At eleven o’clock at night, in the old district of Yunjing City.
The charcoal fire in the council hall burned brightly, yet it could not dispel the chill of the Northern Frontier.
The windows were pasted over with thick paper, but the sound of the wind passing through the cracks could still be heard.
Spring was still far away in the Northern Frontier. The wind and snow had temporarily ceased, but the cold seemed to seep up from beneath the ground, having nothing to do with whether it was snowing or not.
Xiao Yuan sat in the seat of honor, several newly delivered documents spread out before him.
Xia Lantime sat on his left, a thick cloak draped over his shoulders. His complexion was still pale, but his light-red eyes appeared clear in the firelight.
This was the first time he had formally returned to the council hall since recovering from his illness.
Chi Banyue sat diagonally behind him. Her posture was relaxed, but her gaze never left Xia Lantime.
Every so often, her eyes would sweep over the side of his face, as though confirming that he could really hold up.
Pei Yi sat on Xiao Yuan’s other side. He had changed into a new suit of armor. The injury on his left arm was almost healed, though it still felt somewhat tight whenever he raised his hand.
The chief clerk and grain officer sat on either side, each with stacks of registers and grain ledgers spread out before them.
Xiao Yuan exchanged no pleasantries. His gaze first fell on the grain officer.
“How much grain remains in the storehouses?”
The grain officer rose. His voice was steadier than it had been a few days ago.
“Your Highness, the relief grain from Hanchuan entered the warehouse yesterday. At the current minimum ration, the city can last approximately twenty-one days. The relief grain from Linzhou is still on the way.”
Xiao Yuan did not respond immediately.
He lowered his head and looked at the grain ledger on the table.
Twenty-one days—ten days more than last time, but the number still could not carry them through a full month.
“What about the imperial court?”
The grain officer lowered his head.
“The Ministry of Revenue replied that the national treasury is strained and cannot allocate any funds for the time being.”
Xiao Yuan was not surprised.
The Ministry of Revenue was controlled by the Crown Prince’s people. He had never counted on that channel from the beginning.
He raised his hand and tapped the tabletop once.
It was not a heavy sound, yet the entire council hall fell silent.
“Within this month, thoroughly verify the grain inventories of all military garrisons in the Northern Frontier. Transfer whatever can be transferred. Record whatever cannot.” He paused. “If anyone shirks their duty, issue an official document urging them to act in the name of the Provincial Governor. If they still refuse, report it to the capital.”
The grain officer lowered his head and recorded the order.
No one in the hall spoke, but everyone understood the meaning behind the words “report it to the capital.”
It was not that they truly expected the capital to deal with the matter. Rather, it was a procedural record that had been formally filed.
If someone later accused Xiao Yuan of overstepping his authority, this document would serve as evidence.
Pei Yi rose and walked to the map.
The outline of Linbei City was covered in ink lines of different colors, like a net that was currently being repaired.
The locations of the gaps in the city walls, the progress of the watchtower repairs, and the reconstruction of the Northern Frontier Administration Office were all clearly marked in different colors.
“The gaps in the city walls have all been filled. They are only temporary reinforcements. If we want to withstand the main forces of the Beidi, we still need to rebuild them properly.”
Pei Yi’s voice was somewhat louder than before, as though the man himself were recovering along with the city.
“Two of the three watchtowers are complete. The third is expected to be finished within seven days. The front courtyard and council hall of the Northern Frontier Administration Office are already usable. The rear courtyard still requires repairs and should be fully completed in about ten days.”
He put down his brush.
“If everything goes smoothly, the city should be able to restore its basic defenses within a month.”
Xiao Yuan nodded. His gaze moved away from the map and fell on Pei Yi.
“The ruins of the ancient shrine in the southeastern corner of Linbei City—I intend to rebuild them as the Northern Frontier Martyrs’ Shrine.”
When these words fell into the hall, there was a moment of silence.
Pei Yi’s brush stopped above the paper.
He did not raise his head, but the fingers gripping the brush slowly tightened.
Xiao Yuan continued.
“Most of those who died in the Northern Watch, Hanchuan, and the various battles along the border over the years have no place to return to. I intend to build a shrine for them. Let the people of the Northern Frontier have a place to pay their respects, and let those who died in battle have a place where they can be remembered.”
