At the end of November, in Longgu City of the northwestern frontier, the cold had frozen the earth solid, and snow was falling thick and fast.
Even with braziers burning in the government hall, there was little warmth to be found.
Zhou Liu-lang had been sitting before his desk for a long time; the ink on the table had already congealed, and the brush in his hand still had not fallen to the page.
“Sir, Master Xu has arrived.”
The voice of a guard came from outside the door.
Zhou Liu-lang started in fright, the brush slipping from his hand. He hurried to fold up the letter spread open on the desk, trying to hide it but not knowing where, then reached to pick up the fallen brush – flustered and fumbling all at once.
By that time, Xu Sigen had already strode in.
“Master Zhou,” he greeted with a bow. “You requested the transfer of ten horses?”
Zhou Liu-lang rubbed his nose, straightened his expression, and nodded.
“Horses with heavy iron hooves, able to gallop swiftly on ice,” he said.
“Ten is too many. I’ll do my best to find you eight,” Xu Sigen replied.
Zhou Liu-lang gave a quiet “Mm” in assent.
The room fell silent.
“Then I shall take my leave,” Xu Sigen said, raising his hand in salute.
Zhou Liu-lang gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment, watching as Xu Sigen turned to go. His hand, resting on the desk, clenched into a fist. He kept his eyes fixed on Xu Sigen until the man had stepped out and the curtain fell, cutting off his view.
He lifted his hand and struck the desk with a thud.
“Would it kill you to ask!” he muttered through gritted teeth.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the curtain was lifted again.
“Oh, right, my lord,” Xu Sigen said, stepping back inside.
Zhou Liu-lang was startled, his face flushing red as he looked at him.
“It’s almost December now – I’m sending New Year gifts to my sister and the others,” Xu Sigen said. “Would you like to send anything along to her?”
Yes!
“I’ve already sent her things,” Zhou Liu-lang said stiffly.
Xu Sigen gave an “oh,” saluted once more, and turned to leave.
Zhou Liu-lang slammed his fist down on the desk again, producing a dull thud.
“Would it kill me to let him take it along!” he muttered through clenched teeth, glancing toward the space beneath the desk.
There sat an old, timeworn box.
He reached for it, then lay back against the mat, opening the box and taking out a small bronze mirror.
“This was a fine piece from the harem of the Western rebel king,” he murmured to himself, turning the mirror over in his hands. As it moved, the sunlight flickered across his face, bright and dim by turns.
The mirror’s reverse side bore patterns unlike those of ordinary bronze mirrors – simple and elegant, yet carrying a touch of playful charm.
“It doesn’t really look that pretty – but it should be worth quite a bit anyway…”
“Money? It’s not like you ever lack money…”
Zhou Liu-lang curled his lips, muttering to himself again.
“…Anyway, nothing ever seems to mean anything to you…”
After a moment’s murmuring, he sat up once more and reached for the letter on the desk, his brow furrowing.
“Shi’san said the Cheng family went to the capital a month ago. They must have arrived by now… I wonder if she’s run into any trouble?” he muttered to himself.
Grinding his teeth, he finally picked up the brush to dip it in ink – only to find the ink had congealed again. With a flash of irritation, he began to grind the ink anew.
When it was ready, he took up the brush as if it were a knife, clenched his teeth, and brought it down to the paper.
The guardsman had caught a strange smell outside and lifted the curtain to look in.
As soon as he entered, he saw Zhou Liu-lang leaning idly against the floor, lazily tossing crumpled balls of paper one after another into the brazier a short distance away.
Each time, a puff of smoke rose from the coals, spreading a choking odor through the room.
“My lord, what are you doing?” the guardsman asked in surprise.
Zhou Liu-lang ignored him, continuing to throw the remaining seven or eight paper balls into the fire one by one.
The guardsman could only watch helplessly.
After all, every so often, his lord would do something strange.
“My lord, didn’t you say you still needed to send a family letter and New Year gifts? The couriers are about to leave for the capital – shall I take them over?” he asked, remembering.
“Weren’t they already sent? What’s there left to send?” Zhou Liu-lang snapped.
