The winter wind was cold, and the fresh blood flowing from behind the screen had already congealed.

Feng Zhiwei stared blankly at the fallen screen, where only a corner of light-colored clothing was visible, soaking in the pool of blood.

Through layers of guards, from the doorway to inside the room, her hidden fourth blade had finally killed Xin Ziyan. Yet for some reason, she felt no satisfaction in her heart.

After a long while, she lifted her feet and walked forward, circling around the screen.

The person behind the screen lay on their side with their back to her, their elbow bent covering their face, long hair scattered, their face invisible.

Feng Zhiwei slowly walked over, crouched down, and reached to lift Xin Ziyan’s elbow.

The person had both hands crossed and bent in front of their face—the convulsing posture of a severely wounded person on the verge of death. To see the other’s face, she would have to reach her hand between the bent arms and pull them apart.

Feng Zhiwei extended her fingers.

Her fingers were about to touch the other’s elbow.

Those bent elbows suddenly sprang and pressed down, lightning-fast pinning her wrist between the arms. Feng Zhiwei immediately raised her free hand, but the other was even faster. One hand swept up like stroking a zither in the wind, fingers flashing, appearing soft as clouds yet actually hard as iron, pinching her wrist pulse point.

This person’s strike was indescribably fast—almost the moment Feng Zhiwei’s fingers reached over, he had already seized her vital point. Meanwhile, Zong Chen and Feng Zhiwei’s guards were still three feet away, utterly unable to rescue her in time.

Everything happened in a flash. In the blink of an eye, the dust settled.

Behind the screen, before the pool of blood, the two people—one lying, one crouching—froze in position, staring at each other without blinking.

His fingers pinched her wrist pulse. With just one release of internal force, all the meridians in her body would be destroyed—if not dead, she would become a cripple.

Her fingers pressed against both his eyes. With just one forward thrust, his pair of eyes would certainly go blind, and one more push could pierce through his forehead.

After exchanging only one move, each held the other’s life and death.

Zong Chen had already rushed forward in that instant, but now seeing this scene, he stopped instead, sighed, and withdrew from behind the screen.

The wind carrying the scent of blood blew leisurely in, lifting the stray hair on her forehead and intertwining it with his hair.

Like the inseparable entanglement of this life.

After a long while, Feng Zhiwei softly sighed.

“Your Highness…” She half-knelt, staring at him without blinking, her fingers pressing unhesitatingly against his eyelids. “Where is Xin Ziyan?”

Ning Yi pinched her wrist pulse, leaning obliquely against the thin wall behind the screen, saying lightly, “I’m here—isn’t that enough to satisfy you?”

“Is Your Highness trying to trade his own life for Academy Head Xin’s life?” Feng Zhiwei smiled without humor, shaking her head dismissively.

Whatever she said, whatever movements she made, the fingers pressing on Ning Yi’s eyes didn’t tremble even slightly. Ning Yi was the same.

“I originally hoped to use your life to exchange for Master Xin’s life.” Ning Yi smiled slightly. “But your vigilance and reactions have always been so impeccable.”

Feng Zhiwei also smiled slightly. Ning Yi indeed understood her well enough—knowing that she would personally act to avenge Helian, knowing that after this series of attacks and killings she would be exhausted with slower reactions, he waited behind the screen to personally act, waiting to negotiate with her.

“Now Your Highness can no longer threaten my life to make me spare Xin Ziyan.” Feng Zhiwei lightly pushed her fingers forward a bit. “Or Your Highness could try dying together with me—then Master Xin would be saved.”

Ning Yi showed no fear, laughing lowly, saying, “Yes.”

Then he suddenly released his grip, letting go of Feng Zhiwei’s wrist pulse.

Feng Zhiwei froze.

“If I could kill you, why would I wait until now?” Ning Yi calmly released his hold, closing his eyes. “Master Xin has already been transferred away by me. I stayed here waiting for you—wrongs have perpetrators, debts have debtors. What Master Xin owes you, in the end, was all for my sake. If that’s so, why not settle it all at once?”

He smiled and leaned back, lowering his brows and closing his eyes without speaking, actually taking on the appearance of letting her strike as she wished.

Feng Zhiwei’s fingers pressed against his eyes.

