Before dawn, the wind picked up suddenly, and lightning split the black clouds across the sky.
Rain poured down in a torrent. Muffled thunder rolled and rolled.
A sudden, violent rainstorm descended without warning, smothering the entire city of Huizhou in a darkness that could not tell day from night.
No one paid any heed to the howling wind. No one paid any heed to the thunderclaps booming one after another.
The sound of the wind, the rain, and the thunder — all of it was swallowed up by the savage noise of killing below the city walls.
Prince Jiangning’s thirty-thousand-strong vanguard seized the hour just before dawn, drove across the Long River, and stormed ashore in the night to launch a fierce assault on Luling Pass.
Dozens of massive tower ships, each several zhang tall, each carrying a number of smaller escort vessels — linked together by iron chains stretched across their hulls — formed what looked for all the world like a wall of copper and iron.
Five-colored war banners snapped in the wind. War drums beat and bronze gongs rang. Riding the force of the wind and crashing through surging waves, the fleet came storming in from the river in one vast, mighty surge.
The battle drums and war horns sounded one after another, each wave more urgent than the last, each peal louder than the one before. The thunderous war cries and the crash of steel on steel intertwined, impossible to tell apart. Outside Luling Pass, scaling ladders rose in dense rows, boulders flew like a swarm of locusts, and the relentless tide of attacking infantry kept streaming forward without end.
The rain came hammering down, faster and harder. The wind and rain seemed to carry within them a faint metallic tang of blood, battering fiercely against the walls of Huizhou.
I followed Xiao Qi to the top of the highest tower, where the full horror of the fighting along the riverbank and outside Luling Pass lay before our eyes.
One officer, his battle robes drenched in blood, came galloping through the rain to deliver a report. “Your Highness the Prince, the enemy’s assault is ferociously strong — our forces have already been pushed back to just below Luling Pass!”
Xiao Qi turned and sat down in the qilin chair, and asked in a cold, unhurried voice, “What is the situation on the river?”
“The full vanguard has come ashore. The main force has begun crossing the river.”
“Wait.” Xiao Qi’s face was still as deep water, completely unruffled.
A short while later, another rider arrived at full gallop.
“Your Highness, the enemy has crossed more than half the river.”
“Wait longer.” Xiao Qi’s expression did not change. A flash of amusement passed through his eyes, and a profound killing intent emanated from his person.
I sat solemnly at his side. Though it was the height of early summer, it felt as though we were set deep in the heart of winter. The whole world was saturated with a cold and deadly air that seeped to the marrow.
I picked up the wine decanter on the table and poured the rich wine into the tiger-patterned green jade cup before me. Before it was full, another rider burst in.
“Your Highness, the enemy’s assault is swift and fierce — the full army has come ashore. General Hu Guanglie has led his forces in a retreat into Luling Pass!”
Xiao Qi raised his eyes slightly. At that very moment, a bolt of lightning split the sky — and in its flash, the cold light in his eyes was colder than snow. “Order the left and right flanks — cut off the army that has come ashore, and seize the ships to counter-attack!”
The man took the order and mounted his horse, riding off at full speed.
Xiao Qi pressed his sword and rose. “Order the rear reinforcements — retake Luling Pass and exterminate the forces that have entered the city!”
“This subordinate obeys!” One general received the order and departed.
The commanders at his left and right stood at attention with hands on their swords, their armor and blades glinting with a cold and snowy light — all of them barely containing their eagerness to charge into battle.
Xiao Qi raised the cup and drained it in one draught, then hurled the cup to the ground. “Bring my horse — to battle!”
I stood in silence on the city wall, watching until Xiao Qi’s wind-tossed figure vanished into the distance.
That bitter battle raged on until the rain had stopped and the wind had died, until the clouds had parted and the mist had cleared and the red sun climbed steadily upward… until dusk, with the last traces of sunlight red as blood.
The troops of the left and right flanks, with the force of ten thousand tons of thunder, surged down from both sides of the hills beyond the city walls and swept into the army of Prince Jiangning’s forces that had just come ashore. They drove through in all directions with a momentum too fierce to withstand, and before the enemy forces had found their footing, cut them down in a slaughter that left corpses strewn across the ground in an endless wail of agony. Three thousand crossbow soldiers lay in ambush on the flanks and targeted specifically the helmsmen and oarsmen manning the tower ships, throwing the ships out of control and unable to turn back. The river-crossing forces fell into chaos at the beachhead, neither able to push forward nor retreat. The large and small vessels, all linked together with iron chains, collided and rammed each other in the crush of those trying to break free. Soldiers plunged into the water by the dozens, cut down by iron cavalry trampling the shore, and shot down by powerful crossbows the moment they tried to land… In an instant, screams of battle filled the wilderness, blood ran and oars floated, and the river water along the bank was stained a deep crimson.
