Early in the morning, the Northern Frontier Administrative Office’s council hall was already open.
The charcoal fire burned a little more vigorously than it had over the past two days. Pei Yi had specifically ordered more charcoal to be added that morning—not because the weather was colder, but because there was an extra person today.
With one more person, the warmth in the hall was no longer enough to go around.
He did not like that person, though he could not say why.
He had heard that the man had come from the capital. He sat opposite Chief Secretary Xia, across half the table, like a fish left on the shore that was still breathing.
When Pei Yi entered the council hall, he first glanced at Xia Lanshi’s seat, confirming that he had not arrived yet, then swept his gaze over the other faces in the hall.
The registrar and grain officer were both there.
Finally, his gaze landed on the corner, where someone he did not know was sitting.
The man sat at the end of the long table. An empty notebook lay beside him, and he was lowering his head, lightly tracing something along the edge of the paper with the tip of his pen.
He wore a dark blue-green official robe. There was not a single wrinkle in the hem, and his back was straight, like a ruler that had been repeatedly calibrated.
The entire council hall had a subtly different atmosphere because of his presence.
He did not fit in.
Pei Yi glanced at him without saying anything.
Sensing his gaze, the man raised his head and nodded slightly, as if greeting him, or as if saying, “I know who you are.”
Pei Yi also nodded once, then looked away and walked toward his usual seat.
He did not like that man’s eyes.
They were too quiet.
So quiet that it seemed as though they were watching something.
Like a pair of eyes planted here to monitor their every move.
Pei Yi withdrew his gaze and did not look again, walking straight to his usual position.
He placed a rolled-up map on the desk and flattened the corners, as though confirming that his things were still in their proper place.
People gradually arrived at the council hall.
When the grain officer entered, he quietly exchanged a few words with the registrar, his gaze unintentionally sweeping toward the end of the long table before quickly withdrawing.
The registrar responded with a sound of acknowledgment and flipped open a page of the notebook in his hand, as if confirming something.
Xia Lanshi entered the hall somewhat later.
His steps were no different from usual. He paused at the entrance for a moment, confirming that everyone in the hall had already taken their places.
His gaze faintly swept toward the end of the long table, briefly meeting Jiang Zechen’s eyes.
A faint smile appeared on Xia Lanshi’s face.
He spoke first, his tone gentle enough to sound like a genuine greeting.
“Lord Jiang, you arrived quite early.”
Jiang Zechen put down his pen and raised his head. He wore the same gentle expression on his face.
It was like one mirror facing another. No one could tell which one was real.
“Lord Chief Secretary Xia, you’re not late either.”
The two sentences fell into the hall like two leaves landing on the surface of water, disturbing no one.
But Pei Yi noticed that when Xia Lanshi sat down at his desk, he moved the documents on the table less than an inch toward himself, as if unconsciously adjusting an invisible boundary.
Before the meeting began, everyone was still gradually taking their seats.
Xia Lanshi spread out the documents, then took out a pen and placed it beside the inkstone.
Jiang Zechen’s gaze fell upon that pen.
The pen shaft was a deep purple, almost black, and the edges had already been worn until they gleamed faintly.
Xia Lanshi had used it for many years. The color of the shaft had been worn down so much that its original pattern could barely be seen.
He recognized that pen.
They were all still using the things Grand Tutor Xia had given them.
Jiang Zechen shifted his gaze away and did not look again.
Everyone else gradually arrived and took their seats.
Yet the seat of honor was still empty.
The council hall was very quiet.
Occasionally, the charcoal fire gave off a faint crackling sound.
No one spoke to urge him.
No one lowered their head to discuss anything.
Everyone was waiting.
At the end of the long table, Jiang Zechen lowered his head and opened the first page of the empty notebook, as though waiting for the rhythm of this city to reveal itself.
When Xiao Yuan arrived, there was no announcement.
He merely brought in a gust of wind.
By the time he entered the council hall, everyone had already been waiting for nearly half an hour. No one dared urge him, and no one showed any impatience.
