With a thump, a head tumbled out and landed square in Ning Yi’s hand, lime powder scattering wildly across the courtyard.

A moment later, Ning Yi held the severed head up for a look, and in the afternoon light, a chorus of screams erupted, sending chickens flapping and dogs scattering in every direction.

—This scene unfolded in the small courtyard of the Qin residence. Ning Yi had come to attend a banquet, accompanied by his wife Tan’er and his maid Xiao Chan. The courtyard was rather crowded at the time—besides the maids carrying boxes and luggage, Madam Qin had come out to greet the guests, and Qin Siyuan himself had appeared at the side gate of the courtyard, accompanied by his eldest son. Not far off, a fine-featured young officer stood staring in bewilderment at a burly man who came charging over from the other direction, trying to catch a falling box.

Today’s banquet had come about because Old Qin had received word the day before that his second son, Qin Shaoqian, would be arriving home this afternoon—and now, with his arrival confirmed, he’d invited Ning Yi and his wife over. It was meant partly as a welcome-home feast, but the main reason was that Ning Yi had saved Old Qin’s life, a debt of enormous gratitude. Though Old Qin himself had kept his feelings mostly private, not making too much of a show of it, his sons—both Qin Shaohe and Qin Shaoqian—felt it only proper to formally express their thanks for what had happened. Since Ning Yi and Old Qin were already on close, informal terms despite the age gap between them, it made sense to hold this gathering in the form of a family dinner, marking the growing closeness between the two households.

This, then, would be Ning Yi’s very first meeting with this Qin Shaoqian.

For Tan’er, being invited to dine at the Qin household this time felt like a genuinely momentous occasion. Though she’d accompanied Ning Yi to pay a New Year’s visit to the Qin residence a few months earlier, back then Ning Yi had mostly been visiting the old man simply as a chess companion.

Tan’er was someone who understood the weight of things properly. She knew the old man was learned, and likely held considerable standing besides, but in the past, admiring these men of letters had mostly meant looking forward to the kind of gentlemanly friendship her husband shared with them—when paying visits, she’d simply thought of herself as the dutiful wife, harboring no ulterior motives of her own. This time, though, things inevitably felt a little different.

For one thing, she now understood far more clearly just how illustrious the old man’s past really had been—something she’d only fully pieced together after meeting Qin Shaohe. A former Minister of Personnel—in her mind, that put him just one step below the Emperor himself, a title that practically left her dizzy just hearing it. It was rather like a modern Chinese person suddenly discovering they were personally acquainted with a member of the Politburo Standing Committee.

On top of that, Qin Shaohe had exchanged a few words with her during their previous meeting, adopting a notably humble manner at the time—knowing that the Su family was in trade, and that Su Tan’er herself was effectively at the helm of the business, he’d naturally offered a few warm, sincere remarks. In official circles, this kind of language served as a clear signal, and Su Tan’er, of course, understood exactly what it meant—that going forward, the Su family’s business would enjoy at least some measure of protection from Qin Shaohe, particularly within Jiangzhou.

In truth, Qin Shaohe hadn’t really been dispensing some grand favor, nor was Su Tan’er the type to fall over herself with gratitude over the slightest hint of one. But much like how, that day, she’d been delighted to have a prefect as a patron and connection, she’d since come to fully appreciate just how well-positioned the Qin family truly was—which meant the Su family, from here on out, was in a different league entirely compared to ordinary households. And so today, before heading out, she’d dressed herself with unusual care and elegance, spending nearly half the afternoon fussing over her appearance in her room, like some young girl getting ready for a big occasion. Ning Yi had watched from the sidelines, both exasperated and amused—Tan’er had, after all, received a proper upbringing befitting a young lady of good family, and when left to her own natural composure, she carried a certain refined, elegant air about her without even trying. All this extra fussing, ironically, only made her look younger, somewhat burying that natural air of calm, confident poise beneath it.

Still, it was rather charming in its own way.

As it turned out, the moment the three of them arrived, they happened to coincide with the Qin family’s second son returning home as well, and the household’s maids and servants were all busy hauling luggage inside. One of the little maids accompanying Ning Yi’s group came trotting in carrying an upright, elongated box, and a burly, bearded man in the courtyard immediately called out at the sight of her, shouting as he came rushing over: “Careful, careful! Cui’er, watch out…”

This diligent little maid named Cui’er, her view blocked by the long box she was carrying, froze in place at the sudden shout, spinning around in confused circles. “Huh? What… what? What did Second Master say?” Ning Yi, meaning well, reached out to try to steady her, while the bearded man came rushing over from the other side as well. In the ensuing chaos, the top compartment of the long box suddenly popped open, and something round, like a ball, tumbled out. Ning Yi reflexively caught it with one hand, only to have lime powder scatter everywhere—for a moment he genuinely thought he’d been ambushed, though fortunately the powder wasn’t especially thick.

