e crowd spilled out of the drill ground like a receding tide.
Wind rushed through the banners, carrying away the shouts, the applause, the anger, and the pity, leaving behind only footprints and drifting dust.
Bihua stood unmoving amidst the surging throng, like a lone rock weathering storm and flood. Her hand still clutched Layne's sleeve. The boy, his eyes rimmed red, kept his head bowed, unable to see his mother's expression.
She did not move. She stood for a long while, until nearly all had dispersed, before swaying slightly as if to leave.
At that moment, a youth in a dark-blue short robe appeared soundlessly before them. He looked fifteen or sixteen, features fine yet carrying a trace of maturity, hair bound neatly, gaze clear and cold. He bowed and spoke—quiet, yet each word carried plainly:
"The Lord of the City requests your presence."
Bihua's heart tightened. She straightened.
"Us?"
The youth nodded. "Yes. Please, both of you follow me. Lord Xuanhu is already waiting."
"Xuanhu?"
The youth said no more, simply turned and led the way. After a moment's hesitation, Bihua took Layne's hand and followed slowly.
They left the drill ground and headed westward, past the main street of the county court into Qingzhou's western quarter. Here, the roads were broader, the houses more orderly, yet the passersby fewer. Ahead loomed a solemn residence, its gates not far from the towering western city wall known as Shangwu Gate.
A plaque hung above, three characters carved boldly in seal script: "Qingzhou Prefecture."
This was the residence of the Lord of Qingzhou—the "Xuanhu Manor." To common folk it was not mysterious, nor forbidden ground, but the guards before its gates stood in stern array, keeping most from entering.
The youth raised a hand. The gates creaked open.
Behind them stretched a bamboo grove, leaves lush and dripping green, the wind whispering through like silken threads. Beyond lay a stone bridge over still waters, the surface a mirror reflecting sky and birds.
This was no seat of judiciary power like the county court.
This was where the kingdom's true authority resided.
A subtle pressure filled the air. Bihua frowned slightly, glancing back at Layne—yet the boy seemed oddly calm, following in silence.
Across the bridge, a structure rose suddenly into view—not a household mansion, but something between temple and palace. Its eaves stretched sharp toward the heavens, roof tiles black as ink. Enormous stone pillars carved with bestial totems guarded the gate, jeweled eyes glinting as if mist stirred within. The doors stood ajar, a thin line of light spilling out.
Layne tilted his head, as if hearing a voice, though none reached his ears.
Silent attendants in dark-blue robes lined either side, watching without a word. The youth gestured: "The Lord awaits within."
Bihua whispered: "Layne, do not be afraid."
The boy answered softly, "I'm not, Mother."
They stepped through. The doors shut behind them, like a page turned—into light, or into storm, none could say.
Inside, the hall lay dim. Dark-green curtains hung from the ceiling, sunlight slanting through a window to strike a jade-inlaid stone slab at the center, gleaming like a hidden spring.
Bihua's pace slowed. Her gaze swept the hall—and wonder pricked her heart.
Weapons of strange make lined the walls, some rusted, some still gleaming cold. Stone statues flanked the chamber—beasts with human forms, wings unfurled; figures straining in struggle, spears raised to heaven.
A full suit of silver-white armor hung in a niche, engraved with intricate runes. In its chestplate glowed a dark-red gem, pulsing faintly with heat.
This was not a place ordinary folk could even imagine.
And at its center—him.
He looked past forty, tall and broad-shouldered, his frame like a mountain. Over a black war-robe he wore soft mail laced with gold thread, a long saber at his waist. The scabbard's shape was strange, yet it could not hide the blade's menace.
His brows were thick, his eyes deep and steady, nose high, cheeks lean. He bore the stillness of a general and the edge of a knight. His mere stance pressed down like the weight of a mountain.
His gaze held no emotion, yet it was enough to still the breath in one's chest.
Bihua instinctively moved to bow, but he spoke first, voice low and gravel-deep:
"No need for courtesy. I summoned you only to speak a few words."
She halted, lifted her head.
Xuanhu stepped forward, robe whispering.
"The case of Laisu—those above know far more than you imagine. Including how he paid five hundred silver to redeem you, left office for trade, found comrades after the scandal, and how the madam of the Fragrant Shadows could testify to it all."
He paused, eyes flicking to Layne.
"Because you two were never formally wed, no household registry recorded you. That is the only reason you remain untouched. Did you think it was because you hid well? No. It was simply irrelevant to the case."
Bihua bit her lip, silent. So foolish—she had thought her quiet life hidden enough, unnoticed enough. In truth, it had only ever been because no one needed to care.
"Now his guilt is sealed. Three days hence, he will be executed at Zhengyang Gate. The rice shop, the house, the storehouses—all confiscated. I summon you only to say this: do not think he left you nothing. He foresaw this day, and left you a path."
Xuanhu turned away. "You may go—"
But before he finished, something struck his leg hard.
"Layne!" Bihua gasped.
The boy had lunged like a little beast, teeth sinking into the lord's leg.
"You bastard! Give me back my father!" he cried, jaw clenched with all the stubbornness of a starving hound.
Bihua rushed forward, dragging at her son, but he clung fast. "Layne, stop! Let go of the Lord!"
Guards burst in at the commotion, yet Xuanhu only waved them off. They withdrew, leaving the doors closed once more.
The lord looked down, lips twitching faintly. With one massive hand, he grasped the boy by the nape. Layne's jaw went numb; his bite broke, and he dangled helplessly, eyes glaring, limbs flailing. Xuanhu lifted him with ease, then placed him back into his mother's arms.
"Go. Tomorrow afternoon, return to the county court. Give this token to the guards, and you will be allowed to see Laisu. As for your son—worry not. Within a cup of tea's time, he will be fine."
From his sleeve he drew a small jade-green token and handed it to her alongside the child. It was heavy, carved with the character Hu, faint white light swirling around its edges.
Bihua, cradling Layne, accepted it. She looked from the token, to her son still whimpering with drool at his lips, and finally to the man before her. She bit her lip hard.
"Bihua thanks you, my lord."