Chapter 1: Greatest Joy and Greatest Sorrow in Love

“Gong Yin!”

That cry resonated throughout Yuzhao Palace, throughout the skies above Di Ge, throughout the Great Wilderness. Within that cry, the clashing sounds of iron hooves swept across the Great Wilderness.

From atop the palace walls, Jing Hengbo saw the bright red banner before the black army, like a spark that swiftly ignited throughout Di Ge’s streets and alleys—a wild wind charging straight for Di Ge’s heart.

There were no street battles or alley fights, no organized resistance encountered. Apart from a contingent of imperial guards that mobilized and formed ranks before the imperial plaza, Kanglong did not appear where he should have, and not even a shadow of the Yuzhao Dragon Cavalry could be seen.

Di Ge fell in a single day.

This seemed like a miracle, but it truly wasn’t.

Gong Yin had always been the actual controller of this city. When the city’s master himself relinquished control, no one else could protect it.

This wasn’t achieved in a single day either. The battle to seize Di Ge should have begun from the day Jing Hengbo left Di Ge.

Those paths walked step by step, those journeys through nation after nation, all that power accumulated bit by bit—all were groundwork laid for the day of return.

The favors left behind in Xiang Kingdom, the resources gained from the Huangjin Tribe, the assistance obtained from the Zhanyu Tribe, the power accumulated in Dai Mao, the reinforcements received from Yi Kingdom and Feicui, even those llamas bought from Ji Kingdom.

Those were power—what she had gained along her journey outward, and more so, the smooth path for her journey back.

Otherwise, with Di Ge’s layers of obstacles, it would be difficult to leave, and even harder to enter.

The opening of this smooth path required his heart’s blood spilled at every step.

After nearly two years, atop the walls of Yuzhao Palace, she finally saw once again those people who had once sought to exile and kill her, now bowing their heads to her amidst the dust.

Yet at this moment, what she saw was not possession, but loss.

Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned and saw Meng Hu and Yu Chun.

Those two looked at her with gazes both hopeful and excited, yet they were overwhelmed by the immense desolation in Jing Hengbo’s eyes, unable to speak for a moment.

After a long while, Yu Chun finally presented a box with both hands, bowing slightly as he said, “Your Majesty, these are the tiger talismans of the Kanglong and Yuzhao armies.”

“Where is he?” Jing Hengbo didn’t even glance at the box, only staring into his eyes.

Therefore, she didn’t notice Yu Chun’s suddenly shocked expression.

Meng Hu pressed his lips together and lowered his eyes, continuing, “The new commanding general of Kanglong is a newly promoted officer, someone our master can trust. The other half of Yuzhao’s tiger talisman has always been with Commander-in-Chief Ying.”

“Where is he?”

“Your Majesty, our master’s intention is to request that after your return, you restore Commander-in-Chief Ying’s position. Additionally, afterward, regarding Xiang Kingdom, Yi Kingdom, Feicui, including your own Dai Mao, and the other subjugated tribes, please arrange for each tribe to submit letters acknowledging you as emperor as soon as possible. The sooner this matter is handled, the better.”

“Where is he?”

Meng Hu’s throat seemed choked. After a long while, he swallowed and closed his eyes, his voice weak as he said, “This servant… thought you knew.”

“This servant…” Yu Chun’s face looked even worse as he said, “also thought… you knew.”

The two men looked at each other, their faces filled with indescribable bitterness, thinking of their master’s parting instructions that day.

“I will leave Di Ge to resolve a problem that has persisted for years. Whether successful or not, I won’t return in the short term. When the Queen returns, you must serve her well, just as you once served me.”

“We beseech our master to reveal your destination, so that we servants may provide support, and so we may answer the Queen in the future.”

“Do you still need to answer the Queen? She will naturally know.”

…

The three slowly exchanged glances, each face bitter.

Jing Hengbo stared blankly at those two, then suddenly burst into laughter.

“Hahaha, so you were deceived too! So you were deceived too! Hahaha, he’s really something, shouldering all the world’s affairs alone! Hahaha, I’ve been cured! Hahaha, so there’s no one in this world he won’t deceive!”

