At the moment Feng Zhiwei shed tears in Prince Shunyi’s mansion, Princess Shaoning was also weeping in the Quiet Studio.

She sat there in a daze, not wailing loudly, but tears flowed silently, falling onto her collar and sleeves, the blue garment gradually turning black.

The palace attendants serving her remained nearby but dared not approach, fearing her temper while pitying her plight. Though they didn’t know clearly what had happened during the day, it was obvious the princess had fallen from favor, so naturally they avoided her lest they be implicated.

Shaoning paid them no mind. Having already lost everything, how could she care about such cold treatment?

Yet footsteps softly approached.

Shaoning’s eyes lit up. Without waiting for the palace maids to greet the visitor, she struggled forward to push open the door, calling out, “Father Emperor, you still came—”

Her words suddenly stopped.

Walking toward her through the night, carrying a child, was Ning Ji.

The flush of excitement that had just risen slowly faded, replaced by a ghastly pallor tinged with green. Shaoning stood dazed, gripping the door frame. After a long while, she hoarsely said, “…Tenth Brother.”

Ning Ji looked at her with pity, carrying the child in his hand as he entered, waving away the palace maids and supporting her shoulder, gently saying, “Zhao’er, I came to see you.”

Shaoning raised her head to look at him. She and this brother had studied together at Qingming and had the best relationship. Seeing his gentle eyes, tears instantly rolled down her face. She grabbed his sleeve, “Tenth Brother… you help me go tell Father Emperor, I’ve been framed, I’ve been framed! How could I not be his daughter? It can’t be, it can’t, it can’t!”

Her sudden madness frightened the child, who burst into loud crying. Ning Ji quickly tried to crouch down to comfort the child, but Shaoning gripped him tightly, preventing him from moving. He had to use a bit of force to pry her hands open first, saying, “Zhao’er, don’t get agitated first, take it slowly…” He picked up the child and gently soothed him.

Pushed away by him, Shaoning staggered back two steps, saying miserably, “Tenth Brother, do you not believe me either?”

Ning Ji looked at her with difficulty. He actually hadn’t thought that much about it—what Great Cheng remnants, what fake princess—no one could accept such things in a short time. He believed His Majesty also just needed to calm down and think it through. After more than twenty years of affection, surely it wouldn’t all be erased in one day. But he couldn’t say anything either, so he could only step forward and gently wipe away her tears, saying, “Sister, don’t think too much. Wait—Father Emperor will issue a gracious decree…”

“Tenth Brother.” Shaoning remained motionless, letting him wipe her tears, suddenly saying oddly, “Don’t you feel that someone is behind all this? Over these years, the children Father Emperor loved and valued have withered away one by one. Now, it’s just my turn… Tenth Brother, I know you and Sixth Brother have a good relationship, but don’t you feel that he’s personally killing off his brothers and sisters one by one, until only he himself remains?”

Ning Ji stopped speaking and slowly withdrew his hand. The expression on his face instantly became somewhat strange, though it didn’t seem like anger—rather like guilt, shame, unease, and various other complex emotions.

But Shaoning didn’t notice his expression. She turned her head to look out the window, immersed only in her own thoughts. “…Next will be Seventh Brother, then after that will be you… until finally, among the princes of the Tiansheng Imperial Dynasty, only he remains.”

“It won’t happen!” Ning Ji’s refutation burst out.

“What makes you so certain?” Shaoning sneered at him, suddenly grabbing his hand. “Tenth Brother, help me escape! We’ll join forces—I’ll help you ascend to the throne!”

Ning Ji jerked his hand away as if burned, glaring and saying, “What nonsense are you speaking!”

“Seventh Brother is hopeless. Besides him, there’s still you!” Shaoning stared intently into his eyes. “Help me clear my name—I have a way to help you!”

“I don’t need it!” Ning Ji stepped back, his tone resolute. “And you too, Shaoning—Father Emperor doesn’t like troublesome children. I advise you, whatever improper thoughts you have, put them away immediately!”

Shaoning pressed her lips together, glaring at him viciously. Ning Ji didn’t avoid her gaze, meeting her eyes directly. Shaoning knew this younger brother was gentle on the outside but firm within. After a while, she retreated dejectedly and collapsed onto the couch, sobbing without speaking.

Having withdrawn her malicious air, Ning Ji felt somewhat reluctant. After thinking for a long while, he pressed her shoulder and said softly, “Actually, you needn’t lose heart. As long as you don’t have any chaotic thoughts, I’ll help you. Brothers are gradually withering away—I feel bad about it too. Not just you, but I’d help anyone else too…”

He suddenly realized he’d let something slip and quickly stopped, but Shaoning had already raised her head alertly, asking him, “What do you mean you’d help anyone else too?”

Ning Ji hesitated for a moment, then sighed, “You and she had a good relationship—it doesn’t hurt to tell you…” He lowered his head to look at the child by his knee, leaned close to Shaoning, and softly spoke a few words.

Shaoning listened quietly, her face growing paler and paler. That pallor first showed shock, then seemed to suddenly trigger certain memories, revealing startling panic.

She sat there frozen, her eyes woodenly moving from Ning Ji to the child. She examined his features carefully, and her fingertips suddenly began to tremble slightly.

But Ning Ji didn’t notice her abnormality. He glanced at the sky, murmuring, “It’s going to rain. I need to go back first. Zhao’er, just rest assured.” He patted Shaoning’s shoulder and left with the child.

Shaoning never said a word throughout.

She sat there. From the moment she heard those words, she had lost all ability to move.

The midnight moon cast a ghastly pallor, yet her complexion was even more pallid than the moonlight.

He said, “That child… that child…”

That night a child died at Ning Yi’s hands… she went to ask her, and she fell into her arms weeping, crying that the child had been killed… and she took her to see the body, such a small bundle…

If her child hadn’t died, then whose child was killed that night…

Shaoning suddenly curled up, as if in unbearable pain, covering her abdomen.

That night was so painful… in the depths of a temple far from the Imperial Capital… she tossed and cried out, her cries covered by the mountain forest winds… not a single palace attendant by her side… the midwife was found by her… that old woman pressed her legs, sweating profusely, saying push, push, push harder… she heard that one cry before collapsing from exhaustion. When she woke, the midwife said… after coming out, it cried twice… then stopped breathing… already buried…

Just half a month later… she rushed back to the Imperial Capital… to save someone else’s child… her own child was dead, her hope lay with another child… but that night Ning Yi appeared… she failed to save anyone, and later contracted a host of postpartum illnesses.

Yet today, the child that should have died at Ning Yi’s hands stood right before her, perfectly fine!

Shaoning sat rigidly, slowly reviewing in her heart everything along this path. At this moment, everything burst open like a nightmare, the truth staring at her with a sinister eye in the darkness.

Her child hadn’t died in the womb, but was taken away by that person to die in place of her child!

That person killed her child, yet she still had to travel a thousand miles, risking her health, rushing back to the Imperial Capital to protect that person’s child!

How foolish, how foolish!

Shaoning threw back her head and began laughing madly.

Good, very good!

She suddenly jumped up from the chair, her reddened eyes searching everywhere for something she could use to kill someone. The corner of her eye caught sight of a black porcelain beauty vase. She grabbed it and smashed it against the table edge. With a crack, the vase broke into two pieces, the jagged edges sharp as knives.

Gripping the bottom of the broken vase, she kicked aside the chair and headed outside.

What identity mystery, what Father Emperor’s abandonment, what wet nurse’s deception—at this moment she threw it all aside. Now, she wanted revenge for her murdered child!

She strode forward, her eyes half darkness, half blood red—the darkness was her soul, the red was blood.

Her hand had just touched the door when it suddenly opened on its own. Several large-footed women who had been guarding the outer courtyard walked in. One went directly before her, while the other two closed the door tightly after entering.

Shaoning, her mind clouded by grief and rage, didn’t notice their movements. She waved the broken vase and shrieked, “Get out of the way—”

Her voice was forcefully muffled by the woman in front!

That woman pressed a handkerchief over Shaoning’s mouth. A faint strange fragrance spread. Shaoning’s eyes widened as she looked at her, struggling desperately beneath the cloth, but her face gradually flushed red and her body uncontrollably went limp.

A cunning gleam flashed through the woman’s eyes. She turned her head back and said with a low laugh to those behind her, “Our Soft Fragrance Powder really works well. Never mind the girls in brothels—even a noble and precious princess has to fall!”

“Stop wasting words! The Consort ordered us to do the proper business!”

Shaoning suddenly struggled. With her heart full of grief and rage still unextinguished, she managed to move slightly. The other two pounced over. One person pressed her mouth shut tightly while another forcefully pushed down on her shoulder blades. The first woman removed the handkerchief and sneered, “Princess, ultimately your luck is poor. Consort Qing ordered us to guard here. If you behave yourself, fine. But if you cause trouble and we all die together? Then please die first!”

“Poof—” Shaoning spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, which that woman desperately blocked.

“Crack!”

Suddenly a bright flash lit the sky, piercing through layers of accumulated black clouds. A white beam of light descended, accompanied by a thunderclap that shook the porcelain fragments on the table, making them rustle and fall, then be silently crushed beneath several pairs of chaotic, trampling feet… The lamplight suddenly went out. In the flickering lightning, several people panted lowly, covered in sweat.

“Collect all the fragments and wipe up the blood clean.” The leading woman instructed the other two. Unhurriedly, she swept the broken pieces of the beauty vase into her sleeve and wiped away the blood on the floor.

“Still has one breath left—hang her up while she’s warm.” One woman deftly pulled out Shaoning’s sash, wrapped it around her neck to form a slipknot, threw one end over the ceiling beam, and with a “hey,” exerted force with both arms. A low “keh” sound came from Shaoning’s throat as she was hoisted up, swaying.

The women placed an overturned stool beneath Shaoning’s feet. Looking up, the leading woman pressed her palms together, closed her eyes and murmured, “Princess, we humble ones are just following orders… If your fragrant soul has knowledge, seek out whoever you should seek out…”

“Boom.” A muffled thunderclap struck viciously on the roof, startling them all into trembling.

“Stop muttering—it’s really frightening…” One woman tugged at her companion’s sleeve, looking up somewhat fearfully at Shaoning suspended high above. Her long hair hung loose, covering her face, her white silk skirt fluttering in the air. In the flickering lightning, a ghostly chill spread.

The women filed out. With a creak, the door closed, and the Quiet Studio returned to peaceful darkness.

“Crash!”

In that very instant, torrential rain poured down violently.

On the first day of the fourth month in the twentieth year of Changxi, Princess Shaoning committed suicide in the Quiet Studio. Seven years earlier, her Crown Prince brother had fallen from the tower of the Quiet Studio. Seven years later, she quietly hanged herself from the beams of the Quiet Studio.

With her death, the Tiansheng Emperor was shocked but also gained some doubt—could this daughter really be a switched Great Cheng remnant who, knowing there was no way out, committed suicide out of fear of punishment?

Because of this doubt, Shaoning ultimately couldn’t be buried with princess rites. She had originally had her title revoked and been made to practice Buddhism at the imperial temple. Now she was treated with Buddhist lay devotee rites, her spirit laid in the imperial Kaishan Temple. After three days of ceremonies, she would be buried at Falling Banana Mountain in the suburbs of the capital.

After successive incidents, the old emperor finally couldn’t support himself and fell ill again. This time the illness was fierce. The inner court and outer court ministers were frequently summoned, imperial physicians came and went constantly, and a tense atmosphere gradually shrouded people’s expressions.

Feng Zhiwei had recently been frequently summoned to the palace. The seriously ill emperor sometimes actually mistook her for Shaoning, holding her hand and telling her stories from Shaoning’s childhood. Feng Zhiwei always smiled in agreement, gently tucking in his blankets.

Ning Yi sat across from them, reading memorials to the old emperor. When the two met, they were refined and civil. Since the first time they addressed each other as brother and sister without the emperor’s objection, thereafter whenever they met they would exchange bows—one calling “Imperial Brother,” the other responding “Younger Sister.” Both polite and gentle, both composed and proper, both lowering their eyes after this exchange, never looking at each other again.

In mid-April, the Tiansheng Emperor suddenly wanted to move to the Luo County traveling palace. The palace that had been sealed for many years was urgently activated. The emperor’s grand procession headed toward Luo County. Ning Yi remained in the Imperial Capital to supervise the state, while Feng Zhiwei accompanied the imperial carriage to Luo County.

That evening the emperor moved into the traveling palace. He didn’t open the underground level’s secret hall, but only lived in the main hall on the upper level. Behind the main hall was a waterside pavilion overlooking a pond, drawing water from Li Lake with a water pavilion built above it. A gentle breeze came and the water was unruffled. The emerald water reflected the brilliant lights and flower shadows. Seeing this, the emperor was quite interested and dined in the waterside pavilion that evening.

Feng Zhiwei served him dinner. The emperor leaned comfortably against his soft chair, looking at the distant lake and mountain scenery. Feng Zhiwei carefully draped a blanket over him, smiling, “Your Majesty mustn’t catch cold.”

The Tiansheng Emperor turned his head slightly, looking at Feng Zhiwei with somewhat hazy eyes, saying, “Why aren’t you calling me Father Emperor anymore?”

Feng Zhiwei froze. In this instant she didn’t know if the emperor was lucid or confused again, mistaking her for Shaoning. Then she smiled and softly called out, “Father Emperor.”

As this address left her lips, the blowing snow flashed before her eyes.

But the Tiansheng Emperor only smiled with satisfaction, gripping her hand, his gaze drifting vaguely through the air as he said leisurely, “You all must not understand why, when I’m this ill, I still had to run here… Actually…” He smiled somewhat hazily yet cunningly, “I just want to die here.”

Feng Zhiwei said softly, “What are you saying? You’re in your prime—this is just a minor ailment…”

The Tiansheng Emperor waved his hand. Feng Zhiwei fell silent. The Tiansheng Emperor smiled faintly, “I’m at this age—what don’t I understand? Luo County is a good place. Back when Sixth Brother’s birth mother was alive, she came here once. She really liked this place. She wouldn’t like something for no reason… Later I had Master Zhang of the Nine Yang Sect look at it for me. He also said this place has excellent mountain configuration. If nourished with dragon energy, it will become a place where stars surround the moon, greatly benefiting the eternal stability of my Ning Imperial Dynasty. So I must come here. The imperial palace in the capital has too much resentful energy… These days whenever I close my eyes I seem to see ghosts and spirits. I suppose my time is near… This place is quieter…”

His tone was low, his eyes half-closed, his expression half bright and half dark, his words deep and profound. Feng Zhiwei looked at his face, her heart tightening, thinking if he were to pass away at this moment…

“Zhiwei.” Her fingers suddenly felt cold as the Tiansheng Emperor’s icy fingers grabbed her. “After I pass on, who do you think should receive the throne?”

Feng Zhiwei immediately knelt down. “Your Majesty, this concerns the state and altars—Zhiwei dares not speak rashly…”

“It’s just between Sixth Brother and Seventh Brother…” The Tiansheng Emperor seemed not to hear her words, murmuring, “…But…” His fingers grabbed wildly in the void. Suddenly his eyes went straight as he said, “Go! Go look at my golden casket—go look! Bring it—bring it—”

Feng Zhiwei was startled, not understanding his meaning. Eunuch Jia, who was serving nearby, seemed to understand something and quickly shuffled forward, asking in a low voice, “Your Majesty… is it the golden casket in the secret hall? Should the Grand Consort go along?”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s face flushed red. He stared into the void, waving his fingers wildly and speaking incoherently, “You’ve come? Why come now? Master Zhang said you’re a nation-destroying demon concubine, said your Falling Sun Clan had a grievance with my Ning family in past years, that your falling snow upon green pines means ‘blood send’ for my Ning family, that your demonic energy must be imprisoned to dispel this… Yet this demon Taoist also said the middle-ranked among all sons should be emperor… This demon Taoist spoke nonsense—I had him executed… Don’t blame me, don’t blame me…”

His expression was confused, and his words gradually involved inner palace secrets. Both Feng Zhiwei and Eunuch Jia felt they shouldn’t continue listening. Eunuch Jia pulled her aside, saying, “Grand Consort, His Majesty’s earlier meaning was for you to retrieve the golden casket. Please follow me.”

Feng Zhiwei said “Mm” and didn’t ask about any golden casket. Eunuch Jia wouldn’t tell her anyway.

Her thoughts were still on that earlier passage. What the Tiansheng Emperor said seemed to be about Ning Yi’s birth mother and the tragic experiences that woman later endured, which apparently related to Master Zhang’s calculations. But Master Zhang’s statement that “the middle-ranked among all sons should be emperor”—among the Tiansheng Emperor’s children, eleven were ranked in total, and Ning Yi ranked sixth, precisely in the middle. Didn’t this refer exactly to Ning Yi?

Judging from the emperor’s tone, he had believed in Master Zhang’s Taoist arts. Only now did Feng Zhiwei somewhat understand why the emperor’s attitude toward Ning Yi had always been strange—wanting to entrust him with important tasks yet always guarding against him, always guarding yet also constantly giving him opportunities. It turned out he was caught between that strange song from Ning Yi’s mother and Master Zhang’s prophecy, himself not knowing which to believe, his intentions wavering without certainty.

And now? What was the emperor truly thinking? He was this ill yet still hadn’t summoned back the Seventh Prince who was supervising troops in the south. This throne would ultimately have to go to Ning Yi, right?

“Grand Consort, please enter.” Eunuch Jia’s voice interrupted her contemplation. Looking up, she was actually before the secret hall, though not at the entrance to the underground secret hall but at a small door to the side.

She remembered that when Ning Yi brought her here that year, there didn’t seem to be this door—it must have been added later. Her gaze glanced toward the underground secret hall, somewhat regretting that the Tiansheng Emperor hadn’t gone to that underground level this time.

Then she saw Eunuch Jia open the secret chamber’s door and stand with hands lowered beside it. Further away outside the door, the Imperial Guard commander stood with his hand on his sword.

“This servant cannot enter.” Eunuch Jia said respectfully. “Please, Grand Consort, go in and retrieve the golden casket, then come out immediately. Nothing inside can be casually disturbed, otherwise…” He paused, looking at Feng Zhiwei meaningfully.

Feng Zhiwei nodded to show she understood and slowly entered. As soon as she entered, she squinted—mirrors on all four sides, brilliant light dazzling the eyes. Her every movement was reflected in the mirrors. Eunuch Jia stared fixedly from the doorway—any extra movement would be seen.

Following Eunuch Jia’s instructions, she pressed four characters in sequence on the wall relief inscription “The sun and moon have their constants, the stars and constellations their orbits. The four seasons follow their order, all people are truly sincere”—pressing “sun,” “constellation,” “order,” and “truly.” Immediately there came a series of grinding sounds as a small golden drawer slowly emerged from the wall.

The corner of Feng Zhiwei’s eye caught sight, and her heart trembled. She first saw the golden command arrow on the left side of the drawer.

The imperial command arrow signifying the emperor’s personal presence, representing unobstructed passage through the Imperial Capital at any time, with authority to command nearby military forces.

The Imperial Capital had been under martial law due to the emperor’s serious illness. Though she now seemed to move freely in and out of the palace, escorted daily by smartly turned-out Imperial Guards, this actually represented distrust—it was just to watch her more closely. This fake princess, this fake Grand Consort, was truly in an unstable position.

Even if the emperor had dispelled his wariness and suspicion of her, what about Ning Yi? The emperor couldn’t stop her, but Ning Yi wouldn’t release a tiger back to the mountains.

Recently, though she seemed leisurely accompanying the emperor viewing mountains and waters, inwardly she was anxiously beyond words. The grasslands had already dispatched troops according to court orders, but only she knew that after the Shunyi cavalry entered the pass, they would certainly change routes. She must leave the capital before the grassland iron hooves trampled Tiansheng’s cities. Gu Nanyi had hurriedly come once to see her and was immediately sent by her out of the Imperial Capital to Hua Qiong’s location. She feared that delaying further, even Gu Nanyi might be trapped in the capital. Though she’d thought of many ways to leave, she still hadn’t found a foolproof plan.

Thoughts flashed rapidly through her mind. She didn’t look long at the command arrow—lingering even one moment longer might arouse Eunuch Jia’s suspicion.

Next to the command arrow was a sealed golden box, sealed with three layers of fire lacquer. From Eunuch Jia’s expression in the mirror, she knew this was what she needed to take. She took it in hand and, following Eunuch Jia’s instructions, closed the mechanism again.

At the instant of closing the mechanism, her fingers moved, tempted to act. However, seeing the mass of heads outside, seeing Eunuch Jia’s awkward yet stable-based stance, she ultimately abandoned the idea.

Carrying the casket in her hands, accompanied by Eunuch Jia, the Imperial Guard commander, and a large contingent of Imperial Guards back to the water pavilion, all along the way she carefully examined the surroundings repeatedly, having to curse Ning Yi inwardly for building even a palace so meticulously. All the pathways and layouts followed their own logic, interlocking and arranged ingeniously. Wanting to do anything in such a palace would not be easy.

When the casket was brought to the water pavilion, the Tiansheng Emperor seemed to have already awakened from his earlier confused state and was leaning wearily against his soft chair. Seeing Feng Zhiwei bringing the golden casket, he froze, saying, “Why did you bring this out? What for?”

Feng Zhiwei and Eunuch Jia exchanged bitter smiles, knowing that indeed the emperor hadn’t been quite lucid earlier. The Tiansheng Emperor also realized this and quickly waved his hand, “Take it back, take it back. Put it away properly.”

Eunuch Jia had no choice but to lead Feng Zhiwei back. Feng Zhiwei was secretly delighted—the opportunity had come!

She flicked her finger forcefully, and a piece of tree bark she’d secretly peeled earlier shot out from her palm. The bark skimmed across the water, raising a large spray of shimmering light. The water birds kept on the lake’s island were startled and rushed into the sky, flapping their wings. Black shadows immediately flickered everywhere.

Already mentally confused, the Tiansheng Emperor was immediately frightened. The shadows of the birds flying chaotically looked like ghostly apparitions. He immediately cried out loudly, “Assassins! Assassins! Ghosts! Ghosts! Catch them for me! Catch them!”