With just a gentle push forward, all these various grudges and burning difficulties could seemingly be concluded.

The pair of eyes beneath her fingers trembled slightly due to the pressure. The skin she touched was warm and soft. Eyes… eyes…

“From now on, let me be your eyes.”

A phrase suddenly crashed into her mind like a hurricane.

On the cliff of Jiyang Mountain, a sixteen-year-old girl raised her face, her expression warm and sincere.

One blind, one injured—together defending against pursuit. The path they had traveled together that year replayed in an instant of light and shadow.

Feng Zhiwei’s fingers trembled.

She lowered her face slightly, looking at that person with long hair falling and expression serene. Her heart slowly twisted and tightened like a well rope soaked in water and exposed to wind, trembling slightly as it wrung out a bitter juice.

He had released her wrist pulse but took hold of her heart’s pulse. That voluntary relinquishment seemed like showing weakness but was actually an attack on the heart.

After a long time, she sighed deeply.

Her fingers dropped powerlessly.

Ning Yi didn’t immediately open his eyes, but the corners of his lips revealed a faint trace of a smile.

“Zhiwei.” He said softly, “I knew you couldn’t bear to kill me.”

Feng Zhiwei silently closed her eyes. After a long while, she turned her head away. “Your Highness voluntarily released me—how could I take the opportunity to put Your Highness to death? Feng Zhiwei hasn’t become base to that degree.”

She spoke this sentence long and coldly, then with heart-ash and discouraged spirit rose to leave. But just as her body turned halfway, she suddenly twisted back sharply, her arm already swinging out fiercely!

“Boom!”

A black light flashed, a thunderous sound erupted, and the wall behind Ning Yi—painted dark with black auspicious beast totems—shattered with a crash.

Thin layers of brick rolled to the ground. The people behind the wall looked up in alarm.

Three people.

An old man with a face full of wrinkles, a girl of about ten years, and Xin Ziyan bound hand and foot with his mouth gagged.

When the wall suddenly shattered, all three people behind it were startled. The girl threw herself onto Xin Ziyan in fright, but her posture seemed more like protection than fear. The old man, choked by the dust and coughing, also tremblingly raised his walking stick horizontally, blocking it in front of Xin Ziyan.

Feng Zhiwei’s gaze slowly swept over the three people. She smiled and said, “Good morning, everyone. Quite a crowd here.”

Earlier, Ning Yi had tried to distract her mind, and in her confusion she truly hadn’t noticed anything. But she was somewhat skeptical about what Ning Yi said regarding already having transferred Xin Ziyan, because to save time, she had come extremely quickly, even taking shortcuts. Ning Yi had at most arrived one moment earlier than her—he might not have had time to transfer Xin Ziyan away.

Once suspicion arose in her heart, she immediately heard what seemed like faint sounds from behind the wall, like someone struggling. Only then did she feint leaving and strike suddenly, indeed discovering Xin Ziyan.

However, Xin Ziyan appearing before her in such a manner was somewhat unexpected.

Ning Yi smiled bitterly and looked back, saying, “Master Xin, why must you—”

“A true man dies when he dies—why be so shamefully clinging to life? Must I also drag Your Highness into exhausting your efforts?” Xin Ziyan used his eyes to force his young sister-in-law to remove the gag, then declared loudly, “Your Highness, you need not feel troubled. I’ve already sent letters to colleagues in the capital saying I’ve contracted severe carbuncle and my life hangs by a thread. In the future, should anything happen to me, no one can blame Your Highness.”

Xin Ziyan spoke transparently, but Ning Yi remained silent. After a long while he said, “Master has misjudged me. If I save you, would it be merely to avoid subordinates’ alienation? Back when I was in the most difficult straits, Master extended a helping hand in dangerous times. Without Master, I would have died long ago at my brothers’ hands. Master is my benefactor. I feel guilty toward Master. In public duty and private righteousness, Master’s life—I must protect it.”

Feng Zhiwei quietly listened with hands behind her back, then said coldly, “King Helian also showed me kindness. His revenge—I must exact it.”

