The curtain lifted.

There was no scene.

It was just a large white board blocking the view behind it, though this white board had a door painted on it, which made Jing Hengbo both surprised and amused. She was amused because this door simply couldn’t compare to the exquisite beauty of Yélu Qi’s scenes—clearly the great master’s popularity really was terrible. She was surprised because this door’s style didn’t seem to be a common style in today’s Dahuang. The white board just had a door painted on it, not Dahuang’s double-door type. There were no decorations on the door at all—just a circle drawn in the middle position against the wall, and that was it.

If not for the fact that this rectangular door was drawn perfectly straight and the circle was perfectly round, fully displaying the rigorous and precise demeanor that only belonged to a great master, Jing Hengbo would almost have mocked it—where did this perfunctory graffiti come from?

Next to the door was a round basket that looked like an ordinary household laundry basket, except it contained some torn paper scraps and waste cloth, along with some messy dirty odds and ends that looked quite unsightly.

The crowd below was also laughing. Indeed, this bare white board with such a simple door painted on it—and only half a door at that—no matter how standard it was drawn, was still monotonous and crude. Compared to Yélu Qi’s flower-filled, fairy-tale-like scene beside it, it was shabby to the extreme.

Someone laughed loudly, “Just this one door alone loses. How dare they bring this out to embarrass themselves?”

Another person laughed, “And that basket—if it’s not for clothes, what’s it holding? It looks disgusting. With such a scene, they dare say they understand Her Majesty’s heart? Would Her Majesty like these filthy things?”

Jing Hengbo also laughed, but as she laughed her expression changed. She bit her lip and stared unblinkingly at the door, as if the next instant it would bang open and several people who had perhaps crossed time and space, settled in memory, would walk out.

Impossible, impossible, impossible… she kept telling herself, impossible, impossible, impossible…

Seeing her reluctance to move, the crowd was somewhat puzzled. Some thought the Queen was disappointed and had given up, so noticing the late hour, they began yawning and heading home.

“Bang.”

The single door on the white board was suddenly pushed open, and a small white head squeezed out. The head had a pair of bright black eyes that looked around in all directions before sneaking out with a long strip of something in its mouth, slinking away while looking back guiltily.

The crowd below was stunned. After watching for a while, someone laughed, “A white cat?”

“No, a white dog.”

“That’s not right, why are the eye circles so black? Painted on.”

“What’s it carrying? Socks?”

Amid the crowd’s various guesses, Jing Hengbo stood there dazed, her lips pursed, eyelashes trembling, seeming to cry and laugh as she said, “Damn, too subtle. What it’s carrying should be a bra…”

“Smack.” A crisp sound as something was thrown out from inside, followed by a loud shout from within, “Yaoji! You’re stealing my underwear again!”

Jing Hengbo froze again, her lips trembling as she said, “Damn, making Feifei paint black eye circles to play Yaoji—you really thought of that…”

The door was pushed open, but no one came out. Only an arm reached out, efficiently grabbed “Yaoji,” and tossed it into a basket beside the door. With a “thud,” “Yaoji” landed with a sound, buried in a pile of torn paper and rags.

Someone inside scolded, “Damn, you threw Yaoji in the trash can—what about my socks!”

This voice was lazy in tone, slightly hoarse. Even when angry it sounded like coquettish complaining. The crowd listened and laughed, with someone saying, “Sounds like the Queen!”

Another person behind the white board answered, “Fish it out and wear it again.”

This person spoke concisely and clearly, each word particularly distinct.

“How can I wear something from the trash can! Pay me for a new one!”

“If you can beat me, I’ll pay you.” The same person answered as before.

Suddenly another arm reached out, rummaging through the trash basket and finding the sock, saying, “It’s not dirty, still wearable. I’ll help you wash it.”

This person spoke with a crisp, delicate voice, clearly quite young.

“No no no.” The sock’s owner still sounded disgusted, “Throw it away! Little X-ray, don’t go rummaging through everything—it’s a trash can, so dirty.”

