The closer she got to Pengyang City, the more restless Qing Xia’s heart became. She wondered if perhaps Qin Zhiyan had already recovered from his illness and was now waiting for her to return in the lakeside residence, or maybe the Qingpeng Seven Tribes had found news of Qin Zhiyan’s whereabouts, with letters bearing that information waiting at home, or perhaps Lian Zhou, Bi’er, and the others had returned looking for her.

She imagined thousands upon thousands of possibilities, her heart beating like a drum, seven up and eight down. With such restless feelings, she barely noticed that Pengyang City was unusually quiet today. She thought perhaps she should first go to Ruyun Tower to get the key from Cheng Xiao, but then again, what if – maybe – possibly – Qin Zhiyan had already returned during this time and was now at home waiting for her? Then what would she need any key for?

The short stretch of road seemed endless, and when she came back to her senses, she had already arrived at the front gate of the residence.

Qing Xia dismounted and stood at the doorway. Though she had mentally prepared herself, when her fingertips touched the door panel and the gate creaked open slowly, she still felt her mind go completely blank, her breathing nearly stopping instantly.

The courtyard was very clean, showing no signs of being uninhabited for a long time. Three years ago, she had returned once before, and it had been just as tidy then. She had been overjoyed, thinking Qin Zhiyan had returned, and ran frantically all the way to Ruyun Tower, only to be told it was because Cheng Xiao went to clean periodically. The disappointment from that time tormented her so much that she couldn’t speak a word for three days and nights. It was precisely because of that incident that her determination to leave seclusion and search for him was solidified. She couldn’t do it – she really couldn’t just stay foolishly in the house where she and Qin Zhiyan had lived together, spending every day looking forward with longing eyes for his return. There were too many traces of his life there; every flower and blade of grass would drive her to madness with missing him. She had to escape, or she might have gone insane long ago.

The orchids in the courtyard had bloomed, giving off a faint, delicate fragrance. These were planted by Qin Zhiyan’s own hands and had now grown quite tall. Qing Xia carefully stepped over them and continued walking inward. The row of willow trees in the corner had grown as thick as rice bowls – when Lian Zhou, Qing’er, and Bi’er had first planted them, they were only as thin as thumbs. The small pond, long neglected, was a vibrant green expanse with lotus leaves that hadn’t yet bloomed floating on its surface. The swallow’s nest under the eaves had been built up, and probably several broods of baby swallows had been born there. She remembered when they had first moved in, this nest was just beginning to be built, and that pair of swallows was very industrious, busily working all day long. She and Qin Zhiyan would watch from inside the house when they had nothing else to do, and even just watching felt tremendously interesting.

There were relatively new New Year pictures pasted on the door. She didn’t know if they were put up by Cheng Xiao or if someone had returned and pasted them up themselves.

Qing Xia slowly lifted her foot and stepped onto that level of stairs, step by step by step, walking up. Her fingers trembled slightly as she stretched them out, gently touching that wooden door.

Perhaps after opening it, inside would only be Cheng Xiao busy cleaning, or perhaps – maybe – it would be someone else, that man in elegant green robes, sitting quietly in a soft chair, leisurely reading through ancient texts and miscellaneous records.

Qing Xia’s heart beat so fast, and the timidity of being near home yet more afraid intensely tormented her nerves.

Finally, she applied slight pressure; finally, she pushed hard.

It wasn’t locked. The door creaked and slowly opened. Bright sunlight from outside immediately shone in, and in the gentle beams of light, tiny dust particles danced in the light rays. On a soft-backed reclining chair near the table, a man in a dark green robe with deep, quiet eyes and handsome, refined features was leaning back, holding an ancient scroll in his hand, reading it carefully. Hearing the sound, he turned his head, his eyes suddenly widening, looking with disbelief at the woman who had returned dusty and travel-worn from thousands of miles away.

Qing Xia slowly raised her hand to cover her mouth, and the tears that had been suppressed for so long, so very long – tears that hadn’t fallen despite traveling tens of thousands of miles – finally streamed down her face.

When Qing Xia was still training in the military department, she had heard an instructor say that everyone had a breaking point. Many special agents executing missions abroad could stubbornly persist in returning to their homeland no matter how severely injured they were, but often died the moment they saw their military intelligence colleagues. At that time, Qing Xia didn’t understand to what extent a person’s faith could sustain them. But now, looking at Qin Zhixiang’s face that so resembled Qin Zhiyan’s, five years of exhaustion and tidal waves of undisguisable disappointment finally came roaring in, engulfing her entire being with a thunderous crash.

Qing Xia supported herself against the door frame, biting her lower lip tightly. Her pale cheeks showed no expression, only tears flowing down line by line. The wind outside lifted her hair tied in a bundle and the white ribbon binding it, like the wings of a broken butterfly, fluttering back and forth in the cool air. Something seemed to be breaking inch by inch in her heart – it was death after harboring enormous hope, a heart sinking little by little, gradually falling down.

