The day after the imperial carriage returned to the city, a light rain began to fall over Quecheng.
It was the first rain of the new year. The air turned damp and cold, shrouding the entire capital in a veil of mist. The rain persisted for three days without pause, causing the water levels in the city's ponds to rise. The runoff swept away the withered leaves and broken branches of winter, as if intent on purging the ancient city of its accumulated secrets.
In the early hours of the morning, the sky remained overcast. The heavy humidity brought a lingering lethargy; the few pedestrians on the streets moved with a listless air.
The side gate of the Wangchen Tower’s back courtyard creaked open. A servant dressed in a straw raincoat and bamboo hat emerged, hoisting a wooden box wrapped in oilcloth onto a bullock cart. With practiced ease, he steered the cart toward the back alleys.
The cart wobbled through the winding streets and narrow shortcuts before finally coming to a halt at the back gate of a quiet, grand residence. The servant hopped down and struck the door knocker.
*Clang, clang, clang.* Exactly three times.
After a moment, the gate creaked open halfway, and a woman dressed in men’s attire with her hair tied back peered out. The servant respectfully handed over the oilcloth-wrapped box.
"This is the latest batch of Red-Throat Pearls. Four taels and three mace in total. It should last until summer; there isn't a grain more to be had."
Xiao Nanhui carefully wiped the moisture from the oilcloth with her sleeve, her gratitude sincere. "My thanks. Please convey my regards to your shopkeeper. Tell him I shall bring some delicacies to visit when I am free."
The servant gave a cheeky grin and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his tunic.
Xiao Nanhui took it, instantly recognizing the hand that had written those rows of tiny, elegant characters.
"My shopkeeper knows that Miss Xiao is generous to a fault and dislikes owing favors. He has already prepared this list. You need only purchase the items according to the manifest; there is no need to trouble yourself with thinking of what to bring."
The very first line listed "Raccoon-fur Ghost Mushrooms," priced at ten gold pieces per tael. Xiao Nanhui tucked the scrap of paper away with a thin smile, her previous gratitude vanishing instantly.
"Shopkeeper Yao is indeed... thorough."
"Quite so, quite so." The servant nimbly climbed back onto the cart and turned it around. "Farewell, Miss Xiao."
The cart creaked and groaned as it disappeared around the corner of the alley. Xiao Nanhui stood there for a moment before carefully cradling the box and retreating inside.
Days of rain had made the roof tiles slick. The walls she usually scaled with ease were now treacherous, even more so with a precious item in hand. It took her some effort to return to the side courtyard.
Lately, whenever she was in the residence, she stayed in Aunt Dai’s courtyard. It was the only place where she could avoid frequent encounters with Xiao Zhun.
The woman who used to wait for her on the swing was nowhere to be seen. Puddles had gathered in the courtyard, reflecting the withered grass atop the walls, looking even more desolate than it had in the depths of winter.
Xiao Nanhui sighed and walked over to a small stove. A small pot of medicinal soup was heating over it; a layer of white frost had formed on the outside of the pot, a sign that it had been simmering for a long time.
She unwrapped the oilcloth and opened the small box, revealing three porcelain bottles secured in soft silk. Carefully removing one, she used the warmth of her palm to melt the sealing wax at the mouth and poured the greenish-white powder into the pot.
A fishy yet sweet, warm scent drifted through the air. A bit of powder stuck to her fingertip; Xiao Nanhui tasted it. It was incredibly bitter.
That was the taste of Shallow-Water Red-Throat Pearls.
Red-Throat Pearls were a medicine Aunt Dai had used for three years. It was actually a powder made from the dried secretions of a type of mussel, mostly harvested near southern coastal cities. It was miraculously effective at relieving pain and dispelling "wind-cold," a remedy used by coastal folk in ancient times to prevent cold from seeping into the bones. In the inland regions, few merchants sold it now, and the Shallow-Water variety harvested from streams was worth more than its weight in gold.
The catastrophe of years ago had left irreversible damage on Aunt Dai’s body. Beyond the horrific scars on her skin, the flesh and bone that had once been mangled and severed still throbbed with pain from time to time. This chronic pain was most unbearable after the onset of winter, especially on rainy or snowy days.
Ever since she began receiving a salary in the army, Xiao Nanhui had relied on Yao Yi to help her search for various medicinal ingredients and prescriptions. Over the years, she had gained considerable experience, and the Red-Throat Pearls had proven the most effective. They were simply difficult to find, and she often ended up owing Yao Yi a significant debt of favors for them.