The vanguard forces that had managed to break through and enter Luling Pass were blocked outside the inner city wall, unable to force their way in. Their reinforcements had been cut off behind them, and they were now isolated with no support.
Hu Guanglie’s forces, who had withdrawn inside the pass, joined up with the rear reinforcement army personally led by Xiao Qi and turned to fight their way back out. Hu Guanglie charged at the head of the army, his long saber sweeping through the air in a howling arc, cutting down one enemy commander after another in his path, and none that he passed could stand against him.
Prince Jiangning had led his troops for many years, and his forces beneath him were fierce and brave. Seeing that they had fallen into an ambush and suffered a grave setback, they still fought back to the death, refusing to abandon the battle.
Then the war drums on the enemy’s main vessel thundered like the sky itself, and it was Prince Jiangning himself who had climbed onto the prow of the ship to beat the drums and rally the troops in person. One gold-armored general in the front ranks swung a giant battleaxe with unstoppable ferocity, hewed a bloody path through the chaos, and led the trapped soldiers in a desperate turning charge toward the shore and their battle vessels.
In an instant the enemy’s morale surged high, and they fought with the strength of condemned men, battling back with a force that threatened to sweep all before them once again.
Then a single rider surged forward to meet them at the front — a white horse with red plumes, silver armor bright as snow. It was Song Huai’an, raising his jade-dark spear, a sweep that seemed to level a thousand men, charging head-on into battle against that gold-armored fierce general. On the ship’s prow, the battle drums shook the clouds, as Prince Jiangning pushed his forces harder and harder.
I watched from the city wall, and felt cold to the very marrow of my soul. The blood and wind before my eyes, the roar of killing filling the sky, was as though I had been set down in the middle of a hellish realm.
Suddenly a low, resonant horn blast rang out, and the city gate swung open wide. Flags and banners snapping in the wind — one command flag raised high in the center.
Xiao Qi stood his horse below the walls, gazing across the distance at Prince Jiangning on the ship’s prow. The long sword in his hand was icy cold and bright, pointing straight to the southern bank.
Where the sword point aimed, his horse reared in fury. To his left and right, voices rose together, “Prince Yuzhang strikes against the rebels — those who submit live; those who resist perish —”
Our forces erupted in jubilation. Spears and halberds raised high, they raised a great chorus of battle cries.
Prince Yuzhang’s command flag unfurled. Xiao Qi spurred his horse forward, and the personal guard cavalry behind him, each one armored in heavy shields and full battle armor, followed him pressing toward the enemy’s front. The unified stamp of their boots — each footfall like an iron wall moving across the earth — and the cold gleam of spears and halberds cut across the grey and dim light of wind and rain.
The enemy forces in the front ranks immediately lost their momentum. Prince Jiangning’s war drums faltered for a moment before resuming their beat. On the tower ships and warships, archers and crossbow soldiers all aimed in the direction of the command flag, and the arrows fell like rain — a thick downpour that hammered down onto the heavy iron shields.
From the city wall I looked down over everything. The full scene lay spread before me. My heart had been so shaken it had gone numb, and I felt as though I were caught in a pounding tide, carried up to the clouds one moment and plunged into the abyss the next with every turn of the battle below.
Then I heard several squads of soldiers on Prince Jiangning’s flagship raise their voices in a clamor of taunts, cursing Xiao Qi in a torrent of abuse — accusing him of rebellion against the throne — their words audible even over the beating of the drums, sharp and piercing to the ear. The enemy forces at the front were retreating step by step, and yet they fought on with fierce tenacity and refused to break. In the midst of this deadlock, Xiao Qi and his personal guard cavalry had already, under a sustained barrage of arrows, pressed close to the enemy’s front lines.
Then came a brief lull in the arrow barrage — in the split second between one volley ending and the next beginning to fly — Xiao Qi suddenly drew back his bow and notched an arrow. Three arrows flew from the string in rapid succession, one after another, piercing through the air.
Where they struck — three rapid, consecutive thuds — they had not been aimed at the enemy commander in the front ranks at all. Instead, they had struck precisely and squarely through three of the ropes holding the main mast’s sail on the flagship!
