Jiang Liu had come to tell Qingheng that his family would also be paying taxes tomorrow, so they could all go together.

“Then take the cart over there first. Load it up this afternoon, and I’ll come to your place tonight. Anything that doesn’t fit, put it on the one I’m renting.” Qingheng, holding Qingguo, led Jiang Liu to the thatched shed next to the straw hut, where they usually kept farm tools and carts.

Both his family’s cart and the rented one were there.

As they walked, they discussed the details. Jiang Liu asked, “When do you plan to leave?”

“At midnight tonight—how does that sound?” Qingheng had worked out the timing and said, “If all goes well, we’ll reach the county seat by the hour of the Snake tomorrow. If we leave early, the line won’t be too long, and we’ll save some time waiting.”

He added, “If that’s fine with you, I happen to be heading to Lizheng’s place this evening, so I’ll let him know.”

The fortress gate could not be opened at irregular hours; a request had to be submitted to Lizheng. Only after Lizheng gave his approval would the gate guard agree to get up in the middle of the night to open it.

“I’m fine with that.” Jiang Liu surveyed the sheep pen and horse stall across from his thatched hut, then glanced at the one-foot-long, still-crawling Qingguo in his arms and at Xing Yue and Xing Zhao, who stood at the kitchen doorway watching them curiously. He lowered his voice and asked, “What about you? Can you trust this young master?”

“With Lady Wang gone, there’ll be no one left in this area.” Jiang Liu expressed his concern for him: “We don’t know when we’ll be back. Why don’t the two of you discuss it and drive all the sheep over to my place? Let Jiu-ger and Guoguo come over for a few meals too. My sons are all out, but the women are still at home; they can help keep an eye on things, and the bandits won’t dare to come near.”

Qingheng suspected that Jiang Liu might already know that Xing Yue and Xing Zhao were exiles implicated in a family plot to rebel. He didn’t quite trust him.

Qingheng was about to leave, but he was actually worried that thieves might have their eyes on them.

Some families in the fort were prone to petty theft. While they wouldn’t steal large valuables—those were too conspicuous—they’d take advantage of people’s absence to snatch small items like cooking utensils, eggs, or chickens. It was incredibly frustrating and impossible to guard against.

But the most annoying thieves are the ones from outside the fort. They often target homes with few people, waiting until the residents are out or fast asleep at night. They form gangs to dig through or scale the fort walls to carry out their thefts.

These kinds of thefts usually target large items, such as cattle, horses, sheep, ironware, grain, and farm tools. Losing even a single item can, at best, leave a family in dire straits; at worst, it can devastate the entire household. Both Qingheng’s family and Lady Wang’s family lived right next to the fortress wall—especially Qingheng’s family, whose house was backed by the wall on two sides.

Fearing theft, Lady Wang no longer used the sheep pen at night; instead, she herded the sheep directly into the bedroom where she and Jiu-ger slept. She also kept all the grain in the bedroom rather than the granary, so that the slightest sound would wake her.

Qingheng, on the other hand, went out into the Gobi Desert to gather many thorny plants. He planted a thicket of camelthorns along the fortress wall and the outer wall of his home, and also planted a row of caragana bushes along the base of the walls, both inside and outside, and he would go to check them from time to time. If he saw that any had been moved, he would be on high alert and replace them immediately.

But being startled awake like this was not a long-term solution to the problem of thieves.

Every time Qingheng went out for the night, he was actually worried, fearing that thieves outside might find an opening.

Thinking of Xing Yue’s condition—his injuries hadn’t fully healed, and he was still taking medicine—Qingheng knew he’d likely sleep very soundly that night, so he didn’t refuse. “Then we’ll drive the sheep over tonight,” he said.

“As for Guoguo…” Qingheng paused for a moment before saying, “The older women are all busy, and you all have children of your own at home. I’ll ask Master Xing to help look after him.”

“He used to look after Young Master Xing, knows how to cook, and has plenty of experience—he should be just fine.”

Unlike Jiang Shen, Jiang Liu had grown up alongside Qingheng and didn’t trust him with everything.

He was about twenty years older than Qingheng; though they were peers in status, he was of an age to be considered an elder. In their interactions, he treated him with the concern of a younger relative but without being overly clingy.

