The imperial edict had been issued, and the matter was decided. Duan Xu did not say anything more to General Qin. As he took his leave and departed from the camp, Qin Huanda watched the young man’s figure disappear beyond the camp gate and suddenly felt a moment of disorientation.

He wondered if he had been like this when he was young—sharp, arrogant, and fearlessly moving forward.

The long passage of time and the comfort of the border had worn away his ambition to reclaim lost territory, causing him to become engrossed in the turbulent power struggles at court. Now he discovered that trapped in the complicated web of factional strife, he no longer dared to appreciate and promote a talented young man who belonged to a different camp.

When this young man reached his age, would he still remember his aspirations? Or would he also find himself trapped in a web of worldly affairs, unable to extricate himself, struggling to move forward?

General Qin heaved a long sigh and closed the imperial edict before him.

Duan Xu had just walked out of General Qin’s main tent when he saw a familiar attendant waiting by the entrance. After a moment’s thought, he realized it was one of Zheng An’s men.

The attendant bowed to him and said, “General Duan, Master Zheng requests your presence.”

Duan Xu nodded with a smile and said, “Thank you for your trouble.”

He followed the attendant through the camp to Zheng An’s carriage. The attendant lifted the curtain and said to Duan Xu, “Please, General.”

Duan Xu lifted the hem of his robe, stepped onto the carriage, and bent down to enter. As soon as he entered, he met Zheng An’s gaze. Zheng An gestured to the seat beside him and said, “Please, sit.”

Duan Xu sat down, smiled, and bowed, “Uncle Zheng.”

Zheng An’s usually stern face softened slightly, showing a hint of a smile. He was about to pat Duan Xu’s shoulder when he noticed bloodstains seeping through his clothes under the light armor.

Zheng An’s hand paused in mid-air before he lowered it. He sighed deeply and said, “You have truly suffered. If Chengzhang saw you like this now, he would be heartbroken. Your eldest and second brothers died young, and now you are his only son. If anything were to happen to you, what would become of Chengzhang?”

“When I was young, Master Qingxuan predicted that throughout my life I would turn misfortune into good fortune. Uncle and Father need not worry.”

“Recently, a case of corruption in the Horse Administration was uncovered in court. His Majesty was furious, and when your memorial about the Northern Bank campaign was presented, it aligned perfectly with His Majesty’s wishes. The Emperor immediately instructed me to rush to the front lines with the imperial edict. Although your name was not mentioned in the edict, His Majesty admires you greatly. Combined with your distinguished military achievements, you will certainly be given an important position when you return to court,” said Zheng An.

Duan Xu nodded, his smile bright as he said, “I am indebted to Prime Minister Du and all of you uncles for your support.”

“Your father and I were classmates; this small matter is nothing.”

After a pause, Zheng An’s expression grew serious: “Shunxi, let me ask you, do you have any grievances with Fang Xianye?”

“What do you mean?”

“This time, he criticized you for submitting a memorial directly without going through General Qin, which violates protocol. If His Majesty hadn’t been so pleased with your memorial, you might have found yourself in trouble again. Although Fang Xianye is Lord Pei’s man, he has repeatedly targeted you, as if he has a personal grudge. I asked Chengzhang but got no answer. Have you offended him somehow? He’s gaining momentum at court now, so tell me so we can help you deal with it.”

Duan Xu showed a puzzled expression and said, “I don’t know either. I didn’t know him before we passed the imperial examination in the same year. Father did instruct me to avoid confrontation with him, but he never explained why.”

Zheng An fell silent, thinking for a while, then sighed deeply.

Duan Xu spoke with Zheng An a little longer before taking his leave. As he stepped down from the carriage and watched it depart from the camp, his smile became hollow and superficial.

Duan Xu thought to himself that this place was not much better than Tianzhixiao; it was merely escaping from hell only to enter the fire pit. Even allies were looking for ways to extract some leverage from him.