Imperial Guards rushed over from all sides. Since the emperor was shouting about assassins, the guard commander naturally couldn’t leave. He stood on the water pavilion directing the guards to “catch assassins and ghosts,” running about sweating profusely following the emperor’s wild pointing and shouting. Of those returning to deliver the golden casket, only Eunuch Jia and Feng Zhiwei remained.

Feng Zhiwei entered the inner hall. This time the route she took was slightly different from before, taking a small detour. Eunuch Jia, a servant of many years accustomed to following behind others, followed her steps unaware. When the two stood before the secret door, their position was already different from last time.

This time Eunuch Jia still stood in place staring without blinking. Feng Zhiwei opened the secret door, walked up two steps, and suddenly turned back, barking, “Who’s there!”

Her expression showed shock. Eunuch Jia instinctively turned back. As someone who practiced martial arts, his conditioned reflex made him shift his stance.

With a rumbling sound, half a wall of the great hall suddenly descended. The entire hall echoed with a dull reverberation and trembled slightly. Eunuch Jia, thinking it was an earthquake, cried out in alarm and retreated backward.

His moment of distraction allowed Feng Zhiwei’s fingers to move—the golden arrow had already entered her sleeve. Through the mirror she saw Eunuch Jia had retreated out of monitoring range. Acting decisively, her finger slid along the golden casket’s seam. Her fingernail was fitted with a thinned diamond slice, supremely tough and sharp. With one stroke the golden casket broke open. Her fingers flew in swiftly, extracting a thin golden pouch and also stuffing it into her sleeve.

Completing all this took but an instant. Then she closed the secret door and rushed out, exclaiming, “What’s happening!”

Only then did Eunuch Jia regain his senses, staring in shock at the exposed underground secret hall, stammering, “…Don’t know how this came out…”

Feng Zhiwei pointed to a slight depression beneath his feet, saying, “Eunuch probably accidentally stepped on some mechanism. Try stepping again.”

Eunuch Jia stepped again. The wall slowly closed. Eunuch Jia wiped away sweat, his expression panicked. Feng Zhiwei smiled, “Today we saw nothing. Let’s go.”

By saying this, she was telling Eunuch Jia she wouldn’t reveal his mistaken triggering of the mechanism. Eunuch Jia felt grateful and, seeing the secret door had closed, quickly led Feng Zhiwei out again.

Before leaving the great hall, Feng Zhiwei looked back at that floor, a faint smile curving her lips.

Back when Ning Yi brought her to the secret hall, though he seemed composed when opening the mechanism, she had already observed everything. Now it had finally come in handy.

Outside, the “assassins” had already been scared away. The Tiansheng Emperor was also very weary and went to rest. Feng Zhiwei returned to her own quarters and first opened the golden pouch. Inside was a thin imperial edict. After reading it, her eyes flashed, and she carefully put it away.

Holding the command arrow, she pondered how to leave the Imperial Capital. Clearly, the Tiansheng Emperor’s time was within these one or two days. Both the Imperial Capital and the Luo County traveling palace would fall into great chaos. Ning Yi at this time must also be at his busiest. To leave, it had to be now!

The emperor controlled the vast majority of military forces around the Imperial Capital. The Tiger Might Grand Camp located between the Imperial Capital and Luo County had mobilized the day before yesterday—half entering the capital, half guarding the traveling palace. Cabinet ministers worked in the outer halls of the traveling palace, never leaving day or night. The Tiansheng Emperor’s choice not to use the imperial palace as his final resting place was probably from fear he’d die violently before even the posthumous edict could be issued.

She couldn’t alert anyone now—she still had to wait!

Feng Zhiwei didn’t sleep all night, keeping watch by the lamplight, listening quietly. In the darkness the wind sounded sparse. In the distant lake, reed marshes rustled—like the intermittent, prolonged breathing of one dying. That breathing pulled at the entire world; with each rise and fall, mountains and rivers collapsed.

This night, how many remained sleepless?

As dawn approached, chaotic footsteps sounded from afar. The emperor had lost consciousness three times last night. Now all ministers accompanying the traveling palace were summoned to audience!

Feng Zhiwei suddenly rose, arranged herself properly, and went out. Eunuch Jia was already waiting outside the door. Seeing her, he said quietly, “Grand Consort, please go see His Majesty…”

Throughout the realm, only this head eunuch who had served the Tiansheng Emperor since childhood knew which hall he slept in each night. Feng Zhiwei followed him to Qin Yun Pavilion in the rear hall, passing through ministers with tense, anxious expressions. She discovered Ning Yi and Ning Ji hadn’t yet arrived.

She entered the inner chamber. On the bed, the Tiansheng Emperor seemed to have withered even more overnight. It appeared last night’s fright had greatly harmed him—truly at the point where the oil was exhausted and the lamp dying. Seeing her, the old emperor’s eyes brightened. He extended his hand hazily, “Zhao’er… come…”

Feng Zhiwei heard him call his daughter’s name, and her heart ached, remembering when she used to call for her mother—where was she now?

The person before her was dying. Had she not completed the oath made to her mother? Should she really just let this cold-hearted man who drove her mother to death pass peacefully in his bed?

She gazed quietly at the Tiansheng Emperor, suddenly seized by a bold and mad idea.

She walked over and knelt before the Tiansheng Emperor’s bed. The imperial physicians and ministers around all silently knelt to the side at the emperor’s summons, making way from a distance.

The Tiansheng Emperor’s throat wheezed as he breathed, extending his hand to grasp hers.

His time was near, his mind confused. In other days he would never allow anyone to approach within three feet, much less physical contact.

Feng Zhiwei complied, letting him hold her hand.

The Tiansheng Emperor’s lips moved. At this moment in his eyes, Feng Zhiwei was that pampered daughter who had played at his knee since childhood, the one most devoted to him. Though later disappointed in her and distant, at life’s end he still wanted to be close to his daughter’s fragrance and softness.

It must be said that Feng Zhiwei’s face, so similar to Shaoning’s, played an enormous role. Otherwise she couldn’t have gained the old emperor’s smooth emotional transfer after his dying mental confusion.

His voice was extremely low. Feng Zhiwei tilted her head, bringing her ear close, seemingly listening intently.

The emperor’s speech was already slurred, with only a few barely distinguishable words, “…Zhao’er… I bestow you… to Wei…”

At this time he suddenly remembered his daughter’s marriage, wanting to arrange it before his death—pity that woman ultimately had no fortune to wait for this day.

But Feng Zhiwei’s heart stirred.

At such a critical moment, the emperor wasn’t urgently declaring who the new emperor would be but concerning himself with such small matters. Was it because the new emperor had already been decided long ago?

Her eye caught sight that several old ministers led by Grand Scholar Hu were not present. Her heart understood.

She knelt, listening extremely carefully, then said, “Yes. You want to see Prince Chu and Prince Kang. Your daughter will immediately go summon them.”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s breath caught in his throat. He stared wide-eyed at her. Feng Zhiwei looked at him, her lips slowly curving into an icy smile.

At this moment everyone knelt by the door. Only the two of them faced each other at the bedside—turbid, confused old eyes meeting autumn-water-clear, chilling eyes.

That smile seemed soaked for a thousand years in the deepest ice cavern of the netherworld, gleaming brilliantly with piercing cold.

A muffled gurgle emerged from the Tiansheng Emperor’s throat.

But Feng Zhiwei had already gently brought her head close. Her face tilted slightly, containing tears, her expression gentle and sorrowful. The earlier coldness had vanished—she looked just like a filial daughter grieving her father’s impending death.

She leaned close to the Tiansheng Emperor’s ear and said softly, “Your Majesty, I am Feng Zhiwei, but I’m not your daughter, nor am I the biological daughter of Madam Feng. My father is the Last Emperor of Great Cheng. My mother is the Virtuous Consort of Moon Chen Palace.”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s body suddenly convulsed. In an instant his eyes widened, his mouth opening to cry out—

“I’ve come to seize your… empire.” Feng Zhiwei smiled faintly. Her fingers tightened, sending a hidden force to first seal his mute acupoint, then about to destroy his meridians.

“Your Majesty—”

Suddenly a sharp cry rang out. A figure flashed in like lightning. Before the sound arrived the person had, ramming her shoulder and blocking Feng Zhiwei’s final killing strike.

As she rammed forward, her elbow bent. Concealed beneath her elbow, her fingers flashed blue. If Feng Zhiwei acted regardless, she’d immediately be struck.

Feng Zhiwei withdrew her hand, her body shifting aside. The newcomer raised her head—rouge deep red and slanting at the corner of her eyes, her gaze sharp as a falcon. It was Consort Qing.

Since “falsely accusing” Feng Zhiwei and Ning Yi, she’d been punished with confinement in the deep palace. Feng Zhiwei had been forced to accompany the emperor to Luo County. Ning Yi was at his busiest recently. Both had sent assassins to kill Consort Qing, yet this woman was like a centipede—dead but not stiff. Taking advantage of the emperor being away from the palace, she arranged all her forces around herself. Despite losing countless subordinates, she kept herself alive. That ruthlessness was as if she was determined to outlive both Ning Yi and Feng Zhiwei no matter what.

How she managed to break in at this moment was unknown.

Their gazes collided, seeming to spark. Feng Zhiwei saw she’d already thrown herself onto the emperor. Trying to act again was impossible. In any case, she’d already used her special technique to seal the emperor’s mute acupoint—it couldn’t be unlocked quickly. In any case, she’d already said what needed saying painfully and thoroughly. Now, she had to leave.

This woman must have her own plans. Since that was so, let her live a bit longer to tie up Ning Yi, lest he be too idle and obstruct her.

She’d leave as soon as she decided. She patted her skirt and stood, saying, “Yes, Father Emperor. Your daughter will personally summon Prince Chu and Prince Kang,” while smiling at Consort Qing and turning to walk away.

Consort Qing glared at her hatefully, wanting to say something, but at this moment she had more important matters to handle. Having finally made it here with great difficulty, she absolutely couldn’t waste more time fighting with Feng Zhiwei.

“Your Majesty…” She embraced the Tiansheng Emperor, weeping miserably. Previously there were things she dared not say, keeping them hidden, afraid speaking too early would get her killed. She’d taken painstaking efforts just to wait until today to speak. “Listen to me. You still have…”

Feng Zhiwei had already walked out quickly.

“His Majesty ordered me to summon Prince Chu and Prince Kang.” She calmly instructed the Imperial Guards. No one suspected anything. Immediately someone brought her a horse.

A contingent of Imperial Guards followed her back to the Imperial Capital. As they left the traveling palace grounds, Feng Zhiwei suddenly whistled.

A horse whinnied and a white shadow flashed. Xiao Bai, who’d been waiting by the official road in the woods, raised its hooves and galloped out.

Feng Zhiwei smiled, leaping onto Xiao Bai, saying, “Your horses are too slow and will delay matters. I’ll go first.”

She kicked the horse’s belly. Xiao Bai, pent up for several days, couldn’t wait any longer. It joyfully raised its hooves and flew forward. The guards only saw a white flash, and Feng Zhiwei was already ten zhang away.

The guards stared dumbly at her retreating figure. Unable to catch up, after a long while they said blankly, “Is that a horse?”

From Luo County to the Imperial Capital, Feng Zhiwei took only a quarter hour. With the command arrow in hand, she passed unobstructed all the way back to the capital. The atmosphere in the capital was indeed even more tense—guards every three steps, sentries every five. She even faintly heard that the Seventh Prince who’d been supervising troops abroad somehow got word and suddenly returned to the capital, only to be blocked outside the city. An atmosphere of approaching storm filled everywhere. Even street vendors sensed the unease and closed up shop early.

Of course Feng Zhiwei wouldn’t go summon Prince Chu and Prince Kang. She returned to the mansion, first ordering all Blood Floating Butcher guards to change into uniforms of the Long Tassel Guard that had been prepared long ago, then brazenly headed straight for the city gate.

The city gate was strictly controlled—entry permitted, exit forbidden. Feng Zhiwei rode up in splendid attire and spirited horse, flourishing the golden arrow, “Prince Chu and Prince Kang are about to be summoned to the Luo County traveling palace. I’m going ahead to report to His Majesty. Make way!”

The gate official looked at the command arrow and froze, then shouted loudly, “Prince Chu just left the city! What do you mean ‘about to be summoned to the traveling palace’?”

Feng Zhiwei froze, inwardly crying out in dismay. She’d originally calculated that Ning Yi must be stationed in the capital at this moment—internally restraining ministers of the Seventh Prince’s faction, externally blocking the Seventh Prince who’d secretly returned to the capital. She hadn’t expected he could spare time to leave the city at such a moment. Now she’d let something slip—what to do?

“Is there something wrong with your ears?” From a soft sedan beside her, someone suddenly poked their head out and said, “Clearly the Shunyi Grand Consort said Prince Chu’s younger brother Prince Kang is about to be summoned to the traveling palace!”

Feng Zhiwei turned her head and discovered that person was actually Qian Yan.

Qian Yan had been her capable assistant when she was Wei Zhi. Later when Wei Zhi was “demoted” to serve as Provincial Inspector, she’d planned to arrange a lucrative capital position for Qian Yan. Unexpectedly Qian Yan still insisted on going to Northern Mountain. She couldn’t very well refuse, so she let him follow a step behind. Knowing that fake Wei Zhi certainly couldn’t fool Qian Yan, sure enough before long Qian Yan managed to return to the Imperial Capital. Now he worked as a censor in the Censorate.

Qian Yan’s sudden intervention—had he already guessed something? Back when she left the capital, she’d hosted a banquet for officials, nominating Ning Yi as Crown Prince. Qian Yan had participated too. Thinking carefully about before and after, he might well have guessed something.

With Qian Yan’s interjection, the gate official indeed froze, thought for a while, then smiled sheepishly and moved aside.

Feng Zhiwei swept out of the city gate like the wind. Qian Yan followed her out as well, following all the way to a quiet, secluded place with few people. Feng Zhiwei turned back and bowed, “Thank you, Lord Qian, for resolving the situation.”

Qian Yan gazed quietly at her. After a long while he also smiled, “Thank you, Grand Consort, for never exposing me all this time.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled wryly.

Qian Yan was Ning Yi’s man.

She’d always known.

That night at the Golden Terrace with a round of wine, one cup released Ning Yi’s royal power. She’d acted so secretly, so decisively, yet that very night Ning Yi extremely quickly got word and restrained all officials third rank and above, minimizing the impact to the smallest scope.

Afterward analyzing, there must be a Ning Yi spy by her side—and one who could participate in confidential matters.

Who else but Qian Yan? This man originally came from an official family in the Imperial Capital. At Qingming Academy he’d followed Ning Yi carousing through the capital along with Yao Yangyu and the others. Young Yao and the others were all Ning Yi’s close associates—why wouldn’t Qian Yan be?

Knowing this, she still didn’t expose him. Without Qian Yan there’d still be Wang Yan, Liu Yan, Li Yan—Ning Yi had plenty of methods. Why bother with more trouble?

“Since Lord Qian is waiting here,” Feng Zhiwei smiled, “presumably Prince Chu ordered you to intercept me. Why didn’t you?”

“This humble official’s life was saved by the Grand Consort. The Grand Consort saved Qian Yan’s life and worked hard to manage my career.” Qian Yan solemnly bowed. “Yan has served two masters, shaming the Grand Consort, yet I’m not so utterly conscienceless. Risking His Highness’s reproach, I must still repay this life-saving grace.”

“In that case, my thanks.” Feng Zhiwei nodded. “Mountains are high, waters are long—we’ll meet again another day.”

She turned her horse to leave. Behind her, Qian Yan suddenly called out to her. After hesitating, he said, “Grand Consort, don’t take the water route. The Jianghuai naval forces have already been transferred by His Highness. That route won’t work.”

“Good, thank you.” Feng Zhiwei agreed very readily. Suddenly she raised her hand and tossed the command arrow over, “Once outside the capital’s gates, the command arrow is useless. I give it to you!”

Qian Yan’s expression trembled. He bowed to receive the command arrow. Feng Zhiwei smiled, leading her people away at a gallop.

Qian Yan watched her retreating figure for a long time, light flashing in his eyes. After a while, someone approached from behind. A rider came forward asking, “Why is Lord Qian here? Did you intercept anyone?”

Qian Yan turned back, smiling, “I’ve waited all day—no one. Please report to His Highness that the Grand Consort did not leave the city from here.”

“Alright.” The person spurred his horse away.

After this person left, in the nearby woods, a black shadow also silently flashed away.

Only Qian Yan remained in place, weighing the command arrow in his palm, murmuring, “Truly worthy of being Tiansheng’s foremost capable minister—a divine person indeed…”

While Qian Yan stood marveling, Feng Zhiwei hadn’t rushed on ahead either. She reined in her horse three li away to wait.

After a while, a black shadow flashed out—a Blood Floating Butcher guard responsible for monitoring Qian Yan’s movements reported, “Master, Qian Yan indeed didn’t lie. He told Prince Chu’s subordinate that you didn’t leave the city.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled slightly.

“Then his suggestion should be workable.” A guard said. “Can’t take the water route—we’ll take the land route.”

“Wrong.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled at everyone’s astonished gazes, “Not to take the water route.”

“We’re taking the water route.”

The Blood Floating Butcher guards showed expressions of sincere admiration.

“But ultimately I’m still taking the water route.” Feng Zhiwei dropped another bombshell, stunning everyone again.

“Your meaning is…”

“How is the land route any safer?” Feng Zhiwei said. “From Luo County downward, Jianghuai garrison troops will surely be densely deployed on the roads. If the posthumous edict doesn’t name the Seventh Prince as successor, the Tiger Might Grand Camp will certainly split forces to block him. Layer upon layer of checkpoints—how easy would it be for me to pass through unscathed?”

“Then now…”

“It’s not easy, but after I threw the command arrow to Qian Yan, everything became different.” Feng Zhiwei raised her face, squinting her eyes, thinking that now, she and Ning Yi were once again engaged in silent, invisible competition without facing each other. A faint smile curved her lips. “Soon Ning Yi will succeed to the throne. The command arrow I’m carrying is useless—just a clue for tracking me. But when I gave the command arrow to him, he can use it to command all garrison troops in neighboring counties. How could he let this opportunity slip? The Seventh Prince’s private army is currently between Jianghuai and the Imperial Capital. If he transfers the Jianghuai naval forces downstream to coordinate with local garrison troops in a pincer attack, by then the Seventh Prince surrounded left and right, facing the Tiger Might Grand Camp head-on—how could he not be defeated? Ning Yi’s greatest weakness is insufficient military strength. Controlling the capital region means he can’t cover outside the capital. Now with the command arrow in hand, the grand army will certainly move. Once the Jianghuai naval forces are transferred, the water route ambush won’t exist. So I’ll go by land first, then water. Rest assured—for Ning Yi, obtaining the throne is more important than anything. Naturally he won’t have time to catch me.”

“Is it possible His Highness might still prioritize capturing you, Master…”

Feng Zhiwei laughed heartily, though her laughter held no joy. She said lightly, “No, he won’t. If he abandoned the fundamental for the trivial, giving up the throne just to trap me, he wouldn’t be Ning Yi.”

She lowered her eyes, her fingers gently stroking her horse whip. A sentence remained unspoken in her heart.

He and I are the same kind of people. Because we’re too alike, we understand each other too well, too clearly each other’s choices.

You scheme against me, I scheme against you—in the end our situations are inextricably entangled.

The common man is innocent, but possessing a jade disk invites disaster,” she made a gesture of throwing everything away, smiling. “Throw out the jade disk for them to fight over, and we can fish in troubled waters and leave.

Outside the Imperial Capital, Feng Zhiwei cast everything aside, while at the Luo County traveling palace, Ning Yi was walking toward everything that was his.

Almost the moment Feng Zhiwei left the traveling palace with a forged edict to find him, Ning Yi entered the palace. The two could have met on the official road, but they missed each other because Feng Zhiwei took a shortcut.

Before Qin Yun Pavilion, the spring breeze supported the willows, yet the human shadows were more chaotic than willow branches. Amid the commotion, Consort Qing embraced the Tiansheng Emperor, recklessly channeling her precious vital energy into that aging body while whispering low in his ear, “Your Majesty… please preserve your precious golden body… This consort can finally tell you today… that day this consort’s son did not die… he still lives!”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s eyes suddenly flew open, brilliant light bursting from his turbid eyes, but it dimmed instantly—his body like a candle in the wind, repeatedly shocked, had long lost any spirit to respond further.

Consort Qing grew anxious. She’d painstakingly hidden that child, not daring to let him appear early lest he be harmed by others, all for the chance at the end to completely turn the tables. Unfortunately, the case accusing Feng Zhiwei of being a Great Cheng remnant had fallen through at the last moment, preventing her from approaching the Tiansheng Emperor recently, causing her to miss entirely the final opportunity when the emperor drafted his posthumous edict. Today she’d finally reached the emperor’s bedside with great difficulty. If the emperor couldn’t wait for this moment, forget realizing her Empress Dowager dream—even her life would be hard to preserve.

Seeing the emperor’s expression weakening, Consort Qing panicked. Gritting her teeth, she sent over her last bit of true power, then took out a golden pendant from her chest, extracted a medicinal pill from it, and quickly fed it into the Tiansheng Emperor’s mouth—this was a life-preserving pill she’d obtained from overseas with great effort after entering the palace, feeling danger everywhere. There were two altogether. She’d used one and indeed her power greatly increased with no illnesses. This one she’d treasured like a gem, saving it for life-or-death moments. Now with the situation urgent, she couldn’t care about the waste.

As soon as she administered the medicine here, the imperial physicians came to stop her. She viciously shoved them aside. As her sleeve swept out, she was inwardly alarmed—her hands felt weak and powerless, her internal organs empty. Her true power was exhausted. She must rest well in the short term and couldn’t fight anymore.

After the alarm came peace of mind. Feng Zhiwei had already left the capital. Ning Yi must remain stationed in the capital to deal with the Seventh Prince. She’d secretly transmitted news of the emperor’s imminent death to the Seventh Prince far in the south. Sure enough, he’d returned regardless of everything. With him restraining Ning Yi, who at the Luo County traveling palace could touch her?

She knelt forward a step, leaning against the bed, urgently saying by the emperor’s ear, “Your Majesty, please wait a moment. Prince Kang will bring him right away…”

Then she heard footsteps. Looking back, Prince Kang Ning Ji was supporting his heir coming over, with several old ministers following behind.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty, look, look!” Consort Qing joyfully rushed out, snatching the child from Ning Ji’s side and carrying him to the Tiansheng Emperor’s bedside. “Because someone plotted to harm this consort and this consort’s child, this consort placed the child in Prince Kang’s care, falsely claiming he was Prince Kang’s second son… Look at his features, this nose, this mouth, this face… he is your son!”

