The fiery clouds at the horizon seemed to set the entire sky ablaze.
Clutching the small note pressed into their palms, Xie Ci and Gu Wan exchanged a glance, both uneasy.
Gu Wan worried that such bold, teasing words might mislead the younger ones, while Xie Ci fretted over nonsense like “If the girl is a year older, she brings golden fortune” or “Same‑aged wife, everything harmonious.”
They hurriedly unfolded the notes — fortunately, both were perfectly proper.
“Little Fourth is a stubborn child, prone to getting stuck in his own thoughts. Yuan‑niang, you must comfort him often, guide him more. No amount of hatred or grudges is worth more than people themselves.”
“Don’t force yourself too much. Do your best, and as long as your heart is clear, that is enough.”
Unlike Second Sister‑in‑law’s usual brisk and forceful manner, these lines were written in delicate, flowing small script, graceful as a stream of water. It was as if under a dim lamp, she had whispered her careful instructions.
Both of them breathed a sigh of relief.
Xie Ci picked up the bamboo pole, pushed off from the bank, and the small boat rocked gently with the current, drifting toward the river’s heart. He glanced at Gu Wan and explained cautiously: “Second Sister‑in‑law just likes to tease me. Don’t pay her any mind.”
The autumn sun carried a faint chill, the river wind sweeping across the water. Xie Ci’s robes fluttered in the gusts. Strange as it might sound, Gu Wan had become something like a pillar to him. In despair, she was a glimmer of light. He would never forget those hands shaking him awake in prison fever, splitting open the haze in his mind. He had stumbled and faltered, but under her support, he escaped death. In the howling snow, when he nearly gave up, it was only because someone was beside him that he clenched his teeth and endured.
He didn’t know whether to blame Second Sister‑in‑law. Ever since she had spoken those words, his interactions with Gu Wan were no longer as natural as before. There was a faint sense of loss. Sometimes a thought flickered — if only he had known her better earlier, played with her, not spoken those foolish words on their wedding night… then, perhaps…
Xie Ci was inexperienced in matters of love, but he was not a fool. He had seen enough to understand what Second Sister‑in‑law meant.
But there are no “ifs.” She did not like him. Making such jokes made him feel as if their bond was being tainted.
“Sorry.”
Gu Wan stood at the bow of the boat, and he looked up at her slightly. The golden‑red glow of the sunset wrapped her in a halo.
On this journey, Xie Ci was not without unease. He did not fear death itself — what he feared was exhausting his strength, dying, yet still failing to fulfill his vow of clearing injustice and avenging wrongs.
But with Gu Wan at his side, he felt much steadier. He whispered: “Don’t mind Second Sister‑in‑law’s nonsense.”
Fortunately, Gu Wan didn’t care. She was surprised: “Why apologize? What’s wrong with that?”
The wind carried her voice, bright and clear, as she laughed, lifting the loose strands of hair blown wild by the breeze.
Xie Ci’s heart grew lighter too. He answered: “Mm!”
After poling the boat for a while, Xie Ci suddenly remembered something:
“Once this matter is settled, I’ll go fetch your mother and younger brother. No — better yet, I’ll write a letter to Second Sister‑in‑law right away. When the family is stable and has the means, we can hire an escort bureau to bring them from the capital.”
As he spoke, he realized that waiting too long was risky, with the future uncertain. Writing to Second Sister‑in‑law seemed the safest plan.
Gu Wan: “…”
Damn — if Xie Ci hadn’t mentioned it, she would have almost forgotten.
The original host had few relatives, but her mother was still alive, and she had a half‑brother. After seeking refuge with the Duke’s household, she met her first love again, courted for a while, and decided to remarry. The original host refused to follow, choosing to remain with the Xie family.
As for why her mother hadn’t helped when she was imprisoned — it was because her stepfather was a scoundrel. When the Duke’s household fell into trouble, he divorced her mother and drove both mother and son out.
Two scumbags in a row. Madam Xun had even advised against marrying the second one, but her mother had insisted.
Gu Wan didn’t know what to say. She had heard this sordid tale when inquiring about the Xie family. Mother and son were now living in a small cottage on the outskirts — fallen from grace, but at least with food and shelter.
She scratched her head: “Fine, write then. But no rush — make sure you tell Second Sister‑in‑law that even three to five years later is fine. If nothing urgent, better to wait until I return. Safety first.”
Thinking of her love‑struck mother, Gu Wan was speechless. But ignoring it entirely didn’t feel right either. After some thought, she added.
