Gu Wan fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, but Xie Ci could not. It wasn’t only because of the difficult dilemma they faced.
Blue smoke curled upward as he stood for a long time in the small hall, gazing at the memorial tablets inscribed with “Xie Men, Xinzhong Gong, Zi Xing, Zi Shen, Zi Bian.” Only after a while did he return to the east wing, undress, and lie down. Yet even then, sleep would not come.
Ever since the calamity that befell his family, Xie Ci’s sleep had been poor. Night after night, grief churned in his heart, keeping him awake. Tonight was no different. At last he rose, changed into his inner garments.
Unnoticed, night had fallen. The coolness was like water, the courtyard silent. He drew his long blade; the scabbard dropped to the ground. Gripping the hilt tightly, the blade gleamed white as refined steel — heavy as an abyss, cold as frost.
He practiced close‑quarters knife fighting, then broad sweeping strikes. Finally he cast the blade aside, seized a solid wooden pole leaning against the wall, and trained with it as a spear. With a thrust of his arm, the long shaft shot forward — thud, thud, thud, thud, thud — leaving five deep plum‑blossom marks on the yellow wall!
Strength like a thousand pounds, momentum like a rainbow.
Xie Ci always feared his skills weren’t enough, so he trained relentlessly for more than half a year, never allowing himself to slacken. Now, having entered Suzhou City, his pent‑up frustration felt almost tangible. Every strike of blade and spear poured out through his arms. Hot sweat streamed down his back, soaking his thin inner clothes. Even the cold wind did not chill him. Only when he noticed movement from Gu Wan’s room did he stop, panting.
By then the moon was high overhead. Silver light fell silently across the courtyard. The youth’s breath burned like fire, his gaze filled with hatred.
Gu Wan pretended not to notice. She smiled at him, went to the kitchen, took out the steamed buns from the pot, ate one herself, and tossed the rest to him.
“I’m going to sleep. You should sleep soon too.”
“Mm.”
This wasn’t the first time Xie Ci had trained late at night. Gu Wan understood him, and that was enough. At his age, his stomach was a bottomless pit, so she had prepared a midnight snack for him.
With a creak, the west wing door closed. Soon came the sound of footsteps, then the rustle of lying down and pulling up the quilt.
Xie Ci accepted the cloth bundle, finally setting the long pole down. The night wind was cold, but he was burning hot. Breathing heavily, he slowly lifted his head, surveying this familiar yet unfamiliar place.
The northwest was rugged. The courtyard’s windowsills, brick walls, and roof tiles were all covered in a layer of dust. From here, one could see the city walls. He knew that in this season, standing atop them, the view would be nothing but endless yellow earth. He was a child of the capital, born at the height of the Xie family’s glory. His father often scolded him for being tainted by the capital’s indulgent airs, and so had sent him to the frontier three times. The shortest stay was five or six months; the longest lasted three years.
The first time he came, his father had sternly ordered him to run laps around the drill ground until he was furious and resentful. Pointing at him with a thin bamboo whip, his father had shouted: “As a general! Remember — restrain your anger!”
“Calm yourself. On the battlefield, never let rage cloud your emotions or your mind!”
Xie Ci thought that if it were now, the old man would probably say: “Never let hatred cloud your emotions or your mind!”
After a while, he touched his chest. There had once been a small jade pendant there, shaped like a peach. He had always had a hot temper, often talking back to his father, and he loved peaches. His eldest brother had smiled and hung that cool little peach on his chest, patting his head and saying warmly: “Little Fourth, Little Fourth, whenever you’re angry, just touch this.”
Before he left, his mother had stroked his hair again and again, telling him to take care of himself.
Xie Ci’s chest ached. He thought of it over and over, until the blood that had been surging as if to burst his veins finally calmed.
When he felt steadier, believing he had regained his composure, Xie Ci cleaned the courtyard, poured cool water over himself, and only then carried the cloth bundle and long blade back into the room.
Just before entering the room, his gaze drifted toward the west wing, where the lights were already out. He stood there for a moment, inevitably thinking of Gu Wan.
He and Gu Wan had not been close before, yet now she was the person dearest to him. He remembered how it had begun — his parents’ command, the matchmaker’s words. Red lanterns hung high, half the city filled with joy, the young couple bowing together before the elders. And that wedding day had been the last time he saw his father. He had heard it said that parents, in their love for their children, plan far into the future.