That child stared wide-eyed in confusion, not knowing what to do. His features and expression indeed bore some resemblance to the Tiansheng Emperor. The emperor stared at the child, light fluctuating in his eyes, extending his hand to slowly touch the child’s face.

Consort Qing quickly pushed the child forward, bringing his face under the Tiansheng Emperor’s hand, half crying, half laughing, “Your Majesty… Your Majesty… he is truly and genuinely your son… If you don’t believe it, we can also do a blood recognition ceremony…”

Hearing these words, the Tiansheng Emperor’s face suddenly changed dramatically. His pale complexion instantly turned ghastly blue-green, a deathly black color appearing between his brows, his eyes rolling straight upward, looking about to faint.

Consort Qing hadn’t expected him to react so strongly to these words, nor had she expected the emperor could no longer speak. The emperor’s expression made her heart sink heavily. She quickly turned back to call Ning Ji, “Prince Kang, speak up! Tell His Majesty this child was raised by you on my behalf. Speak quickly!”

Ning Ji looked at her quietly. After a long while, he stepped forward and whispered softly in her ear, “Consort, that day you said the imperial sons were withering away, hoping I would help you preserve His Majesty’s bloodline. You said your only thought was to save this child’s life. You said Sixth Brother knowing of this younger brother’s existence would never let him live. You swore that as long as I told no one of his identity and preserved his life, you mother and son would never covet imperial power—what are you doing today?”

Under his gaze, Consort Qing shrank back, then smiled and said softly, “This palace’s oath naturally remains effective. Prince Kang, you needn’t worry. What virtue and ability does this palace possess to dare compete with Prince Chu for the throne? This palace just didn’t want His Majesty to pass away without knowing of Qi’er’s existence, didn’t want Qi’er unable to see his biological father one last time. With kin so close at hand yet biological father and son unable to recognize each other for life—how cruel is that? Can Your Highness bear it?”

She knelt forward a step, gripping Ning Ji’s arm tightly. Tears already flowed as she spoke, “…Your Highness, you are most compassionate and kind. These years watching brothers die violently one by one, you also feel bad, don’t you?… Now even the princess has gone… This last young brother, you must look after him at least…”

Her upturned face was tear-stained like pear blossoms in rain, a branch of red beauty holding condensed fragrance. Her countenance combined a woman’s mature charm and a maiden’s delicate allure, looking pitiful. Her glance softened one’s heart. Ning Ji’s face reddened. He quickly pulled away her hand and moved aside. That day too, he’d softened under Consort Qing’s tearful pleas and done something that betrayed Sixth Brother. He’d thought to protect this child’s life but never intended to affect Sixth Brother’s great enterprise. He was kind but not foolish—how could he not see what Consort Qing intended to do?

Seeing his expression, Consort Qing’s heart grew colder. When she’d originally used Shaoning’s child to impersonate her newborn son, then entrusted her own child to Ning Ji, it was the result of careful consideration from all angles. Looking across the palace and court situation, there was truly no one else to entrust. Ning Yi’s forces were massive—she could barely protect herself, much less shield a young child. And the most dangerous place was actually the safest. Even if Ning Yi thought through the entire world, he’d never imagine her child hadn’t died but was being raised under his most beloved brother’s knee!

Though Ning Ji had an excellent relationship with Ning Yi, Ning Yi, out of protection for this brother, didn’t let him touch court struggles nor absorbed him into the Prince Chu faction. So Ning Ji and Ning Yi didn’t interact much. He had no scheming mind, was indifferent to competition, and was kind and honest. Using the withering of Ning brothers as her reason, she’d moved Ning Ji and indeed received his promise worth a thousand gold, having him raise her child under the false claim of his heir at the prince’s mansion. When revealed in the future, with Ning Ji testifying, it would be more powerful than anyone else. It might even stimulate Ning Yi into losing his composure. She’d thought this plan excellent, and facts proved she’d indeed done right.

However today, some things seemed to have slipped beyond her control.

“Prince Kang…” She tried to grab Ning Ji’s arm again. Ning Ji flashed aside to avoid her.

“Consort, if you’re truly willing to honor your oath from that day,” Ning Ji said, “please leave immediately now. Then naturally I’ll tell Father Emperor what I should say.”

Consort Qing froze.

Make her leave?

If she left, the child was so small, and Ning Ji helped Ning Yi—who would strike while the iron was hot to make the emperor change the successor at the last moment?

Others might think modifying the posthumous edict at the last moment absurd, but she knew clearly this possibility was great. The old emperor wasn’t satisfied with any of his sons. Though he favored Ning Yi, he’d always hesitated because of a nightmare-like prophecy. She’d heard his sleep talk and vaguely guessed the general idea. When she’d secretly transmitted news of the emperor’s serious illness to the Seventh Prince, the Tiansheng Emperor clearly knew yet pretended not to—she knew then the old emperor’s heart held no decision. He’d rather use the capital as a battlefield, letting his sons fight it out. Even if the posthumous edict named Ning Yi as successor, if he lacked the ability to secure the throne, the Tiansheng Emperor wouldn’t mind if Seventh Brother seized it.

When there was no good choice, whoever won took the empire!

So in the emperor’s heart, he very much hoped for a new choice. And she believed in her own weight in the emperor’s heart. She was intelligent and keen, yet had no powerful maternal family background. With her becoming Empress Dowager assisting a young emperor, it would be more proper than handing the empire to Ning Yi bearing an inauspicious prophecy or to the Seventh Prince whose maternal clan’s power was considerable!

No, she couldn’t leave. She’d waited all along for this moment—how could she fail at the last step?

“Your Highness, do you want to kill me…” She looked at Ning Ji pleadingly, tears streaming, “You should know… once I leave this door… it’s death for me…”

She collapsed on the ground, weeping miserably, clutching Ning Ji’s robe hem and not letting go, delicate as a dust-covered flower.

On the bed, the Tiansheng Emperor’s face flushed with the red of a final rally, glaring at the people on the ground, his fingers trembling as they struck the bed edge.

Ning Ji’s face turned crimson. Wanting to leave but unable to, wanting to pull Consort Qing away, her sleeves slid down—everywhere he touched was slippery smooth, scaring him into quickly withdrawing his hand. After a long while, gritting his teeth and stamping his foot, he said, “Fine, I’ll speak one sentence for you, then you leave immediately!”

“Good…” Consort Qing trembled, revealing a joyful smile.

The smile had just reached her lips when she suddenly saw Ning Ji’s expression freeze. She also felt the surroundings quiet down. Behind her came the sound of people tiptoeing away. Various chaotic breathing all tightened.

She froze, her eyes glancing down to see a tall black shadow cast over the bed, blocking the sunlight ahead.

Her fingers curled up, tightly gripping the emperor’s sleeve as she slowly turned her head.

At the doorway, Ning Yi in plain light robes smiled at her amid a ground of apricot blossom light and shadow.

Consort Qing felt a wave of panic, not expecting Ning Yi would dare not stay in the capital at this moment but run to Luo County. Did he know something?

Then she calmed down, slowly standing and pressing close to the Tiansheng Emperor.

Ning Yi’s gaze shifted, sweeping past the imperial physicians kneeling in the corner wishing they could shrink into the wall. With his eyes he forced them out. Only after everyone in the room had retreated to below the steps did he smile faintly, “Everyone’s here together.”

Ning Ji gaped, staring blankly at his sixth brother. But Ning Yi didn’t even glance at him, only staring at that frightened child.

Consort Qing’s son.

How ridiculous.

He’d even personally struck Zhiwei one palm for this enemy’s child.

That night at the Third Prince’s mansion, he’d seen with his own eyes her deadly strike at Ning Ji’s heir. In furious rage, one palm had split forth, gaining her blood splashing in his face.

Her departing sorrowful laugh, that phrase “Keep your precious younger brother watched closely”—at first hearing seemed like a threat, yet upon careful consideration, revealed a deeper meaning.

Was she threatening, or reminding him of something?

Once suspicious, discovering the truth became easy. When he understood that child’s identity, his heart fell into a deep well.

After a thousand calculations, he hadn’t calculated that the enemy was in his own camp.

And he’d nearly been led by Consort Qing to redirect disaster eastward, leading him to strike at Zhiwei with killing intent.

He smiled, walking forward, toward Ning Ji.

Ning Ji’s face flushed as he knelt before him with a thud. But Ning Yi’s body suddenly flashed, charging straight at Consort Qing!

Consort Qing, who’d been watching him closely, quickly blocked with her body. In that split second, she suddenly thought—right now the Tiansheng Emperor, herself, and her son, not one could die. She was alone—how could she protect three people?

In the rush she made a sharp sound. A black shadow flashed as two black-clothed figures dropped from the beams, standing right before the Tiansheng Emperor’s bed.

Ning Yi, rushing halfway, stopped his steps, looking at those two expressionless black-clothed figures, and smiled.

“Consort Qing is truly deeply favored by the emperor,” he said. “I wondered why when you rushed close earlier, not one of His Majesty’s shadows appeared. So His Majesty even gave you the shadows to command.”

Consort Qing smiled smugly, but her smile only unfolded halfway before stopping.

Ning Yi spread his palm open. A “As If I Were Personally Present” golden plaque gleamed brilliantly in his hand.

“The shadows only obey imperial commands,” Ning Yi said indifferently. “And the realm now belongs to me.”

Consort Qing drew in a cold breath. The two shadow guards, seeing that plaque, silently bowed and immediately vanished.

Consort Qing desperately threw herself before the Tiansheng Emperor’s bed. Ning Yi smiled and stepped forward, kicking her body that had lost its true power aside with one foot. She collapsed against the wall, unable to move.

He stood before her, bending to look at her desperate yet resentful eyes. The corner of his eye swept past that child as he said faintly, “That night years ago, that child who inexplicably died in my arms—you had someone shoot him to death?”

That night Zhiwei had entrusted the child to him. He’d prepared to immediately have someone spirit him away. Unexpectedly, turning a street corner, a cold arrow shot forth, instantly killing that infant.

That child died in his arms. Everyone believed Consort Qing’s child had died at his hands.

Yet it turned out she’d sent someone to kill him.

Consort Qing didn’t answer, coldly laughing, her face showing pride.

That night, that arrow—what it killed was not just Shaoning’s son used as a substitute. What it killed even more was the last entrustment of trust between Feng Zhiwei and Ning Yi.

A Great Cheng descendant Feng Zhiwei, a Ning Yi who deceived her—both were her enemies. How could she let them join forces with one heart?

True revenge wasn’t white knife in, red knife out killing. It was making people who wanted to love and be close to each other have no choice but to painfully break apart.

“Whose child was that?” Ning Yi stared coldly at her. Consort Qing smiled charmingly at him, saying softly, “Died in your hands—don’t you know whose it was? But no matter whose it was, as long as Feng Zhiwei believed it was mine, that was enough.”

Ning Yi smiled without mirth, then suddenly grabbed that child.

“Don’t touch him!” The smug look on Consort Qing’s face immediately vanished completely. Having no strength, she grabbed at Ning Ji’s ankle, weeping and pleading, “Your Highness! Your Highness! You painstakingly raised Qi’er all these years, your affection like father and son… Can you bear him being harmed before your eyes… Save him… save him…”

Ning Ji’s expression changed, wanting to step forward. Ning Yi suddenly turned back, coldly saying, “Tenth Brother, if you want to doom your sixth brother, come right up.”

Ning Ji’s body froze.

Ning Yi ignored him further, leading that child and smiling as he approached the Tiansheng Emperor whose throat rattled on the bed. Unlike Consort Qing’s panic, at one glance he saw the emperor’s mute acupoint had been sealed. Casually he released it.

With his mute acupoint released, the Tiansheng Emperor coughed loudly, his expression growing more exhausted. Ning Yi whispered softly in his ear, “Father Emperor, Seventh Brother has finally come, bringing a batch of private troops trapped between Jianghuai and the capital, a thousand li of weary soldiers, ambushed and raided several times along the way… Hehe, rest assured, he will certainly die before Luo County.”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s body trembled. He made a low “ah” sound. In his final rally his mind was clear. At this moment he already understood—Ning Yi feared that after succeeding to the throne, the Seventh Prince would simply hold troops for self-importance in the south, becoming another separatist force. So he’d deliberately let Consort Qing leak the news, luring the Seventh Prince to rush back a thousand li regardless of everything. Exhausted troops traveling far—how could they withstand his prepared ambush?

This son’s deep scheming was already rare. Now it was just another lesson learned.

A bitter smile appeared at the corner of the Tiansheng Emperor’s lips. He looked toward that child below the bed. Since Ning Yi had arrived, naturally no changes would occur. His throat hoarse, he extended his hand, gently, with a bit of pleading, “Let me look… look at him… just look…”

Ning Yi held that child’s pulse point, his fingertips pressing slightly. Blood color surged on the child’s face, then immediately turned snow white. Ning Yi smiled, placing the child’s hand in the Tiansheng Emperor’s palm, saying softly, “…Look, Father Emperor. Actually this son also feels this child’s constitution is very good… If you’re willing, passing the throne to him is also an excellent plan… Only just now this son took his pulse… This child probably won’t live past age seven…”

He smiled, staring into the Tiansheng Emperor’s eyes, saying softly, “What a pity.”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s fingers had just been about to touch that child’s hand. Hearing this, his face paled, his fingers falling dejectedly. He glared at Ning Yi. After a long while, he said angrily, “Unfilial son… unfilial son…”

Ning Yi nodded deeply in agreement, “Yes, you have many unfilial sons. Fortunately they’re all dead now.”

The Tiansheng Emperor closed his eyes, seeming to accumulate strength. After a while, he turned his eyes away, seeming to search for someone. Seeing Eunuch Jia on the steps, his eyes lit up. He made eye contact.

But Old Jia didn’t move, making a bitter face and signaling to the Tiansheng Emperor. With dim old eyes, the emperor looked for a long time before vaguely seeing he was being controlled by someone.

“Does Your Majesty want Eunuch Jia to fetch the command arrow?” Ning Yi smiled faintly. His sleeve moved, revealing a brilliant golden corner. “No need to trouble yourself. The command arrow is with this son. Thank you, Father Emperor, for finally being willing to hand command of the three hundred thousand Tiger Might Grand Camp to this son.”

“You…” A breath stuck in the Tiansheng Emperor’s throat, unable to go up or down, choking until his eyes rolled white.

In his earlier agitation, he’d wanted Eunuch Jia to take the command arrow and secret decree to find Seventh Brother, giving him a chance to turn defeat into victory. But this unfilial son, step by step, watertight—how would he give anyone the slightest chance for regret?

A hazy thought flitted through his mind—the command arrow matter was absolutely secret. How did it get to Ning Yi? What about the secret decree?

The old emperor gasped urgently, his body gradually softening. After a moment of agitation came clarity. Now at this point, what more could be done? Though this son had a wolf’s ambition, the more ruthless and severe he was, the more the emperor set down his heart. Soft-hearted mercy didn’t befit an emperor. Ruthless and solitary isolation was precisely the emperor’s art. Originally still worried about that inauspicious prophecy of overturning the realm, at this moment he wasn’t worried anymore.

A Ning Yi who’d obtained the throne through such arduous steps—how would he bear to overturn the realm!

He gasped urgently, suddenly remembering earlier events. He grabbed Ning Yi’s hand, urgently saying, “As you say… all as you say… the realm is yours… but you must… must for me kill that Feng… wind… Feng…”

“Feng Zhiwei,” Ning Yi smiled, reminding him.

“Right! Feng Zhiwei!” The old emperor’s eyes blazed with cold light, using all his strength to nod.

Ning Yi smiled at him, gently smoothing his disheveled white hair. Then he bent over, at his ear, saying low, “No. Whoever dies, she won’t die.”

“You—” The Tiansheng Emperor grabbed Ning Yi’s lapel, hanging his entire body on his garment, “You—you—”

“Because,” Ning Yi smiled, gripping his shoulder and slowly prying him off, “I love her.”

“Thud.”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s body fell onto the bed, making a muffled sound.

The hand gripping Ning Yi’s shoulder spasmed a few times, then slowly fell. The aged, withered fingers like several lifeless brown tree branches spread lifelessly on the embroidered and gilded bedding.

In the end, this body couldn’t escape that day. Even emperors and generals, a lifetime of achievements—ultimately coming like flowing water, going like wind.

Ning Yi maintained his half-bent posture, gazing long at that old, slack face.

This man had trapped him, suppressed him, restrained him, harmed him, guarded against him until death, even at life’s end still thinking of overturning him.

Bearing pressure like a towering mountain all along this road, arriving at today—the cold imperial family’s crushing rivalry removed from his left shoulder, yet infinite blood-and-fire empire loaded on his right.

The difficult road walked to today hadn’t reached its end. Behind him, black clouds still churned and surged, awaiting him.

Half-awake in this floating life, he stood in the middle, gazing deeply at the road ahead and the road behind.

Vast misty clouds—where was that person?

Not knowing when, below the steps knelt a ground full of high officials in silk hats and insignia, with unprecedented devout expressions, performing mountain-call prostrations to him. Soon, the three cabinet ministers would read aloud his succession edict in the palace’s main hall.

Ning Yi smiled faintly, no smile in his eyes.

Outside the window, spring light was fine.

The seventeenth day of the fourth month, twentieth year of Changxi.

The Tiansheng Emperor who’d reigned twenty years passed away.

The Sixth Imperial Prince Ning Yi ascended the throne, establishing the era name: Fengxiang (Phoenix Soaring).

In the first year of Fengxiang, the twelve tribes of Hu Zhuo sent troops from the grasslands. Under the walls of Yu Prefecture, they raised the rebel banner, turning their weapons to counterattack the interior. When Yu Prefecture prepared for the famous Shunyi Iron Cavalry to tread toward the city walls, the Hu Zhuo army miraculously suddenly turned direction again, brushing past Yu Prefecture and turning toward Long North, joining with the Qingyang Sect followers who’d risen in Long North, occupying most of Long North. Together with the Changning Domain General, they split Long North in two. Then Hua Qiong exited through Min South’s Mayu Pass. Xi Liang sent troops to the Inner Sea to tie down the South Sea General’s forces. The Qi father and son’s forces marched south to occupy Mountain South. Half the realm’s territory momentarily no longer fell under Tiansheng’s rule.

War blazed throughout Tiansheng’s south. Strangely, neither common people nor the warring sides suffered excessive losses in this war. Because whenever grand armies arrived, local garrison troops quickly contracted and evacuated cities, not formally engaging the rebel forces. And rebel generals mostly came from common backgrounds, so naturally they didn’t disturb the people. One could say the former left and the latter entered—like peaceful takeover, occupying nearly half of Tiansheng’s territory with almost no bloodshed. By that appearance, Tiansheng’s empire had easily and effortlessly been overturned halfway into the Fire Phoenix Army’s hands.

The Fire Phoenix Army was fine with this. No battles to fight meant no battles—following Hua Qiong’s wishes, he was also unwilling to face former comrades like Chunyu Meng and Yao Yangyu on the battlefield. Only the battle-loving, martial Shunyi Iron Cavalry suffered, wailing chaotically while brandishing nearly dulled blades, daily chopping trees to sharpen their knives.

In this war, some names spread magnificently—Hua Qiong, Hang Ming, the Qi father and son, the Shunyi Iron Cavalry. These Fire Phoenix Army soul figures, with their respective martial prowess and fierceness, became famous throughout the realm. Only many people speculated that these heroes each leading armies, though appearing to act independently, seemed tied to one person’s hand, commanded by a behind-the-scenes figure as if directing their own limbs. What kind of person could become the heart and soul of these peerless figures, making everyone submit to their command? For a long time, this remained a mystery.

In the third year of Fengxiang, when the Fire Phoenix and Shunyi Iron Cavalry occupied nearly half of Tiansheng’s territory, incorporating the vast territory from the Hu Lun grasslands in the north to Tianshui Pass in the south under their rule, this mysterious figure finally surfaced.

In July of that year, the Fire Phoenix and Shunyi Iron Cavalry joined forces at Wan County in Min South. Outside Wan County on Phoenix Rising Slope, with majestic military formations, banners like fire, an army stretching dozens of li awaited their true master.

That day, Feng Zhiwei in black robes on a white horse galloped through the midst of ten thousand troops. Behind her horse’s hooves, flying dust trailed like a line, piercing straight through one hundred thousand iron-armored battle formations. Hundreds of thousands of warriors raised their arms in unison. Blue-black iron armor splashed brilliant golden sunlight harshly.

That day, under the banners, oaths were sworn. Dozens of corrupt officials’ heads were severed. In the ground of fresh blood, the black-robed woman with composed expression calmly mounted the platform under the astonished gazes of the multitude, accepting the prostrations of those admired, renowned generals. At that time, standing on the high platform in simple black robes, her raven hair blacker than her black clothes, her complexion whiter and more crystalline than the pale sky’s clouds, her autumn-water-misty eyes swept quietly—everyone in that instant thought of the eternal snow mountains standing majestically at the distant horizon.

Far, unreachably distant, yet eternally present, indestructible.

That day, Feng Zhiwei said faintly, “Sons and brothers, today you and I finally have one nation, a place of peace and happiness for the realm. Hereafter the young will have support, the old will have care, the masses will prosper together, sharing with Heaven.”

Said casually, yet her voice was clearly heard by hundreds of thousands of troops. After a moment of silence, hundreds of thousands raised their arms and stood their blades. In the thunderous cheering, brilliant blade light gathered like pillars, piercing the southeastern sky.

That day, Great Cheng announced the restoration of the nation, establishing its capital at Wan County. Wan County was renamed Wan Capital. Feng Zhiwei ascended the throne as Great Cheng’s Empress, with the era name: Tianxiang (Heavenly Enjoyment).

That day, the generals stood behind Feng Zhiwei. Amid the glory of ten thousand eyes were also shallow doubts—the Cheng army seemed victorious, but actually its foundation was unstable, like a grand mansion built on muddy marshland. One rather fierce counterattack could potentially bring collapse. The road to seizing a nation had always been repeatedly difficult. Everyone had prepared for long-term combat, lying low and waiting. Build high walls, store abundant grain, delay claiming kingship—Feng Zhiwei shouldn’t fail to understand this principle. Yet she so hastily proclaimed herself empress, even establishing the capital at Wan County, this frontier city far from the interior, close to Xi Liang. What exactly was she calculating?