He walked to the seat of honor and sat down, his movements completely ordinary, as though he were merely a little later than everyone else.
Jiang Zechen lowered his head and made a note in the notebook, the tip of his pen pressing down extremely lightly.
Xiao Yuan’s gaze swept over the end of the long table, paused for less than half a beat, then calmly moved away.
“Begin,” he said.
Xia Lanshi spoke first, his tone as usual.
The matter of repairing the city walls, the shortage of stone, the progress of the construction period, the allocation of manpower—he went through each matter one by one, like a thread that had been unraveled and was now being wound back onto its spool.
Pei Yi sat there. When he heard Xia Lanshi mention the shortage of stone, his back tensed for a moment before returning to normal.
He followed up with a few words.
“Transporting stone from Hanchuan will take at least seven days. If the road conditions worsen, I’m afraid it will take ten.”
Xia Lanshi nodded, as though he had already calculated this number many times.
Jiang Zechen sat at the end of the long table and simply listened quietly.
When Xia Lanshi spoke with Pei Yi, his gaze would remain on the speaker’s face for a moment before lowering again. The tip of his pen moved across the paper, as if recording something.
He did not interrupt.
He did not ask questions.
He did not even raise his head to look toward Xiao Yuan.
Pei Yi did not like that kind of quiet.
That silence did not seem like listening.
It was more like taking every sentence apart and then putting it into another box that he could not see.
Finally, he could not help speaking.
“Lord Jiang seems to have brought some supplies with him.”
Jiang Zechen raised his eyes, as if waiting for him to continue.
Pei Yi continued, “Since the imperial court sent Lord Jiang here, I assume you brought some things.”
There was no sarcasm in his tone, nor any expectation.
He was merely stating something that had already happened.
Jiang Zechen did not respond.
He simply turned another page of the notebook, then took out a document from beside him and pushed it toward the center of the table.
Xia Lanshi reached out and took it, opening it.
He read very quickly. His finger moved across the page as if tracing a route that had already been predicted.
After a moment, he put the document down without saying anything.
Jiang Zechen’s tone was gentle.
“The Ministry of Revenue has allocated two hundred shi of grain, one hundred cotton-padded coats, and three crates of medicinal herbs. The soldiers accompanying the grain convoy have already been added to the roster of the Linbei City garrison.”
After saying this, he paused, then added, “The national treasury is strained, so the quantity is not large. I ask Your Highness to understand.”
Xiao Yuan did not answer immediately.
He already knew the quantity of those supplies.
Two hundred shi of grain, one hundred cotton-padded coats, and three crates of medicinal herbs.
For a city of Linbei’s population, it was indeed not much.
He also knew that half of the supplies Jiang Zechen had brought were perfunctory garbage.
The rice was mixed with sand.
The cotton-padded coats were as thin as paper.
Jiang Zechen might not know.
Or he might know.
But he had no obligation to point it out.
Xiao Yuan knew that the imperial court was merely putting on a show, while Jiang Zechen was simply following orders and bringing that show to the Northern Frontier.
“Thank you for your trouble,” he said, his tone without much fluctuation.
The tip of Jiang Zechen’s pen paused.
But he did not raise his head.
He simply continued writing.
The council hall was quiet for a while.
Only the faint crackle of charcoal and the sound of the pen moving across paper remained.
Pei Yi did not like Jiang Zechen because he was too quiet, so quiet that he did not seem like someone who had come here to handle business.
If he had directly made demands in front of everyone or pointed out problems, perhaps he would have been easier to deal with.
But he did not.
Pei Yi said nothing more.
After the meeting ended, everyone gradually rose and left.
Xia Lanshi was the last to leave.
He gathered the documents on the desk one by one, making sure nothing had been left behind.
Jiang Zechen had already reached the door when he stopped.
He did not turn around.
He only said one sentence, his tone as calm as it had been in the council hall, as if merely mentioning it in passing.
“Lord Chief Secretary Xia, if you are free tomorrow, I would like to take a look at Linbei City’s granaries.”
Xia Lanshi’s fingertips paused for a moment on the edge of the document.
He did not raise his head.