“Stop arguing!” Xin Ziyan rolled up his sleeve and laughed coldly. “Wei Zhi, I’m not afraid of death, but I also don’t wish to die bearing misunderstanding. King Shunyi’s death is indeed related to me, but my original intention was never to strike at him. I only wanted to capture evidence of your secret liaison with the grassland feudal lords. The person I wanted to move against was you! As for King Shunyi, ruling the grassland—even if caught with evidence of secretly colluding with you, as long as he didn’t leave the grassland, the court couldn’t do anything to him, just like when the Second Prince colluded with Changning—the Second Prince died, but wasn’t Changning perfectly fine? I never imagined that human calculations cannot match heaven’s calculations, and King Shunyi would lose his life! Even now I don’t understand what exactly happened that day, but I’m willing to take responsibility—King Shunyi was a hero! The Shunyi Iron Cavalry once fought shoulder to shoulder with me in the great battle against Yue and protected my life. I admire and respect the righteous and clear-minded King Shunyi! Wei Zhi, with life and death at stake, I disdain to speak even one false word. No matter what, King Shunyi died because of me. If you want to kill me—it’s not unjust!” He suddenly pulled a knife from behind the couch base—evidently prepared and hidden there long ago, polished bright. He clumsily flourished it in his hand and said, “If I want to kill you, that’s also perfectly justified. Since that’s the case, we needn’t continue with covert schemes that backfire. Let’s simply act like crude jianghu men today—weapons drawn, settling this once and for all!”

He rushed toward Feng Zhiwei brandishing his knife. Feng Zhiwei raised her long blade, and with a clap pressed down his knife. With a twist of her wrist, Xin Ziyan immediately tumbled away rolling, crashing heavily at Feng Zhiwei’s feet with a thud.

He was also stubborn—pushing away the old man and girl who rushed to protect him, he raised his head to ram it against Feng Zhiwei’s descending blade edge. Ning Yi suddenly swept over, lightning-fast yanking him away forcefully. Xin Ziyan scrambled up to rush forward with his knife again. The old man and girl immediately rushed forward to hold him fast. The two grabbed his clothing on either side, looking at him tearfully.

Xin Ziyan didn’t look back. He looked up and sighed, already tears streaming down his face, straightening his neck and choking out, “Even if Your Highness protects me today, what of it? Must I spend my life cowering like a frightened mouse under Your Highness’s protection? Ahua is dead. I have no will to live. I wanted revenge, but the enemy didn’t die—instead I mistakenly killed the innocent. Heaven mocks me so—what face do I have to live shamelessly?”

“Brother-in-law! Brother-in-law!” The youngest, Qihua, cried shrilly. “It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault—”

“Ziyan, would you leave your old father behind, making the white-haired send off the black-haired…” The old man’s withered tree-like fingers tightly clutched Xin Ziyan’s robe corner, tears streaming down his aged face. The hall filled with crying. From the distance came faint sounds of wailing as well. For a moment, tears were shed on all sides. Feng Zhiwei’s face turned pale.

“Wei Zhi.” Ning Yi suddenly spoke quietly. “Master Xin hasn’t lied. He truly had no intention of harming Helian—but hatred stirred his heart, he was exploited by others, and through a series of mishaps created this bitter fruit. I know that once you’re determined to kill someone, if you don’t succeed the first time, there will be a next time—you never give up. But look—” He pointed at Xin Ziyan’s old father and sister-in-law. “What wrong has Elder Xin committed? What wrong have the Jin ladies committed? If Master Xin dies, how do you expect them to live? Would you have Elder Xin lose his only son at nearly seventy? Would you have the Jin ladies lose their last relative? You’ve already harmed Elder Xin’s daughter-in-law and harmed the Jin ladies’ sister—will you also take their lives?”

Feng Zhiwei’s fingers holding the blade trembled.

“If you kill him, kill me first!” Qihua rushed over, spreading both arms to block in front of Xin Ziyan. “My sisters are in the back hall, each holding three feet of white silk! If you kill our brother-in-law, everyone will hang themselves before your eyes! Let you kill, let you kill, let you kill to your heart’s content!”

Feng Zhiwei lowered her head, looking at the woman’s eyes burning with anger, remembering that day in the garrison prison—Fat Ahua’s body full of bloody holes, remembering the Jin ladies carrying the corpse past, spitting at her with hatred.

