“It’s too strange.”
Early in the morning, after Chi Banyue came out of the council hall, she went straight to Xia Lanshi’s tent and lifted the curtain. Before she had even steadied herself, she threw out those words.
Xia Lanshi had finally broken his fever today.
He had originally wanted to get up and go to the council hall, but one sentence from Xiao Yuan—“Lie down.”—had directly pressed him back against the head of the bed.
When Chi Banyue entered the tent, he was half leaning against the headboard, with an empty medicine bowl sitting beside him and a grain ledger spread halfway open across his knees.
“What is strange?”
Xia Lanshi put down the grain ledger and raised his eyes to look at her.
Chi Banyue sat down beside the bed, clasping both hands over her knees, as though organizing the details she had just observed.
“His Highness came to the council hall this morning. His complexion was a little better than yesterday.”
Xia Lanshi nodded slightly.
He had noticed it too.
When Xiao Yuan came to check on him this morning, the dark shadows beneath his eyes had faded, and his footsteps were no longer as heavy as they had been over the past few days. His entire person looked as though something had filled him up again.
“Isn’t that good?” Xia Lanshi asked.
“It is good.” Chi Banyue paused, as though considering how to describe it. “But his mood doesn’t seem very good.”
Xia Lanshi’s brows moved slightly. “His mood isn’t good?”
“I can’t quite put it into words.” Chi Banyue frowned, her fingertips unconsciously tapping once against her knee.
“It isn’t anger, and it isn’t restlessness. It’s more like… he has something weighing on his heart, and he’s thinking about it very deeply. When speaking with him, he answers every sentence, but it feels as though his mind isn’t here. And also—”
She lowered her voice and leaned slightly closer.
“His Highness smells different.”
Xia Lanshi froze. “Smell?”
“His Highness normally uses the agarwood incense prepared in the palace. After arriving at the northern frontier, the army often burns pinewood for warmth, so the scent mixes with the smell of pine.”
Chi Banyue was extremely sensitive to smells. Back in the capital, when she had pretended to be the “favored concubine” beside Xiao Yuan, she had to know every detail about Xiao Yuan’s person like the back of her hand.
“But today there was a very clean scent on him. It wasn’t incense, and it wasn’t the smell of medicine.”
She tilted her head and thought for a moment, finally finding a specific comparison.
“It’s a little like the smell of the soap among Doctor Su’s supplies, but not quite the same. It’s a fragrance I’ve never smelled here before.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, understanding immediately.
Xiao Yuan had never liked strong fragrances. Even in the palace, he only used the lightest agarwood incense to scent his clothes.
The wind and snow of the northern frontier were harsh. The smell of pine smoke and charcoal fire had gradually seeped into the army’s clothing, and that cold, sharp pine scent had become the most stable smell on his body.
But today, that clean fragrance had covered the pinewood, covered the agarwood, like the traces left behind by another person.
It was another person’s scent.
He was silent for a moment, remembering when Xiao Yuan had entered his tent to check on him that morning. Although he had not said much, he had stood there a little longer than usual.
At the time, he had thought Xiao Yuan had simply wanted to make sure that his fever had gone down before leaving with peace of mind.
Now that he thought about it, Xiao Yuan had indeed seemed somewhat absent-minded, as though something was weighing on his heart that he had never voiced.
Thinking back more carefully, Xiao Yuan’s appearance this morning had also seemed somewhat different. His hair was smoother than usual, as though it had been carefully groomed.
“Did His Highness say anything else?” Xia Lanshi asked.
“I asked him. His Highness only answered, ‘Trying out new goods.’” Chi Banyue shrugged. “Very perfunctory.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, his fingertips lightly resting against the white jade peace charm around his wrist, as though contemplating something.
“His Highness showed me something this morning,” he suddenly said.
Chi Banyue raised her eyes.
“A Western mechanical pocket watch.” Xia Lanshi’s voice was very soft, as though recalling some detail. “His Highness said Doctor Su gave it to him. When he took it out, his movements were extremely careful, as though he was afraid of damaging it. Then he discussed the differences between the time systems of the two worlds with me. He spoke very seriously.”
He paused.
At the time, Xia Lanshi had also been extremely interested in that pocket watch, and had even discussed with Xiao Yuan whether it could be introduced for use in the army.