After resealing the medicinal pot with a lacquered bone-wax ball, Xiao Nanhui picked up the box and headed toward the main room.
The moment she pushed the door open and stepped inside, she realized there was someone else in the room. Someone had beaten her to it, occupying the only chair in the room and happily munching on a plate of dried persimmons.
Xiao Nanhui walked forward expressionless and snatched the plate away.
"I brought these for Aunt Dai. Why are they ending up in your stomach?"
"Eating too many of these causes internal heat; I’m doing her a favor." The thief’s cheeks were bulging, his fingers dusted with powdered sugar. He wiped them haphazardly on his tunic and turned to accuse her: "You’ve been back for days, yet you’ve been hiding from me. Have you done something to weigh on your conscience?"
Without looking back, Xiao Nanhui set the plate aside and carefully tucked the box into a corner.
The next moment, Bo Lao’s large face appeared before her. "Something is wrong with you."
Xiao Nanhui gave a cold snort, glanced at Aunt Dai sleeping in the inner room, and turned to add fresh charcoal to the brazier. She was certain that Bo Lao’s simple, thick head wasn't nearly sharp enough to grasp her internal struggles of the past few days.
Sure enough, the other party pondered for a moment before giving a smirk of feigned profundity. "Is it that brat Su Pingchuan again? I say, why don't you just ask the old Emperor to transfer you back to Northern Su? You’ve been fighting that fellow Xu Shu for years anyway; you’ve gained enough experience to write a book on it."
Xiao Nanhui remained silent. Her hand gripping the fire tongs tightened involuntarily, her knuckles turning white.
If she had merely felt loathing for Xu Shu before, she now felt a genuine trace of hatred.
"In the future, when you're wandering about outside, stay away from his family."
Bo Lao didn't understand. He puffed out his belly and struck a martial arts stance. "This young master should fear him? I could take on ten Xu Shus without breaking a sweat."
But in this world, victory and defeat were not always decided by fists. There were enemies far more terrifying than a visible punch.
"The moment you beat him up, he'll come looking to cause trouble for me. Better to have one less thing to worry about. Restrain yourself."
"What is there to fear with me around? For the sake of the years I've spent protecting you..." Bo Lao extended a hand, his round face suddenly looking quite thick-skinned. "Where are the Snowy Plum Cakes you promised me?"
Xiao Nanhui stared at that fleshy paw, feeling as though she had suffered eight lifetimes of bad luck. She looked at Bo Lao, then thought of the "manifest" in her pocket. She couldn't understand why she had befriended two "ancestors" who required offerings every festival.
Snowy Plum Cakes were a specialty of the Tingfeng Tower, made from candied plum meat wrapped in fine, soft pastry. They were only available for a few days each year and couldn't be bought; they were given as gifts to guests who attended the Sea Bass Feast.
Bo Lao knew nothing of what had transpired at the Tingfeng Tower.
Xiao Nanhui didn't even look up, having no heart to entertain him. "I forgot."
"Forgot?!" The voice, pitched between shock and fury, cracked, revealing the speaker's utter disbelief. "You actually think you can dismiss me with 'forgot'? Xiao Nanhui, it's one thing for you to feast and drink alone outside, but you didn't even think to save a scrap for me..."
She still gave no reaction, poking at the coals in the brazier, lost in thought.
Bo Lao continued to grumble, calculating his losses and wondering how to extract some compensation. "As recompense, lend me that longbow of yours for a few days. I found a great spot for mounted archery in the south a few days ago. The view is wide, there's a small woods, and plenty of wild birds..."
Xiao Nanhui’s fingers twitched. She suddenly spoke, cutting him off.
"I don't like archery anymore. If you like the bow, take it."
Bo Lao froze, his round face filled with unmistakable confusion. "How can you just stop liking it? You used to be most enthusiastic about it. You nearly shot through the rockery in the courtyard..."
The unhealed wound on her shoulder began to throb. With a *clatter*, she dropped the fire tongs into the brazier.
"I just... don't like it anymore."
A few sparks flew up. The air fell silent for several seconds.
Only then did Bo Lao truly sense that something was amiss. His short, stubby fingers instinctively brushed his hair, and even his thick, bean-like eyebrows twitched with caution.
"Did you eat too many persimmons and get a fever?"
