Xie Ci was a man who did what he said. The afternoon after speaking with Gu Wan, he went to the left-wing room where Madam Xun was recuperating.
Madam Xun’s face was still somewhat pale. After serving his mother medicine, he knelt solemnly at her bedside and reported his two decisions.
Madam Xun, gentle and kind by nature for most of her life, had grown stronger in recent days, yet she was still not as resolute as Second Sister‑in‑law. When she heard Xie Ci say he intended to go to the frontier to investigate the Xie family’s case, the color drained from her face.
“Sigh… in truth, I know. Little Fourth is bound to make this journey.”
By evening, the torrential rain had eased somewhat. Raindrops pattered on the apricot branches swaying in the wind, scattering small green apricots across the ground, though many still clung stubbornly to the branches.
Second Sister‑in‑law picked one up, wiped it with her hand, and popped it straight into her mouth. The sour taste made her let out a long sigh. Her surname was Qin, given name Ying — a young woman with delicate features and heroic spirit. Rolling up her trouser legs, she sat directly on the stone steps beside Gu Wan.
The small courtyard was filled with the sound of rain, drowning out all worldly noise. Through the curtain of water, the view beyond the walls remained unchanged: banana trees and tiled eaves.
Dusk approached, the evening breeze mingling with the drizzle, bringing a refreshing coolness in the height of summer.
“The men of the Xie family… they’re all fools.”
She could not rest easy letting Xie Ci go alone. Were the Xie men strong? Yes. But they were stubborn, with a rigid streak in their bones that could not bend. And that stubbornness meant they would suffer losses. And once they suffered a loss — it would last a lifetime.
Second Sister‑in‑law recalled that young man in black armor, riding slowly on horseback. In the spring breeze, the red cloak highlighted the resolute arch of his brows; under lamplight, when he smiled, it was gentle and focused, and those dark eyes shone even brighter than the lamps themselves. Her eyes grew hot with emotion. She blinked hard to suppress the feeling, exhaled, and gave Gu Wan a small smile before saying softly: “Our family cannot afford to lose another member.”
She discussed with Gu Wan: “I’ve been thinking — either you or I must go with him. Watch over him, remind him when necessary, stop him if need be. That’s the only way.”
Second Sister‑in‑law leaned more toward going herself, but what held her back were the two children who had just lost their father.
In truth, Gu Wan proved to be very clever and quick‑witted.
After such upheaval, everyone had grown in some way, but Gu Wan’s transformation was the most striking. Though younger, she was one of only two women in this household capable of taking charge and inspiring confidence. So Second Sister‑in‑law wanted to discuss with Gu Wan which of them should go: “One of us accompanies Little Fourth, the other stays home. Let the men do the work — don’t pity them.”
“In two or three years, Mingming will be grown.”
He could then shoulder the household responsibilities. If Gu Wan found a suitor she favored, marrying at eighteen or nineteen would be just right.
Inside or outside the home, each choice had its pros and cons. Second Sister‑in‑law could not decide immediately. But overall, the arrangement was clear: one would go, one would stay. She did not treat Gu Wan as an outsider at all.
In fact, the Xie family truly did not see Gu Wan as an outsider.
The original host had lived in the Xie household for ten years — the Duke’s manor was her home.
From the moment of the family’s downfall, Second Sister‑in‑law had done her utmost to care for everyone, and Gu Wan was included. Later, once her illness passed and she regained her strength, she joined Second Sister‑in‑law in caring for the family.
Gu Wan believed that even if she were useless in the Xie household—lying around like a salted fish, doing only a bit of housework—the Xie family would still support her, most likely without complaint.
*Ahhh, you treat me like this, how can I not feel torn…!*
She turned her head to look at Second Sister‑in‑law. As dusk deepened and the lamplight grew dim, this woman in a short tunic, beautiful and spirited yet with delicate features, seemed like a fleeting shadow in the flow of years. Her gaze, calm and powerful, was like the waters of an early summer lake.
Seeing the young girl’s wide, round eyes fixed on her, Second Sister‑in‑law couldn’t help but smile. She reached out and tucked the stray hair from Gu Wan’s cheek behind her ear.
Gu Wan smiled shyly, feeling her ear tickle, scratching at it hard. When she shifted her gaze, she noticed at the far end of the eaves, beneath the roof of the back kitchen, three children — a ten‑year‑old boy, a ten‑year‑old girl, and a five‑year‑old boy. Standing on stools to reach, they were busily scooping rainwater from the storage jar under the eaves into the kitchen’s water vat. They were Xie Fifth Brother and Second Sister‑in‑law’s son and daughter. The three children were very sensible, always working hard at the household chores within their ability.
That morning, the little girl held an umbrella and led her younger brother to pick up the fallen apricots from the ground—the larger, yellowing ones. She arranged them on a plate, dividing them among grandmother, third aunt, younger sister, and elder brother’s rooms, as well as second aunt and uncle. Finally, clutching two big, golden apricots, she ran over and pressed them into Gu Wan’s hands, saying: “These are for Auntie to eat.”