Her laughter grew louder and louder, echoing increasingly wildly throughout the city. Below the palace walls, all the ministers looked up, thinking the Queen had gone mad with joy.

Indeed, seizing Di Ge in a single day, washing away the shame of past exile—anyone would laugh triumphantly over Di Ge.

“Hahahaha…” Jing Hengbo’s laughter continued endlessly. Amidst her laughter, she slapped away the box Meng Hu offered again.

“Get lost,” she said. “If he wants to arrange everything, then let him arrange it all the way through. If he has the ability, let him prepare the throne in Yuzhao Hall and personally lead me to the royal seat! I’ll listen to him!”

The box crashed and shattered atop the wall with a bang. Meng Hu slowly bent down to retrieve the tiger talisman, his bent back seeming as if it could never straighten again.

Jing Hengbo stood atop the palace walls, slowly surveying the surroundings. A flash of disgust crossed her eyes. She sneered coldly and walked forward, stepping on the scattered fragments.

“Meng Hu,” she walked forward with vacant eyes, slowly saying, “tell me everything he said and did before leaving, and where he stayed.”

…

Jing Hengbo stood before the secret chamber behind the wall of the Jingting study.

Only today did she learn that this was where Gong Yin most often rested. During those days when she was still in Yuzhao Palace, he frequently stayed there, avoiding encounters with her.

That secret chamber had another entrance, connecting to his bedchamber and the outside, so he could be in Jingting simultaneously with Zou Zheng without being discovered.

Along the way, Meng Hu had briefly explained to her the process of Gong Yin’s deception arrangement. Now Jing Hengbo stood before the secret chamber, looking at its completely empty interior, finding it hard to imagine that the actual controller of the Great Wilderness had truly lived in such a bare room.

The secret chamber was extremely cold. Standing at the doorway, one could feel the penetrating chill. Fine ice and snow still remained scattered on the floor, glinting faintly.

She touched the wall, and Meng Hu immediately called out, “Don’t touch it! Be careful your fingers don’t stick and lose skin!”

“Why is it so cold?” She walked into the room, crouched down in the center, pondering where he might have sat, slowly feeling around with both hands.

“This secret chamber was specially made. All the stone materials came from cold stones from the bottom of the Ice Sea. Moreover, after being lived in by our master for so long, it absorbed the yin-cold qi from his body. The cold penetrates to the bone and lingers for ages.”

“He…” Jing Hengbo slowly felt along the floor, “was ill, wasn’t he?”

Meng Hu lowered his head, not knowing how to answer. This was a secret their master had strictly forbidden them to reveal.

“Seriously ill, or seriously injured—in any case, the life-threatening kind, right?” Yet Jing Hengbo seemed not to need his answer. “It existed long ago, but after meeting me, it grew worse and worse, didn’t it?”

Meng Hu sighed softly and said, “So… Your Majesty need not blame yourself or worry excessively. In this servant’s opinion, our master very likely went to seek medicine or a cure, and feared you would worry, which is why he…”

“Where would he seek medicine?” Jing Hengbo rested both hands on the floor, pressed her face against her hands, and slowly lay down. “For an injury or illness that even he cannot resolve, where in this world could possibly resolve it?”

Now Meng Hu shut his mouth tight as a clam shell—the matter between the Snow Mountain and their master was the absolute secret that could not be spoken. If he led the Queen to the Snow Mountain and something happened, he couldn’t face their master even as a ghost.

Besides, their master had already abandoned his realm. Now only the Queen could ascend the throne. To have the Queen go to the Snow Mountain now—would that mean the Great Wilderness would forever be trapped in warfare and bloodshed?

“Your Majesty, the ground is cold, you cannot sleep…” he could only change the subject.

“I’ll sleep here,” Jing Hengbo simply rolled over on the ground. “I need to think carefully. Don’t disturb me.”