But that was a matter for later. At present, the northern frontier had not yet stabilized, and they still could not touch the bottom line of the Emperor and the Crown Prince.
He recalled his conversation with Xiao Yuan that morning—
That morning, when Xiao Yuan lifted the tent curtain and walked in, there were still unmelted snowflakes on his shoulders.
Unlike usual, he did not ask about military affairs first. Instead, he took something out from inside his robe and placed it on the table.
“Take a look at this.”
Xia Lanshi put down his brush and looked down.
It was a flat, round piece of metal, slightly smaller than a palm. Its surface was black-silver, with several smooth silver lines outlining the shape of a wolf.
He did not recognize what it was. He only felt that its workmanship was extremely fine, unlike anything Dasheng could produce.
“What is this object?”
Xiao Yuan did not explain. He merely reached out and lightly pressed something on the side.
The metal cover sprang open, revealing a round dial inside. Against the milky-white background were a circle of symbols he could not understand, along with three thin hands of different lengths.
One of the hands was currently moving slowly at an extremely steady speed.
“A Western mechanical pocket watch Doctor Su gave me,” Xiao Yuan said. “It’s a tool they use to keep time. More accurate than a clepsydra, more precise than a sundial. You can check it at any time. You don’t need to wait for the sun, and you don’t need someone to announce the time.”
Xia Lanshi picked up the pocket watch, his movements gentle.
He lowered his head and carefully watched the thin hand that was moving. He heard an extremely faint, rhythmic ticking.
Xiao Yuan continued, “Over there, they divide one day into twenty-four hours. One quarter of an hour is approximately… a little more than half a shichen here.”
He sounded somewhat uncertain, as though he was still converting the units.
“But their method of timekeeping is more precise than ours. It can be accurate to roughly… several dozen breaths by our reckoning.”
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes to look at him. “Several dozen breaths?”
“Mm.” Xiao Yuan nodded. “Their clocks can be accurate to that degree.”
He took out the duty roster from inside his robe. Beside that roster was a comparison and conversion chart of the time systems of the two worlds, written by Su Muchen.
Xia Lanshi took it and checked it.
He lowered his head and looked at the pocket watch for another moment.
The hands moved extremely slowly, but that thin hand was indeed moving, like a river that would never stop.
He thought of some things.
At first, those things were merely thoughts, like undercurrents beneath the surface of the water. But the longer he looked at that hand, the clearer those thoughts became.
“Your Highness.”
He spoke, his voice half a degree lower than before.
“This object must not be allowed to circulate outside.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes. Reflected in his red pupils was the extremely fine silver light on the surface of the pocket watch.
“If the northern frontier army can eventually use this kind of timekeeping method, the timing of night raids can be made precise down to the gaps between the enemy’s shifts. The times reported by scouts will no longer be vague. Errors in logistical deployment will be greatly reduced. If we take it further, and the military camps, relay stations, ports, and government offices all use the same time system—”
He stopped for a moment, as though allowing his words to settle.
“Your Highness, this is not a pocket watch.”
He said, “This is a blade for commanding an army.”
He returned the pocket watch and duty roster to Xiao Yuan.
Xiao Yuan did not answer immediately.
He looked at Xia Lanshi. The latter’s gaze was still fixed on the pocket watch. There was no curiosity in those pale red eyes, only a clear-headed sharpness that was calculating its value.
Xiao Yuan had known him for many years.
He had seen Xia Lanshi identify three flaws in a grain ledger at a single glance. He had seen him read an ambush in a military report that no one else had noticed.
That quiet yet sharp expression on Xia Lanshi’s face meant that he was seeing something others had not yet seen.
“If this system can be spread,” Xia Lanshi continued, “the northern frontier army’s night raids will be at least twice as precise as they are now. Scouts will no longer have to rely on vague expressions such as ‘before dawn’ or ‘in the afternoon.’ It is equivalent to sharpening the army’s eyes all over again.”
Xiao Yuan was silent for a moment before taking the pocket watch back into his palm, his fingertips covering the watch cover.
“If we want to implement it, we’ll still need to discuss it with Doctor Su,” he said.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes.
“At present, this object can only be obtained through Guichen Studio. If the door closes, we will lose the source.”