The grudges of this world are hardest to resolve.

At this moment she already understood Ning Yi’s intention. He didn’t plan to clash with her head-on over this matter in endless entanglement, nor did he plan to henceforth protect Xin Ziyan behind iron walls so he’d never dare show his head. He wanted to settle it once and for all, letting the grudges be laid out clearly face to face. He seemed to be constantly yielding, yet every move attacked the heart, striking directly at her inner vulnerabilities without allowing her to catch her breath.

And she, knowing his thoughts, was truly suffocated.

The person in this world who understands you best is not your enemy—it’s the one who had no choice but to become your enemy, who was once your beloved.

Behind her at the hall entrance, she heard Zong Chen’s long, drawn-out sigh.

“Xin Ziyan.” After a long while she said in a heavy voice, “You say you were exploited by someone who mistakenly caused harm to King Helian. Who was that person? Don’t tell me it was Meiduo—she doesn’t qualify.”

Ning Yi immediately looked back at him as well, clearly also wanting to know.

Xin Ziyan’s face was pale. After a long while he slowly shook his head. “No. She helped me take revenge. Perhaps she also had thoughts of using me, but I’m grateful to her—I cannot speak.”

“You truly are obstinately stubborn.” Feng Zhiwei hadn’t expected him to still be so pig-headed at this point. Her tone was grim.

“Master Xin.” Ning Yi’s tone also showed some displeasure. “You’re clever all your life—why are you so muddled about this matter? That person wasn’t helping you take revenge at all—they just wanted to use you to strike at Wei Zhi and Helian Zheng. Since you know you were exploited, why still keep secrets for them? Have you considered that now that the strike failed, the other party might kill you to silence you?”

“How would they kill me to silence me?” Xin Ziyan extended his hand pointing at the corpses scattered throughout the outer hall. “Didn’t they all specially come to protect me with their lives? So many people sacrificed themselves for me—how can I betray her?”

Feng Zhiwei was startled. That group of black-clothed guards and brown-clothed people weren’t Ning Yi’s subordinates?

“Protect you?” Ning Yi laughed coldly. “I just arrived and brought guards directly through the back door to the rear hall, bound you and hid you in this concealed wall. When this group entered carrying weapons and moving furtively, they were about to follow into the rear hall when Wei Zhi arrived. They were forced to turn around to face the enemy—I suspect they didn’t necessarily want to save you. Most likely they wanted to silence you, but discovered my guards protecting you and couldn’t silence you, so they turned to defend against the enemy for you, hoping you’d be grateful and keep your mouth shut. Human hearts are treacherous—don’t think too simply!”

Xin Ziyan stood there stunned, his gaze shifting as if he too had thought of some suspicious points. After a long while he sighed deeply. Feng Zhiwei thought he would finally speak, but unexpectedly he still shook his head, saying, “No, I cannot.”

Feng Zhiwei pointed her long blade, its edge like a pool of autumn water piercing to the eye. Xin Ziyan bitterly closed his eyes, saying, “Last time in the mountain cave at Luojiao Mountain, I swore an oath to her. If I reveal her identity, then Ahua… her bones underground will not rest in peace…”

Feng Zhiwei and Ning Yi’s eyes simultaneously brightened.

Though this sentence still seemed like refusal, what needed to be said had already been said.

In the mountain cave at Luojiao Mountain, some traces must have been left behind.

Ning Yi turned his face, looking at Feng Zhiwei.

The Jin ladies rushed over clutching white silk, squeezing into the concealed wall space, forming a circle protecting Xin Ziyan in front. All cried with red, swollen eyes.

Elder Xin silently wiped his tears, saying indistinctly to his son, “Resign from office, resign from office…”

Xin Ziyan closed his eyes without speaking, long trails of moisture slowly flowing from the corners of his eyes.

Feng Zhiwei didn’t meet Ning Yi’s gaze.

She closed her eyes.

Slowly raised her hand holding the blade.

“Crack!”

In the dim inner hall, snow-bright light flashed as the long blade fiercely chopped down!

In the distance, a wisp of sunset quietly fell behind the peaks of Huozhuo Snow Mountain, reflecting crystalline light from thousands of miles away. From somewhere came a long, magnificent tune, blowing down the last trace of twilight.

