When Li Chengyu walked out of the main hall of Anle Residence, his steps were much lighter than when he had arrived.
The night breeze brushed his face, carrying the crisp, damp air that follows rain, further easing the gloom that had lingered between his brows. He stood beneath the corridor, gazing at the water droplets falling from the eaves, and the corners of his mouth curled upward unconsciously.
Pei Cijing had agreed.
Shen Ninghuan had agreed as well.
This nighttime visit had not been in vain.
He had originally thought that inviting Shen Ninghuan would take some effort — after all, the disaster zone was dangerous, nothing like the safety of the capital. It would have been only natural for her husband, concerned for his wife, to hesitate or refuse. Yet to his surprise, this eldest daughter of the Shen family possessed such courage. After only a short discussion, she had agreed.
The Empress was right — this woman was truly exceptional.
Li Chengyu pulled his thoughts back.
He straightened his robes.
And strode out of the estate with long, purposeful steps.
He had no time for sentiment. Pei Cijing was merely the first person he needed to call upon. Before setting out tomorrow, there were still several households to visit. The posture of a man who humbly seeks out the worthy could not be performed for only one person to see.
In the darkness, his figure in black robes quickly vanished at the end of the alley, melting into the deep night of the capital city.
In the bedroom, the candle flame still burned.
Pei Cijing sat on the edge of the bed, holding Shen Ninghuan's hand. For a long while, neither of them spoke.
The brisk, decisive energy he had shown in front of Li Chengyu moments ago had now, blown away by the night wind, scattered for the most part. What remained was a palpable sense of urgency.
They were to set out tomorrow.
To the disaster zone.
After the floods — mud everywhere, plague spreading, refugees scattered across the land.
This was not an outing to enjoy the scenery, not a trip to admire flowers in a garden. This was a genuinely grueling task. They were heading to the most chaotic, the most miserable, the most dangerous place of all.
"Wife." Pei Cijing was the first to break the silence. "There's no time to waste. We need to start packing."
Shen Ninghuan nodded.
She rose to her feet.
Without any words of lament, she simply gathered her loose hair and pinned it up with a white jade hairpin, then set to work.
Watching her efficient, no-nonsense manner, Pei Cijing felt both admiration and a pang of tenderness. Admiration for his wife's decisive nature, and tenderness because it pained him to see her toiling away with him in the middle of the night.
But there was no time to dwell on that now.
He turned and went into the study.
Closing the door behind him.
Not to pack, but for another matter.
The system mall's panel unfolded before his eyes. On the translucent interface, items flickered and refreshed rapidly. Without hesitation, he searched a single keyword — self-defense.
The items on the panel filtered down swiftly, until they settled on a single entry.
[Exquisite Hand Crossbow · Legendary]: Compact in size, concealable within a sleeve. Simple to operate, impressive in power. Capable of rapid fire, with an effective range of twenty paces. Its specially crafted armor-piercing bolts can penetrate ordinary iron armor. Comes with twelve bolts and a spare bowstring.
Points: 1500.
Only fifteen hundred points.
Pei Cijing exchanged for it without a moment's hesitation.
[Exchange successful. Spent 1500 melon-seed points. Current balance...]
He didn't bother to listen to the balance.
A small crossbow appeared in his palm. Black throughout, its arms forged from fine iron, its stock carved from hardwood. It felt weighty in the hand, yet not cumbersome.
He tested the bowstring, loaded a bolt, and checked the sight. Once he confirmed everything was in order, he wrapped the crossbow and its twelve bolts in a soft cloth and tucked it into his robes.
This was for his wife's protection.
He pushed open the study door. When he returned to the bedroom, Shen Ninghuan had already folded several changes of clothes, neatly arranged in a rattan trunk. Beside it sat another trunk holding quilts, cotton towels, and several pairs of thick-soled cloth socks.
As for common herbs — honeysuckle, isatis root, and huoxiang zhengqi powder, used to ward off plague and clear heat — the servants had already been sent to prepare those.
