Yuan Liu had died suddenly in prison. Chen Yang prepared his body, and following Xiao Chiye’s instructions, arranged a new residence in Dancheng for Yuan Liu’s wife and children, hiring a good teacher for his son.
Xiao Chiye’s illness lasted until the snow melted in the capital. By the time he could leave for court, Xi Hongxuan had already been promoted to Minister of Personnel, Department of Examination.
Shen Zechuan returned the Imperial Guard badge to Xiao Chiye. Taking the moment, Xiao Chiye gave him a thorough once-over with his eyes.
“Thanks,” Xiao Chiye said, drawing out the badge. “Commander of the garrison.”
“You’re too kind,” Shen Zechuan said, curling his fingers slightly, reluctant to let go.
Xiao Chiye waved the badge. “Treasure it much?”
Shen Zechuan smiled. “I have. I’ve gotten used to handling it these past days.”
Seeing the others step back into the distance, Xiao Chiye said, “Just touching my badge is too timid.”
Shen Zechuan clasped his hands behind his back. “After recovering from a serious illness, the Second Master still needs to find a purpose.”
“I’ve been keeping a clear mind for over half a month,” Xiao Chiye said, drowsy in the sunlight, shifting his feet. “The fickle lover never even came to see me. Now that I’m out, I need to find a way to heal my heart.”
Shen Zechuan let the wind blow over him. “A bad fellow, always chasing new loves and counting old ones—forget him early. Wasting your precious years on him is not worth it.”
“What bad fellow?” Xiao Chiye asked.
“The Second Master,” Shen Zechuan replied.
Xiao Chiye wanted to pinch the back of his neck but it wasn’t convenient right there. “Well said, very clever. The Second Master should applaud you.”
“You’re too polite,” Shen Zechuan said lazily, gazing along the stone slabs, distracted. “The sentiment is enough.”
“So you even went to check which old flames exist,” Xiao Chiye said. “You care, huh?”
“I didn’t investigate,” Shen Zechuan said. “Just sitting at Xiang Yun Lane, having a cup of wine, and all sorts of gossip come out. The Second Master is a regular, a seasoned hand in matters of wind and moon.”
“Impressed?” Xiao Chiye asked.
“Impressed,” Shen Zechuan said, looking at him, voice slowing. “But hearing about someone isn’t the same as experiencing them. The legend and the person I met aren’t quite the same.”
“Few opportunities,” Xiao Chiye said, hanging the badge from his finger. “Try a few more times, you’ll know better. ‘Savor slowly’ we’ve tried before—the flavor isn’t bad, right?”
Shen Zechuan pressed his lips together under Xiao Chiye’s gaze.
Xiao Chiye laughed. “Seems you remember. So you remember what you promised me too, right?”
“Send a message to Xiang Yun for you,” Shen Zechuan said. “Be the matchmaker, earn a cup of wedding wine—I remember, of course.”
“I knew I could count on you,” Xiao Chiye said. “If this works out, how should I thank you?”
“Consider it a gift contribution,” Shen Zechuan said lazily, eyes wandering outward along the paving stones.
At that moment, Han Cheng emerged from the hall, beckoning to them, with a little eunuch running ahead.
“Two masters, please! The emperor is waiting!”
Li Jianheng sat on the dragon throne, listening to officials discuss affairs. Spring was approaching, and matters like planting mulberries and hemp were important. Meanwhile, Left Censor Cen Yu reported on local communities in the capital, noting that officials had been encroaching on drainage channels. Now that the snow was melting, blocked drains could flood the streets during the rainy season.
The matter seemed minor, almost negligible compared to surrounding discussions. Li Jianheng barely paid attention before being distracted by the loud voice of the provincial administrator from Zhongbo. Cen Yu tried several times to speak but was interrupted.
After court, Cen Yu left the palace and was suddenly called from behind. Turning, he saw Shen Zechuan.
Shen Zechuan bowed. “Pardon the interruption, Censor. I have a question.”
Cen Yu said, “Please, Commander.”
Shen Zechuan asked, “Earlier in court, I heard the censor report on blocked drains. Was he referring to the sudden rise in water on East Dragon Street?”
Cen Yu motioned for him to walk alongside. “Yes. The drain issue on East Dragon Street has existed since the Xian De era. Every spring the low-lying areas would flood, but no one ever paid attention—no deaths, no incidents.”
Shen Zechuan smiled wryly. “If I may be honest, sir, I live there.”
Cen Yu was surprised. “Has it already flooded these past few days?”
“My residence is on slightly higher ground. Neighboring houses, having encroached on the drains and expanded their courtyards, have pushed their eaves against mine. Sewage can’t flow. Last night it overflowed into my courtyard. This morning, before court, I went to check surrounding homes—low areas are submerged.”
Cen Yu frowned. “If a plague breaks out, it’ll be disastrous. Not just the flooding—houses are built so closely, no brick walls in between, all wood. A fire would be catastrophic.”
Shen Zechuan thought for a moment, then reassured, “Sir, don’t worry. I’ll discuss with the commanding officer and see if we can report to the emperor to send workers to clear the drains early.”
“Good. I’ll also speak with the senior officials.” Cen Yu started to leave but turned back to Shen Zechuan with a smile. “You are thoughtful, Commander. Resolving this quickly will be a meritorious deed.”
Shen Zechuan bowed.
In the courtyard, the red plum blossoms had withered. When Shen Zechuan arrived, Xiao Chiye was in the study, examining the remaining branches.