The winter grassland was bleak yet magnificent, stretching endlessly in the vision of those returning from afar.

“Tonight we return to the royal court under cover of night.” Zong Chen looked at the shadow of the Second Putala Palace not far ahead. “The court’s envoy is ten li behind us. We’ll arrive just one night before them.”

Feng Zhiwei nodded silently. She had already resumed her sallow-faced disguise, even thinner than before, her chin sharp and pointed—fitting the image of the “long-ill” Grand Consort Feng Zhiwei.

“Any regrets?” Zong Chen suddenly asked her.

Feng Zhiwei knew what he was referring to. After a long silence she said, “I’ll leave his life there for now. I think Helian would also certainly believe that killing the true culprit is real revenge.”

The north wind howled past. She raised her fox fur collar higher, revealing only a pair of eyes as deep as night.

That day in Xin Manor, the long blade chopped down, slicing past Xin Ziyan’s robe corner, splitting stones by the dozens, as deep as ravines.

She had used all her strength to proclaim that the grudges between them stopped at this blade strike. Any further actions would not be easily forgiven.

Then she abandoned her blade and left, heading straight for the grassland. On the other side of the mountain, another team went to assume the position of Provincial Inspector. Zong Chen was skilled at disguise—creating someone with similar build and appearance to Wei Zhi wasn’t difficult. According to legend, his ancestor, Emperor Chengqing, could gradually change a person’s face to look exactly like his own. After over six hundred years, the Zong family’s disguise techniques had only advanced further. Moreover, Wei Zhi’s face was fake to begin with.

In the night, a team of royal soldiers silently appeared ahead, welcoming her into the Second Putala Palace.

Deep into the night, the Second Putala Palace still hadn’t slept. Inside and out, lights blazed brilliantly. Feng Zhiwei knew this was Huozhuo custom—on the night before burial, they illuminated the path to another world for those about to depart on a distant journey.

She drew her cloak around herself, walking silently toward the rear palace. The light from butter lamps in the distance shot toward her. Her shadow was long and lonely.

She had walked every inch of this land together with Helian, but she had never imagined that since leaving the grassland that year, footsteps walking side by side would become a final echo.

Five years later she returned—he was already gone.

“Daughter-in-law!” Mudan Hua, wearing a black headscarf, stood at the doorway. Seeing her, she spread both arms and rushed over. “I caused Zhadalun’s death!”

This sentence was like a heavy hammer, making Feng Zhiwei sway.

Mudan Hua threw herself heavily onto Feng Zhiwei’s shoulder, crying bitterly. Large tears spread across the black fox fur, creating patches of dim brightness in the lamplight.

Feng Zhiwei slowly raised her hand, gently patting her shoulder. Through her shoulder, she looked at the small child standing beside Mudan Hua.

Five-year-old Chamutu.

The child leaned against the doorway, wearing a black mourning cap. Seeing his mother cry, he cried too. Through tear-blurred large eyes, he still didn’t forget to look curiously at Feng Zhiwei.

Feng Zhiwei’s hand patting Liu Mudan’s shoulder paused in midair.

When it fell again, her tone was pained yet slightly cool.

“No, I caused his death.”

Who didn’t believe in fate, who couldn’t see the final outcome five years later—futile compassion unable to withstand destiny’s turning wheel.

Mudan Hua didn’t understand her meaning, only crying desperately on her shoulder. Since receiving the news of Helian Zheng’s death, this strong woman hadn’t cried. Just like when Old King Kuku suddenly died that year, her first thought was the grassland’s stability and her own responsibility. Only when seeing this woman stronger than herself arrive did her tears finally pour out.

She buried her face fiercely in Feng Zhiwei’s shoulder, murmuring over and over, “Shouldn’t have argued with him that time… shouldn’t have argued with him that time…”

Feng Zhiwei was about to ask her what happened when Mudan Hua seemed to have vented enough. Wiping her tears, she said, “Go see him. Zhadalun must very much want to see you one last time.”

Feng Zhiwei took a deep breath and nodded. Entering the door, someone silently lifted the curtain for her.

At a glance she saw the black-gold great coffin in the center of the hall.