Xie Ci noted it all carefully, then said earnestly to Gu Wan: “I’ll take good care of them. Just like with Sister‑in‑law and Daming.”
Gu Wan sighed: “Alright. Thank you.”
Xie Ci pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No need to thank me.”
Compared to what you’ve done for me and for the Xie family, this is nothing at all.
…
The river wind blew cold, pushing the small boat toward the passenger ship anchored mid‑stream.
From the ship, a hook rope was tossed down, clattering as it caught the bow of the little boat. Then a rope ladder was lowered.
Xie Ci and Gu Wan were among the last to board. As soon as they climbed up, the shipmaster shouted: “Prepare to set sail!”
The bamboo rafts and small boats were linked together, swaying as they were pulled toward the shore. Anchors lifted, sails unfurled.
The crimson of sunset mingled with the dark of dusk. The ship’s hull cut through the shimmering waves, heading south.
The evening boat carried Xie Ci and Gu Wan downstream. By daylight tomorrow, it would turn west; after several days on the river, they would switch to land and travel straight northwest.
Darkness had already fallen. The figures on the dock soon shrank into tiny black dots, swallowed by the twilight. Only the sound of wind rustling through willow leaves and the murmur of flowing water remained.
As the ship moved, the noise of farewells and the warmth of the small boat faded away. The river wind chilled their bodies. Xie Ci and Gu Wan gazed into the distance, but the little pier quickly vanished from sight.
On deck, people drifted away in twos and threes. The main cabin bustled with noise, but the aft deck was quiet. Xie Ci still held that small note in his hand.
Second Sister‑in‑law’s earnest words — all about him.
Only a trace of red lingered on the horizon, casting light across their cheekbones. Xie Ci read the note again and again, then finally said: “But I will disappoint Second Sister‑in‑law and Mother.”
His voice, once injured, was hoarse — now more than ever. It was like the bow of a cello drawn across the strings, carrying the tone of a mournful song.
“This journey — I am going to clear my father and brothers’ names, to avenge them.” Xie Ci’s tall, lean figure stood against the light, his silhouette dark.
In the blink of an eye, it was late autumn again. He had grown much taller; he was nearly seventeen now. His sleeves were bound tightly, a long, slender blade at his waist. As he spoke, the traces of gentleness in his brows vanished, replaced by a bone‑deep hatred. Other than Gu Wan, no one knew his true intentions.
The voices and smiles of his father and brothers were vivid in his memory, yet they had ended in dismemberment and the scorn of the masses.
“I will uncover the truth.”
“I hope to overturn the case for my father and brothers.”
“If I cannot — then I will kill them all!”
If someone framed them, he would kill the framers. If treacherous men held power, he would kill the traitors — whether in the army or at court.
The destruction of his family, the slaughter of his kin — vengeance was irreconcilable!
Xie Ci turned back, the evening wind stirring his long hair. Word by word, he declared: “I will make them pay in blood!!”
At home, he had concealed half of this. Otherwise, neither his mother nor his sisters‑in‑law would ever have allowed him to leave. But he would rather die than live in disgrace.
Gu Wan understood him. Before setting out, he had already confided in her, so she was not surprised. “You will succeed!”
“One person’s plan is short; two people’s plan is long. Together we’ll work at it — maybe we’ll uncover the truth sooner than you think.”
“Mm.”
Gu Wan’s tone was light, almost cheerful, as if it were not such a difficult task. The taut string in Xie Ci’s chest loosened a little. He lowered his head, glanced at the small note in his hand, then carefully folded it and tucked it into his inner pocket.
The two turned and quickly climbed the narrow gangway to the second‑floor cabin.
The ticket included meals, and boys carried food up to distribute room by room. Though they had already eaten, after the days of hunger they had endured, neither wasted anything — they sat down to another simple meal of coarse tea and plain rice.
When the cabin door was shut, Gu Wan pushed open the window to check outside. Seeing nothing unusual, she asked Xie Ci: “If we’re going west, then where exactly are we going?”
Going west had to mean a specific destination.
In other words, from what place did Xie Ci intend to begin his investigation? What target or clue did he have?
At this, Xie Ci paused. He set down his chopsticks. After a long silence, he said: “Suzhou.”
The last rays of dusk had faded, the dark red gone. His eyes were as deep and unfathomable as the heavy twilight. Slowly he spoke: “Back then, twelve generals all accused my father and brothers of treason. Six of them were my father’s closest subordinates.” His voice was hoarse.
