The Shuang Family estate lay to the northwest of the city. After passing through the gates and riding for a stretch, the left side of the road gradually gave way to a vast, barren Gobi desert, while the right remained lush with broad green oases — a scene both fantastical and magnificent. It was across this expansive sky and open earth that Pu Zhu galloped on horseback to reach the estate.

Shuang Shi received word of her arrival and was overjoyed, coming out personally to welcome her. Seeing that Pu Zhu had come alone, she asked about Li Xuandu. Pu Zhu explained, “He has not yet returned. Word came that it will likely be a few more days. I had intended to wait for him so we could come together to pay our respects, but today I had nothing to do on that side, and I happened to think of you, Madam — so I came ahead on my own, without standing on ceremony.”

Shuang Furen was even more delighted to hear this. “What ceremony is there between us? The fact that you thought to come see me is more than enough to make me happy.” She asked about the journey, and upon learning that Pu Zhu had ridden at full gallop for nearly an hour without stopping, she quickly had the steward take her escort to rest while she led Pu Zhu inside herself.

The remainder of that afternoon, Pu Zhu spent within the estate, receiving Shuang Shi’s attentive and wholehearted care.

As evening gradually descended, when dinner time arrived, Shuang Shi — seeing the weather was clear and fine — had the meal set up on an open-air terrace. The ground was laid with carpets; gauze curtains drifted around the pillars; and behind a decorative screen, seven or eight musicians were concealed, cradling their lutes and swaying their silver bells, performing for their mistress and honored guest.

A grand pavilion, fine dishes and fine wine — within gauze curtains drifting on the breeze, the notes of a melodious and pleasing tune drifted to the ear. Even the vessels set before them to hold the food were gilded and silver-etched, and there was not a single place that did not display exquisite beauty and lavish refinement. Across from her, Shuang Furen was all warm smiles and boundless warmth.

By rights, this dinner should have been thoroughly enjoyable.

On the surface, Pu Zhu certainly appeared to be enjoying herself.

She laughed and chatted with Shuang Furen, describing some of the exciting moments from the polo tournament the previous month — but in truth, her heart had grown a little restless. And as the sky grew darker and darker, with maidservants lighting brilliant lanterns around the terrace, she quietly turned her head and glanced in the direction of Shuang City, and her inner turmoil grew even more pronounced.

The reason she had come here today was purely on a whim.

She had thought that by seeing Shuang Shi and changing her surroundings, she might also change her mood.

And indeed, at first, seeing Shuang Shi after so long, she truly had been happy. But as that period passed and the day drew to a close, as the sky darkened little by little, she began to feel increasingly ill at ease.

She wanted to go back…

It was not that Shuang Shi had treated her poorly — it was her own doing. She simply could not help herself: the moment night fell, she kept thinking about Li Xuandu.

And just a moment ago, a thought had surfaced in her mind.

Suppose — hypothetically speaking — that he came back early and learned she had left the Protectorate without him. Would he be disappointed in her? Even displeased?

He was out fighting a war, and a single moment of carelessness could cost him his life. Instead of waiting obediently at the Protectorate to hold the rear for him, she had abandoned everything and run off.

And the reason? It seemed to amount to nothing more than her having been suddenly vexed by some offhand remark he had made once before.

If he knew that, he would surely find her petty and unreasonable…

Pu Zhu suddenly felt a pang of unease, growing more and more restless, longing for nothing more than to sprout wings and fly back at once.

The dinner was drawing to a close. Shuang Shi noticed that she had gradually taken on a somewhat distracted air, and assumed she was tired from the long ride. She asked with concern whether, if Pu Zhu was exhausted, she should send her off to rest.

Pu Zhu came back to herself, and in her heart quickly made a decision.

She wanted to go back — back to the Protectorate, to wait for him. She did not want to miss a single evening.

She hastily declined with thanks. “I am grateful for your generous hospitality, Madam, but I should be heading back today.”

Shuang Shi was surprised. “You come so rarely — why are you in such a hurry? Why go back in the middle of the night?”

Pu Zhu explained, “Today I came simply to see you and to thank you — I have fulfilled that wish, and it is time I returned. On the Protectorate’s side, with him away, if I am also gone, I worry there might be inconvenience should something arise. And the road between here and there is not all that far. It is still early enough now; returning will be no problem. In a few days, when His Highness is back, I will come again with him to trouble you properly.”

