A hundred li southwest of the palace, surrounded by green mountains with the great river flowing like a ribbon, lay the tomb of Shu Shenhui’s maternal grandfather, the King of Wuyue.

Dowager Consort Zhuang’s brother had been enfeoffed as king in Dongyang years ago, some five or six hundred li away. Since Shu Shenhui had arrived quietly in disguise last night, that side naturally hadn’t received news yet, so there was no need for grand ceremonies. Early in the morning, accompanied by an executive official arranged by the Dowager Consort, the group of several dozen people set out for the royal tomb, arriving in the afternoon. The tomb guardian had received word from express messengers the night before and had already prepared all the necessary ritual implements for worship. After resting and changing clothes, Shu Shenhui brought Jiang Hanyuan into the royal tomb to perform the worship ceremony.

His maternal grandfather had died when he was young. The only time they’d spent together was when he was seven years old. At that time, his grandfather was old and gravely ill, and his father, the Emperor, showing consideration for his mother, consort, exceptionally allowed her to bring the prince south to visit family. He remembered staying for two months. Though they only spent two months together in total, and his grandfather passed away after he returned to the capital, the grandfather’s love and protection left a deep impression on Shu Shenhui that he has cherished to this day. This was why, after so many years, he had come here immediately upon arrival, disregarding travel fatigue to privately worship early this morning.

This wasn’t a ceremonial display for others to see, but his remembrance and respect for his deceased elder.

His expression was solemn and extremely earnest. Though Jiang Hanyuan didn’t know the King of Wuyue personally, she knew of his great achievements in protecting Jiangnan during turbulent times and shielding the people from the ravages of war. Having come here, she naturally also worshipped devoutly.

After the worship ceremony, evening was approaching. Since this place wasn’t close to the road back to the city, that night, following custom, they lodged at Merit Temple in the nearby mountains.

Every year, after royal family members came to worship ancestors, they would spend the night at Merit Temple and leave the mountains to return to the city the next day. So the temple had specially built more than ten meditation chambers to receive noble guests. Especially this time, with the current Regent Prince and his consort visiting, the reception was particularly thoughtful, with the abbot personally coming out to greet them.

The group entered the temple, had vegetarian meals, and as darkness fell quickly in the mountains, night soon arrived.

As they say, deep mountains and old temples are conducive to good sleep. Though Jiang Hanyuan didn’t feel particularly tired, with nowhere else to go, she wandered around nearby with Zhang Bao and two young novices, then returned and went to sleep early behind closed doors.

Though she and Shu Shenhui were husband and wife, being in a temple, it was naturally inappropriate for men and women to lodge together. She stayed in the western wing of the rear hall, a secluded place specially designated for women. Shu Shenhui resided in front, near the monks’ quarters where the abbot lived.

After finishing his service, Zhang Bao returned to Shu Shenhui’s side.

There was a monk here who played excellent chess. With nothing to do in the mountains at night, Shu Shenhui summoned him to brew tea and play chess. Before they knew it, the moon had reached the middle of the sky, and they finished with satisfaction.

After entering his room, he asked what the Princess Consort had done tonight.

Zhang Bao replied, “The Princess Consort only walked a few steps near the mountain gate after dinner and went to sleep early. The mountains are quiet—she should be sleeping soundly right now!”

After responding, seeing the Regent Prince also didn’t reply, he stood by the window gazing at the night sky, looking at the bright moon for a long time, not knowing what he was thinking. After a moment, he slowly lowered his head, closed the window, and said to go to sleep.

That night, the wind was clear and the moon bright. By this time, besides the mountain wind, one could only occasionally hear a few faint night owl calls from deep in the mountains, adding to the loneliness.

It was already deep night. Shu Shenhui lay on his bed, quietly closing his eyes, motionless, yet unable to fall asleep for a long time.