Suddenly another voice chimed in, “Hey hey hey, so hot so hot, someone help me carry this!”

This last girl who spoke had a soft, sweet voice, with each word trailing a little upward lilt, making her sound sweet and adorable.

With a whoosh, it went quiet behind the white board, with only the sound of someone running over, “I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” It was the girl called “Little X-ray.”

The first voice said, “I’ll eat, I’ll eat!”

“Yaoji” leaped up from the trash basket, burst through the “door” and rushed in.

The last girl’s voice laughed softly inside, “Is it good? Hehe, I haven’t added salt yet.”

The sound of chopsticks being slammed down came from inside, followed by several cold laughs, “I knew it!”

…

The common people below watched in bewilderment.

But Jing Hengbo had long since gone rigid.

Her silhouette looked particularly stiff, her hair ornaments and hairpins moving without wind. The white board was right in front of her—just a few steps and she could open it, yet she never took that step.

Behind the white board, voices could still be heard but no people seen, yet their conversations were extremely vivid. Everyone had their curiosity piqued and expected the Queen to quickly step forward and open the door. Seeing her motionless, people also noticed her abnormality, and whispered discussions gradually arose.

Pei Shu stared at her intently, frowning as he looked between her and Gong Yin, his expression seeming to ponder what secrets this woman had told only Gong Yin. Yélu Qi still had a faint smile at the corners of his mouth, showing no disappointment, though his eyes held a trace of desolation.

Suddenly above the white board, black curtains began to fall, as if representing the arrival of night. When they lifted again, the crowd exclaimed “Ah!”

Jing Hengbo trembled all over.

Before her, the scene had changed.

Against the wall were two beds, but they were very strange—they were stacked in two layers, looking like they could sleep four people, extremely crude and simple in construction.

Two bunk beds with four sleeping positions, each with its own characteristics. The lower bunk of the bed on the left against the wall was clean and tidy, with light green sheets and bedding, very fresh and clean.

The upper bunk of this bed had a shocking style. All-black sheets and bedding with no other colors, the sheets spread without a single wrinkle—looking straight across was a perfect line. The quilt was folded square and neat like a block of tofu, with sides as sharp as knife cuts, making it hard to believe it was a bed for sleeping.

The neighboring bunk bed had yet another style. The bottom one had pink sheets and bedding with white heart patterns, very sweet, very girlish, very dreamy. It wasn’t very tidy, with the bedding softly nestled and particularly fluffy and thick, looking extremely comfortable and warm—clearly belonging to someone who enjoyed comfort.

The upper bunk was truly the most eye-catching of the four beds, because… it was too brilliant!

The bed’s sheets and bedding were all shiny bright red. Though clean, they were casually piled to one side, and the rest of the bed was heaped with various packages, boxes, bags, and some socks and brightly colored clothes and skirts hanging down from the railings in long and short pieces, looking like the flags of all nations when the Six Kingdoms and Eight Tribes gathered.

“Too polite, too subtle…” Jing Hengbo murmured, “Under normal circumstances, what should be hanging down are my underwear and bras…”

In front of the two bunk beds was a row of desks—four in total. Each desk’s style could perfectly correspond to the four beds, making it clear which desk belonged to which bed’s owner. The only common feature was that each desk had a round, head-like object about the size of a human head, made of paper in a very abstract way.

The crowd below curiously examined this novel scene, pointing and commenting that the beds were interesting and space-saving, while guessing what those round objects were. Jing Hengbo was also initially puzzled, but after thinking for a long time and recalling the dormitory setup from back then, she suddenly understood.

Those were computers!

Computers!

Someone had no concept of this high-tech object called a “computer” and couldn’t imagine it. Based solely on hearing this word from her mouth, guessing that since it had the character “brain,” it must look similar to a human brain…

How rare to see someone’s intelligence run aground…

Seeing this scene’s massive impact, her chest had been surging with emotion, unable to speak. Now, because of these comedic “computers,” she relaxed a little, wanting to laugh, though her heart was still sour. A faint smile had not yet fully formed on her lips when a glimmer was already flashing in her eyes.