Now, at last, Xie Ci understood it deeply. But it was already too late. His father was gone.
On every lonely night, Xie Ci could not help but feel regret. This wife, chosen by his parents, he had failed to keep because of his own faults. He felt ashamed before his parents, especially his father, now forever beyond reach. And even more ashamed before Gu Wan — because of those reckless words he had once spoken. She had supported him without hesitation, traveling thousands of miles at his side. Remembering those foolish words of his youth now, he felt utterly humiliated.
Closing the door, Gu Wan lay back on the bed. In the courtyard, the rustling sounds made her sigh inwardly. From reading the book, she had only known Xie Ci as the classic figure of “thirty years east of the river, thirty years west — never despise a youth in poverty.” But only by living through it could one truly understand how unimaginable the hardships he was enduring at this moment were. Sigh.
By the time Gu Wan woke early the next morning, dawn light already touched the branches, and the whole of Suzhou City was bathed in the autumn sun.
Gu Wan didn’t know whether Xie Ci had slept at all the previous night, but his face betrayed nothing. Only his expression was heavier than before, more somber. The closer they drew to Suzhou, the darker his mood became. Yet when they were together, he shed the bitterness and rage, leaving only sorrow. They locked the courtyard gate and went out to the street for breakfast.
Gu Wan didn’t ask anything, but Xie Ci spoke first: “Yuan-iang, I’m sorry.”
He lifted his eyes to her. In those frost‑rose eyes was a depth of apology beyond words. He was apologizing for the reckless things he had once said in their bridal chamber. Only after experiencing so much did he truly understand how precious that hand reaching out to him in prison had been.
Gu Wan was surprised, but quickly replied: “It’s fine. Don’t dwell on it.”
The original Gu Wan had never blamed him. Even at the moment of her death, she had not regretted marrying him. It had given her the identity of a Xie family wife, a place to belong.
The vendor brought two steaming bowls of noodles. She broke apart a pair of wooden chopsticks and handed one to him. After eating half a bowl, she thought for a moment and asked: “Xie Ci, what kind of man is your uncle, really?”
Looking to the past as reference, one could judge again — after all, a man pretending could hardly keep up the act for over ten years.
At this, Xie Ci showed a trace of daze. After a long pause, he slowly said: “My uncle… from childhood, he treated us very well.”
“How well?”
“Like half a father.”
According to the laws of the dynasty, frontier generals rotated between the capital and the borders. Before Xie Xinzhong commanded the entire Jing‑Sui defense line as supreme commander of the northern frontier, he and Xun Rongbi alternated — one at the frontier, one in the capital.
When Xie Xinzhong was absent, Xun Rongbi acted as uncle in place of father. Though often exasperated by Xie Ci’s mischief and forced to clean up his messes, he still spoke with earnest weight, teaching Xie Ci many lessons about life. He found martial masters for him, taught him sword and spear, and instructed him on how to win merit on the battlefield. To call him “half a father” showed the depth of his role.
Gu Wan was surprised. She looked at Xie Ci — the youth’s brows and eyes were heavy, as if burdened with countless weights, and her own heart grew heavier.
Gu Wan sighed. No wonder he hadn’t slept last night. But she didn’t linger on the topic. Instead, she thought to herself: “Why don’t we prepare disguises first, and tonight take down two suitable deputy commanders?”
Xun Rongbi’s days were numbered. The ancients understood taboos well — if a proclamation hinted that death was near, then it truly meant within days. Time left for Xie Ci to consider was short. Their preparations had to begin in advance. Whether they would use it or not was another matter.
Gu Wan quickly finished her noodles, tossed down a few coins, and pulled Xie Ci up. “Let’s go!”
Her steps were swift as the wind. Dragging Xie Ci along, she rushed straight to the north‑south avenue. First, they took advantage of the morning market to survey the outer defenses of the Governor’s Mansion. When the crowds thinned at noon, they wandered the marketplace to purchase the powders and items Gu Wan needed for disguise.
Afterward, the two returned directly to their small courtyard.
By then, a whole day had passed. Dusk gathered. Gu Wan tilted her head to listen — faint sounds of music and laughter drifted from next door, along with the subtle fragrance of cosmetics. She whispered: “Let’s go over.” …
So‑called *deputy soldiers* were a kind of unofficial military unit, mainly handling logistical support. In wartime, even civilian grain carriers counted as deputy soldiers.