The benevolent and honorable King Shunyi slept forever in the coffin his clansmen had forged from black gold.

Feng Zhiwei stood at the doorway. For an instant she felt she faced the distance of heaven—sky above, human world below.

Thinking life still had a long way to go, thinking there would be many more chances to meet—yet all thinking was just thinking. In the end, what she ultimately faced was this most resolute kind.

She stood before the steps, staring blankly at that imposing great coffin in the midnight grassland’s cold wind. That was another world—heavy, dark, forever on the other shore. Even if she died immediately, she could not accurately reach it.

It was this thick barrier that separated her lifelong confidant, the grassland hero, separated that Zhadalun who would call her “little aunt” with animated expression—leaving her henceforth to face long and lasting heartache and regret.

Cold wind blew through the raised curtain. The room permeated with the cool vapor from ice blocks. The ever-burning lamps on the candle stands flickered twice, like an urging, smiling face. Feng Zhiwei slowly moved her steps, step by step, going over.

Short three zhang, long one lifetime.

When she finally walked before that black-gold great coffin that she almost had to look up to see, suddenly her legs weakened. Leaning against the coffin, she slid down kneeling.

Her fingers slowly slid along the fierce-eyed, angry divine beast totems on the black gold. The grassland’s rough carving style abraded her fingers—the pain couldn’t match this moment’s heart.

For the first time in her life she was powerless to stand, powerless to look at him one last time.

“Zhiwei, I’m always waiting here. If you don’t come over and won’t let me pass, then I’ll be here. Just remember—when you’re tired, take a step back, look behind you. I’m here.”

As if in a trance, someone whispered at her ear, penetrating the vast sky of the deep winter grassland.

Helian, you’re here—but where should I be? I once promised to protect your grassland. I wholeheartedly wanted to protect the land you loved. I chose to block news from the capital to keep you from being drawn into imperial storms—yet never imagined such news blockade would ultimately harm you.

If you had known I’d acted, known about the conflict between Xin Ziyan and me, would you have been more alert, not taken that final path of death?

No matter how we circle around, does fate ultimately always give me a crushing blow as the final outcome?

The ever-burning lamps flickered overhead, emitting slight crackling sounds, like someone sighing distantly from the vault above.

Feng Zhiwei supported herself on the coffin wall, struggling to stand up. She pushed open the coffin lid that hadn’t been nailed shut. The black-gold great coffin had a special cold jade layer. All four sides were filled with non-decay incense specially made by secret methods of Huoyin Temple lamas. Helian Zheng wore royal robes and a gold crown, lying quietly on black and gold seven-layered brocade bedding. Except that the royal robes seemed somewhat too loose and his complexion too pale, his appearance was remarkably lifelike.

Feng Zhiwei quietly looked at him. As if in a trance, she seemed to see him suddenly sit up, fiercely open both arms to hug her neck, laughing heartily, “Little Aunt, just teasing you!”

She extended her hand with tears, waiting to slap his head hard, but slapped only empty phantoms.

Her hand extended in midair stiffened, trembling slightly in the candlelight.

Feng Zhiwei slowly lowered her head, seeing that smile that didn’t fade even in death.

She stared blankly at that smile for a very, very long time. After tonight, this person, this smile—farewell forever in this life. Henceforth she might meet thousands upon thousands of people, but there would never again be that Helian who stood on horseback on the grassland waiting for her to return.

Feng Zhiwei suddenly bent down.

Her ice-cold lips gently pressed upon Helian Zheng’s eyes.

Helian.

This kiss seals the memories you saw in this life. In the next lifetime, may you never again see inauspicious me.

Tears finally fell—like his face, equally cold.

Behind her, the door curtain gently fell. Heaven and earth fell silent in Feng Zhiwei’s dark eyes.

Mudan Hua waited calmly in the courtyard. Seeing her come out, she gently pointed at a small adjacent room, saying, “That’s the memorial tablets for the Eight Pumas. Their garments and caps will be buried together with him. They swore to die together with him. I fulfill their brotherhood in this life and the next.” A trace of sorrow passed through her eyes. “It’s just I’m sorry to San Sun… his memorial tablet can only be hidden secretly.”

