The dark encampment greeted yet another dawn.

Beneath a sky the deep bruised blue-black of clotted blood, threads of gold light began to seep through — barely visible at first, then growing bolder. The blue-black and the gilded gold stood in opposition, tearing at each other, refusing to yield a single inch.

Inside a tent where candlelight still burned, only a third of the candle remained. White wax tears had piled into a jagged little mountain on the candlestick. A faint breeze slipped through the gap in the door curtain, and the frail flame shuddered — then went out.

Fu Xuanmiao had been sitting at the table with his head propped on one hand, eyes closed, seemingly lost in quiet sleep. At the moment the flame died, his eyes opened in an instant. Those eyes — still as the sea, deep as a fathomless pool — were calm and alert, not the least bit clouded. His gaze lingered for a moment on the swaying door curtain, then shifted to the extinguished candle. Slowly, he rose from the round stool.

He walked to the gauze cabinet in the corner of the tent and had just reached for the fire-starter when the sound of the cabinet opening seemed to rouse Fang Shi from the unrelenting nightmares that had tormented her all night. She let out a sharp, grief-stricken cry and lurched upright, gasping for breath, her face pale with terror.

“Mother, you had a nightmare.” Fu Xuanmiao set down the fire-starter and turned back to Fang Shi’s bedside. He sat at the foot of the bed and said softly, “It was only a dream.”

The room was dark without a lit lamp, the light murky and indistinct.

To Fang Shi, what appeared in her field of vision was nothing more than a dark grey shape emerging from the deep black. In that moment, an absurd doubt surfaced within her — was this truly the son she had borne? Or was he merely a patch of grey-black within the darkness?

How else could he have done such wicked things? How could it have happened that — how could it have come to pass, through some cruel twist of fate, that he had once again killed someone dear to him?

In Fu Xuanmiao’s presence, Fang Shi’s terror broke through her resentment for the first time. She wept in the darkness, trembling, and found his cold hand by feel. She could no longer pretend to be indifferent, could no longer feign unconcern. She pleaded with desperate sorrow:

“Chan Yu… Chan Yu…”

A flicker of surprise crossed Fu Xuanmiao’s face and vanished.

“Mother, your son is here.”

“Stop…” Fang Shi said. “Mother is begging you — stop. Do not keep going further down this path of wrongs…”

“Mother…”

“Mother is begging you…” Fang Shi grabbed his hand and rose to kneel upright on the bed, tears streaming down her face. “Resign your post and come home…”

“Mother! What are you doing!”

Fu Xuanmiao’s expression changed. He moved to help her up, but she was fixed in her kneeling position and would not budge. He stepped back from the foot of the bed and knelt instead on the footstool below it.

“You resign your post, come home, give away all your wealth, and from this day forth live in seclusion — sincerely atoning for the wrongs of the past. Mother will stay by your side… Mother will share whatever little food there is with you, Mother will chant sutras with you every day… Chan Yu…” Fang Shi clutched his cold hand, sobbing too hard to speak clearly. “Mother is begging you — for Mother’s sake, please stop…”

“Mother…” Fu Xuanmiao said, “Please forgive your son for being unable to comply.”

Fang Shi looked up in stunned disbelief, her tear-streaked face fixed on Fu Xuanmiao’s calm expression.

“Your son is now a thorn in His Majesty’s side. If I were to resign and go home, I would likely die under mysterious circumstances on the road before I even reached it. And even if His Majesty showed mercy out of regard for Father and let me go free, there are countless people both inside and outside the court who are waiting for me to relinquish power so they can kick me when I am down. At that point, my death would be a small matter — but what would become of Mother, all alone? The Fang family has always been timid; fearing trouble, they would certainly not take Mother in. Other than Fang Shi, who could Mother depend on? Not only can Mother not depend on others — Mother cannot even depend on herself.” He looked at Fang Shi’s eyes, luminous with unshed tears. “Mother cannot depend on herself.”

“You are so clever — you have always been a step ahead of others since childhood. You must be able to think of a way to keep everyone safe, yes?” Fang Shi implored.

“Mother,” Fu Xuanmiao said evenly, “you are too naive.”

“You will think of something… think again…” Fang Shi wept and pleaded.

“Mother, your son cannot retreat.” Fu Xuanmiao looked at Fang Shi without the slightest yielding. “One step back, and it is a ten-thousand-foot abyss. Would Mother truly watch her son be ground to dust — for the sake of those who are already dead?”

