The weather had warmed, and the sky over Quecheng was brightening a little earlier each day than it had before.
Just past the mao hour, the city streets were already fully lit. Industrious vendors had finished sweeping and were waiting for the first customers of the morning.
A household servant, yawning early, slipped out to a back alley and found a secluded spot by a tree root, untied his trousers, and began to relieve himself.
He was only halfway through when he heard something stir directly above him. Dumbly, he looked up — and saw a dark shape drop from the sky, hitting the ground two paces away with a heavy thud.
The dust settled to reveal a disheveled, haggard figure with hair half-undone — on closer inspection, a woman in men’s clothing, her complexion quite grim.
Without so much as glancing at him, the woman walked out toward the main street with heavy steps. The servant stood there staring with his mouth open and did not notice until it was too late that he had soaked his own shoe.
Xiao Nanhui’s mood was wholly at odds with the bright May sunshine.
The previous night, she had coaxed and cajoled Dujuan into leaving through both soft words and stern ones, then perched in a tree by the back gate of the Chancellor’s residence from dusk until the first vegetable sellers arrived at dawn — and never once caught sight of the face she wanted to see, the one that made her grind her teeth.
She should have known. “Guest of the Chancellor’s residence” — what a load of nonsense. She could not believe she had been so thoroughly taken in by that solemn-faced deception, handing over the item without a word of protest.
At the thought of returning to the Marquis Mansion and facing Xiao Zhun, Xiao Nanhui’s stomach knotted. She had gone off on this reckless errand without permission, abandoned her duties at the camp without so much as a notice, and was now coming back completely empty-handed. Every time she thought about it, she felt her face had nowhere to hide.
Her feet dragged, reluctant to turn in the direction of the Qinghuai Marquis Mansion, and she wandered idly until she found herself on Yukun Road.
The largest property on Yukun Road was the old mansion of Prince Shuo — the place where Xiao Zhun had grown up.
But after what had happened all those years ago, it had stood empty for a long time. In Xiao Nanhui’s memory, Xiao Zhun often came here alone to walk among its shadows. He didn’t like her following him inside, so she would always wait at the foot of the towering front gate, and her impression of Prince Shuo’s Mansion had never extended beyond the two bronze-patinated lion-head knockers on the gate.
Though she knew well enough that behind those high walls there was nothing but weeds and mice, still she was curious. She felt those walls contained a piece of Xiao Zhun’s past — the part that had existed before her.
Over the years, she had found herself drifting down this street from time to time. Just like today.
Xiao Nanhui let out a sigh, spotted a teahouse that had already opened nearby, and sat down, deciding to fill her stomach first.
The teahouse was livelier in the early morning than she had expected. The early risers were mostly merchants from the surrounding area, along with a few travelers hurrying to get out of the city — all of them with the brisk, purposeful air of people with somewhere to be.
Xiao Nanhui had deliberately chosen a seat in the thick of the crowd. She had been gone from the city for nearly a month and needed to catch up on what was happening in the streets — and the teahouses that merchants frequented were the best place for that.
No sooner had she sat down than a conversation from the table behind her filtered into her ears.
“Head Li, I can see you’re already packed and ready to go, and I should probably hold my tongue — but we’ve been doing business together for years. I can’t just stand by and watch you walk into danger.”
Head Li sounded genuinely surprised. “Brother, what do you mean? I’ve been running goods along the western route for years. If you’re worried about that flooding from the other day—”
“This has nothing to do with the flooding. Come closer—”
The voice dropped very low, but Xiao Nanhui’s hearing was sharper than most, and she caught every word.
By this point the diligent shop owner had already brought a steaming bamboo basket of soup dumplings to her table. She decided she could eat and eavesdrop at the same time, took a deep pull of cool tea, and reached her chopsticks toward the basket.
“Have you heard? The Kang Prince in the Ling Xi region was assassinated over a month ago.”
Xiao Nanhui’s chopsticks jolted. The dumpling she had just grasped dropped back into the basket with a wet smack, skin and filling separating on impact.