Seeing that Qingheng had made up his mind, he thought for a moment, then said nothing more, only adding, “At mealtime, I’ll have your sister-in-law come over to check on things. If he’s not there or isn’t taking good care of Guoguo, just have your sister-in-law bring Guoguo over to my place to eat.”

“Alright!” Qingheng naturally wouldn’t refuse her neighbor’s kindness and smiled, “It’s settled then.”

After Jiang Liu pulled his cart away, Qingheng remembered that the two brothers hadn’t taken their medicine yet. He hurriedly urged them to drink it, then placed Qingguo on the kang and asked Xing Zhao to watch him while he changed the dressing on Xing Yue’s head.

Xing Yue didn’t understand the dialect of Xizhou and didn’t know that he was going to the county seat tomorrow. Curious, he asked, “What’s he coming here for?”

When they’d met the previous evening, Jiang Liu had greeted them with a cheerful smile. But after a night had passed, when they met again, he didn’t even meet their gaze—he simply ignored them.

As an adult, Xing Yue could naturally sense the change in his attitude. He even clearly saw that when Jiang Liu was speaking with Qingheng, he glanced up at him—a look filled with aversion and wariness.

Xing Yue thought to himself, it seemed Qingheng’s prediction was correct—the villagers really did treat outsiders differently. He felt a sense of frustration; after all, he hadn’t done anything wrong, so why was he being singled out for no reason?

He couldn’t shake the sense of resentment and injustice.

But upon reflection, he realized that expecting them to treat him normally was perhaps asking too much.

After all, people don’t know that he hasn’t actually done anything, and the charges against him are simply too alarming. They’re all normal people—who in their right mind would want to get close to a source of danger?

It’s only natural that people wouldn’t want to deal with them, and that they’d be wary of and resentful toward them.

—Of course, Qingheng was the exception.

Qingheng had no idea that Xing Yue had mentally labeled him an exception. After changing the bandages, he thought of something, so he cradled Qingguo back into his arms, sat down on the other side of the bedside table, rummaged in his robe, pulled out a scroll, and handed it to Xing Yue: “Take a look at this.”

“What’s this?” Xing Yue caught it and examined the cover; it looked like a book similar to the Thousand Character Classic.

Seeing Qingguo stretch out his paw curiously to grab it, he laughed and raised his arm, coaxing him to hop along, refusing to let him touch it. Qingguo squealed with delight, utterly “thrilled.”

Seeing the scroll, Xing Yue also thought of something. While playing with Qingguo, he took the Thousand Character Classic scroll from his bosom and asked Qingheng, “Do you have a needle and thread?”

“It doesn’t look very convenient in this rolled-up form. I’d like to bind it into a thread-bound book; that would be easier to read.”

Qingheng was startled. “You’re going to tamper with it?”

He immediately put on a serious face and pointed to the scroll he’d just been given: “Let me tell you, this is a collection of legal code excerpts borrowed from Lizheng. You’d better not touch it. If you damage it, I’ll make you pay him back.”

Xing Yue: “……” Is it really that serious?

Qingheng clearly saw the unconcerned look in his eyes. Not entirely trusting him, he reached out to snatch it away: “Forget it, I’ll just return it to him.”

Xing Yue wondered if he’d misunderstood. He gave the scroll a shake. “Is this really that valuable?”

“Of course it is,” Qingheng rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen plenty of books in the capital, so you might not think much of it. But here in Xizhou, writing supplies are a real luxury. Only Lizheng’s family owns a copy of the legal code excerpts. I went to borrow a winnowing basket this morning and had to beg and plead before I managed to borrow this along the way. His copy was jointly issued by the prefectural and county governments—it’s the only one in the entire village. You won’t find it anywhere else.”

“What about the Thousand Character Classic?” Xing Yue felt his voice beginning to tremble.

Qingheng looked a little embarrassed and lowered her voice, but still said, “It was a betrothal gift from the monk.” Xing Yue instantly felt the paper scroll grow hot in his hands, and his fingers trembled. “A betrothal gift?”

To the people here, that must be incredibly precious. Yet he had already unwrapped it and torn it into scraps of paper.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Xing Yue was mortified. He tentatively reached out his hand, speaking while carefully

“Could you please not be too angry?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the scroll of the Thousand Character Classic unfurled in a single fluid motion.