For a good while, the courtyard descended into total chaos. Someone shouted, “Head, head, head, head, head…” while someone else cried out, “It’s a-a-a-a head…”—both drawing the words out in alarm. The bearded man looked rather awkward, seeming to want to take the object from Ning Yi’s hands, hesitating over what exactly to say, and just as he finally worked up the nerve to reach out, the little maid holding the box, who had craned her neck forward several times to peek at what was inside, suddenly realized exactly what she’d been carrying and rolled her eyes back, collapsing rigidly to the ground. The bearded man scrambled to catch her. “Xiao Cui, Xiao Cui, don’t faint on me now, I told you not to carry it…”

Holding a severed human head in one’s bare hand was, unsurprisingly, not the most pleasant sensation—especially one-handed as it was. Fortunately, Ning Yi’s composure held firm; after holding the head for a good while, he even turned it around to take a proper look, then nodded, glancing over at the bearded man now holding the fainted little maid. “This is the assassin’s head…”

What he now held in his hand was, in fact, the head of the burly man whose eye had been blinded when the fire-lance had burst at the breach. Ning Yi knew well enough how formidable these men had been; he’d already made inquiries with Lu A’Gui earlier, and had come to suspect that at least one among them might rival Lu Hongti herself in martial skill. This man’s name was Lu Tuo—not actually a Liao national at all, but a notorious bandit from the south, known by the moniker “the Fierce King of Hell,” a man who’d killed officials and led rebellions, later said to have been brought under someone’s control and vanished from view entirely.

That this group of Liao men had managed to escape at all was largely thanks to sympathetic Liao-aligned forces operating covertly behind the scenes. It seemed likely that a fighter of Lu Tuo’s caliber had been sent along specifically to protect them. These past weeks, the men had vanished without a trace—yet somehow, Qin Shaoqian, on nothing more than a brief trip home to visit family, had managed to bring back their heads.

Ning Yi had previously heard that this Qin Shaoqian held a minor deputy position within the military, essentially a sinecure with nothing much to show for it. Looking at things now, it seemed both of Old Qin’s sons were, in fact, rather formidable men in their own right.

As Ning Yi held the severed head up for inspection, Qin Siyuan had already made his way over, and Ning Yi showed it to him as well. The old man showed not the slightest fear at the sight of a dead man’s head, merely frowning as he studied it for a moment before nodding at Ning Yi—confirming it was indeed one of the assassins from that day. Qin Shaohe’s face lit up with pleasure, while the bearded Qin Shaoqian, still holding the fainted maid, laughed heartily. “Ha ha, so it really is them. These reckless idiots, fleeing without watching where they went, gave themselves away somewhere south of Xuzhou near Crow Mountain—as luck would have it, I happened to be passing through right then. Rallied a group of local militiamen and beat them to death on the spot, ha ha ha ha! Though one nasty fellow covered in scars did manage to get away, damn it all…”

At this point, glancing over at his father nearby and his mother standing not far off, he quickly corrected himself. “That—that son of a—! Never mind, we’ll catch him eventually…”

Qin Shaohe rubbed his chin. “The one who got away, called Lu Tuo, was the toughest one to deal with, but he wasn’t part of the assassination attempt that day. The other three, all dead?”

The bearded Qin Shaoqian nodded. “Of course. Ah, Xiao Hu, come here, put this fellow’s head back in the box, Mother doesn’t like looking at these things… I told you, once they were dead, they were dead, why’d you have to go and get some brilliant idea of bringing the head back to show off? They tried to assassinate our father—this is a matter for the authorities to handle officially, and bringing the head back like this just turns it into some kind of personal vendetta. Won’t do that again next time… actually, no, there won’t be a next time… Father, this really wasn’t my idea, I swear…”

Qin Siyuan looked at his son and let out a sigh, while Qin Shaohe wore an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. The refined-looking young man addressed as Xiao Hu hurried over to take the head, placing it back into the box—which was, at this point, still being held in the arms of the maid Xiao Cui, who had begun to stir groggily in Qin Shaoqian’s arms. She blinked her eyes open, then, catching sight of the box, went rigid, her head lolling to the side as she promptly fainted again. This set off another round of chaos, with people rushing over to help hold her up and press acupressure points to revive her. Qin Shaoqian frowned, troubled. “This… this really can’t be good for her health, right? Should we call for a physician…” Having spent so much time in the military, he’d grown entirely accustomed to death, but faced with a delicate little maid like this, he found himself at something of a loss, worried he might frighten her into an actual illness.

