“Really?” Qing Xia’s eyes immediately brightened as she couldn’t help but grab Chu Li’s sleeve, excitedly saying, “What about taxation?”
“One in thirty.”
Qing Xia frowned and calculated briefly, then looked up with a smile, “That’s good. Let them taste some sweetness first. As long as we strictly control some important materials, the Xiongnu will become increasingly dependent on the Central Plains. Hmph, eating highland barley and living in felt tents—once they have the chance to eat white rice and live in tall houses and large mansions, I’d like to see who still wants to roll around on the grasslands.”
Chu Li laughed, “Is this your gradual assimilation and recovery plan?”
Qing Xia smiled, “It also requires the support of an enlightened ruler like you. Crossing the great oceans to grow tea, releasing horses at the northern seas to claim dominance—sooner or later, China’s banner will spread across the four seas and span the great oceans.”
Chu Li gripped Qing Xia’s hand with slight force, his expression unusually gentle. He pulled Qing Xia close and lightly kissed her forehead, his voice somewhat hoarse like night waves rustling on the shore: “You must stay by my side and wait for that day with me.”
Qing Xia leaned into Chu Li’s embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and taking a deep breath. The night wind was very cold, but somehow, she no longer felt the chill of traveling the desert alone as she had in the past. That warm touch on the back of her hand was like a mountain spring, washing away all her fatigue and hardship. A thousand sails had passed, ten thousand trees met spring again. Looking back suddenly, that person still stood behind the dim lights and shadows, quietly waiting and gazing, his eyes clear and penetrating, transcending thousands of waters and mountains.
She nodded gently, and Chu Li laughed with joy, saying, “Qing Xia, tomorrow we’ll return to the capital. After we get back, we’ll have our grand wedding, alright?”
A snow-white bird suddenly swept overhead, its white feathers carrying a warm, moist temperature. It circled back and forth above the great camp, then suddenly flapped its wings and landed on a tall mast, its posture graceful, carrying a trace of proud and lonely desolation. Its gaze was distant, as if overlooking the entire desert, yet when you looked at it, you felt as though it was looking directly at you.
Qing Xia was slightly startled, her eyes fixed on that bird. A gentle figure suddenly echoed before her eyes—that handsome face, those tranquil eyes, that soft mouth, and the reassuring fragrance of fritillary bulb that surrounded him—all flowing through her heart like scenes from a movie. Once upon a time, another man had said the same words to her on that brilliantly sunny, warm morning. She wore a phoenix crown and ceremonial robes, dressed in noble royal wedding attire, her cloud-like hair flowing free, her smile radiant, her entire being seeming reborn. They gazed at each other, agreeing to meet that evening when she would step through his door to become his wife, to be together for life, never to part.
But those changes and disasters came rushing like a torrential flood, shattering all dreams and hopes, leaving only those ethereal memories still stubbornly occupying her heart, constantly reminding her of that warm and fulfilling yet heart-wrenching past.
Some people, even when gone, will occupy your heart for a lifetime. Some people, even when departed, will become the most beautiful scenery in your life. Some people, even when they can no longer be reached, will forever drift through memory, becoming the warmest wind.
And some vows can never be broken.
“Qing Xia?”
Chu Li’s voice was very low, carrying a trace of caution, even nervousness. Qing Xia looked up at Chu Li, suddenly broke into a big smile, reached up to his shoulders, suddenly stood on her tiptoes to lightly kiss the man’s thin lips, then smiled and said, “Yes!”
Light flashed in Chu Li’s eyes—first shock, then disbelief, and finally wild joy. He swept Qing Xia up by the waist and spun around like a child. Qing Xia screamed in surprise and wasn’t put down for a long while. The breathless Chu Li buried his face in Qing Xia’s hair, his voice even carrying a trace of choking emotion as he repeatedly whispered, “Qing Xia, thank you, thank you.”
Tears suddenly fell from Qing Xia’s eyes, dropping onto the desolate desert sand where they were instantly absorbed by the dry grains. She could only forcefully embrace the man’s body, then bite her lip tightly to suppress the sob of moved grief that nearly escaped her throat.
“Qing Xia, there’s one more interesting thing,” Chu Li released Qing Xia’s shoulders, seeming so happy he was at a loss, making conversation as he said, “Those Xiongnu nobles, after hearing I agreed to trade with them, insisted on giving me a title. Can you guess what it is?”
Qing Xia’s eyes curved with a gentle smile as she teased, “It’s not Genghis Khan, is it?”
Chu Li frowned puzzledly, “What’s Genghis Khan?” But he immediately continued, “It’s actually quite amusing. They said that Great Chu’s willingness to trade with the northern Xiongnu is a tremendous blessing for the north, saving countless lives, so they want to call me the Northern Ci Heavenly Khan. I think it’s acceptable—I’ll discuss it with the ministers when we return to the capital.”
“Northern Ci?” Qing Xia laughed in amazement, “You killed so many Xiongnu people, yet you can still deserve that word ‘ci’ (compassion). These Xiongnu nobles will truly think of any method to survive.”