The Governor’s Mansion also had deputy soldiers, tasked with assisting the guard troops, filling in for absentees, and serving as reserve manpower. Their barracks lay in the back alley of the mansion, and they carried waist tokens that allowed them to enter and exit the outer grounds.
Usually, these positions were given to the families of fallen officers who were unfit to serve again — a cushy, idle post. But each household head also tended to slip in their own relatives.
On the way, Gu Wan and Xie Ci had already discussed how they might infiltrate the Governor’s Mansion or the army.
Xie Ci, deeply familiar with military structure, immediately suggested the deputy soldiers. As long as they got through the Governor’s Mansion gates, he would know what to do.
“No matter whether we go in or not, let’s first open up this channel!”
The Governor’s Mansion was heavily guarded — Gu Wan had already observed it from afar. In an urgent situation, it was fortunate that Xie Ci knew of this loophole to exploit; otherwise, it would have been truly troublesome. Time for Xie Ci to decide was running short, but Gu Wan did not press him. Standing by the wall, she ate two buns to fill her stomach. Then, bracing herself against the wall, she pulled Xie Ci up and together they climbed over into the neighboring courtyard. This small courtyard had been rented deliberately. Next door was a high‑class brothel.
Several large residences had been connected together, built into pavilions and bridges like those of Jiangnan’s water towns. Red gauze lanterns glowed, winding corridors curved like rivers. Women dressed as respectable wives or maidens played the part — some admiring flowers, some plucking zithers, some painting — all arranged to look like domestic life. Patrons wandered through the mansions, able to approach whichever they fancied. Of course, those uninterested in cultured pretense could be direct. This was Suzhou, a frontier garrison town, and many soldiers lacked patience for refinement.
Ordinarily, military discipline forbade soldiers from visiting brothels — but deputy soldiers were not included in that rule.
Once inside, however, Xie Ci hesitated. The plan was sound, but the actual act of seizing someone was difficult. Apart from the private rooms, the winding corridors were too exposed to make a move.
Gu Wan laughed softly. “Leave it to me!” She darted into a waterside pavilion, with Xie Ci standing guard.
Inside, Gu Wan busied herself with her face and clothes. Hearing the rustle of fabric, Xie Ci was struck by a sudden flash of memory — that moment in prison when she had tended his wounds, stripping him bare, even of his underclothes.
Even though Xie Ci’s mood was heavy, at that moment his whole body felt aflame, blood surging straight to his head. It took all his strength not to reach down and cover himself. “Are you done? Someone’s coming!”
It was their target — several deputy soldiers, helmets tucked under one arm, laughing as they walked through the moon gate, heading right down this corridor.
Gu Wan, leaning over Xie Ci’s back to peek, exclaimed: “Damn, only one left!” She yanked Xie Ci aside, spun, and darted out.
Only then did Xie Ci see her clearly: dressed in a red gauze half‑sleeve skirt, sheer fabric draped over her pale collarbones, hair coiled in a side bun, wine‑red makeup bright and alluring, a red rose between her lips. At first glance, she was so seductive she seemed like an entirely different person.
Xie Ci was stunned. But Gu Wan still needed him as a prop. She wrapped one arm around his waist, and he froze instantly.
The young deputy soldier — barely twenty, soft‑skinned, clearly placed in the unit through connections — glanced their way and was struck dumb. His bored expression vanished. Shoving aside the courtesan beside him, he barked: “You, go!”
He rushed forward, only to be caught by Gu Wan, who pulled him smoothly into a room. The courtesan spat, twisted her waist, and went off to find another client.
Gu Wan, revealed in her dazzling guise, had already pushed the youth inside and shut the door. In the dark chamber, he realized something was wrong and struggled violently. But Xie Ci and Gu Wan pinned him tightly, front and back. Gu Wan quickly pulled out a drugged handkerchief, pressed it over his mouth and nose for about a minute, and laid him down unconscious — unharmed, but completely subdued.
Xie Ci released his grip, slowly laying the man down on the floor.
From the adjoining hall came faint sounds of passion — the true business of this waterside pavilion. Moonlight streamed into the narrow dressing room, where the young deputy soldier lay silently.