The scroll clattered onto the bedside table, and the paper sheets scattered across his hands. Qingheng: “……”

Even Xing Zhao’s mouth dropped open in surprise: “……”

Only Qingguo let out a smug “hehe” and grabbed the paper scroll, shoving it straight into his mouth. 

Qingheng: “……”

Xing Yue：“……”

The two instantly went into a frantic scramble—one grabbing his arm, another pinching his chubby cheeks, one snatching from his hand, another snatching from his mouth. Finally, they managed to wrestle the crumpled piece of paper from Qingguo’s hand and the soggy scrap from his mouth.

Qingheng looked at the crumpled, drool-stained paper and couldn’t keep a straight face. He exchanged a glance with Xing Yue, and they both burst out laughing.

But as they laughed, his gaze fell on the legal code excerpts in Xing Yue’s hands. His smile vanished instantly, and he said seriously, “You must take good care of this book. Otherwise, I’ll really hand you over to Lizheng and make you recite it from memory for him.”

The original owner had passed the imperial examination and came from a scholarly family, so he might have been well-versed in the legal code, but Xing Yue certainly wasn’t that capable. He hurriedly held up three fingers in a promise: “I’ll take good care of it.”

“Then take a look.” Qingheng placed Qingguo on the edge of the kang, leaned over to pick up a piece of burlap from the bed, and, with practiced ease, turned her back to Qingguo to tie him securely to her own back. “I’m going to gather the grain. We’ll set out tonight with Lady Wang and the others and arrive at the county seat tomorrow to pay our taxes. When the time comes, I’ll drive the sheep over to Jiang Langjun’s place. You stay here to watch the door and look after Qingguo.”

Xing Yue paused in surprise. “You’re going to pay taxes?”

Seeing him carrying Qingguo on his back, he hurriedly said, “It’ll be hard for you to work with him on your back. Let me look after him, or tell me what needs doing, and I’ll help you.”

Qingheng glanced at him and smiled as she declined: “I’m used to it—I can work just fine with him in tow. You should read the book first. Finish it and memorize it as soon as possible, then I’ll return it. If you want to lend a hand, there’ll be plenty of opportunities once you’ve recovered; it doesn’t have to be today.”

With that, he turned toward the bedroom, brought out the sewing basket, placed it on the bedside table, and glanced at his hands. “I don’t know much about thread-bound books. You know how to handle them, right?”

“I do.” Seeing the sewing basket arrive, Xing Yue knew he wasn’t angry and was overjoyed, his voice ringing out loud and clear. Qingheng thought for a moment, hesitated, then asked, “You know how to sew, too?”

“I do.” Xing Yue quickly held up three fingers in a pledge: “I won’t waste a single stitch.”

“Alright.” Qingheng glanced at his face; seeing the look of absolute certainty there, she nodded impassively. “Then get to work.”

Then, carrying Qingguo on his back, he headed toward the storeroom.

Once Qingheng had left, Xing Zhao asked in surprise and admiration, “Big Brother, you know how to sew too?” Xing Yue’s heart skipped a beat, his head went instantly fuzzy, and he instinctively wanted to ask: Doesn’t your big brother know how?

But just as the words were on the tip of his tongue, he swallowed them back. After a brief pause, he suppressed his racing heart, tugged at the corner of his mouth, and blurted out, “The more skills you have, the more ways you have to survive.”

“Oh.” Xing Zhao nodded, looking as if he half-understood.

Just as Xing Yue was about to look away, his gaze fell on Xing Zhao’s bare feet and the small leather boots he’d taken off at some point. A vein throbbed at his temple, and he grabbed him by the collar, his anger flaring: “Why is there sand all over your boots?”

His voice was so loud that even Qingheng in the storeroom could tell he was about to explode. Xing Zhao, of course, could tell too.

Anticipating the lecture he was about to receive, he clutched his boots and burst into tears: “But the sand just keeps getting in, and it won’t come out!”

“It’s rubbing my feet raw—I can’t even wear them.”

“Big Brother, you should beat it, not me.”

“It’s the sand’s fault—it’s picking on me… Waaah, waaah, aaaah…”

Xing Yue: “……” 

Qingheng: “……”