The twentieth day of the first month, Zhiming Year One.

Early in the morning, Rong Pu, who had been summoned to the palace, sat by the side of the Emperor’s bed in his sleeping quarters, his fingers gently pressed against Tie Ci’s pulse.

Tie Ci’s complexion looked even worse than it had recently. He kept a handkerchief pressed to his mouth, his chest rising and falling as if struggling to suppress his breathing.

Chi Xue and the others stood anxiously before the bed, speaking to Rong Pu: “Lord Rong, we don’t know what’s wrong with His Majesty. He was gradually getting better, but suddenly he’s become listless and dizzy again, constantly nauseous, with no appetite, yet he won’t allow the imperial physicians to come check his pulse. Please examine him carefully.”

Rong Pu continued taking the pulse for a while, then silently drew in a breath and glanced at Tie Ci.

That glance carried complex emotions, but Tie Ci kept his eyes closed, not looking at him, only saying: “Everyone leave.”

Chi Xue seemed somewhat surprised.

Throughout all these years, no matter what the circumstances, His Majesty had never avoided them.

But she said nothing, simply pulling Dan Shuang and Jian Xi away with her, even closing the palace doors.

Only Rong Pu and Tie Ci remained in the hall.

After a long silence, Rong Pu smiled bitterly and said: “Should this minister congratulate Your Majesty?”

Tie Ci replied flatly: “It hardly seems like something worth congratulating.”

“Congratulations would indeed be premature at this point,” Rong Pu said. “Your Majesty’s previous injuries were too severe, and the internal damage continues to linger, so…”

After a long while, Tie Ci slowly opened his eyes, his gaze calm and emotionless.

Some fates, if they come at the wrong time, are nothing more than another withering.

Finally, he said: “Let it be as fate wills.”

The twenty-seventh day of the first month, Zhiming Year One.

The Emperor was unwell and suspended court for one day.

In Chongming Palace, Rong Pu again sat in his previous position, withdrawing his hand from taking Tie Ci’s pulse. After a long silence, he said: “This minister will prepare a recuperative prescription for Your Majesty. You must persist in taking it. It would be best not to attend court recently, to avoid the cold wind and snow that might bring on a chill and leave lasting ailments.”

Tie Ci lay covered with thick bedding, his face pale as snow, eyes closed as he said: “One day of rest should be sufficient.”

Rong Pu wanted to say more, but Tie Ci wearily raised his hand, and he fell silent.

Rong Pu sat for a while, listening to her slightly labored breathing. The silver charcoal in the brazier crackled softly, yet the entire great hall was terrifyingly quiet.

He looked at the corner of the blanket that had come loose, wanting to tuck it in for her. His hand reached halfway but then slowly withdrew.

He stood up and slowly walked out of the hall. Today the sunlight was unusually bright and clear, great swaths of brilliant white light spilling across the golden brick floor, then gradually enclosed by the slowly closing door.

Tie Ci slowly opened his eyes, reaching under the pillow to pull out a small cloth sock.

The sock was no longer than a little finger, hanging softly from her finger.

The workmanship wasn’t exquisite, but it was careful—all the needle marks and thread ends were left on the outside so that when worn, they would never chafe delicate skin.

But it remained unfinished, still hanging with needle and thread.

Tie Ci’s fingers gently caressed the small sock for a while.

Then she reached out, extending her hand toward the floor beside the bed.

Her fingers opened.

The cloth sock fell into the brazier beneath the bed.

It slowly curled up and disappeared.

…

On the ninth day of the second month, Zhiming Year One, Da Qian received news of the new emperor’s ascension in Da Feng.

At the same time, they also received news of Da Feng’s military withdrawal.

It was said that on the second day after the Da Feng emperor’s ascension, he ordered the withdrawal of troops. At that time, Da Feng’s three hundred thousand soldiers were confronting Di Yiwei at the Pingshan line. Both sides had victories and defeats, the battle situation was deadlocked, and Di Yiwei had already prepared for a fight to the death. Who could have known that overnight, the Da Feng army retreated like a tide, leaving behind many supplies and numerous camps scattered across the wilderness.