Amid the cries of alarm from everyone on the ship’s prow — a single massive, thunderous crash: that sail, weighing hundreds of jin, snapped its cross-beam and came plunging down, smashing straight onto the prow of the ship. Those soldiers who were too slow to escape were either crushed beneath the fallen mast and sail, or tumbled into the river. And the place where the sail fell — was precisely where Prince Jiangning had been beating the drums.
With the battle vessel sustaining this devastating blow and the fleet commander buried beneath splintered wood and broken masts, his fate unknown — the enemy’s troops were all stunned and thrown into disarray. Their front collapsed in an instant. The gold-armored general, locked in a fierce and unresolved struggle with Song Huai’an, was distracted by the sight of this — and in one moment of lost focus, Song Huai’an’s spear came sweeping back in a diagonal thrust, and knocked him from his horse then and there.
Prince Jiangning’s cause was lost. The ten or more intact warships on the river turned their bows about one by one, abandoned the wounded and the remnant soldiers, and drove straight back south in a routed retreat.
At this, the enemy’s army lost all heart, and the will to fight drained out of them entirely.
Someone threw down his weapons and let out a cry, “I surrender to Prince Yuzhang!” In an instant, ten or more among the front ranks rose to echo him, breaking away and running toward our forces. Before the commanding officer had time to stop them, another hundred-odd had cast off their armor and fled, and in the blink of an eye it became a complete rout.
In this one battle, Prince Jiangning’s vanguard was completely annihilated. More than half his forces surrendered to Xiao Qi, and those who resisted to the last were wiped out. The tower ships, which had been built at great cost and effort — with the exception of the main flagship, which had been destroyed — all the remaining ones had been seized by our forces. Without expending a single nail, we had gained an entire fleet of river-crossing vessels. When the time came to let the horses drink from the Long River, it would be as easy as turning one’s hand over.
And yet, when the entire battlefield was searched at the last, Prince Jiangning’s body was nowhere to be found.
It was likely that this crafty old man, seeing how dire the situation had become, had long ago sent a double into the battle in his place, while he himself withdrew to a secondary vessel. Seeing his vanguard in devastating defeat, he immediately abandoned his remaining troops without a second thought and led his forces in a southward retreat.
That evening, Xiao Qi rewarded the three armies, and gathered his officers for a grand celebratory feast at the Governor’s Mansion.
The ten-thousand-strong main army that had followed behind also arrived before midnight. Xiao Qi ordered the three armies to rest and recuperate temporarily, replenish their provisions, and cross the river the next day to continue the southern campaign.
Once the reward ceremony was finished, I pleaded an inability to hold my drink and withdrew from the gathering, leaving Xiao Qi and his brothers-in-arms to spend the time together.
Xiao Qi did not press me to stay, only asked quietly whether I disliked the bluntness of the generals.
I shook my head and smiled gently — iron and blood, wine and blades, were ultimately a man’s domain.
I said, “I have no wish to follow the example of Hua Mulan, or the example of…” That sentence was left unfinished — the last two words froze on my lips.
Hu Guanglie came up to pull Xiao Qi away for a toast, his drunken bearing heartily endearing. Taking advantage of Xiao Qi’s helpless distraction, I quickly took my leave and withdrew.
As I hurried out of the government mansion, my mind was still in a daze, still caught in the shock of a moment ago… Those two words that had almost spilled from my lips had startled even me. When had this bewildering thought surfaced? Lv Zhi — I had almost blurted it out: “I have no wish to follow the example of Hua Mulan, or the example of Lv Zhi!”
My heart churned and swelled with emotion all the way back, and the carriage had already come to a quiet stop before the lodge gate.
Tomorrow morning the great army would set out on the southern campaign. With this departure, the road ahead was unknown, and I did not know when we would return.
I drifted through the deep winding corridors, amid the flourishing shade of flowers and trees, standing in the place where I had once lived alone for three years — and felt as though I were a world away. That little commandery princess who had loved to walk with loosened hair and bare feet, to lie dozing in the dappled shade of blooms, who would speak in quiet soliloquies to the flowers in her idle hours and weep at the rain when sorrowful — she had long since ceased to exist.
I returned to the study, and found myself dimly remembering the sight of Jin’er playing chess with me there… I asked every servant and steward at the lodge and the mansion, and was told only that after I was robbed that time, Jin’er had also vanished without a trace — it was feared she had also met with a terrible fate.
