After supper, drizzle veiled Willow Lane. Droplets fell from the eaves, slanting onto the courtyard's blue-brick tiles.
The lamp in the small house was still burning. Inside, the faint rustle of pages and brushstrokes on paper drifted out.
Qingshui sat on the edge of the bed, legs swinging idly. Only after much cajoling had Bihua agreed to bring her back for dinner, and even then she had worn a stiff face all through the meal.
The door opened. Bihua stepped in, saying nothing, simply standing in the doorway, staring at her.
"Well, well." Qingshui looked up, grin tugging her lips. "Just in time. I was about to brew tea—you keep me company—"
"I'll ask once more." Bihua's steps carried her across the floor. "Who are you?"
Her tone was a drawn blade, still sheathed, but cold light already flashing.
Qingshui only arched a brow, as if she had expected this. She slowly folded her smile away, rose, and drew from her sleeve a token. She set it down on the table with a sharp clack.
In the lamplight, the characters Qingzhou gleamed bright.
"Today's officer said this belonged to Xuanhu's office. Not low in rank," Bihua said, her eyes narrowing.
"Stolen." Qingshui met her gaze without flinching. For once, she was not lying—she really had filched it.
She wagged the teapot like a cat toying with stolen fish. "Remember that day? The man convulsing in the street? You two were in the crowd. That day I lured a tail out, gave him a scare. A few days later I saw him sneaking about again, so I lifted his token. He'll be dying of shame now."
She winked. "That's all. Not mine."
Bihua did not smile.
"Qingshui, if you are not an ordinary wanderer, stop pretending. You've set your heart on us mother and son—what is it you want?"
At last, Qingshui's grin faded. She set the pot down, rested her fingers on the table's edge, and looked at Bihua steadily.
"What do I want? I truly haven't thought about it."
Her voice dropped. "But I can tell you this—I've no intent to harm you. In fact, being near you, I've discovered more than one faction sniffing about.
"That attendant wasn't watching you for the first day. He knows your routes, your errands, your purchases. I kept it from you only to confirm whose man he was.
"And the answer? Disappointing. Xuanhu's tricks—no more than that."
Bihua's eyes shifted. "And you? Which side are you from?"
Qingshui shrugged. "That, I can't tell you.
"But to me, you two aren't people who should be dragged into this."
Then she broke into a crooked smile again.
"Maybe I'm no saint, but at least I'm being honest this time, right?"
Outside, the wind stirred.
—
Qingzhou City · Xuanhu's manor · midnight.
A man in gray knelt on the floor, sweat dripping onto black tiles.
"…Your servant failed. The woman not only tracked my movements completely, but lifted my identification token…"
Xuanhu sat in silence, tea cup long gone cold.
"She said anything?"
"Nothing. After the epidemic officer returned the token, she pocketed it boldly—never gave it back…"
Crash!
Porcelain shattered, tea splashing like struck water, anger spilling everywhere.
"You mean—she stole your token, then brandished it as if she were my agent?"
"Yes, Lord. She… didn't seem afraid of exposure."
Xuanhu's brow knotted. Then, to his subordinate's horror, he laughed low.
"Interesting. Under the Water Yao Envoy, is it? Code-name Li, or Qingshui? And daring enough to provoke me."
His fingers tapped the desk, one by one.
"She flaunts Qingzhou's seal now only to draw eyes here—to make others think I've stepped into Muyun. To shift the board."
He rose, pacing, hands clasped behind him.
"If it's the Yao Envoy's will, then perhaps we are rivals. If it's her own move… then things may grow amusing. The Seven Yao Envoys are not of one mind."
"Summon the other six attendants. All of them, into Muyun. And this time—be clever. Don't shame me again."
"Yes, Lord."
"And take two spare tokens this time."
The gray-clad man winced. "Your servant swears—truly, I never peeked at her bathing—"
"Out!"
Thunder seemed to roll through the hall. Shadows stirred, currents shifted once more.
—
Outside Sanghe Village. Night.
Dark clouds pressed low. No soul about. Only a solitary figure before the warding tower.
His robe was worn blue, hair and beard white, yet the power coiled in him was like rivers and mountains breathing.
—The Kingdom's Four Direction Guardian, Pillar Envoy Qiyuan.
He crouched, fingers brushing the stone base. Pale-gold light rippled out like water, sinking into the cracks.
Eyes closed, he murmured. The tower glowed faintly, and the land itself seemed to sigh, rivers and hills harmonizing until the fractures stilled.
He rose.
"…Seal restored by three-tenths," he rasped, weary. "It will hold three months."
"The technique reeks of Cersis witches' magic. Thirty years, and they haven't quit. What are they after?"
He gazed toward Muyun.
From his sleeve he drew a scrap of paper: a town office record, naming Bihua and Layne, the date they moved in, their current address.
Long silence.
"…Her features. So like her mother's youth."
"If I hadn't been shoring the ward back then, her family might not have…" He sighed.
Head lifted, he studied the stars. Silent sky. Wind threading leaves. Dogs barking far off.
"If she is truly Mu Wanhua," he whispered, "then I will protect her. Her parents gave their lives for the Kingdom—her bloodline must not end."
He tucked the paper away.
"And that little one from the Water Yao Envoy—unclear what she's after, but there's no killing in her eyes.
"Xuanhu sending spies, though—that is curious. Does this tie back to those others behind him?"
He turned, melting into the night. "Much to do tomorrow. Old… too old."