“And what about you?” Gu Wan asked.
“We won’t eat them.” The two children, one big and one small, smiled shyly at her, then ran back to the kitchen hand in hand.
Gu Wan recalled from the original host’s memories that woman — filthy, wild like a mad tiger — who leaped into a military camp at midnight and hacked the commander’s family of thirteen into pieces. That image overlapped with the calm, handsome, heroic face of the woman before her.
With Second Sister‑in‑law present this time, she and Xie Ci might not necessarily go and never return. But it had to be admitted: such a possibility still existed.
Moreover, after sharing hardship for so long, there was indeed some bond between Gu Wan and Xie Ci. The thought of him following in his father and brothers’ footsteps, dying young, without even a whole body left behind — it made her unbearably uncomfortable. Yet no matter how much she wanted to, she could not foretell the future or reveal the truth outright. Ahhh!
Second Sister‑in‑law’s tone leaned toward going herself. Gu Wan could tell. Rationally, she knew she ought to agree and go along with it, but when she opened her mouth several times, the words just wouldn’t come. She scratched her head: “Oh, I’ll think about it, I’ll think about it.”
Second Sister‑in‑law couldn’t help but laugh: “All right, then think. No rush, there’s still time.”
Just then, the physician’s wife returned from buying groceries, arms full of bags, knocking on the door and calling out. Second Sister‑in‑law quickly stood, opened an oil‑paper umbrella, and hurried to meet her.
Gu Wan scratched her head again, then flopped back weakly. Oh, this is really too difficult for me.
Gu Wan thought it over again and again: if she went, she couldn’t convince herself; if she didn’t go, her conscience wouldn’t let her rest. But in the end, she didn’t need to hesitate. Something happened that made her settle her decision almost immediately.
Heavy rains, alternating between torrents and drizzle, had lasted half a month. June passed into July, and at last the skies cleared. After more than two weeks of gloom, the rain finally ended, and the morning sun broke through.
Early that morning, Xie Ci and Gu Wan set out.
In recent days, word had spread that the dikes in Qu County upstream had collapsed, causing significant flooding. Now that the rains had stopped, nearby prefectures began arranging for refugees to return, and the work of re‑registering households was underway.
When Xie Ci first heard this, he immediately said: “The chance to register households has come!”
Second Sister‑in‑law brought out a packet of silver — back when they had broken the prisoners free, many convicts had overturned the guards’ carts, looted goods, and fled in the chaos. Quick‑eyed, she had snatched up several items herself.
Gu Wan’s face lit up with delight, clapping her hands: “Second Sister‑in‑law, you’re amazing!”
Second Sister‑in‑law rolled her eyes: “It’s just that the men of the Xie family are all fools.”
The two women exchanged a glance and shared a smile of mutual understanding.
Taking the packet of silver, Xie Ci and Gu Wan set off for Qu County, while Second Sister‑in‑law stayed behind to look after the household.
The two harnessed a mule cart and traveled slowly along the road. Gu Wan asked: “Shouldn’t we go faster?” She was afraid they might miss the timing.
But Xie Ci shook his head slightly: “No need. It won’t be that quick.”
Gu Wan thought it over and realized he was right. Refugees couldn’t move fast. The front and rear of the procession weren’t suitable; blending into the crowded middle was the best choice.
Xie Ci, having spent his youth mingling in the capital, was familiar with all ranks and classes. Bringing Gu Wan to Qu County — a bustling transport hub by the Fen River — he found the city lively again, with people and horses moving about, life gradually returning to normal.
At the city gates, rows of grass sheds had been set up. Officials and clerks had moved their workstations there, so refugees and flood victims could register directly. After verification, they could also register later in their villages, with the local headmen compiling the records.
Those who had fled with their household registers and land deeds found the process easy — just a quick check. But when the dike broke at night, with rain continuing for half a day, many fled in haste without bringing documents. Others carried them but without oilcloth protection, so the papers were soaked, ruined, and illegible. These cases were all processed as refugee registrations.
Driving the mule cart, Xie Ci went straight into the city. With Gu Wan, he wound through streets lined with brothels and taverns, spending some time observing and inquiring before entering a pawnshop. He wrote a small note and slipped it behind the counter. The shopkeeper, seated behind the tall counter, glanced at it and pointed toward the room on the left.
Handling “false certificate” business was not uncommon even in ordinary times. But now, with the chance to re‑register genuine documents, many sought it out.
Ahead of Xie Ci and Gu Wan was another family. The young clerk inside collected money from both households, locked the cabinet, and led them straight to the city gate.
The clerk, practiced and familiar, quickly found a short bailiff with a brush‑like mustache. The bailiff waved them over, leading the group to the farthest grass shed.
“Two families, three plus two.”