Chu Li asked, “Do you think it’s inappropriate?”
“There’s nothing inappropriate about it,” Qing Xia smiled. “The Xiongnu have suffered years of war, with people displaced and homeless. Even more die during disaster years. Though we killed many Xiongnu people this time, once we incorporate the Xiongnu into the Central Plains territory, teach them agriculture and commerce, impart knowledge of silk and sericulture, and dispatch officials to govern properly, who knows if it won’t be a benevolent act benefiting future generations in the north. So, carefully considered, you still deserve that word ‘ci.'”
Chu Li laughed heartily, his manner graceful and expression unrestrained, saying, “You always have the reason. Alright, it’s late—get some rest early. We’ll set out for the pass tomorrow.”
Qing Xia nodded, holding Chu Li’s hand and instructing, “You sleep early too. We still have to eat Le Song’s cooking tomorrow morning—just thinking about it makes my spine go cold.”
Chu Li laughed as he released Qing Xia’s hand, pushing her toward the tent. Qing Xia turned back, about to enter the tent when Chu Li suddenly called her name loudly. Qing Xia turned back puzzledly, and before she could see Chu Li’s face clearly, her lips were covered in a gentle, lingering, passionate kiss.
The moonlight was rich, the stars sparse. After a long while, Chu Li finally released the woman who was both pleased and annoyed, laughed heartily, turned, and walked toward his own tent.
Qing Xia stood before the tent, watching Chu Li’s figure gradually disappear into the thick night. Her gaze seemed frozen as she stared ahead persistently, as if seeing something, yet as if seeing nothing at all. The white bird perched on the mast flapped its wings, and white feathers drifted down with the wind, swaying and floating before settling gently into the dust.
“Go on,” Qing Xia looked up at the white bird, saying softly, “The desert has too much wind and sand—it doesn’t suit you. Find a better place.”
The white bird’s gaze was distant. Suddenly it cried sharply, flapped its wings, and flew away.
Qing Xia smiled faintly, turned, and entered the tent. The pain in her lower abdomen grew increasingly fierce, tearing through her organs like a heart-rending agony, as if sharp insects were pecking at her heart. Just enduring for this brief moment had already soaked the clothes on her back completely. She supported herself against the table, breathing deeply, leaning against the chair as her breathing became increasingly labored.
The road ahead was full of tribulations, and her days were numbered. Zhiyan, please forgive me for not being able to search for you anymore. I fear I would despair, and even if I found you, it would only leave regrets. It’s better to depart quietly with the fantasy that you’re still living well in some corner of this world, completing the last thing I can do before death.
Green seas and bamboo groves, clouds and mist dispersing—how much I loved you, only the accumulated yellow sands, sun, moon, and stars beyond the pass can bear witness for me. Yet how ridiculous—how much I love him is just the same as my love for you.
Yellow sand rising layer upon layer, the vast desert endless. Fortunately, this laughably bound and fettered life is about to end.
Qing Xia sat leaning in her chair, gently exhaling, slowly sighing. The oil lamp in the corner burned quietly, occasionally sparking. The wind outside grew stronger, stirring up accumulated yellow sand that beat against the cowhide tent, with light and shadows in the corners forming clumps of dark silhouettes.
All things were silent, a scene of desolation. Only the wind outside and the occasional harsh cries of eagles could be heard. Qing Xia lay against the desk as if she had fallen asleep. In the corners where the lamplight couldn’t reach, light footsteps slowly began to sound.
The plain-faced woman in green and white robes seemed to have lost her vigilance due to the torment of illness. She lay there softly, motionless.
Subtle breathing sounded softly, along with the faint friction of boots on the ground, a light fragrance of sesame flowers. Her ears twitched slightly—she could even hear the sound of braids hitting shoulders. A cold dagger reflected the firelight from the corner. Everything was very quiet, very quiet, like a leopard approaching its prey. However, suddenly the dagger flashed with cold light, striking directly at her throat!
In that split second, the sleeping woman who had been lying motionless against the desk suddenly sprang up. Hearing the sound and changing position, striking accurately, she used a small grappling technique to firmly grip the attacker’s wrist. With a crack, the hand bone dislocated. Qing Xia’s eyes were sharp and fierce as she snatched the opponent’s dagger with her reverse hand, her knee striking forward to hit the opponent’s lower abdomen. The opponent groaned muffled in pain and immediately bent over. Qing Xia grabbed the opponent’s hair, pulled hard, and instantly pressed the dagger to the attacker’s throat, shouting sternly, “Who are you?”
The lamplight flickered, shadows shifting. The attacker wore a green skirt, had fine braided hair, a pretty face and large eyes—it was actually Lie Yunji, the Seven Trees Witch they had parted from over a month ago!
“How is it you?” Qing Xia was greatly shocked. She quickly lowered the dagger and supported Lie Yunji’s shoulders, asking gravely, “What are you doing? What happened?”
Lie Yunji’s eyes were slightly unfocused, like those of a drunk person. The pain in her wrist made her consciousness slightly clearer. She looked at Qing Xia puzzledly, seeming not to know where she was.