Suddenly the curtain fell again. Jing Hengbo stepped back and heard footsteps and the sound of dragging desks from inside.

When the curtain lifted again, she widened her eyes.

The setting was basically the same as before, still that room, but the four narrow desks had been pushed together to form a square table, with three people occupying one side each, each holding a stack of hard paper in their hands.

Lights came on behind the white board, shining down brightly. Most prominent in the light was the black-clothed girl on the left side. Though called a girl, that was just an impression—in fact, this person had an androgynous beauty, even the sitting posture conveying masculine efficiency. Short jacket, long pants, high boots, with black hair tied back without a strand out of place, exposing a smooth, high forehead. One foot was propped on the leg of the neighboring person’s stool, lips tightly pressed, staring intently at the cards in hand with a serious expression. At her feet crouched “Yaoji” played by Feifei, obsequiously using her fluffy big tail to diligently polish her boots.

On the right was a girl in pink clothes, also strangely dressed in short jacket and long pants not fitting this era’s style. The girl had a snow-white round face, fluffy black eyelashes framing dark eyes, and slightly pouting red lips that looked sweet as honey, though her glances carried occasional hints of cunning.

While grasping her cards and muttering to herself, she casually grabbed sunflower seeds from a nearby dish, cracking them at tremendous speed. Seed shells flew from her teeth like snowflakes, and she occasionally remarked, “The five-spice flavor is too strong, next time I’ll roast plain ones…”

With her back to Jing Hengbo and the crowd was a girl in light yellow clothes, also in the short-outfit style with bound hair. Her hair was shiny black, her sitting posture particularly proper and elegant, properly holding her paper pieces, neither glancing around like the pink-clothed girl nor wearing the indifferent expression of the black-clothed woman.

Jing Hengbo stared at the three for a long time, feeling she couldn’t move her feet again.

This was a dream, a beautiful dream, the most wonderful existence preserved in memory, the past sealed away too precious to touch, like a crystal ball in a display window slowly turning, suffused with hexagonal snowflakes and playing tinkling music—beautiful enough to strike the hopes in everyone’s hearts, yet unattainable.

She feared that if she approached, the colorful clouds would scatter and the crystal ball would shatter.

This was just a scene performed for her to see.

But those three people didn’t plan to just be human background props. Suddenly looking up, they all gazed at her.

The black-clothed girl on the left crooked her finger at her and curved her lips, saying, “Three missing one.”

The yellow-clothed girl with her back turned looked over honestly and smiled, “Quick quick quick, we’re just waiting for you.”

The pink-clothed girl on the right lifted the dish of sunflower seeds and shook it with a rattle, “Hurry up hurry up, today’s prize is Orleans secret grilled wings!”

Three smiling faces suddenly bloomed before her eyes. Jing Hengbo stared and took a breath, pressed her lips together, and finally moved her feet.

She quickly walked over, pulled out the empty stool, and sat down.

The moment she filled that table, the sourness in her heart came like ocean tides covering the sky and earth. Her throat caught and she nearly sobbed aloud.

More than three years.

Separated for more than three years, over a thousand days and nights, she had never forgotten this scene, reliving it countless times in dreams, waking to stare blankly at the ceiling with a face full of bewilderment and a belly full of sighs.

Because they had never reunited, her heart was like duckweed, unable to find roots in this strange world, unable to anchor or settle, drifting aimlessly.

And through all the wind, frost, rain and snow, the difficult times, she especially missed her three best friends, countless times imagining what it would be like if they were all here. She certainly wouldn’t have been so miserably driven from Imperial Song, wouldn’t have been so wounded by love with no chance to heal, forced to struggle up. Those three people—Little X-ray would fight desperately, Little Cake would poison someone, and Tomboy would pin her to the bed and beat her for being stupid, then go beat everyone including Gong Yin. Actually, Tomboy would more likely grab the dagger she couldn’t hold tight in the snowy night at Imperial Song and thrust it hard into Gong Yin’s heart…

Her love with Gong Yin was too vague and desperate, so desperate she didn’t even dare hope for the future. So in those lonely, helpless days, imagining reunion was the motivation that sustained her through to the end.