Fang Shi cried until she had no strength left. The hand gripping Fu Xuanmiao’s arm gradually loosened.

Fang Shi buried her face between her drawn-up knees. Atop her head, a strand of grey-white hair cast a faint gleam in the dim light.

Fu Xuanmiao looked at that strand of white hair, and his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He reached out and moved the black hair over to cover it, then said gently: “Mother, do not grieve. Everything is within Chan Yu’s control. Mother only needs to rest and take care of herself. Whatever Mother wants, whatever Mother wishes to do — Chan Yu will take care of it.”

Fu Xuanmiao rose from the bedside and walked toward the door curtain, intending to call a maidservant in to help Fang Shi wash her face. A faint voice stopped him in his tracks.

“…Everything within your control?” Fang Shi lifted her face — streaked with tears, expression twisted in anguish. “The Princess of Yue, wandering among common people, married to another man — is that also within your control?”

Fu Xuanmiao’s expression went cold in an instant.

“…Mother.” His voice was quiet and low.

Fang Shi ignored his warning and continued: “The Princess of Yue now hates you to the bone. She would sooner remain a widow than remarry you, the great and celebrated finest gentleman under heaven — is that also within your control?”

Fu Xuanmiao’s face went completely dark. A flicker of fury broke through layer upon layer of restraint and rose to the surface of that face which was always an undisturbed calm.

“Ning Yu!” he said, in a low, deep voice entirely unlike his usual tone.

A moment later, a flustered figure came rushing in.

“This servant is here!”

“Madam has just been startled out of a nightmare and is still not quite herself. You should—”

Before Fu Xuanmiao could finish speaking, Fang Shi suddenly yanked the silver hairpin from her hair and pointed its tip at her own throat.

“If you still recognize me as your mother, then give up with a dead heart everything that does not belong to you — otherwise, come collect my body!”

“Mother!” Fu Xuanmiao said, his face ashen. “Stop this nonsense—”

“If you think I am being nonsensical—” Fang Shi said through gritted teeth. The tip of the silver hairpin suddenly pressed into her pale throat. A single bead of crimson blood welled up — shockingly vivid in the dim light.

“Mother!”

Fu Xuanmiao’s expression changed drastically. He had just stepped forward when the hysterical Fang Shi shouted him back:

“Stay away!”

“Mother…” Fu Xuanmiao said. “Why must you put yourself through this?!”

“Why must I? ” Fang Shi let out a bitter, broken smile. “If I am made to go on watching you commit wrong after wrong, I would rather die here and now!”

“Mother!” Fu Xuanmiao stood rigid, his gaze heavy with suppressed anger as he looked at Fang Shi on the bed. “Your son has already said — having come this far, there is no retreating. One step back is a ten-thousand-foot abyss. Would Mother truly watch your son—”

“I will die with you!” Fang Shi sobbed with all the force of her voice. Her trembling hand clutched the silver hairpin; the bright red blood dripped one drop at a time onto the clean bedding as she shook. She wept, saying word by word: “If you are ground to dust, then I will be ground to dust with you!”

Fang Shi’s grief-stricken cry struck like a heavy hammer against Fu Xuanmiao’s chest.

She collapsed forward onto the bed, her body curled in on itself, the jut of her spine visible through her inner garment. With her head bowed entirely, even more white hair was revealed.

Fu Xuanmiao was stunned. The controlled cold fury in his eyes seemed to falter — and for a moment, it weakened.

In the corner of the tent, Ning Yu knelt in terror, having heard far too much that was not meant for her ears, not daring to breathe too deeply.

“Mother…” Fu Xuanmiao was silent for a moment. “If Mother insists on this, then your son agrees.”

Fang Shi’s sobbing stopped short. She snapped her head up and stared at Fu Xuanmiao in disbelief. A burst of joy — so sudden it eclipsed the light in her pupils — blazed in her eyes.

“…Truly?”

“Truly.” Fu Xuanmiao said. “I will resign my post and go home. I will give away all my wealth. We, mother and son, will retreat to the mountains and forests, eat plain food and chant sutras every day, and from this moment on, turn our backs on the affairs of the world.”

Fang Shi stared blankly at Fu Xuanmiao. Then her tears came even harder.

Fu Xuanmiao walked slowly toward her and knelt at the side of her bed. He stilled her feeble resistance and took the silver hairpin from her hand.

“…You truly promised me?” Fang Shi asked once more to be sure.

“I promised.” Fu Xuanmiao affirmed.

