Misfortune begins the moment you discover someone else is happier than you.

Lately, Chen Dasheng had found himself constantly thanking his wife amid all this endless digging — if she hadn’t passed on to him that peculiar brand of luck, he was certain he’d have died tunneling underground by now.

He even swore that in this lifetime he’d never kill another rat again — no, not even field mice — it was all just too hard on everyone.

He alone did the work of ten men, digging tunnels by day and sneaking out at night to find food, medicine, and haul water for the group.

At first, the news from the Sun Palace hadn’t been good — sounds of fighting had rung out through an entire night. Three days later the caravan left the area, and Chen Dasheng had trailed them the whole way, confirming that Xie Wuhao wasn’t among them.

Could it be? Had he died?

This weighed heavily on his heart, and the brothers grieved as well. They gathered up the hair Xie Wuhao had shaved off and decided to build him a memorial grave once they returned home.

They’d even thought — this was only the first. Who would be the second, no one knew — but everyone had to die smiling. Xie Wuhao had set a fine precedent; the rest of them had no excuse to feel sorry for themselves now.

A few more days passed, and the Sun Palace’s defenses seemed to relax, everything returning to normal. If Xie Wuhao didn’t turn up today, Chen Dasheng had resolved to sneak in that very night to search.

The moment he laid eyes on Xie Wuhao, Chen Dasheng felt the world was truly full of joy — the kind of thing that only happened in stage plays.

But in the very next moment, he began to feel the world wasn’t so joyful after all.

By Tan custom, whether gathering or parting, everything should happen the instant sunlight touched the earth.

And so, early that morning, a number of carriages emerged from the Sun Palace, stopping once again at the shore of Tar’er Lake, where they began erecting a platform. From the most magnificent of those carriages, Chen Dasheng spotted Xie Wuhao.

In that instant his feelings were a tangled mess, impossible to put into words. And Xie Wuhao’s current situation — well, that too was impossible to put into words.

It was a fine, sunny day. The people who came out from the Sun Palace built a moisture-proof wooden platform on the lakeshore, and once it was finished, the Tan people layered it with six full tiers of luxurious carpets, each softer than the last.

However fine Daliang’s weaving skills were, Chen Dasheng had to admit that when it came to carpet-making, the Tan people were unmatched.

The Tan homeland backed onto snow mountains, with grassland stretching in three directions — no crops, just various wild grasses; aside from the occasional shrub, the plains couldn’t even grow a single respectable tree.

So if the Tan people wanted to improve their standard of living, they had to raid Daliang, or buy goods at steep prices from Matini traders — beyond herding livestock, they had no other source of income.

Chen Dasheng even began to feel that the Tan people treated Daliang like a little piggy bank — whenever they ran short of money, they simply gave it a shake.

The Tan slaves finished laying the carpets, then unloaded half a cart’s worth of richly foreign-scented cushions of every color — the kind of finely made cashmere cushions you’d fall asleep on the instant you lay down. In truth, Tan women had their own traditional craft too, skillfully weaving elaborate floral patterns with small sticks — though they might only finish a few inches a year.

The platform’s edges were hung with Tan woven florals, and an elegant sun-shade canopy was raised overhead. In the shaded areas, exotic fruits of every strange shape, traditional Tan delicacies, and fine wines were casually laid out, and even a soft-featured eunuch sat off to the side, playing music without pause.

Yes, Chen Dasheng recognized a eunuch at a glance — he held no contempt for eunuchs, either, and this one’s music was genuinely pleasant to listen to.

The grandest luxuries beneath the snow mountains had been laid out here, and that damned Xie Wuhao was being carried out to enjoy it all by that tall Gaofeixi’ao woman.

Six people carried him out on a soft litter, something like an oversized baby cradle.

In that instant, Chen Dasheng suddenly felt distinctly unhappy.

