She was that little soldier who had once guided him years ago.

When Shu Shenhui heard Chen Heng speak those words to her, he suddenly understood. Yet he dared not believe such a thing could happen to him until he saw the jade pendant.

This jade pendant was his—he recognized it at first glance. Its tassels were purple and yellow, engraved with the characters “Anle,” uniquely his. However, to him, it was not any particularly precious treasure. He had carried it with him during his northern inspection tour that year, and on that day, on a whim, he had removed it and tossed it to a Yanmen soldier he encountered by chance, as payment for guiding him.

How could this be possible? That little soldier he had never thought of again afterwards turned out to be her.

What virtue or ability did he possess that something he had casually thrown away could be treasured by her for so many years until today?

What incredible fortune was his that the “he” from her drunken dreams, who had made him jealous for so long, that youth she spoke of meeting at thirteen when they parted at Yunluo Ancient Road last year, was himself!

In the secluded scripture hall, surrounded by darkness with only one candle burning quietly, casting a dim yellowish glow in one corner, the spider spun its web beside him. He clutched the jade pendant in his palm and sat down in this pool of light in the northwest corner pavilion, sitting on the ground with his head against the wall, slowly closing his reddened eyes.

Long ago, when he was seventeen, they had already met.

The person in her heart was no one else but him.

This thought surged like waves, continuously rushing from his heart, washing over his chest. In his mind also appeared the image of that little soldier from years past, her appearance at thirteen.

Dark and thin, silent, only reaching the height of his horse’s back, but with a pair of clear, bright eyes that carried a touch of refinement.

Now that he connected the person in his memory with her, he couldn’t imagine—even if she had grown up later, grown taller, and changed greatly in temperament, making him unable to immediately connect her with that little soldier from years past—how on that day had he mistaken her for a young man?

He still remembered how he had called to her as she emerged from the opposite direction, and she walked along the small path to the front of his horse, looking up at him slightly.

Facing such a pair of eyes that couldn’t hide their delicate beauty, he hadn’t recognized that the one he had called was a girl.

He was truly blind!

The corners of Shu Shenhui’s mouth unconsciously lifted a bit more, while his eyes grew even redder.

He also remembered the trip to Xianquan Palace, that night of hunting and camping when he talked with Chen Lun, mentioning his journey to Ling Qiu years ago and that guide soldier. At that time, she was right across from them, separated only by the campfire.

The person from the past was right before his eyes, yet he knew nothing, even lamenting about how time ages people—now thinking back, he felt quite ashamed. She had heard it then, and he wondered what she thought. He remembered that night he was in excellent spirits and mood—perhaps his good mood was also because she was nearby, because at that time, unknowingly, he was already attracted to her. While he appeared to be drinking and chatting with Chen Lun, he was secretly paying attention to her. Several times their gazes met, and she always quickly looked away. How could he have imagined that at that time, he was already in her heart—ever since she met him at thirteen, she had never forgotten him.

The spider accompanied him, silently busy overhead. After that initial wave-like impact passed, another subtle, silent sense of happiness, like this quiet candlelight in the corner, enveloped his entire being.

He sat thus with closed eyes, leaning in the corner beneath the spider web, not knowing how much time passed when new commotion came from outside the scripture hall, as if the young emperor Shu Jian had also arrived.

He remained motionless, and his slightly upturned lips slowly drooped down.

She had sent this old jade pendant along with an appointment-not-not—not for him, but an appointment sent to that youth, awakening his long-buried memories.

Only then did he remember that he, too, had once had such spirited and proud times.

But he was no longer the youth of yesteryear, and he could no longer find his former state of mind. His heart was full of weariness, aged before his time, with a countenance that even he found detestable.

The mountains remained as beautiful as ever. Yesterday’s youth had grown old today.

Could he, Shu Shenhui, still have the chance to become that seventeen-year-old self again, trampling enemy blood with his horse, galloping across a thousand mountains, becoming again that youth who had captured her heart at first sight and whom she never forgot?

Outside the scripture hall, Chen Lun saw the young emperor rush in frantically, asking about the Regent Prince with an alarmed expression. Startled and puzzled, not knowing why he had suddenly come here, Chen Lun said he was inside the scripture hall. He watched the young emperor sigh in relief and stride inside, pushing the door open with a bang. Just as he was about to continue inward, apparently seeing that shadowy figure sitting in the corner pavilion, he stopped, and finally slowly retreated, closing the door.

He stood outside the door for a long time, head lowered, then slowly walked away.

The sky gradually brightened, approaching dawn. In the distance came the clear and melodious sound of morning bells, their echoes reverberating as the birds roosting in the mountains seemed to awaken all at once, chattering in competition. The outline of the scripture hall gradually became clearer in the misty dawn light.