That day, atop Wan County’s city walls, Feng Zhiwei turned back, looking northward, as if seeing across the river on that fertile land, behind the nine-dragon crown and diadem, at the pinnacle of the throne unsupported on all sides, that person’s eyes deep, gazing at this direction.

Banners fluttering, red clouds churning, she stood silently beneath the banner. On that distant side beyond mountains and seas, with one sweep of her sleeve, she drew the Chu River-Han border between them.

The realm so vast, you and I each occupy half. Hereafter like Shen and Shang, twin stars with no prospect of meeting.

One year later.

Wan Capital.

North of the city, a majestic building stood in the darkness, dimly lit with several lampfires, looking like an ordinary wealthy residence.

But the citizens of Wan Capital all knew this seemingly inconspicuous building was precisely the core location of the Great Cheng regime—the Empress’s palace.

This large residence serving as an imperial palace was truly somewhat shabby, but the Empress had said that with the nation still unsettled and the people still uneasy, personal enjoyment could be set aside. In the year since ascending the throne, she’d insisted on not building an imperial palace.

The citizens of Wan Capital spoke of this Empress with unanimous praise. Originally when the Cheng army occupied Wan County, the people had been quite fearful, fleeing the city. However, the Empress’s subordinates maintained extremely strict military discipline and never disturbed the people. After the Empress established the capital here, all government affairs were extremely orderly. Policies regarding culture and education, industry and commerce, agriculture, taxation, official governance, and so on were all very appropriate. The people’s lives gradually stabilized.

The “palace” had no stern guards, no extending high walls. Citizens living north of the city, sitting atop their own walls, could see the Empress’s nightly unextinguished lamplight, sighing, “Her Majesty is again reviewing memorials through the night. Truly exhausting.”

Moonlight crossed over the high roof ridge, reflecting the indoor candlelight even brighter. Under the candlelight, Feng Zhiwei propped her head, listening to Hang Ming report on recent conditions in Changning.

As the earliest rebellious domain, Changning had early occupied part of Mountain South and half of Long North, confronting Tiansheng’s interior across the river. It had already established its own regime, with the state name Great Xing. Lu Zhiyan had ascended the throne as emperor. However, the territory Changning occupied was somewhat awkward, positioned precisely between Great Cheng and Tiansheng, like filling trapped between two halves of a shell. Though Changning had early formed an alliance with Great Cheng, this situation ultimately wasn’t a long-term plan. For Changning, either advance one more step to occupy Tiansheng territory and escape the encircled position, or plunder Feng Zhiwei’s half of Long North, splitting Feng Zhiwei’s territory in two. Judging by Lu Zhiyan’s current strength, the latter was more possible.

As Long North Border Grand Commander, Hang Ming’s main enemy was Changning. He’d rushed to Wan Capital because Changning seemed to show stirring movements. He came to ask Feng Zhiwei for a countermeasure.

“Understood.” After listening, Feng Zhiwei nodded, “Your side lacks troops. I’ll have Hua Qiong bring part of the Fire Phoenix Army as reinforcement. Lu Zhiyan may not directly act. Be careful and vigilant as the priority.”

“Yes.”

Hang Ming departed. Feng Zhiwei sat in silence with closed eyes for a long while, then extinguished the lamp.

After extinguishing the light, she didn’t leave but continued sitting there, gently extracting a pouch from the desk’s crevice.

Inside the pouch were two items. One was the secret decree stolen from the Luo County traveling palace’s secret hall. One was the posthumous letter Mother had left in the small courtyard. That year at Ning’an Palace, the dying words Mother had hidden in her waist sash had directed her to find this.

Mother’s posthumous letter didn’t say much, only instructing that if she had the opportunity in the future to return to the Long North deep mountains where she’d lived as a child, not to forget to go to the original courtyard and pay respects to that brother of hers.

That biological child Madam Feng had given birth to who died, on the day of delivery, had been personally delivered by Gu Heng. The child’s body was buried under the peach tree in the back courtyard. Later when Madam Feng brought Feng Zhiwei and her siblings to the Imperial Capital, naturally she couldn’t carry her biological son’s bones. She missed this child’s lonely suffering, hoping Feng Zhiwei would have the chance to visit him.

Recently, when Feng Zhiwei inspected Long North, accompanied by Gu Nanyi, she’d made a trip there. The courtyard had long been burned down, but the peach tree stump remained. She dug three feet under the tree and unearthed a bundle.

A small bundle, stained with blood and mud—the small garment Madam Feng had personally sewn back then.

Feng Zhiwei picked up the bundle, unable to hide her bitterness, intending to take this ill-fated child’s bones and later move them for burial beside Madam Feng. Unexpectedly, when the bundle entered her hand, its weight startled her.

A newborn infant’s bones—how could they be this heavy? Heavy as stone!

She unwrapped the bundle and gasped.

What the infant’s clothes wrapped was truly a stone!

Feng Zhiwei’s hand softened. The stone dropped, nearly smashing her foot.

A stone… why would it be a stone?

On the night Mother gave birth to the child, what exactly happened?

Where was the body?

Feng Zhiwei sat dazed before that small pit, her mind instantly blank. After a long while, she jumped up frantically, digging up all the surrounding area within several zhang.

Could Mother have misremembered? Could it not have been buried under the peach tree?

Though she knew in her heart that since there was that small garment bundle, it was certain, at this moment her heart absolutely refused to face such a fact. If the infant hadn’t died that day, where should he be now?

Not understanding what had happened, Gu Nanyi silently accompanied her digging without a word, until they’d dug over that entire hillside with nothing found. Only then did Feng Zhiwei collapse in exhaustion, falling onto that expanse of messy earth.

She stared blankly at the sky, her eyes empty of everything.

No need to guess anymore—another case of switched infants.

The difference was, Consort Qing had switched someone else’s child for her own child, while Gu Heng had switched his own child, passing him off as an adopted son, raising him beside Madam Feng.

He probably feared that the child Madam Feng bore, if entrusted to others, would someday be traced and bring hidden danger to Feng Zhiwei. So he falsely claimed the child had died, carried him out for several days then brought him back. When brought back, the biological son became an adopted son.

He raised his biological son under Madam Feng’s side with the adopted son designation, never telling her the truth until death, all so that in the future, she could ruthlessly complete what needed doing.

So until death, Madam Feng never knew the child she’d waited sixteen years to watch him die was her biological son.

Generation after generation of Blood Floating Butcher leaders—was it because of this forbearing, ruthless determination and focused will, extreme focus bringing extreme heartlessness, that they could become the first person of the iron-blooded secret guards?

Feng Zhiwei sank in darkness, thinking of that stone wrapped in infant’s small clothes, thinking of Madam Feng and Feng Hao’s lonely graves a thousand li away, thinking how if Mother had known before death that the person she loved had deceived her, known that Hao’er was actually her biological son, would everything have happened at all?

Her ice-cold fingers caressed the letter’s cover. After a long while, tears fell.

In the darkness, a whisper thin as gossamer slowly drifted away.

“…What is this even…”

Three months later.

The war situation suddenly changed. The Hua Qiong Fire Phoenix Army that had gone to reinforce the Long North border, after Changning feigned defeat, was suddenly ambushed and besieged by court troops, trapped at Xiang Mountain on the Long North border.

At the same time, the South Sea General suddenly sent troops against Xi Liang. The new South Sea General Yao Yangyu in one battle pushed back Xi Liang’s border garrison troops dozens of li. Because of this, Feng Zhiwei urgently pressed Gu Nanyi to return to Xi Liang.

The Tiansheng grand army that had been contracting and yielding all along now seemed to finally be unable to restrain itself. Finally before the Great Cheng army, it displayed the bearing of the first great nation’s million-strong forces, frequently attacking, continuously assaulting and harassing Great Cheng’s various borders. Troops on all routes retreated in succession. Hang Ming was captured. Except for the Shunyi Iron Cavalry that came and went like the wind, the Great Cheng armies’ situation was critically urgent across the board.

The newly established Great Cheng regime looked about to sway in wind and rain. The Empress was quite anxious. For this she convened a court assembly, stating she would personally campaign to rescue Hang Ming and the trapped Hua Qiong. This idea was immediately opposed by all the generals, yet the Empress stubbornly insisted, stating that to capture the bandits one must capture the king—rather than fighting fires on all sides, better to strike straight at the heart. She immediately led one hundred thousand Shunyi Iron Cavalry, elite armored troops under heaven, crossing the Heng River to charge straight at the Imperial Capital.

The grand army marched day and night. At the necessary passage near Luo County, they encountered the Tiger Might Army. After probing contact with no clear victor, each side established camp, confronting each other across the Luo River.

This year’s winter was especially cold. December in Jianghuai was even more bone-chillingly damp and cold. Feng Zhiwei, wrapped in a great cloak, emerged from the tent, gazing across the misty, rainy Li Lake at the faintly visible Luo County traveling palace on the opposite shore.

“There should be an extremely high-ranking figure in the opposing camp,” Feng Zhiwei said to Wuha, the Shunyi Iron Cavalry leader who’d followed her out. “The battle formation is quite excellent.”

She pressed her lips together. One sentence remained unspoken—the formation wasn’t just excellent, its style was also somewhat familiar.

“What’s there to fear?” Wuha said nonchalantly in his unpracticed Chinese, “In future, soldiers block, earth floods!”

Feng Zhiwei smiled, not correcting his linguistic error, saying, ‘Wuha, remember one thing I say. Don’t show the bravery of a common man. Keep your soldiers’ lives in mind. If something happens to me, don’t stubbornly persist—withdraw.

“Why does Your Majesty say this?” Wuha asked stiffly. “Why speak such demoralizing words before even fighting?”

“The battlefield is merciless, changing in an instant. I’m just stating a possibility,” Feng Zhiwei said lightly. “But this is also an order. Wuha, remember what I just said.”

Wuha thought for a long time. After a while, he said, “Yes!”

Feng Zhiwei nodded with satisfaction. Her eyes suddenly focused—a black flash on the opposite shore. A signal arrow flew over, striking with a thud and embedding in the tent top.

Soldiers rushed to protect her, taking down that signal arrow. The arrow carried an attached letter. Feng Zhiwei took it down and read it, smiling, “A surrender demand.” After studying it for a while, she nodded, “Mm, the literary talent is good. ‘Falsely assuming a stolen and fraudulent state structure—can it withstand one blow from Heaven’s army?’ The tone is also quite large.”

“Let him fart like a dog!” Wuha jumped and cursed. “Beat him dead, you soft-legged lamb!”

Feng Zhiwei folded the letter, thought for a while, then waved her hand, “Reply.”

A scribe rushed over. Feng Zhiwei squinted her eyes looking at the opposite shore, slowly saying, “Falsely assuming a plundered great position—can it withstand one blow from Heaven’s mandate?”

The scribe held his brush waiting for a long time, but she said nothing more.

“…Your Majesty, just this one sentence?”

“Just this one sentence.”

“…”

The letter was attached to a signal arrow and shot over. Faintly visible through the mist, the opposite shore showed a commotion. After a while, another signal arrow shot back.

This time the letter seemed very long—at least Feng Zhiwei read it for a long while, then without calling for a scribe, personally picked up a brush to write a reply.

She wrote also very long and very seriously, a faint desolation and release between her brows, not like negotiating with the enemy commander via arrow before battle formations but rather like splashing ink before a screen, carefully writing life’s final testament.

After another while, a signal arrow shot over. This time the letter was extremely simple—only four characters, the handwriting obviously different from the previous two letters, bold and flowing with dripping ink.

“You come see me!”

Everyone glimpsed these characters and all showed angry expressions—what person dared summon and shout at Her Majesty like this!

The sharp-eyed scribe, however, discovered the Empress’s fingers holding the letter seemed to tremble slightly.

Unlike everyone’s angry clamor, the Empress had always been silent and calm. Her figure faintly visible in the winter mist made people feel lonely and solitary.

Then she smiled, saying, “Prepare a boat.”

“Your Majesty!”

I want to talk with the other side.” Feng Zhiwei smiled and looked back. “Wuha, don’t stop me. One cannot show common man bravery. Now with the current situation, rather than fighting recklessly, better to seek the best path of retreat for you all.

“Your Majesty—”

Wuha wasn’t Chinese, and his Chinese wasn’t fluent. Face red and neck thick, he couldn’t speak. Grassland men always most obeyed orders and didn’t understand change. With all the other great generals not present here, there was actually no one who could stop Feng Zhiwei. She handed a letter to Wuha and boarded the boat without looking back. At the boat’s prow, an oil lamp swayed leisurely. The pale yellow light smudged open a murky color in the mist. Under the lamplight, the woman’s long hair stirred slightly in the wind. Her white great cloak, like a wisp of drifting cloud, was painted onto the winter night’s bleak background.

Wuha watched that cloud-like retreating figure. A strange thought suddenly surged in his heart—as if with this going, their gentle yet noble Empress would never return.

That retreating figure gradually vanished in the mist. Wuha stood dazed and wiped his eyes, not knowing when his palm had become damp.

Feng Zhiwei disembarked. Soldiers had long been waiting on the shore. Seeing she’d really come in person with only a few guards, all showed astonished expressions, yet were well-trained and didn’t speak much, bowing respectfully with strict guarding and respectful attitudes.

A rider galloped over. The person who came to meet her on horseback was Chunyu Meng.

Old friends meeting, yet at this time, place, and circumstance—both felt myriad emotions. Chunyu Meng stared blankly at Feng Zhiwei. As a close confidant of Ning Yi, after Nanhai he’d clearly known Feng Zhiwei’s identity. Now thinking of past events at Qingming—drinking together under trees, sharing hardship at Long South—going round and round, today former friends had become enemy nation rulers. This matter of life—truly where to even begin?

Feng Zhiwei raised her collar. Her snow-white great cloak covered her palm-sized snow-white face, setting off a pair of eyes deep and bottomless as this winter day’s dense fog. She smiled at Chunyu Meng’s seemingly strange, seemingly questioning gaze. Chunyu Meng’s eyes suddenly moistened—that smile, in a flash, was precisely the Wei Zhi who’d first entered Qingming those years, composed, gentle, carrying a cool yet vast understanding of this dusty world.

“Your Majesty…” He somewhat unnaturally uttered this form of address. “Please follow me.”

“Call me Zhiwei.” Feng Zhiwei smiled slightly, feeling that seeing old friends at this moment was truly a comforting thing.

Abandoning the boat for shore, proceeding all along the way, the palace ahead gradually revealed its outline. Feng Zhiwei squinted at that majestic, exquisite palace still standing, smiling faintly.

As expected, here.

In the front hall, under her own guards’ furious gazes, Feng Zhiwei calmly accepted thorough searching, then followed Chunyu Meng walking back. Before that double-level secret hall, Chunyu Meng stopped, “I can only go this far.”

Feng Zhiwei nodded, about to walk. Chunyu Meng suddenly called out to her.

Feng Zhiwei turned back. Chunyu Meng looked into her eyes, his gaze clear and sincere. “…Talk well. Don’t act on impulse… Please… cherish each other.”

Feng Zhiwei looked into his eyes, only feeling her nose slightly sting. She pressed her lips together and nodded carefully and solemnly.

She lightly stepped up the stairs.

Since last stepping on these stairs, four years had passed.

She remembered those days that seemed calm yet were actually filled with startling winds and secret rains. The day the old emperor passed, she’d stolen two most important items and flown far away. From then on, the nation split, separated by the ends of the earth. Looking back—four years.

Since first stepping on these stairs, eight years had passed.

That day, fallen flowers before the hall like frost, she’d walked around before the stairs. Light laughter seemed to still echo faintly at her ear, as if the moment before she’d still lain beneath the secret hall with him observing stars, moon, and myths together. Looking back—eight years.

She’d thought she would never again step on this land in her lifetime. Yet when that day finally came and she returned, she had no regrets.

Her skirt hem gently brushed past corridor pillars. Eighteen corridor pillars, eighteen encounters. The last one carved with missing each other—at the time it was just commemoration, but now she knew it was fate’s prophecy.

The hall doors slowly opened.

The magnificent hall several dozen zhang long and wide had no brilliant lamplight. Only at the end of the long carpet, a single dim yellow candle burned.

Under the candlelight, he wore light robes and thin furs, leaning obliquely against a massive nine-dragons-competing-for-pearl screen, hand holding a wine pot, slowly pouring wine.

The candlelight slanted across his face. Under long brows his eyes were extremely black while his complexion was extremely white—vivid and brilliant, features like a painting.

Time aged the human heart, not the countenance.

Hearing the door opening sound, he didn’t raise his head. His fingers steadily filled the wine. He only said faintly, “You’ve come?”

She made an “mm” sound, her nasal tone a bit heavy. His fingers suddenly trembled slightly. A drop of wine liquid fell on his fingertip.

The wine liquid was ice-cold—this was wine that hadn’t been warmed. He’d waited for her until his mind grew agitated, rising to fetch wine from beneath the secret hall. That wine had been placed there before the secret hall was built, finally remembered for tasting today.

She lightly stepped forward. The candlelight dimmed. He raised his head to look at her. His gaze very still, very forceful, as if carrying a knife, one look carving down a contour that could never be changed.

“You went truly far,” he said low. “I thought you would never return.”

“Originally it was like that,” she smiled. “However…”

She didn’t continue. Ning Yi also seemed not to listen seriously. He stared absently at the lamplight. From the moment she entered the hall and he’d looked once, he hadn’t looked again, as if fearing that looking more would also diminish fortune, as if afterward he’d never be able to see her again.

He asked somewhat carelessly, “That line you said, ‘Falsely assuming a plundered great position—can it withstand one blow from Heaven’s mandate’—what does it mean?”

“That year in this secret hall, I took out two items,” Feng Zhiwei said lightly. “One was the command arrow—I returned it to you. One was the secret decree your father emperor left.”

“Oh?”

A mocking smile curved Feng Zhiwei’s lips. “You should be able to guess. His secret decree was left for the three old ministers. If the new emperor commits any acts against Heaven’s mandate or perverse conduct, he can be deposed and killed, with another imperial clan member installed as emperor.”

Ning Yi smiled as expected, “Even in death he didn’t trust me.” After a long silence, he said, “If so, I should thank you for not casually producing this secret decree.”

“No need,” Feng Zhiwei smiled faintly. “If we’re really thanking, shouldn’t I also thank you for much?”

Ning Yi remained silent. The two looked at each other once, then turned away.

“Since you’ve come and raised this secret decree, you must already have calculations in mind…” After a while, Ning Yi asked softly, “What do you want?”

“Those people who followed me,” Feng Zhiwei said. “All along there’s been no great slaughter, nor any disturbance of the people. Don’t make things difficult for them.”

“All are fine generals,” Ning Yi said. “I’ve long wanted to accept them. Naturally I won’t make things difficult.” He raised his eyes, joy of dust settling in his gaze, gentle yet fervent.

“Zhiwei, your oath is complete, your heart’s wish fulfilled. What about yourself?”

Feng Zhiwei remained silent. Ning Yi smiled, his expression relaxed.

“Zhiwei… I’m so glad you’ve finally returned… Remember that year listening to night rain at the ancient temple, in the dim lamplight and faint mist someone played a flute melody ‘Empire Dream.’ These years I often dream of this melody. In dreams, empire like a dream… This round of chaotic fighting and killing—what was exchanged in the end? Nothing but half a cup of thin wine, full temples of wind and frost. Now your oath is complete. Perfect time to stop here. My throne exchanged for your nation. Let others worry about this Phoenix Diagram hegemony, these two clans’ enmity.”

Full of hope, he extended his hand toward her.

“Zhiwei.”

“My remaining life, I only want to worry about you…”

Feng Zhiwei suddenly interrupted his words.

“Your Majesty’s words are truly too one-sided and wishful,” she said indifferently. “You and I are enemies, always have been. Even a three-year-old child knows I, Feng Zhiwei, great rebel leader, am irreconcilably opposed to you. Your Ning clan seized my Great Cheng’s territory, killed my father emperor and mother consort, exterminated my Blood Floating Butcher righteous warriors. You, Ning Yi, even personally struck at me. If not for my great fortune, I’d have long perished at your hands. That I seize your nation, plunder your land—it’s just tit for tat between you and me. Victors become kings, losers become bandits—no resentment either way. Now the situation is unfavorable. I seek a way forward for my subordinates, but I didn’t say I’d willingly let go, much less that I want to beg for my life under your hand.”

Ning Yi’s hand paused. He raised his head to look at her. In one instant, his eyes darkened.

“Zhiwei, you were clearly only for that restoration oath…”

“That’s what you thought,” Feng Zhiwei interrupted him, her smile mocking. “If I didn’t make you think so, how would you be willing to yield step by step, conceding territory, enabling me without too much effort to establish Great Cheng?”

She lightly spread her hands, smiling broadly, “Your Majesty, truthfully speaking, from the very beginning you knew me too thoroughly. Under your very eyes, wanting to accumulate power to restore Great Cheng was fundamentally impossible. Fortunately I’m a woman. A woman’s greatest advantage is being able to move men’s hearts. Men who’ve been moved always soften a bit—for instance, shielding and yielding, for instance, preserving my life, even… conceding territory.”

She smiled softly, staring unblinkingly at Ning Yi whose expression slowly changed, saying with satisfaction and relief, “So just now I said, thank you. But Your Majesty, if you think that having completed my oath to Mother I’d voluntarily return the territory you conceded; if you think that as long as Great Cheng was restored I’d consider the oath complete and wouldn’t mind Great Cheng vanishing again; if you think that because you fulfilled me I would fulfill you—then you’re wrong. What I’ve swallowed, I absolutely won’t willingly spit back out. If not that you hide your strength too deeply and I’m truly no match, with no choice but to plan for my subordinates’ future, today I still wouldn’t stand here. I’d only be on the opposite shore…” She smiled, composed and graceful, saying word by word, “Raising my blade toward you.”

Ning Yi stared at her, his complexion gradually paling slightly.

These years of empire contests, not hesitating to split the nation in two—it had never been anything but his fulfilling her oath.