“Melting snow these days makes everything damp,” Xiao Chiye said, brushing the plum branches. “Your residence must be uninhabitable.”
Shen Zechuan, indeed worried, tugged at his collar and changed his shoes. “The courtyard is flooded.”
“Five years ago when I was here, Chao Hui mentioned the drains,” Xiao Chiye said, turning back. “Yet no one has solved it in all this time.”
“Anyway, those who get soaked are lowly scum—troublesome to deal with,” Shen Zechuan sneered. “Who wants to bother?”
“Aren’t you going to?” Xiao Chiye asked, walking over. “This year is a crucial year for assessments. If something happens, all officials would be scrambling to act.”
“Maybe not,” Shen Zechuan said, attempting to step onto the raised platform, blocked by Xiao Chiye. He looked up. “Hmm?”
Xiao Chiye bent down, pressing on Shen Zechuan’s boots. “Such stingy Imperial Guards, unwilling to even give a pair of deer-skin boots?”
Half of Shen Zechuan’s socks were wet. Xiao Chiye had someone light a brazier, warming the room. Shen Zechuan’s pale face was from the cold.
“Deer-skin boots can’t stand water,” Shen Zechuan said, moving his feet away. He lowered his gaze at Xiao Chiye. “East Dragon Street’s lowlands are full of poor dwellings, now soaked in filth.”
Xiao Chiye squatted, looking up. “Those places take all kinds of customers, coins are few and far between. Tax revenue is barely collected, year after year in arrears. The Ministry of Revenue leaves them be deliberately.”
“Even residential areas are flooded,” Shen Zechuan added.
“They’re used to waiting. After spring, it’s fine,” Xiao Chiye said, rising. “Many are willing to act, but few take on tasks without merit. Court dismissed, no meal yet—let’s eat.”
A maid brought wooden clogs for Shen Zechuan. His feet were smaller than Xiao Chiye’s. Xiao Chiye noticed his slender, fair ankles, recalling the medicine he had taken for him in the past.
“You haven’t gained weight since the new year,” Xiao Chiye said, opening the door and leading him outside.
“I’ve only been sleeping two hours a day,” Shen Zechuan tapped the clogs lightly. “I thought the southern garrison was a light-duty post, but there’s more to it than I imagined.”
“If Xi Hongxuan can’t protect you,” Xiao Chiye said, glancing sideways, “we’ll change to Second Master’s banner soon enough.”
“Then I might not even get two hours of sleep,” Shen Zechuan said, following. “Most remaining Imperial Guards rely on family legacy and imperial favor—they look down on garrison duty.”
The courtyard was wet with melting snow. Xiao Chiye stepped over puddles, turning to look at Shen Zechuan.
Shen Zechuan, in clogs, had robes nearly touching the water. The evening sky was dim; the pale moon hung far above, illuminating the surroundings. His reflection in the puddle was delicate and clear. He spoke, eyes fixed on the path, unaware Xiao Chiye had stopped. Suddenly, he leapt toward Xiao Chiye like a child.
Without hesitation, Xiao Chiye bent down, lifting him onto his shoulders. The clogs slipped off. Xiao Chiye held them in one hand, keeping an arm around Shen Zechuan, carrying him back to the room for wine.
Chen Yang stepped back, signaling the guards to clear the courtyard silently. Ding Tao on the roof dared not make a sound, peeking only with her eyes. Qiao Tianya and Gu Jin squatted on the eaves, both taking a sip of wine in unison.
“You looked unwell this morning,” Xiao Chiye said. “So feverish, are you sick?”
Shen Zechuan rested on his shoulder, gazing at the moon on the ground. “…Perhaps.”
“Great ambitions are not achieved in a day,” Xiao Chiye said, climbing the steps and kicking open the door. “Life is precious.”
“When you hate me, that’s not the case,” Shen Zechuan said softly as he landed. “A minor illness—sleep fixes it.”
Xiao Chiye removed his shoes and outer robe without looking at him. Maids filed in, arranging dishes on small tables.
Shen Zechuan washed his hands and reached to adjust his collar. Xiao Chiye, from the side, gently helped him, fingers brushing aside a red rash.
“Too damp lately,” Shen Zechuan said, warding him off. “Neighbors crowding for space block the sunlight.”
Xiao Chiye, seemingly indifferent, murmured, “Mm,” and let it pass.
They sat to eat. Xiao Chiye said, “Your residence is no longer appropriate—why not move?”
“It’s near the Temple of Punishment, convenient for my master, and on East Dragon Street—easy to check Xi Hongxuan’s movements,” Shen Zechuan said.
Xiao Chiye watched him eat. “Master Ji cannot always serve as a clerk at the temple. Move somewhere more convenient for work.”
“I’ll see if a suitable place is available,” Shen Zechuan said.
He technically had the residence of Grand Tutor Qi, but it was uninhabitable now—too conspicuous. Moving was easy; avoiding Xi Hongxuan’s attention was difficult.
After dinner, night had fallen. Shen Zechuan prepared to leave. Xiao Chiye opened the window, whistling to the roof.
Three guards and Meng peeked in.
Xiao Chiye leaned on the window sill, watching Shen Zechuan take his outer robe. “Close the door. Tonight, Commander is not leaving.”
Shen Zechuan glanced back.
Xiao Chiye did not smile. His daylight recklessness seemed to have been blown away by the night air; his eyes held shadowed forests and thick fog, appearing hazy and deep in the moonlight.
He might truly be a master of wind and moon, Shen Zechuan thought.
With this look alone, it was enough.