He supposed the world was just an endless series of fire pits without any paradise to be found.

He returned to his residence alone, removed his light armor, and rebandaged his bleeding wounds before changing into a soft round-collared robe and walking out onto the street. He moved through the crowds, stroking the sword in his hand, slightly opening it, then closing it again.

He had just knelt and bowed in the military camp, and now he was walking on the street, all by force of bodily habit. Only when he saw his limbs performing the corresponding actions did he believe that he was indeed successfully controlling his body.

If he were to draw his sword from its scabbard and duel with someone right now, relying solely on this bodily instinct, what would his chances of victory be?

Losing sensation was like when he fell into a pit at the age of five—pitch black with nowhere to gain purchase. His strict father stood at the opening of the pit and said to him, “I will not save you; you must climb up by yourself.”

He cried from daylight until nightfall, but in the end, he truly climbed out by himself. From that moment on, he never again begged anyone for salvation. He thought no one would rescue him—not his father, not the gods—only he could pull himself out.

That childish stubbornness ultimately saved him at Tianzhixiao, because his father truly did not come to rescue him. He didn’t know whether this was fortunate or unfortunate.

Duan Xu raised his hand above his head. Sunlight filtered through his fingers, casting shadows on his eyes as he peered at the intense light through the gaps between his fingers.

This was his hand, yet he could feel nothing.

This body, which he had prided himself on, which had been his most agile and powerful means of survival—if one day it no longer retained its strength, what else could he believe in?

“General!”

A familiar voice woke him from his thoughts. Duan Xu lowered his hand and saw Meng Wan running toward him with a distressed expression. She said, “Shunxi, what’s going on with this friend of yours? She’s been touching everything as she walks down the street and has damaged countless things.”

She implied, “This is too provincial.”

Duan Xu looked up and saw He Simu dressed in a fashionable light pink silk robe popular among young ladies, holding a pinwheel as she stood by a small stall on the street. She reached out and directly pinched the face of a figurine on the stall. The freshly made, still-soft dough figurine instantly collapsed under her fingers.

She continued pinching it until the figurine was completely disfigured, her eyes filled with curiosity.

The vendor cried out in dismay, while He Simu, her expression unchanged, turned to shout at Meng Wan, “Officer Meng, pay up!”

Meng Wan stomped her foot in frustration.

He Simu casually ran her hand over the tables of various stalls, smiling as she walked toward them.

The pinwheel in her left hand began to spin rapidly. In the sunlight, the gentle spring breeze came from the south, swept across the turbulent river, passed through pavilions and towers, crossed this wide street, brushed past the tips of her hair, and propelled the colorful little pinwheel in her hand, making a faint whooshing sound.

He Simu spread her arms, raised her head, and closed her eyes. The brilliant sunlight poured over her, and the wind from behind her made her clothes flutter.

Duan Xu stared in amazement.

He suddenly remembered the moment when he killed Fifteen. Fifteen’s curse that he would forever be a monster echoed in his exhausted, frenzied, and desolate mind. That evil excitement and despair climbed up and gripped his throat.

Then this girl walked toward him, patted his face, and said to him—”Wake up.”

In all these years, besides himself, she was the first and only girl who had ever told him to “wake up.”

Now she was being pushed toward him by this bright spring day, as if she had attained supreme happiness in this world.

Duan Xu stared at He Simu, and suddenly he began to laugh, his chest trembling, his eyes curved in a smile: “Is this world really so lovely? Meng Wan, look at her, why is she smiling so foolishly?”

Meng Wan stared at Duan Xu in surprise.

The wind lifted his hair ribbon, and he smiled brightly, like the sea of crabapple blossoms in the southern capital during spring.

Duan Xu had always been fond of smiling—he smiled at good things and smiled at bad things. Many times, Meng Wan didn’t know what he was thinking, whether he was truly happy.

But searching through her memories, she could not find a single instance of Duan Xu with such a genuinely happy smile as the one he wore now.