Pei Yi remained silent for a long time.
No one in the council hall urged him.
Only the occasional crackle of the charcoal fire broke the silence, as though speaking on someone’s behalf.
At last, Pei Yi raised his head. His voice was lower than usual.
“This subordinate thanks Your Highness on behalf of the brothers buried beneath the snow of the Northern Frontier.”
He said nothing more.
Xiao Yuan did not expose his emotions. He merely shifted his gaze back to the city map.
“You will supervise the construction of the shrine.”
“This subordinate accepts the order.”
Pei Yi gathered his thoughts and recorded the matter of the Martyrs’ Shrine along the edge of the blueprint.
When the tip of his brush touched the paper, it pressed down somewhat harder than usual.
Chi Banyue opened her notebook.
The notebook had already been flipped through so many times that it had become quite worn. Its corners were curled, and there were handwritten notes scattered across the pages.
“The epidemic has stabilized. The number of new cases has not increased for five consecutive days. There are still more than a hundred people in the quarantine area, most of whom have passed the acute stage. The medicinal supplies can last approximately another two weeks.”
She closed the notebook and paused.
“If there is no large-scale outbreak, we should be able to keep it under control.”
Xiao Yuan did not reply. He merely nodded.
The chief clerk then rose and pushed a register toward Xiao Yuan.
“The number of critically injured has fallen to around two hundred. Most have been transferred to the recovery camp. Those with minor injuries can gradually return to their units.”
Xiao Yuan flipped through the register without saying much before closing it.
The council hall fell silent for a moment.
Xia Lantime sat there, watching the documents and registers pass back and forth across the table.
He reached out and pulled the stack of documents that had been piling up for several days toward himself.
He did not immediately begin reading. Instead, he first sorted them by category—grain affairs, military affairs, household registration, and maps.
Only then did he pick up his brush.
Chi Banyue looked at him from across half the table, then glanced at the thickness of the stack of documents.
She was silent for a moment before speaking.
“Chief Secretary Xia, you’ve only been fever-free for three days. Put your hand down first.”
The tip of Xia Lantime’s brush stopped.
He said gently, “Miss Banyue, I’m only organizing them.”
He had actually been planning to catch up on all the work he had fallen behind on in one go.
“Organizing them still counts as official business,” Chi Banyue said.
Xia Lantime finally raised his eyes to look at her.
Chi Banyue smiled slightly. Her smile was gentle and beautiful, but her eyes were not.
The two stared at each other for a moment.
Xia Lantime sighed softly, glanced at the stack of documents on the table, then gently set the brush down beside the inkstone.
He did not argue.
But Chi Banyue noticed that when he put down the brush, his fingertips lingered on the shaft for an extra moment, as though he were still calculating how much he could finish today.
Pei Yi continued writing something along the edge of the map, while the grain officer lowered his head and calculated the grain accounts.
Everything was proceeding as expected.
Although Linbei City had yet to stabilize, it was slowly moving toward the different goals each person held in their hearts.
Just before the meeting ended and everyone was about to disperse, a personal guard hurried into the council hall.
The soles of his boots made short, crisp sounds against the bluestone floor. He held an unopened confidential report in his hand and placed it before Xiao Yuan.
Xiao Yuan opened it.
After reading only a few lines, his gaze darkened slightly.
He handed the confidential report to Xia Lantime.
Xia Lantime took it and read for a moment, his expression unchanged.
But Chi Banyue noticed that when he lowered the paper, his fingertips paused against its edge for an instant.
“Jiang Zechen is already on the road.”
He paused, then added, “And he will arrive within seven days at the latest.”
The confidential report had a time delay. Although the report stated that Jiang Zechen had only just departed, he had actually been on the road for some time already.
Chi Banyue tilted her head slightly.
“Under what title?”
“Relief affairs,” Xia Lantime said. “Recommended by the Crown Prince and approved by the Emperor.”
Xia Lantime set down the confidential report and quickly sorted through its contents.
“He is coming here as the Northern Frontier Relief Affairs Inspector.” He paused slightly and raised his eyes. “In name, he is here for relief affairs. In reality, he is here to supervise the military.”
Xiao Yuan said nothing.
The brush in Pei Yi’s hand stopped as well.