Xiao Yuan continued.
Before he could unify the time system, he first had to ensure that this object could still be obtained steadily in the future, or that Dasheng would have the ability to manufacture and repair it.
Otherwise, once the door closed and the supply was lost, the time system would have no meaning.
“Indeed.” Xia Lanshi nodded. “If Doctor Su’s side can directly grant us the manufacturing technology, that would naturally be even better.”
Although Xia Lanshi was also uncertain whether Su Muchen, who was proficient in medicine, had any research into mechanisms.
Su Muchen was skilled in medicine, but he also understood knowledge in many other fields.
“If feasible, we can first test it in the army,” Xiao Yuan said. “There’s no need to let the court know. Let the scouts and night patrolmen use it first. Record the results, then decide how to expand it.”
The corner of Xia Lanshi’s lips moved slightly, like someone whose deduction had just been verified and who was preparing to turn that deduction into action.
He nodded. His voice became softer, yet more certain.
“What Your Highness is thinking is the same as what this subject is thinking.”
“Your Highness.”
Xia Lanshi’s voice fell inside the tent, neither loud nor soft, just enough to make Xiao Yuan stop the movement he was about to make to stand.
“This subject has been recuperating recently and needs to take his medicine on time.”
His tone was gentle, carrying just the right amount of hesitation.
“If there were a more precise method of keeping time…”
He did not finish.
His long white eyelashes lowered, casting a faint shadow beneath the candlelight and half concealing those pale red eyes behind his lashes.
His figure was already slender. At this moment, he slightly turned his body, making his shoulder line look a little thinner than usual beneath the light.
His gaze did not fall on Xiao Yuan, but on the pocket watch in his hand.
Only one glance, extremely brief, as though his eyes had accidentally slipped across it and quickly withdrawn.
As though he were looking at something unrelated to himself.
The tent was quiet for a moment.
The candle flame inside the copper lamp flickered slightly.
Xiao Yuan looked at him once.
Then he put the pocket watch into his robe.
“Next time.”
Xia Lanshi finally raised his eyes. A very faint light reflected in those pale red eyes beneath the candlelight.
The corner of his lips curved slightly. The arc was extremely shallow, yet carried exactly the right amount of warmth—no more, no less—just enough to make his “Thank you, Your Highness” sound sincere.
After listening to Xia Lanshi recount everything, Chi Banyue was silent for a moment.
“So you realized the value of that thing right then?”
She knew Xia Lanshi rarely asked Xiao Yuan for things.
But even he wanted that item so badly that it aroused her interest as well.
She had to go ask Xiao Yuan for one herself.
Xia Lanshi nodded lightly, his fingertips habitually touching the white jade peace charm around his wrist, as though organizing his thoughts.
“If this kind of timekeeping method is spread, there may not be much to see in the short term. But if we look back several years later, the entire rhythm of the northern frontier army will be different. By then, even if we wanted to change it back, it would already be impossible.”
Chi Banyue was utterly speechless. She slapped a hand against her forehead.
“A perfectly good gift has been discussed by the two of you until it became this calculating and mercenary.”
“This is indeed an excellent gift,” Xia Lanshi said, his tone carrying an extremely faint, almost gentle smile. “This object is incomparably valuable. Doctor Su gave an excellent gift.”
He paused, then added,
“However, the capital still cannot know about this thing. Otherwise, before the northern frontier even gets back on its feet, it will first be treated as sorcery.”
Chi Banyue raised her brows slightly, as though weighing the importance of those words, then softly said, “Mm.”
That “mm” was very brief, but carried a kind of understanding.
“But when His Highness put the pocket watch away—”
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes, his voice becoming even softer.
“He placed it in the innermost part of his robe.”
The tent fell silent for a moment.
Chi Banyue slowly blinked, as though digesting the weight contained in those words.
For someone accustomed to keeping everything important inside a hidden pocket, putting something in the position closest to his chest was no longer merely “putting it away properly.”
It was “taking it inside.”
“By the way, His Highness also gave each of us one copy of this.”
Chi Banyue took out the stack of papers from her sleeve and handed it to Xia Lanshi.