After this bit of chaotic commotion, with everyone soon properly introduced, the earlier awkwardness melted away. Qin Shaoqian was considerably younger than his elder brother Qin Shaohe, only just past thirty this year—apparently there had once been another brother between them, who had died in infancy shortly after birth. With his full beard, he looked rugged and unrefined at first glance, though his eyes and facial features actually carried a rather youthful quality; clean-shaven, he might well have passed for a scholarly, baby-faced general type. The young man accompanying him, named Xu Xiaohu, was tall and fine-featured, and according to Qin Shaoqian possessed remarkable martial skill—which was why he was always dragged along whenever brawls broke out in camp, and the two had become sworn brothers through it all.

Though Qin Shaoqian tried, through his manner of speech, to present himself as a rough-and-tumble military man, in Ning Yi’s eyes, the bearing and demeanor of both men felt rather different from that of typical rank-and-file soldiers. He wasn’t especially familiar with military men of this era, but he sensed as much all the same.

Afterward, Madam Qin invited Ning Yi to a side room to wash his hands—understandably enough, given that he’d just been holding a dead man’s head, along with a fair amount of lime powder and other unpleasant residue, and it would take several rounds of washing to get properly clean. Tan’er followed along as well, insisting on helping wash the filth from Ning Yi’s hands herself. Ever since catching sight of that severed head, she’d been standing beside him with her lips pressed tightly together, putting on a brave face through sheer will. Ning Yi, feeling his hands were a bit grimy at this point, felt somewhat guilty at having her insist on washing them for him, and said with a smile that he could manage it himself—but Tan’er simply shook her head.

Having dressed herself with such careful elegance today, she shook her head with her red lips pressed tightly together, clearly holding herself together with considerable effort, and nonetheless took up a cloth to wipe the lime powder from Ning Yi’s hands first. Puzzled, Ning Yi wondered for a moment whether this was meant to demonstrate their marital devotion in front of the Qin family, but glancing around, aside from Xiao Chan waiting by the door to fetch fresh water, none of the Qin family members were actually present at the moment. Before he could think much further on it, Tan’er had already pulled his hand into the water basin, taking up the osmanthus-scented soap beside it to wash his hands thoroughly. After one round, she changed the water, then changed it again several more times—each time washing not just his hands, but her own as well.

Ning Yi asked her about it several times, puzzled, before she finally, with some visible distress, admitted, “That… that was a severed head, it looked frightening…”

“Mm.”

Tan’er pressed her lips together. “If husband touched that thing with your hand, and then touches me tonight with it, your concubine… will feel goosebumps rising all over, I just know it…”

“Er… and that’s why you insisted on washing it yourself?”

Even here, in someone else’s home, bringing up something like Ning Yi’s hand touching her body later that night left Tan’er’s face flushing slightly, though she kept her head lowered. “Washing it this way myself means I’ll know for certain your hands are properly clean—I’ll have already prepared myself mentally, and won’t be afraid of it tonight anymore…”

Ning Yi blinked in mild surprise, then broke into a smile. Su Tan’er’s temperament really was different from most women—if Ning Yi had simply washed his own hands, no matter how many times he did it, she’d probably still feel his hands weren’t quite clean. There was simply no getting around it; to overcome that mental block, she’d had to physically wash his hands together with her own—using the same basin of water, ensuring that she and Ning Yi had gone through exactly the same process together, so that mental barrier could finally dissolve. Watching her pale, slender fingers, already washed several times over in the water and still scrubbing away, Ning Yi felt genuinely moved.

After a few more rounds of washing, things were more or less settled by the time Qin Shaohe and Qin Shaoqian came in through the door, both laughing. After exchanging greetings, Qin Shaoqian gave Ning Yi a hearty clap on the shoulder. “Truly sorry about earlier—but Brother Ning, you really are a man of nerve, I’ll say that much. I’ve never once seen a refined, delicate scholar type hold onto a severed head like that without so much as a flinch. Well, it was a Liao head anyway, so we might as well think of it as a mongrel’s head, ha ha.”

“One simply grits one’s teeth and endures,” Ning Yi said with a smile, clasping his hands together in a polite gesture. “Though, Brother Qin mentioned earlier that those men were beaten to death by local militiamen—I suspect that particular detail might not be entirely accurate.”