She was crouched by the trunk, checking for anything they might have missed, murmuring under her breath: "We should bring some dry rations too. Once we're there, there might not be proper food..."
Pei Cijing walked over, crouched down beside her, and handed her the cloth bundle.
"Wife, this is for you."
Shen Ninghuan took the bundle and unwrapped it. There lay the small black crossbow.
The candlelight reflected off the iron arms, casting a faint, cold gleam. The crossbow was no larger than the palm of a hand, fitting snugly in her grip. Beside the mechanism lay twelve short bolts with sharp, glinting tips.
"This is..." She looked up at Pei Cijing.
"For self-defense." Pei Cijing sat down beside her, taking the crossbow to demonstrate. "Here — pull the string, hook it into this groove. Slide the bolt in from this side. Aim, and squeeze this trigger. Simple. It doesn't take much strength."
He demonstrated once.
Then had Shen Ninghuan try it herself.
Her fingers were nimble. After only two attempts, she had mastered the technique — drawing the string, loading the bolt, aiming, and squeezing the trigger, all in one smooth motion.
"Range of twenty paces, and it can pierce iron armor." Pei Cijing nodded approvingly as he watched her deft movements, but couldn't resist adding, "This is just a precaution. Hopefully you'll never need to use it. As long as I'm by your side, you won't have to lift a finger."
Shen Ninghuan tucked the crossbow away and looked up at him, a hint of a smile curving her lips. She said nothing, only gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
Then, without further ado, they resumed packing.
There was no telling what awaited them in the disaster zone, so everything they might need had to be accounted for. Pei Cijing dug out a few old, hard-wearing garments and stuffed a pair of sturdy leather boots into the trunk — in the mud left behind by floods, boots mattered more than anything else.
Shen Ninghuan, meanwhile, brought over a stack of dry provisions from the kitchen — baked flatbreads, air-dried jerky, and a small pouch of fried rice. All things that would keep well and wouldn't spoil easily.
They packed until well past midnight.
Both rattan trunks were crammed full to the brim.
Shen Ninghuan checked everything once more, and only when she was certain nothing had been left behind did she close the lids.
Outside the window, the sky was beginning to lighten.
The rain had stopped at some point. Along the eastern horizon, a thin line of pale dawn broke through the leaden clouds. Morning light seeped through the gap, falling upon the wisteria trellis in the courtyard, washed glossy by the rain. Tiny droplets still clung to the pale purple petals, glittering faintly in the dawn glow.
Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan walked out of Anle Residence side by side, crossed the corridor, and made their way toward the main gate of the marquis's estate.
Someone was already waiting for them at the gate.
Madam Zhou stood within the threshold, clutching a handkerchief, her eyes red — she had clearly been crying.
Pei Fugui stood beside her, his face still wearing that usual cheerful grin. But beneath that smile, there was a faint, barely perceptible reluctance to let them go.
Pei Cijing's heart softened at the sight of his mother. He quickened his pace and stepped forward.
"Father, Mother, we're off." He spoke with a lightness he did not entirely feel. "Take care of yourselves while we're gone. Don't worry about us."
Madam Zhou's eyes reddened again.
She stepped forward, reached out, and grabbed hold of Pei Cijing's ear.
"You little brat!" Her voice was choked with sobs, tinged with exasperation, but above all, overflowing with heartache. "I really don't know what goes on in that head of yours! Going to such a dangerous place, and taking your wife along with you—what if something happens to her?!"
Pei Cijing winced as his ear was twisted, tilting his head and pleading repeatedly, "Mother, Mother, easy, easy—your son didn't have a choice, you know! I was invited by the Sixth Prince, and your daughter-in-law was personally recommended by Her Majesty the Empress. We both have official business to attend to!"
As he spoke, he reached up to protect his ear, then hastily added, "As for my wife's safety, Her Majesty will assign ten female guards solely for her protection. I'll also make sure to keep her safe. You can rest easy!"
Madam Zhou pursed her lips, loosening her grip slightly, but she didn't let go right away.