Jin’er — that woman of bright-eyed, charming smiles — had she truly passed from this world just like that, with her beauty gone as a flower fades?
Standing before the mirror table where Jin’er had once styled my hair with her clever hands, I was lost in a daze. I reached out and pressed my palm against the cold surface of the mirror, touching the woman reflected within it — so familiar, and yet so utterly strange, her gaze as it moved holding nothing but endless, quiet coldness.
While on the road to Huizhou, Xiao Qi had received an encoded letter from the capital confirming that my mother had returned to the city. He gave me the short sword he had carried close to him for many years, and from among the best of the women’s intelligence agents, he selected several who were loyal and dependable, to follow at my side in the guise of maids. As for the campaign ahead — fighting on the battlefield, watching hot blood wash white blades, the lamps of a thousand tents burning deep into the night, life and death and victory and defeat — all of it would be shared by two people standing side by side. Neither one would leave alone.
Returning to the government mansion, the officers had all dispersed. I found Pang Gui hurrying to meet me. “Your Highness went out in the night — His Highness the Prince was very worried.”
I smiled faintly. “Has Prince Yuzhang retired for the night?”
Pang Gui said, “After the banquet, His Highness had a slight flush of wine and has returned to his room.”
“You have worked hard for many days. Rest well tonight.” I smiled and nodded, and was just about to step inside, when Pang Gui suddenly came a step closer and said in a lowered voice, “This subordinate has something to report.”
I started, and turned to look at him. I heard Pang Gui say quietly, “While making my night rounds beneath the city walls, this subordinate caught a guard who was concealing a secret letter on his person, sending intelligence about the situation in Huizhou in secret. He is suspected to be a spy dispatched by Prince Jiangning, and has been detained by this subordinate.”
It is common in war for both sides to send spies — there was nothing alarming about that. I furrowed my brow at Pang Gui and said mildly, “Since he is a guard, he should rightly be handed over to General Song for handling. Why have you detained him on your own authority?”
Pang Gui dropped his voice to the very lowest level, hesitated, and said, “This subordinate found that the secret letter bore the seal of the Left Chancellor.”
“What!” I was struck with shock. I quickly looked left and right, and seeing that the attendants were still some distance away, I collected myself and pressed urgently, “Where is this person? Has he confessed anything? How many others know of this?”
Pang Gui lowered his head. “The matter is of great gravity, and this subordinate did not dare let it spread. The person has been confined alone, and no one else is aware. He attempted to take his own life and failed, and has not yet confessed anything.”
My heart steadied slightly. “And the letter?”
Pang Gui drew a bamboo tube from his sleeve and presented it with both hands. The wax seal had already been broken. Inside the tube was a single very thin, rolled piece of paper, densely covered in tiny, fine characters — detailing everything from Wu Qian’s betrayal and execution to the military situation in Huizhou in precise and thorough record. At the end of the letter, a red lacquer seal was clearly visible — my hand gave an involuntary tremor, as though singed by a spark. Without any doubt — this was Father’s seal!
That thin, slight letter, I clutched tighter and tighter, until a cold sweat seeped into my palm.
I immediately brought several of my closest attendants to the study, and ordered Pang Gui to bring the man before me.
By now it was deep in the night, and the study was hushed and still. The guards outside had all been dismissed. Only a single feeble candle flame was burning. The man was brought by Pang Gui himself, bound tightly all over his body, a strip of cloth jammed into his mouth, his eyes watching me with startled uncertainty, unable to make a sound.
I fixed my gaze on him. I saw that his clothing was none other than the colors worn by Xiao Qi’s closest personal guards.
Pang Gui withdrew without a sound, quietly closing the door of the room behind him.
I looked steadily at the man and said slowly, “I am the Commandery Princess Shangyang, daughter of the Left Chancellor.”
The man’s eyes shifted with uncertainty.
“If you are one of the Left Chancellor’s people, you may make your identity known to me — there is no need to worry.” I produced the sealed letter and showed it to him, “I will not hand this letter over to Prince Yuzhang, and I will not expose your identity.”
The man lowered his head and deliberated for a long moment. He drew a deep breath, and at last gave a nod.
I held the letter to the candle flame and watched it turn to ash. Then I asked in a mild tone, “You have been embedded all along among Prince Yuzhang’s closest personal guards, gathering intelligence on military affairs for my father?”
The man nodded.
“Do you have companions?” I fixed my gaze on him.
The man shook his head decisively, his eyes shifting — a look of wariness had already entered them.
