Flush.
Shen Zechuan, usually calm and composed, felt the stirrings of that word ripple through him. In his sleeve lay Xiao Chiye’s handkerchief, like a hidden spark, as if some mischievous spirit obeyed Xiao Chiye’s command and set fire to his earlobe. He knew that on snow-white skin, this red stood out vividly. Even if he tried to protest, it would carry no weight.
It felt as if Xiao Chiye had trapped him in a mirrored cage—everywhere he looked, reflections forced him to reveal himself, to drop his defenses entirely.
Shen Zechuan moistened his lips to quell the dryness. He curled his fingers inward, denying Xiao Chiye any further glimpses, ignoring the subtle provocation.
“Time for bed,” Shen Zechuan said. “Go call someone.”
Xiao Chiye took his “ignore me” as deliberate teasing, scratching an itch he was eager to exploit. Yet victory demanded patience; haste would lead him straight into a trap. He let it go this time. “The masters have arrangements. No need to worry. If you want to sleep, the east wing has been cleared.”
Shen Zechuan rose briskly.
Ji Gang and Zuo Qianqiu were dead drunk, not waking even the next day. Shen Zechuan carried Ji Gang onto the carriage and returned.
Watching the carriage depart, Xiao Chiye told Chen Yang, “For the next two days, keep a close eye on the Eight Great Houses. See who moves.”
Chen Yang nodded.
Shen Zechuan closed his eyes, letting the carriage sway lull him. Midway, they switched to an inconspicuous cart before arriving at Zhao Zui Temple.
Qiao Tianya carried Ji Gang, following Shen Zechuan into the courtyard. Ge Qingqing had been waiting and rushed forward to greet them.
“Nothing serious,” Shen Zechuan reassured. “Master is merely drunk.”
Grand Tutor Qi stood under the eaves. “Qingqing, help Ji Gang inside and let him sleep.”
Ge Qingqing took Ji Gang and carried him indoors.
Qiao Tianya stepped forward and knelt in the snow. “Grand Tutor, how have you been?”
“Seeing you is enough to make everything well,” Grand Tutor Qi said, lifting his hand. “You now go by Qiao Tianya, so your old indenture is void. Yet you stayed for that bit of loyalty—I thank you.”
“The past was trivial for you, Grand Tutor, but a life-saving debt to me,” Qiao Tianya said, with none of his usual smile. “During the Yongyi era, Emperor Guangcheng cracked down on corrupt officials. My father and brothers were framed. Without your clear judgment and timely help, twenty Qiao family lives would have been wasted at the Meridian Gate.”
“You father and brothers were loyal officials, wrongly accused. Even without me, you would have been safe,” Grand Tutor Qi said.
Qiao Tianya paused long, then said, “The Qiao family owes you greatly for such kindness.”
During the Yongyi era, Qiao Tianya’s father still served in the Ministry of War. Emperor Guangcheng’s crackdown led to accusations against Qiao’s holdings. When the investigation seemed hopeless, Qi Huilian intervened, rescuing Qiao’s father and some Ministry colleagues. For this, Qi Huilian had married his daughter to Qiao’s eldest son. But that was not the end: years later, the Crown Prince was wronged. Qi Huilian was demoted from Grand Tutor, and when accompanying the prince into Zhao Zui Temple, Qiao’s father turned to the Empress Dowager.
The Crown Prince fell. Empress Dowager Hua, using Pan Rugui, conducted a thorough purge of the Crown Prince’s remnants. Qiao’s father was imprisoned again, this time with no Qi Huilian to vouch. He and his eldest son were executed; the remaining family exiled to Suotian Pass. Qi Huilian’s daughter died en route—Qiao Tianya’s eldest sister-in-law.
“Let bygones be bygones,” Grand Tutor Qi tugged at his white hair. “You’ve left the lowly status behind, but now you must understand: once you follow Lanzhou, your life and death are bound, no longer your own.”
Qiao Tianya’s hair blew in the wind. His grin was unrestrained. “Grand Tutor, I have no home. Having received your and my late sister-in-law’s grace, I have nothing to return. My life is yours. Qiao Songyue died following my sister-in-law in Cang County. Today, Qiao Tianya is a blade. A blade knows neither life nor freedom. If the path is treacherous, then draw this blade and use it as you wish.”
Grand Tutor Qi stepped forward slowly, leaning on a column, and looked at Shen Zechuan. “Lanzhou, this year is ending, and your coming-of-age ceremony has yet to be performed by your master.”
Shen Zechuan’s sleeve fluttered, a subtle sensation passing over him.
“You are capable now,” Grand Tutor Qi said. “But the road ahead is long: avenging old grudges, taking the Eight Gates, revisiting old cases, pacifying Zhongbo—each task is difficult. Ji Gang wishes to gift you a blade; I shall also give you one. Take it.”
Snow drifted through the courtyard. Shen Zechuan lowered his head, letting Grand Tutor Qi’s cold hand rest atop his hair.
At dinner, Ji Gang awoke. After some porridge, he summoned Shen Zechuan inside.
“The blade I spoke of before—you remember, right? It arrived last night. I’ve been thinking of it.” Ji Gang moved aside a cabinet to reveal a sword stand.
Shen Zechuan’s eyes fell upon it, captivated.
