Gongsun Yin thought to himself in surprise that he actually knew there were candies in that dish. But he didn’t feel that eating a few pieces of his candy was anything worth making a fuss over. He said calmly, “Yes, so what?”

Xie Zheng’s face darkened as he ordered the guards beside him: “Throw him out.”

The two personal guards looked at each other, then at Xie Zheng’s expression, and in the end could only choose to lift Gongsun Yin and carry him out.

Gongsun Yin was dumbfounded. By the time he came back to his senses, he was already being carried toward the tent’s entrance. Furious, he pointed and shouted, “Xie Jiuheng! Are you serious? I only ate a few pieces of your candy!”

As he struggled, the candies he had stuffed in his pocket also fell out.

His eyes met Xie Zheng’s, and he felt the other man’s expression grow even colder.

Seeing that the man who usually looked down on everyone had actually crouched down to pick up the fallen pieces of tangerine peel candy one by one, Gongsun Yin was stunned for a moment.

He straightened his expression, pulled his hands free, and ordered the two guards, “You two go out first. I have important matters to discuss with the Marquis.”

The guards hadn’t dared to actually throw Gongsun Yin out. Hearing his words, and seeing that Xie Zheng made no objection, they both withdrew from the tent.

Gongsun Yin walked back to the low table, frowned, and asked, “That woman surnamed Fan gave them to you?”

Xie Zheng did not answer.

Gongsun Yin understood immediately that it must be so. Seeing his reaction, he couldn’t help but say, “It’s just a few tangerine peel candies. Can’t I pay you back?”

Xie Zheng placed the candies he had picked up back into the porcelain dish. The hard candy clinked against the porcelain with uneven, brittle sounds. He lifted his gaze slightly toward Gongsun Yin; the deep black of his eyes was cold and still, like stone lying on the ocean floor that had never seen sunlight for ten thousand years. Just meeting his gaze sent an inexplicable chill crawling up Gongsun Yin’s spine.

Rubbing the goosebumps on his arms, Gongsun Yin finally shut his mouth.

Xie Zheng asked, “What did you come to see me for?”

At that, Gongsun Yin’s expression instantly turned strange. He looked at Xie Zheng. “You have a daughter?”

Xie Zheng did not respond—only let out a derisive snort.

That was answer enough; Gongsun Yin knew it had to be nonsense. He pulled out a letter from Yanzhou and handed it to him. “It’s from the Prince of Changxin. He sent someone to deliver this—says your daughter is in his hands, and if you don’t want her used as a sacrifice to the army’s banner, you’re to exchange her for Yanzhou.”

Xie Zheng didn’t take the letter, clearly not even interested in a glance. He sneered, “So that old Suo Tuo knows he’ll never sit on that dragon throne in this lifetime and has gone mad?”

Gongsun Yin also felt there was something strange about the whole matter. By reason, if the Prince of Changxin dared to send such a letter, he must have been absolutely sure of himself. But as things stood, the whole message seemed far too absurd.

He said, “Could he have gotten some wrong information and thinks you have a daughter lost among the common folk?”

As he said that, Gongsun Yin rummaged again in his sleeve and took out a bamboo whistle, setting it on the low table with an amused look. “Right, this was sent along with the letter. Said it’s a keepsake from your daughter.”

When Xie Zheng’s gaze swept coldly over the bamboo whistle, it suddenly paused.

He recognized that bamboo whistle.

When he had been gravely injured and recuperating at the Fan family’s home, Wei Yan’s death warriors had come to search for something, slaughtering everyone there to silence witnesses. On the road as he fled with that child, the child had kept blowing this very whistle.

Both she and her younger sister had escaped safely—so how could this whistle have ended up in the hands of the Prince of Changxin’s men?

Xie Zheng picked up the bamboo whistle and examined it closely, his voice cold as he ordered, “Go and find out what happened to the Fan family’s child who was sent to Jizhou Prefecture.”

When Gongsun Yin heard that it was related to the Fan family, he quickly put the pieces together and asked, “The one who fell into the Prince of Changxin’s hands—could it be that Fan girl’s younger sister?”