Xia Lanshi accepted it. Looking down, he saw the line of words on the first page—
Regulations for Prince Su’s Sleep Management
—written in Su Muchen’s very distinctive handwriting.
He opened it and read through the rules one by one, unable to help smiling.
“Doctor Su’s handwriting… still has quite a personal style.”
“The handwriting isn’t the point,” Chi Banyue said. “The point is, when His Highness handed this to me this morning, he only said, ‘Handle it as you see fit.’”
Xiao Yuan had always disliked people managing him and hated being restrained.
Yet now, not only did he allow Doctor Su to establish these rules, he had even taken the initiative to hand those rules over to them, letting them keep an eye on him.
Xia Lanshi placed the stack of papers on his knees and was silent for a moment.
Sleep.
Scent.
Hair that had been carefully groomed.
Recovered spirits.
And, on top of that, a personalized Regulations for Prince Su’s Sleep Management.
These fragments gradually pieced together into a complete picture in his mind.
As far as he knew, Xiao Yuan had gone to Guichen Studio this time, and had stayed there longer than during any previous visit.
Xiao Yuan had always been extremely quick when discussing affairs and never dragged things out.
Such a long period of time could not possibly have been spent only discussing supplies.
—He had fallen asleep at Guichen Studio.
This deduction made Xia Lanshi’s heart stir slightly.
He understood Xiao Yuan’s habits better than anyone.
Even when falling asleep, Xiao Yuan maintained his vigilance. His long sword was never outside the range of his hand.
Not to mention closing his eyes in an unfamiliar place.
Yet Xiao Yuan had lowered his guard at Guichen Studio, and had slept enough for his complexion and spirit to recover.
This meant that Xiao Yuan’s trust in Su Muchen had already exceeded what Xia Lanshi had originally expected.
But whether this was entirely a good thing, he could not yet decide.
Lowering his guard also meant that a gap had appeared in his defenses.
He thought that Xiao Yuan himself had realized it as well.
“There is no need to worry about His Highness. He has always been restrained and knows how to distinguish what matters,” Xia Lanshi said.
Chi Banyue, however, let out a laugh.
“I wasn’t worried either.”
Xia Lanshi looked at her.
“My meaning is—” Chi Banyue tilted her head slightly, and there was a little more probing in her gaze. “Do you think His Highness has really fallen for Doctor Su?”
She had always felt that whenever Xiao Yuan went to Guichen Studio, it seemed almost like he was going to a secret tryst.
Thinking back carefully, whenever Xiao Yuan returned from Guichen Studio, although his expression remained emotionless, the coldness in his eyes would always fade somewhat.
It was not once or twice.
It was almost every time.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes and glanced at her.
“Doctor Su is naturally extremely special in His Highness’s heart.”
Su Muchen had not only saved Xiao Yuan’s life.
He had also saved Linzhou, Hanchuan, Qingshi Village, and Linbei City.
He was the source of supplies, the medical support, and the most crucial living piece on Xiao Yuan’s chessboard in the northern frontier.
But now, Xia Lanshi could no longer place Su Muchen solely within the category of “strategy.”
Xiao Yuan going to Guichen Studio was no longer merely for supplies.
His concern for Su Muchen had also long since crossed the line of “important business partner.”
“Doctor Su even gave His Highness a token of affection,” Chi Banyue said leisurely. “Should I remind His Highness that he shouldn’t only remember to accept gifts, but also remember to return one?”
She felt that Xiao Yuan was extremely slow in this regard. He needed someone to give him a little hint.
Hearing this, Xia Lanshi merely smiled faintly.
He felt that Su Muchen probably was not someone who understood romance either.
Giving the pocket watch was probably simply because he thought Xiao Yuan could make use of it. He probably had not thought much beyond that.
But he did not point it out.
“His Highness will have to form a marriage alliance in the future.” Xia Lanshi’s voice lowered.
Chi Banyue fell silent.
Of course, she understood this principle.
“So what?” Chi Banyue raised her eyes, her tone carrying a kind of certainty. “In the past, His Highness might have obediently accepted the marriage alliance. But now—well, that may not necessarily be the case.”
Xia Lanshi looked at her.
Seeing that he seemed not to understand, Chi Banyue smiled.
“You don’t understand. Once some people fall in love, they won’t let go.”