“Ji Lei could not wield this, but it suits you perfectly,” Ji Gang said, wiping the blade with a clean cloth. “I reforged the scabbard; its old name no longer applies. You must name it yourself.”
Shen Zechuan continued to marvel at its sheen.
Nearly three feet seven inches of straight steel demanded a fast draw. Two-finger width allowed smooth thrusts. The handle, newly crafted from sandalwood, was simple, capped with gold, and inlaid with a white pearl.
A masterfully forged blade, even after long storage, it exuded pride and precision, like autumn waters—untarnished yet fiercely resolute.
“My master realized something recently,” Ji Gang said, setting down the cloth. “After seeing Xiao Er last night, I understood: I trained you too rigidly. You were restricted. With this blade, even Xiao Er’s ferocity cannot match your draw. The light sandalwood handle gives you agility. In all martial arts, speed conquers all. This was my father’s favorite. The Ji family favors power, but my father’s method fits you—you can carve your own path.”
Shen Zechuan grasped the handle and lifted the blade.
“Name it,” Ji Gang stepped back.
Shen Zechuan, entranced, asked, “Master gives me such a blade?”
Ji Gang laughed. “I practice fists, not blades. Not giving it would be wasteful.”
After a pause, Shen Zechuan said, “Call it ‘Snow on the Mountain Peak’.”
That night, Grand Tutor Qi knelt across, writing the surnames of the Eight Great Houses.
“The Grand Officials’ Banquet approaches. The Four Generals gather again, and local officials return. The new emperor ascends; next year brings the Metropolitan Censors. This is crucial—stability in Xianyang depends on it. The banquet and year-end break are perfect to reassess the court. If the Empress Dowager wishes a comeback, she will not miss this chance.”
“After Hua Siqian’s death, the Empress Dowager was constrained in the palace. Her sons were exiled. Any action now requires outside aid,” Shen Zechuan frowned. “But given Xi Guan’an’s prior failure, who would collude with her?”
“Cowards accomplish nothing. Collusion is driven by interest. If the Empress Dowager still has leverage, new vessels are found easily,” Grand Tutor Qi said, sketching beneath the Hua family. “Besides, her sons are useless. Don’t forget—she’s trained a daughter herself.”
“Miss Hua San?” Shen Zechuan said. “You mean Hua Xiangyi.”
“Given Emperor Xiande’s favor, Hua San should have become a princess,” Grand Tutor Qi said. “She didn’t—not because Xiande withheld, but the Empress Dowager forbade it.”
Shen Zechuan sipped tea, thought a moment, then said, “I understand.”
“Explain why.”
“If Hua Xiangyi became a princess, her marriage would be state business, decided by the emperor and ministers. But as Miss Hua San, only the Empress Dowager decides. So… Grand Tutor, the Empress Dowager intends to marry her off?”
“Mountains won’t come to me, I go to the mountain,” Grand Tutor Qi dipped his brush. “The Empress Dowager sacrificed Xi Guan’an, lost military control, but if Hua Xiangyi marries Xiao Chiye, the problem solves itself.”
Shen Zechuan lightly tapped the cup, lowering his gaze. “Harder than reaching heaven. Xiao Er will not hand over power willingly.”
“Hearing Hua Xiangyi is stunningly beautiful, if Xiao Er notices, who knows?” Grand Tutor Qi hinted.
Shen Zechuan stayed silent.
“Yet difficult indeed,” Grand Tutor Qi said. “Even if Xiao Er takes interest, Xiao Ming will not sit idly. He and the Hua family are enemies; no reason to reconcile while in the upper hand.”
Shen Zechuan thought. “Losing military power, controlling the core is an option. Yet few rising talents exist; the cabinet remains under Hai Liangyi. The Empress Dowager cannot force Hua Xiangyi into concubinage. In Qu City, there is no suitable match.”
“Not in Qu City? Look beyond,” Grand Tutor Qi wrote the characters for Qidong. “North is blocked, but Qidong still offers opportunity.”
“Both General Qi and Lu Guangbai are unmarried,” Shen Zechuan said. “Then only Lu Guangbai. But the Lu and Xiao families are longtime allies—not easily disrupted.”
“Why not the Qi family?” Grand Tutor Qi frowned. “They have more than Qi Zhuyin.”
“Impossible…” Shen Zechuan’s eyes widened.
A few days later, Xiao Chiye escorted Li Jianheng out of the city to greet Qidong’s two generals. Lu Guangbai returned with him, removing his helmet mid-ride. “I heard a piece of news on the road. Do you know?”
Xiao Chiye rode forward. “What?”
Before Lu Guangbai could speak, Qi Zhuyin, riding behind, struck him sharply on the back.
“General!” Lu Guangbai shouted in pain.
Qi Zhuyin rarely showed displeasure, but now she scowled, drawing her sword slightly, and asked Xiao Chiye, “Since when has this rumor spread in Qu City?”
Xiao Chiye was more puzzled.
Gritting her teeth, Qi Zhuyin said, “Someone wants to make my little mother!”
Xiao Chiye blinked. “General Qi, a new concubine?”
“Concubine,” Qi Zhuyin said with self-mockery. “The rumor is he intends to marry a second wife! Hua San would be my little mother—does she even have seniority?”