Of course, she knew this was official business.
Last night, the Sixth Prince had come to their door in person, saying there was no need to make a fuss, but with such a distinguished guest arriving, how could the servants dare not inform the other members of the household?
So she had seen with her own eyes what was happening with her son being sent on disaster relief.
She also understood the principle that imperial orders could not be defied.
But understanding was one thing—her son had never once left her side since he was born. Even during the nine days he was shut away for the metropolitan examination, he was still within the capital. The distance wasn't far; it couldn't be called a separation.
But today, in just a single night, she was told that her son would be following the convoy to Yunyang, a place ravaged by floods. How far was Yunyang from the capital?
Over six hundred li!
This time, when he would return was anyone's guess. Disaster relief work was a tangled mess of affairs—sorting everything out and settling things properly would take no small amount of time.
A beloved son traveling far away already left Madam Zhou's heart feeling empty.
But then this wretched son of hers went and packed up his darling wife to take along as well!
Her heart ached at her son's departure, but it ached even more at her daughter-in-law's—Ninghuan, that girl, had been filial and considerate ever since she married into the family. Madam Zhou had long since come to cherish her as if she were her own daughter.
"You'd better keep Ninghuan safe." Madam Zhou let go of his ear, her tone still fierce, but her eyes were redder than before. "If she loses even a single strand of hair, I'll never forgive you!"
Pei Cijing rubbed his reddened ear and nodded repeatedly: "Understood, understood. I'll protect her well—not a single strand of hair will fall!"
He said it with all the conviction in the world, but inwardly he couldn't help grumbling—so if his wife lost a single strand of hair, he'd get a beating? So not only did he have to guard her safety, he also had to act as her hair protector?
His wife shed a strand or two of hair every time she combed it. How was he supposed to account for that?
If that was going to be blamed on him...
By the heavens!
He'd be utterly wronged!
While he was muttering to himself, Shen Ninghuan stepped forward and took Madam Zhou's hands, speaking in a gentle voice: "Mother need not worry too much. The Sixth Prince will be traveling with us this time, so you can rest assured about our safety. I will take good care of your son, and I will take good care of myself."
Madam Zhou looked at the gentle, elegant face before her, at the calm and resolute look in her eyes, and the worry in her heart began to ease somewhat.
She patted the back of Shen Ninghuan's hand. Her lips moved, as if she wanted to say something, but found her throat too tight, and nothing would come out.
Pei Fugui, watching from the side, cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"Alright, alright. The children have grown up; they can't stay by their parents' side forever." He spoke, still with that genial, smiling demeanor, but with a touch more solemnity than usual. "This time it's official business—it's state affairs, going to save the people from disaster. Our children have done well for themselves. As parents, we should be proud."
He paused, turning to Pei Cijing with a serious look: "It's getting late. You should be on your way soon—don't miss the appointed time."
Pei Cijing looked at his father's moon-round smiling face, and a peculiar feeling welled up in his chest. His father was always that cheerful, easygoing sort, but only now did he notice the faint red streaks at the corners of his father's eyes, hidden beneath that smile, hardly noticeable.
He said nothing more. Instead, he took a step back, straightened his robes and hat, clasped his hands together, and bowed deeply and properly to his parents.
Shen Ninghuan followed suit, bowing as well.
"Father, Mother, take care of yourselves." Pei Cijing straightened up, his voice deeper and heavier than before.
Madam Zhou finally couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears fell from her eyes. She turned her head aside and covered her mouth with her handkerchief, stifling her sobs.
Pei Fugui reached out and patted her shoulder, saying nothing. He watched as his son and daughter-in-law boarded the carriage, watched the curtain fall, watched the carriage rumble out of the alley.
Morning light fell upon the flagstones at the mouth of the alley, bathing the departing carriage in a warm golden glow.
The carriage gradually disappeared at the end of the long street.
Madam Zhou still stood at the doorway, clutching her handkerchief, staring blankly at the empty alley. The morning breeze blew past, stirring a few loose strands of hair at her temples.