Feng Zhiwei turned to look at her. Mudan Hua said, “San Sun wrote a suicide note in royal court script using blood, hiding it in his belt. He clearly described everything that happened on the journey. He only wrote up to Ba Huan’s death, then nothing after. But I believe him—even if heaven collapsed and earth split, he would never kill Zhadalun.”

Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes with relief. The hero wouldn’t die unjustly after all. The open and broad grassland royal court believed in its loyal sons.

Only such a grassland could nurture such stalwart men.

“I only want to know now… who was the mastermind?”

Feng Zhiwei clapped her hands. Zong Chen tossed over a person who, upon landing, went limp as a sack on the ground.

“Meiduo—” Mudan Hua’s voice was shrill.

Almost immediately she understood what Meiduo had done. Her next sentence came fierce and resolute.

“Someone, drag her behind a horse and parade her before every tent! Tell them—it was this woman who betrayed the King’s whereabouts and caused the King’s death!”

“Grand Consort, spare—” Meiduo’s plea for mercy hadn’t even left her mouth before several grassland strongmen grabbed her hair and dragged her out. Amid miserable screams, a winding trail of blood stains followed all the way.

“She’s not the mastermind, but I already have a lead.” Feng Zhiwei pressed down on Mudan Hua’s trembling shoulders. “Mudan Hua, believe me—I will avenge Helian.”

“The grassland’s son’s revenge—the grassland will exact it.” Mudan Hua brushed aside her hand, staring into her eyes. “Is it someone from the court?”

Feng Zhiwei’s heart filled with bitterness. She pressed her lips together without speaking. But Mudan Hua already nodded, drawing in her sleeves, gazing at the sky, saying lightly, “I know my son. For what he truly wanted to do, he didn’t fear life or death. If I hadn’t argued with Zhadalun that day, his choice might not have been this. I caused his death… Zhiwei, from now on, I entrust the grassland to you.”

She walked away with a straight neck, her back lonely. Chamutu spread both arms toward her. Mudan Hua crouched down, picked him up, and slowly departed.

Those who had been loved came and went, leaving only her standing long atop Huozhuo Snow Mountain, casting lonely and sorrowful radiance over the grassland.

The next day, the court’s envoy arrived. The Huozhuo tribe held a grand funeral for their king. The “long-ill and recuperating” Grand Consort Feng Zhiwei finally appeared at the King’s funeral. When the black-gold great coffin was heavily lowered into the tomb chamber thirty zhang underground, the Grand Consort knelt and scattered the first handful of earth.

The desolation of eternal farewell shrouded the woman’s brows. The grassland’s great mourning even made the court envoy continuously sigh with emotion.

“Grand Consort.” That Secretariat Academician seemed afraid she’d faint from excessive grief straight into his arms. Carefully maintaining a three-chi distance, he said, “His Majesty heard the terrible news of King Shunyi and was very concerned about the Grand Consort’s wellbeing. He commanded this humble servant to convey regards to the Grand Consort and hopes the Grand Consort will return early to the Imperial Capital for honored care.”

As expected, it came. Feng Zhiwei laughed coldly in her heart. Emperor Tiansheng’s memory was just like this—ordinarily he absolutely couldn’t recall Feng Zhiwei. But now that she’d become a widow, the old Emperor remembered she was the Princess Shengying he’d personally enfeoffed, the person he’d personally promised Madame Feng he would care for.

She pressed her hand to her heart, leaning on her maidservant, thanking him for the grace with frail appearance. She expressed that once her health improved somewhat, she would certainly immediately return to the capital for an audience to express gratitude.

After sending off the court envoy, she stared blankly at the grassland men circling on horseback to seal the coffin, trampling the ground flat. Afterward they would construct a vast mausoleum garden, but the specific location of the tomb chamber—no one would know anymore.

The shadow of distant mountains painted across that gradually leveling earth. She sat on the cold ground, tracing the outline of that shadow in a daze, thinking hazily in her heart to make herself remember—the end of that mountain peak’s shadow was where Helian slept eternally…

At some unknown moment, another shadow silently fell behind her. That figure wasn’t heavy, yet it covered her shadow just right.

Then a pair of warm hands, somewhat hesitant yet never changing direction, fell upon her shoulders.