Xiao Shaotang writes first
The drift has swallowed your carriage wheels to the axle, and the driver has given up swearing. Then the ground trembles. A column of riders from Prince Yan Bei’s residence comes out of the white, shovels and spears across their saddles, and the one at the front swings down before his horse has fully stopped.
“Stuck?” He’s tall and wind-burned, with snow in his dark hair, and he grins up at your window as if this is the best thing to happen all morning. “Good. I was getting bored of digging out empty road.”
He shouts to his men, puts his own shoulder to the wheel and heaves. The carriage lurches free. He knocks the snow off his gloves and comes back to the window.
“Xiao Shaotang. You’re headed into Yun Yang City?” His eyes narrow, curious. “There’s a Ren family carriage two li ahead. The Fifth Miss sent a servant back to tell me someone was stranded on this road, before my own scouts did.” He laughs, short and delighted. “How do you suppose she knew? You’re one of hers, aren’t you?”