It felt like dying and coming back to life—even recalling it now made his heart tremble. In his twenty-four years, he had never experienced such overwhelming joy. He felt his chest spasm, even breathing strained his tendons. Because he knew it was her, there was a deeply rooted satisfaction. He no longer needed to worry about anyone interfering. If Old Seven came to pester him again, he would loudly tell him that Ding Yi was his, and to get as far away as possible.

Like a child with a precious treasure, he couldn’t bear to let go for a moment. He held her waist, their noses touching, and called to her softly, “Are you asleep?”

She kept her eyes closed, refusing to speak. After a long while, she finally uttered a sound of acknowledgment. He examined her closely—her face was somewhat pale, but her lips were strikingly red. He wiped her cheek with his thumb. “What’s wrong? Are you still in pain?”

Embarrassed, she ducked down, disappearing under the blanket. He didn’t press her further, breaking into a delighted smile, murmuring: “I’m so happy… When we return to Beijing, we’ll prepare for the wedding. I won’t care about anything else—the Censorate, the Grand Council—let them all busy themselves. I need to settle my major life affairs first. Whatever comes after can wait.” He reached down to retrieve her, pulling her into his embrace, and rocking her gently. “Princess Consort, when we get home, you can see what needs to be added and instruct Guan Zhaojing to arrange it. The palace will bestow gifts—bedding and furnishings will be ready-made, no need to worry. Think about where you want to hold the ceremony. The Wen family mansion in Shaolao Hutong now belongs to the Vice Minister of Rites. I’ll ask Fourth Brother to help—Kangtai is one of his bondservants, so he can put in a word. We can take over that residence, giving you something to remember. How does that sound?”

He had considered things so far ahead, but Ding Yi couldn’t answer him. Anything she said would seem perfunctory. He was wholeheartedly devoted to her, while at this moment, she was calculating how to leave—she was truly failing him.

In truth, there wasn’t much to explain. She hadn’t left many traces; her coming and going were inconsequential. She simply couldn’t bear to leave him alone and lonely. Playing this trick on him would ensure he wouldn’t be happy for a while, at least. She had nothing to repay him with, so she gave herself to him—a conclusion to their half-year of feelings. For herself, it was a perfect completion. As for the future, she hadn’t thought about it. Perhaps she would never marry, one soul-stirring experience in life was enough. No one could replace him.

She caressed his forearm tenderly, her eyes half-closed, her languorous appearance carrying a seductive quality. “I’m drowsy. With all your chatter, how can I sleep?”

He quickly agreed, “We won’t discuss it now. We can talk after you’ve rested.”

Her body was bare, smooth as satin in the blankets, slowly entwining around him until his heart raced and his breath shortened. Young people always have endless energy. His rapid breathing was amplified infinitely by her ear as she gently stroked his broad shoulders and back. He ignited clusters of sparks on her body, burning downward. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, calling his name in a daze—half in pain, half in comfort. At least at this moment, she could make him happy. That was enough.

The sun’s shadow moved upward, approaching noon. It was the first day of the lunar year, and occasional sparse sounds of firecrackers could still be heard. Sha Tong stood at the corridor corner with his hands tucked away, waiting to report. After waiting so long that his legs grew weak, he turned to sit on a stone stump. Just as he sat down, he saw a figure wearing a crane-feather cloak appear in the corridor, as if materializing from thin air. The figure moved extremely fast, turning into a side passage and disappearing.

Puzzled, just as he was about to follow, someone called from behind: “Lord Lu ordered me to report back. Please inform His Highness the Prince that all hundred Aha in the barracks have been captured. Suo Lun Tu was caught alive on a prostitute’s embroidered bed in a brothel. Only Yue Kunde escaped—when we went to arrest him at his residence, it was already empty. Should we continue the thorough investigation, or should we submit a report to the court to issue a wanted notice? We await the Prince’s instructions.”

Sha Tong asked him to wait briefly, then bowed and entered the room. The chamber was quiet, with diamond-shaped patches of light from the window falling on the blue brick floor. Using the light to guide him, he approached, kneeling on the footstool to rouse the Twelfth Master, saying in a low voice: “Master, wake up. There’s news from Lu Yuan.”

Drifting between sleep and wakefulness, seeing the person before his kang, he felt annoyed. Hurriedly extending his hand to block the view, he grasped at emptiness. Turning his head in shock, he saw the bedding perfectly arranged, as if no one had ever been there. His mind went blank, unable to distinguish reality from dreams. His expression suddenly changed as he asked Sha Tong, “Where is she? Where did she go?”

