Tangerine poked its head out of the trunk, pawing at the gap in the carriage curtain to peer outside.
The world beyond had been washed spotless by the rain.
The leaves gleamed a vivid green, and the sky was as blue as freshly dyed silk. A few white clouds drifted lazily overhead.
Around noon, the procession stopped at a place called Shuangliu Market.
It was called a market, but in truth it consisted of only a few dilapidated houses clustered around a small square.
A stone-built opera stage stood in the square. Moss covered its surface, and most of the red paint had flaked away from its pillars.
Li Yi went to find a place to arrange lunch, while Shi Huai jumped down from his horse and sat on the stone steps beside the stage.
Qinghe handed him a waterskin. He took two sips and passed it back to her.
The sound of hoofbeats came from the distance, drawing nearer and growing louder.
Shi Huai looked up and saw a mounted party galloping toward them from the main road, their hooves kicking great sprays of mud into the air.
At the head rode a young man dressed in dark riding clothes. He was exceptionally tall, broad-shouldered, and looked like a long saber freshly drawn from its sheath.
Li Chengze.
He leapt down from his horse, tossed the reins to the guards behind him, and strode toward Shi Huai. Standing over him, he looked down from above.
The sunlight fell across his face. Weathered by the wind and sand of the frontier, it was even more sharply defined than the last time Shi Huai had seen him. His cheekbones stood out more prominently, and the line of his jaw had grown harder.
“The heir apparent? What brings you here?”
Shi Huai rose from the steps, brushed the dust from the hem of his robe, and tilted his head back to look at him.
Li Chengze studied his left cheek, then his right.
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. His voice was deep, as though forced up from his chest.
“You’ve lost weight.”
His gaze fell upon the bandage still wrapped around Shi Huai’s wrist. His pupils suddenly contracted.
He reached out, pulled Shi Huai’s wrist toward him, and bent his head to examine the bandage carefully.
The strip of cloth had been wrapped neatly and tied in a handsome knot. There was no sign of blood seeping through.
Shi Huai pulled his wrist free. “Just a superficial wound. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Li Chengze released him and took a step back. His gaze moved from Shi Huai’s face and swept across the surroundings before settling on Li Yi.
Li Yi dropped to one knee and gave a military salute, keeping his head lowered and not daring to look up.
Seeing him like that, Li Chengze pressed his lips together slightly. His voice was as cold as ice in the dead of winter.
“What happened?”
Li Yi pressed his forehead to the ground, his voice muffled. “This subordinate failed in his duty. I beg the heir apparent to punish me.”
Li Chengze neither said he would punish him nor that he would not. He simply stood there, looking down at Li Yi on his knees.
Everyone around them held their breath.
Even Qinghe retreated to the edge of the stage with Tangerine in her arms, not daring to make a sound.
Shi Huai spoke up.
“It has nothing to do with him. I was careless. I thought no one would be watching me once we left the capital.”
Li Chengze turned to look at him, and the coldness in his eyes faded somewhat.
He reached down and hauled Li Yi to his feet, then brushed the dust from his shoulder. His voice remained cold, but his tone had softened considerably.
“Stand up. Let this be a warning.”
Li Yi acknowledged him and retreated to one side, the back of his clothes already soaked through with cold sweat.
Li Chengze turned back to Shi Huai and took a letter from his sleeve.
“Your second uncle asked me to bring this to you. He’s uncovered some new information.”
Shi Huai took the letter and opened it, pulling out the sheet inside.
Shi Yuanping’s handwriting was usually neat and orderly, but this time it was somewhat hurried.
There were corrections in several places, as though he had been unsettled while writing.
The letter contained several pieces of news.
First, the intermediary had provided another clue.
He said that the middle-aged man claiming to be the steward of the Shen family was not actually from the Shen household. He had been hired from outside. The real steward, Shen Fu, knew nothing about the matter. Someone had used the Shen family’s name.
Second, they had found the people who were to receive them at the Yellow River ferry in Linshui County. They belonged to a bandit gang from Huaibei called the Black Tiger Gang.
The third piece of news was the one that surprised Shi Huai most.
Shi Lingyi had been confined to her quarters in the Shen residence.
Shen Zhixing had personally issued the order. She was not allowed to take a single step outside her room, and even her maidservants had been replaced.
Shi Huai folded the letter and tucked it into his sleeve before looking up at Li Chengze.
“Did my second uncle say anything else?”
Li Chengze took another sheet of paper from his sleeve and handed it to him.
“This is a portrait of the man who impersonated the Shen family steward. Your second uncle had someone draw it based on the intermediary’s description. See if you recognize him.”
Shi Huai took the paper and unfolded it.
Drawn on it was the face of a middle-aged man: round-faced, smiling, and seemingly mild and amiable.
He stared at the face for a long while. Then, suddenly, a scene flashed through his mind.
At the birthday banquet held by the Shen family the previous year, he had seen someone at the entrance of the Shen residence—a round-faced man with a smiling expression, dressed in a gray robe and standing at the gate to welcome the guests.
He had not been the Shen family’s steward, Shen Fu, but one of the Shen family’s retainers, a man surnamed Liu.
What was his given name again?
Shi Huai thought for a long time but could not remember. He handed the portrait to Li Chengze.
“Have someone investigate whether there’s a retainer surnamed Liu in the Shen household.”
Li Chengze glanced at the portrait, folded it, and tucked it into his sleeve.
“I’ll have someone look into it.”
Shi Huai nodded and turned toward the carriage.
Li Chengze followed behind him. After taking two steps, he suddenly reached out and caught Shi Huai by the arm, stopping him.
Shi Huai halted and looked back at him, a trace of puzzlement in his eyes.
Li Chengze’s fingers slowly tightened around his arm, gripping him so firmly that it seemed he was afraid Shi Huai might run away.
He looked at Shi Huai’s face, gilded by the sunlight, and moved his lips several times before speaking. His voice was slightly hoarse.
“Do you know what I thought when I heard you’d been kidnapped?”
Shi Huai said nothing.
Li Chengze released his arm and took a step back, his gaze falling upon the puddles scattered across the ground.
The puddles reflected the color of the sky, an almost painfully bright blue.
His voice was very soft, so soft that a breeze might have scattered it.
“I wondered why I was staying at the frontier. Why I kept fighting battles that would never end.”
Shi Huai looked at him, and the corners of his mouth moved faintly.
“The heir apparent, the frontier needs you.”
Li Chengze raised his head to look at him. The expression in his eyes made the heart ache.
“The court needs me at the frontier. My father needs me at the frontier. Everyone is making decisions for me, and no one has ever asked me a single question.”
“Asked whether I wanted to go. Whether I wanted to come back.”
Shi Huai did not know how to respond and could only remain silent.
Because he, too, was one of them—one of those protected by the soldiers at the frontier.
