They spent two more days in Nan Shu, just long enough for Ziyan's quiet orders to take shape. Villagers who had once cowered behind shuttered windows began to emerge into the streets again. Grain was bought up from neighboring farms, debts paid in full with ledgers Rulan had left behind. Simple things — rice sacks, patched roofs, medicine for festering wounds — but to people who'd lived under ruinous taxes and fear, they were everything.
Feiyan stood on the half-collapsed temple steps, overseeing a small crew patching the slate tiles. Shuye helped load bundles of thatch onto wagons. His cheerful complaints carried over the square, and more than once he was caught showing village boys how to handle nails without smashing their own thumbs. The villagers had started calling him "Little Master Carpenter," to his embarrassed horror.
Ziyan watched them, heart heavy. This would be the first time since the riverbank she'd walked forward without Feiyan's steady shadow at her shoulder.
Feiyan seemed to sense it. She crossed the square, sweat shining on her forehead, and stood close. For a moment neither spoke. Then Feiyan let out a small huff.
"You look like you're sending me to the gallows, not a broken village."
Ziyan smiled, though it trembled. "You'll complain, but you'll thrive here. These people will follow you. And they need someone like you — someone who doesn't flinch from dirty hands or difficult choices."
Feiyan rolled her eyes, but her voice was low, almost tender. "You're the one they'll remember. The girl who burned down the old taxes and left grain instead of soldiers."
"I need you to be my hands here," Ziyan said. "Build it strong, so when I come back, we'll have a true foothold."
"And when you come back, I'll have a whole damn festival ready," Feiyan muttered. But her eyes softened. "Shuye'll stay too. These folk need a forge again. And he's grown a little taller. Almost looks like a proper man from the right angle."
Ziyan laughed. It cracked like old clay, but it was real.
Shuye jogged over, breathless from hauling another load of lumber. He looked between them, reading the unspoken words. His expression faltered.
"So… this is really it for a while."
"For a while," Ziyan promised. "No more."
He swallowed, then hugged her. Awkward, fierce. "Don't let Li Qiang keep all the danger to himself. And if you find trouble that even your mark can't burn away… run back here. I'll have hammers and soup waiting."
Feiyan hesitated — then pulled Ziyan close too, pressing her forehead to hers the way Rulan once had. "Keep your head up, Princess. Remember, you've got monsters and old gods watching, but you've also got us. Always."
Ziyan breathed her in — steel, sweat, dust, home — then stepped back, blinking hard. "I'll come back stronger. So you'd better be ready to bow to my empire."
Feiyan snorted. "Not in this lifetime."
But she squeezed Ziyan's hand before letting go.
They left Nan Shu at dawn. Lian'er rode on the small donkey cart beside Li Qiang, fingers wrapped around the edges of the seat, eyes wide and watchful. Ziyan looked back only once — catching the flash of Feiyan's sword in the sunlight, Shuye's hammer lifted in a casual wave.
Then they were gone, dust curling up behind them on the long road east.
The Eastern Capital still rose like a jeweled snare on the horizon, its towers catching the afternoon light in cruel splendor. But it was not unchanged. Markets bustled, but with an edge of desperation. Guards stopped travelers twice over, merchants whispered in knots on street corners.
At the teahouse, Lianhua stood by the window. Her fingers drummed a silent rhythm on the sill. A pot of jasmine steamed behind her, untouched.
She replayed the Minister's words in her mind — her family still watches… — until the shape of them felt carved into her bones. She knew powerful men issued threats as easily as breathing, but there had been something disturbingly calm in his gaze. As if Ziyan was already counted among the dead, only waiting for the last tally.
When the bell above the door chimed, she nearly flinched. But it was only one of her young couriers, face flushed from running.
"My lady," he gasped, bowing low. "News from the outer ministries. They've declared it openly — Qi will march on Xia. Full war. No more border skirmishes, no quiet bribes to keep local prefects at bay. They say the Emperor himself has signed it."
Lianhua's heart jolted. "And the Merchant Guilds?"
"They're already tightening supply lines. Prices are jumping. Some houses are pulling their caravans off the roads entirely, afraid of being seized for the war effort."
He swallowed. "A few said… if Ziyan intends to keep meddling, she'll be ground up between Qi's armies and Xia's revenge."
Lianhua dismissed him with a quiet nod. When he left, she stood there, palms flat on the wood, breathing slowly.