I looked at him in silence for a long while. That face was still so young… “You have devoted your loyalty to my father. Wang Xuan thanks you for it.” I lowered my head, gave him a slight bow, and turned to walk out of the door.
Pang Gui came forward to meet me, silent, head bowed, waiting for my word.
I let two words fall from my lips. “Put him to death.”
Never had the night wind in Huizhou felt so cold. I walked aimlessly with my head lowered, and felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing my heart — tighter, tighter, tighter — until I could not breathe. Without realizing it, my pace grew faster and faster.
This was the only path I could see that offered any chance of survival, and even if the price was devastating — there was no other choice.
I understood my father better than anyone else in this world — the Left Chancellor. He had navigated the turbulent seas of officialdom his entire life, exercising sole authority for decades. The depth of his scheming, the weight of his plans, were entirely beyond my imagining. His alliance with Xiao Qi was nothing more than a partnership between two equally matched opponents, acting under the guise of father and son-in-law… And even that so-called alliance was nothing more than a temporary alignment of enemies against a common foe.
I knew that Father had never truly trusted Xiao Qi — just as Xiao Qi had never trusted Father. In fact, he had never called him “father-in-law,” and I could scarcely recall hearing him use that word. Xiao Qi always referred to him as the Left Chancellor.
When I put on my wedding robes and stepped out of the family gate — what had Father been thinking in that moment? Had he, from that very instant, stopped seeing me as his most trusted and cherished daughter, and instead begun to see me only as the wife of an adversary… From the moment he gave me to Xiao Qi, he had begun to be on guard against this son-in-law who commanded a vast army, and had not only planted informants at his side, but had also extended that wariness to include me, distancing us both together.
In raising troops this time, though it was to support the Crown Prince and protect the Wang Family, it also gave Xiao Qi the opportunity to bring the influence of his military forces into the court. Once we succeeded, it was feared that Prince Yuzhang would replace the former Right Chancellor, and would divide the power of the court equally with Father.
Father naturally understood this perfectly well. He had no other choice — knowing full well he was inviting a wolf into the house, he had no option but to borrow Xiao Qi’s strength to first place the Crown Prince on the throne. Once Xiao Qi had repelled all the various loyalist forces and successfully enthroned the Crown Prince, Father would certainly not stand by and allow Xiao Qi to rise to power, handing over great authority to someone else.
These calculations — Xiao Qi could not have been unaware of them.
Father could plant informants among Xiao Qi’s closest personal guards. Xiao Qi’s own knowledge of the movements within the capital must be equally precise. Father had his secret agents; Xiao Qi had his spies. The two of them had probably been testing their wits against each other for far more than a day or two.
It was not that the thought had never crossed my mind before — if the day ever came when they would ultimately become enemies, where would I go? What would I choose?
On one side, the love of a parent. On the other, the person I held most dear in my heart. No one could weigh one against the other, and setting either one aside would be a pain carved straight into the marrow.
Until tonight — until I had seen with my own eyes the secret letter, seen that man… Everything had been laid out before me with complete clarity, forcing me to make a choice.
To spare him, or to kill him? To act as though I had never known, or to erase the whole matter entirely, and let no one find out?
In that moment, the blood that had flowed in my veins for eighteen years drove me to a decision made by instinct.
I did not know which side was right, and which side was wrong. I only knew that one side was my past, and the other was my future.
In my blood flowed the cold-blooded clarity that had accumulated over generations in this family of powerful ministers.
Father had given me everything most beautiful that could exist in this world — until the day he pushed me toward Xiao Qi with his own hands… and from that moment, all that beauty fell into the dust and burned to ash. At that time, I had been willing. I had walked without looking back down the road Father had pointed out for me… with no complaint and no regret. Yet deep in the core of my heart, from that day forward, a despair of having been abandoned had taken root, and would never fully heal.
Through storm after storm, through life and death at the edge of a blade, I had at last come to understand how hard life truly was. Whose side did I want to stand on, to have one patch of clear sky to shelter me from the wind and rain? When the shelter I once knew no longer exists — where can I find a place to rest?
Father, I have only one loyalty to give.
Three years ago, I used that loyalty in faithful fulfillment of your will. And this time, I choose to stand at my own husband’s side.
A tall figure blocked my path. The hem of a black robe embroidered with coiling dragons loomed squarely before my eyes.
My thoughts in a tangled snarl, I kept my head lowered, my feet moving too fast to stop myself — and unable to check my momentum, I walked straight into his arms.
