He wanted to say more, but Qing Xia covered his mouth. The pale woman shook her head gently and slowly said, “You have saved me from danger several times—how could I let you come to harm? If anything happened to you, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”
Upon hearing these words, the Southern Chu Great Emperor, who had traveled across the Chinese continent for years with iron hooves treading over ten thousand li of mountains and rivers, suddenly trembled violently. He looked down in disbelief, frowning, his voice very soft, almost cautiously puzzled as he said, “Qing Xia?”
Qing Xia’s eyes suddenly felt dry. What exactly had she done in the past to make this so proud man so careful? The waves of time howled past between them, with too many uncontrollable scenes rising and swirling, reflecting their entangled past, as if the gods were deliberately playing tricks, creating so many storms and hardships. Finally, the dark clouds had dispersed. They were no longer young or impulsive, their hearts full of heaviness and dust, yet still unable to suppress those surging, erupting emotions. A complex sourness suddenly arose in her heart, too complicated for her to sort through the emotions within it hastily. There seemed to be guilt, heartache, sadness, pity, self-blame and resentment, and even more, the karmic cycle of fate’s cruel tricks that could not be escaped. He and she had long been like two lotus roots tied to the same silk thread—no matter how many waves washed over them, they would ultimately grow together.
She extended her thin, slender arms to warmly embrace his sturdy back, her voice carrying indescribable sadness and suppression, along with overflowing heartache, whimpering like a small animal: “Why are you so foolish? Knowing it was Yan Hui’s trap, yet still jumping into it so foolishly?”
This was the first time in her life that she had actively embraced him while fully conscious. Chu Li’s heart seemed to melt instantly. All those years of storms and hardships suddenly became like passing clouds, no longer able to seep into his heart and chill it. That soft arm seemed heavier and more secure than his ten-thousand-li kingdom. Eight years had passed in the blink of an eye—whose heart had quietly been left behind in the Lanting Hall eight years ago without knowing it? For this one embrace, he had waited far too long. This journey had been stumbling and extremely difficult, but finally, he could see the brilliant sun above the dark clouds.
Chu Li lowered his head, burying his face in her neck, breathing deeply, holding her tightly, his voice slightly hoarse as he slowly said, “Even if there was only a thread of hope, I could not give up.”
A tear finally fell from her dry eyes. Qing Xia tightened her arms, letting the tear fall on his broad, warm shoulder: “Fool.”
High atop the city tower, the Southern Chu Great Emperor and Southeast Governor Xia Qing embraced tightly. Suddenly, the Chu Emperor cupped the Southeast Governor’s face and kissed deeply. The entire Southern Chu army erupted in uproar, their exclamations shooting straight to the clouds!
A fierce wind suddenly rose, the thick fog dispersed instantly, and Qing Xia’s helmet fell to the ground. Her full head of flowing dark hair danced in the wind, gracefully floating like countless black butterflies. A delicate, gentle small face was filled with the soft radiance of feminine beauty. All the Southeast soldiers gasped in unison—the Southeast Governor who had led them in charges and battles all this way was actually a woman?
Chu Li’s eyes were bright as he tightly grasped Qing Xia’s hand, saying word by word, “Qing Xia, come back to the capital with me.”
Qing Xia nodded with a smile, her teeth white, her breath gentle, smiling tenderly: “Alright.”
The Southern Chu Great Emperor stood high atop the city tower, his robes fluttering, his eyebrows flying, laughing loudly to Southern Chu’s most elite soldiers, solemnly declaring, “Warriors! My Empress has returned!”
All the Southern Chu soldiers cheered in unison, their voices tearing through the sky, startling away the eagles circling above.
Far across the desert, a pure white camel stood quietly on a sand dune. The white-haired, bowed old man respectfully said to the green-robed young master on the camel’s back, “Master, it is time to go.”
The green-robed man slowly nodded, his expression calm, turned away, and gradually disappeared into the far reaches of the desert.
The morning sun was brilliant, like auspicious clouds.
After brief rest and reorganization in Loulan, they set out on the journey home.
Actually, with the allied forces’ strength that day, even with Chu Li’s elite fresh reinforcements joining, they still had the capability to fight. However, because of Qi An’s sudden death, the Eastern Qi remnants scattered in defeat, the Xiongnu fought independently, and Xichuan alone could not accomplish great things. Instead, they were scattered by the chaotic army, and in the confusion, were caught between Chu Li and Qing Xia’s pincer attack, suffering great losses.
