The crowd gradually dispersed, growing more and more distant, until gradually their voices could no longer be heard.
“Be honest and speak quickly—what is this place? How many guards are there? Where are the exits?”
The woman’s clear, cold voice rang out right beside his ear. The two were so close, crouched in the enormous water jar, almost embracing each other tightly.
Chu Li’s brow furrowed tightly, his eyes gazing deeply into the pitch-black darkness ahead. His breath could even catch her fresh scent. He slowly reached out his hand, wanting to touch the woman’s face. As for her questioning, he seemed unable to hear it, only persistently wanting to reach out and touch her.
“Speak quickly!” The woman’s hand immediately applied pressure, fiercely gripping his neck as she said harshly, “How far is this place from Ronghua Palace? Is the Chu Emperor still in the palace? Has he left East Qi? If you don’t cooperate…”
The threatening words suddenly couldn’t be spoken. The pale woman froze like a puppet, her mouth slightly agape in surprise, her eyes wide open. The man’s hand gently cupped her face, a faint warmth slowly transmitting from above. Those slender fingers, even the fine calluses on his palm, were all so familiar.
The dark clouds finally scattered, and the moon broke through, casting clear, cold moonlight that bathed everything in pale radiance.
In the enormous Ronghua Palace, in the declining northwestern corner’s Imperial Academy corridor, in a water jar, a man and woman sat facing each other, their gazes complex, myriad emotions surging, all transformed into wordless silence.
Time flowed on. In the mysterious depths, star charts constantly shifted, years roared past in their gallop, how much dust of the past drifted by, sweeping across today’s graying hair.
In the blink of an eye, five years had passed—over a thousand days and nights had written that piece of fate-teasing white jade on time’s scroll.
Mountains cannot all stand tall simultaneously; how could the stars Shen and Shang forever remain apart?
The clear, cold moonlight scattered across the long corridor—blue stone-paved floors, wooden walkways, supporting tiles and debris—everything here proclaimed this place’s desolation and decay. Eight years ago, Great Qi had expanded Ronghua Palace, extending eastward over twenty li, with palaces standing in forests, flourishing flowers and stones, leopard gardens, crane gardens, Tinglan Courtyard, Haicun—arranged in rows, exquisitely crafted, magnificent and splendid, achieving the utmost in luxury. But this Imperial Academy courtyard from seventeen years ago had long since fallen into decline. Apart from cleaning servants, only roosting crows would occasionally fly overhead.
The long wind blew from the lengthy pathway, lifting the flying corners of their robes and their full heads of black hair, like entangled butterfly wings, intertwining together.
Qing Xia wore a blood-stained white shirt, her beautiful hair scattered, her eyes like water with flashing sharpness, great waves rolling—too many emotions mixed together. Even though she tried to conceal them, inadvertent glimmers of light still leaked through. On this pitch-black night, on this dilapidated corridor where neither side had any psychological preparation, a man and woman stood quietly like this. In a trance, thousands of words seemed impossible to begin.
The wind grew stronger, the moonlight flickering bright and dim. All around, hundred grasses swayed, insect sounds grew loud, and birds flapped their pitch-black wings, swooping across Ronghua Palace’s sky. Years cycled, time passed swiftly—in a turn of the eye, yesterday’s mischievous children had grown up. They stood in the darkness of night, gazing at each other, with so many years of bonds and entanglements flowing past with time’s roaring passage in their exchanged looks.
Chu Li’s expression changed dramatically several times. Countless questions and joy finally transformed into a long sigh. He slowly turned around, saying softly, “Follow me.”
Qing Xia stood in place without moving, as if weathered into stone. Chu Li walked two steps, then turned back to look at the pale-faced woman in the darkness. Then he slowly removed the black satin cloak from his shoulders, reached around her neck, and draped it over her back.
“The night wind is strong.” The man’s voice was low and deep. After saying these four words, he spoke no more. Seeing the woman with her head lowered, he actually reached out and grasped her pale, slender palm.
Instantly, it was as if an electric current surged through Qing Xia’s entire body. That slender, large hand, though not particularly warm and even somewhat cold, grasped hers with such firmness, so naturally, as if they had done this thousands of times before.
Five years passed in a finger’s snap, and the entire land of China underwent tremendous changes.
She was no longer that initially sharp and decisive, frost-filled, proudly aloof woman. He was no longer that initially unruly, ruthless, iron-blooded sovereign.
Time’s tempering had made them both shed their youthful inexperience, instead donning mature composure. Only in their hearts remained that patch of softness no one could disguise, step by step compelling them to walk to today’s situation.
Two people, hand in hand, walked step by step through Ronghua Palace’s western Imperial Academy corridor under night’s curtain. The night’s cold wind blew against them, just like many years before. Only now, things remained but people had changed. That once delicate, naive girl had been defeated on power’s battlefield, leaving behind this shell containing too much longing for that sharp, decisive woman to complete what should have been a happy and fulfilling life.
