◎A Fine Night◎

Xu Zhi sat at the head of the room, wiping the long sword in his hands with a cloth.

The sword was named Dragon Light, left behind by Xiao Yue in years past.

A guard reported that Young Master Zhou had come to call, and so he hurriedly set down the sword and rose to greet him at the door.

Zhou Tan entered together with He Yuankai, still carrying the rich fragrance of wine about them.

Yan Fu, who had run in after them, grinned at him and hurried over to pour tea, saying cheerfully, “Foster Father, what made you think of polishing your sword today?”

Xu Zhi had once served as Xiao Yue’s deputy commander. Though technically a subordinate, Xiao Yue had been a bold and forthright man, and had regarded both him and Zhou Shu, his fellow deputy commanders, as brothers bound by life and death.

Just before the final battle at Dingxi, sensing that reinforcements would not arrive, Xiao Yue had sent him and Zhou Shu out of Lishao Pass under cover of night.

Ostensibly to deliver word for reinforcements—but in truth, to entrust his orphaned legacy to them.

He had ridden two horses to death rushing to the main camp to borrow troops, and no sooner had he arrived than word came that Lishao Pass had fallen, and Xiao Yue along with tens of thousands of the main Lingxiao Army had perished, their bones scattered across the wilderness.

Dazed, he opened the box Xiao Yue had entrusted to him and found within it the seal of his fief and his military merit medals.

The capital sent an insincere memorial scroll for Xiao Yue’s death, and Xu Zhi, leading the remaining several thousand elite troops of the Lingxiao Army, took over his fief and inherited the title of Marquis of Xiangning. To preserve what remained of Xiao Yue’s life’s work, they all changed their names and lived in obscurity, training their troops out in the uninhabited desert, never again showing their true strength except to protect the common people when Xishao invaded.

Even when ignorant petty officials from the Eleven Provinces came to provoke him, he endured it whenever he could.

Xu Zhi’s wife had died early without leaving any children, and to avoid arousing the capital’s suspicion, he simply petitioned that he would never remarry or have children in this lifetime. The Emperor was, unsurprisingly, quite satisfied, and gradually forgot about the Lingxiao Army entrenched in the northwest, setting aside his suspicions of Xu Zhi as well.

In the Emperor’s mind, what remained of Xiao Yue’s old forces could no longer pose any real threat.

Xu Zhi guarded the Lingxiao Army diligently and conscientiously, though even he himself didn’t know exactly what he’d been waiting for all these years.

Not until a vice-prefect from the capital, surnamed Zhou, arrived in Ruozhou, the city where he resided.

Upon hearing the surname Zhou, a strong premonition had stirred within him.

Out of caution, he had first sent He Yuankai, planted within Wu Fang’s household, to secretly assist him. He hadn’t expected Zhou Tan to be even more clever than he’d imagined—with He Yuankai’s help, like a tiger given wings, he had brought all of Ruozhou under his control in a remarkably short time.

He Yuankai brought the man to meet him.

At the time, his greatest hope had simply been that this man was Zhou Shu’s son.

Zhou Shu had become separated from him back when they first left the western frontier. Whatever charge Xiao Yue had entrusted to him, he had never once come looking for Xu Zhi over all these years. Xu Zhi had once sent people to Lin’an to search for him, and learned that Zhou Shu had died in an accident, his two sons having left Lin’an to seek out distant relatives.

The instant Zhou Tan walked into his residence behind He Yuankai, his heart shook violently.

So Xiao Yue had left behind an heir after all!

Something the man himself likely didn’t even know.

Xu Zhi stared at those amber-colored eyes before him, nearly speechless.

There was no need for the man to produce any credentials proving his identity. Song Chang had not seen Xiao Yue in many years and his memory of him had grown hazy, but Xu Zhi had spent every day with him—one glance was enough to see the striking resemblance.

Even though the young man’s temperament was cold and melancholic, utterly unlike Xiao Yue’s forthright bearing, when Xu Zhi took him riding out to the distant camp, more than a few old soldiers still fell to their knees before the tents, tears streaming down their faces.

Xu Zhi, his eyes brimming with tears, called out to him. “Young Master…”

Zhou Tan only smiled and shook his head, saying simply, “Uncle Xu. My father used to speak of you often.”

It took him a moment to realize that the “father” Zhou Tan referred to must be Zhou Shu, who had raised him.