The Battle of Loulan was a great victory for Southern Chu. Combined with Qing Xia’s month-long defense of Loulan, their casualties were no more than twenty thousand, yet they had eliminated approximately one hundred fifty thousand of the allied forces—truly a famous battle of victory against overwhelming odds. Qi An, Qi Yan, Nannu Chili’s Amutu, Jurchen Wanyan Shu, Tanta General Huoha, Xichuan commander Qiao Shisan, and many others were killed—the achievements were remarkable, shaking the world. Among the various allied armies, except for Northern Qin, which remained relatively passive on the periphery, all other sides suffered severe losses. Especially the northern Xiongnu—since the war occurred in Xiongnu heartland, combined with Yan Hui’s previous framing and Chu Li’s later furious massacre, the Xiongnu people were severely weakened, nine out of ten households empty, the land scorched. They were unable to recover for the next ten years and could no longer organize effective offensive campaigns against the Central Plains. To some extent, this also provided tremendous assistance for the great Northern Ci Emperor’s future campaigns beyond the frontier.
That evening, the Chu army advanced into the Longya Desert. The Battle of Loulan had eliminated too many of the enemy’s main combat forces, but Chu Li still dared not be too careless, since this area of Longya Desert had once been the garrison of Northern Qin’s flying general Lu Huayang.
The desert night was desolate. A woman in white robes rode out of the camp quietly, traveling for about half an hour until she saw a lonely memorial pagoda standing tall on a high sand dune. The woman dismounted and came before the pagoda, her palm lightly touching the ancient patterns on it, her eyes distant and dreamy, as if remembering many past events.
The wind of time stirred up yellow sand everywhere, beating against her white dress hem. She took a long flute from her horse’s saddlebags and quietly played the tune she had once played at the Wine God Festival. Those past events flowed through her mind like rippling water, stirring gentle waves. The desert was desolate, fragments of memory howled forth, everywhere filled with that person’s bright, warm sunlight.
Qin Zhiyan, how long has it been since I thought of you? All these years, I’ve traveled to the ends of the earth like a masterless wandering spirit, struggling to live in this world that doesn’t belong to me, never having a single day of happiness or joy. All along, you were like a great tree blocking over my head, shielding me from wind and rain, warming and sheltering me. But suddenly one day, you were gone, and only then did I clearly know how cruel and cold life would be without you, how difficult it would be for me alone to cope with those omnipresent dangers and hardships.
I still remember what you said at the Wine God Festival. You said you wanted to be with me forever, to take care of me, pamper me, protect me, not let me face wind and rain, not let me be bullied, not let me be sad, cry, or feel hurt—to let me always smile happily and live joyfully. You said you wanted to take me traveling through famous mountains and great rivers, to build a home together in scenic places, to have a beautiful child with me and watch him slowly grow up. You wanted to see what I would look like when old, when I would lose my teeth, when my hair would turn white, to lie under the sunshine holding my hand and fan me. You wanted to plant a yard full of vegetables with me, fertilizing and watering them ourselves, learning to make pastries, watching me wake up every morning and eat breakfast you made with your own hands. You wanted to spend a lifetime with me, and when I grew old, to hear you say that being with me this lifetime, you truly had no regrets.
I know everything you said came from your heart. It’s just a pity that you couldn’t do it, and neither could I. I traveled through thousands of mountains and rivers searching for you. Those long and lonely years gradually wore away all my fighting spirit and all my hope. I know you never intended to deceive—you just wanted me to live well. Everything you did in your life never harmed me in the slightest, and even at the end, you used all your strength to pave the road ahead for me.
Qin Zhiyan, you are the most wonderful man in this world. You are wise, gentle, like March spring light, carrying the rich fragrance of early spring that penetrates the heart. My debt to you cannot be repaid in this lifetime. I too wanted to be with you forever, cooking and washing for you, accompanying you to travel all the famous mountains and rivers in the world, with only you in my heart, loving only you with all my heart and soul. However, heaven plays tricks, fate is unfair. When I was most determined, you let go and left. In those long years ahead, I finally could no longer support myself alone. You once said your heart held only me, wanting me to lock the door tight inside and not let others enter. But you didn’t know that when you left, you split my heart in half, leaving it empty with nothing inside.
Qin Zhiyan, I still cannot be your Yima’er. I don’t want to search for you anymore. The world is too big, but I am too small. Finally, there are places my legs cannot reach, and now I no longer have this qualification.
Qin Zhiyan, I have fallen in love with someone else. From now on, I will stay by that person’s side. It’s been six years—I’m very tired and no longer young. I really want to find a place to rest properly.
The woman in white robes tilted her head back, her full head of dark hair dancing in the wind. Finally, she slowly crouched down, placed the emerald green long flute on the sand beneath the memorial pagoda, and turned to leave.
The long wind howled, slowly covering everything. Years passed roughly, past events scattered, leaving only half the flute exposed above the yellow sand.
When returning to camp, she saw someone standing straight at the entrance to the tent. Without getting closer, Qing Xia already knew who it was.