At noon, Yuan Zhou returned to find Qiu Xinran sitting by the roadside, looking dejected.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting beside her. “I heard you beat Second Prince in archery this morning?”
Hearing this, Qiu Xinran’s slump deepened. If anyone asked her how she felt, it would be simple: regret—deep, crushing regret. She had only intended to tie, yet her competitiveness had gotten the better of her.
“Where did you hear that?” she asked listlessly.
“It spread early this morning. Even His Majesty asked about it…”
Qiu Xinran froze. “What? The Emperor heard?”
“Yes,” Yuan Zhou nodded, then tried to console her. “But don’t worry too much. His Majesty didn’t say anything. And Xia Xiuyan said that Second Prince hit the bullseye alone; you two together also only hit it once. So at most, it’s just a tie.”
Qiu Xinran was surprised that the morning’s chaos had calmed in just a meal. She quickly asked, “Then what did His Majesty say?”
“He seemed to agree,” Yuan Zhou continued, “and even praised Second Prince a little. He also told the princes to hunt in the mountains this afternoon—whoever catches the most will receive a reward tonight.”
Before she could relax, Yuan Zhou added, “But Second Prince asked me to tell you—the competition isn’t over yet. This afternoon, he wants to try again against you.”
Qiu Xinran: “…”
In the afternoon, Emperor Xuande rested in the palace after the morning hunt, and many officials stayed behind.
Qiu Xinran didn’t see Li Hanyi arrive, but Zheng Yuanwu did. He was preparing to ride into the mountains and, seeing her hesitate outside the stables, kindly offered to take her along. Qiu Xinran glanced at Li Hanyu and the others trailing behind and politely declined.
Ultimately, Zhou Xian accompanied her. Poor at horseback archery, honest, and somewhat stammering, Zhou Xian was often overlooked at the academy. Qiu Xinran, also not skilled in riding or archery, rode along with him, and neither minded the other. They drifted through the mountain paths without a word about the hunt.
On the way, Qiu Xinran asked if Li Hanyi had caused trouble for Zhou Xian over the morning’s competition. He shook his head: “Second Prince isn’t a bad person, just… impulsive. But Xinran, you’re amazing! When they talked at the academy about how you shot that bandit, I didn’t quite believe it—today, I do!”
Qiu Xinran was startled. She had never asked about the aftermath of the summer palace incident. This was a chance to ask: “Did they ever find out who did it?”
“I don’t know much,” Zhou Xian said. “The next day, the Yulin Army found three bodies—one in a cave, one in the woods, one at the cliff’s base.”
“At the cliff?”
“That was the Yiyue spy,” Zhou Xian explained. “He was shot and fell down the cliff. By the time the guards found him, his body was mangled. The one in the woods was a Yiyue man, so they figured the bandits targeted Xia Xiuyan. The western border is at war, so maybe they intended to kidnap him as a hostage.”
At the academy, Zhou Xian had few people to talk to, but with Qiu Xinran, he grew more articulate, even fluent when excited: “Because of the Yiyue infiltration, many officials were implicated. The palace guards in charge of security were dismissed. Yulin commander Zhang Yong was accused of colluding with the Yiyue men; his entire family was imprisoned. Soon, Zhang’s residence was searched and secret letters were found. The case dragged on; not long ago, Master Zhang, fearing punishment, committed suicide in prison. Only then was the case closed.”
Qiu Xinran remembered seeing the Yulin commander at the academy—an austere man with a teenage son who had once bumped into her and left without apology. Later, the boy was punished with hours of horse stance practice. Hearing the resolution, she had a better impression of Commander Zhang. Curious, she asked, “What happened to the rest of the Zhang family?”
Zhou Xian sighed. “Men were exiled; women sold as courtesans. I heard some female family members couldn’t bear the humiliation, and Master Zhang hanged himself in prison that same day.”
In Chang’an, beneath prosperity lay countless unmarked graves. Today’s nobles could become tomorrow’s prisoners; a single fall could be irrecoverable.
“Do you think Master Zhang was innocent?”
Zhou Xian shook his head. “I don’t know. I heard he embezzled some reward money and took bribes to make up the difference. He confessed in prison, saying he didn’t know the Yiyue men’s identities and was temporarily deceived. I think he wasn’t the type to do this, but court cases rely on evidence; I shouldn’t speculate.”
