September brought crisp autumn air. While the gardenias were fading, the osman thus was in full bloom, filling the breeze with a rich, sweet fragrance.

During this season, the roads were usually bustling with leisurely nobles out to enjoy the autumn scenery, their grand carriages traveling back and forth along the official highways—it was a lively sight.

However, today, far fewer travelers were on the road. It was the year of the horse, and this day marked the release of the triennial provincial examination results.

Any family with a scholar who had taken the exam had gone to await the results, leaving few in the mood for outings.

"Second Cousin is bound to pass this time. Auntie said his essays were often posted on the academy’s notice board for other scholars to read."

"Cousin studies diligently. With both talent and hard work, there’s no reason he wouldn’t succeed."

On the highway, two young gers were walking together toward the city.

"Once Cousin passes, he’ll surely propose to your family. Soon, I’ll have to call you cousin-in-law—you’ll have to look out for me then!"

Taehyung walked along the road, still feeling somewhat dazed.

He had stayed up late last night reading medical texts and was roused early this morning by the ger of the Yu family, who had stopped by his house to invite him into the city.

Taehyung wasn’t fond of going out, and the two of them weren’t particularly close—they merely exchanged greetings when they happened to meet in the village. He hadn’t planned to go at first.

But today was the announcement of the exam results, and since someone he knew had taken the test, plus his mother had subtly urged him to check, he ended up accompanying the Yu family’s ger into town.

Late autumn was approaching, and the morning wind carried a chill. Taehyung cupped his face in his hands, seeking a little warmth.

He had been walking in silence, listening to the Yu family’s ger chatter away, but as the talk grew bolder—mentioning marriage and calling him cousin-in-law—his cheeks flushed, and he couldn’t help but interrupt:

"The marriage is just something the elders joked about. It’s not settled yet. Xia ger, be careful with your words."

"But wasn’t it arranged since childhood? Everyone in the village knows about it. Now that you’re both of age, it’s only natural to discuss marriage. Why be shy?"

The Yu family’s ger nudged Taehyung with an elbow. "What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you regret it and don’t want to marry Second Cousin?"

Taehyung’s expression stiffened. As a famously frail ger in the area, how could he, of all people, afford to regret being matched with a scholar of marriageable age? Others envied him for it.

Taehyung had always grown slower than other gers his age.

When his peers were walking, he was still crawling. When they could speak in full sentences, he was just learning to call his parents clearly.

As a child, his family had worried he might be slow-witted. Fortunately, as he grew older, no intellectual deficiencies appeared. In fact, he learned to read and write quickly, which reassured his parents.

But while his mind was sharp, his weak constitution was undeniable.

As a child, his fair complexion made him endearing, but he remained thin and small, like a lamb that couldn’t be fattened no matter how much he was fed.

The slightest bump or scrape would make him cry, even if his skin wasn’t broken. A gust of wind or a sudden rain in midsummer could easily leave him with a cold. He had been delicate since birth.

More than once, a moment of carelessness led to serious illness. If not for his grandfather being a physician and ensuring prompt treatment, he might not have lived to this age.

His grandfather said he had a congenital weakness—his senses were more acute than most.

He fell ill more easily and felt pain more intensely, requiring far greater care than ordinary people.

Knowing his own frailty, Taehyung had studied medicine under his grandfather to spare his parents some trouble.

But as the only ger in the family, his parents never saw him as a burden. Instead, they felt guilty and took even greater pains to care for him.

His father, a shrewd man, had made early arrangements for his future, betrothing him as a child to a boy from their village.

Over the years, the family had supported the Yu family’s second son in his studies, and their efforts hadn't been in vain. The young man had already earned his xiucai degree and was now taking the provincial exam, his future bright.

The family hoped he would pass this time. Once the marriage was settled, Taehyung’s future would be secure.

Seeing Taehyung silent, the Yu family’s ger pressed on with certainty:

"Well, you’re so pretty. There must be wealthy families in the city who’d want you."

"Xia ger, where did you hear such nonsense?"

Over the years, there had indeed been lustful young nobles or wealthy merchants who sought Taehyung, but none with honorable intentions—they only wanted to buy a plaything.

His parents despised such people, and it was a sore spot for him. He wasn’t sure if the Yu family’s ger was simply blunt or deliberately mocking.

Just as Taehyung was about to retort, a heavy clatter of hooves sounded behind them.

They turned to see a sleek black horse with a piercing gaze trotting steadily down the wide earthen path.

Though the horse wasn’t galloping, its sheer size made Taehyung instinctively pull the Yu family’s ger back a few steps to avoid it.

The horse was broad-chested and well-proportioned, its coat glossy, its movements carrying an untamed wildness.