Shuang Shi was reluctant to let her go and pressed her to stay. Seeing that Pu Zhu would not relent, and feeling puzzled, she dismissed all the attendants nearby and asked quietly, “Zhuzhu, what is the matter? It may not be very far between the two, but it is not close either. All of a sudden, why must you leave in the middle of the night? If there is some difficulty, you can tell me freely.”

Pu Zhu felt somewhat embarrassed. Meeting Shuang Shi’s gaze of earnest concern, she finally said haltingly that she was worried that if Li Xuandu came back early and she was not at the Protectorate, it would be inconvenient. When she finished, her face flushed crimson and she dropped her gaze, not daring to look up.

Shuang Shi was taken aback, and then she understood.

She had been young herself once — how could she not know that feeling of single-minded waiting, terrified of missing even a moment?

She gave a helpless smile. In her heart she knew that even if she tried to keep this young woman by force, she would likely lie awake all night in torment — so it would be better to let her go without fuss. The road might be tiring, but Pu Zhu herself would surely find it sweet. She gave up pressing her to stay. “Very well then — since that’s how it is, I won’t keep you.”

“Perhaps Prince Qin will return tonight?” she added at last with a mischievous smile.

Pu Zhu’s face grew even hotter, and she felt rather embarrassed, apologizing and thanking Shuang Shi over and over. They agreed that she would come again with Li Xuandu next time to pay their respects properly, and at last she was seen out.

Shuang Shi arranged a separate escort to accompany her back to the city.

That spring night, the moon shone white and the breeze was gentle — everything was beautiful.

Pu Zhu rode at a gallop on her return journey, her mood light, even a little buoyant — completely different from when she had come earlier that day.

Today was the happy day for Ye Xiao and his wife; she ought to bless them sincerely and be glad for them.

On such a wonderful day, why had she needed to torment herself over some thoughtless remark Li Xuandu had made in passing long ago?

Perhaps he had long since forgotten he had ever said it.

He had won a great victory in the campaign — he would be coming home safe and sound soon. Was that not the best and most eagerly awaited thing of all?

Before he noticed she had left, she should hurry back, so that she could go out and meet him the moment he returned. That was what she most needed to do right now.

She pressed the heel of her boot gently against her red horse to urge it faster, and when she had covered about half the distance and crested a ridge flanked on both sides by woodland, she suddenly spotted a lone rider in the distance on the road coming from the direction of Shuang City.

The distance was still considerable — at least an arrow’s flight away — but the moonlight tonight was brilliantly clear, and from far off she recognized the silhouette almost immediately.

That familiar outline…

Was that Li Xuandu?

At first she thought she must be mistaken, and could scarcely believe it.

Had he not been expected back in a few days? How could he possibly appear now, halfway along the road to the estate?

She reined in her horse at once and halted on the ridge, studying him for several more moments.

The lone rider gradually drew closer to the ridge and became clearer and clearer. In the moonlight, the silver saddle gleamed in perfect harmony with the armor on the rider’s back; from a distance, he charged like the wind — swift and brilliant as a shooting star.

It was him. He had truly come back this quickly!

To judge by his manner, could it be that he had returned to find her gone, and then ridden through the night to find her at the estate?

Pu Zhu was instantly overwhelmed by a profound sense of happiness. She was just about to urge her horse forward to meet him when a sudden impulse came to her: she wanted to give him a surprise. She quickly signaled to the escort riders behind her to scatter and conceal themselves, then tied her own horse behind a thicket of trees by the roadside. She borrowed a bow from one of her attendants, snapped off the arrowhead, nocked the blunt shaft, and waited for him to crest the ridge and pass in front of her — then loosed an arrow at his back. But the force was too weak to overcome the momentum of his riding horse; the shaft seemed to barely graze his back before its power was spent and it fell to the ground. He remained completely unaware of it, galloping straight on, and disappeared down the slope in an instant.

Pu Zhu was dumbfounded. She rushed out from her hiding place, chased to where he had just passed, and peered ahead.

The moonlight washed everything clean and still; below the ridge lay only a silent spread of tree shadows. His figure had already vanished from sight.

