Chapter Text
Their first meeting took place late at night. But… was it truly their first meeting?
They stood on opposite sides of the courtyard, and on opposite sides of a conflict neither of them knew enough about.
Dou Zhao had wanted to reach him earlier. She had hoped to use the knowledge she carried from the future to help him. She felt obligated to protect him. Yet, she couldn’t do it openly. She didn’t even know what she could say. She couldn’t simply warn him that his uncle—Diang Meisun, Duke of Ding—should tread carefully. She couldn’t tell him that the man would soon die, a tragedy that would destabilize the entire empire. To reveal this would be to risk her own life. And she couldn’t take that risk.
There were too many things she needed to change. Too many people she had to protect. No matter how deeply she felt her duty to Song Mo, she couldn’t waste the opportunity she had been given.
Now, they stood face to face.
They weren’t enemies, but there was nothing she could say now that would stop him from what he was about to do. She knew it the moment she saw the men with crossbows aimed in her direction. She knew he had already made his decision.
He valued the life of the child he was trying to protect far more than the lives of random servants or a few unfamiliar women. She understood that. Even if it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew everyone had their priorities. And this Song Mo hadn’t yet lost everything he held dear—things that, in another lifetime, might have driven him to risk his life to save her, a stranger he had only recently met on the road.
She understood. And she would protect him. She couldn’t let him become the man she had known in her previous life.
“Fourth Young Lady, you’re heading out on this rainy night. Where are you going in such a hurry?”
He asked, standing before her. Dou Zhao couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked so young, at least ten years younger than during their first meeting on another timeline. He looked almost innocent.
Even the oversized hood he wore to obscure his features couldn’t fool her. Song Mo, in this timeline, was still just a boy, barely an adult. Raised in the army, where he sought refuge from the dangers lurking for him at home, under the care of an uncle he loved as though he were his own father.
She knew of the countless battles he had fought. She knew of the ferocity with which he had dealt with pirates in recent years. And yet, this Song Mo seemed, in her eyes, like an innocent child. Like a blank slate. He was untouched by the treacheries of aristocratic families.
Raised in the military, he had grown up in a perilous environment that paradoxically offered him the safest shelter he could have had.
She couldn’t look away. He was like a beacon in the darkness of the night, drawing her gaze and captivating her.
“It’s such stormy weather. I can escort you all the way,” he offered.
His voice was calm and resolute. In the stillness of the night surrounding them, it echoed like a thunderclap.
Her servants stepped back, drawing their swords. She raised her hand, stopping them.
"Fighting them is futile," she said, forcing her tone to remain calm. She couldn’t let him see the emotions this meeting stirred within her.
"No one within a hundred steps can escape from the military crossbows," she added, her voice steady.
"Forgive me," he apologized.
His gaze was fixed on her. He didn’t look away, not even as he raised a whistle to his lips. She knew what would happen if its sound pierced the stillness of the night—it would be their death sentence.
"I cannot fight against you, Young Deputy General of Ding Army, but I can assure you that if you make this decision now, you will regret it in the near future," she interrupted him.
His arm wavered slightly. She noticed every faint emotion that flickered across his face—every twitch of his lips, every subtle quiver of his brow.
"I know how to save the Duke of Ding and his heir."
Song Mo lowered his hand, moving the whistle away from his mouth. Dou Zhao felt a faint spark of hope. Perhaps she wouldn’t need to play any of the… riskier cards she had prepared for this night.
"What do you mean?" Song Mo asked, stepping toward her. One step, then another, and another. The distance between them shrank quickly. Yet, she didn’t feel threatened. She had never felt threatened by him—not even when she learned that her home had been surrounded by unknown men under his command. Even then, she had felt certain that no harm would come to them. She had hoped for the best.
"The Duke of Ding was taken by the Imperial Shadow Guard two weeks ago. He’s aboard the imperial ship, traveling to the capital, where he’s to be interrogated and judged by the emperor."
Their eyes met again, this time from a much shorter distance. She could now see the intricate play of light reflected in his pupils, every subtle shift of his lenses. And she knew he could observe her with the same precision.
"I know how to save him," she said with unwavering confidence. "Will you listen to me?"
"Who are you?" he asked.