Taehyung knew little about horses, but this one seemed finer than any he’d seen before. Its snorting breath alone felt more intimidating.

Well-dressed onlookers turned their heads at the sight, murmuring in admiration.

Near the city gates, even the well-traveled elite paused to admire the horse. Taehyung guessed it must be a rare breed.

It was no wonder even the wealthy found it remarkable.

Good horses were scarce in the south. With the northwest embroiled in constant war, most horses were reserved for the military, leaving few fine specimens in the south.

For such a steed to appear on the road instead of in some noble’s stable was indeed a sight to behold.

"That man looks terrifying," the Yu family’s ger whispered, clutching Taehyung’s arm and hiding behind him.

Taehyung followed the horse’s towering frame upward.

On its back sat a man in coarse hemp clothing, a plain black cloak draped carelessly over one shoulder, lending him a rugged, frontier air.

His attire suggested no noble status—rather, he seemed like a wanderer who had traveled north and south.

The man was tall and powerfully built, his long legs gripping the horse’s sides effortlessly. The reins lay loosely in his hand, as if he controlled the beast more with his legs than with the bridle.

His sharp, expressionless eyes stared straight ahead, his imposing aura deterring anyone from meeting his gaze.

Southern men were considered tall at five chi, but even on horseback, this man stood well over six chi.

Due to his poor health, Taehyung seldom went out and had never met anyone as intimidating as the village butcher, whose bulging muscles and wide stride made him formidable.

Thankfully, the rider ignored the stares and continued forward. Had he glanced their way, Taehyung was sure his heart would have raced in fear.

Though the wealthy coveted the horse, none dared approach, fearing they might offend the rider and invite trouble.

They could only watch as the man rode his magnificent steed into the distance.

"People like that are rare around here. Even in a crowd, he’d tower over most. And that face... imagine waking up next to him in the middle of the night. You’d lose half your life from fright!"

Once the horse was gone, the Yu family’s ger reemerged, chattering about the stranger.

"Someone like Cousin—refined, gentle, and well-spoken—is much better."

Taehyung pursed his lips. Based on appearances alone, the man did seem imposing and fierce.

But people couldn’t be judged solely by their looks.

The yamen runners unfurled the crimson celebratory exam results list, and the crowd surged forward noisily to view the results, momentarily drowning out the splashing and cries for help from someone in the river.

Even if some noticed, they were pushed ahead by the throng behind them.

On the opposite riverside, however, a lone man seated in a teahouse had spotted the drowning person early on, yet he paid no heed.

Sprawled lazily by the railing with a view of the small bridge and flowing water, he had removed his plain black cloak and draped it aside. He lifted a blue-patterned teapot, poured a cup of autumn tea, and took a sip.

Tongzhou was refined in its tastes, treating even tea-drinking as an elegant affair. Compared to the large earthen bowls of bitter tea gulped down in the northwest to quench thirst, the delicate cup in his hand—barely holding any tea—was the very picture of leisure.

The northern war had ceased in May, and the army returned to court in June. After resigning from the military, Jungkook journeyed south in July.

Traveling at a leisurely pace, he had moved from the height of summer into autumn. Nearly two months later, he finally arrived in Tongzhou—a place praised by the world for its white walls and black tiles, clear waters, and lush mountains.

The rivers of Jiangnan meandered endlessly, threading through the city’s wide streets and narrow alleys.

Along the banks stood towering buildings and resplendent palaces, shops and inns packed tightly together like fish scales, merchants bustling like a group of fish crossing a river.

Men dressed in fine robes with jade pendants at their waists, women with jeweled hairpins adorning their buns. Whether the scenery or the people, everything dazzled the eyes of an outsider.

His comrades hadn’t lied to him—Jiangnan was prosperous and flourishing, a truly splendid place.

Jungkook drank three cups of tea in a row, the faint fragrance lingering on his lips, finally easing his thirst. Though the relief was slow, there was a refreshing aroma to it.

Amidst such scenery in this southern city, his spirit felt adrift. As an outsider, it was hard to muster the will to move, let alone jump into the water and get soaked.

Yet when Jungkook set down his cup, his peripheral vision caught sight of the figure in the river still flailing, unable to climb ashore, with no one coming to the rescue.

He frowned.

People from Jiangnan were born by the water—they ought to be strong swimmers. Who’d have thought there’d be such a land duck among them?

In broad daylight, drowning in the river by the bustling prefectural yamen would be nothing short of a joke.

Seeing the person beginning to sink, Jungkook’s eyes flickered.

Amidst the floating blossoms on the green water, a sudden splash erupted as a dark figure plunged into the river.

In the end, he couldn’t sit back and watch the spectacle unfold.

The person in the river was like a drifting weed, pushed wherever the current took them.