Then he finished gathering the documents, as though he had not heard those words.
But he knew.
Jiang Zechen had already begun calculating.
And he had already prepared his next move.
He was merely somewhat surprised.
Jiang Zechen had revealed his blade sooner than he had expected.
◇◆◇◆◇
After night fell, the lights in Guichen House were still on.
Su Muchen had just finished checking the final batch of supply lists. He was preparing to clear the table when familiar sounds came from the back room.
Cold white light seeped through the crack beneath the door.
When Xiao Yuan walked out, traces of unmelted snow still clung to his shoulders.
As always, he carried that wooden box in his hands and placed it on the table.
When the box landed on the tabletop, it made the same steady sound as usual, like a chess piece landing in the position where it belonged.
Su Muchen glanced at the box but did not immediately take it.
Then he put down the pen in his hand, as if weighing something.
When he spoke, his voice was calm.
“You can take this back for now.”
Xiao Yuan’s hand stopped at the edge of the table, as though he had not heard clearly, yet had already heard perfectly well.
Su Muchen stood up and opened the safe beneath the counter for him to see.
The gold inside was still piled high. Some of it had even begun sliding outward.
“The debts Su Jiancheng owed have already been repaid by the collateral branch of the Su family. Only one student loan of my own remains, about one and a half million taels of silver, but it’s not a problem.”
He patted the dust from his hands, a relaxation that could not be hidden from his voice.
“The ownership of Guichen House is also almost back. All that’s left is to finish the procedures.”
There was a smile on his face.
“The gold you brought is enough. It’s actually too much. And I really don’t have anywhere else to put it.”
What he was thinking was that Xiao Yuan’s side should also be very short of funds.
Xiao Yuan needed to repair the city, build houses, purchase all kinds of supplies, and pay the salaries and wages of a large number of people.
Besides, Xiao Yuan really had brought too much.
The safe could not hold it all.
He also had no way to rent a large safe-deposit vault at a bank, so in the end he could only pile it in the underground storeroom in the backyard.
Xiao Yuan lowered his head and glanced at the safe without saying anything.
Su Muchen felt that he was somewhat quieter than usual, but did not think much of it.
He closed the safe door, patted the dust from his hands, then turned and picked up the cup of cold coffee on the table and took a sip.
“Actually, I didn’t expect things to go this smoothly either,” he said. There was a feeling in his voice like he could finally breathe properly again. “The pressure was enormous before. Every day, the moment I opened my eyes, I was calculating money. Now that it’s suddenly not so tight, it actually feels a little unreal.”
He smiled, like someone who had just put down a heavy burden from his shoulders and was learning to adapt to the lightness.
His entire body was relaxed.
It was the kind of state in which he had truly relaxed for the first time in a very long while.
Xiao Yuan stood across from him behind the counter, quietly watching him.
He saw Su Muchen’s smile.
He saw how his fingers were no longer tense when he held the coffee.
He saw that his brows were no longer tightly furrowed.
He saw that he was finally no longer the person burdened by debt, guarding a broken shop, and being relentlessly pressured by the Sheng family.
He was happy for him.
That was genuine.
But mixed into that happiness was something he had not said aloud.
“I’m sincerely happy for you,” Xiao Yuan said.
“Thank you. You helped me a lot too. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to take that first step.”
Su Muchen recalled that night and could not help laughing softly.
“At the time, I never imagined that I was merely coming here to check the situation, only to have someone put a knife to me.”
Remembering what had happened then, Xiao Yuan said somewhat awkwardly, “I’m sorry. At the time, I was being hunted by the Crown Prince’s people, and I was injured…”
Su Muchen waved his hand without caring.
“I know. I don’t blame you. I just suddenly feel a little nostalgic.”
Xiao Yuan quietly watched his profile and the smile on his face.
He wanted to ask, “What are you planning to do afterward?”
The question lingered in his heart for a while.
In the end, he could not say it.
He only said, “Jiang Zechen has arrived. He also attended the council meeting. Tomorrow, he’s planning to inspect the granaries and the grain records.”