“Where have you been running around to all evening?” His voice carried the heavy scent of wine, low and husky, with a faint edge of displeasure.
I did not lift my head. I pressed my face against his chest and simply held him tight, terrified of losing this last anchor.
He reached up to cup my face, and asked gently, “What is the matter?”
I could not find words to answer. The grief I had been holding back so long rose all at once and lodged in my throat, pressing down on me until I could barely breathe, a mouthful of bitterness that could not be spoken.
“Are you angry that I spent the whole evening drinking without keeping you company?” Xiao Qi teased with a faint smile, and lifted my face.
I squeezed my eyes shut — I did not want him to see the sorrow at the bottom of them.
He thought I was sulking, gave a low laugh, and scooped me up in his arms, carrying me in long strides toward the room.
Once inside, the maids had all withdrawn. He set me down on the couch, leaned close, and looked at me steadily. “Foolish girl — what on earth is wrong?”
I tried my utmost to pull the corners of my mouth into a trace of a smile, but could not conceal the bitterness in my heart no matter what I did.
He gazed at me, and the smile faded from his expression. “When you do not want to smile, you do not have to… I will not force you to do anything. You do not need to put on a show for me.”
I suddenly covered my face, hiding it behind my own palms, hiding away my tear-stained smile.
In that moment I was struck by a sudden realization of the difference between Father and Xiao Qi — when Father asked me to do anything, he took it as a matter of course and would never ask whether I was willing. But Xiao Qi was different — he needed me to do things wholeheartedly, and could not bear the slightest reluctance or pretense.
Perhaps this time, I had finally made the right choice after all. For once, at least, I had chosen a road for myself that I was walking willingly.
Whether there are regrets or not — at least this time, it was my own choice.
Xiao Qi said nothing, only held me close, and let me weep without restraint against him.
I wept as though I could not stop. My heart gradually grew clear, and I finally came to understand — this time, I had truly betrayed Father. From this day forward, he was lost to me, and I could never again return to the days of nestling at his knee…
“What could make you grieve so deeply?” Xiao Qi sighed, long and heavy. He lifted my face, and his eyes were filled with tenderness and sorrow.
I covered his hand with mine, and was suddenly gripped by panic. “If one day I lose everything, if I am left with nothing at all — would you still treat me as you do now? Would you stay by my side — to the very end, until we are old?”
He did not speak. He looked at me steadily, without a trace of a smile.
I could only laugh bitterly at myself, and felt a chill settle in my heart.
He leaned down slowly and said with a quiet sigh, “In my eyes, you are nothing to begin with — only my woman!”
The next day, the sky was swept clean, a brilliant blue, and the east wind blew strong. Sunlight fell across the surging Long River, blazing like a vast golden dragon cutting through the waves.
The whole world was suffused with a sweeping grandeur. Every trace of yesterday’s blood and wind had been washed away entirely.
To the sound of drums and gongs, the three armies set forth together, their armor blazing with light.
On the prow, flags and banners were vivid and sharp. The black command flag snapped boldly in the wind.
The tower ships raised their great sails, crashed through the waves, and surged forward. Bow following stern, they swept across the Long River in one vast, magnificent tide.
I stood at the ship’s prow with Xiao Qi, the river wind blowing sharply, whipping my hair into a tangle.
As I raised my hand, it touched against his. He looked at me with warm eyes and smiled, then reached out to smooth the strands of hair away from my brow.
“Better to serve as Commander of the Capital Garrison than to marry anyone but Yin Lihua.” He raised a brow and smiled, his manner soaring with boundless spirit. “When I was young, I greatly admired Emperor Guangwu, and I once held this very same aspiration.”
The dream of that long-ago young man was now firmly in his grasp. Never mind Commander of the Capital Garrison — even the title of vassal prince could no longer contain his ambitions.
I met his bright and shining gaze, and for a moment my heart was moved like the sway of a banner in the wind. I smiled and sighed, “Empress Guanglie was fortunate to be able to follow Emperor Guangwu — a well-spent life of beauty and grace. Imagining the Emperor and Empress in those days — with a beautiful woman beside him, settling the kingdom — what a swift and heroic joy that must have been…”
Xiao Qi laughed out loud, “Going to war a thousand li with you ever at my side — if Emperor Guangwu could know, he would surely envy me!”
Before us, the Long River flowed on and on. The sky and earth were wide and limitless. Yet in his eyes was a ten-thousand-zhang sweep of spirit that made even these magnificent mountains and rivers pale beside it.