“Yima’er,” the mellow voice sounded lowly in the great tent. Qin Zhiyan gazed at Qing Xia’s thin, sharp little face, his fingers tenderly tracing over the wound on her neck as he spoke in a clear, gentle voice: “I know you can hear me.”

“I once gave you a chance. I told myself you were a white eagle that couldn’t be bound by shackles—you needed a free life and vast skies. I once convinced myself to give you such freedom, but unfortunately you didn’t grasp the opportunity. You couldn’t take good care of yourself.”

He faintly curled his lips, a warm smile slowly spreading across his face. The night wind was cool, and outside the tent was a large, round moon. Under the moonlight, everything was white with snow. Countless yak-hide felt tents looked like white steamed buns, with stone-like steadfast soldiers standing at every corner of the great camp, guarding this quiet night.

Inside the tent was warm as spring. Qin Zhiyan’s eyes were like peaceful lakes on the grassland. He smiled gently, yet his smile carried inexplicable bitterness.

“Your martial arts are outstanding, you kill while laughing and talking, seemingly fearless, but actually you’re the person who least knows how to protect yourself. You’re always helping others, but have you ever once truly considered and planned for yourself? Your entire life has been spent being driven by others, fighting and maneuvering for others. Have you ever thought that you too are flesh and blood, that like ordinary people, you can feel pain, get hurt, bleed, and die? Since you won’t plan for yourself, I’ll plan for you. Since you can’t take good care of yourself, I’ll take care of you. Yima’er, once you’ve stepped into my Yan Character Battalion, never leave again. This time, I won’t let go.”

A crystal tear suddenly flowed slowly from the corner of the woman’s tightly closed eyes. Qin Zhiyan bent down, using his cold fingertips to slowly wipe away her tears in sleep. His smile was light as wind and clouds, like April willows with the vitality of tender green branches.

“Yima’er, I’ll take you back to Xianyang, buy you a grand mansion, open a large trading house, be your backing, let you earn lots of money. I’ll also take you to the imperial study, let you read books. You can eat delicacies daily, wear silk and satin, use your influence to bully the weak on the streets, and no matter how much you cause trouble, you won’t have to fear being arrested to see officials.”

“You’ll become Xianyang City’s most powerful merchant, with countless gold and silver mountains. You can lord it over others, dominate a region. If anyone dares bully you, I’ll abuse my authority to send them all to military service at the frontier as laborers, never to return to the Central Plains.”

“When the warfare ends, I’ll take you to your country. We’ll board great ships, sail across oceans, to find those chickens you like to eat, to the land where you lived, your hometown, to breathe the air there, see the white snow and warm sun there, and find those who bullied you to teach them a harsh lesson.”

“Yima’er, I never regret what I do, but now I truly regret it. Why did I have the heart to let you live alone in this chaotic world? Even if you hate me, I should have tied you to my side. Why did I trust Chu Li? Why did I give him the chance to be with you? Even if it caused Qin and Chu to become enemies, I should have killed him and snatched you back. Yima’er, one wrong step leads to more wrong steps. Tell me, do I still have a chance to make amends?”

“Yima’er, I will protect you until the day I no longer have the ability. If that day truly comes, I will definitely find you a way out and won’t harm you in the slightest.”

“Yima’er, you once said this name means longevity, so please, you must persist. In the imperial mausoleum, we made a vow that neither could abandon the other first. We persisted through such a dangerous environment—now, you cannot give up either.”

“I’m staying right here watching over you. If something happens to you, I’ll make the entire White Deer Fort, all of Xichuan, the entire world, accompany you in death.”

“Yima’er, I mean what I say.”

Qin Zhiyan’s voice gradually faded. His sleeve beside Qing Xia’s face was already soaked with tears. He gently caressed her face—her face was so small, much thinner than when they last parted. The candlefire in the room crackled and burned, occasionally shooting out tiny sparks like a child throwing a small tantrum. Warm air flowed around them. Qin Zhiyan’s face was so gentle, clear and light like a landscape painting. He held Qing Xia’s hand, quietly watching her without moving. A slight breeze lifted his hem, gently raising a small piece, carrying the faint fragrance of Sichuan fritillary medicine.

Time slowly passed, the hourglass dripping golden sand grain by grain. In her dreams, the clouds at the horizon grew closer and closer—blue sky and white clouds, ten thousand li of distant blue-green. The raging fire gradually receded, darkness slowly disappeared. The clouds at the horizon whispered softly to her, their voice hoarse, like mother’s soft hands in memory, smoothing out the wrinkles and wounds in her heart bit by bit.

If this is a dream, let me keep dreaming forever. Those warm words surrounding her made her feel like she was soaking in hot springs.