She believed Xiao Yuan was exactly this kind of person.
As long as it was something he wanted, he would become persistent and insist on obtaining it.
She spoke casually, yet her words were like a stone falling onto the surface of water, stirring up ripples one after another.
Xia Lanshi became thoughtful at the words “won’t let go.”
There were some things that, even when the other party denied them, rejected them, and pushed everything back into the fog, he had never truly let go.
That feeling was just like how butterflies would be attracted to flowers, and moths would throw themselves toward firelight.
It had nothing to do with reason.
It was only instinct.
Seeing him fall into thought, Chi Banyue covered her mouth and laughed.
After Xia Lanshi received that letter confirming that Xiao had no mark on his back, he had not shown much disappointment.
Instead, recently, he seemed to touch the white jade peace charm on his wrist less often, as though he already had a new source of emotional support.
“Won’t you give that letter to Young Master Xiao?” Chi Banyue asked.
She knew that sometimes, late at night, Xia Lanshi would pick up his brush and write letters.
Those were for Xiao.
“Not in a hurry,” Xia Lanshi said.
Linbei City had yet to stabilize, and he was still ill. It truly was not appropriate for him to be distracted by these personal matters.
Chi Banyue thought to herself:
You’re not in a hurry, but I’m practically dying of impatience.
But she did not say it aloud.
She turned the conversation back to official business and recounted, one by one, the matters discussed in the council hall today regarding the reconstruction of the government office.
Xia Lanshi nodded.
“Reconstructing the government office is imperative. This is His Highness’s public face. His prestige must be established first.”
Linbei City had once been the most important military city in Dasheng’s northern frontier.
It was thirty li north of Hanchuan, controlled the three main routes through the northern frontier, and was an important gateway from the north into Dasheng.
Twenty years ago, the Northern Di invaded south. The defending commander died in battle, while reinforcements were delayed again and again.
The city was breached.
A great fire burned for seven days and seven nights, and nearly all the residents inside the city were killed or wounded. Even now, traces of charred black could still be seen on the city walls.
The imperial court believed the cost of repairing the city was too high, so it abandoned the city.
From then on, this place became the northern frontier’s ghost city in the mouths of the people.
The first time Xiao Yuan came here was when he was sixteen.
He had been ordered to lead troops to the northern frontier to quell unrest and passed through this city along the way.
At that time, this place was already a dead city, with almost no one inside.
But Xiao Yuan saw the half-collapsed city walls, the water source, and the natural terrain where the mountains and plains met.
At the time, he said one sentence:
“If this city is rebuilt, it can support an army of one hundred thousand.”
He had no authority to rebuild it, so he used the most low-key methods possible, secretly maintaining the city’s operation through merchant caravans and trusted subordinates.
He pushed Pei Yi into the position of defending commander, allowing the city to slowly regain signs of life, allowing Linbei City to transform from a ghost city back into a city where people could establish themselves firmly.
This time, Xiao Yuan had not come merely to quell the turmoil in the northern frontier.
And the government office was Xiao Yuan’s most important stronghold.
“His Highness said that from now on, it won’t be called the government office,” Chi Banyue said. “It will be called the Northern Frontier Administrative Office.”
Xia Lanshi nodded slightly.
“Very good. If it were established in Prince Su’s name, it would instead arouse the court’s suspicions.”
The Emperor’s and Crown Prince’s people were watching Xiao Yuan’s every move.
They had to act beneath these people’s eyes, so everything had to appear reasonable, with no flaws for anyone to pick out.
After Chi Banyue finished explaining all of today’s affairs in the council hall, she stood up, straightened her robes, lifted the tent curtain, and left.
Wind poured in from outside the tent, carrying the dry, cold air unique to the northern frontier morning and blowing the pages of the papers on Xia Lanshi’s desk.
He reached out and pressed them down.
Lowering his head, he looked toward the book Regulations for Prince Su’s Sleep Management.
His fingertip lightly traced across the paper as he became lost in thought.
At first, the appearance of Guichen Studio and Su Muchen had merely been a beneficial tool capable of helping Xiao Yuan step onto the path toward becoming emperor.
Xia Lanshi admitted that Su Muchen’s influence on this place far exceeded what he could have imagined.