Here he was, like a rat in a grave pit, while that man lay on soft cushions being fed and watered by that woman — he didn’t even have to lift a finger. He only had to glance, and she’d reach into a pile of grapes and pick out the one that had caught the most sunlight, then… in the eyes of a Daliang man, shamelessly kiss it first, before finally feeding it into Xie Wuhao’s mouth.

Xie Wuhao didn’t move a muscle. He ate grapes, drank fine wine, then ate sweets after the wine… on and on without end. It was really too much.

But little did they know, Xie Wuhao was eating in utter despair — he knew full well those damned brothers of his were hiding somewhere in the reeds, watching him make a fool of himself, which only made his mood worse than bad.

Yitina leaned against the cushions, affectionately taking Little Grape’s hand and kissing the back of it. She loved pressing the back of her hand against his smooth, delicate cheek, greedily gazing at what she considered the most beautiful pair of dark eyes in the world.

Xie Wuhao, however, had no wish to look at her — he stared instead at the waterbirds far off over the lake, darting away, swooping back, snatching up a fish and carrying it off, then returning again… over and over.

If only he were a bird. Even the smallest one would do.

A gust of wind blew past, carrying a chill, and Xie Wuhao began to cough. Perhaps the movement was too much — it pulled at the wound in his abdomen, and a sharp jolt of pain shot through him. He slowly closed his eyes, breathing carefully, forcing himself to relax, cold sweat rolling down his forehead — yet he made no sound at all. This was nothing; as a man of the martial world, he’d endured far worse wounds than this.

But then that damned woman scooted closer again, showering kisses on his forehead, the tip of his nose, his lips, murmuring words in a tone thick with intimacy. He could understand some of it now — ah, this shameless creature.

He still barely knew this woman, yet — heavens — that first night he’d genuinely mistaken her for a certain kind of woman. It wasn’t that he’d been blind; it was simply that Daliang’s wealth and refinement were a hundred times more understated than this — he hadn’t recognized what wealth looked like among the Tan people.

He’d even planned to wake up and hand her a large gem in payment. But before he’d even gotten half a night’s sleep, his whole world turned upside down.

Surely this was a dream? To think of himself — a Chief Enforcer of Jiu Si Tang, an official of the imperial court… ah, there was no going back now. He was soiled, unclean — he’d slept with a hairy foreign woman.

This was surely payback for all his years of carefree wandering.

Yitina pressed her forehead to Xie Wuhao’s, feeling no fever, and let out a long breath, smiling. “Poor Giulio, my lucky Giulio. Thank goodness your fever’s broken — I was so afraid I’d lose you. I was truly frightened.”

She pulled the blanket up to cover his bandaged, handsome waist — the curve of Little Grape’s waist was the most beautiful, the firmest she’d ever seen.

Unable to resist, she trailed a finger along his waist. Xie Wuhao, knowing he was being teased again, opened his eyes in irritation and glared at her, a dark, wicked, quiet gleam flickering out from his gaze. The wound that ran clean through him ached fiercely, sweat rolling down his forehead, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, and his freshly stubbled head turned away to the side.

Yitina laughed softly, leaning in to brush his forehead. “Darling, what are you thinking? Angry that I disturbed your rest? But we must leave now. I’m sorry — I never meant to upset you. You must forgive me.”

She gazed at him, besotted, well aware he was angry, yet utterly unwilling to let go. Gaofeixi’ao women lived out their lives, generation after generation, like legless worms — forever unable to crawl out of the gutter. Since she was old enough to understand, she’d known she was destined to become a pawn to secure her brother’s rule; she too had harbored fierce ambitions, but the world had no room for them, nor was she permitted to hold such thoughts.

She’d grown up, married off to a repulsive man twenty-five years her senior. The years that followed were hell — that old devil truly was a monster. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she’d taken matters into her own hands, choosing to remain a widow for the rest of her life rather than take another husband.

Her brother was king of Gaofeixi’ao, and she’d smoothly inherited the old man’s estate — only to find that his nephew coveted it all as well.