Su Muchen put down his cup and thought for a moment.
“He came to investigate you. People like him are the hardest to deal with. Everything they do follows the rules. Unless you can make him play by your rules.”
But Xiao Yuan could not possibly follow the rules completely.
If Xiao Yuan wanted to survive, he could only find gaps within the rules.
He paused.
“However, he is ultimately a scholar. Scholars all have things they believe in, and they are extremely stubborn about them. If you can figure out what he believes in, you may have a chance to find his weakness and use it against him.”
Xiao Yuan nodded and did not immediately respond.
He watched Su Muchen lower his head and brush his bangs aside.
Only then did he remember that Su Muchen had not always been like this.
That habitual movement of brushing back his hair had already become so natural that it was almost as though he had become a different person.
The two of them discussed several more matters concerning Linbei City.
As well as the supplies that would be sent later.
After they had reached a stopping point—
“How is your practice of opening the Door?” Xiao Yuan asked.
Su Muchen paused, then lowered his hand.
“I’ve been practicing, but there hasn’t been much progress. I can feel the Door, but I can’t grasp it.”
He turned to glance toward the back room.
“It’s like… standing beside a river, hearing the sound of water, but being unable to touch the water.”
Xiao Yuan nodded without asking further.
He looked toward the back room before speaking.
“It takes time.”
Su Muchen stood behind the counter.
“Mm.”
When the cold white light appeared again, Xiao Yuan’s figure was swallowed by the light, taking the supplies and the letter for Xia Lanshi with him.
After the door closed, Guichen House became quiet again.
Su Muchen looked at the closed door, then at the safe beneath the counter, where the gold was piled high.
For some reason, he always felt that Xiao Yuan had been quieter than usual just now.
Although he had never been a man of many words, Su Muchen still could not say exactly what felt wrong.
He did not think too much about it and continued organizing the lists.
On the other side of the Door, after Xiao Yuan walked out of the white light, he stood in the storeroom of the Northern Frontier Administrative Office for a long time.
He stood there without immediately leaving the storeroom, simply listening to the wind seeping through the gaps between the bricks.
There was one thing he could now be certain of.
Su Muchen no longer needed to rely on gold to survive.
He pushed open the storeroom door and walked into the night.
His steps were a little faster than when he had come, as though he were eager to leave some place, yet did not know where he should go after leaving.
◆◇◆◇◆
Midnight.
Xiao Yuan’s tent.
The charcoal fire burned more vigorously than usual.
Xiao Yuan had given no orders, yet his personal guards automatically added more charcoal, as though even the soldiers standing night watch had sensed that something was different.
When he returned, his expression was no different from usual.
That difference was not reflected on his face, but in his footsteps.
They were a little faster than usual.
When Xia Lanshi arrived, he was wearing a thick cloak. His snow-white hair seemed to have been left unarranged in his haste, loosely tied into a half-bun, with his usual white-jade hairpin inserted casually into it.
When he entered the tent, he glanced at Xiao Yuan’s expression.
He said nothing.
He simply sat down beside the desk.
Chi Banyue arrived somewhat later than him. Her long hair was casually draped over her shoulders, as though she had already gone to bed and then been called back up.
She did not complain.
After glancing at the atmosphere inside the tent, she leaned against the tent pole and stood there with her arms folded, as though waiting.
The tent was quiet.
The atmosphere was different from usual, the air like a tightly drawn string.
If they had not received any urgent military report, Chi Banyue would have thought the Northern Di had launched an all-out attack.
Xiao Yuan did not exchange pleasantries.
He sat before the desk, a lamp in front of him. The firelight illuminated his face, making the lines between his brows and eyes especially clear.
The silence was not long.
But it was long enough for Xia Lanshi to eliminate, one by one, everything Xiao Yuan might be about to say.
It was also long enough for Chi Banyue to adjust her posture into one of “ready to listen.”
When Xiao Yuan spoke, his voice was somewhat lower than usual.
“—He no longer needs the gold.”
Chi Banyue did not move, but her brows knitted slightly.