He’d used all his strength to seize this throne, but only to possess absolute power so she could freely escape from her oath. If another brother had taken this throne, with her great rebellious acts, who could let her live?

When she was trapped in her oath and had to continue, he accompanied her. He didn’t hesitate to offer up this realm to complete her oath. He used every means to make himself her backup path. He did all this for himself, but even more to give her peace of mind.

Yet walking to the end, was it truly the case that all past affections were merely an emotional trap she had set for her own nation’s restoration?

“No.” After a long while he suddenly withdrew his gaze, somewhat dazed as he drained the cup of wine he had never drunk, “Zhiwei, you’re lying.”

He repeated in a low but forceful voice, “You’re lying. If you truly intended to deceive me, you wouldn’t have said it out loud.”

Feng Zhiwei watched him drain the wine, a flash of amusement crossing her face as she said, “Your Majesty seems to think he understands me very well? However…” she drawled leisurely, “Your Majesty will soon know whether I’ve lied or not.”

Ning Yi gave a cold laugh and fell silent.

“Even if we pardon those who followed the rebellion, the principal culprit and chief villain can never be forgiven. May I ask what kind of death Your Majesty plans to give me?” Feng Zhiwei smiled and stepped forward, placing both hands on the table, bringing her face—smiling brilliantly as a rose swaying in the wind—directly before him.

“Poisoned wine? White silk? Sack of earth? Bestowed blade?”

Her faint fragrance drifted over. He suddenly felt somewhat distracted. In his memory, her scent was elegant and noble, fragrant as orchids, but today’s fragrance was somehow different—present yet absent, strong then faint, with a bewitching quality that reminded one of a ghost gliding through the night mist with graceful steps.

“What kind of death do you want?” Ning Yi poured himself another cup, his movements steady. The clear wine tilted slightly, reflecting the woman’s hazy eyes… For so many years she had lived shrouded in clouds and mist, refusing to let him see her clearly even unto death.

“Whatever’s quickest for you.” She smiled, gently rolling up her sleeves and opening her palms toward him, “Let this lowly concubine serve you one last time.”

He smiled slightly, his thin lips curving in a mocking arc as he casually handed her the wine pot and cup.

The wine was green as jade, her pale wrists like congealed frost and snow. A line of deep emerald flowed from her slender fingers, falling into the white jade glass cup with a tinkling sound. The surroundings were very quiet, the brocade curtains and embroidered drapes hanging heavily, isolating them from all the world’s clamor.

Including the rebels’ howls and slaughter coming from across the river beyond the palace halls and jade steps.

Her rebels—the Shunyi iron cavalry and Fire Phoenix infantry—had launched another attack on the Tiansheng army tonight after she entered the camp, following her orders.

That smoke and bloody air seemed blocked in some distant place, not entering the ears of these two people. In the silence they carefully sought out and listened to each other’s breathing… calm, peaceful, almost identical in rhythm, in the curling light smoke from the golden incense burner, distinctly clear yet entangled unto death.

Gently turning the wine cup in her hand, she asked softly, “Aren’t you afraid I’ve poisoned it?”

“This hidden palace has had no one enter it for years,” he answered indifferently. “And this pot of wine, stored in a secret compartment, has never been touched by anyone.”

“As for you…” He calmly took a sip of wine without continuing. His clear, sharp gaze swept across like an ice blade, the smile a cold glint on the blade’s edge, revealing nothing.

She smiled silently, staring absently at her own fingers. Since entering this secret palace, she had already undergone thorough searches by the world’s most knowledgeable poison expert, the most skilled craftsman of hidden weapons, and the most expert assassin. Never mind a poisonous pill—even a single hair that didn’t belong to her would have been picked out long ago.

Indeed, at this moment, no one could poison him to reverse this situation unfavorable to her.

However…

She smiled faintly, her eyebrows and eyes curving upward with an unexpectedly playful and lovely arc.

“Do you feel tightness in your chest?” Her naturally misty eyes fixed on him, their fog concealing the true emotion in their depths. “Do you feel a stabbing pain in your dantian? Do you feel rebellious blood surging upward, rushing against your vital energy center?”

He also fixed his gaze on her, his complexion gradually taking on a slight pallor.

“This secret palace, after its completion, was indeed heavily guarded and no one has entered.” She turned and paced away a few steps, glancing back at him with a smile. “But what about before its completion?”

He trembled slightly.

That year when the secret palace was first built, from the blueprint design to the palace’s completion, he had never let her interfere. Only after completion had he brought her in to look once.

He still remembered—at that time, pear blossoms fell like light frost before the palace. Her silver skirt swept lightly and gracefully across the ground bathed in bright moonlight, spinning a brilliant, dazzling flower. In the moonlight and flower shadows, she smiled and looked back while supporting herself against a corridor pillar. He was instantly struck by that serene smile.

At that time their feelings were deep.

Was it on such an evening scattered with the clear fragrance of pear blossoms, was it in such a smiling gaze as their eyes met, that her slender ten fingers brushed across the secret compartment beneath the wine pot, laying down the assassination poison for years later?

That smile was gentle, those eyes charming. The warmth of walking hand in hand amid falling pear blossoms—was it all just empty flowers in an illusory dream?

He had brought out his precious heartfelt intentions, wanting to share with her the joy of secrets, but she had already calmly left behind the groundwork for their future life-and-death opposition.

Again that phrase—she had always been his enemy.

Across from him, Feng Zhiwei watched him with a smiling expression. “Your Majesty, do you still think I was lying just now?”

Ning Yi stared at her fixedly, as if trying to find something illusory and soft in her misty autumn-water eyes, but Feng Zhiwei’s gaze remained constant and unchanging.

“Who says victory and defeat are decided? Who says I’m willing to surrender these rivers and mountains with both hands?” She pointed toward outside the palace, smiling, “If I hadn’t come in person, how could I have made your heart chaotic enough to drink wine? Once you die, the Tiansheng army will surely fall into chaos. Whether these beautiful rivers and mountains ultimately belong to Tiansheng or to my Great Cheng—I’d say that’s hard to predict.” She laughed heartily, sweeping her sleeve. “Even if I die here, having Your Majesty of the Ning clan as a burial companion is already enough!”

Ning Yi gazed at her delicate yet indifferent silhouette in the lamplight. His elbow pressed lightly against his chest—he didn’t know what hurt, or perhaps nothing hurt at all. There was just something that cracked as brittlely as glass, the sound of “crack” seemingly so clear he could hear it.

In a trance, it was like that year at the Nanhai dock. She entered lifting the curtain while holding an infant, her expression soft and warm, leading him to imagine ten years later. She had answered: “Ten years from now, who knows what will happen? Perhaps we’ll be strangers passing by, perhaps nodding acquaintances, perhaps still the same as now—me bowing to you from below while you remain far above, or perhaps… perhaps meeting as enemies.”

Ten years later, the prophecy had come true.

Slowly lifting his sleeve to cover his lips, a spot of bright red stained the fabric. He silently wiped it away with a cold gaze, while she had somehow turned her back, her back straight and slender. He gazed at that back and suddenly felt that if he didn’t ask one question now, perhaps he would never have another chance.

“General… did you ever love me?” The few short words were asked with difficulty.

She paused. After a long while she turned her head, smiling charmingly, enunciating clearly.

“No.”

A suffocating silence filled the deep palace. Outside the long window, an autumn begonia blooming in full splendor suddenly wilted silently.

“Good.”

After a long time, he finally smiled as well. The legendary peerless countenance, smiling now, actually looked not much better than that wilted flower.

He no longer looked at her, but his eyes had gradually become somber. Suddenly he clapped his hands lightly.

Just that crisp and calm sound, its echo still lingering in the great hall.

In the distance, a response suddenly rose like an overwhelming roar—like ocean waves suddenly rearing up into thick walls under a hurricane’s sweep, standing across from the golden palace, instantly suppressing the approaching sounds of slaughter.

He smiled slightly. Without looking, he knew that those crisscrossing roads, those palace corners, would all surge with countless black currents after that clap fell—his secretly deployed elite troops who would use gleaming hundred-forged weapons to meet those rebel soldiers who dared trample imperial authority and stain the jade steps with their bloodied boots.

At this point, deep affection and sweet intimacy could not withstand mortal struggle, and his twelve years of precious heartfelt devotion could no longer be used to nurture this poisonous poppy.

Allowing her to scheme until today was already enough.

“Ah, I’ve still lost.” She leaned out to look toward the palace exterior, her tone relaxed. “What a pity.”

“Yes, a pity.” He coughed softly, coughing up traces of blood. “You see, even though you left this killing move years ago, even though you want my life, your Great Cheng empire is still destined to collapse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she smiled. “Being able to die together with you is already my honor.”

He stared at her fixedly. Her smile was graceful, just like their first meeting.

Always thinking that this half-life of arduous management was for the rainbow after future storms—thus it sustained his patience to wait through those years. Yet it turned out his assumptions were merely assumptions.

He slowly turned his eyes away, his five fingers tightening until the jade cup in his palm shattered with a bang.

Amid dripping blood, he coldly ordered the air, “Someone come.”

From the four corners of the great hall, several figures immediately appeared like ghosts.

She glanced up, then calmly turned around, her long dense lashes dropping down to cover her darkly changing eyes.

Those thoughts too difficult to speak—let them be buried forever with this body…

She heard from behind, his voice cool, each word cutting through metal and jade.

“Take her down, imprison her in the secret dungeon. Three days from now…”

He closed his eyes.

“Death by a thousand cuts.”

In the fourth year of Fengxiang’s winter reign, the Great Cheng iron cavalry encountered Tiansheng troops in Luo County. In battle, the personally campaigning Empress was captured, and the Cheng army was driven back. Subsequently, all Great Cheng’s major generals received handwritten letters from the Empress. No one knew what the letters said, only that every military tent kept its lights burning that night, and faint sounds of sighing could be heard. Afterward, Cheng armies everywhere contracted their lines. Rumors circulated vaguely in the Great Cheng nation that the Empress had already submitted to the Tiansheng Emperor, but no one was clear about the actual facts. There were only vague rumors that after receiving the Empress’s letter, Fire Phoenix Commander Hua Qiong first sighed deeply and said, “It’s all fate…” then added, “It’s good you can accept it…” though no one knew whom she was addressing.

Subsequently, this female commander did something that shocked the world—she led her army in surrendering to the Tiansheng court. The realm erupted in discussion and the common people were astonished. Countless pedantic Confucian scholars wrote poems and essays to mock her, transforming years of praise for the foremost female general into present verbal attacks. However, this commander who had always acted freely merely laughed and scoffed, saying, “If she wants to fight, I fight. If she wants to surrender, I surrender. Why care about so much?”

While the female commander’s changing situation moved hearts throughout the realm, the Imperial Capital fell into a small turmoil. A most secret piece of news circulated among high court officials, carrying incomprehensible trepidation and unease.

“…I hear His Majesty’s sacred body is unwell…”

“They say he was poisoned the night he captured the Great Cheng Empress…”

“Isn’t the Empress to be executed by a thousand cuts tomorrow? Such great treachery deserves the extermination of nine generations of relatives, though her nine generations are indeed gone… already killed off by the Ning clan…”

“Never mind about the Great Cheng Empress—His Majesty hasn’t held court for several days. If that news is true…”

“Aiya…”

The officials’ alarmed gazes passed over the high walls. According to legend, the Empress was imprisoned in the palace’s secret dungeon—the same place that had once held the Feng clan mother and son.

Very few people noticed that in the shadows formed by the angle between two buildings behind those high walls, there was a figure pressed tightly against the wall, unmoving.

He pressed extremely tight, as if originally grown from the wall itself. The winter wind was bitterly cold, the walls icy, and this was a drafty passage—bone-chillingly cold. The man’s fingers exposed outside his close-fitting clothing had joints turned blue-green, actually developing a thin layer of frost flowers. No one knew how long he had been pressed there.

A team of guards passed through the narrow alley beneath him, completely unaware.

This was the alley at the secret dungeon’s entrance—very narrow, with guards constantly passing in opposite directions, almost without gaps. Only during shift changes every six hours would there be a brief opening when someone with extremely high martial skills could slip in, but the time was extremely short, enough only for one action. This person had clearly taken advantage of the shift change six hours earlier to leap onto the wall and press himself there, waiting for the next shift change six hours later to infiltrate.

In such weather, six hours, wearing only thin close-fitting clothes to avoid notice—an ordinary person would have frozen to death long ago. Yet this man remained silent, even controlling his breath to produce only faint white vapor.

A commotion below—the time had come. Taking advantage of that instant of shift change, the man dropped from the high wall, slipping like light smoke through the barred gate into the angled alley.

A team of guards walked over, the leader carrying a food box—apparently coming to deliver a meal. That person hid in the shadows behind the iron-barred gate, waiting until the last person walked past before silently attaching himself to his back.

The last person was completely unaware. After walking for a while, something felt wrong. He turned around abruptly, seeing only the empty path behind him.

“Xiao Zhang, what’s wrong?” The lead guard turned back with a puzzled question.

“Nothing.” That possessed Xiao Zhang shrank his neck and laughed, “This drafty wind blowing makes one’s teeth chatter.”

“Why so jumpy?” The person ahead laughed, saying, “I think you’ve been scared by the person inside.”

“That’s true.” That Xiao Zhang scratched his head, laughing awkwardly, “That woman is in terrible condition, frightening to see… His Majesty too—such great hatred, just kill her with one stroke, why torture her like this…”

“Shut up! Is this something you should say?” The lead guard shouted sternly, and that Xiao Zhang quickly fell silent.

The man attached to his back wore a rigid wooden mask on his face, always clinging to Xiao Zhang’s back like light smoke. From a slanted angle, Xiao Zhang’s shadow appeared somewhat thicker, as if with two pairs of hands and feet—looking truly eerie.

Hearing this exchange, the man’s weightless body suddenly paused. In that pause, Xiao Zhang sensed something again. Turning back once more to see the empty path behind him, he shuddered and urged those ahead to quicken their pace. The lead man continued downward, displaying his waist token to the guards inside. The door opened with a creak.

At the instant the door opened, a fierce wind suddenly swept through, stirring up sand and stones from the ground and flinging them into people’s eyes. Everyone cried out, those rubbing their eyes rubbing, those shielding from wind shielding, completely failing to notice that in that wind, an even lighter wind passed through.

The secret dungeon had iron walls, dark and gloomy, with no skylights. The exit was that single one. Inside there were no guards stationed. According to legend, years ago a master had been imprisoned here who had overpowered the jailer, taken the keys and escaped. After that, the imperial secret dungeon no longer stationed any guards inside, replacing them with endless mechanisms.

The designer of this secret dungeon had once boasted that to reach the destination inside this dungeon without alerting anything—unless one had no legs. So even meal delivery involved opening the door, placing the food box in a depression in the floor, the weight triggering mechanisms that would convey the food box to the cell door for the prisoner to retrieve themselves.

At this moment, this man drifted inside.

Like a shadow without legs in the darkness.

He appeared to walk on the steps, but his feet actually left a finger’s width of space above the ground.

For ordinary masters to pass without touching ground was possible, but with limited distance and unable to move slowly. To walk leisurely while suspended in air was already beyond the realm of lightness skills, requiring powerful internal force for support.

That man walked seemingly very easily, but careful observation revealed something strange—his limbs seemed somewhat stiff, his fingers exposed outside his sleeves blue-green at the joints, his body constantly trembling slightly.

He slowly made his way forward, not stirring a speck of dust. Turning a corner, he saw iron bars standing before him.

Inside the bars, on broken straw, lay a woman nearly at death’s door. Even in the murky darkness one could sense that frail posture—her raised shoulders thin and sharp as steel blades, cutting painfully into one’s eyes. Throughout the cell were rotten cotton wadding and dirty straw, stained with already blackened bits of flesh and bloodstains—shocking to behold.

That man’s whole body trembled, nearly falling. Throughout his life he remained calm and steady—only this woman could move his heart. In his panic he quickly collected himself and drifted over. Lifting his finger, a diamond-thin slice held between his fingers had already cut through the secret lock on the door, and he drifted inside.

He entered the cell, and that woman still didn’t move. The man frantically swept over, reaching out to help her up. His hand had just touched her body when he felt something slippery—raising his fingers to look, they were bloody and covered with bits of flesh. Her entire body’s skin had already shattered completely—she couldn’t be touched at all.

That man knelt before her, holding up both hands, in that instant frozen as if the heavens and earth had collapsed.

His blood-stained fingers froze rigidly toward the sky, the posture like fossilized stone seemingly eternally unable to find release. A line of light from a crack in the iron walls shone on his masked face. At the eye position of the mask was a layer of specially made membrane. Within the membrane, his eternally calm gaze surged with waves for the first time in his life, rolling out infinite horror and despair. At the bottom of his eyes, strange faint misty vapor slowly gathered.

This life of experiencing storms without wavering, this life with a closed-off world unknowing of joy, anger, sorrow or happiness, this life where she had opened his primordial chaos—he had thought from then on he could see the brilliant five-colored new universe, yet from then on he encountered infinite longing, pain and… today’s sorrow.

Something very wet, very hot, very swollen pressed at the bottom of his eyes, filling them to bursting, wanting to roll from his eye sockets. Throughout this life he thought he would never experience this moment, yet fate refused to spare him from tasting all of life’s bitterness—to the end.

So this was called tears.

So this was called despair.

His fingers trembling, he slowly reached toward his own eyes, as if wanting to touch those tears about to flow, or as if wanting to just cover his eyes like that, to not face this heart-rending scene.

Yet suddenly he heard a quiet sigh.

This voice was too familiar—familiar enough to meet often in dreams, as if at his ear even across the ends of the earth. He was struck as if by thunderbolt, turning his head sharply.

The cell was designed with turns. On the side of this cell, a person’s slender shadow was faintly visible.

That shadow was also too familiar—familiar enough that his whole body trembled, his heart cavity jumping with sudden pain, as if having just cracked open, then being forcefully sealed together by a branding iron with a sizzling sound as hot air scattered.

His first instinct was to stand, but his body swayed and his vision darkened—he nearly fainted. For someone sealed in iron and stone, this kind of too-rare violent emotional impact of great sorrow followed by great joy was momentarily unbearable.

That person sighed again, the sigh filled with tender compassion.

He raised his head, infinite joy bursting from his eyes, instantly evaporating the tears that hadn’t yet flowed. He had already heard from that sigh that she was safe and sound.

He immediately released the woman in his hands, sweeping toward that cell and opening the door in the same manner.

In the darkness, Feng Zhiwei sat in plain clothes on the ground, quietly watching him.

He stood at the cell entrance, also carefully and thoroughly watching her, then released a sound of infinite satisfaction, striding forward and suddenly opening both arms to embrace her.

“Wei… Wei…” He called her name over and over in a low voice, filled with immense joy at recovering what was lost.

Feng Zhiwei listened to his excited, joyful tone, remembering their first meeting—the jade-carved young man who stood three feet away, his gaze only at the one foot three inches below his feet.

Her jade-carved young master had become human because of her. Yet she had led him out of that sealed world but never been able to give him true life’s joys.

If she had left him always in that original place, perhaps he could have lived this life in muddled happiness.

Right? Wrong? At this moment words choked in her throat.

Gu Nanyi held her tightly, gently nuzzling his face against the side of her neck, murmuring low, “I’m so happy… I’m so happy…”

Feng Zhiwei’s eyes slightly moistened. She softly hummed “Mm,” and wrapped her arms around him in return, feeling his body was too cold, wanting to give him some warmth.

She murmured low in his ear, “I’m sorry.”

A moment of silence.

Then he turned his head, also murmuring in her ear, “No, I like all of this.”

Without experiencing that hell-like pain and despair, how could there be this moment’s immense joy of desperate survival?

Everything she gave him, he liked.

Feng Zhiwei fell silent. Gu Nanyi had already released her, grasping her sleeve, saying, “Let’s go.”

Feng Zhiwei didn’t move. Gu Nanyi looked back at her in surprise.

“This cell is the one where my mother and my brother stayed.” Feng Zhiwei’s lips curved in a desolate smile as she gently stroked the iron wall. “I even found old bloodstains in the corner of the wall here—I don’t know if they were left when my brother was held down and force-fed poisoned wine.”

Gu Nanyi reached out wanting to take her hand, but halfway remembered something and only grasped her sleeve instead. Feng Zhiwei didn’t notice, only saying leisurely, “Nanyi, I’m sorry I didn’t speak just now, because just now, I didn’t want to leave with you.”

Gu Nanyi stared at her with wide eyes.

“Since the thirteenth year of Changxi, all my strength has been saved for Mother’s dying wish.” She slowly sat down, gazing blankly into empty space. “Mother understood me very well. She brought me back to the Qiu Mansion, letting that terrible environment force out the anger and unwillingness in my heart. She used a near-tragic and decisive death, used my brother’s life that had waited sixteen years to be a substitute death, forcing me who was already angry and unwilling into a dead end. At the end, she forced me to make that vow, which from then on bound me forever.”

She extended her palm, gazing blankly at her own jade-white fingers. “Restore the nation, take revenge—two missions. I lived my whole life only for these. I also once thought that to repay Mother and my brother, to let their souls rest in peace, I had to do this, not sparing this body or even the common people for it.”

“However,” she smiled bleakly, “Heaven played such a huge joke. Those days I kept thinking—if Mother had known Feng Hao was her biological son, would she still have chosen that path of death? I thought for a long time. She wouldn’t have.”

“My mother was such a woman of clear love and hate, fierce as fire. She dared to do all that based on her love for your uncle. Once she knew your uncle had been deceiving her all along, she would only have hatred left. How could she still sacrifice herself for his dying wish?”

“She couldn’t even let go of her biological child’s remains, earnestly instructing me not to forget to make offerings. If her biological child had lived beside her, how could she have been willing to let him die as a substitute?”

“Therefore.” Feng Zhiwei looked up at Gu Nanyi, smiling bitterly. “Actually none of it should exist. Mother’s dying wish doesn’t exist, Great Cheng’s restoration doesn’t exist, the so-called revenge doesn’t exist.”

Gu Nanyi stared at her blankly. He didn’t quite understand Feng Zhiwei’s meaning, only vaguely felt that since digging up that stone wrapped in blood-stained clothes in the mountains, all the faith supporting Feng Zhiwei had simultaneously been smashed by that stone.