At that time, Di Yiwei stood atop the city walls, gazing at the departing mass of dark soldiers in the distance, her face blank with confusion.

Having spent half her life in military campaigns, she had never seen such an anticlimactic battle.

Subsequently, Da Feng proposed peace negotiations, and urgent military reports flew to Shengdu.

At that time, the Emperor was in the Imperial Study, having summoned his key ministers to discuss the Grand Tutor’s proposal to merge all the academies in Shengdu and establish a separate national university in the capital.

When they heard this news, everyone instinctively looked toward the Emperor.

The Emperor didn’t even lift his head, seemingly unmoved by this unexpected good news, only saying: “Peace negotiations shall be handled by the Ministry of Rites.”

The ministers breathed a sigh of relief.

They had all worried that His Majesty, because of his father’s murder, would want to fight Da Feng to the death.

Although the late emperor’s revenge must be taken, now was not the time. After the Xiao clan rebellion, Da Qian’s vitality was damaged, and the people needed rest and recovery.

But the Emperor agreed to peace negotiations without saying anything, leaving the ministers with their prepared persuasive arguments unused.

However, some people felt uneasy in their hearts. He Zi exchanged glances with several Grand Secretaries.

What they worried about wasn’t that His Majesty wanted to avenge his father—their concern was quite the opposite.

They knew that regardless of whether peace was made with Da Feng or not, a blood feud had been formed that would certainly need to be settled in the future.

But they hoped His Majesty understood this point.

Duan Yande stepped forward to congratulate: “Your Majesty, yesterday General Manager Xiao also achieved a great victory against the Dayan cavalry, killing thirty thousand and driving them back beyond Juyan Pass. After this battle, Dayan’s vitality is surely damaged, and they certainly won’t dare to raid our borders again for several years. Thus, this rebellion in our Da Qian has finally been quelled.”

“Yes, truly double good fortune.”

“Most congratulatory.”

At that time, the Dayan cavalry had borrowed passage through Prince Changle’s territory, with their military might pointed directly at Shengdu. Within two days, that famously swift and predatory cavalry could have crashed into Shengdu.

No one had expected that Tie Ci, who was still Crown Princess at the time, while dealing with the Xiao clan, never abandoned her vigilance and control over the entire situation. When Yongping had to transfer Di Yiwei to the capital, she wrote to Xirong, asking King Dan Ye of Xirong to look after Yongping in her stead, and if there were changes in Da Qian’s interior, to come south in support. This was why Yongping didn’t fall immediately when its main general was absent, and why Shengdu received timely reinforcements during that moment of internal and external crisis, avoiding destruction.

At the same time, she turned her attention to Longyang, which had always appeared dutiful and compliant, and to Dayan lurking behind Longyang, secretly mobilizing Xiao Xueya’s forces, which were closest to Longyang, to lie in ambush on the route Dayan would inevitably take southward.

The veteran ministers only learned of this afterwards. While shocked, they couldn’t help but admire His Majesty’s vision and breadth of mind—while dealing with the Xiao clan, she had dared to employ Xiao Xueya, the only member of the Xiao family who held military power, to execute such an important mission crucial to Da Qian’s survival. It was truly astonishing.

Such courage and trust—how could it not inspire generals to fight to the death?

Xiao Xueya did not disappoint Tie Ci’s trust. He paid no attention to the storms in Shengdu, turning his back to the capital and facing Dayan, with snow-white armor and silver spear, steadfastly guarding before the southern stronghold of Yuzhou.

After he repelled Dayan, Yannan’s You Weixing also requested permission to coordinate with Xiao Xueya. Not only did they pursue Dayan all the way to their grasslands, but they also conveniently struck through Longyang completely.

Xiao Xueya and You Weixing’s cooperation severely wounded Prince Changle of Longyang, and Longyang was now embroiled in succession struggles among his sons.