In the mysterious depths, no one knew which hand was directing this merciless fate.
With a creak, dust immediately scattered everywhere. The long-neglected wooden door made a harsh sound. Chu Li lifted his leg and stepped over the threshold. This doorstep that had seemed so high years ago could now be easily crossed with a simple lift of his foot.
The great hall was pitch-black. Chu Li took out his flint, lit a palace lamp, then turned to look at the thin, frail woman in white at the doorway.
Qing Xia looked at him, her heart suddenly feeling as if someone had grasped it tightly. She suddenly remembered that time in the isolated imperial tomb, when the white-robed man smiled faintly standing beside her, saying softly: “This corridor was exactly 2,677 steps long then, with 400 candlestands. Who would have thought that revisiting this old place now, it takes less than a thousand steps to walk through. Unfortunately, I had no flint with me then, and in a whole month, I never once lit the candles here. From then on, no matter where I went, I always carried this thing with me.”
Qing Xia’s eyes suddenly became moist. She gently bit her lip, looking at the black-robed man across from her, unconsciously taking two steps backward.
Chu Li looked at her with a composed expression, watching her unconscious movement. His heart ached slightly. Though it was only two steps’ distance, in his eyes it seemed so far away.
This great hall was very large, with several small desks placed individually in the hall’s center, like a students’ classroom. Chu Li walked with great familiarity to a small desk near the back and sat down. His tall frame sitting there appeared somewhat comical, but he still sat there, seemingly in good spirits.
This great hall had double doors. The outer door was already closed, and even though the hall hadn’t had a fire for a long time, it was still much warmer. Qing Xia, wearing Chu Li’s cloak, leaned against the inner hall’s door pillar, suddenly feeling so very tired. Now that she had finally seen him and knew he was safe and sound, completely unharmed, her heart immediately became peaceful. Overwhelming tides of exhaustion surged up like layered waves. She slowly sat down, leaning against the door pillar, sitting on the threshold that was intentionally made slightly higher to display imperial majesty.
Chu Li’s body trembled suddenly. Hundreds of images flashed through his mind—a small child in colorful clothes with twin buns, chin propped up, sitting on the high threshold, chubby little feet swinging back and forth, adorably watching the boy inside who was reading, waiting for him to occasionally turn around and playfully make a funny face.
“Have you been well these years?”
The low voice slowly rang out from ahead. Qing Xia leaned against the door pillar, her face pale, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a slight smile, with the emotion of vast changes over time. Well or not well? Such a simple question, yet she suddenly didn’t know how to answer.
“Before Qin Zhiyan left, he came to South Chu once.”
Qing Xia was immediately startled upon hearing this, but she didn’t speak, only gradually furrowing her brow, her eyes slanting as she looked at the back of the man ahead.
Chu Li’s voice was gentle, like stream water flowing silently and slowly: “He said he had found traces of the Shangqiu clan and might be gone for a long time. He entrusted me to take care of you.”
Qing Xia slowly closed her eyes, pressed her forehead against the door pillar, and tightly pursed her lips. A single clear tear slowly fell, flowing down her pale cheek and sliding into her mouth.
“I sent people to investigate for several years but could never find the slightest clue. With his seven-chambered exquisite heart, if he doesn’t want to be found, probably truly no one can find him. You shouldn’t exhaust yourself too much either. Let nature take its course—perhaps someday there will be a chance to meet again.”
Qing Xia took a deep breath and lifted her head, saying, “Thank you for being willing to tell me these things.”
“No need,” Chu Li said. “I accepted this responsibility. If I haven’t fulfilled it, that’s already a breach of trust.”
Qing Xia suddenly remembered Qi’an’s words. She wanted to ask but ultimately didn’t voice the question. The wind outside blew through the dilapidated door panels and window frames, hitting both their shoulders and lifting their black hair. Qing Xia pressed her lips together tightly and finally said, “Chu Li, you have finally conquered East Qi. I should congratulate you.”
Chu Li laughed lowly, his laughter slightly bitter, but didn’t answer.
The atmosphere was so silent, with wordless awkwardness lying between them. It had always seemed to be like this. Qing Xia leaned against the door pillar, gazing at this room’s faint lamplight, not knowing why Chu Li had brought her here.
As if through psychological connection, the black-robed man suddenly said in a low voice: “This is the Imperial Academy. When I was small, I studied here with Qi’an and the others. The Qing Xia of those days would sit in the position where you are now, waiting every day for Master Zhuang to finish class.”
Qing Xia was startled, then heard Chu Li continue: “The corridor where you sat before is where Qing Xia and I first met. She was also sitting where you sat, and when she heard me running over, she suddenly jumped in front of me and gave me quite a fright. The water jar where we just stayed—we often played there as children. Once we went in and couldn’t get out, and the palace people forgot about us. We stayed in there an entire night. It was autumn then, the weather was already very cold, and afterward we were both sick for over ten days.”