Yet there was still no movement inside, with no sign of Prince Qi appearing.

Chen Lun had kept watch outside all night and gradually grew worried. Chen Heng was also becoming anxious. Seeing that it was already light and unable to restrain himself any longer, he was about to knock on the door when, accompanied by the low creaking sound of door hinges, the door opened and Shu Shenhui appeared behind it.

His complexion appeared somewhat pale with a faint layer of blood vessels visible in his eyes, but his gaze looked extremely bright—Chen Lun hadn’t seen him with such eyes for a long time.

He completely exhaled in relief.

Shu Shenhui nodded slightly to him, turned to Chen Heng, also nodding in thanks, and stepped outside. He walked out of the scripture hall and went to the front of Luohan Hall, where he saw a youthful figure beneath the gnarled branches of old cypresses.

He seemed to have been lingering here for a long time, pacing with a lowered head. Suddenly looking up, he encountered himself emerging from the scripture hall. He stepped forward, running in this direction, but when he was almost there, his pace slowed, finally stopping by the path.

“Third Imperial Uncle…”

The youth murmured his name, his face full of shame. Opening his mouth as if he had much to say, yet meeting his gaze, not daring to look directly, he lowered his head and stopped.

Shu Shenhui stood for a moment, passed by the youth, and continued walking outward. Just as he was about to exit, the youth caught up.

“Third Imperial Uncle! I was wrong—”

He chased for several steps, shouting at the retreating figure ahead, his knees hitting the ground as he knelt.

Shu Shenhui slowly stopped, stood still for a moment, turned back, and looked at that youth kneeling distantly in the middle of the path.

“Govern the court well. I will guard Great Wei’s borderlands.”

He stepped forward, walking faster and faster until his figure disappeared into the depths of the morning mist.

He left Chang’an at dawn, heading north. When he departed, Chang’an was in the midst of summer. Gradually approaching Yanmen, the wind and smoke grew denser daily, and autumn dew quietly descended.

On this day, he arrived at Yanmen.

The northern war was over, with some troops withdrawn. The first batch of soldiers returning from the front lines had already reached Yanmen. Fan Jing had also returned from the western pass on Jiang Hanyuan’s orders and temporarily taken charge of military and administrative affairs.

In recent days, this border city with a total population of less than ten thousand has become as lively as a festival, filled with a joyous and peaceful atmosphere.

Yes, for many years, this had been the frontline where the Central Plains imperial court confronted the powerful northern enemy. Warfare had become part of life for the people here, repeatedly rebuilding homes destroyed by war, endless separations and deaths that seemed to have no end. Those who could leave had already gone; those who couldn’t could only endure.

From now on, this would no longer be a borderland. There would be no more warfare, no need to worry about raids. They could confidently build pig pens and sheep sheds, venture farther to cultivate more fields, marry, have children, and live peaceful lives. How could this not bring mad joy? When soldiers walked the streets, they would be stopped by civilians—some offering homemade food and newly made shoes, others asking when General Changning would return.

Shu Shenhui wore a bamboo hat and common clothes, walking unremarkably among the people with no one paying him attention.

He wanted to find Fan Jing to ask about Jiang Hanyuan’s specific location. As he neared the prefect’s residence, passing a street corner, he heard soldiers telling the surrounding people about how General Changning showed wisdom and strategy on the battlefield, how she led by example. Unable to help himself, he stopped.

That soldier was quite eloquent, speaking vividly and creating an immersive experience, as if one could see thousands of troops in chaotic battle, endless forests of spears and rain of arrows, with General Changning charging ahead courageously. The surrounding people listened with gasps and exclamations, sometimes sweating nervously for the female general, sometimes with blood boiling. When they heard about finally breaking through positions and capturing the southern capital, everyone cheered loudly with thunderous applause.

Shu Shenhui smiled beneath his hat, deeply sharing in the honor.

Though his heart always harbored some trepidation, and indeed, the closer he got to her, the more he felt a timid reluctance to meet her. He knew his current self was probably not her beloved and was even less worthy. But thinking that the ground beneath his feet was not far from her, that desire to approach her suddenly became even more urgent.

Even if he could only see her from afar, he would be completely satisfied.

The prefect’s office was just ahead.

He stepped forward, about to continue, when a fast horse came from behind. The soldier on horseback seemed to have come a long distance from the front lines, carrying a message tube, loudly calling for pedestrians to make way. He galloped to the front of the office gate and, before his horse could even stop properly, leaped down and hurried inside.

Shu Shenhui looked up toward the door that the messenger had just rushed through, his smile gradually disappearing.

He had a premonition that something unexpected had happened.

Without hesitation, he immediately stepped forward and hurried to follow.