The rain in Dun Capital had stopped, and Qi Zhuyin should have been setting out on her return journey.
She met Hua Xiangyi at the palace gate. A carriage waited nearby, but Qi Zhuyin had her Zhujiu weapon with her. She said to Hua Xiangyi, “Let’s walk for a while before we leave.”
Hua Xiangyi noticed that Qi Zhuyin’s broken five-bead hairpin was still hanging by golden threads, suspended in her hair as if it had always belonged there. It did not look out of place on the Grand Commander at all—if one ignored the bluish-purple bruising on her face.
Qi Wei raised his hand, signaling for the carriage to follow behind. After Qi Zhuyin and Hua Xiangyi had walked a little ahead, he trailed them at a discreet distance.
A warm breeze drifted through the streets. The market was bustling with crowds, the air thick with the mingled scent of sweat and fried food. Even the spring blossoms in the distance seemed coated in a layer of grease, making Qi Zhuyin feel stifled.
“Do you want some?” Qi Zhuyin asked as she passed a sugar figurine stall.
The stall stood right by the road, with carts and pedestrians stirring up dust. Hua Xiangyi, the treasured daughter of the Hua family, had rarely stepped outside before coming to Dun Capital and had been raised in deep seclusion. She looked at Qi Zhuyin.
Qi Zhuyin flicked the remaining copper coins from her sleeve pouch lightly toward her and said with satisfaction at the soft “buzzing” sound, “I have money.”
This street was not brightly lit, but Qi Zhuyin’s bruised lips curved into a smile. Behind her, lanterns lit up one after another. She looked like a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl who had escaped home to play, carefree and unconcerned about anything, only thinking about candy.
Hua Xiangyi clenched her handkerchief, lifted a finger, and pointed to one of the sugar figurines. “I want this one.”
She felt shy saying it. That faint emotion lingered in her brows. This was something she had never done before—something she would never have done in the past.
Qi Zhuyin tossed the coins to the vendor and handed the sugar figurine to Hua Xiangyi. She did not care that she was left without money; she had never really had money to begin with, and money never stayed in her hands.
Hua Xiangyi carefully took the sugar figurine and examined it under the light without showing it openly. She had once glimpsed sugar figurines through a gap in a carriage curtain, separated by attendants. There were sweets in the palace too—when the Empress Dowager was still active, she often had Aunt Liuxiang prepare them for her.
Qi Zhuyin rubbed the bruises on her face with her fingertips. Through overlapping reflections, she tilted her head slightly to look at her own reflection in a water vat.
Qi Zhuyin was of noble birth, yet Hua Xiangyi often felt she did not seem like it. She was as unrestrained as a wandering traveler. Hua Xiangyi had been in Qidong for half a year and had never seen Qi Zhuyin lose her temper, as though nothing in the world was worth her anger.
“Does the Grand Commander often come here?” Hua Xiangyi asked.
“Anyone in Dun Capital daring enough to spend ‘tiger-skin money’ is here. I come here most of the time just to borrow money,” Qi Zhuyin said, then removed the beaded hairpin from her hair, a trace of regret in her voice. “That five-bead hairpin was a reward from the court. I never dared to sell it. Who would’ve thought it would break in the palace? I might as well have sold it earlier.”
Hua Xiangyi said, “The family estates…”
Qi Zhuyin interrupted her before she could finish. “I’m here today to tell you this: from now on, all the family estates and shops will be managed by you. Whether you rent them out or sell them is entirely up to you.” She turned seriously to face Hua Xiangyi. “Let’s speak openly.”
Qi Zhuyin did not move the conversation to a teahouse. She preferred the streets; standing here was her stance. She was not afraid of anyone’s gaze.
“I should thank you for the Eight-City grain reserves matter,” Qi Zhuyin gave a slight bow. Her long hair fell across her back. She straightened again. “Otherwise, this time would have been perilous.”
Hua Xiangyi turned slightly aside, refusing the bow. “The credit belongs to Chengzhi.”
Qi Zhuyin looked at her. “Pan Lin didn’t tell me. I only thank you.”