Pei Fugui stood beside her, his gaze also fixed on the direction of the alley.
After a long while.
He finally withdrew his gaze and gently patted his wife's shoulder.
"Let's go back," he said, his voice not loud, but carrying a steady, unwavering certainty. "The children will come home safe."
Madam Zhou didn't answer. She simply took one more look at the empty flagstone road, then slowly turned and walked back into the residence.
The carriage rumbled along the long street.
Pei Cijing leaned against the carriage wall, gazing at the street scenes passing by outside the window, silent for a long while. Morning light streamed through the gaps in the curtain, falling upon Shen Ninghuan's profile, making her clear, limpid eyes shine exceptionally bright.
She reached out and gently placed her hand over his.
"What is my husband thinking about?"
Pei Cijing snapped back to reality, turned his hand over to clasp hers, and curved the corners of his mouth: "I was thinking about how hard Mother yanked my ear just now. That was quite a grip. It's lucky you have such a way with her—the moment you spoke up, she let go."
Shen Ninghuan curved her lips in a faint smile, but didn't call out his feigned nonchalance. She knew her husband was reluctant to leave too—he just didn't say it.
When the carriage came to a stop at the east gate of the city, the sky was already bright.
Pei Cijing jumped down from the carriage, then turned back to help Shen Ninghuan down. After queuing up to verify their identities, the two stood side by side beneath the city gate, looking ahead to see the massive disaster relief convoy.
Soldiers from the Three Thousand Camp were already lined up outside the city walls, their armor glinting with a cold, grim light in the morning sun. The ranks were orderly, the banners snapping in the wind, and an air of solemn austerity could be felt even from a distance.
Grain carts stretched on one after another, their high piles of grain covered with straw matting and bound tightly with hemp rope. Beside them were a dozen or more carts loaded with medicinal herbs, their crates sealed with the stamps of the Imperial Medical Bureau—clearly hastily gathered overnight.
Many of the accompanying officials had already arrived, gathering in small clusters at the city gate. Some chatted in low voices, others checked their luggage.
Attendants led horses and carried packs, bustling about through the crowd.
Passing through the city gate.
Pei Cijing helped Shen Ninghuan up into the carriage. His gaze swept over the crowd, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of appreciation—this disaster relief mission wouldn't be lonely, after all.
There were indeed many familiar faces in this convoy.
In the ranks of the Three Thousand Camp, a familiar figure stood at the front of the column—tall and striking, with a cold, composed expression. It was none other than Hereditary Prince Pei Ciling.
He wore a black form-fitting outfit, a scabbarded blade at his waist, and was just giving instructions to the officer beside him. Catching sight of Pei Cijing from a distance, he gave a slight nod by way of greeting.
Pei Cijing nodded back.
Ever since Shen Ningyue had become pregnant, the two brothers—though still not particularly close—had seen the atmosphere between them soften considerably. Pei Ciling had started from the rank of centurion in the Three Thousand Camp and, after considerable effort, had finally gained a firm foothold. With the entire camp mobilized to escort the disaster-relief grain supplies, he naturally came along.
On the other side, Shen Mingxuan stood with two officials from the Court of Judicial Review. He looked up, spotted Pei Cijing, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face before he reverted to his usual solemn demeanor, offering a distant salute with cupped hands.
Pei Cijing returned the gesture, thinking to himself, so my brother-in-law has come as well.
Back when they had made their return visit after the wedding, Shen Mingxuan had been investigating the hidden-chamber case at the Yunyang commandery magistrate's residence. Now, with the Yunyang dike breach and embezzlement case unfolding, it was only natural that the Court of Judicial Review would send someone to get to the bottom of it.
Those two cases—
Perhaps they really were connected somehow.
Looking further to the side, he spotted several familiar figures—Hua Yuan, the director of the Imperial Medical Institute, leading a few imperial physicians carrying medicine chests, checking inventory beside a cart piled with herbs.