Along with her painstaking schemes, forbearance and sacrifices all along, along with this struggle for empire dividing the realm in two—all lost every reason to exist, shattered to powder, falling into her eye sockets, transforming into this moment’s bitter tears.

“You see.” Feng Zhiwei murmured low, “You, Ning Yi, Helian Zheng, Zhixiao, Zong Chen, Xue Futu, Hua Qiong… you were all using your own methods, doing everything you could do to fulfill this vow of mine, making the impossible possible… even minimizing sacrifice and harm. But no matter how it’s avoided and fulfilled, war always kills people. Those fine young men, those robust youths also born of fathers and raised by mothers, those vivid lives… because of your uncle’s selfish design, because of Mother’s deceived sacrifice, because of the vow I was forced to make, they perished on the battlefield, their souls falling in foreign lands. And Helian, Helian, he…” She choked up unable to continue, slowly turning her face away.

Gu Nanyi half-knelt before her. Even across the distance, he could feel Feng Zhiwei’s despair and desolation at this moment. He lightly pressed his hand virtually on her shoulder, saying, “No, it’s not your fault.”

Feng Zhiwei stared blankly at the shadowy silhouette on the wall, softly saying, “Yes, perhaps it’s not my fault, but I feel I no longer deserve happiness. How can someone like me, stained with countless innocent blood, still live on calmly? How would I face those souls crying day and night?”

Gu Nanyi looked at her earnestly and seriously, sensing she wasn’t joking. Without thinking he said, “Then I’ll die with you.”

He spoke plainly and simply, without consideration, as if speaking not of a matter of life and death but of going on an outing together tomorrow.

Feng Zhiwei glanced at him without surprise, also smiling calmly. This was Gu Nanyi—he regarded everything with indifference, including life and death.

If it were Ning Yi, what would he say? He would say—You want to die? First ask if I agree.

Her lips curved upward, smiling with an almost playful expression.

Some things have never been up to people, Ning Yi—do you understand?

“Alright, let’s die together.” She grasped Gu Nanyi’s sleeve, her tone calm and resolute.

Gu Nanyi nodded, looking around in all directions, saying, “But I don’t want to die in the Tiansheng imperial palace.”

“Neither do I.” Feng Zhiwei said, “Then take me out. My internal force has been sealed.”

Gu Nanyi nodded, turning to carry her on his back. On his back, Feng Zhiwei said softly, “Nanyi, why are you so cold? Your cold syndrome has flared up, hasn’t it?”

Originally, Gu Nanyi had worn cold iron shackles for her, developing a cold syndrome that couldn’t endure cold and damp places for long, so later he remained in warm Xi Liang. Now with Feng Zhiwei pressed against his back, even through clothing it was bone-chillingly cold, and she knew the cold syndrome had struck.

“Planning to die anyway.” Gu Nanyi said dryly, “Doesn’t matter.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled, pressing her face against his back, saying, “I’ll warm you up too.”

Gu Nanyi hummed in acknowledgment. Though that bit of warmth from her face couldn’t resist the cold qi in his body, he still said with great satisfaction, “Warm.”

Feng Zhiwei pressed her face against his back, tears flowing silently, their reflection glimmering like a small stream.

Gu Nanyi carried her and was about to leave when Feng Zhiwei suddenly said, “Wait.”

Then she turned her head, extending her arm long, waving it randomly on the ground while pinching her voice into an eerie tone: “Consort Qing… Consort Qing… return my child… Consort Qing… Qing Hao… return my life…”

Gu Nanyi looked at her in astonishment, not knowing what madness had suddenly seized her.

Suddenly a sharp scream—in the cell diagonally opposite, that woman covered in wounds suddenly leaped up. Originally at death’s door but not knowing where the strength came from, she sprang into the corner of the cell, ignoring how the rough iron walls scraped her wounds all over her body, pressing herself tightly against the wall, staring fixedly at the ground while shrilly panting, calling out with infinite terror, “Don’t… don’t come find me… don’t come… don’t come…”

On the ground, in the light showing through the iron cracks, Feng Zhiwei’s moving arm cast a shadow that twisted and writhed spasmodically, seeming near then far before Consort Qing’s feet, as if about to crawl near at any moment. Consort Qing screamed almost madly, pressing herself into the wall regardless of pain. Her shattered back scraped against the iron walls, bits of flesh falling, smearing the entire wall with bright red. Only then did Gu Nanyi discover that wall’s color differed from the other walls—deep red-black, as if already accumulated with layer upon layer of fresh blood.

“You see, this is the consequence of doing too many guilty deeds.” Feng Zhiwei withdrew her arm, saying indifferently, “I didn’t expect Ning Yi to be even more ruthless than me—he actually didn’t kill her. I’ve been here these past few days, scaring her once every day. Haha.”

She laughed once, but the laughter held no joy. Then she turned her head away, not looking at Consort Qing who had collapsed softly on the ground, saying, “Let’s go.”

Gu Nanyi nodded, carrying her while still floating through the secret dungeon. His steps were much slower than before. Feng Zhiwei heard his slight panting. In her memory, Gu Nanyi seemed never to have panted with exertion before. She compassionately used her handkerchief to wipe his forehead, only realizing upon wiping that he wore a mask.

“I want to see your face.” Her chin resting on the back of his neck, she made this request.

Gu Nanyi thought for a moment, saying, “Zong Chen said not to let people see.”

“Why?”

Gu Nanyi shook his head. Feng Zhiwei smiled, “I should surely be an exception.”

She pressed her lips together, thinking she had actually already seen him. Zong Chen’s prohibition on showing his face was also to protect him.

“Mm.” Gu Nanyi had no objection to this, raising his hand to remove the mask, but his hand suddenly paused.

A strong light shone over. The two looked up, only then discovering that somehow the dungeon entrance was already packed with people.

Imperial Guards and Long Ying Guards in three layers within and without, densely arranged before the angled alley—so impenetrably that even a winged ant couldn’t fly through.

Seeing them emerge, everyone’s spear tips thrust forward with a resounding clang.

Amid that great sound, the lamps lit on both sides of the corridor came alight in succession, like a string of luminous pearls flying down from the ninth heaven, illuminating all around bright as day.

Under the lamplight, in the center of the crowd on a high platform, Ning Yi half-reclined on a sedan chair, his face pallid, coughing softly while gazing at them indifferently.

Gu Nanyi unhurriedly drew out his belt, binding Feng Zhiwei tightly on his back.

“I’ve been waiting for you both for a long time.” Ning Yi covered his lips with his sleeve, concealing a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. Feng Zhiwei’s poison was very formidable—he had exhausted all methods but couldn’t dispel it.

If it couldn’t be dispelled, then no need to dispel it. She wanted his life, she could take it, but the premise was that everyone died together.

“I told you in the thirteenth year of Changxi.” He gazed at Feng Zhiwei with near tenderness, smiling, “The realm’s territory, its wind, rain, water and earth, will all ultimately belong to me. Even if you become ash and dust, that will still be my ash, my dust—therefore, if you want to leave, fine. Become ash, become dust, and be buried with me in the imperial mausoleum.”

Feng Zhiwei turned her head to look at him, her gaze also very deep and forceful. Across such distant firelight, Ning Yi seemed to feel a flash of light in her eyes, refracting diamond-like brilliance, yet in an instant it vanished again. She still had that hazy, misty gaze, that unhurried tone, speaking the world’s most ruthless and bitter words: “Does Your Majesty persist in refusing to die just waiting for me to become ash and dust?”

She smiled. “Then I’ll comply.” Turning to Gu Nanyi she said, “Let’s go.”

Ning Yi closed his eyes. Some pains hurt to the extreme and are called numbness. The heart was still here, yet the heart could no longer be seen.

She racked her brains to see him die. Even at this moment she still smiled following another, waiting for his end. He and she, entangled for a lifetime, struggling half their lives, competing to stir up wind and rain—it turned out only to wait for this moment, to see who died first.

No death, no rest.

Then let it be so.

He smiled slightly, his pallid features tinged with faint death qi. Gazing at the calm-as-usual Feng Zhiwei, he suddenly wanted to ask one last question.

If this life couldn’t be completed, perhaps he could hope for the next life.

“Zhiwei, tell me—what would it take for us to be together?”

Feng Zhiwei raised her head as if wanting to see through the gray-blue sky to the end of destiny. After a long while she answered faintly, “Atone for all sins, transcend life and death.”

Transcend life and death.

Ning Yi silently chewed this over, raising his head and waving his hand silently.

Ten thousand blades and swords rose and fell like crystal walls, their light collisions converging into a thunderous roar.

Gu Nanyi flew up carrying Feng Zhiwei.

“Nanyi, we’ve already committed too much killing.” Feng Zhiwei said softly on his back. “If we can avoid killing, then don’t kill.”

“Alright.”

Both were very composed. Both were very calm. Both knew that human strength had limits. Facing these layers of palace gates, these vast myriad armies, no one could break through.

That didn’t matter either.

Going was necessary. Whether they kept their lives—unimportant.

Gu Nanyi’s figure flashed, charging straight toward the blade formation before the corridor. Looking at that forward momentum, it was as if he wanted to crash into it to commit suicide. The soldiers all froze. In an instant Gu Nanyi was upon them. Still three inches away, he suddenly lifted his foot and kicked, breaking the foremost long blade with one kick. The long blade whirled away, reflecting thousands of light rays in the moonlight and lamplight. The guards rushing forward all squinted from the glare. Then all felt their hands lighten—their own weapons had somehow already flown from their hands. Blade struck sword, sword bounced off spear, spear hit faces—amid stars bursting and cries of “aiya” and clanging sounds, a figure shuttled through like lightning splitting waves and cutting through steel gaps. Gu Nanyi had already crossed the corridor, standing outside the first encirclement.

His steps had just steadied when a somewhat round figure suddenly rushed out.

This person leaped down from the high platform. Though somewhat fat, his movements were faster than anyone else’s. As he charged he cried, as he cried he ran quite fast, running while flinging tears and mucus everywhere—yet no one dared dodge.

He just flung mucus and charged over, the last glob of mucus wanting very much to land on Gu Nanyi, but Gu Nanyi dodged it with disgust, rarely opening his golden mouth to speak one word to him: “Scram.”

Gu Nanyi telling someone to scram was well-intentioned, but this person didn’t plan to accept his good intentions. His round body blocked his path, his neck stiffening stubbornly as he glared, “If anyone’s scramming, you scram! Leave her and then scram!”

Feng Zhiwei laughed softly on Gu Nanyi’s back.

“Ning Cheng.” She said gently, “Long time no see.”

“Ptui.” Ning Cheng spat at her viciously, “Don’t greet me—I get angry just seeing you!”

Feng Zhiwei smiled and closed her eyes, saying lazily, “Ning Cheng, move aside. We don’t want to kill you.”

“I want to kill you.” Ning Cheng glared, “You’ve harmed His Majesty to death. I don’t want to live anyway. Let’s all die in a heap together—perfect.”

“That’s fine too, but I’m suddenly a bit curious.” Feng Zhiwei opened her eyes to look at him. “I’ve always wondered how you got to his side? Why is he so tolerant of you? Since we’re all dying anyway, answer and it doesn’t matter, right?”

“What can’t be answered?” Ning Cheng said huffily, “I met His Majesty when I was eight. At that time I was studying martial arts in the mountains. His Majesty was only seven then, severely wounded, nearly dead. His subordinates found some quack to treat him badly—not like treating illness but like trying to kill him. I couldn’t stand it so I personally gave guidance. No one believed me, saying my method would really kill him. His Majesty suddenly woke up then and without a word believed me—we’re life-and-death friends, understand?”

“Oh, I understand.” Feng Zhiwei smiled faintly, thinking that back then at Xue Futu’s explosion, it was Ning Cheng who saved Ning Yi’s life. If there hadn’t been that rescue, would there not have been all these subsequent causes and effects?

“His Majesty has been very good to me.” Ning Cheng drew his sword, pointing it at Gu Nanyi. “These years I’ve watched him—not easy. So today no matter what, I must keep you both here.”

“Mm, I understand.” Feng Zhiwei nodded, looking deeply sympathetic, then said thoughtfully, “But Ning Cheng, I’ve observed His Majesty’s old injury. Your treatment method back then might really have been wrong…”

“Ah?” Ning Cheng was unprepared for her to suddenly bring this up. He was very wary of Feng Zhiwei, too familiar with her countless schemes. Only what Feng Zhiwei mentioned was indeed his doubt for many years. Back then Ning Yi’s blast injury had damaged his internal organs. The local famous physicians all said cold-natured medicines shouldn’t be used for treatment. He himself took an unconventional approach, using the extremely cold Mystic Ice Jade to suppress the fire poison—even stealing his master’s treasured heirloom for it. Later Ning Yi’s fire poison transformed into cold syndrome, the old illness lingering for years. He had always wondered in his heart whether he had truly been wrong. Now with Feng Zhiwei bringing it up, he couldn’t help but freeze, instinctively stepping forward, asking urgently, “Then tell me where the mistake was? Was using the Mystic Ice Jade wrong…”

That word “wrong” hadn’t yet left his mouth when Feng Zhiwei’s finger suddenly flicked. A trace of faint light flashed. Ning Cheng’s mind went dizzy. Before falling he roared, “You heartless murdering…”

He didn’t finish cursing. His eyes rolled back, his body tilted backward. Feng Zhiwei raised her hand to catch him, with extremely quick hand movements tucking something into his chest, whispering in his ear with a light laugh, “Hey, don’t worry—actually your Mystic Ice Jade really wasn’t used wrong. Otherwise Ning Yi would have died long ago…”

Ning Cheng’s remaining bit of consciousness heard this sentence—just enough to make him faint from anger…

Once he fainted, Feng Zhiwei stopped supporting him. Releasing her hand, Ning Cheng plopped down face-first. On the high platform, Ning Yi seemed about to stand in alarm but his legs weakened and he sat back down. A group of guards quickly rushed over, carrying Ning Cheng back.

Seeing Ning Cheng was fine, Ning Yi breathed a sigh of relief. The gaze he directed over was even colder. Yet Gu Nanyi didn’t even glance up at the platform, continuing forward carrying Feng Zhiwei.

The human tide surged over like ocean waves. The bright light of blades, spears, swords and halberds formed into an enormous light curtain. Gu Nanyi moved within the light curtain like a jumping black lightning bolt threading through steel gaps—splitting, adhering, kicking, hooking, rising, falling… without rest or cease, resisting ten thousand troops with the strength of one person.

His jade sword at his waist had already been deployed. The pale sword light’s tail end had a blood-red hilt. When true force was used to its utmost, that patch of blood light surged, vaguely manifesting a pagoda form. The blood-colored floating tower brought howling fierce winds and weeping shrill cries shrouding the surging human tide. With each step one person injured—within that patch of red-white light pillar’s coverage, ordinary soldiers were no match for him.

A giant mallet came howling over, thrown by some strongman. Gu Nanyi lightly swept past, one foot stepping onto the giant tree. With just a light step, that cannonball-like momentum instantly stopped. Gu Nanyi’s jade sword swung once—blood-red, moon-white brilliant light flashed—the golden mallet split into ten thousand fragments!

Like moonlight bursting in all directions.

Cries of “aiya” rang out continuously as guards near the impact were struck by fragments.

The fragments were still shooting out when Gu Nanyi’s single hand swept out, tracing a circular arc. Before him a huge vortex suddenly formed, ceaselessly rotating without sound. All the fragments around were drawn into the vortex, then instantly turned to powder.

Various weapons thrust into the vortex immediately vanished.

The deep red, moon-white radiance was like moonlight with mystical destructive power—wherever it shone, there collapsed.

In merely an instant, as if parting waves through a sea of people, leaving overlapping layers of temporarily incapacitated fallen crowds, Gu Nanyi charged out of the second encirclement. Looking up he saw opposite the towering palace gate and countless cold arrow points.

Atop the palace gate, giant crossbow mechanisms creaked and turned. The gate top was densely packed with archers, bows drawn to full, unmoving. Gu Nanyi had just stepped forward when with a “swish,” a perfectly straight row of crossbow bolts instantly pinned before his feet, only one inch from his toes.

Atop the gate a figure flashed out—armored, face still quite young, expression complex.

Feng Zhiwei also softly said “Ah,” murmuring low, “Little Yao…”

Gu Nanyi snorted, meaning that if Yao Yangyu dared release arrows he would kill just the same.

Yao Yangyu stood frozen atop the palace gate’s second floor, fingers gripping the wall edge tightly, gazing at the two people below.

Tonight he had received orders to detain any assassins daring to break into the palace. As Imperial Guards commander, this was his duty. However, coming over earlier he had encountered Chunyu Meng. This battlefield brother had very strangely told him, Wei Zhi has returned—you be careful.

He was utterly baffled by this statement. Minister Wei had been implicated in the eighteenth year of Changxi in Prince Chu’s crown prince establishment affair and was demoted to Shanbei. In the twentieth year of Changxi it was reported he had died of illness. At that time he had even wept bitterly, sending people to Shanbei to pay respects, only to receive the report that burial had already taken place with the grave site unknown. After that, thinking of it from time to time, he always felt heartsick, feeling this mentor, friend and benefactor’s silent passing was his life’s greatest regret. Sometimes he also felt puzzled—how could someone as brilliant and talented as Wei Zhi die so obscurely and without renown?

This puzzle finally had an answer today. When he saw Gu Nanyi atop the city tower, saw the frail woman on Gu Nanyi’s back, saw Ning Cheng’s expression, he suddenly understood everything.

The peerless national scholar and foremost able minister of the Changxi court, Wei Zhi. The Great Cheng nation’s world-sweeping foremost Empress, Feng Zhiwei.

Yao Yangyu gazed quietly at that pair of man and woman, remembering Qingming Academy’s Wei Instructor who played flying ball and Manager Gu who blew whistles. Remembering Wei Zhi who fell before the Nanhai ancestral hall and the blinded Prince Chu. Remembering Wei Zhi who fought hard and was captured at White Head Cliff and Hua Qiong who sacrificed herself to protect her. Remembering Helian Zheng’s explosive rage below Dayue’s Pucheng city tower, him kneeling in the snowy ground, and Wei Zhi’s heart-stopping leap.

Suddenly his eyes moistened.

So that was it. So that was it.

His fingers slowly drew back. His eyes surged with thoughts, gradually calming.

Feng Zhiwei had been smiling all along, watching him with nostalgic and joyful eyes. At this moment she suddenly said, “Not good—Little Yao is the righteous type who’ll give us a break no matter what. We should make the first move so he won’t be put in a difficult position.”

Gu Nanyi glanced at her, thinking wasn’t someone giving them a break a good thing? But he didn’t oppose her opinion either. His toe touched down and he flew up first, directly attacking the palace gate’s second level.

Yao Yangyu stared at him charging over, his lips moving once—as expected, he gave no order to release arrows.

Behind him, however, a figure suddenly flashed.

That person appeared extremely eerily, as if generated on the spot. Even Gu Nanyi charging straight over only saw a pair of arms that suddenly grasped toward Yao Yangyu’s throat!

At this moment Yao Yangyu’s mind was entirely on Gu Nanyi and Feng Zhiwei. How could he expect someone behind him? He couldn’t even dodge in time. Yet Gu Nanyi instinctively struck out with a palm, hitting toward the sneak attacker.

That person’s sleeve flicked, receiving this palm with ease. He didn’t move a muscle, his fingertips already landed on Yao Yangyu’s throat. But Gu Nanyi swayed, nearly falling from the tower.

Feng Zhiwei sensed the cold qi in his body growing wave after wave, clearly a bout of fighting and rescue in this weather about to see snowfall had triggered the cold syndrome. She bit her teeth to keep herself from chattering, lest she alarm Gu Nanyi.

That person unhurriedly restrained Yao Yangyu, looking at Gu Nanyi with a kind of deathly gaze, shaking his head, “How is this child still this temperament? At such a time you actually go save an enemy?”

Gu Nanyi stared at him unmoved. Feng Zhiwei’s heart stirred—this speaking tone was very strange.

Looking carefully at that person—wearing a mask, wrapped in a silver robe. Though such a bright color, wearing it on him still made one feel dark and inconspicuous. This person had a concealed feeling all around, like a silver ring snake silently flicking its tongue in darkness.

This kind of dress and temperament were both very familiar.

“You all stand down.” That person restrained Yao Yangyu, ordering the surging soldiers. His voice was somewhat hoarse.

Yao Yangyu immediately said, “Stand down, stand down!”

He showed no panic at all, even seemed somewhat cheerful. Feng Zhiwei smiled bitterly.

“Knowing how to cooperate—very good.” That person laughed hoarsely, “You two, come with me.”

“No need.” Feng Zhiwei said indifferently, “What should I call you? Golden Feather Guards Commander? Or Senior Xue Futu?”

That person fell quiet for a moment, then laughed again. This time the laughter differed from the previous hoarse unpleasantness—gentle and clear, mellow and pleasant. Then his hand lifted, removing the mask.

Before them was a middle-aged man’s face. Though the corners of brows and eyes inevitably showed weathering, the features were quite outstanding—one could see that in his youth he must have been a rare handsome man.

Feng Zhiwei examined his features carefully and thoroughly for a long while, comparing them with her adoptive father’s appearance in memory. After a long while she sighed reluctantly, “There is still some resemblance.”

That man glanced at her, then turned his head to carefully and thoroughly examine Gu Nanyi, sighing after a long while.

Feng Zhiwei also looked at Gu Nanyi. At this moment she didn’t want to bring up old matters in front of Gu Nanyi, but that man’s gaze at Gu Nanyi let her know that even if she didn’t speak, the other party would certainly bring it up first. She could only whisper softly in Gu Nanyi’s ear, “Nanyi, this is your… father.”

Gu Nanyi trembled slightly, only then turning to examine him, the gaze revealed through the membrane filled with confusion.

Gu Yan smiled slightly, nodding to Feng Zhiwei in thanks for not mentioning old matters, then gently beckoned to Gu Nanyi, “Yi’er, come, let father look at you.”

Gu Nanyi observed him silently for a long while, yet tightened Feng Zhiwei on his back, saying, “No need.”