“Mm, let’s register them under Qing Township, how about that?” The young clerk looked at them. Of course, Xie Ci and Gu Wan had no objections — they planned to move their household registration later anyway. But the other three people discussed among themselves, wanting to get their household registered inside the city.
The clerk said: “First settle the registration. Later you can adjust it.”
Getting into the city couldn’t be done all at once, nor at this price. So the three had no objections. The clerk then copied down the details from the slip of paper he had been given.
Overall, the registration went smoothly, though a small incident occurred midway.
By mid‑afternoon, the sun was blazing. The grass curtains of the sheds had been lowered, making the inside damp and stifling. Gu Wan fanned herself with her collar, stepping back to stand at the doorway where a breeze blew. Suddenly, the doorframe shifted behind her — a squad leader slipped in a piece of paper, greeting the clerk: “Keep an eye out, see if you can earn this three thousand taels.”
In this line of work, of course, everyone had connections. The squad leader not only knew the clerk but joked with him familiarly.
The paper was handed right in front of them, so Xie Ci and Gu Wan saw it clearly: “One man, five women, three boys, two girls — eleven people in one household. Among them: one boy aged twelve, others aged ten and five; two girls aged ten and three; one young man aged fifteen to twenty, of fine appearance; one elderly woman, forty to fifty…”
The squad leader laughed with the clerk: “Quickly check if there’s such a household. Maybe two families together will match! Three thousand taels!”
The clerk asked curiously: “Who’s looking for them? This spoils my business.” He was a bit displeased. Three thousand taels sounded like a lot, but for eleven people it was thirty taels each — they’d earn over three hundred. In this trade, reputation mattered. Unlike the bailiffs, who sat secure and unavoidable, their business depended on trust.
The squad leader leaned in and whispered: “It’s from Prince Tangshan’s manor.”
Xie Ci and Gu Wan, sharp‑eared, exchanged a swift glance. Fortunately, they had already prepared. Later, Gu Wan would change her outfit, go to another establishment in the tavern district to handle matters, then head to the countryside to split the eleven people into separate households, making them appear ordinary and scattered — impossible to piece together.
Gu Wan’s eyes flickered. Unlike Xie Ci, who assumed it was an enemy move and grew grim, the moment she heard “Tangshan’s manor,” her heart leaped. Wasn’t the original heroine Yu Manzhen’s father an official of the Tangshan household?
Sure enough, she then heard the squad leader lower his voice: “The higher‑ups said the key is to find this person…”
From her angle, Gu Wan could clearly see the squad leader’s finger pointing to a spot on the paper: “Female, sixteen years old, willow brows, almond eyes, oval face…”
Gu Wan’s hand, mid‑gesture to brush her bangs aside, froze. She calmly lowered it, lest her thickened brows draw attention. She thought: Damn! This heroine is toxic!
After the clerk finished writing, he asked them: “So, that’s settled?”
Gu Wan immediately nodded: “Yes, thank you for your trouble!”
Miss this chance, and there won’t be another! She didn’t want to end up a black‑listed, undocumented person. If caught, they might cut her ears off or brand her face.
Back in the town, the floodwaters had already receded. After several days of blazing sun, the temperature had shot up. Returning home, Gu Wan collapsed on the bed for a while, then rolled over, opened the cabinet, and packed her clothes and shoes into a small bundle.
To hell with the heroine!
Gu Wan thought it over from every angle. She had never dared to underestimate the power of the state machine. Now the Tangshan manor was involved —and even the young clerk had complained about being unwilling. But what if it went higher than that?
Gu Wan knew Yu Manzhen’s fatal secret, knew the source of her “capital” for survival.
If she weren’t the heroine, Gu Wan wouldn’t care. But precisely because she was — destined to be Empress of the Nan Dynasty, even Mother of the Nation, with influence extending into foreign affairs — Gu Wan had to think more carefully. When those above move their lips, there are plenty of specialists ready to scour you out. As long as money and power are in place, very few things cannot be accomplished. In her past life, Gu Wan had worked in this very line — she knew it all too well!
The small courtyard was narrow under the eaves. Carrying her bundle, Gu Wan dashed out, only to run straight into Xie Ci coming from the main hall. He wore black cloth robes, boots with black soles, his sleeves tightly bound with black gauze. Xie Mingming’s injuries had greatly improved, the Xie family had secured new household registration, and their relocation had been roughly settled. Xie Ci was soon preparing to leave home.
In the afternoon, the slanting sun lit half the courtyard wall. The two stood beneath the shaded corridor, a gentle breeze stirring his loose hair, his sword‑like brows dark and strong.
Gu Wan halted: “I’ve decided. I’ll go with you!”
And when she made this decision, she realized — her heart felt no unhappiness at all.
To hell with running a tavern! She didn’t like selling wine — that was Zhuo Wenjun’s business, wasn’t it? As for that so‑called heroine, sooner or later she’d make her pay!
Gu Wan lifted her head to look at Xie Ci, a sweet smile on her face. Big boss, let me cling to your thigh — will you let me or not?