Xie Zheng pressed his lips together without speaking, which was as good as an admission.

Gongsun Yin hadn’t expected such a ridiculous misunderstanding. He opened and closed the folding fan in his hand, then finally lifted his gaze toward him. “If it truly is her sister, what do you intend to do?”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Jizhou Prefecture.

Although it was already early spring, the northern winter always lingered longer than in the south. A thin layer of unmelting snow still covered the red plum blossoms in the courtyard, and the icicles hanging from the eaves sparkled under the sunlight, dripping water slowly, one bead at a time.

Fan Changyu stood under the eaves, gazing blankly at two sparrows perched on the courtyard wall, hopping and pecking at food. Her back was straight as a rod, but faint shadows lay beneath her eyes—she looked clearly haggard.

Since the day of the fire at the post station and Changning’s disappearance, she had scarcely closed her eyes.

Her younger sister had been taken away, and she didn’t even know who the enemy was.

That day, when the post station went up in flames, Aunt Zhao had run out holding Changning, but someone stabbed her with a knife—she fell to the ground in pain on the spot, watching helplessly as Changning was seized by a group of masked men.

Fortunately, the wound hadn’t been fatal, and Aunt Zhao had barely escaped with her life.

After the official investigation, the authorities speculated that it was an act of vengeance—since the assailants had chosen to take Changning away rather than kill her on the spot, they must have intended to use her as a bargaining chip to negotiate.

But three days had passed, and those who had kidnapped Changning seemed to have vanished into thin air, without sending any message at all.

Fan Changyu told herself she had no real enemies. The only ones who might bear a grudge against her would be the remnants of Qingfeng Stronghold.

Yet the government had already wiped out the remnants of Qingfeng Stronghold. Even if one or two fish had slipped through the net, they would never dare stir up such a commotion in the main city of Jizhou.

Those strange “soldiers” who had saved her that day—she had first thought they were bandits in disguise, but later heard from Li Huai’an that Lucheng, fearing that the withdrawal of troops from Jizhou had left them undermanned to suppress bandits, had sent a squad of light cavalry to assist.

So it could not have been mountain bandits who kidnapped Changning.

Fan Changyu recalled what the chief of Qingfeng Stronghold had said—that the one escorting the treasure map back then had not been her father, but a eunuch named Ma Taiyuan. She began to suspect the mysterious enemies of her late parents.

In the past two days, she had inquired everywhere about the Four Seas Escort Bureau and Ma Taiyuan, and discovered that the bandit chief had not lied.

Her only remaining lead was the records from the government’s old interrogations of those black-clad men. With no other ideas left, she had come to ask Li Huai’an for help—to see whether there was any information in those case files regarding her parents’ deaths and the two attacks on her family.

After the servants had gone in to announce her arrival, she had already waited in the front hall for the time it took to drink a cup of tea. Feeling stifled from sitting so long with her mind heavy, she stepped out into the corridor for some air.

A clerk came hastily along the covered walkway. Upon seeing Fan Changyu, he greeted her politely: “The Lord is in the Wenjing Pavilion, miss. Please come with me.”

Fan Changyu thanked him and followed at once. She had no mind to admire the beautiful scenery of the prefectural residence.

The Wenjing Pavilion had floor heating burning beneath the ground. The moment she stepped inside, a wave of warmth greeted her, shutting the early spring chill firmly outside.

Li Huai’an, dressed in a crimson official robe, sat behind the desk reviewing documents with brush in hand. Compared with the gentle, mild scholar she had first met, he now carried a new air of distance and authority in that uniform.

The clerk bowed respectfully. “My lord, Miss Fan has arrived.”

Only then did Li Huai’an lift his head from the pile of documents. He set down his brush and said, “I’ve kept Miss Fan waiting. All the archives of Jizhou Prefecture are kept in the record repository, and it took some time for my men to arrange access. We can go now.”

He belonged to the Li faction and was temporarily acting in Marquis He Jingyuan’s stead in Jizhou. For someone newly arrived to immediately request the archives was already questionable, and to bring another person inside made it even more delicate—he had therefore sent unrelated staff away first, to make it convenient.