The guardsman, rebuffed, muttered under his breath,
“You were the one who said something got left out, not me…”
“My lord, my lord! General Zhong requests your presence!” someone called from outside.
At the sound, Zhou Liu-lang sprang to his feet, tossed the last paper ball into the brazier, grabbed his cloak from the side, and strode out.
Meanwhile, in the capital, Qin Shi’san was sitting in the warmth of the hall, straightening abruptly in disbelief.
“Father, what did you just say?” he asked.
“They say the imperial concubine conceived after eating the pastries she made?”
Qin An nodded.
“That is the rumor circulating in the palace.”
Qin Shi’san’s expression darkened.
“So it’s Duke Jin’an speaking of her again?” he demanded.
“The Duke mentions her quite often,” said Qin An.
“I knew he was up to no good!” Qin Shi’san said, rising to his feet.
“Shi’san, you’re wrong about that.” Qin An shook his head and frowned, motioning for him to stop. Then, with a meaningful tone, he added, “His Majesty is well aware of the Duke’s good intentions.”
“That’s exactly it – he’s only ‘well-intentioned’ for his own sake!” Qin Shi’san said, bowing hastily to his father before striding out.
Madam Qin happened to be coming in just as mother and son nearly collided face-to-face.
“You’ve only just come home, and now you’re heading out again?” she said, reaching out to grab her son. “You can’t seem to get enough of visiting that Lady Cheng, can you?”
Qin Shi’san couldn’t help but laugh.
“Mother, don’t tease,” he said. “I have serious business to attend to.”
“Who’s teasing? There’s nothing about Lady Cheng that’s a laughing matter!” Madam Qin said in all earnestness.
Qin Shi’san let out a chuckle, bowed to his mother, and turned to leave with calm composure.
“What is it this time?” Madam Qin asked as she stepped into the hall.
“Lady Cheng has displayed another divine skill,” said Qin An, picking up a book as he spoke.
Madam Qin sat down.
“Don’t tell me even the imperial concubine’s pregnancy is being credited to her now?” she said.
Qin An nodded.
“Oh my, that really is impressive – our Lady Cheng, the bringer of children! Who knows how many families will be lining up to marry her now,” Madam Qin said with a laugh.
“Who would dare marry her?” Qin An replied without even lifting his head.
With the Empress Dowager’s praise, the fallen Ghost Judge, the Divine Arm Bows and stone shot – such a lady was one every family would covet, yet none would dare to claim.
“Our family would,” said Madam Qin.
Qin An still didn’t look up.
“Mm. But she wouldn’t marry into our family,” he said.
That made Madam Qin exhale sharply.
“She truly wouldn’t? Our Shi’san treats her so sincerely – doesn’t she feel anything for him?”
“She does not. She has her principles. Once she’s given her word, she’ll never go back on it. A person of her word, through and through,” Qin An said, speaking absently while smiling at a particularly fine passage in his book.
Suddenly the book was snatched out of his hands.
He looked up to see his wife glaring, brows arched in fury.
“Then find a way!” she said. “If she truly dares not to marry, Shi’san will truly dare not to wed anyone else!”
…
“Young Master Qin, you’ve come again?”
The maid, wrapped in a heavy cloak and about to head out, greeted him with a cheerful smile.
“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t come again before the New Year?”
“I’m not your mistress,” Qin Shi’san said lightly. “When I say something, I don’t have to carve a hole in the ground to make it stick – I can always pick it back up whenever I want.”
The maid covered her mouth, laughing. By then, Ban Qin had already opened the door and bowed in greeting.
“Did you make pastries for Prince Qing’s residence that day?” Qin Shi’san asked.
Ban Qin, who was pouring tea, heard this and couldn’t help glancing at him. After a moment’s thought, she rose and pushed a plate of pastries toward him.
Qin Shi’san looked at her and smiled.
Did they really take him for someone that petty – and that greedy?
“No, I didn’t,” said Cheng Jiao-niang.
Qin Shi’san gave a cold laugh and nodded.