Ah, how had all this come to be?

That night, half-drunk, she’d leaned by the window looking for something to occupy herself, when this boy happened to wander in from outside and, by chance, crossed her path. She’d tossed down some fruit to tease him, and in doing so, glimpsed the most exquisite complexion in the world — a mixed-blood child of Matini and Eastern descent. His life must have been hard — so poor he owned nothing but a single sheet, yet his eyes shone like stars, brimming with the greatest warmth this world had to offer.

He’d smiled at her.

She loved things that were pure and unspoiled. She’d smiled back.

Then, unexpectedly, the boy had climbed the palace wall straight up to her bedroom. What happened after that? Yes — she’d become infatuated with his body; he smelled wonderful too, his skin possessing a fineness and firmness she’d never encountered before. She’d given him wine to drink, gotten the poor child thoroughly drunk, and everything followed from there.

He’d been so gentle, cradling her carefully, his eyes fixed solely, earnestly on her. No one had ever treated her with such tenderness, as though she were a treasure.

Then those damned assassins had burst into her bedroom to kill her. He was a boy who’d never known love before, wasn’t he — he’d fallen for her at first sight, so much so that even she hadn’t expected it; he’d gripped her hand tightly and fled with her through the Sun Palace, fighting to protect her, until finally he collapsed to the ground drenched in blood, still smiling at her and saying, “Run!”

She hadn’t run. Never again would she run.

She decided, from that moment on, she could never let him go — she would lay the whole world at his feet. As for that damned, feigning-ignorance Kunlunsai, she didn’t believe for a second that the master of the Sun Palace knew nothing about it. Whatever excuses he offered, the Tan people owed the great Gaofeixi’ao people an answer.

She had devoted her entire life to the throne — her brother Meidel owed her an answer too.

The ground suddenly began to tremble. Xie Wuhao, eyes closed, snapped them open — his perpetually blank face finally showing a flicker of surprise. Yitina burst out laughing.

She cradled his head, pressed a firm kiss to his forehead, then plucked the candy he’d just popped into his mouth right back out and popped it into her own, laughing as she said, “When I return, that old devil won’t be able to buy me off cheap.”

With that, the damned woman left.

Xie Wuhao turned his head with a sigh and saw countless heavily-armored troops pouring in from the distant plains, a great black mass of them… What was happening?

Something occurred to him, and his eyes flew wide open. He tried to sit up, only to fall back weakly from the pain in his abdomen. After some time had passed, he murmured, “Surely not… she means to take me with her?”

There came a faint rustling nearby, and Xie Wuhao heard his brothers whisper, “Hey? Are you… alright?”

The past few days’ experiences left Xie Wuhao too embarrassed to speak of them, but he had to explain everything that needed explaining — if things were as he suspected, his time was running short.

So he said, “Ah~ you saw everything, huh?!”

Clever as he was, Chen Dasheng couldn’t begin to fathom what had happened, so the group obediently crouched at the edge of the platform, hidden in the taller reeds, waiting for Xie Wuhao’s explanation.

Xie Wuhao propped himself up halfway, holding his stomach, and shooed the eunuch and slaves far away before lying back down, muttering something to cover himself: “You all reek!”

Chen Dasheng carefully poked out his filthy, oversized head and asked with concern, “Were you hurt?”

Xie Wuhao nodded, turning his face toward Chen Dasheng. “Ah, that Tan spear — went clean through me. Oh, our wound medicine? These savages only know how to use some random junk… hiss, it hurts like hell, damn it!”

Chen Dasheng tossed a bottle of medicine onto the platform; Xie Wuhao tossed down a map drawn on a handkerchief.

Chen Dasheng lay flat, glanced at it, and asked with some confusion, “What’s this?”

Xie Wuhao stared up at the sky for a long while without speaking, and only once the iron-clad troops had rumbled past behind him did he say, looking half ready to die, “A map.”

