Li Chengze stood on the stone steps beside the stage, his gaze fixed on the wheat fields in the distance.
The fields, washed by the rain, gleamed a vivid green. Whenever the wind swept across them, wave after wave rolled through the crops.
His profile was sharply defined, his jaw taut like a bow drawn to its limit.
“The imperial court needs you, and so do the people.”
Shi Huai’s voice came from behind him—not loud, but loud enough to be heard.
Li Chengze did not turn around. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as though he were smiling—or perhaps mocking himself.
“And what about you?”
Shi Huai had not expected that question. He paused, faintly startled.
“Me?”
“Do you need me?”
Their gazes collided, and the air seemed to solidify around them.
Shi Huai looked away. He turned and walked toward the carriage, then stopped after two steps. Without looking back, he said, “The heir apparent, it’s time to go.”
Li Chengze watched his retreating figure.
The slate-blue robe gleamed softly beneath the sunlight. A few strands of Shi Huai’s raven-black hair had slipped free of his hairpin and fallen across his shoulder.
His steps were neither hurried nor slow. Every one of them was steady and assured.
The winds and sands of the frontier had failed to grind his heart into stone. Instead, seeing Shi Huai had made one thing clearer than ever.
He did not want to wait any longer.
After leaving Shuangliu Market, Li Chengze did not bring up the subject again.
He rode to Shi Huai’s left, half a horse’s length behind him—not too close, not too far, just near enough to see his profile clearly.
The willow trees along the roadside had been rinsed clean by the rain. Their branches gleamed green as they swayed gently in the breeze, occasionally brushing against the horses’ backs.
Qinghe peered outside through a gap in the carriage curtain and saw Li Chengze riding beside Shi Huai.
Neither of them spoke. They simply traveled side by side in silence.
“The heir apparent is so good to Young Master Shi,” she murmured.
Tangerine, crouched on her lap, pawed at her sleeve and let out a meow, as though saying, You’re only noticing that now?
The party reached a place called Willow River Post toward evening.
It was a small town under the jurisdiction of Linshui County. It was somewhat larger than Shuangliu Market and, at the very least, had several respectable streets.
A stone stele stood at the town entrance, the three characters “Willow River Post” carved into its surface. Years of wind and rain had worn the writing nearly illegible.
The best inn in town was called the Joyful Arrival Inn.
The name was painfully plain, but the building itself was fairly impressive. The lanterns hanging outside had been polished until they shone, and the characters on the inn’s signboard had been freshly painted.
The innkeeper was a man in his thirties with a long, thin face, a narrow mustache, and a pair of shrewd eyes that darted about constantly. He was clearly an astute businessman.
When he saw more than a dozen people streaming through the entrance, his gaze lingered on Shi Huai’s face for a brief moment. His pupils contracted slightly, but in the next instant he had arranged a broad smile across his features and hurried forward to greet them.
“How many guests, sir? Rooms, or just a meal?”
Li Chengze took an ingot of silver from his sleeve and set it on the counter.
“Rooms. Give us the best available. And prepare two tables of food—one to be sent to the rooms, and the other set up outside.”
The innkeeper’s eyes fell on the silver ingot, and his smile widened until his eyes nearly disappeared. He nodded repeatedly and personally led them toward the rear courtyard.
The rear courtyard was a three-sided compound.
The main building had three rooms, as did each of the eastern and western wings. Several banana trees grew in the small courtyard between them, their leaves a lush, dripping green after the rain.
Shi Huai took the room in the center of the main building. Li Chengze stayed in the room to his left, while Li Yi and the others occupied the eastern and western wings.
The room was small but clean. The bedding had been freshly changed, and a pot of narcissus sat on the table in full bloom, filling the air with a faint, delicate fragrance.
Qinghe put away the luggage and released Tangerine from the trunk.
After being confined all day, Tangerine leaped out and sprang straight onto the bed.
It rolled around twice, rumpling the blankets, then crouched beside the pillow and began washing its face with its paws.
When it finished, it gave a smug little meow.
“You certainly know how to pick the best spot.” Qinghe went over and tried to lift Tangerine off the bed.
Tangerine clung stubbornly to the bedding with all four paws. Just as the girl and cat reached an impasse, a knock sounded at the door.
Li Chengze stood outside, holding a tray laden with food.
Steam curled gently from the bowls, carrying the distinctive fragrance of freshly cooked rice.
“You haven’t eaten this evening. Have something to tide you over.”
Shi Huai took the tray and placed it on the table.
“Have you eaten?”
“I have.”
Li Chengze sat down across from him, his eyes settling on Shi Huai’s face.
He picked up the teapot on the table and poured himself a cup.
“What are you planning to do next? Continue south, or return to the capital?”
Shi Huai wiped his hands with a handkerchief.
“Continue south. I’ve covered less than half the route my second uncle gave me. Turning back now would be a waste.”
Li Chengze nodded.
“Then get some rest early. We have another long day of travel tomorrow.”
Shi Huai watched his back disappear through the doorway, and the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
The next morning, when the party departed from Willow River Post, the sky was clear.
Sunlight slanted in from the east, bathing the entire town in a pale golden glow.
Li Chengze rode to Shi Huai’s left, just as he had the day before.
Today he had changed into a black riding outfit, a silver belt fastened around his waist and deerskin boots on his feet.
He looked dashing and spirited, drawing sidelong glances from the young women and married ladies along the street.
“You look less impressive in this outfit than you did before.”
Shi Huai turned his head to look at him, a hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth.
Li Chengze’s lips rose slightly. The curve was so faint that most people would have missed it, but Shi Huai saw it clearly.
“I was wearing armor before. This is ordinary clothing. Naturally, it can’t compare.”
The two of them exchanged a few words here and there as the carriage rolled along the official road.
People were already working in the wheat fields beside the road. They bent over to pull weeds, occasionally straightening to wipe the sweat from their brows.
In the distant villages, cooking smoke drifted lazily into the sky, while the faint sounds of crowing roosters and barking dogs carried on the breeze.
Before noon, the party reached a place called Wangmu Terrace.
It was called a terrace, but in reality it was little more than a small hill.
An old, dilapidated pavilion stood at its summit, its pillars covered with inscriptions left by travelers over the years.
Li Yi rode back from the front and reined in before Shi Huai.
“Young Master, there’s a fork in the road ahead. To the left is Linshui County, and to the right is a place called Liugou. Which way should we go?”
Shi Huai thought for a moment, then took the route map from his sleeve and unfolded it.
“Go right. We’ll head straight to Liugou.”
Li Yi acknowledged the order and galloped ahead to pass it along.
The party turned onto the road to the right.
The road was in much worse condition than the official highway, full of potholes and ruts. The carriage jolted so violently that Qinghe’s face turned pale. She clutched Tangerine tightly, terrified that the cat would be thrown out.
Shi Huai grew genuinely concerned.
He leaped down from his horse, walked over to the carriage, and lifted the curtain.
“Sister Qinghe, come out and ride a horse. The carriage is far too rough.”
Qinghe shook her head, her voice weak.
“This servant doesn’t know how to ride.”
Shi Huai reached in and helped her out of the carriage. He seated her on his horse, then walked ahead, leading it by the reins.
Qinghe sat stiffly on the saddle, gripping the reins with both hands. Her face was as pale as paper, and her lips were pressed into a thin line.
Li Chengze urged his horse forward from behind. He glanced down at Qinghe, then at Shi Huai.
“You’re walking too slowly. Let her ride my horse. Mine is steadier.”
