The darkness gradually dispersed. A troop of seventeen or eighteen riders galloped out from within it, as if tearing open the last layer of curtain, with blue light spreading across the earth.

The leader extinguished the torch in his hand.

He said loudly: “There’s a teahouse up ahead. Not only does it have tea but also food, and there’s even a Tea Beauty inside. The steamed cakes she makes are delicious. Everyone can rest and reorganize there.”

The soldiers behind him shouted in unison. Hearing this, all their fatigue began to lift, and the atmosphere became lively.

“Master Zhong, you haven’t been to the capital in over ten years, right? Is that place still there?” someone shouted. “Don’t let us rejoice for nothing.”

Zhong Changrong looked back at that youngster and laughed heartily: “The world changes constantly, yet often remains the same. Even if that teahouse is gone, everyone won’t die of thirst! What’s there to fear? Just keep traveling.”

“But you gave everyone hope.” “Master Zhong, you’ll have to treat us then.” The soldiers clamored one after another.

These were all soldiers he had personally trained, familiar with him to the point of being disrespectful. Zhong Changrong didn’t find it strange.

He raised his riding whip: “Come on, if any one of you can overtake me, I’ll treat you all to drinks at the best tavern in the capital.”

As his words fell, weird shouts rose from behind, hooves flew, and the originally weary soldiers bounded off like sheep just released from the pen.

Zhong Changrong laughed loudly, shouted “you little brats,” cracked his whip and spurred his horse to chase after them.

Morning light illuminated the earth. Water boiling in large pots sent up steam, making the tea shed seem like a fairyland.

“Soldier masters, your tea.” An elderly woman came over carrying two teapots in both hands, calling out in a hoarse voice.

Seeing this old woman’s trembling appearance, the soldiers quickly stood up, scrambling to receive them. “Grandmother, we’ll do it ourselves.”

The old woman smiled and handed them the teapots: “Wait here, I’ll go cook noodles for you.”

Watching this old woman walk away trembling, the soldiers all looked at Zhong Changrong.

“Master Zhong, this is the Beauty you mentioned?”

“Master Zhong, your taste is truly unique.”

“Everyone don’t say that. Even Beauties grow old.”

The soldiers snickered quietly. Zhong Changrong glared at them: “Don’t talk nonsense. Obviously the owner has changed.”

He surveyed the surroundings. The teahouse was still the same old place, but the proprietors had changed. He didn’t know where that young couple had gone. This was probably what they meant by things remaining but people changing.

This teahouse was by the main road, so there were many customers. Before long it was full, filled with accents from all over.

Several soldiers couldn’t help looking around curiously, but were quietly stopped by Zhong Changrong.

“Near the capital, there are many people and mixed eyes. Everyone be cautious,” he said. “This isn’t like the border commandery where you can act freely, especially since we’re the General’s people.”

The soldiers quickly sat properly and withdrew their gazes.

One soldier couldn’t help lowering his voice to say: “Chief, I heard that back in the day, the General was quite prominent in the capital—”

Zhong Changrong’s expression darkened for a moment: “That’s all in the past. It’s been over ten years. No one remembers the General anymore—”

As his words fell, the people at the table behind them suddenly raised their voices.

“—So she won. Even the Third Prince invited her to participate in the literary gathering—”

This statement drew even more clamor from around them. Customers at other tables also asked one after another, “Really? She really won?” “How is that possible for a young woman?”

Being asked by so many people, the person who had spoken earlier became even more pleased: “Of course she won. Prince Zhongshan’s heir personally delivered the invitation on behalf of the Third Prince.”

The surrounding clamor grew even louder. “Impressive.” “These young women.” “This literary gathering will have some excitement to watch.”

While it was lively all around, Zhong Changrong’s table was completely silent. The soldiers quietly drank their tea, their eyes darting everywhere, ears perked up listening to these people and events rarely heard in the border commandery—the Third Prince, Prince Zhongshan’s heir, literary gathering—

The Third Prince was an imperial prince, yet everyone could discuss him freely. Sure enough, the capital was different from the border commandery. In the border commandery, the most discussed person was merely the Commandery Governor’s eldest son.

And listen to what these people were doing—literary gatherings! The border commandery didn’t have such things, only gatherings hosted by the Commandery Governor’s son and the Great General’s nephews—eating, drinking, carousing, then ending in brawls.

And the women—

Too impressive, too lively. This was truly at the foot of the Son of Heaven.

The soldiers listened excitedly to these unfamiliar topics, until one name drilled into their ears.

“—Chu Ling.”

Chu Ling? This name sounded somewhat familiar. The soldiers were momentarily stunned, but there were plenty of people in the world with the same name. With so many people in the capital, it wasn’t strange.

Just now Chief Zhong had said that after over ten years, things remained but people changed—the capital had long since forgotten the General.

They saw Chief Zhong eating noodles nonchalantly and calmly, slurping down half a bowl in one go.

So everyone continued with their ears perked up, those drinking tea drank tea, those eating noodles ate noodles.

“—Of course he’s extraordinary. That’s General Chu Ling. Back in his day, he caused much bigger commotions than these young women—”

With a spluttering sound, Zhong Changrong, who had just slurped down half a bowl of noodles, choked. Unable to cough it out, soup and noodles sprayed from his mouth and nose. The soldiers at the table reacted quickly, hugging their own bowls and dodging aside.

This commotion made people around look over. Seeing a middle-aged scarred face covered in food, some laughed, some looked disdainful, some were frightened by the scar and looked away—clearly a soldier from the border commandery who hadn’t seen the world, making such a fuss over noodles with egg added.

People paid no more attention and continued talking and laughing.

Zhong Changrong grabbed a soldier’s sleeve to wipe his face: “You little brats sure dodged fast.”