Xiao Nanhui stared unblinkingly at the charcoal fire and suddenly asked, "If I were to leave the residence one day, would you follow the Marquis or would you follow me?"
To anyone else, such a question would sound grave, but to Bo Lao’s ears, it was a refrain he had heard so often he had grown calluses.
When they were children, their horoscopes had clashed, and they fought constantly. At first, Bo Lao naturally held the upper hand, but as time passed, Xiao Nanhui learned to seize his weaknesses, rendering his martial skills useless. In the end, he would always have to invoke Xiao Zhun to intimidate her.
Every time that happened, Xiao Nanhui would ask him: did he follow the Marquis, or did he follow her?
And his answer was always the same.
"Isn't that obvious? Of course I follow the Marquis. The Marquis brought me in; I eat his food and use his things, so naturally, my heart belongs to him. If it weren't for his arrangements, I would never have been forced to serve you. You must remain clear-headed at all times; do not let your ego swell and think that because you have my person, you have my heart..."
In the past, hearing such a speech would have made Xiao Nanhui fly into a rage and curse him as an ungrateful "short winter melon."
But today, she merely fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment before nodding. "That is for the best."
Bo Lao was now certain that something was wrong with her, but his limited imagination failed to hit the mark.
"Did you try to be a hero outside and provoke some enemy? Are they coming to the residence for revenge now? Have you lost your nerve and decided to pack your bags and run?"
Xiao Nanhui said nothing. Seeing his self-righteous expression, she felt seventy percent amused and thirty percent disgusted.
To Bo Lao, her silence seemed to confirm his suspicions. "You needn't worry," he said, planting his hands on his barrel-like waist and tilting his chin up, trying his best to look imposing. "With this young master here, who would dare bully you?"
Xiao Nanhui remained silent, then suddenly moved like lightning, her two fingers fiercely pinching a few inches of fat above his belt. The sensation was even thicker than it had been half a month ago.
She slowly looked up, meeting the large eyes beneath those thick brows.
"Is this waistline five months along? I wonder if it's a boy or a girl..."
Bo Lao’s round face turned from white to red, then from red to black. He sucked in his breath to reclaim the fat from her grasp, returning to his agitated state.
"I only spoke out of pity for you. Do not come begging me when you reach a dead end; I will absolutely not agree out of a soft heart..."
Xiao Nanhui found him tiresome. She reached out and stuffed the half-eaten persimmon into his mouth. The world was finally quiet.
She shouldn't have started this conversation or asked that question.
"Why are you two arguing again?"
A woman’s weak voice sounded. Xiao Nanhui turned in surprise to see that Aunt Dai had risen at some point. She stood barefoot, leaning against the gauze curtain, watching her and Bo Lao.
Xiao Nanhui hurried forward to support her, pulling her toward the soft couch without a word.
"The floor is terribly damp and cold. Aunt Dai, please return to the couch quickly."
"But I haven't finished weaving today's ribbon..."
"The ribbon can be woven tomorrow just as well."
With a mix of coaxing and persuasion, she helped her back to the couch and signaled Bo Lao to bring the medicine from the stove.
"I'll have Sister Cuckoo bring two more braziers of charcoal..."
"No need." A cool but soft hand covered Xiao Nanhui’s cheek. She froze involuntarily. "I haven't seen you for only a few days, yet you seem to have aged many years."
Xiao Nanhui’s heart skipped a beat. She could barely mask her expression. She thought she had hidden it well—Bo Lao, Cuckoo, and Uncle Chen had seen nothing.
Yet who would have thought that she would be seen through so easily by this woman who was half-lost to madness?
She feigned a lighthearted air and smiled. "Aunt Dai, have you forgotten? Did we not just see each other yesterday?"
The woman wore an expression that was half-reproachful, half-amused, making it impossible to tell if she was serious or joking. "You know that is not what I meant. You insist on coaxing me like a three-year-old child."
Perhaps the expression strained her nerves; Aunt Dai’s brow furrowed again, and the scar on her face twisted with it.
The scar had turned slightly white over the years, but its terrifying nature remained undiminished. The person who had struck the blow must have come from the front, with enough force to nearly cleave that beautiful head in two.
What kind of person would be so ruthless? Was it truly the Bai family, driven to desperation after their rebellion was discovered?
