In the spring of the fourth year of Ganding, the newly appointed Grand Secretary Song Muchuan was finally getting married. For a man over thirty to marry for the first time was extremely rare among men of the Yu Dynasty. When the new dynasty was first established, he said the borders were unsettled and he had no time for romantic entanglements, so he threw himself entirely into court affairs, working conscientiously and devotedly to assist the new emperor.

In these years, besides revitalizing the court structure that was in ruins and awaiting renewal, the most urgent matter was dealing with the Qi people, seeking opportunities for ceasefire and peace negotiations.

Both sides repeatedly failed to reach agreement and overturned the table. The Qi people fought their way to the Yangtze River, but returned empty-handed under the Yu Dynasty’s determined resistance, so they sat down together again several times to begin new negotiations.

Huge contradictions also emerged within the Qi people. Since Xie Queshan’s identity was made public, Han Xianwang, who had promoted him, was convicted and exiled. Princess Imperial Wanyan Puruo, who had been at the height of her power, came under suspicion for employing Han ministers, and despite being imperial blood, still couldn’t avoid having her authority stripped away.

Furthermore, regarding peace negotiations, Wanyan Puruo and the old aristocrats who occupied half the court held completely different attitudes. Wanyan Puruo changed from her previous willingness to negotiate, striving to gather military forces for another battle. First, she dared not underestimate the Yu Dynasty’s military strength—to root out the threat completely, she couldn’t give them a chance to recuperate and secure a corner, otherwise it would be nurturing a tiger as a threat. Second, she wanted to wash away her previous disgrace. But the old aristocrats believed occupying the north was enough. War was costly to the people and treasury, and years of warfare had increasingly emptied the state coffers. At this time, they should seek stability and not take risks. Moreover, once territory expanded south, they would inevitably need to integrate and co-govern with the Han people, implementing Han systems and laws, which would instead bring trouble upon themselves.

Even more people opposed simply to oppose Wanyan Puruo.

The vast royal court ultimately couldn’t accommodate a woman who could match men in the political arena.

Any tiny mistake she made would invite greater backlash. Wanyan Puruo could have let go and returned to being her comfortable Princess Imperial, but she couldn’t let go of her political ideals and still wanted to fight with all her strength. She had struggled and tried to turn the tide, but ultimately suffered a crushing defeat. In the autumn of the third year of Ganding, she was confined to the Princess’s mansion and died mysteriously a month later.

Some said she committed suicide from depression, others said she was assassinated by political enemies. It ultimately became a palace secret case that outsiders could never investigate, but at the root, this legendary woman died under the blades of her own people, ending miserably.

Only after Wanyan Puruo’s death were the obstacles to peace talks completely removed.

During this period, the Retired Emperor, captured by the Qi people, died of depression. Song Muchuan strongly advocated bringing back the late emperor’s coffin and demanded the Qi people return the imperial clan. The two sides kept pulling back and forth over the terms, finally signing a treaty in Langping Prefecture north of the Yangtze River, delineating border limits, historically known as the “Langping Alliance.”

The following month, Song Muchuan personally served as envoy, leading troops to bring back some imperial clan members and the late emperor’s coffin, holding national mourning.

Among those who returned this time was also Xie Zhaoqiu.

That year, she had gone to Kaifeng with Nanyi, and after scheming to poison her father Xie Zhu, she herself was unable to withdraw in time due to poisoning and was subsequently found by Wanyan Puruo. Perhaps because of their past connection through painting, Wanyan Puruo didn’t blame her, but instead sought famous doctors to detoxify and treat her injuries.

After that, Sister Qiu had been under house arrest at Wanyan Puruo’s residence.

Wanyan Puruo didn’t harm her—there was no need to harm her—but she couldn’t let her go. With her strong personality, she would never hand over any prey she had caught, even someone as powerless as Xie Zhaoqiu.

Xie Queshan and Nanyi discussed with Song Muchuan several times how to rescue Sister Qiu, but at that time, during the negotiation phase between both sides, any carelessness might cause greater trouble. Sister Qiu also repeatedly sent back letters saying her life was not in danger, so they had to shelve their plans and wait for the situation to stabilize before gradually working on it.

Until the summer of the third year of Ganding, perhaps sensing the tide had turned, the lifelong strong-willed Wanyan Puruo, though at the end of her rope, showed great mercy and released Sister Qiu, letting her return with the restored imperial clan.

Xie Queshan and Nanyi set out with the army to bring home their family member who had been separated for three years.

From this point, the Yu Dynasty’s internal and external troubles finally had some relief. Song Muchuan had made great contributions and was promoted all the way to Grand Secretary. Among his clan elders, voices urging him to marry appeared again. Even Emperor Zhao would occasionally inquire about his marriage, hesitantly asking if he had any unspeakable difficulties.

After all, as the head of court ministers, his conduct couldn’t be too unconventional.

Moreover, “of the three forms of unfilial conduct, having no descendants is the worst”—for Song Muchuan, this was also mountain-like pressure.

He no longer had reasons to decline. Once he relented, things progressed magnificently. The marriage contract was with a江南 gentry family’s daughter who was perfect in every way.

Before the betrothal, Song Muchuan made a trip to Li Du Mansion.

Nanyi and Xie Queshan still lived in Li Du Mansion, hiding among common people as the most ordinary married couple. Neither could stay idle, and they were currently helping Bingzhu Bureau establish a more comprehensive intelligence system.