Xia Lanshi’s fingers curled lightly inside his sleeve.
Xiao Yuan continued, as if organizing a thread that even he had not yet fully sorted out.
“The debts have been cleared. Only one student loan remains, approximately one and a half million taels of silver. The gold he has is more than enough. The ownership of Guichen House is almost recovered. Only the procedures remain unfinished. Sheng Chengxiu has made no move for the time being. As for the Su family… although they haven’t forced him into marriage for now, they were the ones who repaid the debts.”
He paused, as if confirming the weight of his final sentence.
“He will soon regain his freedom.”
Xia Lanshi was silent for a moment before speaking. His tone was calm, as though stating a fact that had already been calculated.
“At present, Doctor Su is willing to help us because of three things—debt, the heart of a physician, and Your Highness.”
After saying this, he paused, his fingertip lightly tracing a line across the tabletop.
“The first point is about to disappear. As for the second, a physician saves people, but he has no obligation to give his entire life to the Northern Frontier. So what remains… is only the third.”
The tent was silent for a moment.
Chi Banyue stood beside the tent pole. She had been quietly listening all this time, but now suddenly spoke.
“The Su family won’t give up.”
Xia Lanshi and Xiao Yuan both looked at her.
“They failed to force Doctor Su into marriage, so they changed their method.”
Chi Banyue’s tone was as calm as if she were describing something she had seen many times before.
“If force doesn’t work, then they’ll use gentleness. First, they’ll repay Doctor Su’s debts and recover Guichen House. After that, there will be other arrangements. For example: introducing young ladies, elders crying, pressure from the clan, or even finding matchmakers to come to his door every day.”
She paused as if thinking about something, then added:
“A man may not necessarily be able to defeat a woman.”
The tent fell silent for a moment.
Xiao Yuan did not respond.
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, as though thinking about something else.
“If I were Doctor Su,” Xia Lanshi suddenly said, his voice very soft, as if speaking to himself, “I certainly wouldn’t keep helping the Northern Frontier forever.”
Chi Banyue looked at him.
Xia Lanshi continued, as though organizing a thought he had already considered for a long time.
“He is not a citizen of Dasheng. There is no reason for him to keep taking risks. Now that his life has returned to normal, he can completely find another job, open a medical clinic, and take care of Guichen House. He could even… start a family.”
The final two words fell into the tent like a chess piece landing on the board.
They were not heavy, yet they made the entire chessboard fall silent for a moment.
Su Muchen had resisted the marriage before only because the other side’s methods had been too forceful. Although he was soft-hearted, he did not yield to force.
So if the Su family changed their strategy, that meant persistent soft persuasion.
One day, Su Muchen might very well accept.
As the last remaining person of the direct Su lineage, once he had calmed down, Su Muchen might truly consider it.
Xiao Yuan remained silent.
He sat before the desk, his gaze falling upon the lamp, as though looking at a crack he had never noticed before.
He had never thought about it before.
Or rather, he had been unwilling to think deeply about it.
One day, Su Muchen would marry.
He would have children.
He would have a life of his own.
He might even gradually stop opening the Door.
It was not that Xiao Yuan had never thought about Su Muchen leaving.
He simply had never imagined that the leaving would be so quiet, so normal, and of the kind that he had no right to stop.
And it had come much sooner than he had expected.
So much sooner that he was caught completely unprepared.
Chi Banyue stood beside the tent pole and quietly watched Xiao Yuan’s expression for a while.
Then she spoke, her tone lighter than before, as though saying it for one person’s ears.
“Your Highness, if Doctor Su starts a family, will the light at Guichen House still remain lit every night?”
The sentence fell into the tent.
No one refuted it.
Xiao Yuan did not answer.
But he knew that the words had landed precisely in a place he did not want to touch.
Before, every night he entered Guichen House, Su Muchen would be there.
He would light a lamp, sit behind the counter, lower his head to write something, and when he heard the door, he would look up at Xiao Yuan.
After confirming that he was unharmed, he would put down his pen and walk into the back kitchen to cook porridge.
All of that was because Su Muchen was still alone.