Xie Ci stared coldly at the familiar yet alien Suzhou military uniform on his body, and at last a hatred cut to the bone showed on his face. He had always forced himself to remain calm. Even though Gu Wan knew his emotions were troubled, he had suppressed them, never letting them show before her.
But now, hearing Gu Wan sigh softly and feeling her hand rest on his shoulder, he lifted his head. He struggled to contain the violent surge within him, his star‑bright eyes rimmed with blood.
Gu Wan’s almond eyes were still painted with vivid red makeup, peony ornaments blooming at the corners, but her gaze was clear and pure.
“I want to tell you — even if I had died at Tiekan Temple, I would not have regretted it.”
“Because the Xie family is the finest, finest household in this world. Green hills are honored to bury loyal bones; every son of Tanlang is a true man.”
She spoke aloud the heartfelt truth of the original Gu Wan. Not for love, but for a pure and fervent reverence. In this world, even if they died, even if they carried false charges to the grave, there would always be people who remembered them. Not everyone would be deceived.
She said softly: “For thirty years they guarded the nation and the dynasty. There will be people who remember them!”
In that instant—It was as if something struck him — a suffocating ache seized his chest. Xie Ci fell to his knees, struggling to hold back, covering his face with his hands, yet tears poured down like rain. He wept uncontrollably.
At last, Xie Ci cried. His trembling body gave off a hoarse sob. But after the tears, he quickly rose to his feet. “Yuan-niang, I’ve decided. I will enter the Governor’s Mansion.”
His voice was rough, but his gaze was unwavering. “I must see — is it him, or not?!”
Xie Ci’s caution remained, but he truly longed to know: had the uncle who had been like half a father all his life really schemed to destroy the Xie family?
Were those years of kindness, those journeys across thousands of miles to visit Madam Xun, that broad, steadfast figure of brotherly affection — were they genuine, or false?
Most crucial of all, Suzhou was the place he had lived for three years. Not only was he most familiar with it, it was also the origin of the *Lantian Treason Case*. If he could not break through here, it would be even harder elsewhere. Since he had come, he would not fear death. Even if the Governor’s Mansion was a dragon’s pool and tiger’s den, today he must break through!
In the dim dressing room, moonlight silent, rippling water reflected across his nose and cheekbones. His eyes were still bloodshot, but his gaze and bearing had become resolute. Like a bowstring drawn taut, he had returned to its rightful tension. Tense, but not beyond endurance.
After Xie Ci finished speaking, Gu Wan immediately replied: “Good!”
These past few days, she had watched him grow more and more strained, turning those paper slips over and over, emotions pressed down so hard it was dangerous. That couldn’t go on — sooner or later it would break him.
Often, people aren’t crushed by others, but by themselves.
Seeing him finally step out of that taut state, Gu Wan smiled. Her timing had been right after all. She was genuinely glad for him. His choice aligned with her own. She took out a delicate clasp — a silver spherical pendant. From his pouch she drew two paper slips, folded them into stars, placed them inside, and closed it. “Wear it. Stop looking at them — you’ve worn them out.”
Xie Ci nodded firmly.
Gu Wan continued: “If he proves to be good, then we’ll save him — neither betraying him nor ourselves. If not, then there’s nothing to regret.”
The path ahead was always bound to be narrow and perilous. For one person — or even two — to overturn a decisive national case was never going to be easy.
Finally, she fastened the necklace around his neck. “Your father and brothers will bless us!”
She spoke with a smile. Moonlight and water shimmered together, her brows and eyes serene and clear as flowing water. In that moment, she seemed both a guiding teacher and a close companion, her smile softening her tone into gentle counsel. Like a river murmuring under the moon, calm and steady, natural and profound.
Xie Ci grasped the silver pendant at his neck. Looking at her faint smile, he suddenly felt his blood surge, heat rushing from every limb into his chest. He nodded heavily. “Mm!”
Clutching the blade in his hand, he declared: “If he deceives me, I will kill him!!”
His heart surged with emotion. Unable to help himself, he pulled Gu Wan into a strong embrace. Some words were not meant to be repeated again and again — but still, thank you. Truly.
Xie Ci restrained himself, not daring to hold her too tightly, his fists clenched hard instead.
Gu Wan smiled and patted his back. Boy— rise up!