“As I thought. I knew it would be him again,” he said, looking toward Cheng Jiao-niang. “Do you know what he told His Majesty?”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
“He presented some pastries to the Emperor and claimed they were made by you,” Qin Shi’san said.
“Oh,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied simply.
“Now one of the imperial consorts is pregnant, and everyone’s saying it’s because she ate your pastries,” Qin Shi’san went on.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled faintly.
“Then perhaps I should open a pastry shop,” she said.
“This isn’t something to joke about,” said Qin Shi’san, his face – usually quick to smile -completely serious.
“If it isn’t a joke, what else could it be?” said Cheng Jiao-niang, who seldom smiled herself, yet was smiling now.
She picked up a piece of pastry, lifted her sleeve, and turned slightly aside to take a bite.
Qin Shi’san looked at her – the girl with her sleeve half-covering her face, turned slightly to the side.
There was a gentle grace about her, and the pair of eyes that showed were touched with a hint of playful charm.
Sensing his gaze, she turned her eyes toward him.
Was that the curve of a smile beneath her sleeve?
The thought crossed Qin Shi’san’s mind, leaving him momentarily dazed.
But in the next instant, she lowered her sleeve, her expression composed and proper once more.
Qin Shi’san let out a quiet sigh.
“You should avoid seeing Duke Jin’an too often,” he said. Then, after a brief pause, his tone grew more solemn. “That man… his heart is not upright.”
His heart is not upright?
Ban Qin, kneeling at the side with her head bowed, couldn’t help but lift her gaze.
“He’s a duke – he should have left the capital long ago for his fief,” Qin Shi’san said. “Yet he’s used every trick he can to stay here.”
“Isn’t it because he can’t bear to part with Prince Qing?” Ban Qin couldn’t help saying.
Qin Shi’san gave a short laugh, tinged with scorn.
“‘Can’t bear to part with Prince Qing’ – that’s a story fit only to fool women, children, and the gullible.”
To fool women, children, and the gullible.
Ban Qin’s expression changed slightly.
Even she wasn’t so dull as to miss what that implied – only the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, or ordinary folk like herself could have the power to let Duke Jin’an remain in the capital.
Such words… were dangerously close to treason.
“I speak freely before you – don’t laugh at my arrogance,” Qin Shi’san said with a smile.
“I won’t laugh at you,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied with a small nod.
Qin Shi’san lifted his tea bowl and took a sip.
“If it’s about not wanting to part with Prince Qing – well, doesn’t Prince Qing’s own household have its own fief?” he went on, then looked up and smiled. “But let’s not dwell on imperial matters. I only mean that you should be a little more cautious. Don’t treat everything so lightly – otherwise, some people may take advantage of that and end up hurting you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, bowing politely.
Qin Shi’san smiled and drained his tea.
“This time I truly am leaving. I’ll come again at New Year to pay you my respects,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang bowed once more and rose to see him out.
After seeing Qin Shi’san off, Fan Jianglin happened to come in.
“Why are you back at midday?” Lady Huang asked in surprise.
Because so many Divine Arm Bows had been damaged, Fan Jianglin – who might otherwise have had an easier time – was now busier than ever. On top of that, with Li Mao’s stone shot and the modifications to the trebuchets, craftsmen were being summoned from all over, and the workshops were in a frenzy, no one’s feet touching the ground.
“I made a little something for Bao’er to play with,” Fan Jianglin said, taking out two small boxes.
Lady Huang laughed and reached out.
“You came all the way back just to bring this? And two of them, no less!” she said, smiling.
But Fan Jianglin handed her only one.
“This one’s for my sister,” he said, offering the other forward.
“It’s finished already?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
Fan Jianglin nodded.
Hearing those few words, Lady Huang quickly turned and left the room, taking with her the maid holding the child.
“See if this will do? I’ve revised it many times according to the drawings,” Fan Jianglin said, seated beneath the veranda.
Cheng Jiao-niang took it from him with both hands.
“Thank you, Brother,” she said with a courteous bow, then opened it.
Ban Qin leaned in to look and saw that it was a rather peculiar bamboo tube.
