Zhu Yujian had discovered something dangerous.
He liked learning.
As a child, he had been confined like a criminal inside the Prince of Tang's residence. The old prince had once attempted to starve him into submission. Hunger gnawed at his ribs. Books filled the emptiness.
He studied when he was hungry.
He studied when he was weak.
He studied when he was angry.
Now he was free.
And freedom only sharpened that hunger.
At dawn each day, before the Prince of Qin's manor stirred awake, Zhu Yujian would slip out in his wandering swordsman attire. Straw hat low. Sleeves loose. Eyes alert.
He walked markets. He visited workshops. He questioned merchants, blacksmiths, laborers, clerks, women buying vegetables, boys hauling coal.
He asked about taxes. About wages. About steel production. About grain distribution. About rail timetables.
In the evenings, he never missed Gaojia News.
Xi'an felt different from any city he had known. It was not merely prosperous.
It was alive.
People were not surviving. They were advancing.
There was a collective momentum in the air, as if the entire city were running toward sunrise.
Perhaps this, he thought, is what a golden age feels like before historians give it a name.
The more he learned, the more he realized how ignorant he truly was.
His classical education was impeccable. His moral philosophy refined. His understanding of military history solid.
Yet here, in this new world of railways and factories, of wage systems and profit cycles, he felt like a child again.
One morning, he sought out Zhu Cunji.
"I wish to study properly," Zhu Yujian said without hesitation. "Systematically. Politics. Economics. Administration. Everything. Where should I go?"
Zhu Cunji grinned as if waiting for that question.
"To Gao Family Village, of course. Thirty-Two Middle School. Even Shi Kefa once studied there. Whenever someone realizes their brain is insufficient, that's where they go."
Zhu Yujian's eyes brightened. "Then I will go."
He paused.
"But how shall I live there? I have no residence. And no money."
Zhu Cunji burst into laughter.
"Money? That's the easiest problem you'll ever have."
With a heavy thud, he placed a thick pouch of silver into Zhu Yujian's hands.
Then he rubbed his chin.
"Actually… money alone won't work. In Gao Family Village itself, silver doesn't always speak. And you are not exactly a youth anymore. Imagine a masked knight-errant sitting in elementary arithmetic class. They might throw you out."
Zhu Yujian imagined it.
It was indeed absurd.
"I'll write you a letter of introduction."
Zhu Cunji swiftly composed a letter stating that Zhu Yujian was a relative of his, not a suspicious element, and wished to enroll at Thirty-Two Middle School for advanced study.
Then, instead of signing "Heir to the Prince of Qin," he produced a seal and stamped it decisively.
Pa.
Zhu Yujian leaned closer.
The seal read:
Exclusive Stamp of the Xi'an Railway Bureau Director.
He stared.
"You," he said slowly, "are the Prince of Qin's heir. Yet you do not sign as such. Instead, you use… this?"
Zhu Cunji's smile widened.
"You don't understand. Gao Family Village is where Dao Xuan Tianzun first manifested his miracles. It's sacred ground. In sacred ground, what weight does 'Prince of Qin's heir' carry? Very little."
He tapped the seal.
"But the Xi'an Railway Bureau? That is certified by Gao Family Village. Established with the Heavenly Lord's assistance. He even personally helped build a bridge for us. This enterprise is under divine protection."
He leaned closer.
"In Gao Family Village, 'Railway Bureau Director' is more useful than 'Prince of Qin's heir.'"
Zhu Yujian fell silent.
One title granted by an earthly emperor.
The other endorsed by Dao Xuan Tianzun.
The difference was not subtle.
"Remember," Zhu Cunji added, "if you encounter trouble on the way, present this letter. It will open more doors than your real identity ever could. And your real identity is not to be mentioned. Ever."
Zhu Yujian nodded.
Letter secured. Silver packed. Horse prepared.
He could have taken the train. It would have been fastest.
But speed was not his goal.
He wanted to see more.
So he rode out of Xi'an alone, heading toward Chengcheng County, dust rising beneath his horse's hooves.
---
At that very moment, another group was approaching Xi'an from the opposite direction.
The Jinyiwei had returned.
Not in flying fish robes. Not with embroidered uniforms or ceremonial blades.
They looked like beggars.
Tattered clothes. Dust-caked faces. Shoulders stooped. Eyes sharp.
Leading them was a thousand-household commander surnamed Mi.
His assignment was simple in wording.
Find the Prince of Tang.
Zhu Youjian had been furious when he learned of the escape. A prince slipping through the capital's grasp was not a small matter. Imperial dignity had been wounded.
Commander Mi had received the order.
In an empire of millions, he was to locate one man.
He had questioned the Jinyiwei who lost Zhu Yujian.
The kidnappers had worn knight-errant attire. Large conical hats. Shaanxi accents. Accompanied by black-clad masked subordinates.
So Commander Mi entered Shaanxi in disguise.
He did not know what a train was. He crossed Tongguan on foot.
Dust gathered in his hair. His boots wore thin.
"Remember," he told his men, "the abductor wore a flamboyant conical hat. That is our primary clue."
One subordinate grunted, "If we find him, we kill his subordinates and seize him."
Commander Mi nearly struck him.
"Are you brainless? We are searching for Zhu Yujian, not hunting hats. If we attack blindly and alert the wrong people, we lose everything."
He lowered his voice.
"If we see such a man, we follow. Quietly. To his hideout. If Zhu Yujian is there, we succeed. If not, then we consider… persuasion."
His men nodded.
Commander Mi sighed.
"In this vast realm, to find one man in a conical hat…"
Before he finished, a subordinate suddenly froze.
"Commander. Ahead."
Mi frowned. "What nonsense—"
Then he saw him.
A man in a conical hat.
Riding calmly toward them on the official road.
Alone.
No black-clad guards. No dramatic entourage.
Just one rider, unhurried, sunlight glinting off the edge of the hat.
The Jinyiwei froze.
It was too easy.
Commander Mi's heart pounded once.
Then he snapped to clarity.
"Do not panic. We are not wearing Flying Fish Robes. We look like refugees. He has no reason to suspect us."
He lowered his head.
"Disperse. Pretend you do not know each other."
The men immediately scattered, limping in different directions, playing their roles.
Meanwhile, the rider in the conical hat continued forward, unaware that fate had just placed him directly in front of the empire's sharpest hunters.
Or perhaps,
Not unaware at all.