"Su Wanru, if not for you, I would not be who I am today."
"It was your words that gave me the courage to defy fate. In the darkest hours, whenever I felt I could no longer endure, I would think of you."
"Do you understand?"
Familiar characters lined up into cold, deliberate sentences, each one tasting like a serpent's tongue across her face—slick and sickening.
Lady Lu did not know how she had managed to walk out of the Regent's mansion.
She knew all too well that Shang Mozheng was cunning and treacherous; no one sentence of his could be trusted. Yet those words wormed into her mind like quicksand, forcing her to sink deeper into awful possibilities.
If she had not stepped forward to save Shang Mozheng back then, had she not spoken those words—would her father and mother still be alive?
Would the Su family still stand?
Would the Great Qi have fallen to such a state?
If the present calamity had to have a true architect, was it Shang Mozheng... or was it herself?
Was she the one who killed the people she loved most?
Was she the one who abandoned her youngest daughter for more than a decade?
She had—by her own hands—brought all of this into being.
Zhao County, an inn.
Lu Yinxī sat guard at the bedside, watching the doctor who had been hauled in by Fang Qinhu take Shang Luoshu's pulse. Her palms were white from gripping her nails so hard they threatened to bite into the skin.
They had reached the county that afternoon. This place lay near Longxi; Shang Mozheng's reach had not yet extended here—at least, not openly—so for now they were safe.
But no one had relaxed for more than a breath before Shang Luoshu, already battered from battle and the road, buckled first. The long march had finished what the wounds had started.
"How is he?" Lu Yinxī asked the doctor as soon as he pulled his hand back.
The practitioner sighed, stroked his goat-whisker beard, and considered his words. "This young lord was gravely wounded to begin with. After days on the road, a high fever now threatens him. That it's only fever at present is a mercy. I'll prepare a decoction—if he takes it and rests for a few days, we may yet turn the tide."
He added, pointedly, "He must recuperate properly. No more traveling."
"Good." Lu Yinxī answered solemnly, then motioned for Hongmei to accompany the doctor to buy the herbs.
One by one the others left the room. The girl—Lu Yinxī—sat down at the edge of the bed, slid her hand into the great, bruised hand of the man lying there. Tears glinted at the corners of her eyes; her pale lips trembled. After a long, shamed silence she managed three words.
"I'm sorry."
She had the Word-Spirit—an uncanny power bound to her speech—but despite that, she could not save him. All she could do was hand his life over to someone else.
"Why?" The door had opened without her noticing. Hongrui stood in the frame, her face hard as stone, eyes a well of cold accusation. "You have the Word-Spirit. You used it to save Zhoukou before. Why won't you use it for the Prince?"
Hongrui's voice grew higher despite her attempt to keep it low. At the Yangxian magistrate's office—what she had seen there would be etched into her memory forever.
Five Wolf Guards, men whose hands were stained with countless lives, had fallen at a single sentence from the girl—gone in an instant with no hesitation. That scene answered so many questions that had gnawed at her. For fear of the Prince's orders, Hongrui had not dared press those questions before, nor reveal her covert investigations; so those doubts had festered.
Seeing that moment with her own eyes—and then Lu Yinxī's later confession—left no room for uncertainty.
But now the girl, who possessed the most mysterious power in the world, refused to act. Wasn't she betrothed to the Prince? Didn't she love him? She had once run away from home to follow her lord—why now refuse to save him? Was it only because of those aftereffects she couldn't bear to endure?
Lu Yinxī knew what Hongrui meant. She said, quietly, "I am not afraid of the pain. I am not afraid of the aftereffects. If I could, I would do anything—even if it meant more days of suffering."
"But I cannot."
A weary shadow crossed her eyes. Only after a long moment did she speak again. "My Word-Spirit doesn't work on him."
"Doesn't... work?" Hongrui's taut expression slackened into bewilderment. "How can that be? Your Word-Spirit is supposed to be unmatched. Why would it not affect the Prince?"
"I don't know." Lu Yinxī forced a laugh that tasted like ash. She dropped her gaze to the man's face in the bed. If only she had known then... she wouldn't have let herself judge him so coldly.
"All right," she said at last. "We may have to stay in Zhao County a few more days. Let Luoshu stabilize before we travel."
Night had fallen. They gathered in a small room to arrange what came next.
Because Shang Luoshu had slipped in and out of consciousness, the men who remained of his retinue increasingly deferred to Lu Yinxī, not because she demanded authority but because she had become the pivot on which their fragile world turned. Yet she was no despot—she consulted them, considered options.
"What does Lin think?" Lu Yinxī asked, meeting Lin Zihan's steady gaze. All the evidence against Shang Mozheng lay with him. Chen Guang's message had arrived, too—Commander Zhou was moving on Yangxian under the Emperor's orders.
The safest course seemed obvious: get the proof to the capital. Lin had once proposed the same when Shang Luoshu had been conscious; he suspected Shang Mozheng had staged such a grand scheme not only to seize public support and military power, but also to use the upheaval to eliminate Shang Luoshu and Lu Yinxī. Compared to the two of them, Lin was less of a target.
Lin read the subtext of her question. He had thought of departing—he admitted as much—but shook his head.
"No," he said. "I'll go with you to Longxi. We'll wait until the Prince recovers, then return to the capital together."
He wanted to take the evidence to court, but he knew that leaving now would require taking some of the remaining guards. Their numbers had already been thinned by loss. Besides, his instincts told him the Regent would not let them go easily. If he spirited men away, he would only expose Luoshu and Lu Yinxī to greater danger.
"All right." Lu Yinxī did not press him further. Then she turned to Lu Hu.
"Lu Hu, how long to ride to Longxi from here?"
Lu Hu had come from Longxi; no one present knew the roads better. "Miss, one day."
One day. She frowned slightly—time was tight, but it was the only option.
"Good. I order you to leave tomorrow. Find my uncle in Longxi and ask him to send men here to help."
She shared Lin's prudence: though she had a Word-Spirit, extra hands could never hurt.
"I'll prepare at once!" Lu Hu said, and hurried from the room.
He returned almost at once, face pale and serious.
"What's wrong?" Lu Yinxī asked.
For a heartbeat the air seemed to hold its breath. Then Lu Hu's voice, tight with alarm: "The Wolf Guards are here."