Head Li and the other diners at the table went audibly still: “You can’t say such things lightly! If a feudal prince is dead, there’s nothing left between Bijiang and Wancheng to hold the line!”
The voice behind her continued: “Would I joke about something this serious? My younger brother-in-law is stationed at the northern camp drill grounds outside the city — he says Tiancheng has already started reorganizing its forces. With that kind of certainty, war can’t be far off. The western road will be closed before long.”
“No wonder the undyed silk from Ling Xi has been out of stock — I thought I was overthinking it, but it turns out something really has happened…”
The voices behind her went on, but to Xiao Nanhui they had dissolved into a dull buzzing in which she could no longer pick out individual words.
The shop owner came around with a jar of vinegar for the table with the dumpling order, but when he turned the corner he found the seat empty. The basket of dumplings sat there with only a single chopstick mark in it, beside which lay a silver ingot, broken in half.
The shop owner picked up the silver and looked left and right: “Sir? Sir? I haven’t given you your change—”
The street stretched out clear and empty in both directions. There was no sign of the young man who had been sitting there just moments ago — a turn of speed that made the mind boggle.
She had seen signs of this coming for a while now, yet hearing it confirmed still sent her heart slamming against her ribs. The Kang Prince was a mediocre ruler, yet he held ten thousand troops and had governed as a feudal lord in his own territory. To be assassinated in his own domain — that could only mean the forces in Bijiang had grown far more powerful than she had imagined.
Xiao Nanhui cut straight back to the Marquis Mansion at a near-run. Without waiting for Chen Cai to open the door, she vaulted over the wall and made directly for Xiao Zhun’s study.
Chen Cai was just coming out of a room with a pile of old clothes and bedding, and when he saw Xiao Nanhui, disheveled and urgent, he was startled. It took him a moment to collect himself, and he hurried toward her.
“Miss, you’re finally back — why didn’t you send word? What’s all this rushing about?”
Xiao Nanhui was still a little breathless, no time to explain. She glanced toward the study; it appeared to be empty.
“Uncle Chen, where is my father?”
“An urgent summons came from the palace last night — His Majesty commanded all officials above the fifth rank to appear at court at the yin hour this morning. The General left early.”
So the Emperor had already begun pressing his court officials over this matter. In all likelihood, Xiao Zhun was about to receive military orders.
“Then — then I’ll wait for him in the study.”
Xiao Nanhui turned to go there, but Chen Cai caught her by the arm.
“Don’t be in such a hurry, Miss. After you crossed into Chizhou, the General knew your movements and anticipated you would be back in the last day or two. He left word with me to tell you: the situation is pressing, and he likely won’t have time to return to the mansion. He said to go find him directly at the camp.”
Of course. With things as they were, Xiao Zhun was about to become too busy to be seen. She had known this year would not be a peaceful one.
“Is that troublemaker Bolao back? Jixiang is still with her — I need it to ride to the camp.”
Chen Cai nodded and quickly shoved the bundle in his arms into a nearby storage chest: “She crept back last night. The horse I fed just this morning — take it and go. But don’t leave just yet. Let me fetch Dujuan to bring you a change of clothes. You can’t show up looking like this — the General will worry.”
At the sound of Dujuan’s name, Xiao Nanhui’s legs went a little unsteady. Her expression betrayed her despite herself. Chen Cai saw it and smiled — the smile of someone who missed nothing: “Don’t fret, Miss. Dujuan is sensible. She knows what matters and what doesn’t — she won’t give you trouble over this right now. Only try not to be this reckless again. It does give people a fright.”
The old steward’s back was not quite as straight as it had been in years past, and his temples had gone white. The trace of gentle reproach in his voice made Xiao Nanhui feel warm and guilty all at once. She said nothing, only murmured her assent.
Half an hour later, Xiao Nanhui arrived at the northern outskirts camp, horse and rider together before the gate. A red banner bearing the character for “stern” snapped in the wind, looking even more severe than usual. Xiao Zhun’s battalion consisted primarily of cavalry and archers; because they had held the northern defense line for so many years, they had been granted the camp name “Stern North” — the largest single military force in Tiancheng, and the one garrisoned closest to Quecheng was this particular division.