wukong you’ve been playing wiped out the grandmaster Fan Zhong outside the city yesterday, and how the young hero Long Aotian struck down the monk Tunyun at the Princess Imperial’s residence today. Plenty of people out there in the martial world are going to have to fold up their banners after this — you two are about to become famous throughout the land.”

“…Huh?” Ning Ji blinked. Sun Wukong killing Fan Zhong, Long Aotian killing Tunyun — something this good?

“Oh, right — there’s also an illustration prepared.”

Yue Fei smiled and pulled out a sheet of rice paper from inside his robe. Ning Ji unfolded it and saw, drawn on it in simple, bold strokes, a scene of two young heroes striking down two ferocious villains — though you couldn’t make out anyone’s actual face, the style was the kind that stuck in your memory the moment you laid eyes on it. Ning Ji, naturally, could tell right away that this was the kind of illustration that, once woodblock-printed, could be run in the newspapers.

“Mister Cheng prepared this in advance. It’s already been sent off to be carved into blocks — I’d guess by tomorrow you’ll be able to see it printed in the papers…”

Ning Ji held the picture, his mouth hanging open, so happy he nearly felt dizzy — but then he thought of something. “Wait, that’s not right… right before he died, Tunyun shouted your name at the top of his lungs, Uncle Yue… if a lot of people heard that…”

“By the time the papers are printed, most people won’t want to believe it anyway — there will always be someone claiming that I happened to arrive and beat Tunyun to death myself. Let them debate it, let them guess. It won’t do any real harm to the big picture.”

Only then did Ning Ji nod, holding the picture, unwilling to let it go, his eyes brimming with hot tears. In the more than a year since he’d left home, he’d endured no end of slander and false accusation — this was the first time he’d been shown in a positive light in something like this. He wondered how proud his father and mother would be when the news made it back to the Southwest… And then he thought back to that morning, to himself humbly begging Cheng Zhouhai for help, when the man had put on that infuriating “none of my business” act — could this illustration have already been sitting in his robe even then? At the thought, he suddenly found Cheng Zhouhai not quite so infuriating after all.

“So… where is Cheng Zhouhai now…”

“He’s still got a great deal of cleanup work to do. And besides — he’s a little afraid of you.”

“Heh heh… I’m not that unreasonable…”

“Ha ha.” Yue Fei laughed, then led Ning Ji onward. Before Ning Ji realized it, they’d arrived at the back gate of the Princess Imperial’s residence.

“I came here for two reasons — first, to help deal with Fan Zhong and Tunyun teaming up, and second, because I wanted to see the son of an old friend. Now that everything’s been settled, I’ll be heading north again tomorrow. Before Mister Cheng left, he asked me to pass along two things to you…”

They got into a carriage and left the residence. By now the sun had set; scattered points of firelight were coming to life along the streets of Fuzhou. As the carriage passed through the streets, Ning Ji could hear, amid the noise of passersby, no end of talk about how the rebels had already lost. In his heart he felt things couldn’t possibly be that simple, but for the moment he didn’t feel like dwelling on it further. The residence’s carriage crossed two streets and stopped in front of a courtyard not far off; Yue Fei led him inside, passing along Cheng Zhouhai’s message.

“…The first thing Mister Cheng left for you — although Tunyun is dead, there’s now only one other person out there in the martial world who knows the truth about you, and might care about it: Chen Shuangran.”

“…As for the matter of Chen Shuangran, Mister Cheng has his own plans. What he wants me to tell you is: don’t act rashly for the time being. He should have this resolved before too long.”

“All right. Understood.”

“As for the second thing — it’s right here.”

In a modest courtyard stood an unassuming little house. Yue Fei pushed the door open and stepped inside. In the oil-lamp-lit room were several people; one of them was the tall man from before — this was Gao Chong of the Beikui Army — and another was a woman in plain clothes and a simple thorn hairpin, sitting by the bedside, fanning the person lying there with a bamboo fan. Ning Ji made out the figure on the bed and hesitated slightly before walking over.

It was Zuo Xingzhou.

He lay there with his eyes closed, half his face wrapped in bandages, clearly hiding some ghastly wound. Ning Ji went to his side, first reaching out to check his breathing and pulse, then lifted the thin blanket covering him. Beneath it, Zuo Xingzhou was missing one hand and both legs.

“He…”

“He may never wake up again.”

Wherever there is war, there must be a price paid.

Ning Ji sat down in the chair by the bed, his fists clenched, pressed against his knees. He looked at the man in silence.

Tears fell.

There must be pitiable souls out there who, though grown, still keep a childlike heart, right?

Well then — may you all have a good day today too.