Chen Dasheng was startled. “A map?”

“Mm, a map. Part of the Sun Palace, mapped out. The spot marked in red — that’s King Gongjitan’s place. Oh, his name’s Kunlunsai. You’ll never guess what that guy looks like…”

Chen Dasheng tucked the map away, not bothering to ask about King Gongjitan’s appearance, but asked with concern instead, “These past few days — what exactly happened to you?”

Xie Wuhao’s expression turned strange as he struggled to recall that night…

The sun had been setting; he’d just finished bathing and was strolling through the Sun Palace, smelling fresh and clean, when a woman called out to him from a window and tossed him a piece of fruit.

Who knew what he’d been eating during that stretch — forget fruit, he’d been tempted to chew on grass. Grateful, he’d smiled up at her, then spotted a crowd of Gaofeixi’ao people and Tan warriors patrolling the street.

He couldn’t run, and he couldn’t afford to be questioned, so hearing the woman’s reckless giggling overhead, he hadn’t thought twice — he’d simply scrambled nimbly up the wall.

He remembered clearly — the woman lived in quite a nice bedroom. He’d thought, not bad at all — there was even Daliang silk hanging from the bed curtains. How long had it been since he’d seen anything from home?

So he’d assumed this must be some high-class Tan brothel, and this rather good-looking woman with the sheep’s-wool curls must be the star courtesan raking in money for some madam.

These past days, his nerves had been wound tight — he’d endured the worst suffering of his first twenty-some years. Peering over the wall and seeing heavily-armored warriors surrounding the place, he’d figured — well, tonight I’ll just have to lodge at the brothel. Thank goodness Old Chen had the foresight to send him out with plenty of gold and gems.

Might as well make the best of it — so he’d drunk the woman’s wine. Truth be told, he’d once been a carefree rogue drifting through life, only settling down once he took a wife. Who could have known a woman’s life was so fragile — his wife had borne him a son, then fallen gravely ill, passing away just months later.

From the moment his wife left this world, Xie Wuhao had truly come to feel that a woman’s life was no easy thing.

He’d gotten a bit tipsy, and — well — slept with the woman.

Honestly, this foreign woman had quite a flavor to her — same as a cat, but this one was more like a lynx. He’d admit the experience had felt good at first, satisfying, spicy even. He’d even thought he’d wake the next morning and give her a couple of gems, the biggest kind he had.

But never in a million years could he have guessed — this woman in the vivid crimson gauze dress was the very owner of those boots.

Every time he thought back on that night, Xie Wuhao wanted to beat himself senseless over and over.

Halfway through the night, assassins had come. He’d assumed he’d been discovered, then saw someone trying to cut her down and, thinking he’d dragged her into danger, had grabbed her and fled — in the process running the entire length of the Sun Palace top to bottom. Cough, well, call it reconnaissance, surveying the terrain…

After that, things had only gotten stranger. He wasn’t a fool — he’d soon realized he wasn’t the actual target; the courtesan beside him was the real target…?

She’d run for her life, sweat streaming down her face, smiling at him — smiling my ass, he’d thought, I’ve had eight lifetimes of bad luck to run into a jinx like you, are you my doom incarnate…

His mind had been a chaotic mess of thoughts at the time. He’d fought, dodged, hidden, and finally her reinforcements arrived. Once he was sure she was safe, his plan had been simple — fake his death and slip away.

And so, he’d taken a spear thrust meant for her, dead-on… that spear was meant for killing horses, damn her ancestors to the ninth generation.

He’d secretly pressed a pressure point to stop the bleeding, taken some wound medicine, and prepared to feign death and flee — but the woman, tears streaming down her face, had screamed a torrent of words at him.

That’s when he’d finally recognized the voice. The owner of those boots.

With every ounce of strength he had left, he’d told her: run… I’m begging you, just go, leave me be.

