Chapter 3: The Man in the Shadows

Xue Qingwan stepped forward, her skirt brushing the corner of the table. Her voice was kept low and soft, as if she were afraid of startling someone. "How is it that Sister is deciding who to marry? Why do I know nothing about it?"

The tea in the hall was still warm, the heat mixing with the smell of medicine, floating in the air.

She tilted her head, a silver hairpin swinging with the motion. Her gaze skipped over Xue Qingyin’s shoulder and landed on Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu. "Uncle Lu, don’t you think that? The way my sister is speaking about this… it almost sounds like… she’s already picked someone?"

The hall went silent for a beat. Outside the window, a sparrow flapped its wings, then the sound vanished.

Xue’s father stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor with a sharp squeak. A few drops of tea sloshed from the cup onto the table. "Qingwan!"

"Father, please don’t get worked up." Xue Qingwan took half a step back, twisting the handkerchief in her fingers until the corner of the cloth was balled into a fine crease. "I’m just asking on Uncle Lu’s behalf. If His Highness finds out, we need to have an explanation."

Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu sat still, his eyes lingering on Xue Qingyin for two seconds before he ignored the prompt. "If the young lady prefers not to say, there is no harm in it."

"Why wouldn’t I say?" Xue Qingyin placed the lid back on her cup, the rim making a small, sharp click. "When I speak, I know exactly what I’m doing. That’s enough for me."

"Know exactly what you’re doing?" Xue Qingwan gave a little laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "My sister is sure of herself, but I’m not. All I’ve heard is… a few days ago, someone came to the door, claiming to ask on His Highness’s behalf for a match, only for my sister to brush him off with a 'let’s discuss it later.'"

Xue Qingyin didn’t look at her. She only looked at Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu. The light from outside slanted into the hall, falling on the table between them. "Uncle Lu, these few words—will you answer them?"

"I will." Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu clasped his hands, his back straight as a board. "I will relay them exactly as they were."

"Good." Xue Qingyin nodded. "Carry my final message to him. Tell him Xue Qingyin is laying her cards on the table today. If His Highness truly wants to marry me, I will go through with it. But if he’s using me as a pawn to test the loyalties of others, then I’d rather not have the match at all."

The corner of Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu’s mouth twitched—it was unclear if it was a smile or a sigh. He stood up, straightened his sleeves, and turned to leave. The soles of his boots crossed the threshold, the sound of his footsteps fading as he walked away.

The atmosphere in the hall sank.

Xue Qingwan stood in the doorway, watching Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu’s silhouette disappear into the corridor before she turned around. The smile was still on her face, but her eyes held a different kind of weight.

"Big sister has quite the nerve," she said. "With one sentence, she put His Highness in a position he couldn’t back out of."

Xue’s father’s face was iron gray. He raised a finger to point at her, his hand trembling in the air. "Qingwan, get out of here."

"Father." Xue Qingwan didn’t move, the handkerchief clenched tight in her palm. "Don’t you want to know? Who exactly does she plan to marry?"

Xue’s father’s lips moved, but he didn’t answer.

Xue Qingwan waited a moment, got no answer, and turned to leave. Her skirt hem brushed the doorframe as she exited the courtyard.

Xue Qingyin didn’t move. She stayed seated in the same spot, slowly finishing the medicine in the blue porcelain cup. The brew had cooled slightly, but the bitterness didn’t make her wrinkle her brow.

"Do you understand," Xue’s father sat down beside her, leaning forward, his voice dropped so low it almost hovered against her ear, "Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu is one of His Highness’s closest aides. If this word of yours gets back to him and he gets angry—"

"Let him be angry." Xue Qingyin handed the empty cup to a servant, the bottom of the cup clinking against the tray. "If I didn’t say this today, someone would be coming to the door every day with a marriage proposal. Third Young Master of the Wang Family, that bastard from the Prince of Yong An’s household, that old man from the salt merchant’s family—they all wave the 'I’m doing this for your own good' flag. Father, how many of them can you stop?"