Meng Hu and Yu Chun looked at each other. Seeing that she truly refused to get up from lying on the ground, they could only hurry to fetch bedding and mattresses, and light braziers inside and outside the secret chamber. Jing Hengbo paid them no mind, maintaining the same posture throughout—lying on her side, hands pressed to the floor, face pressed against her hands.

This was where he had lived for so long. In this position, she could fantasize about sleeping in his embrace.

Fantasizing that those hands were his.

Fantasizing that he waited within this secret chamber, welcoming her return. When she came running, travel-worn and dusty, he would smile and embrace her.

Fantasizing that his embrace carried a cool fragrance but warm breath, fantasizing that his chin brushed against her hair, that she could reach out and touch his jade-cold skin.

She therefore let a gentle smile spread across her lips, then in the next instant, tears rolled down, following her jaw, collar, and palms, slowly accumulating in a small icy pool on the floor.

Meng Hu and Yu Chun stood at the doorway, watching the Queen’s back. Though she didn’t move, they felt this motionless figure in the dark, icy chamber was the most desolate sight of their lives.

After waiting a long while without seeing the Queen stir, the two had no choice but to turn and leave helplessly. Since the Queen wouldn’t accept the tiger talismans or manage any affairs, they had to help handle things.

Yu Chun walked while looking back repeatedly, his gaze hesitant. Meng Hu glanced at him and said, “Don’t meddle. Our master’s arrangements have never been wrong.”

Yu Chun lowered his head and sighed heavily, striking his own head once.

Jing Hengbo slept like this for three days.

During those three days, the Hengji Army entered the city, the Yuzhao Dragon Cavalry entered the city, various allied forces camped outside the city. Ying Bai and Pei Shu took over Di Ge’s defenses, rearranged Di Ge and the palace guard duties, stabilized the people’s hearts, and comforted the ministers. A group of pitiful ministers without a master to manage them busied themselves frantically, while that Queen who had charged all the way to Di Ge with such momentum shirked responsibility at the most crucial moment, holing up in a room to sleep.

Three days later, Ying Bai, unable to bear it any longer, stormed into the secret chamber and dragged Jing Hengbo out.

When Jing Hengbo opened her eyes and saw him, she was rather surprised. “I thought it would be Pei Shu coming. If not him, then Qi Sha?”

“Qi Sha went to pursue Xu Pingran. Yelu Qi is in her hands, and Xu Pingran still has troops currently engaged in battle with Pei Shu’s forces outside the city.” Ying Bai grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”

Jing Hengbo rarely saw the gentle Ying Bai act so domineering. She could only let herself be dragged along. Actually, she had no strength to resist Ying Bai now—covered in injuries, having gone three days without food or water, with extreme emotional ups and downs, she was already at her limit.

In the outer room of Gong Yin’s study in Jingting, Ying Bai pressed her to sit on the floor, then walked to the doorway and began counting steps. “One, two, three…”

Jing Hengbo said lazily, “What are you trying to do? Dig for treasure?”

Ying Bai ignored her, pried up the floorboard at the third step in the study, reached in, and pulled out a jar.

“How did you know there was wine there? Are there other things? Any letters or anything?” Jing Hengbo immediately pounced over to search, but was disappointed to see the hidden compartment beneath the floorboard was completely empty.

Ying Bai held the wine up to the light, staring at it in a daze.

“Ying Bai. The last jar of Longshan Ice Brew, in the hidden compartment three steps down in this Jingting study. When you return, if I’m not here, remember to retrieve it yourself.” He said.

Jing Hengbo’s searching motions suddenly stopped.

“These were the last words he said to me when I left Di Ge.”

Jing Hengbo slowly turned to look at that jar, murmuring after a long while, “Longshan Ice Brew.”

Under the red maples back then, she had drunk it.

“This is hundred-year Longshan Ice Brew. The finest in the Great Wilderness. Hundred-year Longshan Ice Brew, setting aside its taste, can also purify the body of impurities, making one immune to cold and heat, especially beneficial for martial artists’ foundation building.” Ying Bai said indifferently. “Yuzhao Palace’s collection held only two or three jars, and you drank the previous one.”