He’d feigned unconsciousness, then had his wound thoroughly mangled by so-called treatment — the damned Tan people had no physicians, only witch doctors, who’d chanted and danced around him while he burned with fever, even bleeding him further… truly a brush with death he never wanted to relive. The assassins hadn’t managed to kill him, but the barbarians’ medicine nearly finished the job. If not for his deep inner cultivation, who knew how many days he’d have lain there cold…

What happened afterward was simple enough. The Matini man he’d been impersonating was apparently named Giulio? Well, something close to that sound anyway. The woman had sent the Matini away and, looking rather apologetic, informed him that from now on, he wasn’t allowed to leave her side?

Should he feel grateful? At the very least, his cover as a Matini was now permanently blown.

Xie Wuhao had lain there feeling like life had lost all meaning, drifting in and out of consciousness, forcing himself to stay sharp and gather intelligence. The woman kept insisting she’d give Kunlunsai a lesson sooner or later… he’d assumed she was bluffing, but… it seemed she wasn’t. She really had extorted a huge sum of money — who would’ve guessed this foreign woman had such a sharp mind. A stalling tactic, maybe?

Chen Dasheng and the others struggled to keep up with Crazy Xie’s rambling complaints — honestly, some of it made no sense at all. How was anyone supposed to believe this?

Once Xie Wuhao finished, he let out a long breath. “Well, believe it or not, that’s how it happened. She says she’s going to avenge me? Oh, and King Gongjitan is a dried-up skinny old man, missing half his right ear — don’t mix him up with anyone else. These past few days he kept coming to our door, seemed pretty scared of Yinina.”

“Yinina?”

“…The one you all saw. She seems to be some kind of Gaofeixi’ao… tsk, I don’t really know, but she’s clearly formidable. These past few days, I’ve seen King Gongjitan show up more times than I can count, and that woman just slams the door on him…”

Xie Wuhao lay on his side, gazing helplessly toward the distant Sun Palace. “From the feel of things, the smell of it — I don’t think there’s going to be a fight. The relations between foreign powers beyond the Tan River snow mountains are far more complicated than we imagined. Brother Chen, did you see their weapons?”

Chen Dasheng crawled to the edge of the platform and, using Xie Wuhao as cover, stared toward the Sun Palace for a long, silent moment.

They’d known for a while now — the Gaofeixi’ao people’s ironworking and smelting skills were formidable…

After a long silence, Chen Dasheng said grimly, “The Tan people can’t be pacified — only thrown into chaos. Without the Tan… next would come the Gaofeixi’ao…”

Xie Wuhao had realized the same thing. He nodded with a sigh. “That woman’s blade — even in an amateur’s hands, I’d guess it could cut through at least fifteen layers of hardened leather. We — our Daliang needs technology like that!”

Chen Dasheng froze, then whipped his head around to stare at Xie Wuhao.

Xie Wuhao was smiling. He slowly extended his fist, and Chen Dasheng bumped it with his own. “…I’ll report everything honestly to His Majesty. It’s just — you…”

Xie Wuhao laughed. “Ah, it’s fine. You’ve all seen it — I’m practically nobility now. Heh~ I don’t even have to peel my own grapes anymore. I’ll go with her…”

Not knowing when — or if — he’d ever return.

The great hawks perched on the Sun Palace’s cliffside suddenly took flight together, circling above the palace…

Xie Wuhao chuckled softly. “I’ll do whatever it takes — before I fall out of favor, I’ll bring that blade back to Daliang.”

With that, he pointed toward a section of the city wall. “Over there is the Sun Palace’s outer perimeter — it’s chaotic in there, which makes it safe. That’s where the Tan slaves and low-ranking servants gather. You can get in through there…”

“Get in — no one watching?”

“Right! I’ve observed it. Most of those poor people own nothing but an old sheet. Wrap yourselves in sheets, sleep out a hollow in the outer streets, and no one will question you at all… I’ll definitely be going with that woman. As for the Tan people — once Kunlunsai’s head rolls, there’ll surely be infighting among them. Just wait quietly. It’s not as large in there as it looks from outside, not as tightly guarded either — heaven’s blessing on Daliang. Brothers, just proceed as originally planned.”

