“The weather is dry, be careful with fire… Young man, go home early and rest; don’t make your family worry.”

“Okay, thank you, sir.”

It was the first watch of the night. The old, frail night watchman, carrying a white paper lantern, passed Chen Ji on the street.

Chen Ji walked through Anxi Street, cradling the sleeping Wuyun in his left arm and carrying a jar of wine in his right. He pushed open the wooden door of Taiping Medical Hall, creating a narrow gap.

He paused, surprised. An orange-yellow light spilled out from the door’s gap, a rare warmth in the winter night.

Behind the counter, Old Man Yao was tallying accounts with an abacus. The crow, unseen for a long time, had returned to the medical hall and perched on his shoulder.

Old Man Yao glanced up at Chen Ji and asked indifferently, “Why didn’t you say, ‘I’m back,’ today?”

Chen Ji smiled as he entered, “Uncle Crow, long time no see.” The crow lifted a wing, a gesture of greeting.

Old Man Yao looked at the wine jar in Chen Ji’s hand, his expression unreadable. “Don’t go fetch water tomorrow morning,” he said.

Chen Ji placed the wine jar on the counter and asked curiously, “Why?”

Old Man Yao said casually, “Remember this: after killing someone, don’t go to the City God Temple, and don’t look into a well. The feng shui is bad.”

Chen Ji was slightly taken aback. Though he didn’t understand the meaning, he still replied, “Okay.” Old Man Yao then asked, “Do you regret it?”

Chen Ji thought for a moment. “No regrets,” he said.

It turned out Old Man Yao hadn’t been asleep; he knew what Chen Ji had been through tonight and was waiting for him.

It was just as he had felt the first time he stepped into Taiping Medical Hall: as if simply by entering, everything outside could be temporarily forgotten and put aside.

This sharp-tongued old physician, though his blood might be cold, had a warm heart.

Old Man Yao broke the clay seal on the wine jar, smelled it, and frowned. “How much worry does it take to buy such strong wine? Go get two bowls.”

Chen Ji said, “Oh,” and went to the kitchen to fetch two ceramic bowls.

Old Man Yao poured a shallow amount into his bowl, lifted it to his lips, and slowly took a sip. Chen Ji asked curiously, “Master, you drink too? I thought you never did.” Old Man Yao looked at the lamp flame on the counter. “I used to love drinking when I was young, but not anymore,” he said. Chen Ji didn’t understand. “Why did you stop?”

Old Man Yao thought for a moment. “When you get older, wine tastes a bit bitter,” he replied.

He lowered his head, watching the wine in the bottom of the bowl shimmer in the lamplight. “The longer you live, the more you lament how fate plays tricks on people. Is it timing? Or destiny? Killing this person tonight, the key isn’t whether the Princess will learn the truth, but whether you can overcome the hurdle in your own heart.”

Chen Ji remained silent.

Old Man Yao looked at him. “But it’s good that you finally understand one truth: those who can’t let go of anything can’t change anything.”

Chen Ji pondered the words seriously, then poured himself a bowl of wine, not much, just a shallow amount at the bottom.

He took a small sip, then exhaled a sharp, knife-like breath of alcohol.

At that moment, Wuyun also woke up. It poked its head forward and licked a bit of the wine from Chen Ji’s bowl, immediately spitting it out and sticking its tongue out from the spiciness. This amused the crow, which silently ‘laughed’ by pointing at it with its wing.

Wuyun got angry and chased the crow around the room, pouncing at it.

Old Man Yao watched the cat and bird bicker and casually asked, “You’ve now received the ice flow from Consort Jing and Consort Yun, and you’re taking two ginseng roots a day. Aren’t you worried that such rapid progress in cultivation will make Golden Pig suspicious?”

Chen Ji thought for a moment before explaining, “Master, I can’t wait any longer.”

The ice flow provided by Consort Jing and Consort Yun was more than anyone else had given previously. Roughly calculated, it was enough to digest over twenty ginseng roots. It’s a pity that Grand Secretary Liu resigned his post due to mourning and returned home, so he had no ice flow. Otherwise, the ice flow generated by a Grand Secretary in power would probably exceed that of the two princely consorts combined.

Old Man Yao sighed. “The Mountain Lord’s path fears haste the most. If someone discovers a clue, the world will not tolerate you.”

Chen Ji replied, “Master, I have the cultivation method given by the Privy Council as a cover. Even if Golden Pig discovers an issue with my cultivation speed, he won’t know I’m practicing the Mountain Lord’s path. Besides, in this world, only interests can truly bind people together. While I don’t know what Golden Pig is truly doing hidden within the Privy Council, it must be something monumental.”

Chen Ji continued, “He needs strength. The faster I cultivate, the more indispensable I become to him. If I were to name one person who least wants me to die right now, it would definitely be him.”

Old Man Yao raised an eyebrow. “What will you do when he finishes his business and no longer needs you?”

A thin mist flashed across Chen Ji’s eyes, and he said in a low voice, “That time will never come.” Old Man Yao studied him for a moment, then said with satisfaction, “You are finally no longer a stranger from afar.”

Chen Ji’s gaze fixed. The weight of those words felt immense.

The aged physician and the youthful boy looked at each other across the counter, finally breaking through the unstated understanding between them.

Chen Ji had long suspected that Old Man Yao knew he was from the Forty-Nine Heavens, which was why he hadn’t questioned Chen Ji’s drastic change in personality.

On the night he first arrived, Old Man Yao had said he went to the Zhou Mansion because he had ‘calculated a lucky hexagram.’ But looking back now, it seemed more like he was worried Chen Ji wouldn’t find his way home and would become a lost soul, so he went to lead him home.