Dou Zhao bowed, as befitted a well-mannered young lady.
"Fourth Lady of the Dou family, Dou Zhao," she introduced herself.
"Your Lordship, you don’t know me. However, you shouldn’t refuse a helping hand. You don’t have many people around you whom you can trust, and even fewer who are willing to help you."
Song Mo turned his gaze toward his subordinate and advisor, Yan Chaoqing, seeking counsel.
"I meant no harm. Whether it’s a massacre or making a deal, it’s up to you to decide."
Song Mo nodded, looking thoughtful and uncertain. She didn’t want to put him in such a situation. She didn’t want to see him worried or afraid. She wanted to help him, but to make him accept her help, she had to force his hand—at least for now, at least until he trusted her.
She heard footsteps approaching from behind and closed her eyes briefly. She had hoped they could reach an agreement without involving the child. Unfortunately, it was too late.
Zhao Zhangru approached her, carrying a bundle of warm blankets in her arms. Within them, peacefully asleep, was the only son and heir of the Duke of Ding.
"You’re here to distract me, to buy time. You tricked me," he said, stepping away from her.
She couldn’t bear to look at him. In the fleeting moment their eyes met again, after Zhao Zhangru handed her the child, she could see a mix of emotions in his gaze—emotions she never wanted to see again. She could almost feel the betrayal he must have experienced.
"As I said, I meant no harm," she repeated, instinctively rocking the child in her arms. Her hands tightened on the bundle, ensuring the boy was safely and securely wrapped. She knew they had traveled with him for days. The boy had been exposed to harsh weather and the discomforts of the journey for far too long. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had already fallen ill. They needed to protect him. The boy was the future she intended to fight for.
She didn’t know what had happened to the child in her first life. She hoped Song Mo had managed to hide him without her intervention. But looking at his actions in the years that followed… she doubted the boy had lived long enough for him to see him again.
"This was just a contingency plan—to get you to sit down and have a proper conversation with me. If we had come to an agreement earlier, the child wouldn’t have had to be out in the wind again," she said.
She draped her coat over the boy, shielding him from the cold night as best as she could in the current circumstances.
"Very well. Let’s talk," Song Mo finally agreed.
Dou Zhao turned and led the way toward the hall, where a table had already been prepared for them to sit and discuss.
+++
Dou Zhao handed the child to her cousin, who began pacing the room with the baby in her arms, gently rocking him to sleep. Song Mo and Dou Zhao sat across from each other at the table.
"The Duke of Ding is still under escort, his fate undecided. Yet here you are, risking exposure to the yamen, the Ministry of Justice, or even the Court of Judicial Review, prepared to slaughter everyone here to silence them. That can only mean the person you wish to entrust the child to is nearby, correct?"
She spoke as soon as they sat down. She didn’t want to delay any further. She had already wasted enough time convincing him to listen to her. She wasn’t about to lie—she needed to make him trust her. They had to be ready to act before sunrise. If they spent too much time on idle discussions, no one would survive.
As she spoke, she watched Song Mo and his men carefully, studying their reactions. She knew this was information no one else should have had, but she wasn’t just anyone. She knew things and cared for her people. She intended to prove to Song Mo that she could be a valuable ally in the future. She had to demonstrate her worth before she could ask for his trust.
Her first task was to save the Duke of Ding’s heir.
Earning Song Mo’s trust was essential for her next goal: rescuing the Duke of Ding himself.
"Tan’s Manor is far from the imperial court, and they have a reputation for loyalty and righteousness. It’s said that the Tan Family is indebted to the Duke of Ding. They would indeed be an ideal choice," she continued in a calm voice.
Her gaze remained fixed on Song Mo, scrutinizing his every reaction. She was determined to understand him, to know him, and to learn how to work with him. If she wanted to help him, she knew she would have to spend a great deal of time in his presence. She needed his cooperation, and her observations now would help her understand him faster and better.
Today, Song Mo found himself in an unprecedented situation. Dou Zhao had a unique opportunity to gather insights about him that she wouldn’t have been able to obtain otherwise.
"This woman is calculating and full of schemes," an older man said, leaning toward Song Mo in an attempt to warn him against Dou Zhao.