Zhou Tan glossed over the cause of Zhou Shu’s death, telling him only about defeating Fu Qingnian in the capital, and finally revealing everything—that the young Prince of Jing was his student, and if he could be placed on the throne in place of Song Chang and his son, they would naturally have every reason to support him.

The Marquis of Xiangning’s household had been lifeless for many years, but now with Zhou Tan’s frequent visits, some vitality had finally returned.

Xu Zhi no longer needed to worry about Ruozhou reporting his true state to the capital. After years of being on constant guard, he could finally relax somewhat. Zhou Tan often sent a young soldier called Xiaoyan to deliver messages to him. Finding the boy clever and quick-witted, Xu Zhi took it upon himself to adopt him as a foster son, often sending him to train in the Lingxiao Army camp.

One day, he took Zhou Tan and his wife riding out to the site of the old Dingxi battle. Xishao forces had since withdrawn ten li from this place, but Lishao Pass remained in ruins, still desolate and cold, layered in thick, unyielding ice.

Zhou Tan dismounted and stood there for a long while.

The northern desert stretched out endlessly, leaving only the hundred zhang of ice before him. Over the centuries, countless souls had died fighting in this place, lingering on even after death, drifting above the western frontier, guarding the borders of the great Yin dynasty.

He heard Zhou Tan’s wife softly reciting into the fierce wind.

“Beacon fires of the northern frontier light up Ganquan; from Chang’an the flying general emerges from Qilian. Sons of good families bear rhinoceros-hide shields and jade swords; young knights ride white horses with golden bridles…”

Now, they had all vanished into this desolate yellow sand, leaving not a trace behind.

Fortunately, the child of an old friend still remained.

As Xu Zhi thought of these things, his eyes grew moist. When Yan Fu called out to him again, he finally came back to himself and covered his lapse. “Just recalling some old memories… the Dragon Light sword has been gathering dust in my household for years, unstained by blood for a long while now. General Xiao gave it to me back then—since you’re here today, boy, it’s yours now.”

Yan Fu excitedly took the sword, turning it over and examining it from every angle. Zhou Tan lowered his eyes and watched them for a long moment, a faint smile appearing on his face.

Only then did Xu Zhi speak. “Your merchant banquet must have gone very well, I imagine.”

Before Zhou Tan could respond, Yan Fu spoke up. “With Young Master Zhou and Prefect He working together, how could it not succeed? Ever since Wu Fang’s death, Ruozhou has seen a complete renewal, and wherever you go, you hear people singing their praises. Now that the merchants’ concerns have been resolved too, Ruozhou really has become an ironclad stronghold.”

He Yuankai bowed to Xu Zhi. “It’s all thanks to the Marquis’s kindness in promoting me back then.”

Xu Zhi laughed and waved off the gesture, inviting everyone to sit. “You’ve come today about Little He’s wedding, haven’t you? Xiaobai, why didn’t your wife come with you?”

He Yuankai quickly said, “The wedding date isn’t set yet, no rush… Young Master Zhou’s wife went to visit Yiran today.”

Yan Fu cut in, “No rush indeed. Master He’s been busy preparing the betrothal gifts these days—he’s just waiting until after the merchant banquet to deliver them. But even after the betrothal gifts are sent, there’ll still be a long time needed to prepare for the wedding banquet. Every woman in Ruozhou city envies Sister Wang now—even though she’s been married once before, Master He is putting so much thought into it.”

He Yuankai cleared his throat and said unhurriedly, “What does it matter that she’s been married before? When preparing a wedding for the one you love, of course you should put your heart into it. Women dream of this day from a young age. Yiran didn’t meet the right man before, so naturally I have to make up for all her past grievances, so that looking back on this wedding, she’ll feel it was complete and without regret.”

Yan Fu clicked his tongue admiringly, then turned to see Zhou Tan sitting in his chair, lost in thought. “Young Master Zhou, what are you thinking about?”

Xu Zhi teased with a smile, “Xiaobai’s probably thinking back on his own wedding, isn’t he? I can tell he and young lady Qu are very much in love—back then it must have…”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Yan Fu slapped his thigh, gossiping eagerly to Xu Zhi. “Foster Father, you might not know this, but my sister wrote to tell me once that Young Master Zhou and his wife’s marriage was granted by His Majesty. And apparently, at the time of the marriage decree, Young Master Zhou had been the victim of an assassination attempt, so someone else had to hold a rooster in his place while he bowed to Heaven and Earth with his wife.”

He Yuankai looked somewhat astonished. “Is that really true?”