Otherwise, the evidence would not have seemed so ‘conclusive’ so quickly. Even the doubtful among the common folk believed it at once. The Xie family was nailed to the pillar of shame. The more glorious their reputation for loyalty had been, the harsher the curses and spitting they received.
But Xie Ci knew with absolute certainty — his father and brothers could never have betrayed the nation!!
With a crack, the wooden chopsticks in his hand snapped in two.
Barely twenty words, yet even though Gu Wan had prepared herself, the revelation was still shocking. She was silent for a long while, then said:
“Alright. Then we’ll go to Suzhou.”
Among those twelve generals, six were his father’s closest confidants — and one of them was Xie Ci’s own maternal uncle, Governor of Suzhou, Xun Qingbi.
Xie Ci had never told Madam Xun about this, so as not to break her heart. He bore it all alone.
Xie Ci touched the small note tucked in his inner pocket, took it out, and read it again and again, only then feeling a little better.
That night the two rested. At dawn the next day, the passenger ship had already reached Binzhou. Turning northwest, they arrived at Qinzhou, where they switched from river to land and headed straight toward Suzhou. It was worth noting that they encountered Li Yi. At the Qinzhou pier, he was waiting for them deliberately.
Xie Ci spotted him first and frowned. The man descended from the second floor of a tavern, horsewhip in hand: “Xie Ci, you and I are fellow sufferers. How about I help you?”
Seeing Li Yi again, he was no longer traveling in secret. Two attendants led relay horses from the post station, though Yu Manzhen was not present.
Li Yi truly admired Xie Ci — not for anything else, but for the man himself. His desire to bring him back under his command was stronger than ever. So he had sent a double ahead with the team, while he himself waited here on this crucial route for more than half a month.
Gu Wan glanced at Li Yi, then lifted her gaze upward. Sure enough, in the tavern’s second‑floor window, a pair of shadowed eyes met hers. She snorted inwardly.
Xie Ci looked Li Yi up and down, wary and guarded, and coldly refused:
“No need.” With that, he pulled Gu Wan onto a horse. The two cracked their whips and quickly left the Qinzhou pier.
The sound of hooves clattered away. “Master?”
Li Yi raised his hand to stop them. “Let them go.” Rushing would do no good. He smiled faintly: “Sooner or later, he’ll realize he needs me.”
Yu Manzhen hurried down, her gaze fixed for a moment on Gu Wan’s departing figure. When Li Yi looked over, she quickly lowered her eyes.
“Mount up.”
The wind swept across their faces. Li Yi adjusted his sleeves, then vaulted onto his horse in one smooth motion. He was not disappointed — that tall, shadowed youth stared straight ahead.
For now, Li Yi would focus on the matters at hand.
Gu Wan glanced back. Hooves churned up dust as the four riders headed west. Only then did Xie Ci slowly pull on the reins. “We’ll go that way.”
Though the man seemed not to have betrayed them, and Xie Ci’s secret prison break had clearly left traces, Li Yi must have guessed his resentment. Once those two children recovered, they would surely head northwest — so Li Yi had waited at this crucial crossroads.
But his appearance still heightened Xie Ci’s vigilance. He said coldly: “These people appearing out of nowhere, pointing toward the Xie family — their intentions are sinister.”
Gu Wan had no objection. So the two detoured widely, first to Mingzhou. After staying a few days, they set out again toward Suzhou.
After repeatedly confirming that no one was following them, Xie Ci’s tightly furrowed brows finally eased a little. By the time the two reached Suzhou, it was already late autumn. It was noon, the autumn sun blazing, though the wind carried a chill. Endless yellow grasses stretched across the vast wilderness, reaching all the way to the horizon.
The scenery of the northwest was rugged; even the post roads seemed rougher. Following at the rear of an escort caravan, the two finally caught sight of Suzhou City in the distance. Its brown‑yellow walls rose from the earth, arrow towers looming in majestic strength. As a frontier stronghold, its defenses were strict. Even from afar, the first barricade was already set up for inspection. The head of the escort bureau, well‑versed in procedure, led the convoy forward, placing them at the very end of the line.
Xie Ci rode on horseback, while Gu Wan sat at the back of the cart. Slowly, Xie Ci said: “That day, the man holding the white silk — I recognized him. He was one of the close guards of my second cousin, Xun Xun.” He was speaking of the attempted murder at Tiekan Temple when he was ill.
It was a very inconspicuous man. A general’s personal guards numbered only a few dozen. Xie Ci was not familiar with Xun Xun, much less his guards. But one year, during New Year, Xun Xun had accompanied his elder brother to the capital to report for duty in place of their father, and they had visited the Duke’s household. Xie Ci had seen this man then.
