Mists surging

“Lord Chen, well done.” Xie Yi’s voice rang out loudly, as if deliberately speaking to Xia Yunhe on the other side of the wall.

Chen Haizhou remained silent for a long time.

Xia Yunhe grew anxious, knowing Chen Haizhou was ruthless—could he dare to move against a prince?

“Seventh Prince,” a sigh of relief came from both sides of the wall. Only San Niang’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Xia Yunhe. Just as she was about to speak out, Xia Yunhe quickly covered her mouth to stifle her exclamation.

“This scoundrel dared to harm me; thankfully, Lord Chen has slain this treacherous servant. I beseech Lord Chen to escort me safely back to the palace.”

Then Xie Xing, still groggy from waking, cursed repeatedly, uttering words like “Get lost,” “You get lost.”

Xia Yunhe frowned slightly. San Niang stirred, shook her head, and raised three fingers in a solemn vow, indicating she would not shout recklessly.

Xia Yunhe withdrew her hand and pressed her fingers against her forehead.

Glancing at San Niang, she saw that indeed San Niang remained silent but wore a troubled expression.

Chen Haizhou’s voice came faintly from the other side, accompanied by the sound of dragging something, then lifting it up.

“I’ll come back tonight to settle this. Your body is weak; rest well.”

“Get lost—!”

The roar made Xia Yunhe startle and nearly lose her balance, but San Niang caught her just in time.

She cast a grateful look at San Niang, only to find the woman not looking at her, but listening intently to the conversation beyond the wall, sometimes lost in thought and staring blankly.

There was a long silence on the other side, even Xie Yi’s voice was gone. Xia Yunhe felt a twinge of worry, until she heard Chen Haizhou quietly call, “Your Highness, this way.”

Xie Yi’s voice rose again, loud and clear: “Many thanks, Lord Chen.”

Then came the sound of the courtyard door being locked.

San Niang held on tightly, so much so that Xia Yunhe’s arm ached. She gently patted San Niang’s hand, and the woman smiled sheepishly before finally letting go.

With Xie Yi returning to the palace with Chen Haizhou, their journey would surely be safe. But the palace was restless—Xia Yunhe looked toward the wall and thought, this wall must be scaled after all.

She lifted her robe, ready to climb the ladder to the top of the wall, but San Niang grabbed her suddenly.

“What are you doing?” Then she abruptly let go, stepping back with sorrowful eyes and furrowed brows as she scrutinized Xia Yunhe.

“Who exactly are you?”

A woman’s heart is written plainly on her face; Xia Yunhe could see it clearly. She raised her head and gazed at the top of the wall for a moment. Since ancient times, those deeply in love are often worldly beings.

Turning back to San Niang, she said, “I have no interest in him; I only have a question to ask.”

San Niang opened her mouth but said nothing.

Seeing no further resistance, Xia Yunhe smiled slightly, nodded, and continued climbing the ladder.

Upon reaching the white wall, she steadied the ladder and glanced back to find San Niang staring blankly at her, tears welling in her eyes.

Softly, San Niang said, “I prepared the ladder long ago but never dared to use it.”

The torment of love—she had no beloved herself and didn’t know how to comfort San Niang. She merely nodded slightly and turned to observe Xie Xing’s courtyard.

The courtyard was square. On the left was the main house, its towering roof ridge visible even from San Niang’s yard, standing out like a bright beacon amidst the dilapidated roofs and broken tiles.

The courtyard walls inside and out were whitewashed with lime; Xia Yunhe, perched atop the wall, could smell the pungent scent. She shifted a little higher and coughed twice.

In front of the main house to the right was a stone table with two stone stools. A cascade of pale yellow forsythia flowers connected the stone table with the house. Though the courtyard was just dirt, it was smooth and neat. The only blemish was a large patch of dark red bloodstains on the right side of the ground, extending into a curved trail of blood drops.