Qiu Xinran smiled slightly: “You have a straight character, Xian. If you enter service, perhaps you’ll become an autumn official, speaking for loyal ministers and the people.”
Zhou Xian blushed: “You’re teasing me again.”
Qiu Xinran teased back: “You always say my divinations are accurate—how is this teasing?”
He was surprised: “You’ve divined for me?”
“No—not exactly,” she said, pausing, “but even without divining, I can tell.”
The boy, mounted and seeing her serious gaze, grew excited and stammered: “If I enter service, I’ll—won’t disappoint you!”
Qiu Xinran smiled, but before she could respond, the sound of hurried hooves and alarmed shouts came from the forest—someone was under attack.
They immediately turned their horses and met rushing guards. Zhou Xian stopped them: “What’s happening?”
The guards were tense: “Assassins in the mountains! Xia Xiuyan has been struck by an arrow—get down the mountain quickly to prevent further harm.”
Qiu Xinran exclaimed: “An assassination attempt on Xia Xiuyan?”
The guards had no time for details and rushed back up.
“This…” Zhou Xian was dumbfounded. Qiu Xinran was silent, her expression dark. The ride down was tense; neither spoke, lost in thought.
At the base, Zheng Yuanwu and others were already discussing the attack. The academy students looked solemn; even Li Hanyi didn’t mention the afternoon competition.
Li Hanfeng explained what had happened: he and Xia Xiuyan went hunting together; they encountered a doe in the forest. Li Hanfeng pursued it while Xia Xiuyan stayed behind. Then Li Hanfeng returned to hear Xia Xiuyan had been struck.
“…The arrow’s origin is unknown. Luckily, Xiuyan dodged the vital area and was only hit in the right shoulder. The imperial doctor confirmed the arrow is non-poisonous—he’ll be fine.”
Everyone exhaled. Xia Xiuyan’s academy reputation was middling, but no one wished him harm. With his life safe, discussion turned to the hidden arrow.
Li Hanxing said: “The guard reported it might have been a palace arrow—someone concealed their identity and struck when he was alone.”
Li Hanling asked quickly: “The same group as last time?”
Zheng Yuanwu shook his head: “Last time just happened. Security should have been tight—how could anyone sneak in?”
Li Hanyi cautiously suggested: “Could it be no assassin at all? Maybe someone hunting nearby accidentally struck him?”
Li Hanyi’s remark immediately angered Li Hanyi: “You mean one of us accidentally shot him but won’t admit it?”
Li Hanyi waved his hands: “Not what I meant—Second Brother, how could you think that…”
Voices argued; theories flew. Qiu Xinran, irritated, quietly withdrew to the stables. After a while, Zhou Xian caught up, worried: “Xinran, who do you think tried to harm Xia Xiuyan?”
Qiu Xinran shook her head: “I don’t know.” Seeing the boy so troubled, she comforted him: “Don’t worry—he’ll be fine.”
“How do you know?” Zhou Xian asked curiously.
Qiu Xinran paused, unable to say she was only comforting him. She said vaguely: “I calculated—it’s fate. Xia Xiuyan is protected by fortune.”
“Good,” he breathed, visibly relieved. “If you say so, I feel better.”
Of course, Qiu Xinran had never actually divined for Xia Xiuyan. Fortunately, he truly was fortunate. Having recently returned to the academy, he once again began an indefinite leave of absence. By the year-end exams, Qiu Xinran even suspected he might be avoiding the tests altogether.
During the previous palace attack, Qiu Xinran had never visited him while he recuperated—her low status gave no excuse, and she feared he would remember the prior threat.
But near year-end, Bai Jingming, after finishing his classes, reminded her to tidy her notes for delivery to the princess’s residence: “Astronomy isn’t critical, but students’ diligence and teachers’ guidance are separate matters. In palace work, be meticulous—leave no loopholes for criticism.”
Qiu Xinran nodded and the next day delivered a visiting card to the old princess’s residence.
Academy notes for classics like the Four Books and Five Classics were delivered regularly, but astronomy notes were less essential. She framed the visit as checking on someone’s health while handing over the notes, even bringing a small gift and carefully observing etiquette before setting off for the old princess’s mansion.