If one day there were another person waiting for Su Muchen to return home, those nights would probably become different.
What if he no longer waited for him?
At the thought, it felt as though someone had stabbed a needle into his chest.
And the needle remained there.
Xia Lanshi was silent for a very long time.
Then he finally spoke, his tone calm, as though saying something he had thought about long ago but had never said aloud.
“Your Highness, if you want to keep someone, you cannot rely solely on benefits. Benefits will eventually come to an end. You must make him willing to return on his own.”
Xiao Yuan did not respond.
He sat there in silence for a long time.
So long that the charcoal fire had already dimmed by another layer.
It was as if he had stopped on a road he had walked countless times and finally discovered a tree beside the road that he had never noticed before.
“I never thought of using gold to bind him,” he said.
Xia Lanshi nodded slightly.
“I know.”
Xiao Yuan’s gaze remained on the lamp.
His voice was low.
“But now, I suddenly realize that if even gold is no longer needed, what reason do I have left?”
He was not certain how Su Muchen truly viewed him.
Thinking back over everything in the past—
The first time he bandaged his wounds.
The first time he returned his sword to him.
The first time he became angry and scolded him.
The first time he cooked porridge for him.
The first time he called him Jingyuan.
The first time he said, “Remember to take your medicine.”
The first time he said, “We’ll solve it one thing at a time.”
He had written on paper:
When the Door does not open, I will wait.
When the Door opens, I will be there.
He had established a medical record for him.
Written manual after manual for him.
Lit a lamp for him that he could return to.
In the past, these had merely been things he remembered.
But today, they suddenly became extraordinarily clear.
Like fine, continuous snow falling down—although it was not heavy, without him realizing it, it had accumulated to such a profound depth.
He finally realized that Su Muchen had always treated him sincerely, caring about him even more than a true family member would.
But he had thought Su Muchen needed him.
Today, however, he was no longer so certain.
And what had he ever done for Su Muchen?
While he was still thinking about maintaining his distance from Su Muchen, the other person was already preparing to turn around and leave.
The tent was silent again for a long time.
No one answered.
Because that question had no answer.
Or perhaps the answer could not yet be spoken.
Chi Banyue was the first to leave.
When she stepped outside the tent, the wind and snow had stopped.
She looked back into the tent.
Xiao Yuan was still sitting before the desk. The lamplight had dimmed somewhat.
He had not moved, as though thinking about something he had not yet finished thinking through.
Xia Lanshi was the last to leave.
When he rose and walked to the tent entrance, he stopped.
He did not turn around.
His voice was very low.
“Your Highness.”
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes.
“I am not worried about losing someone who supplies us with resources.”
Xia Lanshi paused.
“I am worried that you have only now realized that what you truly fear is not Doctor Su leaving.”
He took a breath.
“It is that one day, he will no longer need you to return.”
Although Su Muchen’s support could help them greatly shorten the preparation time for the “plan,”
Su Muchen had never been part of the original plan.
And now, everything was simply returning to how it had been before.
Xiao Yuan did not answer.
Xia Lanshi had already lifted the tent flap and walked out.
The night wind rushed in, causing the lamplight to flicker before settling back into stillness.
Only Xiao Yuan remained inside the tent.
He sat there without lighting another lamp, simply allowing the darkness to slowly descend.
He remembered how calmly Su Muchen had said, “The gold is enough now.”
It had sounded as though he were talking about something unrelated to Xiao Yuan.
As though he were smiling and saying:
“I don’t need to owe you anymore.”
But he had not said those words.
He had only said:
“You don’t need to bring any more gold.”
Xiao Yuan understood.
That was why he had panicked.
He sat in the darkness, listening to the wind seeping through the gaps in the tent curtains, as though reminding him that the Door would not remain open forever.
He suddenly understood.
What truly closed might not necessarily be that Door.
It might also be the person on the other side of it.
One day, that person might decide for himself that he would no longer walk toward this Door.
That he would no longer light a lamp and wait for someone.
Perhaps one day, when he opened the door of Guichen House again, there would be nothing there but darkness.