She felt the corners of her lips twitch upward in amusement. Here she was, sitting across from Song Mo—the man who, in the future, could become the most fearsome of demons, the one mothers used to frighten their children. And his advisor was warning him about her.
The thought amused her, and, oddly enough, she felt flattered. Yes, she could scheme and plan. She could manage information and people effectively.
But he didn’t need to fear her. Because Dou Zhao saw him as one of her own. She intended to protect and defend him. He didn’t have to do anything to earn her trust; he already had it.
"Your Lordship, don’t waste time with her."
"There’s no need to see me as your enemy, Your Lordship," she interrupted the advisor’s whispers with a voice brimming with confidence.
"I have always held great respect for the Duke of Ding and the Jiang Clan," she assured him.
"If the Duke of Ding can be freed from danger, the child will naturally be safe. Then, Your Lordship won’t have to resort to such dishonorable actions."
They fell silent for a moment.
"The Duke of Ding's loyalty and bravery are known to all. Those in the court who can see clearly will petition on his behalf. You don’t have to worry about this, miss," Song Mo’s advisor reassured her.
Dou Zhao offered him a condescending smile.
"I’m sure Duchess Ying is already rushing to gather old acquaintances to submit joint petitions, pleading for justice. Is that correct?" she asked, her attention fixed solely on Song Mo. It was his response she sought.
"Under normal circumstances, that would be the proper approach," she continued when Song Mo failed to reply to her earlier statement.
"But the Duke of Ding is no ordinary person. Such good intentions might only end up as a death sentence for him."
"How dare a country girl speak such nonsense!" the advisor exclaimed, his irritation evident.
Song Mo silenced him swiftly, refusing to allow any insult to Dou Zhao. She smiled at this, offering him a slight nod of gratitude.
"Fourth Young Lady, please continue," he requested, his eyes filled with genuine interest and a desire to learn more.
Dou Zhao was tempted to remind him that she had a way to save the Duke of Ding, but she decided to honor his request and proceed.
"Back in the day, when Wang Jian asked for land, Emperor Qin Shi Huang brushed it off with a laugh. Xiao He defamed himself, yet Emperor Gaozu of Han never doubted him. Zhou Yafu had great achievements in conquering the seven kingdoms, but he died unjustly due to a few slanderous words."
She recounted these historical examples to educate him, guiding his thoughts in the direction she desired.
"Why?" she asked.
"When one’s success overshadows the ruler, there will always be envious people who spread lies with the intention of misleading the ruler," he replied after a moment.
She felt the urge to nod in approval at his insight. Song Mo was an excellent student, and she knew she wanted to continue such discussions with him in the future—on power, laws, and the principles governing their world. But for now, they had to focus on the most pressing issue: saving the Duke of Ding.
"As Su Ziyun once said, 'First there is doubt, and then slander takes root.' If His Majesty hadn’t already harbored suspicions, those lies wouldn’t have succeeded," Chen Qushui added.
"A mass petition will only be seen as a challenge to imperial authority, a faction pressuring the throne. Do you think His Majesty would feel more assured or more threatened by that?"
Dou Zhao’s advisor continued. After his words, silence filled the room. Dou Zhao observed the shifting emotions on their faces—anger and fear slowly giving way to resignation and weariness.
"What do you think we should do?" Song Mo asked her openly, a note of sadness creeping into his voice.
"In my opinion, it would be better to take the opposite approach. Let the officials turn against the Duke of Ding and push him further into isolation," she said calmly.
"When the Duke of Ding appears to stand alone without any support, His Majesty’s suspicion will naturally ease. Out of consideration for their friendship, the emperor would likely settle for a small punishment," she suggested.
"In the interest of political stability, the emperor might even rely on the Duke of Ding more in the future."
"But who can truly understand the emperor’s thoughts? Isn’t this approach too risky?" Song Mo’s advisor asked, directing the question to no one in particular. Dou Zhao chose to ignore him, waiting instead for Song Mo’s reaction.
"You live far away from the imperial court, but you certainly know how to read the situation and understand people’s minds," he said.
For a moment, the emotions Dou Zhao had easily read on his face disappeared entirely. His expression smoothed into a perfect mask, and his eyes darkened dangerously.
