That single remark sent a cold sweat crawling up Liu Ling’s entire back.

The accumulated ills at the frontier ran deep. His father the Emperor, resolved on reform, had seen him off with nothing but words of encouragement to give it everything he had. A blight this long in the making — how could a young man be expected to untangle it?

Yet the Emperor had told him not to hold back — to strike with full force — which obviously meant he was prepared to use his son as a blade.

If he, a prince without power or influence, refused to be the blade and insisted on playing the sage instead, cultivating a reputation for virtue and wisdom — was he trying to compete for glory with the Crown Prince?

Once that had been made plain to him, the imperial blade had been drawn and bloodied. Sure enough, all along the way, memorial after memorial impeaching Liu Ling had been sent up — yet no imperial decree of censure had ever come down from the Emperor.

What no one had anticipated was that the real Emperor hadn’t made his move, but the local tyrants had stirred up their own commotion. Today’s ambush — if it weren’t for Situ Sheng’s formidable skills, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Thinking of Situ Sheng’s calm composure in the face of crisis, Liu Ling felt his admiration for his teacher grow to the point of prostration. He naturally needed to consult him on how to proceed.

His own inclination was to have the Prefect apprehend the criminals and get out of this trouble spot as soon as possible. The imperial mission was mostly accomplished, and the Sixth Prince also wanted to return to the capital, file his report, and sleep soundly.

But Situ Sheng said: “Lianzhou has much fine local cuisine, and there are mountain hot springs in the region. Your Highness might consider lingering a few days — it would do well to ease the mind.”

Upon hearing this, Liu Ling’s spirits immediately lifted. He was only eighteen this year, with a young man’s restless heart. The whole journey had been nothing but presiding over trials and taking heads — a grim reaper’s errand. It was a rare chance to be out of the palace; if he could unwind and rest easy, nothing could be better.

On such a matter of leisurely pleasure, the Sixth Prince relaxed entirely and found himself in the mood for a little idle conversation with his Junior Preceptor.

“Today was truly dangerous. It’s fortunate we ran into that Prefectural Judge’s wife. Who would have thought you’d find such a graceful and beautiful woman out here on the frontier… What a pity she’s already married…”

Situ Sheng glanced at the Sixth Prince’s expression of wistful regret, and said lightly: “If Your Highness finds the nights long and lonely, you might ask the Prefect to arrange a banquet, and there will be no shortage of carefully selected beauties to attend and soothe Your Highness’s weariness.”

This was not the kind of thing a proper teacher ought to be saying to his student — it sounded more like the bad suggestions of a dissolute classmate.

Situ Sheng was not a man of indulgence. Liu Ling had heard from the attendants around him that when Mr. Situ was not giving lessons, he lived on simple food and plain tea, dull and austere in his habits. He never joined the guards for a drink, and he never visited the pleasure quarters.

His features were refined and scholarly, and even speaking these words now, his face remained expressionless, his gaze on the Sixth Prince placid and level. Even saying something so outrageous, there was not the slightest air of invitation to pleasure — only a faint, quiet irony.

The Sixth Prince had been looked down upon by palace servants from childhood, and was especially proud and sensitive about it. He snapped awake: he was receiving his father the Emperor’s trust for the very first time, handling official duties — how could he be negligent, and lose himself in fleeting pleasures?

Liu Ling dismissed all thought of savoring the looks and charm of the local official’s wife, and simply waved his hand to indicate he had official business to attend to and no interest in women, urging the Junior Preceptor not to worry on his behalf.

Once those words were said, the Sixth Prince excused himself and went back to rest.

Situ Sheng returned to the window, gazing out at the drifting threads of willow-like snow. His long fingers drew out the single page of account records from his sleeve. He looked down at it, his expression cold and still.

When he raised his head again, a vivid flash of red suddenly appeared outside the window.

Chu Linlang, who had been searching everywhere for her lost item, was retracing her steps and casting her mind back — she was certain she had put that forged account page in her pocket. Even if it had fallen out, it could only have dropped somewhere in the carriage or inside the yamen.