Sha Tong was completely bewildered, responding in confusion: “What’s wrong, Master? Are you referring to Miss Wen? The young lady is still missing and hasn’t been found. Lu Yuan’s men just came to report that the Aha and Suo Lun Tu have been captured, but Yue Kunde slipped through the net. They’re still searching everywhere. Master, it appears Miss Wen’s disappearance is closely related to Yue. You should be cautious that he might try to use her to trade for his life…”

Hong Ce sat there, unable to come to his senses. Was it another dream? But it had been so clear—it couldn’t have been! Disregarding everything else, he waved his hand, throwing back the blanket. On the sheet was a pool of blood, already somewhat old, a deep, murky red. As if struck by lightning, he supported himself in panic, his body trembling.

Seeing his master in such a state, Sha Tong was stupefied, stammering: “Master, please cover yourself, you’ll catch a cold…” Following his master’s gaze, he looked closer and was stunned himself. What was going on? He anxiously checked the Twelfth Master’s body but found nothing wrong. Where had the blood come from? Considering that his master was completely undressed, could it be that a spirit had harmed him, or had Xiao Shu truly appeared?

Only Hong Ce knew that all her earlier words had deeper meanings—she had come to say farewell and might never return. What exactly had happened? His heart felt as if trampled by countless carriage wheels, already shattered between gain and loss. If she had to leave, why leave him with such a memory? How was he to spend the next decades of his life?

He grabbed his clothes, haphazardly buttoned them, and stumbled out of bed. His feet gave way, nearly causing him to fall, fortunately caught by Sha Tong. Ignoring all words of consolation, he pointed outside, his speech disjointed: “Arrest the innkeeper of the Cloud Pavilion. This inn has secret passages. Make him confess the truth, or he’ll be immediately executed by slow slicing! Deploy more troops to capture Yue Kunde. If caught, this Prince will be rewarded handsomely. If he escapes, the entire army will be punished without mercy!”

Sha Tong acknowledged and ran out. Hong Ce dressed himself, fumbling with the buttons, unable to align them properly. He was extremely agitated as if his entire being was on fire. The bitterness reached its extreme, tears falling silently. So his feelings meant so little to her? If she encountered difficulties, why not tell him? After entrusting herself to him, what could she still be concealing?

His mind was in such turmoil that he couldn’t make sense of anything. After the confusion subsided, upon calming down, he vaguely sensed something wrong. What circumstances in this world could force her to leave without saying goodbye? He drew a sharp breath—could it be that a Wen family brother was still alive? Perhaps she couldn’t choose between family and love, leaving her body to him while silently departing herself? If so, he felt resentful and wronged, but what about her? She must be suffering a hundred times more than him.

Later, his days in Ninguta became a blur in his memory, spent in endless searching. The person was never found, but he was certain that the border defenses were so tight that not even a fly could escape—she must still be within Da Ying territory. He assigned a team specifically to investigate Yue Kunde’s background. Nothing remains secret forever, and they eventually confirmed that Yue Kunde was Wen Ru Jian. Of the three brothers, only he survived. He hated the court and the Yu Wen clan, so when he found his sister, he took her away from Hong Ce’s side, effortlessly taking half his life.

The investigation into the imperial manor’s slave trafficking, starting with Suo Lun Tu, was resolved without much effort. Deputy Commander Dao Qin was found guilty of corruption and stripped of his rank, to be escorted to the capital for trial. Originally scheduled to depart in early March, Hong Ce delayed, fearing that once he left, he would miss her, though she might have long since departed. Old Seven wanted to issue an arrest warrant, but he stubbornly refused. Hong Tao only knew he wanted to find his “Shu’er” back, not understanding what waves would be stirred if the Wen family resurfaced under such circumstances. At that point, those searching for them would not only be imperial forces but possibly others as well. He couldn’t let her fall into danger.

For a time, he truly felt overwhelmed, hoping every day only to be disappointed. She was like a dewdrop, evaporating without a trace. Without possession, there would be no desire. She had taught him how to love someone, then disappeared herself. For him, this harm was unprecedented, even surpassing his childhood exile to Khalkha.

He had wanted to stay in Ninguta, but his responsibilities as an imperial envoy couldn’t be neglected. Regardless of how unable he was to let go of his personal feelings, for the sake of public duty, he had to conclude the case, to not disappoint the trust of the court and the Emperor.

The return journey was smooth, with the climate improving as they traveled south. It was the season of spring flowers, and sometimes when they couldn’t reach a postal station, they would camp by a lake, which wasn’t too uncomfortable.

Old Seven had lost his “bird master” but had a painted thrush and a robin as mementos, reminding him of her. He cared for them himself, often sighing to them, “How lucky you two are, surviving and returning despite the cold. What about your sister? She’s gone, she’s flown away…”

Hong Ce didn’t want to hear these words. His heart sinking, he turned and walked into the distance.