Song Mo’s hand tightened around the sword resting on the table before him.
"How do you know so much about the Duke of Ding’s case? Who exactly are you, and why are you living here in hiding?"
The tension in the room escalated. Hands instinctively moved toward swords or hidden weapons.
Dou Zhao took a deep breath, thinking carefully about how to defuse this volatile situation. She knew she couldn’t reveal too much at once. He wouldn’t understand. It wouldn’t make him trust her the way she needed him to. If anything, it would make him even more wary of her—a risk she couldn’t afford if she wanted to work with him in the future.
She couldn’t allow every action she took to be called into question.
She was about to speak.
The sorrowful, painful cry of a child broke the silence of the room.
Everyone’s attention turned to the precious bundle cradled in Zhao Zhangru’s arms. Dou Zhao shifted her gaze toward her cousin. The woman was rocking the child, trying to soothe him, but her efforts brought no visible improvement to the baby’s condition.
"Madam!"
Song Mo’s voice called out sharply, summoning the nursemaid he had hired to care for the child. Her footsteps could soon be heard approaching the room.
"Sulan, put down your weapon. Do not act rashly," Dou Zhao instructed calmly, knowing her loyal servant would not let the nursemaid enter the room unless she was certain there was no threat.
She had to place her trust in Song Mo. If he used this moment to take the child away and break off negotiations, she would have no defense to shield her from Song Mo’s blade.
She took the risk. Dou Zhao knew trust was a matter of giving and taking. At this moment, she had to trust Song Mo, hoping it would encourage him to trust her in the future.
"Lu Ming, tell the wet nurse to come in," Song Mo commanded.
Moments later, the woman entered the room.
Dou Zhao extended her arms toward her cousin, silently asking her to hand over the child. Zhao Zhangru had been trying to calm the boy for some time, but to no avail. She pulled back the blanket, revealing the baby’s tiny face. His mouth was open in a wail, his glassy eyes brimming with tears. She placed her hand gently on his forehead. Thankfully, he wasn’t dangerously warm—hotter than he should be, but nothing that posed an immediate threat to his life.
The nursemaid stepped closer, leaning over Dou Zhao’s shoulder to observe the child.
"The hiccup isn’t stopping," she said, turning toward Song Mo.
"Has it always been like this since birth? Cold and sweating excessively?" Dou Zhao asked. The nursemaid nodded quickly in confirmation.
"Suxin, warm up the goat milk I usually prepare and bring it over," Dou Zhao instructed her servant, who rushed off to carry out the task.
Holding the baby close, Dou Zhao rocked him gently, syncing her movements with the rhythm of her breathing. The boy began to calm down slightly.
"You’re an unmarried young lady, and yet you know how to care for a baby?"
The question came from Song Mo’s advisor, whom Dou Zhao had already internally classified as existing solely to irritate her. She had to resist the urge to sigh.
It was as if an ignorant, unmarried man believed that knowledge of how to care for a child magically appeared in a woman the moment she gave birth. From time immemorial, every woman had to learn—some through trial and error, others with the guidance of their mothers or grandmothers. The knowledge didn’t come out of thin air.
"I’ve cared for many babies in the manor. Naturally, I know more about this than men like you," she replied curtly.
She replied, unable to resist adding a hint of a jab to her words. The mere fact that Song Mo’s advisor addressed her in such a pompous manner was irritating. However, she couldn’t get rid of the man—at least not yet. Song Mo trusted him, and she knew that in the near future, he would need people by his side whom he could rely on. She had no intention of revealing just yet that even a village healer could come up with such a solution.
She felt Song Mo’s gaze on her when Suxin returned with a bowl of milk. Taking the bowl, she adjusted the child more comfortably on her lap. Locking eyes with Song Mo, she tilted the bowl and drank a small sip of the liquid. The man shifted uneasily at her actions.
She almost smiled inwardly. He was far too easy to read, especially now, in a situation so unnatural for him. She had to remind herself that Song Mo was still just a young man.
Looking up again, she met his eyes. They were slightly widened, watching her intently. When she noticed a barely perceptible nod from him, she picked up the spoon and began feeding the baby slowly.