But the struggle was actually meaningless now, because the court would soon issue an edict condemning them, stripping them of their fiefdom and bringing it back under direct rule.

Without destruction, there could be no rebuilding. Now two of the three feudal princes had been dealt with. The ministers looked up to their sovereign, the people loved him, and the soldiers were devoted. In a short time, Da Qian had entered its golden age, and Da Qian’s new emperor had become the most beloved ruler.

Except for Da Feng, which didn’t need to be dealt with urgently.

But everyone firmly believed that their Emperor would lead them to crush Liaodong, capture that audacious rebel, bring him to Shengdu, and execute him by a thousand cuts.

The meeting didn’t last too long, as the Emperor had not yet fully recovered and his health continued to fluctuate.

The ministers took their leave in the afternoon, filing out.

Duan Yande walked beside He Zi, in good spirits, discussing Da Feng’s new emperor with him: “…the era name is Chongjiu. What, does this rebel pretender dare to aspire to an eternal dynasty and imperial glory lasting ten thousand years?”

He Zi glanced at him and smiled slightly, gazing at the frost-covered glazed eaves ahead without responding.

Chongjiu—supremely noble and everlasting dynasty.

In the eyes of Da Feng’s subjects, they probably thought the same way.

But was it really so?

Chongjiu, double nine.

Eighteen.

…

In the fifth month of Zhiming Year One, Da Feng’s peace negotiation delegation arrived in Shengdu.

They did not receive an enthusiastic welcome from Shengdu’s citizens, who still remembered the suffering and bloodshed of that night of upheaval, remembered how Da Feng’s new emperor had deceived their Female Emperor, murdered the late emperor, escaped from Shengdu, and then used this “great achievement” to claim that vile pretender’s throne.

It was just that everyone remembered their status as citizens of the Celestial Empire and didn’t lose their dignity by throwing eggs or vegetables—they merely regarded them with cold stares.

The new Minister of Rites was responsible for reception, arranging the delegation at the Tongwen Hall. Rong Pu had not yet returned to Haiyou. Though he should have been in mourning, the Emperor had kept him from retirement to assist the Ministry of Rites in handling peace negotiations.

In the delegation, Rong Pu saw a familiar face.

Deputy envoy Mu Si.

That day, the delegation submitted a formal request for an imperial audience according to custom.

That night, Tie Ci stood before Chongming Palace watching the moon. In early summer, the sky was high and clouds sparse, the moonlight clear and bright.

The night-cold of the heavenly steps was like water.

Dan Shuang stood behind her. The girl had grown much thinner, returning to her original ice-carved, snow-sculpted coldness. When Tie Ci occasionally turned around, she would always be startled, thinking she had encountered a ghost.

The two stood in silence, one before the other, until Tie Ci spoke: “I don’t plan to see the delegation. Tomorrow you should leave the palace and go see them in my place.”

Dan Shuang was silent for a moment, then said: “Your Majesty, please forgive me. I will be indisposed with a cold tomorrow and unable to leave the palace.”

Tie Ci smiled helplessly, turning to look at her. “Why is this necessary?”

Dan Shuang didn’t answer.

“This person has come such a long way. It wasn’t easy for him,” Tie Ci sighed. “Just now I was thinking, if he truly has sincere intentions, I could think of some way for you to quietly go with him. What do you think of feigning death? We could start with your sudden cold…”

Dan Shuang interrupted her: “This servant doesn’t understand what Your Majesty is saying.”

Tie Ci fell silent, then after a long while said: “This is between him and me. Why must you get involved and ruin your own lifetime of happiness?”

“I cannot abandon Your Majesty,” Dan Shuang said. “And I will never go to Liaodong.”

“Dan Shuang, sometimes if you don’t seize an opportunity, you lose it forever.”

“When I was saved by Master and Your Majesty and stayed by Your Majesty’s side, I swore an oath that I would never leave you for my entire life,” Dan Shuang said. “Your enemies are my enemies, your loves and hatreds are my loves and hatreds. Though I cannot bear Your Majesty’s pain in your place, I will never go off to enjoy happiness alone.”

