Midsummer pomegranate flames blazed, the scorching sun melting gold.
Beside the Zhuo River on the southern bank of Yumu County.
Uniform bugle calls rose incessantly amid the steaming heat waves.
Large beads of sweat trickled down temples as iron hammers struck wooden piles with thunderous booms. The Jinwu Guards, unarmored, shouldered massive stones, their feet sinking knee-deep into the silt, leeches crawling up their calves unnoticed.
The gravel path scorched under the blazing sun.
Stepping onto it, one could feel the searing heat through their soles.
Yan Yiqing walked along the embankment, her gaze sweeping over the newly built section of the dam, followed by several carts loaded with rice porridge and bean soup.
“This official has seen Lord Yan!” someone noticed her arrival.
“No need for formalities.” Yan Yiqing looked around and frowned. “Where is Xing Wanyang? This official has business with her.”
The first Jinwu Guard who spotted Yan Yiqing shook her head, but the one beside her poked her head out and called loudly, “In response to Lord Yan, the Xing team is at the very end! No one here but her can read the river works diagram.”
“Thank you.” Yan Yiqing nodded.
…
“General!”
Before Yan Yiqing could speak, Xing Wanyang, who was wiping sweat from her brow, noticed her figure. Her eyes lit up as she called, “General, why have you come?!”
Yan Yiqing handed over a bamboo tube filled with mung bean water. “It looks like it’s taking shape. How much longer until the southern bank dam is fully repaired?”
Xing Wanyang could see her lips moving.
But she couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Xing Wanyang gave a few instructions to those around her, handed over the diagram in her hand, and pulled her legs free from the mud. She shook off the muck haphazardly and leaped onto the bank in three quick bounds, like a nimble little fish.
“What did the General just say?” Xing Wanyang asked as she walked over, her cheeks dotted with flecks of mud baked hard by the sun. “It was too far; this subordinate didn’t hear clearly.”
“How soon will the southern bank dam be completed?”
“With so many hands here, the fastest would be… before the sun sets tomorrow.” Xing Wanyang took the bamboo tube from Yan Yiqing, tilted her head back to gulp it down, and caught her gaze lingering on her waist. She whined aggrievedly, “Endless work that can’t even fill our bellies—this subordinate is about to waste away to skin and bones.”
Finding nothing of interest, Yan Yiqing frowned and asked, “Where is your waist badge?”
Xing Wanyang tilted her head. “Waist badge?”
“The Jinwu Guard token.”
“What does the General need the waist badge for? Isn’t the fish talisman more useful?” Thinking Yan Yiqing needed to borrow her Jinwu Guard identity, Xing Wanyang fished the iron-copper token from her loosened sash, untied the stubborn tassel knot, and handed it over. “The movements are too big when stacking stones; this way it’s less likely to get lost. Just now, several people were digging in the mud for their waist badges.”
Yan Yiqing’s eyesight and memory were exceptional.
A single glance had etched the shape of that half token into her mind.
Weighing the copper token in her hand, Yan Yiqing made her judgment in an instant. She was almost certain that the Jinwu Guards’ waist badges and the half token Zhao Huairen had dropped were made by the same Bureau of Manufactures.
The Jinwu Guards answered directly to the Emperor.
The former Grand General had died in battle at the Ancestral Temple seven years ago.
The Wu Xuan Emperor had no reason to kill Zhao Guishan, so the perpetrator couldn’t have been the Jinwu Guards. That left only…
“Wanyang, have you ever seen a Forbidden Army token?”
Her rippling peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly.
Her voice shed its usual carefree laziness.
Seeing how serious Yan Yiqing was, Xing Wanyang dropped her joking demeanor and recalled earnestly, “This subordinate saw one while on guard duty in the palace. The details are fuzzy, but… the Forbidden Army’s waist badges come from the same Bureau of Manufactures as the Jinwu Guards’.”
The fiery canopy blazed overhead.
Yet her limbs plunged into an icy abyss without light.
The Forbidden Army was commanded by the Wang Family… Huairen’s father-killing enemy might be… her closest kin.