Please don’t blame me for coveting such warmth. I’m just very tired and want to find a safe place to rest for a while. Those who haven’t trekked long in darkness cannot understand the magic that sunlight holds for such a person.

Like a gentle breeze softly brushing over morning flowers in bloom, clear dew sparkles on tender petals. All the storms were like a dream—after waking, there’s still dawn’s light. Xi Lin Chen would still bring her warm washing water, Bamber and Nakdo would still laugh unrestrainedly, Xudalie would return from afar to hunt on horseback in the wilderness, Aunt Doihua would smile honestly, leaning against the home’s front door, reminding the children about to go out, and Amoyeh would jump hopscotch with a group of village children, playing the games she taught them. Delicate bird songs would sound like ethereal celestial music, hope rippling in dots throughout the air.

The village would be peaceful everywhere. She would live there for a lifetime—no war, no turmoil, the flames of war would never reach there. No dangerous missions from Military Intelligence Division 9, no continuous traps and conspiracies from Chu Li, no entangled multiple identities as Zhuang Qingxia, nothing at all—only new life, new days, new beginnings.

If this is a dream, let me live in dreams forever.

Her hand suddenly gained a bit of strength, moving slightly in Qin Zhiyan’s palm.

Just this gentle movement immediately startled the man sitting on the bed. Qin Zhiyan’s eyes became somewhat heated. He softly called Qing Xia’s name, his voice so small, so careful, so cautious, as if afraid of frightening someone.

“Yima’er…”

“Yima’er…”

“Yi… ma’er…”

Her eyes slowly opened a crack—it was glaring candlelight, bright and dazzling colors that made someone long in darkness feel somewhat uncomfortable. She gently frowned but still tried hard to make the effort, gradually, gradually opening them.

Phoenix eyes, silkworm eyebrows, gentle features, smiling lips—just like in the golden hall of the imperial palace back then, that smile warm as spring.

“Qin… Zhiyan…”

A hoarse voice slowly sounded, without surprise, without shock, without even the slightest emotional fluctuation. Everything seemed so natural, as if rehearsed a thousand times. The man smiled gently, slowly supporting Qing Xia’s head, letting her forehead rest against his firm shoulder.

“Yima’er.” Qin Zhiyan smiled gently, though his eyes held faint ripples, his voice mellow and pleasant, carrying a man’s ocean-deep emotions.

“Welcome back.”

When she woke up, it was the evening of the third day. Qin Zhiyan held a piece of white silk moistened with rice water, carefully wiping her cracked lips. Her bright eyes suddenly opened, just like that night three days ago when she suddenly opened her eyes and looked at him weakly, with gentle, warm smiles at her lip corners. Outside the tent, wind and snow suddenly swirled up with a whoosh, making the yak-hide tent hum and whir. Qin Zhiyan brought over medicine from nearby, his mellow voice warm like April lake water.

“Yima’er, take your medicine.”

Qing Xia’s head was dizzy. She didn’t ask much, just obediently opened her mouth, swallowing the bitter medicine that Qin Zhiyan personally fed her sip by sip. The great tent was so quiet, as if she hadn’t woken up yet. Only the wind outside blew with rushing sounds. The setting sun dyed the yak-hide tent golden yellow—everything was like a still painting.

Qin Zhiyan fed her medicine while carefully wiping away the black medicine residue at her lip corners, his fingers slender, carrying traces of cool touch.

After taking the medicine, Qin Zhiyan stood up. His tall figure wore a light blue plain brocade robe, his boots made of white deerskin, stepping on the warm felt carpet without the slightest sound. He walked to the small table in the tent’s center, took a red lacquered food box, and opened the lid—hot steam immediately rose up. Qing Xia had seen such food boxes when she was in Southern Chu. The bottom layer contained burning charcoal to keep the food above hot.

“You must be hungry,” Qin Zhiyan said with a smile, then brought out various exquisite small dishes from inside. Each portion wasn’t large, but the varieties were complex and refined—no meat or fish, plain and light, very suitable for patients just recovering from serious illness.

As soon as Qin Zhiyan finished speaking, Qing Xia’s stomach made rumbling sounds. Having not had a drop of rice water for three days, she was extremely hungry.

No matter how unconcerned with formalities Qing Xia usually was, she couldn’t help but smile slightly with pursed lips. Qin Zhiyan’s smile was warm. He lowered his head, and with each dish he picked up, he would indicate with his eyes to Qing Xia, wanting to know if she liked it. Seeing Qing Xia nod, he would feed her a little bit. This meal filled Qing Xia quite well. Just as she was about to say she couldn’t eat more, Qin Zhiyan had already cleared away the food box and utensils. He had definitely never done such things before, but he did them very well—unhurried and unrushed, in plain clothes with wide sleeves, everything cleaned up in moments.