Jing Hengbo pressed her hand to her forehead, remembering that day’s drunken madness. Those days when she only knew how to act drunk—how wonderful, how distant they seemed.

“This jar was actually still one year short of three years. The three-year agreement became two years—you performed better than he expected.”

Ying Bai took a wine cup and filled it for her.

“He had planned it long ago.” Jing Hengbo murmured. Indeed, indeed he had decided very early. This Longshan Ice Brew—he had given her a taste long before anything had happened.

She lifted the cup and drained it, but it no longer held the wonderful mellowness of the past, only bitterness.

“I asked him for this jar of wine for a long time, and only now get to drink it, after working for you for two years.” Ying Bai drank it all in one gulp and shook his head. “Compared to how easily you drank a whole jar, this wine shouldn’t have been shared with you.”

Jing Hengbo smiled and poured him a cup, filling one for herself.

“I’m sharing it with you to tell you that what he did for you was very early, very long ago, permeating every single thing. You can dislike it, not accept it, not treasure it, but I want to ask you one question: he has already done so much—do you have the heart to let his efforts go to waste?”

Jing Hengbo remained silent and drained another cup.

“If he truly never returns, do you have the heart to let his final wish—pursued with all his effort after losing both realm and life—be ruined by you?”

Jing Hengbo drained another cup.

“If you continue being this willful, you will die too. When you reach the underworld, will you have the face to meet him?”

Jing Hengbo drained another cup.

Ying Bai snatched away her wine cup, saying unceremoniously, “Enough. The rest is mine.”

Jing Hengbo snatched the cup back, poured another, drained it, and with a sweep of her hand—crack!—the cup shattered on the floor.

“You’re overthinking.”

“Hmm?”

“This world, I want it.” Jing Hengbo spread her arms as if to embrace all the Great Wilderness. “These three days, I’ve thought it through. What I want is not just Di Ge, but the entire Great Wilderness. Only when the entire Great Wilderness belongs to me can I find him. If he hides, he hides on my land; if he dies, he dies in my realm. Even if he truly dies and is buried, he’s buried in my Great Wilderness. When I die and am buried, no matter where I’m buried, it counts as being buried together with him. In this lifetime, in life and death, he can only be in my Great Wilderness, in my embrace.”

Ying Bai looked up at her. A mouthful of wine stuck in his throat, scalding and burning, painfully hot.

Jing Hengbo had already walked out.

Walking through corridors, through Jingting, through bedchambers, to the outer court, Yuzhao Main Hall.

She sat down on the throne surrounded by brocade, carved with dragons and decorated with phoenixes, gripping tightly the cold golden dragon armrests.

Sitting here required arms spread wide—the posture of commanding the Great Wilderness, looking down upon all people.

Lifting her gaze beyond the hall doors, she saw the moonlit plaza like water, the towering palace gates in the distance, and the rolling mountains even farther away.

Only from high places could one see farther.

In the dark great hall, she sat upright with head held high, expressionless. Moonlight illuminated her face—a frost-cold snow-white expanse with two faintly winding, gleaming tracks.

Cold moon desolate, jade palace lonely. The entire Great Wilderness slumbered, none knowing that Di Ge’s new master wept upon the midnight throne.

The highest and most supreme imperial position, the hottest and coldest of lives. Greatest joy and greatest sorrow in love, deepest grief and deepest pain in separation.

The hall doors suddenly opened slowly.

Moonlight illuminated a shadow, a black silhouette stretching long across the golden brick floor.

For an instant, she was wild with joy, thinking he had finally returned, yet in the next moment her heart pounded, fearing it was his spirit returning.

Immediately she recognized this was Yu Chun.

That man stood before the hall doors, one hand clenched tight, silently watching her.

She stared at Yu Chun, hope kindling in her heart. This was the Grand Commander who had accompanied Gong Yin during his final period in Di Ge—did he have something to tell her?

Yu Chun seemed to hesitate, but when he finally saw the tear tracks on her face clearly, he finally slowly opened his hand to her.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “do you want to find our master?”