Gu Yan froze, smiling bitterly, “Yi’er, do you blame father for abandoning you all these years? Father had his difficulties…”

He stopped, not knowing how to explain his difficulties—say that back then the Gu family’s lineage succession was too difficult so he had long wanted to leave Xue Futu? Say he had allied with the Ning imperial clan early before Great Cheng’s collapse? Say that night he pretended to turn back to block enemies but took the opportunity to knock out Zhan Xuyao? Say he slipped away on a shortcut carrying a prepared infant to deceive the valley master? Say afterward he hid in the palace for four years to avoid eldest brother’s pursuit? Say he accepted the Golden Feather Guards Commander position to live in darkness just for the chance to protect his Nanyi in the future? Say he became Golden Feather Guards Commander but never truly struck fatal blows against Great Cheng remnants? Say he didn’t intentionally abandon young Nanyi causing him to wander the martial world…

His outstretched hand froze in midair. Opposite him was a son who refused recognition at reunion. All these years he had known of his existence, but for certain reasons dared not show himself. He knew of Nanyi’s formidable power and didn’t worry for his safety. Only after determining what Feng Zhiwei intended to do, fearing Nanyi would be implicated, he couldn’t help but act, saying he would kill Ning Yi—only to be outmaneuvered by Feng Zhiwei. Casting aside his Golden Feather Guards Commander identity, these past years wandering the ends of the earth, dealing with life-and-death enemies’ endless pursuit, in that wandering journey he suddenly discovered he had grown old, and in those lonely years, he missed Nanyi so deeply.

Nanyi, his child—everything he did was always for him. That was his and his beloved woman’s only son. She exhausted her strength and died giving birth to him. At that time he was away on a mission for Xue Futu… When he rushed back, everything was already too late. Before dying, he held her hand and promised to leave Xue Futu, promised to let Nanyi live well.

But he couldn’t leave Xue Futu. He was a Gu family member, a Xue Futu core member. As long as he showed the slightest intention to leave, eldest brother would kill him.

Unless Xue Futu no longer existed.

And so, he did just that.

Regardless of all consequences, in the end still reaping unexpected results—eldest brother didn’t die, pursued him to the ends of the earth. When he turned back to find Nanyi, the household had been purged by the court. His betrayal was the highest secret—low-level officials couldn’t possibly know. In that search, little Nanyi had wandered into the martial world, whereabouts unknown. While evading eldest brother’s investigation, he anxiously searched, but was ultimately one step too slow. Nanyi was found first by the Zong family. When he saw Zong Chen pick up that small child covered in wounds, he knew that in this life, his Nanyi would still walk that Xue Futu destined path. In this life, his Nanyi would ultimately be his enemy.

Fate refused to lightly forgive traitors.

Feng Zhiwei saw the desolation in Gu Yan’s eyes, earning from her a soft sigh. She didn’t plan to tell Nanyi the truth—why make this pure person face the bleakness of relatives being enemies? Back then Gu Yan had harmed her. At this point she didn’t want to dwell on it. Harmed Gu Heng—Gu Heng could settle accounts with him in the underworld himself.

Mutual revenge never had an end. Why bother?

“Go.” She gently pushed Gu Nanyi. “Your father has his difficulties. Now that he’s finally revealed himself, you should at least meet him.”

Gu Nanyi always listened to her. Though still full of doubt, slowly thinking about why this father suddenly appeared and why he was the Golden Feather Guards Commander, he still stepped forward.

Joy burst forth in Gu Yan’s eyes.

“You finally show your face!” Suddenly a furious shout—another black shadow shot down from the eaves corner, sleeves sweeping with palm wind like angry waves, directly attacking Gu Yan’s back!

Hearing this shout, Gu Yan’s expression changed drastically. Grabbing Yao Yangyu, he retreated. Gu Nanyi instinctively turned and raised his palm, meeting that person’s palm force. With a thunderous sound, the opponent retreated one step while Gu Nanyi retreated three steps, a trace of blood slowly appearing at the corner of his lips.

“Foolish boy!” The newcomer wore a black long robe with red inner garments, a pair of thick eyebrows black as ink dye, pointing and shouting angrily, “What father? This is Xue Futu’s traitor! All these years I’ve wrongly borne this evil name for you. Today I’ve finally found you! Gu Yan, it’s time for you and me to settle this!”

“Xiao Liu.” Gu Yan laughed bitterly.

All these years, Zhan Xuyao unwilling to bear the traitor’s name, had hidden his identity and searched for him to the ends of the earth. He even suspected he was hiding in the court and didn’t hesitate to stay by Xin Ziyan’s side as an attendant, trying every means to find him out. He of course knew, which was why he never dared show himself. Yet today he was still caught.

“Hahahaha, all here? All here? Fight! Fight! All die!” Suddenly from below came another shrill laugh, the voice piercing. Everyone froze, looking down to see in the square below, a woman covered in blood raised her scarred face, laughing madly and shrilly.

Consort Qing.

Earlier Gu Nanyi had opened her cell door. When taking Feng Zhiwei out of the dungeon he hadn’t closed the door. She was frightened into mental confusion, stumbling all the way out. Though many soldiers outside were nervously surrounding and blocking Gu Nanyi, even if someone saw her in this wretched state, no one had the heart to strike. She actually crawled and rolled along the path Gu Nanyi had killed through to beneath the palace gate.

Zhan Xuyao saw her at a glance, freezing before recognizing her, immediately shouting angrily, “You vile woman! You deceived me saying you could find where the traitor was, pretending to want to form an alliance with me, making me kill for you, even stealing the imperial heir’s brocade handkerchief I had hidden. How I hate that I was deceived by you for so long! I should have killed you!”

“Haha… I did help you search…” Consort Qing shrieked with laughter. “Can’t find him—how is that my fault…”

From afar someone suddenly shouted, “Consort Qing! Who did you have this person kill!”

Speaking was Ning Cheng, standing on the high platform beside Ning Yi, leaning down to listen to Ning Yi’s instructions and asking accordingly.

Zhan Xuyao snorted without speaking. Consort Qing was extremely proud. Having endured years of torture, her mind long since unclear, she giggled at this moment, “Shaoning’s son! I had Zhan Xuyao go kill him. How about that? That arrow was quite impressive, wasn’t it?”

On the high platform, Ning Yi closed his eyes and sighed.

On the palace gate’s second level, Feng Zhiwei simultaneously closed her eyes, pressing her chest.

So it was him. So it was her.

That night she spied on the imperial temple, was knocked from the wall by someone who led her to outside Lanxiang Court, just as Consort Qing gave birth secretly in the tunnel and Shaoning brought private troops to rescue. Afterward she saved the infant from Yin’er’s hands, then encountered Ning Yi’s interception.

That night she handed the child to Ning Yi, turned the corner to discover the child bloodied and dead in his embrace.

That night she tried for the second time to set aside her reservations and trust again, only to be destroyed by cold reality.

That night was their true dividing line. From then on she made up her mind, walking further and further until tearing the nation apart, separated by the ends of the earth.

That night was the beginning of much later suffering and torment, even today’s irretrievable outcome—a life’s turning point began there.

Yet it turned out to be merely Consort Qing’s carefully laid trap.

A trap to make him and her, already harboring reservations, completely opposed.

She had Zhan Xuyao lead her to Lanxiang Court, switched Shaoning’s child to impersonate her own child and place in Feng Zhiwei’s hands. When Feng Zhiwei handed the child to Ning Yi, she had Zhan Xuyao shoot an arrow to kill Shaoning’s child when Feng Zhiwei approached the alley, making Feng Zhiwei witness with her own eyes “Ning Yi’s betrayal.”

Meticulous, ruthless—timing and opportunity grasped seamlessly.

Consort Qing still laughed, her raised face bloody and unrecognizable, looking fierce as a demon. This was her life’s most proud work. Whenever thinking of it, she felt that playing Feng Zhiwei and Ning Yi in the palm of her hand was truly life’s great pleasure.

“Swish!”

A long arrow viciously pierced through Consort Qing’s back. With such fierce momentum, passing through Consort Qing’s body, it still skewered her on the arrow, rushing forward to pin her living to the ground.

Consort Qing’s laughter stopped abruptly. On the arrow, she turned back with difficulty, blood flowing from mouth and nose, the mad laughter in her eyes not yet extinguished.

On the high platform, Ning Cheng heavily threw down the bow in his hands, fiercely stomping on it with his foot, loudly saying, “I couldn’t hold back—please punish me, Your Majesty!”

On the soft sedan, Ning Yi said nothing, slowly raising his hand to cover his eyes.

On the palace gate’s second level, Feng Zhiwei buried her face in Gu Nanyi’s back, letting hot tears flow freely.

“Those who deserve death will die.” Zhan Xuyao’s cold voice rang above everyone’s heads. “Gu Yan, today atop this imperial city, let you and I settle our old grievance!”

He stepped forward. Everyone on the tower felt the wind before them grow fierce.

The fierce wind added wet, cold things, fine and scattered, sweeping over. Throughout the sky like scattered paper money torn across the ground.

It was snowing.

Shattered snow silently rushed from deep in the dark black sky, whirling at the palace gate tower. When swirling near Zhan Xuyao it no longer drifted scattered. That black-clothed man stood towering and majestic, both hands virtually cradling as if embracing mountains. Those snowflakes spiraled and condensed in his true qi’s vortex, bit by bit transforming into shattered snow clubs spinning before him, howling back and forth.

Gu Yan presented another situation. He had already released Yao Yangyu. Facing this lifelong great enemy, his expression grave but his bearing composed, one foot forward one foot back, he silently and slowly drew a golden soft sword from behind his waist.

Though the two stood facing each other, killing intent like this midnight mist had already silently spread. Soldiers on all sides were frozen in place, unable to advance or retreat. Even Gu Nanyi’s body trembled slightly, unable to extricate himself. Having brought Feng Zhiwei out while frozen, his illness flared and his strength exhausted—at this moment he was already at his limit, temporarily unable to escape the combat circle of these two great masters.

Gu Nanyi also hadn’t thought of escaping. He stood there, staring blankly at those two. No matter how unwilling to think, at this moment he understood everything. Gu Yan, his father, his only blood relative in this life, was at this moment before his eyes engaged in mortal combat with someone.

That was his father. That was Xue Futu’s traitor.

He had taken up Xue Futu’s mission early, dedicating his life to the person Xue Futu’s oath protected. His twenty-plus years of life singular, constant, never changing. He thought this was the rule, this was fate, this was unshakeable. Yet suddenly he met his father, then before having time to feel joy or resentment, suddenly knew—his biological father was Xue Futu’s enemy.

Gu Nanyi stood quietly there, yet his fingers suddenly began trembling. Deep in his heart’s sea something rumbled bleakly, crashing against his solid-as-one heart’s defense, cracking out traces, painfully raw.

Was this what people commonly called fate’s irony?

So sour and aching, so cold…

Among the crowd only two people didn’t watch this battlefield. One was Feng Zhiwei on Gu Nanyi’s back. She lay quietly, long lashes drooping, her complexion gradually taking on a transparent color. The other was Ning Yi far on the high platform. He stood on the snowy platform, gazing from afar toward Feng Zhiwei’s direction, his features showing a slight pallor.

A moment’s difficult silence. After that moment, the killing intent filling heaven and earth exploded!

“Kill!” Zhan Xuyao shouted fiercely, his arm sweeping, transforming snow into clubs. The snow clubs carried tornado-like momentum breaking through air, striking directly at Gu Yan’s chest. Where that giant club passed, people’s hair stood on end three yards away. Corner lanterns all tilted together, their light dimming. With a snap, paper surfaces shattered into thousands of butterflies.

“Go!” Golden light flashed. Gu Yan’s sword came later but arrived first. As sword light brightened, the already dimmed lantern fires suddenly blazed bright. The crackling and shattering sounds all around grew louder. This time what shattered was the ground—the solid blue stone floor cracked like a spider web, like ferocious cracks charging directly toward Zhan Xuyao’s feet.

Zhan Xuyao sneered and met it. Snow light and golden light collided thunderously. Within the brilliance, two figures leapt and tumbled, fast as lightning, moves almost impossible to see clearly. Wherever the two passed, all things were destroyed. Following their rapid movement, section after section of railings silently and quietly collapsed as if ice and snow melting under sunlight. After landing, with each step the two took, a deep long crack appeared on the ground, dust filling the sky, all shooting onto people’s heads above and below.

On the high platform, Ning Yi watched the two great masters’ battlefield, frowning, murmuring low, “Tell them to stop, don’t injure…”

He didn’t continue. Ning Cheng already shouted loudly, “Block them for me, no fighting allowed!” and himself ran over.

Yao Yangyu waved his hand, directing soldiers to rush forward.

The crowd surged forward.

Then staggered backward.

Like small grass meeting storm and wind—those in front crashed into those behind. Those behind were about to make way when suddenly feeling immense fierce true force pressing down like a giant wave overhead. Unable to help staggering backward, they crashed into those behind them, and those behind wanting to dodge were meeting the next wave of qi…

Wave after wave, like the ocean generating waves without rest. No one could stand steady within three yards of the two. In the end everyone rolled into a heap like candied hawthorns.

A peerless battle.

No one could approach. No one could stop it, unless using lives as padding.

In a flash a hundred moves had passed. Heaven and earth also seemed startled by this peerless battle—wind and snow grew fiercer.

“Clang!”

Suddenly a tremendous sound. Snow-colored pale gold radiance converged. Vaguely two figures leapt high, meeting in midair—

Gu Nanyi suddenly severed the binding behind him with one sword. Blood light flashed as he flew upward—

“Nanyi——”

Having collapsed to the ground when the binding was cut, Feng Zhiwei struggled to cry out this phrase. In the wind and snow she struggled to extend her fingers, only touching his garment hem floating behind him.

“Nanyi——”

A muffled sound. Radiance instantly withdrew. In the flying snow, three people fell. Before Gu Yan landed, he already burst out a pained cry.

His golden sword pierced Gu Nanyi’s chest, while Zhan Xuyao’s palm pressed on Gu Nanyi’s back.

The three maintained this posture, standing frozen in snow unmoving. Both Gu Yan and Zhan Xuyao showed shocked expressions.

Just now in that final move, the two great masters were evenly matched—originally a mutual destruction move. Who knew Gu Nanyi would suddenly rush up? The two couldn’t retract their momentum in time—killing moves all fell upon him.

In the dark wind and snow, a suffocating quiet—so quiet one could hear falling snow, hear within the falling snow sound, fresh blood gurgling out, silently soaking black nightwear.

Something rustled down, dyeing red the ground’s thin layer of fallen snow.

Gu Nanyi lowered his head, gently pushing away Gu Yan who rushed over. He seemed not to feel pain, nor feel anything wrong. He turned, only wanting to see Feng Zhiwei.

He turned and saw Feng Zhiwei collapsed in the snow. Her complexion was white nearly to transparency, her lashes bearing shattered snow. That snow wasn’t melted by warm breath—so cold and rustling, falling on her face. She opened a pair of misty autumn-water eyes watching him, those eyes so black so deep, yet the light at their depths was gradually scattering.

Gu Nanyi froze there.

In an instant he forgot his severe injury, forgot that pair of mortal combat enemies, forgot relatives facing him while enemies continued, forgot this was atop the imperial city with myriad troops watching like tigers. He froze there, only feeling blood vessels instantly hardening, shattering, exploding, bursting out a sky full of star flowers. Heaven and earth thus collapsed thunderously.

He lunged over, fresh blood spraying all the way. That lunging posture—he almost slid on his knees across the snow. He knelt beside Feng Zhiwei, frantically supporting her. With this support he felt her body alarmingly soft. He wanted to test her breath, but he himself was cold as ice—touching anything felt scalding hot. His fingers felt frantically for her pulse. The instant he touched her pulse, he suddenly pitched forward.

A mouthful of fresh blood simultaneously spurted from his mouth, splashing like peach blossoms on Feng Zhiwei’s face. Her expression snow-white made that blood color vivid, vividly heart-stopping.

Feng Zhiwei opened her eyes wide, still with a slight smile in her gaze, faintly saying, “…Nanyi… don’t be foolish…”

She leaned against Gu Nanyi. At this moment having turned direction, with the railing above destroyed earlier by the great battle, she now faced directly toward Ning Yi who suddenly toppled from the soft sedan on the high platform.

Flying snow endlessly spiraled down from the night sky. In the darkness, snowflakes were large as butterflies. She was atop the palace gate tower. He was on the high platform in the palace gate square.

She leaned in Gu Nanyi’s embrace, lips curved in a faint smile.

He half-knelt below the sedan in snow, using his already blurred vision, struggling to see clearly what she was now.

Nine-layered palace halls. Two pairs of gazes condensing.

Not even a hand’s breadth apart, yet become the ends of the earth.

This moment weapons went mute. This moment thoughts like snow. This moment the long sky seemed to have faint flute music, meandering from cloud tops. In a trance, it was the song “Rivers and Mountains Dream.”

Rivers and mountains like a dream, dreaming of rivers and mountains.

Feng Zhiwei smiled faintly.

All sins, only death can redeem.

Long, long ago, she had requested from Zong Chen a poison ensuring certain death. At the time not knowing for whom she prepared it—thinking of it now, naturally it was for herself.

In the secret dungeon, when Gu Nanyi arrived, she had already taken the poison. Saying she wanted to die together with him was merely to make him leave.

With her dead, Ning Yi wouldn’t make things difficult for Nanyi. He would be free.

She had calculated that Gu Yan would appear today. The Great Cheng Empress’s capture shocked the realm. Gu Yan would certainly realize Gu Nanyi would come rescue her. As long as Gu Yan was present, Nanyi wanting to go mad or die wouldn’t be so easy.

She had thought everything through.

The Great Cheng Empress had no reason to live. If she lived, how would Ning Yi explain to the realm’s subjects?

Ning Yi.

Someone once beseeched me with their life—love you, or let you go.

At that time I didn’t listen, because then I thought I had many difficulties. I thought I was fair to you. That year on the river in the boat, I gave myself to you, thinking this repaid your affections in full—one act of passion, thereby bidding farewell. From then wielding sword to sever feelings, becoming enemies across the realm.

Yet only reaching today do I understand—as long as I exist, you have no redemption.

Therefore I let you go.

You must be an eternally sagely emperor, to not waste your arduous journey.

As for me—let Feng Zhiwei who disrupted this mortal realm and disturbed this emperor’s heart disappear from now on.

Without me, everyone can better be themselves again. You. Nanyi.

The smile at her lips gradually transformed into a shallow sighing curve. She laboriously moved her eyes, looking at Gu Nanyi once with apology and tender affection.

A thousand calculations, ten thousand plans—none can calculate fate. She hadn’t expected Zhan Xuyao would also pursue here. Hadn’t expected…

She slightly moved her fingers, touching Gu Nanyi’s trembling, ice-cold fingertips, hoping she still had a little warmth to warm this lonely suffering man one last time.

He lived his whole life for her. Reaching today, he must still endure this heart-grinding suffering.

Fingertips touched fingertips, equally cold, like snowflakes falling on snowflakes.

Then, no more movement.

She lowered her eyes, complexion transparent, snowflakes on her lashes—not melting.

Gu Nanyi suddenly threw back his head.

He threw it back with such force, making people feel as if he wanted to forcefully break his own neck. He seemed to open his mouth wide in an instant to cry out, but no one heard his voice.

His voice melted into the dense, close-falling snowflakes, melted deep into the pitch-black boundless sky, one with sun, moon and stars, never to be erased.

Everyone instantly felt a heavy pressure on their hearts. They stared blankly at that figure in wind, snow and dark night bending himself with great force, quietly listening to that soundless anguished howl. That silence was more heart-shaking than ten thousand people roaring in anger. In that silence one seemed able to hear that immense pain of even bones about to burst, to feel that soul-deep enduring force crashing against four walls. Even this roaring wind, the towering majestic thousand continuous halls, all trembled lightly.

“Clang.” Some people’s hands softened, weapons falling to the ground.

“Thud.” On the high platform, Ning Yi’s body softened and collapsed in snow, spitting out a mouthful of purple-black stagnant blood. In winter weather, in an instant his head was covered in cold sweat.

His elbow pressed desperately against his chest. Even such force seeming to squeeze into his chest cavity couldn’t resist this instant’s surging tide-like pain. That pain’s origin unknown, yet coming fierce and impossible to resist. That pain began from seeing her gaze from atop the palace city’s second level looking across toward him, reaching its peak after her slight pause. Though separated by distance and wind and snow seeing nothing clearly, he so clearly felt her gaze and her sigh—desolate and bleak, full of farewell, like a thin weak gossamer thread connecting each other, then with a “zing,” snapping.

In an instant his vision went black. A thousand palace layers thunderously collapsed.

Having run halfway, Ning Cheng heard the sound and turned back in alarm to pull him. Ning Yi grasped handfuls of snow, convulsing with a head full of cold sweat, shouting loudly, “Block him, block him, block her, block her, let me see, let me see——”

He spoke incoherently. No one understood what he was saying. Everyone still stood frozen in place, not understanding what happened. Only Gu Nanyi suddenly recovered calm, slowly lifting Feng Zhiwei.

Ning Cheng immediately waved his arm—a gesture to “block them!”

“Crash!” Guards who reacted formed weapons into a wall, swiftly blocking before Gu Nanyi.

Gu Nanyi held Feng Zhiwei, chest blood still gurgling unceasingly, yet his gaze was completely vacant. He suddenly stepped forward, one hand holding Feng Zhiwei, the other sleeve sweeping.

Violent wind fiercely rose from the ground. A peerless master’s all-out strike in desperate despair—like an invisible wall thunderously crashing into the guards blocking in a row. Amid cries of alarm, guards fell in rows from the palace city. A guard at the very front staggered backward, his hand flinging up, spear point flying, directly meeting Gu Nanyi’s face with an upward strike—

“Snap.”

The mask fell to the ground.

“Snap snap snap.”

Countless weapons passed over fell to the ground instantly.

“Thud thud thud.”

Countless guards rushing over preparing the next wave to block Gu Nanyi instantly crashed together.

Below the palace city also arose waves of clattering sounds. The myriad troops who had been looking up at the tower—instantly more than half dropped their weapons.

Everyone had the same expression, the same posture—eyes straight, mouths agape, posture stiff, faces dazed.

Atop the tower, holding Feng Zhiwei, Gu Nanyi’s gaze stared straight into darkness, completely unaware.