Only then did the last thread of strength in Fang Shi’s hand fully release, allowing Fu Xuanmiao to take away the hairpin.

Fu Xuanmiao glanced at the hairpin, then at the bloodstain on Fang Shi’s neck.

“Chan…”

Fang Shi had just opened her mouth when a sudden sharp pain struck the back of her neck. Darkness flooded her vision, and in an instant she lost consciousness.

Fu Xuanmiao caught Fang Shi’s limp body and gently laid her flat. He stood, holding the blood-stained silver hairpin, and turned his icy gaze toward Ning Yu, who was kneeling on the ground, trembling.

“Madam’s spirits are weak. From this day on, I do not wish to see any sharp objects near her. Her eating utensils are all to be changed to gold and silverware. If there is any further mishap… Ning Yu, I will hold you accountable.”

“Ning Yu obeys…” Ning Yu immediately kowtowed.

Fu Xuanmiao tightened his grip on the silver hairpin and cast one last look at Fang Shi lying on the bed. His expression was complicated. He turned and walked out of the tent.

Dawn had fully arrived.

The blazing golden orb had risen completely from the earth, and the entire encampment was bathed in an eerie, splendid light of daybreak.

The magnificent morning sun illuminated the whole camp — yet it seemed to have forgotten, deliberately, the shadow beneath Fu Xuanmiao’s feet.

He wore a long robe of pale blue-green, the wide sleeves hanging in soft folds. His bearing was cool and detached, as though he did not belong to the world around him — as though the piercing morning sun could not touch him at all. He gazed straight ahead at the sun rising out of the east.

“…Long gone.”

A murmur, soft as mist, passed his lips and dissolved instantly into the air, leaving no trace.

He turned and walked away, carrying his shadow with him.

From that day on, not even a shard of broken porcelain was to be found near Fang Shi.

And yet, a person determined to die will always find a way.

Fang Shi stopped eating. Even the little that was forced down would be vomited back up afterward. Already frail and sickly, she deteriorated rapidly. Imperial Physicians hurried in and out of her tent on multiple occasions, medicine cases in hand, and no matter how much Fu Xuanmiao tried to keep it concealed, rumors of Fang Shi’s refusal to eat still began to drift through the camp.

Shen Zhuxi heard the news. After much deliberation, she finally made a request to Fu Xuanmiao — she wished to visit Fang Shi.

“I bear some responsibility for Fang Shi’s condition… At the time, my words were too harsh. A wound of the heart needs a cure of the heart. Perhaps if I go to see her, it might ease her mind somewhat.”

This carefully considered argument passed Fu Xuanmiao’s scrutiny.

He made no delay. Within an hour, Shen Zhuxi was brought to see Fang Shi, who was half-reclining on the bed. Her face was gaunt and entirely devoid of color. Those eyes, nearly blind, were lightly closed — she appeared utterly indifferent to the outside world. A personal maidservant at the bedside was trying to feed her porridge with a silver spoon, but the thin gruel seeped out from between her tightly shut lips. Ning Yu hurried to wipe it away, her expression helpless.

“…Let me do it.” Shen Zhuxi said.

Ning Yu’s face showed surprise. Only after Shen Zhuxi offered a second time did she hesitantly pass the bowl over.

Shen Zhuxi sat down beside the bed and lifted the spoon of thin porridge toward Fang Shi’s lips, tentatively trying to bring it forward. The Fang Shi who had not moved a muscle suddenly gripped Shen Zhuxi’s arm with fierce strength.

“…It’s me.” Shen Zhuxi made her voice as gentle as she could. “Do not be afraid.”

The grip on her arm gradually loosened.

Only then did Shen Zhuxi continue to bring the spoon to her lips. She had already braced for refusal — so she was completely unprepared for what happened. Fang Shi’s lips parted, just the slightest crack, allowing her to slip the porridge inside.

A flicker of astonishment crossed Shen Zhuxi’s face.

“Madam finally ate something!” Ning Yu could not help but say with delight. “Your Highness, please feed her a couple more spoonfuls!”

Shen Zhuxi seemed to come back to herself. She continued to spoon the porridge and feed it to her.

Fang Shi lay with eyes tightly closed, not saying a word. Like a puppet without life — passively accepting her ministrations.

But just a moment ago, Shen Zhuxi had distinctly seen her open those swollen, red-rimmed eyes and fix them on her in an unwavering gaze.

Her lips had moved without sound, saying:

“The token to leave — it is on you.”