On instinct she ran forward a short distance, calling out twice, but heard no reply. He must have ridden too far ahead. She was immediately vexed and stamped her foot, then quickly turned and ran back to where she had hidden, called for her red horse, and was just about to swing up into the saddle to give chase, when a voice behind her said, “Are you trying to murder your own husband?”

She spun around. A man stood at the spot where the blunted arrow had landed, looking at her with a half-smile. His brows were sword-sharp, his eyes clear and fine; his silhouette was slender in the moonlight. Seeing that she had turned, he raised the arrow shaft he held in his hand and waggled it at her twice.

Pu Zhu could no longer contain herself. She let out a short, sharp cry of joy, and, heedless of the escort riders watching from behind, broke into a run toward him and flung herself into his arms.

Li Xuandu was evidently very pleased with her reaction. He gave a hearty laugh, tossed away the arrow shaft in his hand, closed his arms, and pulled her close.

After a long while, Pu Zhu lifted her head from his embrace and scolded him. “Just now, you tricked me!”

Li Xuandu gave a slight huff. “I haven’t even asked you yet — why did you leave without waiting for me to return?”

Pu Zhu felt a flicker of guilt, then pouted prettily. “Did I not come back through the night? I came back for you! If I hadn’t, how would you have run into me here?”

Li Xuandu looked at her sideways.

In the moonlight, the beauty before him was as radiant as jade, her lovely face wearing a charming pout. As he looked at her, something slowly spread through his heart — like the warmth of spring sunshine gently melting away ice and snow. The corner of his lips at last curved slightly upward. “At least you have some conscience,” he said.

Pu Zhu let out a breath of relief. She glanced back at the escort riders standing stiff as wooden posts not far behind her, and said quietly, “Shall we go back?”

He made a sound of assent.

She turned to summon her horse, when her hand suddenly warmed — he had taken hold of it.

He led her to his horse, lifted her up onto it, then mounted behind her, called out to the others behind them, and spurred the horse forward.

The hoofbeats carried them through moonlight and brought them back to Shuang City. That night passed in endless gentle tenderness; later, utterly exhausted, Pu Zhu fell into a deep sleep in his arms.

Late in the night — she could not tell the hour — she roused to a half-waking state and sensed that he was no longer beside her.

She jolted fully awake.

The pillow beside her was empty; there was no sign of him in the room.

Where had he gone?

Her drowsiness vanished at once.

Her first instinct was a stab of anxiety. Then she thought, and recalled a certain place, and quickly wrapped herself in a robe and went out, crossing through the courtyard and making her way to the clifftop behind the fortified house. There she found him, just as she had thought.

The night wind was strong. Dressed in a loose robe, he sat facing the Gobi on a large rock at the cliff’s edge, a wine jug in hand, drinking alone.

One could not tell how long he had already been there.

Pu Zhu did not know why he had come here alone in the depths of the night to drink.

She remembered certain things from the past, and slowly came to a stop, gazing at his back, momentarily unsure whether she dared draw near. Just as she hesitated, wondering whether she should approach, she suddenly saw him turn his head and beckon her with one hand. The profile of his face in the moonlight was calm, and seemed, if anything, to carry a touch of ease.

Her heart settled at once. She let out a quiet breath, walked over to his side, saw him pat the empty space before him, and sat down beside him — then leaned naturally into his arms, still a little tentative, tilting her face up to ask softly, “What is wrong? Why are you not sleeping? Why have you come out here alone to drink?”

Li Xuandu set down the wine jug and drew back his outer robe to wrap it completely around her, shielding her from the wind. Then he smiled. “I am in good spirits, and woke up suddenly wanting a drink. You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I came here on my own.”

Pu Zhu finally relaxed entirely. Nestled inside the wide robe that now enclosed them both, pressed close against his chest, she quietly breathed in the faint scent of wine on his breath that she found, for reasons she could not quite name, so very familiar — and felt the warmth of his body. She suddenly felt him bow his head, and on instinct he seemed to inhale near her hair, then paused. “Why is it no longer the same scent as before?”

“Didn’t you dislike my old fragrance? I changed it long ago — and you only noticed now?”

Li Xuandu let out a sound and fell silent.

“Do you find this one pleasant?”