He stood at the palace hall’s peak, amid flying snow. Black clothing deeper than night color, yet countenance surpassing snow. That was a hundred thousand miles of snowy rivers and mountains concentrated, transformed in one person’s features. That was all the beautiful scenery under heaven refined, dotted at that person’s lips. That was all of spring’s colors like smoke from ancient times to now—ultimately unable to match his brows’ fleeting sigh, shaming the apricot blossoms behind deep curtains of small towers.

Yet all that perfect beauty couldn’t match one ten-thousandth the beauty of those eyes. Those absolutely stunning, city-toppling eyes—even with gaze indifferent, still scattered brilliant light like shooting stars, capturing hearts and souls. Like ten-thousand-year untrodden snow atop Mount Gedan’s peak, melting into jade pools where snow lotuses floated. Like three thousand miles of golden sands, ocean depths beneath deep seas—when thousand-year pearl mussels opened and closed, the azure-purple sea bottom instantly blazed with brilliance, illuminated by that treasure pearl’s vivid radiance spreading vast and expansive.

Such eyes made people dare not look directly. Seeing them in one’s eyes, instantly losing one’s soul.

Unparalleled, radiant countenance.

Everyone’s mind went completely blank, forgetting everything, only remembering this night under the black long sky and thin cold flying snow—the black-haired man covered in blood embracing the pale woman with long hair hanging down, raising his head in a long cry atop palace halls. His exquisite chin stained with blood and snow only made one think of peach blossoms fallen on jade discs. His eyes completely vacant without any person, yet everyone would from then on carry beauty long lodged in dream’s end.

In many years to come, everyone thinking of this moment couldn’t help but stop all matters at hand, silent, infatuated in thought, longing, sighing.

Like longing for a peach blossom spring that didn’t exist in the mortal world, beautiful as divinity because of extreme beauty.

This moment heaven and earth fell silent. Myriad troops before irresistible countenance forgot mission and duty.

This moment no one spoke, fearing sound once uttered would shatter this sprite-like absolute beauty, then desperately discover this shocking beauty was only a dream.

This moment only Ning Yi struggled to rise in the snow, propping on elbows slowly crawling toward Feng Zhiwei’s direction. This moment only Gu Nanyi, holding Feng Zhiwei whose body was slightly cool, in that instant when myriad troops lost their composure due to his radiance, with no one blocking.

Stepped forward.

From atop the ten-yard palace city.

Jumped down.

In a blink winter passed, then came another spring. Spring also slipped away quickly—it seemed one just put on lined jackets, then immediately changed to single robes. Single robes not worn many days, and already hurrying to find last year’s cotton coats.

When every household was busy changing cotton coats, someone still wore single robes, riding alone across the realm.

One set of green robes, one white horse, one green leaf flute—blowing from this winter to that winter.

The leaf flute thin at his lips, the melody already very familiar. All along the way people looked at him strangely, thinking was this person mad?

He paid no attention, raising his head, meeting early winter’s slightly cool wind.

“I’ll teach you a method so you won’t get lost.”

“This type of tree exists throughout Tiansheng’s great rivers north and south. In the future wherever we go, if we get separated, no matter how urgent or inconvenient, we must not forget to leave this pattern under this type of tree’s roots, then easily find each other.”

“You just leave the marks. I know the way—I’ll come find you.”

You promised to find me, but every time it’s me finding you, you… liar.

Blowing the flute, finding you.

That year holding her falling from the palace city, afterward he fainted. When he woke he was on Xiao Bai’s back. That spiritually sentient horse had waited outside the palace city but only carried him away.

He was severely injured but didn’t die. The wound had been well treated. He didn’t know where father and Zhan Xuyao had gone. Perhaps they ceased fighting, perhaps found a new place for mortal combat. He didn’t want to concern himself with this anymore. He only cared about—where was she?

It was said that night he held her and fell. Below were tens of thousands of Imperial Guards. Many said they saw her fall into the crowd, yet no one could find her body. At that time with many people in chaos, some were trampled to death, dying beyond recognition. But bodies were searched one by one—she wasn’t among them.

If not found, there was still hope.

Just search.

This year he walked through Nanhai, through southern Fujian, through grasslands, returned to Xi Liang, smelled Qiyuan’s sea breeze, saw Anlan Gorge’s sea, went to Dayue’s Pucheng, searched the grassland’s White Head Cliff, went to Mount Gedan’s Mirror Lake.

At Nanhai’s docks he wandered everywhere like a ghost, seeking shadows of that year’s tent, stopping before a corner. There, she mischievously stuffed Zhixiao into his embrace, using warmth and milk fragrance to break open his chaotic heaven and earth.

“You were once this soft, this fragrant, held in mother’s arms. You should have also heard mother’s little tunes, been touched on the face by father like this.”

No, Zhiwei. Those I’ve all forgotten. Life’s brightest illuminated traces came from you.

At Pucheng’s Pu Garden he lingered long before the room where she stayed, palm pressed against the cold wall. Back then he also pressed against that wall in this posture. Back then behind the wall was her—across one wall yet seeming to touch her rising and falling heart. Now he only felt his palm ice-cold. Behind the wall an empty room, light and shadows wandering.

Before Mirror Lake at that enormous stone heart opposite, he sat with knees drawn for a long time, waiting for her to suddenly emerge from behind the stone heart, smiling gently at him, saying, “Hey, you really knew I was here.”

He waited three days and nights, stepping on those lotus flowers crossing the lake heart again and again. The snow mountain wind lifted his garment hem. In a trance she was still at his side, taking graceful steps generating lotuses. Yet when he turned his head, always just expansive white emptiness.

He so diligently searched, then one day finally understood—he would never find her again.

Whether living or dead, when she determined to disappear into crowds, then no one could find her.

Thinking this, he again forcefully threw back his face. But even throwing back so urgently, so quickly, he still felt hot liquid silently flowing down.

“If one day I cry for someone, I will never smile again.”

Zhiwei, today for you I finally understand tears. Can you see?

He quietly raised his face, waiting for early winter’s dry wind to blow dry the wetness on his face. That small patch of skin touched by wetness felt somewhat tight, like the ten years of life at her side that were exceptionally tumultuous.

Then he dismounted, taking out paper and brush carried with him.

This year he sometimes wrote words, burying them under trees where he made marks.

In Pucheng he wrote: The herbaceous peonies were beautiful, that dot of red between the brows, lovely. Jin Siyu became emperor. He was actually also in Pucheng. He pretended not to see me, I pretended not to see him.

At White Head Cliff he wrote: I hate that you concealed all important matters from me.

At Qiyuan he wrote: Back then you also nearly died here. At that time I didn’t yet know sorrow. Sometimes when hating, I wonder—what would it have been like if you had really died then? Thought for a long time but still didn’t dare think. By the way, Hua Qiong and Yan Huaishi are doing well now.

At Anlan Gorge he wrote: I know you remember this place. You never said, but I just know you wanted to see the sea here. I saw it for you. Nothing special to see.

At Mirror Lake he wrote: Back then you stuffed a suicide note for Ning Yi in Ning Cheng’s embrace. You gave the wine poison’s antidote to Hua Qiong, gave the secret edict to the Qi father and son, gave two keys to Great Cheng’s secret vault to Hang Ming. You had me find Zhan Xuyao for the last key, open Great Cheng’s secret vault, give it to Ning Yi to compensate fallen soldiers and suffering common people. You had these people present these important things to Ning Yi, giving Ning Yi reasons to preserve their lives. You arranged escape routes for everyone. Why was it only yourself you didn’t arrange for?

Why was it precisely yourself you gave up?

It wasn’t your fault to begin with. Atonement to this point—shouldn’t that be enough?

He sat silently cross-legged at the roadside, no longer finding the ground filthy. After thinking long, he lifted his brush to write.

Zhiwei.

Do you still remember those words?

“I want you to walk out of the cage confining you. I want you to see this world isn’t merely the one foot three inches of ground before your eyes. I want you to stop always being someone in a case where every bowl of meat must have exactly eight pieces. I want you to learn to look directly at me with your gaze. I want you to understand crying, understand laughing, understand caring and quarreling, understand love.”

“…When I finally one day walk out of my heart’s cage, see beyond one foot three inches of ground where people are charming and graceful, remove my case clothing learning to eat meat allowing seven or nine pieces, use entirely new eyes to behold this vast solemn new heaven and earth, first time understanding crying understanding laughing understanding caring and quarreling—yet when I want to tell you all this, cloud sky vast, vast sea flowing empty, where will you be?”

“Since it’s thus, what use do I have for this emerging-from-cocoon life? Better a three-foot thin coffin, one hemp garment. Bury.”

Finished writing, he threw down the brush, casually burying the rolled paper under the tree, not looking back, riding away.

Early winter wind blew past. In the nearby forest came rustling sounds, like countless fallen leaves returning to roots.

This day was the winter solstice.

By rights at winter solstice the palace should have various ceremonies celebrating it. Only Ning Yi had never filled the rear palace. Even previous concubines from the prince’s mansion were dispersed. In the palace there was no Empress Dowager or Empress. These ceremonies could thus be omitted when possible.

In the main hall’s warm pavilion, braziers and furnace fires blazed. Ning Cheng was directing inner attendants to add braziers when the door curtain lifted. Ning Yi entered in light furs and thin robes, glancing indifferently, “Why so many braziers? Want to roast me to death?”

Ning Cheng slapped his forehead, only then remembering—now His Majesty’s old illness had recovered. Winter no longer required such careful avoidance of cold.

He sheepishly carried out the excess braziers. Ning Yi quietly sat before the couch, gazing at the firelight without speaking.

His old illness had recovered. She cured it.

That day in the secret palace, the wine originally was poisoned. But she came. She carried the holy medicine “Boluoxiang” on her body. That fragrance neutralizing the wine poison became the world’s most extremely hot medicine, just right to disperse the cold poison he bore from the Mystic Ice Jade. His intermittent fainting and coughing blood those few days was actually just the necessary process of clearing years of accumulated stagnation. Finally seeing her die, that instant shock—the deepest mouthful of stagnant blood completely spurted out. From then a body without illness, long healthy and long peaceful.

When Hua Qiong brought the antidote, he already knew in his heart. The so-called antidote was merely tonic. She never poisoned him. The poison originally placed in that wine pot was meant to poison his father the emperor. Just that unexpectedly, father unto death never descended to the secret palace’s bottom level.

That year Gu Nanyi held her and jumped from the palace city peak. He immediately fainted. Ning Cheng and attendants busied themselves rescuing him. In the chaos, no one knew what exactly happened. When he woke, the person was gone.

He couldn’t accept this result. What was this? Was she truly going to become ash and dust before him, entering the mire so that even if he dug three feet deep he could never seek her again?

Supporting his ailing body, he examined corpses one by one in the snow. Not many died—besides those swept down by Gu Nanyi’s palm, there were those who died trampled from shock at seeing Gu Nanyi’s countenance. He ignored the mess and stench, personally turning over corpses one by one, then releasing a long sigh of relief each time.

She wasn’t among them.

Yet without seeing with his own eyes whether she lived or died, how could he pass this life with this long-suspended anxious doubt? If not seeing her across the world could exchange for her living, he was willing. But he feared more she was dead yet he didn’t even know where to make offerings.

The following spring, despite ministers’ obstruction he toured south. Though recovering Great Cheng’s territory and receiving Great Cheng’s troops involved many matters, he threw all these matters to Ning Ji, stating this was punishment for Ning Ji’s original betrayal. He himself went all the way south.

South—Jianghuai, Longnan, Longbei, southern Fujian, Nanhai… Walking all the way through—his and her former footprints.

He even personally climbed Jiyang Mountain, walking along the original path without the slightest deviation. The small house before the cliff—remembering her face pressed against his knee bend. The grassy area below the cliff—that patch of disorder seemed to be traces of where he and she sat. The pine squirrel hole on a pine tree in the forest—amazingly seemed still that same one from years ago. He pulled out a handful of pine nuts to eat. Bitter. No longer having yesterday’s sweet purity.

Anlan Gorge’s sea breeze still so ethereal, quiet, ceaselessly arising and ceasing. The boat’s hull rising and falling made one slightly drunk. He closed his eyes, slowly taking out a letter from his chest.

That year at the Wei mansion, she used a bowl of worm soup trying to force him away to hide that letter box. Yet still one letter fell into his hands.

“Zhiwei, today crossing the sea from Anlan Gorge… Always thinking of that day at the ancestral hall. The common people’s voices also like that tide ceaselessly arising and ceasing. Then you fell into my embrace, as if the sea water suddenly poured back…”

If at this moment sea water pouring back could exchange for her return, he would also be willing.

Slowly putting away that letter, his fingertips slightly shifted in his chest, touching another paper slip.

His fingers paused. After a long while he slowly drew it out. The letter was preserved very properly, edges not curled. His fingers gently rubbed the envelope, not opening it.

This letter—he secretly found it in the crack of her study at the Wei mansion. Treasuring it, using three months’ time, he bit by bit finished reading it. Yet no matter how reluctant, not daring unwilling to read more, it couldn’t withstand long time’s repeated irresistible savoring and reminiscence. Reaching today, every sentence every word—already thoroughly memorized.

“…Ning Yi… When that time comes I want to personally hear that reed marsh’s sound like sea tide in wind, or perhaps a bird will alight on my garment. Mm… would you be willing to listen together once more?”

Zhiwei, I’m willing.

But that reed marsh blooms and withers yearly, always without you smiling and looking back, standing shoulder to shoulder with me.

In the mountaintop abandoned temple he slowly sat in the position where he and she once leaned together. On the wet cold ground amid dim lamps and faint mist, he took out the flute from his chest, slowly playing “Rivers and Mountains Dream.”

Rivers and mountains like a dream, person in dream deeply enchanted not yet awakened—when to walk out?

That day the tune finished. Ning Cheng brought water. He inadvertently lowered his head, starkly seeing a white hair picked out from his temple.

That strand of white shone conspicuously amid a mass of black. He stared blankly at it. In a trance he realized fleeting years had gone far.

“Dream’s rivers and mountains, rivers and mountains like dream… This bout of chaos with your fighting my killing—in the end exchanged for what? Nothing but half a cup of thin wine, a body of dejection, several tunes on a broken zither, temples full of wind and frost.”

Those words long ago came true.

Zhiwei, your remaining years—are you truly going to be separated from me by mountains and seas like this?

That southern tour—touring old dreams from years past. Past events came vividly, yet old friends no longer present.

He extended his hand, slowly plucking that one white hair.

“…This scene isn’t now, but many years later. Me with graying brows making cakes for you, then we dine at the same table. You wipe my sweat, telling me—old man, tired of cakes, tomorrow want to eat dried bamboo shoots with wind chicken.”

Zhiwei, my brows not yet frosted, hair already white.

When will you return to ask me for dried bamboo shoots with wind chicken?

Jiyang Mountain’s wind slowly blew, blowing past that shoulder of wisteria fragrance.

After returning from the southern tour he wasn’t disheartened—this year couldn’t find you, then next year. Next year can’t find you, the year after is also possible.

Some searching cannot have an end.

Footsteps sounded outside. An inner attendant’s long announcement that Prince Kang arrived. The door curtain lifted. Ning Ji’s face red from cold met warm air, immediately sneezing.

“Come sit.” He pointed to the brazier.

Ning Ji carefully sat over. Ever since that year “betraying” him, Ning Ji presented this appearance of being too ashamed to face him. He watched, warmth in his heart, yet didn’t want to speak to make it easier for him—he bore grudges because Ning Ji concealed things, causing him to mistakenly injure Zhiwei with that palm.

“There’s movement at Changning.” Ning Ji reported the latest military situation to him. “Lu Zhiyan indicates willingness to surrender, but raised some conditions. Please Your Majesty consider.”

Ning Yi flipped through the memorial, smiling, “This little fellow is quite shrewd.” Thinking, he tossed the memorial, “Approved.”

“Your Majesty.” Ning Ji’s face was full of incomprehension. “The grand army already occupies absolute advantage. As long as there’s one more great victory, Changning will absolutely completely collapse. Why do you…”

Ning Yi smiled faintly.

“Don’t you feel this year’s various moves at Changning seem somewhat different from before?”

Ning Ji blankly shook his head. Ning Yi looked at him with some distress, thinking how could this fellow not be cultivated?

“Probably someone else’s handiwork… This style…” He stood, in good spirits smiling, “Grant his request. It’s also time to give soldiers rest and recuperation. I need Changning to immediately return as Tiansheng’s vassal.” He paused, emphasizing, “Immediately.”

“Yes.”

Ning Ji respectfully withdrew. Ning Yi stood in the hall, gazing toward that direction, lips curved in a faint smile.

Under heaven so vast—I and Gu Nanyi have both walked through, only omitting one place. A place that now belongs to an enemy nation, where I cannot tour south and Gu Nanyi also overlooked.

If my memory isn’t wrong, you and Lu Zhiyan agreed on three matters. Before that year, only two were completed.

What was that last matter?

Wasn’t it a resting, hidden place?

Back then you truly intended self-destruction, but I don’t believe Zong Chen would truly not care for you.

When Changning returns as Tiansheng’s vassal, I as Son of Heaven can go however I want. How can you still hide?

He carried a shallow longing smile, walking toward the inner hall.

Behind him wind suddenly rose, coming extremely fast, instantly splitting quiet air, carrying bone-piercing skin-stabbing cold.

He turned sharply. Before his eyes lightning-like white light flashed.

In chaos he heard someone furiously shout.

“Ning Yi, today you and I—mutual destruction!”

In the fifth year of Fengxiang’s winter reign, shocking news rapidly spread across Tiansheng’s great land.

A green-robed nameless assassin broke into the imperial palace, assassinating the reigning emperor. The Fengxiang Emperor was gravely wounded and died. After succeeding, the assassin laughed three times, saying, “Dying together is clean!” Then also drew his sword and cut his own throat.

Rivers and mountains in mourning, myriad people in grief.

This day snow fell again, falling thin, instantly submerged by horse hooves on official roads. Roads thus muddy and difficult, travelers thus increasingly scarce.

Yet one rider galloped on the official road, horse hooves clattering, urgent and sharp. The rider’s trouser legs were splattered with mud, yet still didn’t reduce speed, wind-fast as lightning. Looking at that travel-worn appearance, must have been rushing a long time.

Ahead not far—Luo County traveling palace.

That rider reined in the horse not far from the traveling palace, gazing from afar at the expanse of plain white traveling palace, body trembling slightly.

It was said the Fengxiang Emperor like the Changxi Emperor both chose Luo County traveling palace as their final resting place. Now the late emperor’s spirit rested here. After seven times seven—forty-nine days, burial.

The rider gazed at that shockingly conspicuous white, long biting lower lip, fingers gripping the reins constantly trembling, for a time actually hesitating and uncertain, not daring approach.

Perhaps because all thoughts at this moment were on the traveling palace ahead, the rider didn’t notice—not far on Mount Li, behind a solitary cliff and withered tree, someone also stood from afar, watching this direction.

He had waited here ten days. In this moment of rivers and mountains in mourning, finally waiting for one rider returning from afar.

He stood far under the tree. Mountain wind stirred his garment hem—sky-water blue like jade water flowing leisurely, clear as in years past.

A layer of thin white gauze covered his countenance. Since that year’s snowy night stunning appearance, he again densely sealed away peerless radiance.

Too absolutely stunning ultimately breaks fortune—one’s own or others’ fortune. Many years ago, someone told him this.

Physical appearance ultimately passing smoke and clouds, just as in his heart, always most vivid was that girl with hunting garments and lowered yellow face.

He long gazed in that direction, then slowly turned away his eyes, focusing on cloud tops. In a trance still that year at the capital’s outskirts—he stood unmoving in his one foot three inches of ground. That girl approached, several parts cunning, several parts uneasy, several parts probing, gently opening her mouth.

“Hey, hero?”

From then breaking his congealed chaotic heaven and earth, giving him a five-colored brilliant new world.

He smiled gently.

The face veil moved. Sunlight retreated. Wind reaching here also moved gently as if dancing, seeming not to dare disturb this moment’s absolutely stunning divine radiance. How beautiful that smile—yet never would anyone know.

Beauty in lonely fragrant place.

He slowly raised his hand, lightly touching the curve of his own lips—so this was smiling.

Following that year’s anguished cry, that year’s tears, he once again understood smiling.

Very good. Very good.

This life cannot be too greedy. That year in flying snow she leaned in his embrace, last glance toward the high platform’s direction—he instantly understood everything.

Understood where the heart belonged. Understood where feelings connected. Understood mortal emotions have thousands upon thousands of kinds, love has even more modes of expression. No need to obsess over that ultimate.

She gave him this life’s entirety. He returned her a lifetime’s fulfillment.

As for himself.

Came, loved, cried, laughed.

Already enough.

He carried this life’s first trace of smiling intent, turning, going south.

Farewell, my love.

The world’s ends are far. From now you are in my heart.

The solitary cliff silent. A trace of wind suddenly swept past, sweeping down from the withered tree’s crown several snowflakes, falling at the rider’s temple. The rider instinctively looked up toward that direction.

There the solitary cliff dark black. There the withered tree slightly green. There under the tree a patch of fallen snow white and level, without any footprint traces.

As if here, there never was anyone who stood waiting through the night for that one glance.

The rider’s gaze swept past aimlessly, then withdrew. Drawing a breath, flying up from the horse.

All the way using lightness skills, penetrating layer upon layer of rooftops, heading straight for the last inner hall. At a glance seeing the pure white jade steps with palace doors wide open, within the hall—incense smoke curling, an enormous golden nine-dragon dragon coffin silently soundless.

The rider stopped, suddenly feeling knees soften, stumbling, quickly instinctively reaching out to support something nearby.

Under the fingers softness—supporting a smooth soft object, carrying familiar startling temperature and texture.

A person’s hand.

The rider’s body stiffened, head lowered. On the ground a layer of thin snow like a mirror vaguely reflecting sky light and water color. Nearby several branches of red plum blossomed furiously, branches forcefully brown, vivid and lush. Beside the plum blossoms was a slender shadow, right at the side.

Wind at the palace hall’s end blew apart smoke and light. All around spread a layer of twilight-like mist.

Having atoned for all sins, transcending life and death—today before the golden coffin and old hall, everything like a dream.

The rider stiffened, not daring blink, fearing between eyelid closings and openings, the dream would shatter coldly in tears.

Yet that warm soft hand gently turned, wrapping the delicate small palm within.

Then he smiled.

Turned his head.

(End)