Hua Xiangyi felt so flustered under Qi Zhuyin’s gaze that she nearly melted her sugar figurine.
“But I will be direct,” Qi Zhuyin said. “You told me about the Eight-City grain reserves—was it so I would do something for you?”
She spoke bluntly, completely forgetting anything like subtlety.
Hua Xiangyi was rather strange too.
Qi Zhuyin had pondered this repeatedly but still could not understand why Hua Xiangyi had revealed the grain warehouse matter to her. Without her reminder in the palace, the outcome of that situation would have been uncertain.
Hua Xiangyi held her pale neck slightly stiff, watching the sugar figurine amid the noisy street, and said, “The Grand Commander does not need to do anything for me. The Grand Commander just… needs to defeat the Border Sands.”
Qi Zhuyin stared at Hua Xiangyi and suddenly leaned forward, bracing a hand on her knee as she tilted her head to study her expression. “That’s it?”
Hua Xiangyi was startled. This sudden approach was just like the last time Qi Zhuyin had lifted a bridal veil—direct and without warning, giving her no time to prepare.
“You helped Yao Wenyu escape in Dun Capital…” Qi Zhuyin seemed as if she had just woken up from a daze, sensing that Hua Xiangyi smelled faintly of flowers, exactly as she had expected. But as she drifted, she suddenly realized Hua Xiangyi was still quietly holding the sugar figurine, waiting for her to continue.
“…and you told me about the grain warehouses,” Qi Zhuyin covered her earlier lapse. “Was it because you were married into my father’s household?”
Hua Xiangyi said, “The one who saved Yuan Jue was Chengzhi.”
Qi Zhuyin shook her head firmly. “It was you.”
Hua Xiangyi had repeatedly attributed credit to others, as if unable to acknowledge the boundary that blocked her—the Empress Dowager’s favor. The fading light in the street was swallowed by night, lanterns glowing like falling stars. The smell of fried food lingered faintly, the streets still stifling and warm. Hua Xiangyi seemed out of place here.
“As early as the Xian-de years, my aunt would occasionally set examinations for me, most frequently during spring plowing,” Hua Xiangyi said, lowering the sugar figurine as if handling the shadow of the past. “Those were actually accounts from the Eight Cities. The more I calculated, the clearer they became. In the Xian-de year, I once advised my aunt to let Jiang Qingshan pass, but they believed Jiang Qingshan alone could govern thirteen cities. That year, Zhongbo was ravaged by famine, and in the following years, the grain distributed from the Eight Cities damaged the vitality of the Six Prefectures. Too many people died.”
She raised her head slightly. “More people died than in the slaughter of the Border Sands.”
Hua Xiangyi lived in the deep palace. She wore fine silks, ate delicacies, and slept on embroidered bedding, while beyond the red palace walls were rags, coarse food, and cold dew for pillows. She once stood with the Empress Dowager on the Western Tower, gazing at prosperity and splendor that masked reality, but she soon realized those people had no intention of stopping. Hai Liangyi had died in Mingli Hall, yet the Empress Dowager never considered change.
Hua Xiangyi said, “I want my aunt to stop.”
The people were the river that carried the boat; they were the foundation. Yet the Empress Dowager still relied on the Eight Great Garrisons to suppress dissent—that was defying heaven’s order. The rise and fall of an empire did not rest solely on the ruler; the world needed a sovereign heart capable of compassion for suffering.
“I am confined to the inner chambers, with limited ability. Whether it was Yuan Jue or Chengzhi, there was little I could do,” Hua Xiangyi said slowly. Then she bowed again to Qi Zhuyin. “The Grand Commander rides across Qidong and dominates the battlefield. If you can drive back the Border Sands Twelve Tribes, it will be a deed of immeasurable merit. Therefore, I want the Grand Commander to leave Dun Capital alive.”
Qi Zhuyin accepted the bow, as if only now truly recognizing who Hua Xiangyi was.
“You are a good woman,” Qi Zhuyin said after a brief pause. “I shall repay you with military merit.”