Xue’s father opened his mouth, but not a single word came out. His hand rested on his knee, his knuckles white.

"I can’t stop them," he finally said, his voice hoarse. "But the way you’re doing this, you’re blocking every road."

"Not every road." Xue Qingyin stood up, smoothing her skirt. "Just the roads that shouldn’t be walked."

She started to leave, pausing for a moment as she passed Xue’s father, lowering her eyes. "Oh, by the way, that medicine was a Kushen Decoction. Don’t tell her. She can’t drink it."

Xue’s father blinked, looking up. "What?"

"Nothing." Xue Qingyin was already at the corridor, her shadow falling on the blue brick floor. "You go ahead."

By the time the dusk had settled in, Xue Qingyin hadn’t returned to the main house. She changed into a simple outfit and detoured to the used bookstore in South City.

The bookstore door was propped half-open, a single oil lamp lit inside, casting a dim yellow light. The owner, Uncle Zhou, was a man in his sixties with a limp and poor hearing, so he always had to tilt his head to listen. He didn’t sell new books; he dealt in scattered old tomes, some of which were only half remaining, the paper yellow and brittle, crumbling at a touch.

Xue Qingyin came once a month and never bought anything. She just browsed.

"Uncle Zhou, have the new old books arrived today?"

"Yes, yes." Uncle Zhou poked his head out from behind the counter, his reading glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. "Third stack. You can look through them."

Xue Qingyin walked to the third stack, crouched down, and began flipping through them one by one. She didn’t mind getting dust on her fingertips.

When she reached the seventh book, her hand stopped.

Tucked inside the old volume was a small slip of paper. On it were just four characters, written in a hasty, scrawling hand—

"West City, 5 PM."

She pulled the note out, read it twice under the dim light, tucked it into her sleeve, and continued flipping through the books. Her movements were the same as before, neither fast nor slow.

"Why aren’t you buying anything today, Miss?" Uncle Zhou asked from behind the counter.

"Don’t need to." Xue Qingyin put the book back, stacking the pile neatly. "I’ve looked through everything."

"Looked through everything?" Uncle Zhou squinted at her from above his glasses. "You’ve been coming here for a month, and every time you browse for three hours."

"I have something to do today." Xue Qingyin smiled and straightened up. "Uncle Zhou, that copy of *The Southern Frontier Record* you said you saw in the old-goods pile last time—did you find it?"

"Haven’t found it yet." Uncle Zhou sighed, taking off his reading glasses to wipe them. "The old-goods pile has everything under the sun, but that book… Miss, I’ve been looking at books for decades and I’ve never seen that one. It’s probably lost somewhere out there."

"It’s fine." Xue Qingyin stood up, brushing the dust off her dress. "Take your time looking for it."

She walked out of the bookstore and turned into the alley. The sun had completely set, leaving only a thin line of dark red on the horizon.

The alley was narrow, flanked by low brick walls. Clumps of wild grass grew on top of the walls, pressing down in the wind and bouncing back up. Halfway down, she stopped.

A person was standing at the end of the alley.

His back was to her. He was wearing a moon-white long gown, holding a folding fan in his hand. The ribs of the fan were carved with bamboo leaves, the craftsmanship so fine that the veins of the leaves were clearly visible.

Xue Qingyin recognized that fan.

"Shen Yanzhou," she called out.

He turned around and smiled.

He was about four or five years older than her, with clean features, a small mole on his chin, and eyes that curved into crescents when he smiled.

"You have a good memory," Shen Yanzhou said. "I remember you just moved from the East Market side last month."

"If you remember me, why wouldn’t I remember you?" Xue Qingyin crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Young Master Shen, what are you doing here?"

Shen Yanzhou closed the fan and tucked it into his waistband. "I came to see Uncle Zhou. I promised him a book last time, and I brought it today."

"What book?"

"*The Southern Frontier Record*."

Xue Qingyin’s eyes lit up for a split second.