Fan Changyu said, “It is I who have troubled you, my lord.”

Li Huai’an smiled at her gently, seeming once again like that refined and untainted scholar: “If not for Miss Fan, I might already have perished at the hands of the bandits. Looking through the records is still within my ability; there’s no need for politeness.”

Just as they were about to leave, he glanced at her attire and told the clerk to bring a cloak. “If any records are to be taken out of the archive, they must be registered. Miss Fan, you may come in with me to read them. But to avoid drawing notice, put on this cloak.”

Fan Changyu knew he was bending official rules to help her and feared bringing him trouble. She put on the cloak, pulled the hood over her head, and instantly most of her face was hidden—only the line of her chin and her pale red lips remained visible.

Li Huai’an’s gaze brushed over her, lingering for a brief moment longer than usual.

All along the way out, Fan Changyu met no one else. She could tell that Li Huai’an had deliberately cleared the path for her.

When they arrived, a line of iron-armored guards stood in strict formation outside the great door. After Li Huai’an presented his token of authority, the guards finally allowed them through.

Following him inside the tall, shadowed tower, Fan Changyu realized that all the doors and windows were covered with layers of black cloth. Only a single lamp flickered faintly, and the rows of shelves stretched seemingly without end, densely packed with bamboo scrolls and written records.

Li Huai’an held a candlestick as he walked ahead, searching among the shelves by their labels. After a while, he pulled one out. “This is from last December. Found it.”

He handed the scroll to Fan Changyu. She hurriedly opened it to read, while Li Huai’an, perhaps wanting to provide her better light, stood a little closer—yet still half a step away, just enough not to intrude.

After skimming through, Fan Changyu’s expression grew heavier. “The record states that my parents were killed by bandits in pursuit of a treasure map.”

Li Huai’an’s eyes flickered faintly, but he refrained from suggesting that the record had been altered. In Jizhou, the only person capable of manipulating official archives at will was likely the very governor who had personally gone to guard the pass at Lucheng.

He said gently, “Perhaps the bandit chief lied to you for his own survival.”

Fan Changyu said nothing. She had gone out of her way to confirm that the bandit chief had not deceived her, only then had she dared to trouble Li Huai’an.

So was this record falsified deliberately by the authorities, or simply written carelessly to close the case?

The official file contained no clue at all about the enemies who had killed her parents. Heavy-hearted, she left the archive and took her leave of Li Huai’an before returning to her temporary lodgings.

Aunt Zhao was still recovering from her wound and needed constant care. While Fan Changyu was away, the few neighbors who had survived the post station fire had been helping look after her.

The whole of Qingping County was left with only those few elderly, weak women and children; the Jizhou authorities had directly relocated them to the main city and provided monthly money and grain.

What Fan Changyu did not know was that her visit to the archives that day had already been hurriedly reported to Lucheng by fast riders.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

The night was cold and the dew heavy. Under the lamp, He Jingyuan finished reading the letters sent from Jizhou. After a long while he murmured, “I have already given him the things. Those two children know nothing; with the current situation, he cannot possibly harm them again.”

Wrinkles gathered on his aged eyelids. Considering a certain possibility, the formerly gentle scholar’s face turned harder: “Could it be that Grand Preceptor Li set a trap to seize what the Fan family holds?”

After a moment’s thought, he finally took up his brush and quickly wrote a letter. Sealing it, he handed it to the guards outside his tent: “Quick, ride hard and fast to deliver this letter back to Jizhou; give it to Wenchang.”

Zheng Wenchang was his favored disciple. Though he was not currently in Jizhou, Zheng Wenchang commanded the troops there and could do certain things on his behalf. Li Huai’an taking Fan Changyu to view the archives had been arranged by him.

The guards took the letter and hurried off.

He Jingyuan looked out at the heavy night and sighed at last: “The world is not yet in full chaos, and the people have already suffered so. If it truly falls into disorder, how many more will die?”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Within the Yanzhou camp stationed outside Lucheng, the central command tent was likewise brightly lit.