I have to do well, she told herself countless times. I have to do well to have face to see my friends.

This other world was damn hard to get by in. Those three would definitely adapt even worse than her. Without doing better, if something happened to her friends in the future, would she also be powerless to just watch helplessly?

Those three people turned to smile at her in the hazy light, as real as if they were truly there.

She steadied herself, only then noticing the black-clothed woman was Zuo Qiu Mo. It had to be said that Gong Yin’s arrangement of placing Zuo Qiu Mo in the most prominent position was thoughtful, because from this angle she really looked very much like Taishi.

With one person looking so similar, that sense of reality came rushing over.

She sighed softly in her heart, knowing Gong Yin had still discerned Zuo Qiu Mo’s female identity, and had actually guessed that she had transferred her feelings because Zuo Qiu Mo resembled her friend.

So he created this scene.

The “Little X-ray” across from her was played by Yong Xue, a silent girl not good at acting, so she sat with her back turned, but that posture and manner really had some of Jun Ke’s feeling.

The “Little Cake” on the side was someone she didn’t know, and she didn’t know where Gong Yin had found her. Her eyes were very lively and her movements natural—likely a frequently performing actress, so creating this scene was easy for her.

Looking again at the cards in everyone’s hands, she almost laughed out loud.

She had once drunkenly raved to Gong Yin about her three friends’ nicknames, and had spent a night in his arms on the ice flowers he built, talking about everything from the research institute, including cards. But like computers and the misheard “Orleans,” Gong Yin only got the name without understanding the essence. Each person held only two hard paper pieces, one with “Paper” written on it, one with “Cards.”

Looking at those iron-strong silver-hooked characters spelling “Paper” and “Cards,” Jing Hengbo fell into deep speechlessness.

The scene fell silent for a moment, everyone strangely watching the strange Queen, not understanding what this scene meant or what the Queen was doing by joining in. Was this fortune-telling? Did fortune-telling require such emotion? Look at those flashing eyes, as if tears would fall with one blink.

The three people were looking at her. With such awesome “cards,” no one knew how to play.

After a good while, Jing Hengbo blinked and threw her “cards” on the table, laughing, “I’m out first! I won!”

Zuo Qiu Mo immediately threw down her cards, stood up, shouted “Yuri Sharek Alekseyevich Bogolovskii!” and walked away without looking back.

“Yaoji” trotted after her.

“Little Cake” laughed heartily and brought out a plate of golden-fried meat, curving her eyes as she said, “Oh my, forgot to explain clearly—today’s prize is Orleans secret chicken wings. The winner doesn’t get any, losers share, hehehe.”

“Really?” Jing Hengbo smiled as she pretended to get up, “I don’t care, all greasy and dirty…” Suddenly quick as lightning she spun around and grabbed for the plate, “…I still want some!”

“I knew you’d pull this move!” “Little Cake” laughed and tossed the plate onto Jun Ke’s bed, “Eat it, go ahead and eat! Friendly reminder—lots of dust mites in the bedding! Fried chicken wings with dust mites, quite a novel dish really…”

“Ah! My quilt!” The honest “Little X-ray” who had been tidying the table on the side cried out and rushed to rescue her bedding.

Jing Hengbo had already pounced on “Little Cake,” tackling her onto the bed, one hand grasping her small steamed bun in a tiger claw grip, the other hand pulling down a sock tie from the upper bunk railing and winding it around her hand several times, approaching “Little Cake” with a lewd smile, “Young lady with delicate skin and tender flesh, let this master ravish you…”

That “Little Cake” giggled as she struggled, suddenly reaching out to grab Jing Hengbo’s chest, laughing, “Your target is more obvious than mine…”

With a “whoosh,” the curtain fell.