She was not the least bit annoyed; she only pressed him eagerly.

Li Xuandu finally replied, “When did I ever say I disliked your old fragrance?”

Pu Zhu pursed her lips. “You never said so outright. But I could tell — you were clearly put off by it before!”

Li Xuandu gave a helpless laugh, and breathed in the scent of her hair again. “This one is also pleasant. But I am still more used to the one you had before…”

“It was something A’mu made for me from apricot blossoms! Do you truly like it?”

Li Xuandu looked into her eyes — those beautiful eyes that seemed to reflect the starlight — and said with certainty, “Yes. I do.”

“How wonderful! I like that fragrance best too! In a little while, the apricot flowers will be blooming again. I’ll ask A’mu to make it for me again!”

Li Xuandu watched her, bright and animated as a child in her excitement, and smiled as well, giving a nod.

Pu Zhu let out a contented sigh and lay in his arms, gazing up at the brilliant night sky overhead — a sky so densely scattered with starlight, gleaming like blue gemstones, so deep it seemed it could swallow one’s very soul. She heard him ask softly whether she was cold and whether she wanted to go back in to sleep, and quickly shook her head, reaching out to wrap her arms firmly around his waist.

On a night this beautiful, how could one bear to waste it sleeping?

He smiled, pulled the robe wrapped around her a little higher, and said nothing more, holding her quietly.

A moment later, she noticed his gaze seemed to drift toward some far point beyond the Gobi, as though he were lost in thought. She could not help but grow curious again.

“Your Highness, what are you thinking about?”

Li Xuandu brought his gaze back and looked down at her as she lay in his arms for a moment, then said in an unhurried tone, “I was thinking… why Ye Xiao was able to become a father before me.”

Looking at his expression just now, it was impossible that this was what he had been thinking.

Though she knew perfectly well he was not telling the truth — or that he was teasing her — her heart still could not help but give a small leap. Playing along with his words, she feigned innocence. “Why?”

“Because every time there is a battle, or an expedition — it is always my task. He always stays behind! From now on I am going nowhere. If anything comes up, I will send him. I want to…”

He stopped abruptly.

Pu Zhu urged him on. “You want to do what?”

He still would not say. She refused to give in, and only then did he lower his head, lean close to her ear, and murmur something in his low, faintly alluring voice — a sentence that made her cover her face and then break into helpless laughter despite herself.

He too chuckled softly in return, and after laughing for a moment, he pointed in the direction of the far end of the Gobi. “Beyond there — keep going, all the way to the end — do you know where you would arrive?”

Pu Zhu had not immediately caught his meaning, but at his prompt she understood. “The capital.”

He nodded.

“Yes. The capital. In truth, tonight, I had a dream — I dreamed again of some things from my past…”

Pu Zhu startled, and her smile slowly faded. She looked at him with a trace of anxiety.

He seemed to sense her emotion, and reached under the robe to find her hand, closing his own around it. He continued, “Strangely enough, in the past, whenever I dreamed of those things, I would wake with a heavy, oppressive feeling. Now, not only has it been a long time since such dreams came — when I woke from this one just now, I found I did not feel as pained as I once did.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” He seemed to recall something, his voice turning lighter.

“Even my condition of recurrent fever — since I came to the western regions, it seems not to have flared up again.”

Pu Zhu let out a slow breath. She pressed her face against his chest and said softly, “This must be a blessed land for Your Highness.”

He smiled. “You may well be right — I should have come long ago. I also just remembered something from the past. You once asked Luo Bao about what my Crown Prince imperial brother did to me, and at the time I would not allow Luo Bao to tell you…”

Pu Zhu immediately recalled what had happened that night long ago in Que Kingdom.

Yes — back then, he had not only forbidden Luo Bao from speaking, he had also rebuked her sharply for asking, and afterward she had never dared raise the subject again.

He paused slightly. “If you still wish to know, I will tell you myself.”

Pu Zhu immediately nodded, her eyes wide and intent upon him.

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “On that day, my Crown Prince imperial brother, under the pretext of seeing me off, had me drink drugged wine. He then stole my seal of authority, rendering the entire Yingyang Guard as good as nonexistent, so that the rebel forces were able to breach the palace walls…”

Pu Zhu held her breath.