Just a fleeting glimpse of a minor attendant — most would not believe it if told. Yet Xie Ci remembered him clearly.
At midday, under the blazing autumn sun, Xie Ci wore a bamboo hat. From Gu Wan’s angle, his face was shadowed beneath the brim, but faintly she could see his eyes. Around the dark pupils was a subtle pattern, hinting at the shadow of double pupils. It was strikingly beautiful, carrying a mysterious allure like roses blooming at night.
Gu Wan knew it was true — Xie Ci was gifted beyond measure. Among his talents was an extraordinary sense of smell. In the book, he was remarkable: even when his eyes were injured, he relied solely on scent to remember the smell of an assassin lying in wait. Years later, that single clue allowed him to reconstruct the truth.
This Xun Xun was one of the major villains, a high‑ranking official. Later, Xie Ci killed him with a single sword.
Xie Ci defended the dynasty and saved the people, but he was no gentle saint. His hatred was carved into his bones. When the dynasty collapsed, it marked the beginning of his vengeance.
Gu Wan whispered: “We must be careful. Suzhou is the Xun family’s territory.”
Xie Ci’s dark, glass‑like eyes reflected the red tassel of the long blade at his side. A faint red rim glowed at the edge of his pupils. His voice was hoarse: “I know.”
Ahead, the escort leader waved, and Xie Ci rode forward with several guards to help.
The dry, cold wind lifted strands of Gu Wan’s hair. Leaning against the cart’s railing, she set the long sword upright at the back and gently turned its hilt. It was the sword Second Sister‑in‑law had given her.
She loved this blade — polished spotless, its hilt and scabbard gleaming, reflecting the vast blue sky. The golden sun shimmered above. She lifted her head; the sunlight was dazzling, but the unpolluted sky stretched boundlessly, the line between heaven and earth clearly visible.
Though this journey was dangerous, she did not feel much fear. Instead, she was eager, even excited, sensing its great meaning, even without Yu Manzhen.
Would this count as upholding loyalty and righteousness? Ah, this damned sense of justice!
She laughed at herself for a moment, then suddenly recalled someone once saying to her: “You — you may have left, but your heart is still there.”
Thinking of that faintly smiling person, Gu Wan’s own smile faded. After a moment of wistfulness, she exhaled, fastened the long sword back at her waist, and quickly jumped down from the cart to follow Xie Ci forward.
Together they untied the ropes binding the escort wagons, opened the chests, and let the soldiers behind the barricade inspect them one by one. Afterward, they were allowed to pass.
Xie Ci and Gu Wan’s current identities were temporary escorts. They weren’t short of money now, but it served as a cover. After three stops and inspections, passing through three checkpoints, the two finally entered Suzhou City.
Gu Wan had earlier reminded Xie Ci to be cautious — judging from Xun Xun, the Xun father and sons were no simple figures. Especially his uncle, Xun Rongbi. How formidable he truly was remained unknown, but the fact that he had ordered his son to strike at Xie Ci proved he was cruel. Now, with the enemy strong and themselves weak, caution was essential. Yet as they entered Suzhou, they quickly heard unbelievable news.
Xie Ci was stunned: “You’re saying Governor Xun Rongbi has been gravely ill since last June? And the eldest son of the Xun family is dead?!”
The waiter, stacking bowls and chopsticks, replied: “Yes, Suzhou has only one Governor Xun. Since last June, when the eldest son died of illness, the governor was so shocked by the news that he fell from his horse and was injured. Grief then brought on serious illness. They say he’s not well and has been recuperating ever since. For all this time, Suzhou’s military and civil affairs have been managed by the second son.”
Gu Wan gasped, dropping the jar of pickles she was holding: “Is that for real?”
The waiter grew impatient: “Why would I lie to you? Such a major event — when Governor Xun fell from his horse, it was on the road returning from the military camp to the governor’s mansion. Many witnessed it. And whether at the funeral or the burial of the eldest son, countless people saw it. Ask around and you’ll easily find eyewitnesses.”
Gu Wan quickly looked at Xie Ci.
The corridor wind stirred the dark blue drapes. A loose strand of hair slipped from beneath Xie Ci’s bamboo hat, swaying faintly in the breeze. He slowly raised his head. In his cold, ink‑dark eyes was the reflection of Gu Wan’s incredulous gaze.
Ever since approaching Suzhou City, Xie Ci’s brows had been tightly drawn. Now, in an instant, they knit even closer.