The door creaked open, and a tall, slender man in a pale moon-white cotton robe stepped out. He looked less like a living man and more like a figure from a painting—a pale face with indistinct age.

He carried a dustpan containing a small shovel, went to the flower wall, dug some soil, and scattered it over the bloodstains. He coughed twice, swaying slightly.

Xia Yunhe wanted a clearer view but accidentally knocked her sleeve stove, which made a soft “thud.” She hastily caught it and looked up to find the man staring at her.

“Who are you?” The voice was Xie Xing’s.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead and cleared her throat. Climbing this high made her nervous; she just wanted to finish quickly.

From her sleeve, she took out a pair of silver-red wax paper strips—one inscribed, the other blank—and said, “I once saw your imitation brushwork at the Ink Cypress Studio. Could you please help me imitate this writing?”

“No more copying. You should leave,” he said coldly and politely, completely absent of Chen Haizhou’s madness.

Then he softly began singing “A Festive Banquet Today”:

“Today's festive banquet, joy hard to express,
Zither strings echo freely, new sounds enchant the soul.
Virtuous words sung high, those who know discern truth.
United in shared wishes, meanings yet unspoken.
Life is but a fleeting moment, as swift as dust in the wind.”

Afterward, he sighed deeply, coughed twice, still weak from illness.

He did not continue singing.

Xia Yunhe knew this tune well. More importantly, Xie Xing left out the last two lines:

“Why not take swift action, first seize the strategic pass?”

Her heart stirred. “Sir, you have pride…”

Xie Xing interrupted her, sitting on the stone stool with eyes closed to rest.

“Go. My heart is dead—I cannot imitate.”

Xia Yunhe frowned slightly. The palace’s internal strife had already targeted the Seventh Prince, and a night raid to rebuild was still distant. She had no time to waste on this man, so she deliberately provoked him:

“Xie Zihai, if you truly seek death, now is the time. Chen Haizhou is absent; just ram your head against a pillar and be done.”

Suddenly, Xie Xing opened his eyes, trembling as he pointed at her, chest heaving with coughs.

“You—you—you, a scholar may be killed but not humiliated…”

He hadn’t fainted.

Leaning on the wall, Xia Yunhe said firmly, “Help me imitate this handwriting, and I will do everything I can to help you escape Chen Haizhou.” She then pulled out a copper fish talisman from her waist and showed it to Xie Xing.

“I know you don’t believe me, but you must have heard—factional strife is unforgiving.”

Exhausted after returning, Xia Yunhe’s dark clothes were stained with lime dust from the wall, embroidery threads unraveling.

Zhen Niang pitied her, brought water for a bath, then brewed chicken soup to coax her to drink. Later, at the third quarter of the hour of the dog, she woke her, fed her soft meat broth. Under the moonlight’s quiet glow, Xia Yunhe dozed off.

Meanwhile, turmoil erupted inside the palace.

Emperor He Hui was furious, calling it a royal disgrace, unprecedented. He decreed a thorough investigation and dispatched troops to sweep through the Xiahe Village.

News soon spread that Consort Wan personally brought the Fifth Prince the next day, bearing a humble apology. In front of Emperor He Hui, she had the Fifth Prince whipped until he fainted. It was only after the Crown Prince, Fourth Prince, and Seventh Prince pleaded on his behalf that the emperor ordered the consort to stop, sparing the Fifth Prince.

Consort Wan wept bitterly, furiously cursing the unfilial sons. “Brothers at war within, enemies without. I hereby request demotion and salary suspension to repent in the Buddhist hall.”

The Fifth Prince was confined for three months, ordered to learn brotherly love and respect. At the same time, the palace servants around him were executed and replaced.

Everyone in the palace grew cautious, speaking no bold words, nor daring to gossip.

Emperor He Hui frowned deeply but still praised Xia Yunhe’s congratulatory speech at court. Feeling the ministers’ scrutinizing gazes, she looked straight ahead, treating them as nothing.