The soldiers were both amused and shocked. They gathered together again, asking in low voices: “Chief, are they talking about our General?”

There were plenty of people named Chu Ling. Could there coincidentally also be a General Chu Ling in the world?

Zhong Changrong gripped his chopsticks. This time he didn’t shovel more noodles into his mouth, his eyes uncertain and doubtful.

The voices around them answered for him.

“—General Chu Ling, you haven’t heard of him? Have you all forgotten? The first time he met His Majesty, he startled His Majesty right off his horse.”

“Hahaha, he was really reckless. So it’s not strange at all that his daughter now does such things.”

“But Chu Ling’s brave recklessness won His Majesty’s favor. At such a young age he was already leading troops as a general.”

“But Chu Ling also truly had ability. His military achievements were brilliant. If not for him, how would the King of Xi Liang have submitted and sent tribute every year?”

Hearing “Chu Ling, Chu Ling” over and over, and hearing about those events, it was certain, absolutely true—they were talking about their General, his elder brother, General Chu Ling.

Zhong Changrong bit his chopsticks, the scar on his face twitching, his eyes wide. Hadn’t things remained but people changed? Even the teahouse owner had changed, so why was the capital still talking about Chu Ling everywhere?

He almost thought time had flowed backward and he had returned to over ten years ago!

This was truly unbelievable!

……

……

Not just the roadside tea shed outside the capital—in many places still far from the capital, people were also discussing the fresh news from the capital.

Entering the Central Plains, even the smallest city was more prosperous and lively than the border commandery, with many exquisite taverns and teahouses.

In the most magnificent tavern in this city, customers came and went. One table had the most people, old and young, like a family—grandmother, grandfather, sons, and grandsons all present—but somehow something seemed off.

This large family wore extremely wealthy clothing, all in the city’s most fashionable styles. The fabric was excellent too, with gold hairpins, silver bracelets, and pearls. Even a seven or eight-year-old boy wore a heavy gold pendant—

The servants standing behind them were also dressed luxuriously.

These were wealthy people, very wealthy people.

“Don’t know which countryside nouveau riche they are,” a shop assistant chatted in a low voice with a regular customer, jerking his chin toward them. “As soon as they entered the city, they asked for the best tailor shops and gold and silver shops, then the whole family swarmed in and bought several chests worth, putting everything on their bodies at once.”

“What are they doing, traveling rich to appear poor?” The regular customer was puzzled. “This group has elderly and children—aren’t they afraid of flaunting wealth and getting robbed?”

The shop assistant smiled and shook his head: “Who knows? Maybe they’re used to being safe in the countryside and fear nothing.”

As they talked, they saw a young girl at that table beckoning.

The shop assistant quickly left the regular customer, calling out loudly, “Customer, coming!” and hurrying over.

These country folk were also quite generous with money. Good service could earn plenty of tips.

Hey, Jun Jiuling.

Jun Jiuling was my first novel to sell its film and television rights. For me, it holds extraordinary significance.

Although I know everyone has different views on adaptations, undeniably, film and television provide the strongest form of dissemination.

Of course, transforming words into images is a huge challenge, so I was quite anxious before it aired. But I was fortunate to meet a very good production company. President Gao was very sincere, screenwriter Shi Liang understands web novels well, and director Xie Ze has helmed period dramas, youth dramas, and the web novel adaptation Fuyao. They achieved maximum faithfulness at the intersection of television needs and the original work.

After it aired at eight o’clock tonight, I watched three episodes. Naturally it can’t be completely identical to the original, but when I saw the broken engagement, the pacing immediately picked up.

This is a different viewing experience. I know that for readers, there will inevitably be much discomfort, but I hope everyone will try to watch it. Speaking of this, when the broadcast was announced, I anxiously searched and saw someone say, “It’s Xi Xing! I read her books when I was young. A television drama is actually airing—I’ll watch it.” At that moment, my eyes became somewhat teary. I felt that youth hadn’t been wasted—it left a mark.

Friends, whether you like it or not, whether you look forward to it or not, please take a look. Friends who read Jun Jiuling back then, do you still remember our vote-seeking declaration when we pushed for first place in that chapter? I used Nalan Xingde’s poem:

I too am but a wild soul! By chance I find myself
In the dusty capital, among the gentry.
With wine I only pour libations on Zhao Zhou’s soil—who understands my intent?
I don’t believe we’ve truly become confidants.
With clear eyes and loud songs, we’re not yet old;
Before the wine cup, wiping away heroic tears.
Don’t you see? The moon is like water.
With you tonight I must get thoroughly drunk.
Let them—the slander of painted eyebrows,
From ancient times until now, all the same.
What does a floating life matter? Just laugh it off!
Thinking back, I regret from the beginning.
One day’s heart-bond lasts a thousand kalpas;
The next life’s fate may bind us in another existence.
Remember well: promises matter!

Jun Jiuling concluded four years ago. I hope more people will come to know it, and I hope those who know it will remember it longer, and longer still.

Thank you to all the production team’s efforts, thank you to the director and actors, thank you to the behind-the-scenes workers. Although by rights, I’m completely an observer to this drama and shouldn’t be the one giving thanks, after watching today, I still must say thank you.

Tonight, watching those moving figures on screen, seeing familiar names and familiar phrases, many memories surged up. I couldn’t help wanting to say: I miss you all, those of you who accompanied Jun Jiuling through its journey. Many are still reading Xi Xing’s works, many have grown up with other tastes and preferences, but in your memories there will still be those three words: Jun Jiuling. How fortunate Jun Jiuling is. How fortunate Xi Xing is.

Here, I bow in gratitude to you all.

I love you. Thank you for making Jun Jiuling what it became, for making Xi Xing the author she is.