The border town was tightly guarded. The coachman couldn’t pass the checkpoint; after Zhao Shuning and her companions climbed down, he turned the horses and drove back the way they’d come.
Above the walls the sky was the same clear blue it had always been. The saplings Ye Xingchen had planted years ago had grown markedly taller; she watched them and felt a smile ease onto her face.
Because it was a frontier post, the watch was especially strict. Still, it helped that Zhao Shuning had summoned Ye—his name apparently carried some weight here. Even the stern-faced sentry who met them snapped to attention, saluted, and waved them through.
The city’s lord, who had been in council, hurried out when his men reported a sudden visitor. He still wore the official robe of the Hailing Kingdom. He looked to be in his thirties and came forward with such practiced hospitality that he was already ordering his attendants to prepare a welcome meal.
“Benefactor, you honor us with a visit,” he said. “Why didn’t someone let me know? I could have arranged a little feast.”
Ye stood as he approached. “Wen Xi, it’s been a while. I hope all’s been well.”
“Everything’s been fine, thanks to your concern.” Wen Xi stepped closer and only then noticed the woman beside Ye. He froze, taken aback.
Ye, amused, called his name once, then again. It took Wen Xi a moment to recover. He flushed with embarrassment. “Forgive my rudeness earlier, benefactor. I—this young lady is—?”
“She’s my sister,” came the quiet answer.
“Oh—so she’s your elder sister. I beg your pardon.” Wen Xi blinked, composing himself. “She’s very beautiful. It was rude of me to stare. But Wen Xi is no stranger to the world—he’s seen plenty and shouldn’t have behaved so. Still, the way I looked just now…there was a reason.”
He turned his gaze back to Zhao Shuning and met her eyes squarely. “There’s something familiar about those eyes. They remind me of a portrait I once painted.”
Wen Xi was an educated man and a practiced artist, particularly renowned for the way he captured eyes—the soul of a face, as he liked to say. His house held many depictions of beauties, and the most vivid pieces were always those focused on the gaze. He remembered eyes he’d seen and could not forget them.
Zhao Shuning relaxed into a small smile. “Just a coincidence.”
Wen Xi nodded, then listened as Zhao squared her shoulders. “Wen, we came with a request.”
Wen Xi looked at Ye with curiosity. “What is it? If there’s anything I can do for you—”
Zhao interrupted. “We’re looking for a man called Kong Ye. Have you ever seen him?”
She made a delicate sign with her fingers, and like a mist settling, a portrait appeared in the air—a clear, lifelike likeness of the man she described. Wen Xi stared at the face, then frowned as if trying to turn a distant memory.
“Kong Ye…” Wen Xi murmured. “I remember him. He served a few months here, as a jailer’s prisoner. He had decent features—nothing remarkable, though I didn’t pay his eyes much attention at the time.”
“Wen, my friend said she saw him in the cold cell here,” Zhao continued. “He was in prison garments. I was told he was transferred from this post.”
Wen Xi’s expression sharpened. “Ah. After those months he was sent away—to Chaozhou.”
“Chaozhou?” Ye asked. “Where’s that?”
Wen Xi’s voice went low. “Chaozhou is the king’s fief—King Xia Rui’s estate—close to the capital. For years now, the Hailing Kingdom has sent certain convicted men there when their terms end. If they’re handsome, they’re put up for public sale. If they’re sturdy, wealthy households buy them as guards. Their servitude contracts go to the purchaser.”
Zhao’s face tightened. The notion of public auctions of human beings—sold like livestock—was neither something she’d expected to encounter nor something she could ignore.
“Were you saying Kong Ye might be among them?” Ye asked.
Wen Xi nodded. “If he was without spiritual force or special power, then yes—such men are sent to Chaozhou to be sold off.”
Zhao glanced at Ye. “Sister, shall we go to Chaozhou?”
Ye bit her lip. “I’ll go. You should return for now. You don’t know the routes there, and Xiao An needs you here—if you go back you might meet Linlang on the way. With you around I’d be less worried.”
“But Chaozhou—”
“Don’t worry about the journey.” Wen Xi spoke up quickly. “I have distant relatives in Chaozhou. There are official posts and relays along the way; I can send people to escort you. If Kong Ye is still there, I’ll take you to him—come what may, even if it means offending the royal house.”
Ye hesitated, torn. On one side was the woman she’d only just seen—her sister—and on the other was Xie An, someone whose fate she could not abandon. Both mattered to her; she could not simply choose.
Zhao reached out and squeezed her hand. “Xingchen, leave it to me. Wen Xi’s connections will see us through. I’ve been to the Hailing Kingdom before—things have changed, but I have some ties there. I won’t be in danger.”
There was a steadiness in Zhao’s voice that eased the tension a little. For now, an uneasy plan took shape: someone would go to Chaozhou and try to find Kong Ye, and someone would stay to tend to what remained at home. The border city watched their small drama unfold beneath the same endless blue sky.