Scouts had already returned with confirmed intelligence: the child taken from the post station was without doubt Changning.

Gongsun Yin pointed on the map to the positions of Yanzhou and Chongzhou and said, “I think there’s deception involved. Setting aside the Prince of Changxin’s frivolous proposal to trade a child for Yanzhou, Yanzhou lies north of Chongzhou. The Beique are now attacking Jin Prefecture; after Jin comes only Huizhou and Yanzhou standing in their way. You earlier intentionally weakened Yan’s defenses to lure him into abandoning Jizhou and attacking Yan, to relieve the siege on Jizhou — he didn’t fall for that. So why would he now want you to cede land? Even taking the extreme case: if Jin, Hui, and Yan all fell to him, he would still need forces to resist the Beique. Why would he let you stand against the barbarians in the front while he himself marches south?”

Xie Zheng sat in the round-backed chair, his cold gaze sweeping the two locations Gongsun Yin indicated on the map. He suddenly let out a laugh: “They are falling into our ploys.”

Gongsun Yin paused, then realized, and upon looking at the map his mind cleared: “The Prince of Changxin saw through our fake weak defense of Yan and earnestly wants to protect Jizhou. Now he feigns the desire to take Yan to lure the tiger away from the mountain so he can continue to seize Jizhou?”

He could no longer hide his excitement and looked at Xie Zheng: “If we can make the Prince of Changxin mistakenly think we’ve set a trap and he actually withdraws troops to aid Yan, when the rebels attack Jizhou our previous tactics can be put to use!”

Xie Zheng finished the latter half for him: “The difficulty lies in how to make the Prince of Changxin believe we will indeed go to aid Yan.”

Gongsun Yin said, “Exactly. Though Jin Prefecture has several valiant generals under your command guarding the pass, one can’t be too certain. Troops stationed in Huizhou must not be moved; without a major troop movement it is truly hard to bait the Prince of Changxin.”

Xie Zheng lowered his eyes and stared at the Yanzhou portion of the map for a moment, then said, “I will go to Yanzhou myself.”

Gongsun Yin was startled — he was to be used as bait.

He couldn’t help but worry for him: “If the Prince of Changxin values your life more than Jizhou and truly turns back to take Yanzhou?”

Xie Zheng lifted his gaze: “Didn’t you also say the Prince of Changxin still expects me to hold off the foreign foe so he can seize the chance to march south?”

Gongsun Yin wanted to say more, but Xie Zheng smiled, the casual arch of his brow carrying a streak of arrogance: “If he truly dares come for my life, I will cut off his head on the battlefield — then the northwest chaos will indeed be completely pacified.”

Gongsun Yin was about to say that the man was truly reckless to the extreme, but he suddenly realized something; his gaze grew a little complicated.

In the battle at Chongzhou he had fallen into a trap and nearly died on the field. The rumor of his death had circulated for so long that the army’s morale had long since faltered; the Xie family army had been handed over to that fool Wei Xuan, who had squandered it in who-knows-how many defeats, and the troops’ spirit had plummeted.

Now that he had returned, he must win an absolutely brilliant victory to restore the morale that Wei Xuan had destroyed.

Gongsun Yin even suspected that Wei Yan, unable to find his corpse and fearing his comeback, had intentionally sent Wei Xuan to take over Huizhou and thoroughly ruin the Xie army.

To raise an elite force takes at least three to five years, but to destroy one only requires a few defeats.

Whether he was acting for the greater strategy or also secretly hoped to help his beloved retrieve her sister, Gongsun Yin did not press the matter then; he only said, “If the Marquis is to use this stratagem, either bring He Jingyuan under your command, or… remove him. After all, the current troops in Lucheng are all in his hands. To make a pocket capable of swallowing the Prince of Changxin’s fifty thousand men, you must deploy all of Lucheng’s forces.”

A trace of intent unfurled in Xie Zheng’s half-lidded eyes: “Having been in Lucheng these days, it is indeed time to see him.”

He had ordered inquiries into the secret behind the Fan couple for so long and found nothing—aside from Wei Yan, the only one who likely knew was He Jingyuan.