Chen Dasheng fell silent for a long while, then finally let out a helpless laugh. “So, all that digging was for nothing?”

Something occurred to Xie Wuhao and he laughed too, clutching his side, coughing and gasping. “Don’t— don’t make me laugh!”

Chen Dasheng nodded, unusually docile. “Yes, yes, no more teasing, sir.”

“Sir?”

“Ah, sir! Any further orders, sir?”

“If possible… hire a few more Matini for me, and open some shops for me in the border city, in Jindanchu. I need to keep receiving news from home.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

“I have… a son. And my younger brother.”

“He’ll receive the best care — he’ll be my godson. Your brother will be our brother.”

“Thank you. When you go back this time… build me a grave marker…”

Xie Wuhao didn’t finish his sentence. In the distance, the urgent sound of hoofbeats rose, drawing closer and closer.

Chen Dasheng rolled into the marsh at once; Guo Xinyuan quickly crawled over and bumped fists with Xie Wuhao. As he pulled away, he said to him, “Old Xie, we’ll keep your spot for you.”

Xie Wuhao smiled, didn’t nod, but slowly settled back into place and closed his eyes.

In his mind, he calculated how quickly the others were making their escape. Once he sensed no one was watching, he raised an arm to shield his eyes — he’d expected the grief to hit him hard, but no tears fell.

Yitina returned with her spoils, radiant with triumph. Leaping down from her horse, she had her attendants carry the largest chest over to Xie Wuhao.

Before she even arrived, Xie Wuhao could smell the thick reek of blood clinging to her.

He couldn’t hide a flicker of aversion. Yitina stopped some distance away and called out, “Hey! Sweetheart, look what I brought you!”

She opened the chest beside her, revealing it full of jewels, and smiled at Xie Wuhao. “I’ve won you compensation — all of this is yours now…”

Xie Wuhao blinked, not even glancing at the treasure, and asked Yitina seriously instead, “Did you… kill someone?”

Yitina nodded, unbothered. “Yes. With my own hands. Every single one!”

She tossed her outer robe to an attendant, sniffed at her arms on both sides, satisfied there was no lingering smell, then smiled — an unconscious air of royal authority creeping into her voice. “I never used to do things like this. Now it turns out… it’s really not that hard.”

She had personally executed all the traitors, along with the Tan collaborators involved. That damned Kunlunsai had handed over a massive sum in compensation, too frightened to even show his face.

That was something, at least — this time she hadn’t relied on her brother at all. From start to finish, she’d pulled through and come to this realization entirely on her own strength.

She sat down on the platform, and a slave came to tug off her tall boots.

Then, cross-legged, the woman gazed toward the distant Sun Palace with a satisfied smile. “I need to make them understand — I’m not someone to be trifled with. After all, there’ll never be another person in this world willing to lay down his life for me the way you did.”

She turned to smile at Xie Wuhao. “Giulio, I’ll take you back to my fief. There, no one will ever dare say a word against you.”

Xie Wuhao lounged lazily against the cushions, gazing at Yitina. After a long moment, he said with a faint laugh, “Sorry, I didn’t catch a word of your Gaofeixi’ao language.”

He rarely smiled.

Yitina glanced at the great chest of jewels — her little boy didn’t spare it a single glance. She thought back to that night, the way he’d climbed the wall, the way he’d dragged her through a horde of assassins to fight them off…

She smiled too, slowly climbing over to sit beside Xie Wuhao, reaching out to trace his eyebrow, murmuring, “I know… you’re not Giulio. But what does that matter? I think you should properly learn our language. From now on… you’ll only ever get to speak with me.”

In the fourth year of Yong’an, in a foreign land, everyone smiled as they severed themselves from the past.

No one shed a tear.