After court, some officials whispered behind her, pointing fingers. When she turned, they approached openly, smiling and asking, “Lady Xia, still as charming as ever?”

Uncertain of their meaning, she remained silent, smiling faintly, calmly meeting their gaze.

One said, “We thought Lady Xia was a noble pure flow, a refined gentleman, but it seems you also love a beauty.”

Another added, “Is it proper to indulge in pleasures with courtesans?”

Yet another chimed in, “Ah, that’s wrong. A true gentleman is naturally charming.”

The phrase “true gentleman is naturally charming” originally meant elegance and refined taste, but from these gentlemen’s mouths, Xia Yunhe sensed a different implication.

Seeing her silent, they assumed they had hit a nerve, exchanged amused glances, stroked their beards, laughed heartily, and left.

Courtesan? Xia Yunhe’s heart stirred. No wonder the emperor deliberately praised her at court—he must know about the Xiahe Village incident.

San Niang… Xia Yunhe recalled the day she had negotiated time with Xie Xing for the imitation brushwork, only to find San Niang watching her intently as she climbed down the ladder, eyes unblinking.

Only when she stepped out of the courtyard did San Niang ask, “Madam, can you truly help Master Xie?”

Upon receiving an affirmative answer, San Niang’s pale face blossomed into a smile. She rushed over, knelt, and kowtowed.

“I will never reveal your identity, even if the Heavenly King himself comes. I’d rather die. Please, madam, help Master Xie.”

Xia Yunhe lifted her chin and sighed. So be it—noble pure flow or not, let it be.

“Yi Zhi—”

Xia Yunhe turned to see Liu Rongshan, Duke of Dingguo, in a purple robe, smiling warmly at her.

“Teacher.”

Liu Rongshan waved his hands repeatedly. “Yi Zhi, you are now the Seventh Prince’s teacher; I’ve grown much older. I hear you fancy a lady. The emperor said you only came to your senses after reaching adulthood. If you truly like her, you could free her from servitude and bring her into your household. Later, if you find a noble lady you prefer, you could elevate this one as a concubine—a beautiful story indeed.”

Xia Yunhe lowered her eyes, pondering what the sly old fox was scheming. He continued, “Don’t be shy. Since ancient times, talented men and beautiful women have been matched. Yi Zhi, your talents are broad and deep.”

Seeing her silent, he added, “Ah, do not waste time. Beauties that captivate a city or a nation are rare. Don’t betray that lady’s heart.”

Liu Rongshan often wove poetry and scattered words; Xia Yunhe frowned slightly, not fully understanding him.

After finishing, the Duke insisted on linking arms to stroll out of the palace with her. Xia Yunhe humored him casually.

Above the palace, an invisible hand stirred the winds and clouds, entangling every fate.

At home, she sat quietly beneath the eaves.

A letter came from her mother. Xia Yunhe opened it to find eight sheets of paper with only eleven characters: “Goods are plentiful in the capital; buy what you need yourself; do not ask me.”

Attached was a finely crafted little gourd bottle, etched with two characters in slender gold script: “Shi Zhai.”

She shook the small bottle, looked at it again and again, then turned it upside down, hoping something would pour out—nothing. Gently stroking the bottle, she fixated on the two characters and murmured:

“Shi Zhai gourd, Shi Zhai gourd, Shi Zhai gourd.”

... Truly perplexing.

Her mother was angry.

She examined the slender gold characters carefully. Slender?

Since childhood, her mother often teased her with words containing “slender” or homophones.

Now it was the same.

She could already imagine her mother stamping her feet and scolding upon receiving her letter.

So what?

A loving mother harbors many worries, yet she must continue on.

The sky was dark and heavy, as if snow and wind were approaching.

She waited for a message—one that Fu San would bring back from the border town.

But before that, she needed to check how Xie Xing’s imitation was progressing.