“Dan Shuang, you received Master’s education. Why don’t you understand even now the principle of living for yourself?”

Dan Shuang pressed her lips tightly together and refused to speak further.

Tie Ci closed her eyes and shook her head, turning to lean against the cool white marble railing.

The white marble plaza stretched vast as the sea under the moonlight, appearing broad and cold as snow.

That was the distance separating her from the human world.

That was the snow from that year that would never melt.

Her fingers caressed the rough stone surface as she thought: she had expected he would secretly come mixed in with the delegation.

But in the end, he hadn’t.

Just like that time, the last time she had him brought into the palace, she had expected he would secretly run to Ruixiang Hall first to pour snow down her neck.

That also hadn’t happened.

At that time, her heart had felt strange, like an ominous premonition.

Later came the bloodbath at Chongming.

Now, once again, her guess had proven wrong.

Her heart felt as if a piece had been carved out with a knife and cast into emptiness, floating and drifting with nothing to depend on.

Too many things were beyond her control, their destinations unknowable, their futures invisible.

She gripped the cold stone railing, but her palms were colder than the stone.

A phrase echoed countless times in her heart, but there was no one to hear it.

Murong Yi.

So you and I.

In the end, our fate was shallow.

…

His Imperial Majesty ultimately did not receive the Da Feng delegation, not allowing them to set foot in the imperial palace.

Regarding this decision, the Da Feng side was very dissatisfied, but Da Qian’s ministers all breathed a sigh of relief.

They all believed this demonstrated His Majesty’s attitude toward Da Feng.

His Majesty harbored no lingering feelings—in his heart, Da Feng represented those treacherous ministers and regicidal rebels.

Negotiations proceeded amid mutual tugging and pulling, with the delegation naturally having professional personnel to conduct talks. As deputy envoy, Mu Si was responsible for the delegation’s security.

He shouldn’t have come originally. After Murong Yi’s ascension, Mu Si had taken the position of Palace Guard Commander, responsible for imperial palace defense—such an important duty should never leave the palace. But Murong Yi had forcibly sent him here.

After receiving news that His Majesty would not grant an audience, Mu Si never approached Da Qian’s imperial palace, maintaining his usual demeanor.

It was just that his subordinates several times caught him sitting on rooftops drinking wine, facing the direction of the imperial palace, early summer moonlight draped over his shoulders like frost.

Also in this fifth month, the Emperor’s enthronement ceremony, delayed for nearly half a year, was finally held in Chengqian Hall. The Da Feng delegation was permitted to attend the ceremony at the palace gate plaza.

At that time, the Da Feng delegation stood below the hall, gazing up at the Female Emperor at the end of the thousand-step staircase, unable to help thinking of the legendary entanglements of love and enmity between their own emperor and this Female Emperor, their hearts filled with mixed emotions.

Indeed, those in power were not meant to have love.

Even if there were moments of passion and confusion, they could not withstand the ruthlessness of imperial power. In the end, each occupied their own territory, north and south, each claiming imperial dignity—it could be considered a good ending.

Da Qian’s Emperor ascended the throne, granted general amnesty, and the entire nation celebrated. Envoys from all directions came to offer congratulations, and Da Feng also sent congratulatory state documents, with the delegation presenting gifts on behalf of their court.

However, that state document caused tremendous upheaval.

Da Feng Emperor’s state document was extremely brief. After a few routine congratulations, it said: “Yi has long admired Your Majesty. Would Your Majesty be willing to use your kingdom as dowry, so our two nations might form eternal alliance?”

It was said that at that time, quite a few court ministers cursed loudly.

The calmest, however, was His Imperial Majesty, who sat high upon the throne at that moment. He read that state document carefully from beginning to end, handed it to an attendant, and replied calmly: “I am indeed of marriageable age and must eventually select an imperial consort. Since Da Feng’s Emperor has such intentions, then—would you be willing to become my consort?”