No one in the council hall spoke.
Chi Banyue narrowed her eyes slightly.
“So he’s here to cause trouble.”
“He’s here to watch us,” Xia Lantime said. “He’ll inspect the grain and the accounts. Every expense and every record, he will cross-check. He isn’t merely coming to cause trouble for us. He is coming to make sure we have no loopholes whatsoever.”
Chi Banyue asked, “Is he difficult to deal with?”
When she had been in the capital, she had heard some things about Jiang Zechen, but they had never directly clashed with him.
She knew this man had been a classmate of Xiao Yuan and Xia Lantime at Yunlu Academy. The three of them had been outstanding students at the time and were collectively known as the Three Geniuses of Yunlu.
The scholars of the capital had even believed that the future Grand Secretary would emerge from either Xia Lantime or Jiang Zechen.
Xia Lantime was silent for a moment before saying,
“If we’re only talking about political ability, among their peers throughout the entire capital, apart from me, no one can consistently surpass him.”
He paused.
“He’s different from me. Rules come before everything else.”
Xia Lantime’s fingertips lightly rested on the peace clasp hidden inside his sleeve. His voice was extremely soft.
“…Of all people, it had to be him.”
Xiao Yuan looked at the confidential report but did not speak immediately.
Xia Lantime withdrew his gaze, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the paper.
Chi Banyue saw it.
It was a habitual movement he made when he was calculating something.
After a moment, he spoke.
“This man is extremely troublesome. He will force every subsequent task to go through another layer of procedure. Relief grain, construction projects, refugee resettlement, military farmland records—as long as it falls under the name of relief affairs, he can interfere. If we refuse to let him inspect them, it will appear that we have something to hide. If we let him inspect them, efficiency will drop by at least half.”
Xiao Yuan said, “The Crown Prince wants to find something he can use against me. Even if he cannot find anything, he can still obstruct me.”
He did not elaborate, but everyone understood what he meant.
At Linzhou, Hanchuan, and Qingshi Village, the Crown Prince’s people had suffered successive failures.
Now, although Linbei City was facing severe difficulties, it had not fallen. There was also the unexplained Guichen Medical Sect.
Chi Banyue could imagine the furious expression on Crown Prince Xiao Sheng’s face at this moment.
Xia Lantime folded the confidential report and placed it back on the table.
His movements were calm.
Then he raised his head and looked outside the window.
Wind and snow were approaching from afar.
“So the Crown Prince directly placed one of his people beside us, leaving us no way to keep him out of sight.”
Xia Lantime spoke gently.
Among the troops that had come with them, there were spies belonging to both the Emperor and the Crown Prince. They had deliberately kept those people outside the city in the military camp, using the excuse that the city could not accommodate so many people.
Xiao Yuan was silent for a moment.
“We cannot let him stay here for long.”
He could not allow even the slightest evidence to fall into the hands of the Crown Prince or the Emperor. Once something was discovered, it would be a dead end.
Xia Lantime did not reply.
He withdrew his gaze and looked down at his own hand.
Then he spoke, his voice as gentle as usual, yet carrying a trace of sharpness.
“I already have an idea.”
Chi Banyue saw the corner of his lips curve slightly.
It was extremely faint, like a thin glint of candlelight reflected off a blade.
She suddenly felt that although this man had only just recovered from his illness, he had already returned to the state of “sending a group of people on their way with a single brush.”
Still, she would not feel sorry for anyone Xia Lantime chose to deal with.
◇◆◇◆◇
Morning at Guichen Studio.
The bluestone road of Changning Alley was still wet. Last night’s rainstorm had not been heavy, but it had soaked the entire alley through, leaving behind a bone-chilling dampness.
When Su Muchen opened the shop door, wind rushed in from the mouth of the alley, carrying the dampness and dusty smell unique to the old district.
He stood at the entrance and stretched. Just as he was about to turn around and go back to make coffee, he saw Xiao appear at the end of the alley.
He was wearing his usual black shirt. His steps were no different from usual. His glasses and bangs covered half his face, and his expression was as ordinary as ever.
Su Muchen stood at the entrance for two seconds.
Then he lowered the hand that had been about to push the door open and stepped back, waiting for Xiao to come inside.