“They should be very similar? The General could—” Xing Wanyang’s words were cut off by the token flying toward her face. She caught it instinctively, then realized Yan Yiqing had already dashed away.
Zhao Huairen’s expression flashed through her mind: the slightly reddened corners of her eyes, her tightly pressed thin lips, her voice colder than usual, and her shattered palm.
No wonder Huairen had been so upset.
If only she’d noticed sooner…
Useless! She was blind in both eyes and heart!
Her movements swift as the wind, kicking up yellow dust, her snow-green robes stained with spots of dirt. Xing Wanyang furrowed her brows and shouted at Yan Yiqing’s retreating back, “General, slow down… your wound hasn’t healed yet…!”
Her voice trailed off intermittently in the wind.
But it failed to slow Yan Yiqing’s steps as it reached her ears.
–
The Official Residence, nearing noon.
Cicadas shrieked like boiling water, wave after wave, grating on the nerves.
The simple study, however, was like an island insulated from the summer heat. The north-facing wooden window was half-open, and the clean scent of ink drifted slowly through the air, bringing a touch of refreshing coolness.
Zhao Huairen sat primly behind the desk.
Even in the oppressive heat, her posture remained impeccable.
A few strands of inked hair dampened by sweat clung to her smooth forehead, yet it did nothing to mar the beauty’s frosty demeanor. Zhao Huairen skimmed through the ledger Qin An had presented, her thin lips parting as her voice flowed like cool stream water. “Well done. Deliver it to Luo Xiutong’s residence.”
Hearing this, Qin An’s tense back relaxed imperceptibly.
“Take men and seal the stone quarry in my name.” Her gaze fell on the letter stamped with the official seal, and Zhao Huairen paused before instructing, “Don’t dismiss the commoners outright. Per their recruitment terms, settle the wages owed to the laborers.”
“Yes.” Qin An nodded.
A flicker of dark light passed through her light-brown phoenix eyes. Zhao Huairen pushed the stamped letter and the forged ledger from the night before to the corner of the desk, saying flatly, “Luo Xiutong bribed Qiu Mingsong, oppressed the people, and privately quarried stone for profit.”
“Match the amounts in the ledger and raid the residences of Qiu and Luo.”
“This subordinate obeys.” Qin An stepped forward, picked up the ledger and letter from the desk corner, but her expression carried a trace of reluctance.
Zhao Huairen looked up. “What is it?”
The little parrot who usually beamed with energy.
Today looked plucked and listless.
Qin An rubbed the ledger’s cover, hemming and hawing without spitting out a word.
“Should we convict them with real charges?” Zhao Huairen’s long lashes lowered slightly, her voice betraying no emotion, like a teacher testing a student. “Seek truth and be practical—your thinking is not wrong, but it doesn’t apply in many cases.”
That wasn’t what troubled her.
Having followed the Heir Apparent for so long.
Having seen so much filth, she was no longer as naive as at the start.
Reading her hesitation, Zhao Huairen furrowed her sword brows. “Hm…? Then what is it?”
Her voice was cool yet gentle.
Like moonlight, like a breeze, always soothing the mind.
The snow-white figure shot through the scorching front courtyard like a loosed arrow, startling birds hiding in the tree shade. Yan Yiqing nearly crashed into the yard. Her left shoulder wound throbbed from the violent run, a faint warm wetness seeping through the thin fabric—
Her ink-jade eyes churned like a disturbed deep pool.
Yan Yiqing scanned the yard, her gaze finally settling on the nearby study.
As long as she recalled Huairen’s aggrieved eyes, her heart felt trampled into the mud, leaving only one thought in her mind: to stay by Huairen’s side, not to… leave her alone in the darkness.
Poise, wound—all cast aside.
Sweat soaked her thin shirt.
Clinging to her body, outlining the lines rising and falling with her ragged breaths.
Her eye corners flushed unnaturally red. She strode to the closed study door, her breath hot with sweat and blood. Sensing the faint coolness from within, Yan Yiqing raised her hand to push the door open heedlessly—
Just as her fingertips neared the door panel.
Snowflakes melting lava—her movement halted abruptly.
