But at this moment, in this empty imperial city, she could no longer suppress the pain in her heart, could no longer force herself to pretend indifference or bravery. No one knew the suffering in her heart, no one could understand how sad she was. Those chaotic thoughts grew like weeds in her heart, leaving it completely desolate. Why must it all be this way, all this forbearance, all this silence? Why must they all suppress themselves to accommodate her? She would rather they all be more ruthless, more selfish, showing nothing but false affection, doing everything with ulterior motives. Even if it would cause heartbreak, even if it would cause sadness, even if it would cause unbearable pain, she wouldn’t want to make such difficult choices.
How should she respond to such deep feelings? How should she repay them?
The dark red palace walls formed a zigzag corner where a majestic stone lion crouched. In front of it lay another road leading straight ahead.
Qing Xia reached out and gently touched the stone lion’s head, her heart filled with vast, inexpressible desolation. So many times she wished she could also be a speechless, heartless stone that didn’t need to think about anything, lonely but steadfast in guarding her direction.
Her eyes gradually became blurred. She didn’t know when she had become increasingly fragile, as if all the tears she hadn’t shed in her previous life had been saved for this one. The cold wind blew on her face, making the traces of tears very faint. She slowly crouched down beside the lion, her gorgeous palace attire dragging on the ground and becoming covered in dust. Her hand rested on the lion’s body as tears dropped one by one into the foot-thick layer of fallen leaves and dust. Her back trembled lightly, but made no sound.
On both sides of the corner, extending north and east, were two long roads each. Bright moonlight shone upon them, and the entire palace city seemed covered in a layer of white mist.
In a trance, two clear and lonely figures slowly appeared at the ends of the two long streets – one to the north, one to the east, forming opposing angles. They couldn’t see each other but could both see the woman in palace attire crouched before the stone statue, weeping silently.
Time roared past. Everything was like flowers reflected in water or moon in a mirror – misty fog everywhere, cold moon desolate. The two men stood tall and graceful, their robes fluttering, with an air of detached indifference. Their gazes were so peaceful, as tolerant as the ocean. The trajectory of star maps slowly changed, tightly entangling their fates together. Finally, those personal edges and sharpness were worn away bit by bit. Finally, they gradually learned how to love someone, only to suddenly discover that in the world of love, there really was no room for three people.
All was quiet except for the wind gently blowing. The woman’s pale cheeks had ivory-like whiteness. None of the three made any movement. Two gazes simply watched her quietly. Within the cold palace walls, the distant sound of jubilant strings and bamboo instruments drifted over, making this place seem even more deathly silent.
People never know what will happen in the future. Even the present is often difficult to grasp.
The third watch drum rumbled, and Qing Xia finally moved her numb legs and slowly stood up. Moonlight shone upon her with an otherworldly beauty.
Weakness was only temporary after all. Time wouldn’t stop because of anyone’s sadness. After tears were shed, life had to continue, and she still had to choose the path she would take. Time seemed to pause at this moment. Two gazes stared at her with slight fervor. In just a turn, perhaps the direction of future fate could be decided, and who she would walk toward could be determined.
All the gods and demons opened their eyes at this moment. Under myriad starlight, the desolate imperial city had an eerie stellar radiance. The air slightly condensed, making breathing difficult.
It only took the time for a flower to bloom. Dewdrops on the eaves fell to the ground with a ding, splashing tiny droplets.
Qing Xia didn’t look left or right. Standing before the stone statue, she wiped away her tears and gently patted the stone lion’s head with a bitter smile. Her voice was so soft, carrying a trace of indifferent yet helpless openness: “Thank you for keeping me company. I must go now.”
Then she turned around. Not toward the east, not toward the south. In the distant west, there were faint sounds of musical instruments. She turned decisively and left, step by step disappearing into the thick darkness until even her flying skirt hem was no longer visible.
Under the cold moon’s clear radiance and pale light, the two men also finally turned and left.
The eyes in heaven gazed down upon this vast earth. Within the ruined and desolate palace walls, the three people departed in their respective directions, their silhouettes all so lonely and cold, without a trace of warmth, gradually growing more distant.
What exactly had gone wrong? Who exactly had made the mistake? Was fate toying with them, or had they strayed from fate’s trajectory? In the cold and lonely night, a fallen leaf spun lightly in mid-air before finally drifting down to the ground. With one turn, it was covered by dust.
Qing Xia walked along the road when suddenly there was commotion ahead. She stopped and saw a man in bright yellow brocade approaching through layers of palace lanterns. Seeing Qing Xia, he too seemed startled and immediately stopped, his eyes looking deeply toward her.