During that time in the Persian Gulf, she had fallen gravely ill and nearly died. But several times when struggling on the edge of death, she seemed to hear Qin Zhiyan’s melodious and gentle flute music, seeing him standing by the shores of Mingyang Lake in pale green robes, his eyes gentle and his smile warm, like the lake water in March – peaceful, slightly cool, distant and otherworldly. So she thought, perhaps Qin Zhiyan had already returned to Pengyang and was quietly waiting for her to come back. It was this belief that supported her, making her traverse thousands of miles of desert, walking back step by step.

Though she had suppressed that hope in her heart thousands of times, though she thought she had a strong enough heart to face all disappointment and setbacks, when hope was shattered in that moment, she was still so fragile, as if snow from the far north was covering her heart, layer upon layer, bringing endless desolation and loss.

“You, you’ve returned.” Qin Zhixiang stood up, somewhat flustered. This man who had dominated the northern frontiers for five years and recovered vast territories, Emperor Jiyuan, at this moment was just like when they first met in the Taihe Great Hall, saying awkwardly to his brother, “I’m afraid your younger brother didn’t do well.”

Qing Xia’s gaze swept across his face piece by piece. The contours were very similar, but Qin Zhiyan didn’t have such a healthy complexion – his face always appeared slightly pale, like a scholar who rarely saw sunlight. The eyebrows were very similar, but Qin Zhiyan’s carried a hint of refined elegance, unlike his wild and stubborn nature. The mouth was very similar, but the corners of Qin Zhiyan’s mouth always curved up slightly with a warm smile. The eye shape was very similar, but Qin Zhiyan’s eyes were always gentle, so warm, unlike his, which contained too much sharp light that she couldn’t and didn’t want to understand.

After all, he wasn’t him. No matter how similar, there was only one Qin Zhiyan in this world, and he was gone, nowhere to be found.

“Yan Hui killed the Lu King and sent troops to the capital of Xichuan, appearing as if he wants to establish himself as king and replace the Yunliang clan. The Chu Emperor invited me – no, the Chu Emperor invited me to meet at the border to discuss countermeasures. I arrived early and, knowing that Third Brother once lived here, wanted to come and see.”

Qing Xia slowly nodded, carrying her bundle and slowly walking in, sitting in a chair. She placed the bundle on the table, her steps somewhat heavy, walking as if with great difficulty.

Qin Zhixiang stood in the room, thought for a moment, and finally sat down, saying softly: “I heard from the owner of Ruyun Tower that you’ve been gone for three years. I sent people everywhere to look for you but found no trace, only finding records of you leaving seclusion. These past years, where did you go?”

Hearing this, Qing Xia suddenly looked up and asked: “Do you have news of Zhiyan’s whereabouts?”

Qin Zhixiang was stunned, sighed quietly, and said: “No. Are you still looking for Third Brother?”

On the table was clear tea with slight steam rising from it, probably prepared by someone when Qin Zhixiang came here. Qing Xia picked it up and took a sip, nodded, and said nothing.

“You…” Qin Zhixiang hesitated, thought for a moment, then said in a deep voice: “You should stop looking. We both should know in our hearts that even if we found him, it would only be a lonely grave.”

With a sharp crack, the white porcelain teacup was crushed by Qing Xia’s grip, sharp porcelain shards piercing her pale palm. Bright red blood slowly flowed out, staining her white linen sleeve.

Qin Zhixiang frowned and was about to bandage her wound when he heard the woman say coldly in a low voice: “Get out.”

The woman’s gaze immediately became terrifyingly fierce, carrying the stubbornness of refusing to face reality. Qin Zhixiang sighed, slowly shook his head, stood up, and walked out.

Qing Xia sat at the table, and only after all the hidden guards protecting the emperor had moved far away did her tears flow down line by line, tracing winding paths on her pale face.

Qin Zhiyan, they’re so cruel. You’ve only been gone for five years, and they’ve completely forgotten you. You clearly went to seek treatment for your illness, yet they always say you’re already dead.

Qin Zhiyan, in all the world, only I know – know that you will always return.

Only I know.

Mingyang Lake had somehow become a forbidden area of Pengyang, rarely visited by anyone, quiet like a desolate desert. The next day, Qing Xia packed her things, locked the door, led her horse, and went to Ruyun Tower again.

When she had returned last time, Cheng Xiao was already married. After all, Lian Zhou and Cheng Xiao had known each other for less than half a month, then he left without a word, with no news since then. Despite searching the ends of the earth, this fate was ultimately not meant to be.

When Cheng Xiao saw Qing Xia, she was very excited, holding her hand and talking endlessly. She was pregnant with a big belly and had become much more plump – this was her second child. Her previous son could already walk and was playing with marbles beside them. The restaurant business in front was still very good. Cheng Xiao’s husband was surnamed Du, a very honest and sincere man who would smile shyly whenever he saw Qing Xia, then enthusiastically go to the back kitchen to prepare food.