He hadn’t been entirely sure of this himself, only testing the waters a little by watching Qin Shaoqian’s expression as he spoke. Sure enough, once he’d posed the question, Qin Shaoqian burst out laughing, and Qin Shaohe joined in with a smile as well. “Father did say Liheng has a sharp eye—turns out it’s true. This little troublemaker’s always been fond of playing with swords and spears, and this time it actually came in handy.” By now Qin Shaohe was nearing forty himself, and Qin Shaoqian was already past thirty, yet he still referred to his younger brother as “this little troublemaker”—which said quite a lot about the usual dynamic between the two Qin brothers.

Qin Shaoqian gave a wry, half-amused smile at this. “Ha, lucky for him he died at my hands this time—otherwise, if I ever get the chance, I swear I’ll march straight into Liao and wipe out his entire clan.” As he said this, a flash of genuine violence crossed his face, his still-youthful features momentarily taking on something of the same commanding gravity his father carried. But that fierce aura had barely settled before it dissolved into a wince, as his elder brother, having just given him an approving clap on the shoulder, seemed to have hit something—and whatever it was, it instantly changed his expression entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Qin Shaohe asked, puzzled.

“B-big brother… I’ve got an injury on my back…” Qin Shaoqian sucked in a sharp breath, then lifted a finger to point at his shoulder. Qin Shaohe pulled back his collar to take a look. “Badly hurt? You…”

“Don’t tell mother, don’t tell mother…” the bearded Qin Shaoqian hissed, waving his hands frantically despite the pain, keeping his voice low. “Damn it, it was just me and Xiao Hu at the time, these Liao dogs weren’t easy to kill—took a blade to the back before we finally traded their three lives for it. Ohhh, ow ow ow, worth it though, but damn it hurts. Whatever you do, don’t tell mother—I didn’t even dare put on strong enough medicine, afraid she’d smell it. Brother Ning, could you help me keep this quiet too? Nothing scares me more than mother crying…”

Qin Shaohe frowned. “An injury that serious, and you’re planning to stay home for several days on top of it—mother worries about you more than anyone, how could you possibly keep something like this hidden from her?”

“J-just gotta grit my teeth and bear it…”

That had been exactly what Ning Yi had said moments earlier, and hearing Qin Shaoqian parrot it back now with a pained grimace sent the whole room into laughter, laughter mixed with no small amount of genuine admiration. Ning Yi remembered that he still had some wound medicine at home, left behind by Lu Hongti, effective for external injuries and without too strong a smell, and offered to have some sent over that evening. Qin Shaoqian, open and easygoing by nature, expressed his gratitude once again.

The group then made their way toward the sitting room, but they’d only gone halfway when they spotted Yun Niang passing by from the other direction, carrying some items along with two other women. Both Qin Shaohe and Qin Shaoqian addressed her warmly as “Aunt Yun,” clearly on good terms with this concubine of their father’s, who was likewise in her thirties. But the two women accompanying Yun Niang left Ning Yi momentarily taken aback—one was Nie Yunzhu, the other Yuan Jin’er. Since this family banquet was meant partly as an expression of gratitude, and Yun Zhu’s relationship with the Qin household was already quite good, it made sense they’d been invited along—though Ning Yi hadn’t actually known about it beforehand, and seeing them now, they looked, oddly enough, almost like members of the Qin household themselves, helping prepare for the evening’s feast.

Yun Niang, apparently having other matters to attend to, made only brief introductions before heading toward the rear courtyard with the two women. Tan’er, of course, recognized Yuan Jin’er, but in someone else’s household, she was careful not to show any curiosity. Yun Zhu, catching sight of them, looked as though she’d already known Ning Yi would be here today—in the brief moment when Tan’er wasn’t looking, she flashed Ning Yi a mischievous, teasing little smile, then offered a proper, composed bow before heading off toward the rear courtyard as well.

A short while later, in the sitting room, after a bit of conversation with Old Qin, Yun Zhu and the others came by again, and this time Ning Yi clearly caught Qin Siyuan himself wearing a faintly mischievous smile as well. Ning Yi couldn’t help but feel a bit exasperated—the old man was well aware of his relationship with Nie Yunzhu, and the troubles it caused him; he’d often teased Ning Yi in the past for worrying over nothing, but he also clearly held Nie Yunzhu herself in some genuine regard. This casual invitation to dinner today left Ning Yi feeling rather as though he’d just walked into one of the old man’s carefully calculated moves, the kind he liked to spring during their usual games of chess.

In their regular matches, Ning Yi tended to play aggressively, sometimes taking unconventional routes, sometimes making bold, sweeping moves—his style was always distinctive and easy to read. The old man, by contrast, played with calm, measured balance, holding steadily to the center. And yet this time, with a single move, he’d managed to apply a pressure that felt genuinely inescapable—while at the same time doing it so subtly, so gently, that there was no real way to be annoyed about it at all…