The words Bai Yun had spoken to her at the Tingfeng Tower still echoed in her ears. She didn't believe him, yet she couldn't understand why he would tell her those things. Now that Bai Yun was imprisoned, she could neither tell Xiao Zhun what he had said nor seek confirmation from the Emperor.
She could only find a way to verify it herself.
Bo Lao’s grumbling could be heard faintly from outside as he struggled with the hot medicinal pot.
Xiao Nanhui hesitated for a moment, then rolled up her sleeve to reveal the iron ring on her wrist.
"Aunt Dai, have you ever seen this item? Or... the mark on it?"
The woman opened her misty eyes and looked at the object on her wrist with a mix of languor and confusion. After a long while, she spoke. "It looks quite strange. Is it some sort of defensive trinket?"
Xiao Nanhui breathed a silent sigh of relief and lowered her sleeve. "Not really. I just thought it was unusual and wanted to show you."
The iron ring had been given to her by the Emperor; the symbols engraved on it were likely the insignia or secret orders of the Imperial Guard. Aunt Dai might have seen a mark on the assailant back then, but she might not have noticed it. Regardless, her current reaction was reassuring.
*Perhaps it wasn't the Imperial House,* Xiao Nanhui thought.
After all, she could think of no reason for the royal family to destroy the Xiao family, nor could she understand why they would leave Xiao Zhun as the sole survivor. But if it wasn't the Bai family and it wasn't the Imperial House, then who was it?
As her thoughts swirled, her brow furrowed involuntarily. The next moment, Aunt Dai took her hand.
"Do not look so gloomy. Shall I tell you a story?"
Xiao Nanhui had lived with Aunt Dai for over ten years. Aunt Dai often told her stories when she was dazed or unhappy. Although most of the time they were the same few stories from old opera scripts told over and over, Xiao Nanhui never showed any impatience, always listening from beginning to end.
Xiao Nanhui nodded, and a spark of light appeared in Aunt Dai’s beautiful eyes.
"The story I want to tell is the story of a prophecy fulfilled."
Xiao Nanhui paused, a strange sensation rising in her heart. Aunt Dai had never told this story before, nor had she seen a script by that name in any other opera.
Aunt Dai clearly didn't notice Xiao Nanhui’s reaction. She was immersed in her memory, and even her previously halting speech became fluid.
"Once upon a time, there was a great family that loved to build gardens. Everyone in the family was an expert in the craft: some carved stone, some cultivated flowers, some built structures. They each had their role and worked in perfect harmony. One day, an immortal passed by their garden and found it so exquisite and mysterious that he called the head of the household out. He said he was willing to grant him a blessing and asked what he desired."
"The master said he was always troubled by not knowing when the wind would blow or the rain would fall, which often delayed the work in the garden. The deity understood and granted the man the ability to foresee the weather."
"From then on, the master found that whenever he slept, he would dream of the next day's weather. These dreams would come true the following day, without exception. As time passed, other families in the city would sometimes come to ask about the next day's weather, and the master always answered their requests."
"However, it is hard to please everyone, and the human heart is unpredictable. The carters wanted sun, but the umbrella sellers wanted rain. Over time, people began to feel dissatisfied with the master's predictions, and eventually, they grew suspicious of everything he said. Rumors began to spread: that the deity had granted the master a form of sorcery to control the weather, and that the so-called prophecies were merely a facade."
Aunt Dai paused here. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead—it was unclear if the pain had returned or if the fresh charcoal had raised the room's temperature.
Xiao Nanhui felt inexplicably tense. She wiped the sweat from the woman’s brow and asked softly, "And then?"
"Finally, one day, the people of the city gathered and surrounded the family's garden, intending to burn the entire family alive. The master prayed to the heavens, hoping the deity would take back the divine gift, but the deity never responded. In the end, to save his family's lives, the master cut out his own tongue in public. The next day, the entire family vanished from the city."
A strange feeling washed over Xiao Nanhui. She felt as though some details of this story were familiar, yet she couldn't remember where that familiarity came from.
"Aunt Dai, where did you hear this story?"
"Naturally, someone told it to me."
"Who?"
"Who?" Confusion clouded the beauty’s eyes again, and she returned to her previous sickly state. "Perhaps... a close friend."
The door was pushed open. Bo Lao walked in clumsily, carrying the bowl of medicine, and called out to Xiao Nanhui.
"Uncle Chen is outside. He says someone has come from the palace, and they are looking for you."
***
**Glossary**