Qing Xia didn’t know whether to call it enemies meeting on a narrow road. She slightly raised her head, looking at Prince Qi across from her, her straight spine like an unbending sharp sword.
A large group of people and horses blocked her path forward. Qi’an seemed to have no intention of yielding either. Instead, he slightly narrowed his eyes and said in a low voice: “Why are you here?”
Qing Xia raised an eyebrow. Her face was thin, pale, and white, her eyes like dark gems flashing with cold brilliance as she looked at him coldly, saying in a cool tone: “It hardly seems your place to interfere.”
The woman’s eyes seemed to carry the solid ice of the northern lands. Such an expression appearing on this face seemed so harsh and strange. Qi’an’s brow gradually furrowed. He suddenly said in a deep voice: “All of you withdraw!”
The surrounding attendants were all startled and wanted to say something, but were forced back by Qi’an’s cold glare. The crowd quickly receded like tide. Within the narrow palace walls on both sides, only Qing Xia and Qi’an remained. Qing Xia’s eyes were ice-cold as she immediately stepped forward, wanting to walk past Qi’an. But Qi’an suddenly reached out and grabbed Qing Xia’s wrist.
The woman in gorgeous palace attire had murderous intent in her eyes. She slowly raised her head and looked sideways at this man, saying in a deep voice: “Do you believe I could kill you right now under the charge of drunkenly insulting the Prince Xuan’s wife of Northern Qin? Even in death, you would be utterly disgraced.”
Qi’an looked at her steadily and finally slowly shook his head, saying: “You’re not her. Who exactly are you? Where is she?”
“Where is she? Do you care?” Qing Xia laughed coldly with mockery: “Put away that mask of deep affection. You never cared about her at all. You’re just afraid that the evidence of your collusion with Chu Zheng will fall into your political enemies’ hands. As long as the Qi King doesn’t die, you’ll be restless, won’t you? So why not go back and finish off your father with one stroke? After all, you’ve already killed your brother – what else is there to fear?”
Qi’an’s grip suddenly tightened as he said harshly: “You do know.”
“The whole world knows!” Qing Xia’s gaze immediately sharpened as she swatted away Qi’an’s hand and said in a deep voice: “Those who commit many injustices will destroy themselves. You’d better pray for your own good fortune and stop provoking me. Don’t think you can be arrogant just because you’re Eastern Qi’s crown prince. I was able to rescue you from Southern Chu’s prison without anyone knowing that day, and in the future, I can silently sneak into your bedroom and slit your throat with one stroke. If you don’t believe it, you’re welcome to test me!”
Qing Xia pushed him away and walked forward with her head high. Qi’an suddenly pursued a few steps and said urgently: “Wait.”
Qing Xia stopped but didn’t turn around. Time slowly passed before Qi’an finally asked in a low voice: “Is she still alive?”
“She died long ago,” Qing Xia laughed coldly, her voice carrying a trace of undisguisable vicissitude. “She died when you threw her into the Southern Chu palace and pushed her into someone else’s arms. I have no connection with you, nor will I be as despicable and shameless as you, using what she bought with her life to scheme for anything. But if you continue to press me relentlessly, I have other ways to cleanly eliminate you.”
“Qing Xia…”
“I am not Zhuang Qingxia,” Qing Xia said in a deep voice. “Prince Qi, you are someone who does great things. Your life is destined to climb step by step toward the highest peaks. Walking atop ten thousand mountains, though you can look down upon all living beings, one careless step will shatter you to pieces. So I don’t blame you for abandoning Zhuang Qingxia, nor do I blame you for using and framing her. But I hope that while you possess a ruler’s methods, you also possess a ruler’s heart and let go of past matters when you should. Zhuang Qingxia lived her entire life for you, her flower-like life buried on the broad road of your power. What she should have done, what she could do – she did it all. Now that she’s gone, you should release this chess piece.”
Qing Xia suddenly turned around, slightly raising her head with her eyes looking directly into Qi’an’s, saying word by word: “Prince Qi, I warn you for the last time. From now on, if you use past events to secretly harm people I care about, I absolutely won’t let you off. What you owe her, what you owe me – I will take it all back.”
The woman’s spine was straight like a blood-stained spear, so firm and upright like an evergreen pine as she walked away into the distance. Qi’an stood behind her, watching her gradually retreating figure as many long-forgotten past events flooded his mind. He seemed to see that bright smiling face again, seemed to hear her silver bell-like laughter again, seemed to see her in a flowered dress circling around him as he read, asking over and over: “Brother An, are you hot? Brother An, are you tired? Brother An, shall Xia’er sing for you? Brother An, let’s sneak out of the palace, shall we? Brother An…”