Hua Yuan wore his usual manner, steady and composed, flipping through a ledger as he calmly gave instructions to a young physician beside him. The young physician nodded repeatedly, scribbling notes furiously with a brush.
Pei Cijing understood at once.
After a flood, the greatest fear was plague. With victims gathered together, bodies rotting, water sources contaminated—one small misstep and a major epidemic could sweep through. Having several imperial physicians accompany the convoy would at least allow the outbreak to be controlled at the earliest possible stage.
He was about to look away when he suddenly heard a familiar voice from behind.
“Brother Pei!”
Pei Cijing turned to see Administrator Wang walking toward him, followed by Academician Lin and Liu Zhixing. All three wore practical travel clothes with leather belts at their waists, their strides brisk yet composed.
Administrator Wang came to a stop and saluted with cupped hands. “Compiler Pei, I didn't expect you to be here too.”
Pei Cijing returned the salute and said with a smile, “Indeed. Last night, the Sixth Prince paid a personal visit to my home, and I agreed to join. The relief strategy was drafted by us together, so this assignment is only fitting.”
Administrator Wang nodded, a hint of emotion in his gaze. “Yes. The chancellor of the Hanlin Academy said that since the strategy was written there, now that a major disaster has truly struck, it's only right to send the people who wrote it out to the field to test it—to see which provisions work, which need improvement. You have to see it with your own eyes to know.”
“So I volunteered, and Academician Lin came along as well. As for Liu—he received a transfer order from the Eighth Prince. The whole lot of us are taking the strategy from paper and putting it into the mud, so to speak.”
Liu Zhixing stood off to one side, retaining his usual ethereal, indifferent air. He wore a deep blue travel robe with sleeves slightly rolled up, revealing the white inner garment beneath, and carried a bamboo book basket on his back, packed to the brim—clearly stuffed with documents and case files related to the relief strategy.
“It's a good chance to see firsthand whether what the strategy says can actually be applied in a disaster zone,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes betraying a quiet gleam of anticipation.
Though the Eighth Prince's direct transfer order had left a bad taste in his mouth—like being forced to take sides—sometimes there were things you simply couldn't refuse.
So this was how it had to be.
Either way, it was a rare opportunity. Take things as they come.
Pei Cijing shook off his thoughts and saluted the three of them. “With colleagues like you supporting this mission, the relief effort will surely be handled well.”
Administrator Wang smiled and was about to say something when a horn blast sounded in the distance.
The horn was long and deep, sounding one after another, echoing over the eastern city gate. Everyone instinctively stopped talking and looked up.
At the city gate, the commander of the Three Thousand Camp shouted, “Time's up—prepare to move out!”
The soldiers of the Three Thousand Camp mounted their horses in unison, hooves striking the cobblestones in a steady rhythm as the grain-escort column began to inch forward, wheels grinding over damp roads with low, rumbling creaks. The accompanying officials and attendants found their positions and fell into line.
Pei Cijing strode quickly back to the carriage and lifted the curtain. Shen Ninghuan sat upright inside, the rattan chest before her, a cloth bundle at her side.
The ten female guards were already on horseback, flanking the carriage on both sides.
Each one lean and capable.
Long blades at their waists, eyes fixed straight ahead.
“My lady, we're setting off,” he said, gripping the carriage shaft and looking up at her.
Shen Ninghuan gave a slight nod. Her gaze swept past his shoulder to the vast procession at the city gate, to the pennants fluttering and armor gleaming in the morning light, to the official road winding toward Yunyang. She drew in a slow breath.
Pei Cijing climbed up onto the carriage and took a seat beside the driver. Yuanbao was there too, clutching the reins, chest puffed out with vigor, as if this were a momentous affair.
The horn sounded once more.
The column began to move.
Thousands of men—grain carts, carriages, cavalry—strung out in a long line, slowly filed out through the eastern gate. The rumble of wheels, the clatter of hooves, the clash of armor, all merged into a heavy current that drifted farther and farther away in the morning light of the capital city...