He had always had a premonition that as long as she was alive, she would return sooner or later. Wait a bit longer, perhaps tomorrow, the day after… His only hope now was to quickly clear Wen Lu’s name. Since Wen Ru Jian didn’t trust the court, he would prove it to him. If he performed well enough, perhaps he would let Ding Yi return to reunite with him.

Old Seven’s attitude had changed at some point. Seeing Hong Ce’s worried expression, he would scold: “You’re a prince, even one rank higher than me. Can’t you show some spirit? Letting someone reduce you to such a sorry state, I’m embarrassed for you! A real man never worries about lacking a wife. Once back in Beijing, we’ll both marry at once, fill the house to the brim—then you won’t remember anything!” He also cursed Xiao Shu: “That ungrateful wolf! Two princes, brothers, both gave her their hearts. Whatever star she wanted, we wouldn’t dare offer the moon instead. Yet she’s still not satisfied, leaving without a word. Is there a better husband waiting for her outside?”

Hong Ce frowned, cutting him off: “Don’t speak of her that way. She has her difficulties.”

Old Seven stared blankly, finally concluding: “Foolish brother, in Khalkha, not only were your ears deafened by the explosion, but your mind was also damaged.” In truth, he was hurting too. Most of those harsh words were meant for his ears. With hands behind his back, he slowly walked to a secluded place, sitting for an entire night, where no one could find him.

After another four or five months of travel, they reached Beijing on the day of the Cold Dew solar term. “July’s fires recede, September brings warmer clothes.” At the fifth watch, he reported at the court chambers, the stone blue court robe clinging coldly to his skin. Sitting by the window, he slowly fingered his court beads. A corner of the window lattice gradually turned red, captivating his gaze. Court officials, seeing his return, came forward to pay respects. He stood, cupping his hands in return, still maintaining a polite but distant demeanor.

Just as he sat down, another person entered, face full of smiles, respectfully performing a deep bow, addressing him as “Twelfth Uncle” with a grin. “Your nephew pays his respects.”

He smiled thinly. “Is the Sixth Prince well?”

The Sixth Prince was the Empress’s darling son, thirteen this year. His formal title included a character, but everyone had grown accustomed to calling him “Tiger Prince.” At his neither-here-nor-there age, considered half-grown, he should have been strictly disciplined according to the Imperial Study’s regulations. However, with his father’s favor, he was more lively than his other brothers.

He approached sheepishly. “Thank you for asking, Twelfth Uncle. I’m very well, except for recent troubles. I’ve been looking for a chance to speak with you. You’ve been away from the capital for over a year—it’s a shame my father wouldn’t let me go. I should have followed you to learn how to handle affairs.”

Hong Ce looked at him affectionately. “You wouldn’t have been suitable. Too young. That place is cold and harsh. You would only have suffered.”

“My father lived in a cave dwelling in northern Shaanxi at twelve. You went to Khalkha at twelve. The older generation suffered from humble beginnings. Why can’t I?”

The Sixth Prince was like a newborn calf, full of energy, unable to appreciate his father’s deep parental love. Hong Ce smiled: “Our circumstances then were different from now. If you want to learn to handle affairs, do it gradually. Start from the Jiangnan region, progress from easy to difficult, avoiding unnecessary hardship.” Changing the subject, he continued, “The northern regions aren’t pleasant, without much entertainment. I’ve brought each of you brothers a buffalo bone bow. I’ll have someone deliver them to you later.”

The Sixth Prince made a sound of acknowledgment, then leaned closer, lowering his voice: “Twelfth Uncle, my father has bestowed a title on me. I’m not even fifteen yet, but my mother thinks I’m too rowdy and wants to send me out of the palace to establish my household. That’s not the issue—but once I set up my establishment, I must take a princess consort. They say they need someone to manage me. I don’t want to. What if I meet a woman I truly love in the future? Look at this year’s selection—twenty girls have been retained in the palace. Not just for me, but also for the princess consorts of you and Thirteenth Uncle, all from this selection. I asked Thirteenth Uncle, but he played dumb, saying whoever loves whom should marry them. I don’t have that courage. You’re of the same generation as my father—perhaps there’s room for negotiation. If you all refuse, I can ride on that momentum.”

He was somewhat surprised. “Where did you hear this?”

The Sixth Prince replied: “The whole palace knows. Don’t ask where I heard it. The fact remains. You’re all of age—even an arranged marriage wouldn’t be unreasonable. But I’m only thirteen. Is bringing someone in just for the show? My mother creates problems daily, yet my father still listens to her… Twelfth Uncle, what are your plans? Will you comply or resist? Give me a definite answer.”

His expression remained calm as he smoothed the wrinkles on his knee. “I already have someone in my heart. I’ll submit a memorial for the Emperor’s review.”