“Yes, just like this. Brother, you’ve done wonderfully,” Cheng Jiao-niang said with a smiling nod.
Only then did Fan Jianglin smile, rise to wash up, and change his clothes.
“Ban Qin, bring me the box that Li Mao sent last time – the one on the shelf inside,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Ban Qin answered “Yes, Miss,” and did as told, bringing the box over. She watched as Cheng Jiao-niang took out a long paper scroll from within and carefully placed it into the bamboo tube Fan Jianglin had made.
“Miss, what is that?” she couldn’t help asking curiously.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked down at the bamboo tube in her hands for a moment. Her expression grew a little distant, and then she lifted her gaze toward the sky.
“This is…” she murmured. “What?”
What?
Ban Qin looked up, puzzled – only to see Cheng Jiao-niang’s face change. Her eyes widened, fixed on the heavens above.
What?
Ban Qin raised her head too. The daylight was dim and hazy; it looked as though wind and snow might come by evening.
What is it?
When she looked again, Cheng Jiao-niang had already taken a few steps forward, still staring upward, her face showing an astonishment Ban Qin had never seen before.
“How could it appear at this time?” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
“What appeared?” Ban Qin asked, following her gaze toward the sky.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head without answering.
Ban Qin made a small sound of acknowledgment – was it something beautiful?
Not understanding, she too looked up. But where was she supposed to look? Nothing in the sky seemed any different.
“But this… shouldn’t be visible at this time of year,” Cheng Jiao-niang said quietly.
“Then when should it appear?” Ban Qin asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang kept her gaze fixed on the heavens.
“It’s…”
“Ah-Fang.”
A man’s voice suddenly rang out.
Cheng Jiao-niang shivered violently and turned toward the sound.
At the doorway stood a young man, lowering his hood, a bright, radiant smile lighting up his face.
“Your Highness.” Ban Qin hurriedly bowed, then glanced toward the doorkeeper with a hint of reproach.
“I opened the door – didn’t you hear me?” the doorkeeper said, sounding aggrieved.
She must have been too lost in thought just now…
Ban Qin said no more and turned to look at Cheng Jiao-niang – only to find her seemingly dazed.
Of course, to outsiders, her lady often appeared absent-minded, but Ban Qin could always tell the difference: her mistress might look still, yet her eyes always held focus. But now those eyes were unfocused, her expression truly vacant.
“Miss?” Ban Qin asked in alarm, reaching out to steady her – and the moment she touched her, she froze in shock.
She was trembling. She was trembling!
“Miss! What’s wrong?” Ban Qin cried out in panic.
Her cry startled Duke Jin’an as well. He quickly stepped over the threshold and hurried forward.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing at once that the girl before him looked nothing like her usual self.
Her fair face had turned deathly pale, and the eyes that were always calm and steady now shimmered with a strange, deep light.
Cheng Jiao-niang raised her sleeve to cover her face.
“Ah-Fang! Look! Look – there’s a black spot in the sun! Is that Taibai?”
“That’s Yang Shan!”
A bright, youthful laugh seemed to echo in her ears.
“Do you think I’m a star?”
“If I were a star, Ah-Fang, then you’d be the moon – rising and setting together, sharing light and life.”
Cheng Jiao-niang covered her face and began to laugh softly, yet tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
“Miss! Miss!”
Ban Qin’s voice grew more and more urgent by her ear, almost on the verge of tears.
It had all happened in the space of a blink. Cheng Jiao-niang brushed her sleeve across her face, wiping away the tears, stilled her laughter, and straightened her posture.
“I’m fine,” she said slowly. “Just a bit cold.”
Duke Jin’an halted, watching her.
“It’s December now – it’s colder still, and the weather’s poor today. You should wear more,” he said, his gaze dropping to her hands. Noticing something there, he stepped closer, pointing curiously. “What’s that?”
Cheng Jiao-niang lowered her hands, the bamboo tube now hidden beneath her sleeve.
“Nothing,” she replied, turning to take a step, then paused and looked slightly back over her shoulder at him.
“And also,” she said, “don’t call me Ah-Fang.”