“At the time… I was too gravely wounded, unconscious for days, my life hanging in the balance,” Zhou Tan explained with a wry smile. “The palace’s decree of marriage was meant to ward off ill fortune for me through the marriage itself… if not for my wife, I might well have died that very day.”

Just a few words were enough to paint a picture of how perilous things had been in the capital back then. Xu Zhi patted his shoulder without a word, while He Yuankai sighed. “Wealth and glory are sought at great risk—those of us at the frontier always thought the capital a paradise of comfort, and being a favored student of the Emperor no small honor. Who could have guessed at the hardship hidden within it?”

Yan Fu sighed along with him. “My lady really is an extraordinary woman. If it had been anyone else, who knows how much of a fuss they’d have made over being handed such a marriage decree, let alone going so far as to save someone’s life…”

Zhou Tan said nothing. He pondered for a while, then suddenly looked up and asked He Yuankai, somewhat hesitantly, “Do women truly place so much importance on the wedding ceremony itself?”

The lights of the western frontier were faint and dim, and at night the stars shone far brighter than they did in the capital.

The Gerila Festival fell right at the time of the full moon. As Qu You returned to the residence, she happened to see a clear, round moon hanging high in the night sky, bright and beautiful amid the shadows of the trees, stirring something in her heart.

The apricot blossoms in the garden had all bloomed and fallen by now, tiny fruits just beginning to form on the branches. Qu You wouldn’t let anyone sweep away the fallen petals, so the remnants on the ground hadn’t yet fully melted into the soil, looking like unmelted fresh snow.

She had only just come through the gate when she heard the sound of a horse neighing at the entrance.

She turned and saw Zhou Tan standing beneath the moonlight, walking toward her draped in moonlight. She stared, momentarily dazed, and in that daze recalled the first time they had ever met.

Not in the fragrant bridal chamber, not through the distant glimpse across the screen at Songfeng Pavilion, but in her dream.

The Zhou Tan in her dream had been no different from the man before her now, only more fragile and sorrowful. The first time they’d met, complete strangers, he had taken off the last garment shielding him from the cold and given it to her.

The moonlight was as cold and clear now as it had been then; she still remembered the scent of blood mixed with still-water fragrance lingering on that crane-feather cloak.

Zhou Tan walked toward her, his expression somewhat unnatural, as though he wanted to say something but in the end didn’t, only asking, “Is my wife enjoying the moon?”

“Yes,” Qu You answered, and recalling what Wang Yiran had said to her, added, “Would my husband care to enjoy it with me?”

Zhou Tan readily agreed. “That would be wonderful.”

So the two of them sat down together in the garden pavilion. He Xing brought over a jug of fine grape wine from the western regions, then withdrew along with the others. Qu You poured a cup for Zhou Tan and said with interest, “‘Fine grape wine in a cup that glows at night’… but this cup is sky-blue rain-glaze porcelain—lovely, but it doesn’t quite suit the wine. Did you know this wine ought to be served in a glass cup, to truly bring out its color?”

Zhou Tan gazed at her deeply. “Tomorrow I’ll send someone to find you a glass cup.”

Qu You asked idly, “And if they can’t find one?”

Zhou Tan said, “If you’ve seen one before, then one can be found. And even if it truly can’t be found, I can have one made for you.”

Amused by him, Qu You raised her cup and looked up. “I’ve seen the stars in the sky too, you know.”

Zhou Tan followed her gaze, raised his hand as if to block out the distant stars, and said quite earnestly, “If you want them, I’ll go pick them for you.”

Qu You laughed even more deeply. She set down her cup and reached up to wrap her arms around Zhou Tan’s neck. “Tan-lang, how did you get to be so good to me?”

She rarely called him “Tan-lang”; the last time he’d heard it, it had been said in jest.

Hearing it now, Zhou Tan felt an unexpected warmth rise to his cheeks.

The scent of apricot blossom powder lingered at the tip of his nose. He reached out and drew her close, saying in a low voice, “There’s something I want to tell you…”

Just then, Qu You said at the same time, “There’s something I want to ask you—”

So Zhou Tan yielded. “All right, you ask first.”

Qu You tightened her arms around him, staring into his amber eyes so close to her own, and murmured, “We’ve been married for so long now, and yet it only occurred to me today that I’ve never asked you, Tan-lang, do you…”

He suddenly felt his heart pounding like a drum.

Beneath the moonlight, he leaned in close; her eyes were achingly beautiful, reflecting the cold, faint silver light of the sky above.

“—Do you like me or not?”