When Xiao entered the shop, he did not stop walking, as though he had merely come in to change shifts.
He walked behind the counter and took off his coat, hanging it over the back of a chair.
Su Muchen said nothing.
His gaze fell on Xiao’s left shoulder.
From the moment he entered the shop until he took off his coat, his left shoulder had barely moved.
“You’re injured?”
Xiao’s movements paused.
He did not turn his head, merely hanging up the coat as he replied evenly, “Can you tell?”
“When you took out your keys with your right hand, your left shoulder didn’t move. When normal people pick something up, both sides naturally balance each other. Just now, your left shoulder looked as if it had been nailed in place. There’s also a scrape on your face,” Su Muchen said. “And when you walked in, you stepped forward with your right foot first—”
“Mu’an.”
Xiao finally turned to look at him. His tone carried that familiar, lazy helplessness.
“Are you running a shop or a clinic?”
Su Muchen did not answer.
He walked up to the counter and reached toward Xiao’s left shoulder.
Xiao immediately stepped back, avoiding his hand.
Su Muchen’s brows furrowed deeply.
“Who was it?”
He knew Xiao was not an ordinary person. If it had merely been a simple fight, he would not have been injured.
Xiao was silent for a moment, his hand covering his left shoulder as though he wanted to hide the wound more deeply.
Then, in a tone as though he were talking about something unrelated to himself, he said,
“Nothing. Just got bitten by a few dogs.”
“Trying to hide it from me?”
His gaze fixed directly on Xiao.
Under his stare, Xiao sighed.
“Sheng Chengxiu.”
He leaned back against the chair and honestly answered him.
Su Muchen’s hand stopped in midair.
He said nothing, but when those two words reached his ears, his movement clearly paused.
He remembered that when Xiao had left last night, he had still been perfectly fine. He had even joked with him, saying, “It’s your turn to work the night shift today.”
At that time… he had not been injured yet.
“How many people?”
“About eight or nine.”
Su Muchen fell silent for a moment.
He asked calmly, but Xiao noticed it: the hand hanging at his side had tightened for an instant before relaxing again.
“Where?”
“The old district, near where I live.”
“The surveillance cameras?”
“Turned off.”
Su Muchen fell silent again.
He stood where he was, his gaze fixed on Xiao’s left shoulder.
He knew Xiao was minimizing the matter.
Just like in the past, when he had spent his lifespan to save someone, he had only said, “I happened to be passing by.”
But he could smell it—the faint scent of blood in the air, almost completely masked by the fragrance of cold plum.
He spoke, his voice lower than before.
“You were protecting me. You got hurt because of me.”
There was a trace of pain in Su Muchen’s voice.
Xiao raised his eyes to look at him.
“If it weren’t for me…” Su Muchen’s voice dropped. “You wouldn’t have had to deal with these things. You wouldn’t have had to go against Sheng Chengxiu—”
Xiao took off his glasses and placed them on the table.
“Mu’an.”
His tone was slightly more serious than before.
“I’m a Gatekeeper to begin with. Even without you, Sheng Chengxiu would have targeted me sooner or later.”
Su Muchen stood there without answering.
He knew Xiao was trying to keep him from blaming himself, but those words did not make him feel much better.
Sheng Chengxiu wanted to deal with him, but because Xiao had stood in the way, Sheng Chengxiu had made him a target instead.
Su Muchen looked at him.
“How’s the wound? Let me see.”
“No need. I’ve already treated it.”
Su Muchen looked up at him.
“Then let me take a look.”
“Not necessary.”
Su Muchen stood there and looked at him without moving.
He vaguely sensed that Xiao was avoiding something—not because of the wound, but because of another reason.
But he did not press him about it.
Originally, Su Muchen had merely disliked Sheng Chengxiu, thinking that he was someone who bullied others through his power.
Although Sheng Chengxiu had pressured him in various ways in the past, he had never directly attacked him. He had only used various methods to put pressure on him.
Su Muchen had thought Sheng Chengxiu was at least a civilized man.
He had never expected him to actually attack Xiao.
The more Su Muchen thought about it, the angrier he became.
“Are there any witnesses?”
Xiao knew exactly what Su Muchen intended to do, but he could only tell him the practical reality.
“You want to accuse Sheng Chengxiu of attempted murder? Do you think it’ll work?”