That kind of change was spreading over from the direction of Guichen Studio, little by little.
If it went any deeper, Su Muchen might become Xiao Yuan’s fatal weakness.
◆◇◆◇◆
Yunjing City.
The underground parking lot of Shaohua Center.
At three in the morning, a patrolling security guard discovered two men in a corner on B3.
They were sitting against the wall, their clothes neat and orderly, with no injuries on their bodies.
Both men had their eyes open, yet there was no focus in them and no response.
The security guard immediately called an ambulance.
After they were taken to the hospital for examination, it was discovered that all their vital signs were normal, their neurological reflexes were normal, there were no signs of poisoning, no external injuries, and no drug residue.
They could not speak.
They could not respond to any stimulus.
They were like two empty shells whose souls had been pulled out.
When the report was delivered to Sheng Chengxiu’s desk, he was looking at another document.
Jinghe Medical Center—the most prestigious private hospital under the Sheng family—was located in the eastern suburbs of Yunjing City.
It occupied a vast area, had advanced equipment, and publicly claimed to “provide the highest-standard medical services.”
In reality, it was also a place where the Sheng family handled certain matters that were “inconvenient to make public.”
Sheng Chengxiu finished reading the two medical reports without saying a word.
He closed the files and placed them to the side.
Then he picked up another document—the progress report on the application for the Guichen Cultural Preservation Association.
He remembered that he had told someone to “handle” this matter.
Under normal procedures, an application for a private civil association like this would require at least several months of review.
During that period, as long as someone “slightly delayed” things at a key stage, the process could be extended indefinitely.
But the report stated:
The application has passed the preliminary review and is now entering the second review stage. Approval is expected to be completed within two weeks.
The speed was abnormally fast.
Sheng Chengxiu finished reading the page.
His fingertip stopped at the edge of the paper, and he did not turn the page.
After remaining silent for a while, he summoned his assistant.
“What movement has there been at Guichen Studio recently?”
The assistant answered in a low voice, “Su Muchen is operating normally. The people coming and going are the same as usual. There are no obvious changes.”
“What about the surveillance?”
“We checked all the nearby footage. We didn’t find anything unusual.”
“Nothing unusual?”
Sheng Chengxiu slammed the report in his hand onto the desk and shouted angrily, “You call this nothing unusual?”
The assistant lowered his head and did not dare to speak.
Sheng Chengxiu was not someone who often lost his temper, because everything always proceeded according to his expectations.
Until Su Muchen appeared.
He had sent people to investigate the interior of Guichen Studio.
The result was that those two specially trained men had been thrown away like trash in the underground parking lot of Shaohua Center.
By the time the people he had sent were returned, they were no longer “people.”
They were merely breathing containers.
This was undoubtedly a silent provocation toward him.
It was not a warning.
It was a declaration.
It was telling him—
This is what happens when you lay hands on Guichen Studio.
Sheng Chengxiu leaned back against his chair and looked out the window.
The upper floors of Shaohua Center had an excellent view. The skyline of Yunjing City spread out beyond the glass curtain wall like a vast web stretched open by time and buildings.
His gaze passed through those buildings and streets and landed in some invisible direction.
Guichen Studio.
Su Muchen.
And that shop assistant named Xiao.
The association’s application had someone secretly accelerating it.
He had mobilized the Sheng family’s network of connections to obstruct it, yet he had been pushed back by an invisible line.
That line was hidden deeply and held firmly, like a wall that had been built up, keeping him outside.
He had underestimated his opponent too much.
The other party was far more troublesome than he had imagined.
And behind Su Muchen and Xiao, there was something else that had yet to surface.
Otherwise, with only the strength of those two, it would have been impossible for them to contend with the Sheng family conglomerate.
“Investigate.”
Sheng Chengxiu’s voice was very calm, calm like the surface of the sea in the final moment before a storm.
“I want to know exactly who is helping Su Muchen. And that Xiao—give me a thorough investigation.”
A shop assistant whose true origins could not be uncovered might be the person he should deal with first.
Outside the window, the sky was gradually darkening.
The lights of Yunjing City lit up one by one.
And on the border of another city, the Silver Wolf Banner unfurled in the wind.
Some shadows were drawing near.
Some lights were being lit.