She could feel their gazes on her. Everyone was watching her actions, judging her, waiting either for the results of her efforts or for her to make a mistake. The child obediently drank the milk she offered.
"He’s drinking now! He’s drinking now!"
The nursemaid exclaimed joyfully.
Song Mo smiled upon hearing the news. It was the first genuine smile she had seen on his lips, and it drew her in like a moth to a flame.
"He was born prematurely, so he’s weak. He can’t digest breast milk very well, so he needs to be fed with goat’s milk," she explained.
"My manor is the only one within a hundred ji that raises goats. I’ll ensure it’s delivered to the Tan Manor on time after this," she offered, presenting her final gesture of peace between them.
Song Mo inclined his head slightly, stepping back and giving her space, withdrawing from his intense scrutiny of her every move. She hoped he finally trusted her, even if only a little. By taking the life and health of the Duke of Ding’s heir as her wild card, she hoped she had managed to secure victory this time.
The silence that settled between them once more was abruptly broken by the sound of Song Mo’s assistant’s stomach grumbling. She chuckled softly at the noise. Nothing else could have confirmed better that the men had endured a lot while trying to protect the boy. They hadn’t had the time or opportunity to rest. They had been on the run for a long time. Now, stopping at her home, their bodies were demanding what they had long denied themselves.
The young man flushed with embarrassment. He bowed to Song Mo in an apologetic gesture, mumbling, "Sir." Song Mo’s advisor also clutched his stomach, shrugging his shoulders.
They were just tired and hungry people.
She smiled at them.
"Since everyone’s hungry, how about putting down the weapons and having a meal?"
She suggested.
"That’s a great idea," Yan Chaoqing, the Deputy General, was the first to agree, not waiting for his lord’s reaction. If he wasn’t doing this to her advantage, giving her a chance to meet Song Mo on more neutral ground, she would have pointed out how he had just been dismissing her every idea, condemning her actions, and finding hidden agendas in everything she did.
Her gaze met Song Mo’s again. Now that the tension in the room had eased and the issue with the child had been resolved, he seemed much more at ease. The stiffness that had gripped his shoulders, making him appear larger than he actually was, had loosened. His shoulders now hung naturally, making him seem much smaller, almost harmless. Although she knew the strength hidden in those arms, at that moment, she could only think of him as a boy trying to act like an adult among adults. She gave him a wide, reassuring smile. She wanted to praise him, to tell him he had done well, that he had given his all. He had acted mature enough.
She was drinking tea with Song Mo at the same table while everyone around them busied themselves preparing food. Watching him over the rim of her cup, she noticed how his face softened, his features smoothing out, and his eyes reflecting contentment when the nurse approached him with the baby in her arms. Like a man who had probably never held a child before, he only looked at the boy’s peacefully sleeping face.
Rising from her seat, she walked around the table and gently took the child from the nurse’s arms. The woman let her do so without hesitation. It was remarkable how quickly she had earned her trust.
Dou Zhao circled Song Mo, standing behind him before placing the child on his lap. The man flinched at the unexpected move. Once the baby was settled on his knees, Dou Zhao reached for one of his arms, which he obediently allowed her to maneuver. She placed it under the child’s head. Guiding his other arm toward the middle of the bundle, she positioned it over the boy’s stomach.
"Now you know how to hold him. Don’t worry; he’s small, but he won’t fall apart under your touch," she said before returning to her seat.
"Now you’re already involved in this mess. If the Shadow Guards find out that your manor is implicated, do you understand the gravity of the crime for failing to report this? Won’t you regret it?" he asked, his attention mostly on the child, though his gaze briefly lifted to her.
"You have people you’re willing to risk your life for. So do I. If I don’t take this risk, I won’t be able to protect everyone in the manor. Besides, the Duke of Ding is someone I respect deeply," she answered honestly.
Her memories conjured the image of Song Mo from her past—a dying man, focused solely on clearing his uncle’s name. She couldn’t let him become that person again.
"I don’t want to see someone being pushed onto a path they can’t return from because of fate."
His gaze turned somber as he shifted his attention back to the child. He neither confirmed nor denied hearing or understanding her words. He didn’t need to. She was there to keep him safe, whether he realized it or not. At some point, he had become her person—her responsibility. She wanted to take care of him.
Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps reached their ears. Everyone shot up from their seats. Song Mo almost followed their example, but the weight of the child on his lap kept him rooted in place. The nurse quickly rushed to him, taking the child and retreating to the corner of the room.
"Sulan," Dou Zhao said calmly, addressing her loyal servant and signaling for her to open the door, from which the sound of knocking had begun to echo.
Sulan obediently grabbed a parasol, adjusted her hair to make it look slightly disheveled, as if she had been sleeping on duty, and headed for the door.
As the door opened, men wearing rain hats stormed into the courtyard. Before anyone could draw their swords, Sulan’s voice rang out above the sound of footsteps and the pouring rain.
"Tan Manor’s master is here!"
Song Mo stepped out from his place of concealment, moving toward the men. He stayed under the shelter of the roof, avoiding the rain.
"I owe my current position to the help of the Duke of Ding in the past. Please rest assured, Your Lordship, I will protect his young son with my life!" the Master of Tan Manor promised.
"Your righteousness is admirable. But today, things are different."
"During the flood, Fourth Young Lady helped with disaster relief and provided food, offering kindness and aid. If it weren’t for her, Tan Manor wouldn’t have survived this crisis," said an older man before falling to his knees.
The men he had brought with him followed his lead.
"I, Tan, boldly ask for a favor. We are willing to stake our lives to vouch that Fourth Young Lady is a person of great righteousness and honor. She would never leak this secret to anyone! Please spare her life, Your Lordship!" the man pleaded.
Dou Zhao stepped out of the hall, standing behind Song Mo. She observed him. His back was tense again. He watched the kneeling men with solemnity and calm.
"Please spare her life, Your Lordship!" the men from Tan Manor cried in unison, repeating their plea until Song Mo turned to face her.
His profile was as if carved from marble, his expression betraying no emotion.
"Fourth Young Lady, your manor is safe."
She exhaled in relief.
She knew the negotiations weren’t over yet. However, at that moment, she was certain that no blood would be spilled in her home that night. She could finally breathe.
She truly didn’t want to fight against Song Mo. She much preferred having him by her side as a friend rather than as an enemy.
+++
When Song Mo and his companions left her home, escorted by the rising sun, Dou Zhao watched their procession from the guard tower on the wall. Chen Qushui, her advisor, stood beside her, silent, waiting for her instructions or questions.
"Report from our people?" she asked without taking her eyes off the diminishing figures.
"The boat remains within hearing range, so far nothing unusual has happened. Our spy reports that the shadow guards are torturing the Duke of Ding, trying to force a confession from him."
She nodded, taking the information in. She had expected this. That’s why she had waited for Song Mo to disappear before addressing this matter.
"Ports?"
"Our people have observed several imperial eunuchs with guards appearing in the port city. They are keeping an eye on them."
She nodded again.
"Good. Have them keep watch. If the eunuch makes a move or the ship heads toward a port other than the capital, they should capture Jiang Meisun and monitor the situation."
"What are you afraid of, Miss?"
"I’m afraid the shadow guards want to extract a confession from the Duke of Ding, but the eunuch will try to secure his silence. Eternal silence..."
She knew that this could happen. In her previous life, the Duke of Ding never appeared before the emperor. The ruler sentenced him and his family, deeming that he had ignored his orders. It wasn’t until much later, much later, that anyone learned that the Jiang clan had been destroyed without cause. Only Song Mo spent most of his life trying to clear the Duke of Ding’s name, his beloved uncle. She knew that he would never succeed.
Even on the day of their deaths, too many unknowns remained. Too many hidden truths that no one could or wanted to uncover.
Dou Zhao hoped that if the main player remained on the board, the game could be played in a completely different way.
When Song Mo’s procession disappeared from their sight, she turned on her heel.
"It’s time to return to the capital. The situation at court will soon become very interesting and dangerous," she said, heading toward her room. She needed to prepare for her journey.
"Pass word to our friends to keep an eye on Song Mo. Have them protect him," she instructed.
The pieces had been placed on the board. She knew how the rules worked, but the second hand remained a mystery. She didn’t know what tactics to employ if she didn’t know who her opponent was.
She had no other choice. She had to take the risk.