Preventing millions of people from seeing the Queen’s undignified scene.

But millions of people were already dumbfounded, mouths agape, eyes staring, fixated on that black cloth, unable to understand how the noble, languid Queen had suddenly become a flower-picking lewd villain, much less understand what these girls were doing or what their identities were. How could they be so familiar and physical with the Queen? And why did they all speak so strangely…

They stared at the curtain, waiting for the next scene to begin. Though they watched in confusion, somehow they felt very comfortable and intimate. Though the women’s behavior was too bold, there seemed to be a special emotion flowing beneath it that, while incomprehensible, made people yearn for it.

That was the natural longing deep in the hearts of people bound by feudal propriety for freedom and indulgence.

However, the crowd held their breath and waited for a long time, but the curtain never lifted again.

Behind the curtain, the lights had gone out. Jing Hengbo was no longer laughing, lying face down on the bed with her head buried in the pillow, motionless for a long time. The girl who had played Little Cake underneath her anxiously extricated herself and stood to one side. Zuo Qiu Mo and Yong Xue also stood in the corner, silently watching the Queen’s silhouette.

Though the woman’s outline in the shadows was still and silent, everyone suddenly felt a faint dampness in the air.

The girl who had played Little Cake, though the best actress, was also the most confused about the situation. Seeing this, she felt uneasy and stepped forward wanting to bow to Jing Hengbo, when suddenly a hand pushed her aside.

She turned back to see Gong Yin.

Gong Yin’s expression was serene. He waved at the three women, indicating they shouldn’t disturb at this moment. Zuo Qiu Mo nodded and led the two women down.

Gong Yin sat down beside Jing Hengbo. Jing Hengbo lay there without moving.

Gong Yin looked down at her slightly raised shoulder blades, slender waist, and flowing hair trembling faintly, silent for a long time, his eyes holding faint pity.

He reached out as if to gather her long hair, but finally brushed it aside and placed his fingers on her spine.

Feeling the somewhat thin frame beneath his fingers, he lowered his lashes and gently stroked across the acupoints on her back, helping her regulate her breathing and soothe her melancholy.

Knowing she was crying, he didn’t stop her. Some accumulated grief needed an opportunity for release.

Jing Hengbo buried her face in the soft bedding. This bedding reproduced her original description—ordinary cotton cloth, warm and fitting. Looking carefully, one could see the brocade underneath, showing that in the rushed time, he had found quilts but still remembered to add a layer of cotton cloth on top.

The cotton cloth’s plainness and sunshine-like scent again awakened the longing and gratitude in her heart. She buried her face in that soft mass and cried thoroughly, dyeing the pink a deep red.

Crying from being moved, crying from memories being stirred, crying because this scene fulfilled her heart’s desire.

If in this lifetime she truly had no fate to reunite with them, having had this scene was a slightly bittersweet compensation.

She had thought he would arrange a scene of marrying her.

It seemed that for him, this scene was most important in his heart, this scene could also be called understanding her heart.

But he chose another direction.

Only because all along, he had always placed her affairs, her concerns, her attachments and longings above his own wishes.

In this world there were countless clever people, but only the one who loved you most could strike your deepest hidden desires.

She lay there, unwilling to raise her face, only feeling her body soft and her heart soft, as if soaked in perfectly warm water with nowhere to find purchase, yet even that floating was a soul-to-body comfort like being on clouds, brightness all around, seeing azure sky and bright sunshine.

She heard his gentle tone, still that clear and cold, seeming not to carry much emotion, yet only she knew that was precisely because his feelings were too deep and heavy, sealed layer by layer—more dense than passionate surging love.

He said, “Hengbo, Yélu Qi said he hopes you live the best life. And I only hope that all your obsessions in this world can be fulfilled. Your longing as such, your close friends as such, every matter and every wish in your life, all as such.”

This voice light as spring rain.

This sentence deep in the heart.

This sentence made her suddenly raise her head, no longer able to suppress her long-suppressed emotions, and throw herself into his embrace.