Chapter Forty-Six: The Fox Spirit Encounters the World

October tenth, the season of light snow.

A black-canopied boat glided slowly across the river, now touched by winter’s chill. Fine snow fell softly, landing on the surface of the water and raising only slight ripples, dusting the boat’s eaves with a delicate silver.

“Miss, in just half an incense stick’s time, we’ll reach the ferry at Jiangdu City…” The ferryman’s voice drifted with the river’s current. From the painted barge, a pair of exquisite embroidered shoes appeared, stepping onto the plank. Then a slender, fair hand gripped the boat’s roof, steadying herself as she emerged from the cabin—a woman of peerless beauty, whose very bearing seemed otherworldly, as if she were not a daughter of any mortal household, but rather a fairy descending from some distant sect.

Su Zhiqiu gazed at the river blanketed in winter snow, momentarily lost in thought. She had traveled east from Tu Mountain for some time now; it was indeed the season of light snow. If she were still in Qingqiu’s Tu Mountain, the snow would be thick as goose feathers, soon sealing the mountain passes. Why was the snow in Great Zhou so gentle and mild?

She raised her hand to catch a flake; it melted in her palm, leaving only a subtle chill. As a fox spirit of Tu Mountain, she had seen countless snows since childhood, but the snows of Qingqiu inspired a deep reverence. This gentle snowfall was a first for the Princess of Qingqiu—there was no cold or ominous edge, only a beauty that lingered in the memory, enchanting and ethereal.

This year’s journey to Xiangyang was her first entry into Great Zhou. By the time she took command, Yun Chuan had already been occupied by Qingqiu, and on the march, not only were the sights and buildings unfamiliar, but she had not even glimpsed a single human.

Basking in the snow, the Princess of Qingqiu stood in a daze. The architecture of Qingqiu favored the Min school, with rammed earth techniques pushed to their limits—grand, intricate structures, fortified and imposing. Here in Hangzhou, the style was a blend of Huizhou and Suzhou: soaring eaves, curved corners, and winding garden paths.

Of course, Su Zhiqiu did not understand these schools; she simply felt that the high, elegant roofs and the brick-carved gateways were different from Tu Mountain, carrying an ancient, tranquil air.

But soon, this tranquility was broken. As the boat crossed the river beneath a stone arch bridge, sounds near and far mingled together. In the distance, music and singing drifted faintly, while close by, merchants shouted, children ran about buying candied hawthorn.

Not far off, crowds gathered around a stage; two martial artists were sparring—one with a massive hammer, the other wielding a long sword. Onlookers cheered, clinking wine cups and tea bowls. Those in nearby teahouses listened to storytellers or discussed notices held in hand.

Despite the snow, the streets thrummed with vibrant, earthly life.

In Qingqiu, Su Zhiqiu had never been overly pampered, yet such scenes were rare—perhaps the result of cultural difference. She found herself overwhelmed. She wondered if Yun Chuan had once been like this; if so, what a pity.

But war between nations ultimately came down to the interests of those at the top—the ministers’ machinations and mutual persuasion. Not even the princess, nor figures like the demon queen or the emperor, could sum it up in a phrase. Sometimes, external threats were needed to set things in motion, and after long years, the world became as it was.

Regardless of victory or defeat, it was always the common folk who suffered, soldiers at the borders who lost their lives.

As she pondered, a restless snowflake slid down her neck into her collar, making the Princess of Qingqiu shrink back. She opened an oil-paper umbrella.

The black-canopied boat had just docked. The ferryman smiled, “We’ve arrived, miss.”

“Thank you, madam.” Su Zhiqiu offered the ferryman a polite bow, then handed her a small piece of silver.

The woman, dressed in a raincoat and bamboo hat, accepted the coin and was about to give change, but Su Zhiqiu said, “No need. The river is cold and boats are few at this time.”

The ferryman simply thanked her, then asked, “Miss, you’re not from Jiangdu, are you?”

Su Zhiqiu was slightly surprised. “How did you know?”

The old woman smiled again, “With looks like yours, if you were a local, your name would be known far and wide. And from your manner, it seems you’re visiting Jiangdu for the first time.”

To put it bluntly, she looked quite inexperienced—like Granny Liu entering the Grand Garden for the first time.

Su Zhiqiu neither confirmed nor denied, only bowing her hands respectfully. Her first bag of tricks advised caution and preparation—never act before you’re ready.

Seeing this, the ferryman did not press further, only warning, “If you’re from another country, miss, be wary of the authorities.”

Su Zhiqiu nodded, instinctively touching the translucent jade pendant at her waist, and glanced at her reflection in the river.

With the pendant’s magic, her innate fox spirit allure was subdued. Her appearance retained some of its former beauty, but unless someone was very familiar, it would be impossible to see through her disguise.

Her face would cause no trouble. If she stood before Pei Xiunian, a man with no cultivation, seeing through her would be a wild fantasy.

With her own abilities, a little charm magic in secret would be more than enough to toy with him. Even if she couldn’t use her powers, she could resort to powders and potions—did he think himself immune to all poisons?

The odds of turning the tables were rising!

Now, the real question was how to approach the lofty Third Prince. As for being seen through by an old ferryman—well, it was just the difference between the two realms. Besides, the capital was still far off; there would be plenty of time to see the world.

Qingqiu had entered winter, isolating itself from the outside. It would be some time before she met with Qingqiu’s covert agents; she likely had the whole winter to reach the capital and meet Pei Xiunian.

She had never told anyone about the Heart’s Desire Pill. If she told her mother, she would never have been allowed to come to Great Zhou.

Still, Su Zhiqiu felt she had good judgment. If she told the demon queen, the entire Qingqiu would be unable to resolve the pill and she’d be ruined forever.

She truly had no chance to consult the Celestial Master; otherwise, she might have asked for a solution.

But since the Celestial Master had not objected, it was proof the matter would not become too great a burden.

Hmph… Before he tried to control her with the pill, at least he would have to recognize her.

As she queued to pass inspection by the ferry guards and several yellow-robed officials, Su Zhiqiu secretly thought: as long as she could subdue Pei Xiunian the moment she approached, and force him to hand over the antidote, she would have nothing left to fear.

She resolved to study Great Zhou’s customs carefully, then devise a way to approach Pei Xiunian. But to get close, she needed to know what he liked.

That did not include becoming a dancer or flower courtesan in some brothel—that would be beneath her. The Princess of Qingqiu would never stoop so low.

She’d rather linger outside the Forbidden City gates every day, waiting for Pei Xiunian to appear. With her cultivation, she could stay awake for days on end.

As she thought this, a sheet of paper caught the wind and fluttered toward her; it was thin, covered densely in writing, and seemed to include illustrations. She caught it and took a look.

It chronicled the recent happenings in Hangzhou: sects fighting, a man named Jin getting beaten up and paying for damages after picking a fight, and a notorious thief, who turned out to be a woman, caught and reported.

Su Zhiqiu found it fascinating. Qingqiu had no such tabloids—what a clever idea! She flipped it over to see who was behind it, and found the signature: “Pei Xiunian?!”

Seeing his name made her scalp tingle, a sudden dread almost making her knees buckle. The Princess of Qingqiu steadied herself against a wall.

If it were anyone else, she could chalk it up to a clever moneymaking scheme. But if it came from Pei Xiunian, that was different.

His influence reached this far? Not only was he accomplished in military strategy, but he could openly use his status to control public opinion?

No—this man must not be allowed to remain.

After familiarizing herself with Great Zhou’s culture, she must devise a way to approach Pei Xiunian, then immediately head for the capital. Either negotiate cooperation, or eliminate him.