“Are we just going to let him do whatever he wants?!”
There was unwillingness and anger in Su Muchen’s voice.
“The people he hired were professional assassins. Every surveillance camera nearby that could have captured anything was shut down. Besides, even if they did capture it, so what? You absolutely wouldn’t be able to trace those people back to him. In the end, he wouldn’t be the one going to prison.”
“But you were sniped! You were almost assassinated!”
“Mm.”
Xiao’s reply was extremely calm, as though he did not particularly care.
“…”
“It was a mistake. Mine.”
“?”
“I originally thought Sheng Chengxiu wasn’t stupid enough to go this far. I miscalculated.”
“…”
Su Muchen was left utterly speechless by him.
“Mu’an, don’t take this matter to heart. This is a Gatekeeper’s job. Guarding the Gate comes with risks. Preventing people with ill intentions from coming into contact with the Gate and its key is a Gatekeeper’s responsibility.”
Su Muchen fell silent.
He knew Xiao was right, but he simply could not let it go so easily.
Just then, the sound of the back room’s door opening came from behind them.
Xiao Yuan had arrived.
When he entered the shop, he first looked at Su Muchen, confirming that he was safe and sound.
Then he noticed that Su Muchen’s expression was off.
His gaze shifted to Xiao behind the counter and lingered on his left shoulder for a moment.
“Sheng Chengxiu did this?”
Xiao Yuan asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Xiao raised his eyes and glanced at him.
“Your Highness has a good eye.”
He had not even moved, yet Xiao Yuan had already read the location of his injury from his posture.
Xiao Yuan’s eyes darkened slightly upon hearing this.
Sheng Chengxiu had made his move, and he had already begun eliminating obstacles.
That meant Su Muchen might also be in danger.
He did not ask for details.
He knew Xiao’s abilities very well. If he had been injured, the other side must have put considerable effort into it.
He walked into the open space in front of the counter and placed several documents on the table.
Then he asked,
“Can you handle it?”
His gaze was directed at Xiao, carrying a faint suggestion of, “Do you want me to wipe them out?”
“Since last night, we’ve already deployed more people to guard the area,” Xiao said. “He won’t be able to touch this place or Mu’an.”
He paused, then added, “Originally, whenever Mu’an went out, someone would follow him as well. We’ll be even more cautious recently.”
Xiao Yuan nodded, as though he already knew the answer.
He turned to Su Muchen.
“Mu’an, spend more time practicing opening the Gate.”
Su Muchen was slightly stunned.
Then he understood the meaning behind those words.
It was not urging him.
It was a contingency plan.
If an emergency arose, having the ability to open the Gate might allow him to escape with his life.
He merely nodded.
“I know.”
He paused, then turned to Xiao.
“You. After work today, you’re taking sick leave.”
Xiao raised an eyebrow.
“I said, after work.”
Su Muchen repeated himself.
“It’s a minor injury.”
“Then let me see it.”
“No need.”
“Then there’s nothing to discuss.”
Xiao fell silent for a moment.
He did not argue further. Instead, he set down the tablet.
Su Muchen thought he was going to take his coat and leave, but Xiao pulled his phone from his pocket instead and leaned back against the chair again.
“What are you doing?” Su Muchen asked.
“The general affairs manager of Guichen Studio has gone off work.”
Xiao turned on his phone without even raising his head.
“The Gatekeeper is at work.”
“…”
Su Muchen’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again.
He decided to add Xiao to the list of patients who were the least obedient to medical advice.
Xiao ignored him and simply lowered his head, scrolling through his phone.
Behind one person’s name, he changed the words “Observation Target” to “Target Pending Disposal.”
Su Muchen glanced at Xiao, then at Xiao Yuan, and finally gave up on trying to “persuade” him.
He could not leave Xiao Yuan standing there unattended.
“The situation in Linbei City.”
Xiao Yuan spoke, pushing several documents toward Su Muchen.
Su Muchen sat down in front of the counter and lowered his head to read the documents.
Xiao Yuan stood opposite him and began talking about Linbei City—repairing the city, food supplies, and epidemic control.
He spoke briefly, as though only explaining the parts Su Muchen needed to know.
Su Muchen listened while nodding, occasionally making a few notes along the edge of the paper.