“In the end, he still failed. Yet how could he not have known what charges awaited me? I knew he had difficulties he could not speak of, but if he had retained even half the fraternal feeling of brothers who had grown up together from childhood — after his failure, he could have spoken up for me at the very least. At the time, our father the Emperor did give him that opportunity. But my Crown Prince imperial brother — even to the very last moment before he took his own life — chose silence. And so I was convicted as an accomplice, with no way to prove my innocence.”

That nightmare which had once clung to him, refusing to be shaken off — now he could speak of it with such stillness.

“That was what happened at the time. Looking back now, I can understand it all, in a way. But I could never let it go before. Was I not terribly foolish?”

Pu Zhu gazed at Li Xuandu’s face, which looked utterly calm in that moment. She pressed back the tumult surging in her heart, shook her head, and said, word by word, “No. You were not foolish. You only cared too deeply.”

He smiled, and gazed at her for a long moment, then said slowly, “Zhuzhu, I find myself suddenly thinking it strange — how it is that you and I came to be husband and wife. I remember that when I first encountered you in He Xi, you had your heart set on pursuing the Crown Prince…”

He seemed to catch himself abruptly and correct course. “Zhuzhu, do not misunderstand — I meant nothing by it. I know all of that is in the past…”

Perhaps it was the intoxicating quality of the night, or perhaps the man beside her was simply too captivating — Pu Zhu was suddenly seized by an impulse, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Your Highness, do you know? I remember a past life! In my past life, I saved you — and in this life, you married me to repay the debt!”

Her tone was utterly solemn.

But Li Xuandu was amused by her earnest manner, and laughed softly. Between chuckles, he said, “Is that so? From the sound of it, in your past life I did not marry you to repay the debt — so it was carried over to this life? Then who did you marry in your past life?”

For some reason, hearing him refer to that past life — so distant, yet for her, ever-present — in such a teasing tone, her eyes suddenly grew faintly warm.

She regretted her loose tongue. She composed herself, pushed back the stinging warmth threatening to spill from her eyes, and matched his playful tone with a smile. “In my past life, of course I married someone else, and married very well indeed.”

He seemed to grow intrigued, and shook his head with an exaggerated sigh, clicking his tongue in a show of sympathy. “Such a beauty, and with the added grace of having saved my life — and I let her slip away to marry someone else. What a terrible waste! And what happened after that?”

Afterward, I suffered misfortune, and you came back. I waited for you in the Temple of Eternal Life at the imperial mausoleum, hoping you would come to rescue me — but you did not come.

And then I died, and you became the Emperor, and married the cousin you had long admired — the one deemed truly worthy of you.

The stinging warmth behind her eyes was growing nearly impossible to contain.

She bowed her head to hide it. “After that —” she dropped her lashes with a smile, her voice growing ever more brightly cheerful as she said, “I fell into hardship, and you came back, and of course you rescued me from danger.”

Li Xuandu could no longer hold himself back, and burst into laughter. “That is better. Zhuzhu, this story of yours is quite good — I like it very much.”

She buried her face against his chest.

“As long as Your Highness likes it…”

Her voice still carried a trace of laughter, yet it was muffled and murmuring, and its trailing edge trembled faintly.

Li Xuandu finally sensed that something seemed off about her. He stopped laughing, lowered his head, and watched the way she lay against him, motionless. He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Zhuzhu, what is wrong? Are you crying?”

“No!”

“Then raise your head.”

She did not.

Li Xuandu felt increasingly sure something was not right with her. He reached to lift her face himself, but she would not let him. He coaxed her gently, and just then, the sound of footsteps came from behind.

Li Xuandu stopped and turned his head.

Nanny Wang, roused from sleep by someone just now, came shuffling and rubbing her eyes in their direction. She finally spotted Prince Qin and his Princess Consort, and quickly hurried forward. “Your Highness, there is someone outside who came in the night with a message. He says he is from Que Kingdom and has urgent business for Your Highness!”

Pu Zhu heard every word clearly from his arms, and started. She quickly wiped her eyes and lifted her head.

Li Xuandu glanced down at her, reached out, and ran his hand along the length of her hair as it fell down her back. He leaned close to her ear and said quietly, “Let us go and see” — then held her as they stepped down from the rock and walked swiftly back.