Meng Wan stammered, “Shunxi… you…”

Before she could ask her question, He Simu had already reached them. She said to Meng Wan casually, “Officer Meng, why are you still standing here? The shopkeeper wants payment.”

Before Meng Wan could react, Duan Xu took out his money pouch and handed it to Meng Wan, instructing her that all damages for the day would be paid from his funds.

Meng Wan asked, “Shunxi… who is this lady?”

Before Duan Xu could answer, He Simu answered for him: “Didn’t I say? My name is Seventeen, just call me Seventeen.”

Duan Xu was silent for a moment, then smiled and said, “Seventeen?”

“Yes.”

Meng Wan looked at the two of them, sighed, and turned to pay the bill.

He Simu felt no guilt about owing money. She twirled in place with her pinwheel, saying, “So this is the wind!”

She hadn’t yet adapted to this body that could feel like an ordinary mortal. After just a couple of turns, she stumbled over stones on the path.

Duan Xu immediately steadied her by holding her hand, and He Simu’s reddened fingers tightened in the spaces between his, finger by finger intertwining, their hands locked together.

She seemed to have a vibrant body now; perhaps her hand was warm, no longer as cold as the winter wind as it had been before—her warmth came from his body.

He Simu looked at their interlocked fingers and chuckled softly, “I’ve heard that fingers are connected to the heart.”

“Hmm?”

“Does that mean I’m holding your heart?”

*Does that mean I’m holding your heart?*

She said it so casually. Duan Xu knew she was merely being curious.

Their fingers were interlaced perfectly, and though he clearly couldn’t feel anything, yet somehow he could.

His hand felt nothing, yet his heart trembled.

The ice shard that had pierced his heart when she said “pain” finally melted, flowing into his blood, and becoming a part of his ongoing life.

Duan Xu lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked up with a smile, his bright eyes filled with a layer of light, and said, “Yes.”

*Who knows since when you have held my heart.*

He Simu was too happy to notice the young man’s intense gaze. She released Duan Xu’s hand and looked around at this bustling world.

Four hundred years flowed before her eyes like the tide. She said softly, “So you didn’t lie to me. This world is so beautiful. It was worth… these hundreds of years…”

For hundreds of years, she had painstakingly protected this world.

Father, Mother, Aunt, Uncle.

He Simu called their names in her heart. She wanted to tell them that this was the first time she had felt the wind and sunlight, just as gentle and blissful as they had described.

She had not failed them, and they had not deceived her.

But where were they now?

He Simu’s gaze trembled, and her extreme joy suddenly seemed to be covered with a layer of mist, becoming hazy.

The cloudless blue sky appeared very high as if it could never be reached. A line of wild geese flew in an orderly V-formation from afar, gradually disappearing into the azure sky. He Simu gazed at the clear blue sky, and then her eyes fell on the bustling street, and she suddenly laughed softly.

The vastness of heaven and earth, the multitude of living beings, yet she walked alone.

Life’s joys and sorrows, with no one to share.

That night, the evil spirit He Simu dreamed for the first time in four hundred years. Since she was an inexperienced evil spirit who had never been human, naturally she had never dreamed before, so at first, she thought it was real.

In the dream, her young mother held her hand, and her father played the flute for them in the glow of the setting sun, in a bright expanse of white.

She asked her mother what was so good about the flute music, as she couldn’t make out the melody at all.

Her mother said that actually, her father couldn’t hear it either; he merely knew the technique.

So she asked, what was the point of her father playing the flute?

Her mother just smiled. She patted her head and said—But I can hear it. Your father plays the flute for me because he loves me. He knows I can hear his love in it. That’s why living people cherish music because it contains emotion.

Her mother also said—Simu, the living people in this world are fragile and sensitive, passionate and vibrant. Your power is too strong; you must learn to understand them and then be gentle with them.

One day, like your father, you will maintain the balance between ghosts and humans to protect this world.