“There’s one more thing.”
Xiao Yuan’s tone did not change, but the rhythm of those words slowed slightly.
Su Muchen raised his head.
Xiao Yuan’s gaze rested on his face without moving.
“In the underground space beneath the ruins of an ancient shrine in the southeastern corner of Linbei City, we discovered a naturally formed cavern that has been developed into an underground structure with three levels. On the third level… there is a Gate.”
Su Muchen’s pen stopped above the paper.
He raised his head.
“The same as the Gate at Guichen Studio.”
Xiao Yuan said it to him, but as he spoke, his gaze shifted slightly toward Xiao.
“I went there to confirm it. There was light when the door ring was touched, but the Gate itself couldn’t be pushed open.”
Su Muchen turned to look at Xiao.
He did not say anything, but his eyes were already asking the question.
Xiao put down his phone and looked at Su Muchen.
“That’s a Gate to the other side of the world. It’s equivalent to an anchor point. If you can open the Gate, you’ll arrive there.”
“Why can’t Xiao Yuan open it?”
“The principle is the same. You don’t need to use an actual Gate on this side to travel to the other side,” Xiao said. “Just like no matter where Xiao Yuan opens a Gate in the Great Sheng, it always connects to Guichen Studio. If you can open the Gate in the future, you’ll arrive at the Gate beneath Linbei City.”
Su Muchen lowered his head and looked at the edge of the document, as though he were trying to understand the information all over again.
Xiao Yuan had already understood.
That Gate was merely an anchor point.
The key to the Gate in this world—meaning Su Muchen—determined the place where he would arrive.
Su Muchen was silent for a moment, still digesting the information, but then he thought of something else.
“What about above it? We can’t just leave that Gate there.”
“A Northern Frontier Martyrs’ Shrine will be built above it,” Xiao Yuan said.
Su Muchen looked at him, as though waiting for what came next.
Xiao Yuan did not say anything more, but he knew Su Muchen had already understood.
There would be a shrine above ground and a Gate underground.
No one would investigate beneath a Martyrs’ Shrine.
Su Muchen was silent for a moment before lowering his head and continuing to read the documents.
But when his pen touched the paper, it moved faster than before.
“That’s good,” he said. “The supplies can be sent directly underground.”
Xiao Yuan did not reply.
He stood opposite the counter, quietly watching Su Muchen’s profile as he lowered his head and wrote.
Su Muchen’s fingers moved along the lines at the edge of the paper as he thought and spoke.
“If I really can open the Gate, the supplies won’t need to pass through too many places. They can be sent directly underground in Linbei City. With the Martyrs’ Shrine as cover above it, no one will find out.”
He raised his head.
“The Crown Prince’s people won’t discover it either.”
There was a faint flicker of excitement in his eyes.
He had originally intended to support Xiao Yuan over the long term because Xiao Yuan had only one path to survival.
Now that they had found the Gate, it was undoubtedly like adding wings to a tiger.
Xiao Yuan simply stood there looking at him.
His gaze fell on Su Muchen’s bangs, which had grown long enough to nearly cover his eyes.
Whenever Su Muchen lowered his head to write, he had to reach up from time to time to brush them aside, tucking them to the side before continuing to write.
“Your hair has grown longer,” Xiao Yuan said.
His tone was very light, as though he had simply mentioned it in passing.
Su Muchen did not raise his head. The tip of his pen continued moving.
“Mm. I’ve been too busy lately and haven’t had time to get it cut.”
His tone was casual, as though they were merely chatting as usual.
Xiao Yuan did not respond.
He simply stood there, watching Su Muchen’s bangs fall down again and again as he wrote, only to be brushed aside each time—a silent battle between him and his hair.
“Keep it.”
Su Muchen was still calculating which supplies he would send this time.
When he heard Xiao Yuan say those words, he raised his head and looked at him.
But Xiao Yuan said nothing more.
Su Muchen wondered to himself whether those words were an order or something else.
In the past, as a medical student and an ordinary modern person, he had naturally been accustomed to short hair and had never grown it long.
Now, he no longer needed to maintain the appearance of a doctor, because after this, he probably would never be able to return to that position.
“I’ll consider it.”
He answered.
Then he lowered his head and finished writing the last line.