But there had been no trace of it in the carriage. It must have fallen somewhere in the yamen. The thought of that account sheet falling into the hands of Zhang Xian or someone with ill intent made the trouble seem enormous.

The more she thought about it, the more goose-pimple-raising it seemed — and the feathery snow drifting down onto her already-sweating head turned to wisps of steam the moment it touched her.

She searched in circles for a while, then decided to call on the divine once more. She drew the divination tortoise shell from her pocket, shook it vigorously, and hoped to shake out some indication of a direction.

But today the tortoise shell seemed to have dug its heels in. One copper coin actually leapt free with a will of its own, rolled and clattered down the lane.

Chu Linlang rushed after it and crouched down to pick it up — and found a pair of boots, worn to a faint shabbiness from washing, directly before her.

She looked up. There was the handsome man — dressed in plain white — looking down at her with cold, expressionless eyes. The depth of that gaze, dark as a still pool at the bottom of a cliff, made you instinctively shrink from it and want to look away.

Chu Linlang’s instinct kicked in and she looked away quickly, rising to retreat. But before she had taken more than a few steps, the man came after her in long strides and spoke with easy familiarity: “I noticed the lady has been circling this area — may I ask what you are looking for? I wonder if I might be of any assistance.”

Chu Linlang had to stop and turn. She kept her gaze on the hem of the man’s long robe and curtsied: “I’ve lost a hairpin… nothing of value. I’ll find it on my own… please don’t trouble yourself, sir. Go about your business.”

Ordinarily, any decent man hearing those words from a married official’s wife would have taken the hint, kept a proper distance, and excused himself.

But the long robe before Chu Linlang didn’t budge. A cool voice drifted down to her through the falling snow: “The lady seemed to be searching with some urgency — it didn’t appear to be something so trifling…”

Hearing this, Chu Linlang raised her head slightly and looked directly into a pair of fathomless eyes. She steadied her breathing and said, calmly and without servility: “Sir’s meaning is… that I am deceiving you? I’ve lost something — it is not stolen goods for dividing among accomplices. Even if I truly had lost something of value, there’s no reason to conceal that from you, is there?”

If Situ Sheng had picked it up, he would certainly test Zhou Sui’an. And her husband knew nothing of any of this, so she need not fear him asking. All she had to do was wait for her husband to return.

If the forged account sheet had fallen into the prince’s hands, the trouble stretching ahead of her would be endless.

The matter, Zhou Sui’an said with a trace of impatience, waving his hand: “The Sixth Prince is still here in the area. Stop adding to the complications — go home at once. Whatever you’ve lost can be replaced later.”

At worst, Zhang Xian would learn that she had been bluffing. That was as bad as it could get.

At that moment, Situ Sheng spoke again: “I notice your accent is not local to Lianzhou — may I ask where you are from, Madam?”

The account sheet was a forgery — it could never be made genuine. And if the official seal on it was examined closely, a sharp eye could tell it from the real thing. If it came to that, she would simply deny the thing was hers — what could anyone do?

Chu Linlang was left standing there, the smile on her face slowly fading.

Those words were delivered with all the smooth, gratifying tact of a well-aimed compliment. Zhao Shi’s ears, which had seemed so deaf a moment before, suddenly worked perfectly again. She laughed and said to Liu Shi: “Fang has been sharp and clever since she was small — now she’s gentle and modest on top of it. She is just what I like. What a pity there was no connection between us back then… Ah, never mind, never mind, let’s not speak of it.”

This Situ by surname — she had heard the Prefect’s wife mention him more than once. He was said to be the Sixth Prince’s Junior Preceptor, the top third finisher in the palace examination two years prior. Though of humble origins, he was no ordinary talent, and had entered the Hanlin Academy quite young. Even so, with no backing or connections, his position in the Academy was nothing more than accompanying princes in chess and literary wordplay — an ornamental idle post.

The walk from the yamen back home was not especially long, yet it gave Chu Linlang enough time to sort through the tangle in her mind.

In the Sixth Prince’s deferential, unquestioning manner toward him, Chu Linlang saw clearly that this man knew how to navigate power and climb official ladders. He was far from the pure and lofty man of letters his outward appearance suggested.