Shen Yanzhou noticed her reaction and raised an eyebrow. "So, you want that book?"

"I do." Xue Qingyin said. "How much?"

"I’m not selling it." Shen Yanzhou shook his head. "I promised it to Uncle Zhou. I can’t break that promise."

"Then I’ll buy your share of it."

"Buy what?"

"I’ll tell Uncle Zhou that I’ll pay triple for that book—no," Xue Qingyin thought for a second, then held up a number with her fingers. "I’ll pay four times the price. Is that enough?"

Shen Yanzhou laughed, his eyes curving. "Uncle Zhou doesn’t look at the price when selling books; he looks for a connection. Even four times might not be enough."

"Then how do I get it?"

"You help me with something."

Xue Qingyin looked at him. "What’s that?"

Shen Yanzhou took a step forward. The light in the alley grew dimmer, and his voice dropped. "Help me look into something. A name. Xue Qingyin."

The alley was quiet for a moment. The wind swept across the tops of the walls.

Xue Qingyin blinked. "Me?"

"Miss of The Xue Family, Xue Qingyin." Shen Yanzhou said. "Find out what she’s been doing lately, who she’s seeing, and what she’s been saying."

Xue Qingyin took half a step back, dropping her arms from her chest. "You’re investigating me?"

"It’s not me investigating." Shen Yanzhou paused. "Someone else told me to investigate."

"Who?"

Shen Yanzhou gave a small, evasive smile and didn’t answer.

"If you don’t tell me, I won’t help." Xue Qingyin turned to leave, her hem kicking up a bit of dust.

"If you leave," Shen Yanzhou called out from behind her, "you still won’t get that book."

Xue Qingyin stopped, but didn’t turn around.

"I’ll help you look into it." she said. "But let me ask one thing first: if I help you investigate, what do I get out of it?"

Shen Yanzhou thought for a moment. "Uncle Zhou owes me a favor. I’ll take the book, and you’ll pay four times the price. If you help me investigate, I’ll help you…"

"Help me with what?"

Shen Yanzhou turned to look at her back. "Help you push back the marriage proposals that shouldn’t be coming to your door, one by one."

The alley went quiet again.

Xue Qingyin slowly turned around to face Shen Yanzhou. The dusk stretched her shadow long across the brick wall, making it look like a thin leaf.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

Shen Yanzhou took the fan out of his waistband, spun it around in his hand twice, and clicked the ribs together with a faint sound. "Because it’s interesting."

"Interesting?"

"You put Your Highness in a spot today when you made that speech to Chief Imperial Commissioner Lu," Shen Yanzhou said. "You tore a hole in his face. If this gets out, at least three people in the court won’t be able to sleep."

"So you’re helping me because you find the mess I’m making interesting?"

"I’m not helping you." Shen Yanzhou closed the fan and gripped it in his hand. "I’m just watching you."

Xue Qingyin stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Big Master Shen," she said, "if Uncle Zhou heard you say that, he’d laugh you out of the shop."

"So what?" Shen Yanzhou shoved the fan into her hand. "The fan is borrowed for now. *The Southern Frontier Record*, go pick it up from Uncle Zhou tomorrow."

Xue Qingyin looked down at the fan in her hand; the bamboo leaves on the ribs were translucent in the fading light.

"You can go." she said.

Shen Yanzhou turned and walked two steps, then looked back. "Oh, right. Did you see that four-character note?"

Xue Qingyin’s fingers tightened at the edge of her sleeve.

"See what?"

"West City, 5 PM." Shen Yanzhou said. "Are you really saying you didn’t see it?"

Xue Qingyin didn’t answer. She turned and walked into the dark depths of the alley. Her footsteps were light and quickly became inaudible.

Shen Yanzhou stood at the mouth of the alley, watching her back disappear, a curve at the corner of his mouth.

He looked down at his empty hand and muttered to himself, "Interesting."

Then he left too.

The alley was empty.

Only the wild grass on the wall tops swayed in the wind, swaying for a long time.