If Old Man Yao hadn’t gone to fetch him that night, Chen Ji wouldn’t have known where to go after leaving the Zhou Mansion.

Old Man Yao sighed with emotion, “I don’t know where you lived before, to have cultivated such an innately compassionate heart. But in this world, good people don’t live long. Now that your blood has grown cold, that’s good. Otherwise, I would have worried you’d precede me.”

Chen Ji remained silent.

Old Man Yao looked at him and said, “But I have another piece of advice for you.”

Chen Ji asked, “What is it?”

Old Man Yao slowly said, “Your blood can be cold, but your heart must be warm.”

The same eight characters, but this time, his Master spoke them in a different order.

“It’s time I gave you this,” Old Man Yao said, pulling an object from his sleeve and placing it on the counter, pushing it towards Chen Ji.

Chen Ji took it and saw it was an ivory-white waist token carved with a Bagua diagram. There were no characters on the token, only three trigrams.

He looked puzzled. “Master, what is this?”

Old Man Yao said nonchalantly, “I originally didn’t want to give it to you, fearing you’d die even faster with it. As for what it is, I can’t say, nor do I wish to. You are a clever person; when the day comes that you can use it, you will naturally understand.”

Chen Ji asked again, “Why are there only three trigrams on this Bagua waist token?”

Old Man Yao replied casually, “The Open Gate, Rest Gate, Life Gate—the three auspicious gates. There’s no special significance; it’s just for good luck.”

Chen Ji murmured, “Oh,” and put the waist token into his embrace. “Master…”

Old Man Yao waved his hand impatiently. “I don’t have time to chat with you. I’m going back to sleep. And again, you don’t need to fetch water tomorrow morning. Stop crowing like a rooster every day; it disturbs my old man’s sleep.” Chen Ji simply stood there.

Old Man Yao drained the wine in his bowl, then looked at Chen Ji. “You bought the wine, why aren’t you drinking it?”

Chen Ji paused. “Master, I didn’t buy this wine to drink,” he said. Old Man Yao looked doubtful. “Not to drown your sorrows?”

Chen Ji didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He went to the kitchen, fetched charcoal, crushed it, mixed it with strong spirits, and spread it out to dry. “Master,” he explained, “this process is to purify the charcoal, to extract… well, it’s for making the robust and dominant substance you mentioned.”

Old Man Yao’s eyes widened, then he flung his sleeves and walked towards the backyard. “I worried for nothing!”

Chen Ji smiled, then focused on crushing all the black charcoal, mixing it with the spirits, and spreading it out to dry.

Once everything was done,

Chen Ji silently blew out the oil lamp and sat alone behind the counter, lost in thought, letting the darkness envelop him.

The 4484th dawn.

A watery, briny scent of dawn drifted in the thin mist, as if soft moss had grown in the air.

Chen Ji led his warhorse, which had been tethered to an apricot tree, into the thin mist covering the bluestone path. The clatter of hooves echoed far down the empty street.

He first went to the East Market to buy pastries from Zhengxin Studio again, then left through the South Gate and hurried all the way to the Liu family’s grand estate.

Now that Consort Yun was gone, the Privy Council naturally couldn’t use incriminating evidence to condemn Prince Jing. They would likely detain the Crown Prince and Princess for a bit longer, then have no choice but to release them.

However, when Chen Ji arrived in front of the Liu family’s grand estate and saw its vermilion lacquered gate, he finally hesitated.

On the way, he had only thought about finally saving Prince Jing’s Household, but upon reaching the gate, he faltered.

Chen Ji was silent for a moment, then finally dismounted and knocked on the grand gate.

With a creak, the vermilion lacquered gate opened a crack from within. A young Privy Council agent poked his head out. Seeing Chen Ji, he asked in surprise, “Minister Chen, why are you here?”

Chen Ji handed him the pastries. “Please deliver these to Prince Jing. I won’t go in,” he said. The agent replied, “Minister Chen, this has been delivered to the wrong place.”

Chen Ji frowned slightly. “What do you mean? Has Lord Golden Pig given any instructions?”

The agent knew that Chen Ji was a favored subordinate of Golden Pig, having repeatedly achieved great merits, and might one day become a high-ranking agent like a Sea Dragon Hawk. So he quickly explained, “Early this morning, Lord White Dragon already led men to escort Prince Jing, the Crown Prince, and the Princess to the Inner Prison. So your pastries should be sent to the Inner Prison.”

Chen Ji asked impassively, “Why did Lord White Dragon escort them to the Inner Prison?” The agent said with an apologetic smile, “Your subordinate is not privy to that information. You’ll probably have to go to the Inner Prison yourself to find out.”

Chen Ji stood silent before the gate for a long time, the furious, bitter cold wind blowing his hair eastward.

Chen Ji threw the pastries down in front of the gate, vaulted onto his horse, reined it in to turn around, and hunched low as he galloped towards the Inner Prison.

He suddenly remembered what Golden Pig had said: if the most powerful people in this Ning Dynasty wished Prince Jing dead, then he must die. This was the general trend.

Chen Ji finally understood.

Now, the Privy Council was already poised, with an arrow on the string, ready to shoot. Without Consort Yun, they would fabricate other evidence until Prince Jing was completely dead, eliminating all future troubles.

Prince Jing had trusted the wrong person; his death was one thing, but what about the Crown Prince and Bai Li? Chen Ji dismounted in front of the Inner Prison gate. He steadied his breathing, then unhurriedly knocked on the iron door.

A prison guard peered through the small window in the iron door. Seeing it was Chen Ji, he quickly opened the iron door. “Ah, Minister Chen,” he said.