With that thought in mind, Chu Linlang — typically so bold — decided simply not to think further, and to act as the moment required, rather than frightening herself with idle speculation.

Chu Linlang bowed her head in acknowledgment and went on her way first. After a few steps, she couldn’t help but look back — and saw Situ Sheng speaking with Zhou Sui’an, warm and courteous, his handsome face wearing a polite, slightly distant smile.

The words had been perfectly reasonable, yet Zhao Shi — her mother-in-law — seemed not to hear them, paid no attention at all, and went right on talking to her old friend Liu Shi, whom she hadn’t seen in a long time.

The young woman, hearing her, quickly rose and curtsied to Chu Linlang, murmuring softly: “Elder Sister, I hope you are well.”

As she stepped off the carriage, an elderly servant was already waiting at the gate: “My lady, the Old Madam has guests. She asked that you come to her when you return.”

She feared most that forged account sheet. What if this man had picked it up, and seeing her searching, had come over just now to test her with words?

Looking at this seemingly cultured man before her, Chu Linlang’s mind was on that moment of him dangling the Sixth Prince in one hand, face blank, swinging his blade at the attackers without hesitation — the brutality of it.

Then she took Yin Xuefang’s hand and said with a smile to her mother-in-law: “Mother, since she calls my husband her elder brother, should she not call me Sister-in-law? How did ‘elder sister’ come about?”

Chu Linlang turned and found that her husband, Zhou Sui’an, had appeared at some point without her noticing, cutting into their exchange.

Chu Linlang walked over, greeted her mother-in-law, and smilingly asked about the guests.

Afterward, no one quite knew how it had happened, but this Situ Sheng — a man of no connections — had risen steadily through the ranks, eventually becoming the Sixth Prince’s Junior Preceptor, and was now accompanying the Sixth Prince on this official inspection mission.

Zhao Shi spoke warmly to the somewhat shy-looking young woman: “Fang, come and meet your Zhou family elder brother’s wife. She is five years older than you — just call her Elder Sister.”

Before she had even stepped inside, she could hear women’s voices and soft laughter drifting out.

Right now, hearing the way Mr. Situ had spoken, she wasn’t sure how to read him. Was this a man drawn to her looks, making idle conversation as a pretext for flirtation — or were there words beneath his words, a careful, probing test?

Hearing it was the mother-in-law’s summons, Chu Linlang didn’t dare dawdle. She didn’t even stop to change her clothes — just untied her cloak and went directly to her mother-in-law Zhao Shi’s courtyard.

Chu Linlang’s thoughts were turning over rapidly: she had little fear of the former. After all, her husband held a proper official post as Prefectural Judge. And the Sixth Prince was here on legitimate imperial business. Even if Situ had that kind of audacity, he would never dare make advances at a local woman and tarnish the Sixth Prince’s reputation.

Yin Xuefang was quick to read the room. She immediately picked up the conversational thread: “I’ve long heard that Zhou’s elder brother found himself a beautiful wife — and seeing her now, it’s no exaggeration at all. She looks younger than me, Sister — if Zhao Madam hadn’t said so, I would have taken you for the younger one.”

Inside, besides her mother-in-law Zhao Shi, there was an unfamiliar woman and, seated at her side, a young woman with pleasant features.

Chu Linlang had just begun to say she was from the Jiangkou waterlands when someone spoke from behind her: “Why are you still here? Get home at once!”

As for the present situation — this woman had displayed a razor-sharp edge in her words, and Situ Sheng was unsurprised. He explained calmly: “I only wanted to help. Is my presence in the way, Madam?”

When this woman had held the Sixth Prince at hairpin-point, anyone watching could see the raw, stubborn streak in her bones. Yet that flash of ferocity had vanished like morning mist the moment she prostrated herself before the Sixth Prince — all delicate frailty and bonelessness.

Listening to her mother-in-law’s introduction, Chu Linlang learned that this mother and daughter were the family of Yin Yuanwai — an associate of her late father-in-law — and she promptly smiled and stepped forward to greet Yin Yuanwai’s wife, Liu Shi.

—