The Qi people still watched hungrily from the north. No one could guarantee they wouldn’t tear up the alliance and return someday, so they needed to be prepared.

As usual, they discussed official business.

When opinions differed, he and Xie Queshan argued until their faces were red, but when everything was settled and it was time to leave, he felt empty and hollow.

Xie Queshan had grown accustomed to Song Muchuan’s tearful farewells each time, as if they would part forever and never meet again in this lifetime.

But each time he patiently coaxed Song Muchuan away. His patience stemmed from guilt—the last parting had probably left too deep a shadow on Song Muchuan.

However, this time was slightly different. After seeing Song Muchuan off, Xie Queshan returned and handed Nanyi a box, saying Song Muchuan was returning something to her.

Opening it, she saw neatly stacked silver inside.

Nanyi thought in confusion for a long while before remembering that during Song Muchuan’s most destitute period, she had lent him some silver.

Such insignificant money—given their current relationship, did it need to be returned?

Lord Song was always so polite, she even felt… it was somewhat excessively formal.

But since it was all returned, she couldn’t chase after him to stuff it back into his hands, so she could only accept this burdensome silver.

Looking up, she saw Xie Queshan’s unclear, dark gaze. He probably wanted to ask something, but ultimately held back his words.

On the road leaving Li Du Mansion, Song Muchuan heard people in the streets and alleys discussing a rumor that had grown increasingly mythical: there was once a merchant surnamed Zhang whose business spanned north and south of the great river. The Qi Princess Imperial wanted to swallow his wealth, but Boss Zhang fearlessly gambled with the then all-powerful Princess Imperial. He calmly set up ten games, saying that if he lost even one, he would hand over all his family fortune to the Princess Imperial.

The Princess Imperial found this absurd and readily agreed. Then the dice boxes opened one by one, and Boss Zhang had amazingly won all ten bets—a miracle. He not only kept his fortune but also made the Qi people suffer a great loss.

The people, hearing this wonder, revered Boss Zhang as the “God of Fortune.” The trend of worshipping Boss Zhang swept from gambling dens into thousands of ordinary households. Even devout believers erected statues and built shrines, praying for Boss Zhang’s protection and good fortune’s favor.

Song Muchuan only smiled slightly. He naturally knew who was the instigator of these rumors.

Boss Zhang had loved excitement while alive, so she used the most exciting way, with his favorite kind of language, to make people remember him deeply.

She had always been a very warm person—no, an almost scorching person, with a shining, pure heart. Those who came near her would be lit up by her.

Song Muchuan was very happy for his close friend. His storm-weathered half-life had finally landed in a warm haven.

He was happy. Xie Chao’en deserved it.

But somehow, his departing steps stopped beneath that bridge. Years of past events had grown thin but remained vivid. Once, in his despair, he had plunged into the icy river water and been rescued by her, awakened with a single word.

He had harbored improper fantasies about those hands that pulled him upward.

Those moments of blushing when facing her, those times when he was infected by her courage, those within-reach yet self-loathing moments of ungentlemanly thoughts.

He had never told anyone how many undercurrents hid beneath his seemingly calm demeanor. In his heart, there was no better woman in the world than her.

He thought he could wait for the chance to declare his love aloud. He was loyal to the propriety and shame taught since childhood, constraining himself within narrow bounds, always thinking the present wasn’t the best time. But ever since Xie Queshan had obscurely confided his feelings, he understood that he and Nanyi shared a deeper, more fateful connection.

He felt disappointed yet relieved. For this insignificant feeling of his, he had always tried hard to forget.

Yet he still held onto their few connections with near-pious yet base determination. His delay in returning the silver she lent him was just wanting an excuse to seek her out again.

Today, these private thoughts that never saw daylight should flow with the river to the sea, never to return.

…

On the wedding day, Song Muchuan’s residence was filled with guests, toasts flowing freely. At the banquet, however, sat a table laden with fine dishes and filled with wine, but with no guests seated.

That was prepared for Pang Yu, for Xie Xiaoliu, for Zhang Yuehui, for Xie Queshan and Nanyi. Some of his close friends could never come again, while others couldn’t come. That Xie Queshan was still alive was a secret known only to very few.

Everyone who saw that table showed expressions of lament. Now the overall situation was settled and life was stable, but each empty seat proclaimed past tragedies.

On this joyous day, it still added a touch of sorrow.

After three rounds of wine, some became intoxicated. Looking at that empty table, they sighed over the spirited Three Heroes of Misty Rain from Kaifeng in those days. Most present were former northern ministers, all shedding tears, remembering the dynasty’s golden age. The north now was the homeland they had strained their eyes looking toward but could never return to.

No one knew whether Han cavalry would ever cross the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers again to return to their native soil.

The celebratory wine, mixed with longing and unwillingness, rolled down their throats in one gulp.

At midnight, when all guests had departed, the somewhat drunk Song Muchuan sat alone before that empty table.

After all these years, it seemed only he stood at the mountain peak, where it’s cold at the heights.

He raised his cup forlornly to the empty air. This sea of festive red was nothing but desolation. He finally couldn’t help but shed tears, when suddenly a cheerful voice rang out.

“Drinking alone is so boring.”

Song Muchuan looked up through tear-blurred eyes to see Nanyi and Xie Queshan appearing in the doorway.

“Not even waiting for us.”

The spring breeze brushed their faces as they came hand in hand—that was the best thing in the world.