A breeze brushed her cheek. An extremely soft yet utterly familiar voice pierced through the door. As always, distant, steady, laced with the composure of one commanding the overall situation. Zhao Huairen analyzed the situation methodically.
“Do you think… even with new people, nothing will change?” The voice from inside came clearly.
Cool ice water seeped straight to the heart.
Instantly extinguishing that blaze called “fear.”
Her wildly pounding heart settled back into place, but it thudded painfully in Yan Yiqing’s chest. A sharp sting shot from her left shoulder, followed by overwhelming exhaustion and… a belated embarrassment.
Huairen was smarter than her, exquisitely sharp-witted, long able to stand on her own. But for some reason, every time she thought of Huairen… it was that little girl, and she couldn’t help fearing—worrying that in a blink, she’d vanish.
The anxiety and panic on her face receded like the tide.
Her hand at her side clenched into a fist, clearing her muddled mind completely.
The clear female voice passed through the door, gently entering Yan Yiqing’s ears, bringing peace like a stream that soothed all.
“Profit turns people into demons. Even with new people, the commoners… merely face new oppression.” Qin An’s voice grew quieter, her eyes downcast as if lost in childhood memories.
“No one can guarantee the next one will be good.”
To Qin An, Zhao Huairen.
Was not just a superior, but someone she wished to follow.
Hearing this answer, a fleeting regret flashed in Qin An’s eyes, unnoticed by most, but she felt no disappointment: the world was like that; even facing the sun cast shadows—who could promise eternal absence of darkness?
“But… don’t keep the bad ones,” Zhao Huairen’s phoenix eyes lowered slightly as she picked up the purple-tipped brush from the holder, sketching lightly. “If it’s no good, just replace them again.”
A problem without a solution.
Perhaps needed no answer at all.
With a delicate hand parting clouds, the dilemma that had troubled her for days was resolved with the Heir Apparent’s four-tael lever moving a thousand jin.
“Thank you, Heir Apparent!” Her dull feathers regaining their vibrancy, Qin An gazed at Zhao Huairen with admiration, like a bird beholding a gem spilling rainbow light. “Heir Apparent… Heir Apparent is the smartest person Qin An has ever met!”
Separated by a thin wooden door.
She silently took in their conversation.
Hearing Zhao Huairen’s words, those soul-stealing peach-blossom eyes showed no ripple, as if she’d long anticipated it—or as if anything Zhao Huairen said was fine.
The brush handle made the beauty’s fingers appear even fairer.
The ink bloomed elegantly on the paper, no less refined than its owner.
Sensing her gaze, the phoenix eyes with slightly upturned corners flashed amusement. Zhao Huairen, head lowered, said, “What is it? Do you have more to ask?”
Qin An flushed and withdrew her gaze.
She bowed hastily, then turned somewhat clumsily.
With a “creak,” before she reached the door, it opened on its own.
…
Young Master Yan?!
Her pupils dilated slightly. Qin An bowed her head. “This official has seen Young Master Yan.”
Yan Yiqing nodded impassively, her gaze carrying a scrutinizing edge, like a kitten scenting fish, casually mentioning her relationship with Zhao Huairen. “You may go. This official has private matters to discuss with my husband.”
This was something Qin An would normally welcome.
But just now, she’d been utterly captivated by the Heir Apparent.
Like a moon goddess… so beautiful, so gentle… She… really wanted the Heir Apparent to pat her head…
Though not improper thoughts.
But upon scrutiny, she’d harbored fancies toward the Heir Apparent.
So facing Yan Yiqing now, Qin An shrank like a mouse before a cat—and scurried out.
The moment she heard “Young Master Yan,” Zhao Huairen set aside the unfinished dispatch, putting down the purple brush.
Noticing her odd tone toward Qin An.
Understanding the reason, a hint of amusement crossed her cool phoenix eyes.
The little cat was flirtatious, but… extremely jealous.
Like honey dissolving in warm water, once Yan Yiqing entered, Zhao Huairen’s gaze naturally clung to her. Spotting the sweat on her forehead, her brows furrowed in displeasure. She was about to speak—when she noticed the blood seeping through her collar.