Zhang Bao, sleeping in the outer room, was probably too exhausted recently. As soon as he lay down, he snored like thunder, making it even more impossible for Shu Shenhui to sleep. After closing his eyes for another moment, he suddenly thought of the person Jiang Zuowang had sent to fetch her. It was said they would arrive by month’s end—only less than ten days remained.

His heart suddenly surged with irritation. He turned over and sat up, remained seated in the darkness for a moment, then got out of bed, felt around in the dark to put his clothes back on, passed by the continuously snoring young attendant, and opened the door. The door hinge turned with a “creak” that reached Zhang Bao’s ears.

Though he was asleep, years of night duty had trained him with instinctive reactions. Hearing the sound, he immediately woke up, opened his eyes, and vaguely saw that the Regent Prince seemed to have gone out. He immediately jumped down from his bed and chased after him, asking, “It’s so late—where is Your Highness going?”

Shu Shenhui had remembered that during chess, the abbot mentioned that tonight at the third quarter of the chou hour, river tides would surge through. At a riverside location several dozen li away stood an ancient pagoda, the best spot nearby for tide watching. He was truly unable to sleep due to Zhang Bao’s snoring, feeling restless and agitated. Calculating that there should still be time, he might as well go watch the night tide. He said this briefly, telling him to just go to sleep and not follow.

How could Zhang Bao be left behind? He hurriedly put on his boots and chased after him, saying he also wanted to accompany and serve. After walking a few steps, he remembered, “Doesn’t Your Highness want to bring the Princess Consort along?”

Shu Shenhui stopped, turned back to glance at him. “Why don’t you report to the Dowager Consort tomorrow and receive another reward?”

Zhang Bao shrank his neck, closed his mouth, and hurriedly followed.

Shu Shenhui brought two night-duty guards, summoned a monk who knew the way, and, with Zhang Bao, led horses from the stable. The group left through the temple’s back gate toward the riverside.

The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the path, but winding through the mountains for several dozen li took over half an hour. Before they could reach the riverside, calculating the time, tonight’s river tide should have already passed.

Watching the tide was merely a momentary whim anyway. After coming out, Shu Shenhui had little expectation. Now his interest waned even more. He gradually slowed his horse’s pace, finally reined in, and stopped on the mountain path under the moon.

The others noticed and all stopped, looking at the Regent Prince on horseback. The monk leading the way was terrified and dismounted to beg forgiveness.

Shu Shenhui sat on his horse, gazing ahead into the distance.

They were not far from the riverside below. He could faintly see the outline of the ancient pagoda, its pointed top towering high in the moonlight, appearing and disappearing like shadows.

The monk said that though tonight’s river tide had passed, the ancient pagoda had some significance. Not only was it quite old, but legend said auspicious energy gathered beneath the pagoda. After climbing to the top, it could protect one’s peace and safety.

Shu Shenhui wouldn’t believe such rural folklore. But having walked half the night to reach this place, he might as well climb to the top anyway—it wouldn’t be a wasted trip.

Yet he suddenly lost all interest. Just as he was about to turn around and head back, he heard Zhang Bao shout behind him, “Fire! It looks like the temple is on fire!”

Hearing this, Shu Shenhui turned back and indeed saw in the direction they’d come from, at the location of Merit Temple in the mountains, a mass of firelight shooting toward the sky. The fire seemed quite large. Being deep night with vast darkness all around, that single patch of red light was extremely conspicuous.

The firelight formed two points reflected and dancing in Shu Shenhui’s pupils. He thought of one person, and his heart seemed scorched by the firelight, suddenly tightening. Before the few people around him could react, he violently yanked his mount around and galloped toward the firelight.

The mountain wind was strong, and the fire borrowed the wind’s force, burning fiercely. His position seemed close to the temple—he could see it at a glance as if before his eyes—but the reality was different. The mountain paths were winding and tortuous. He wasn’t a deity who could ride clouds and mist. With this heavy flesh and blood body, how could he rush back in time? All he could do was spur his horse to gallop wildly, his hooves falling rapidly all the way, causing scattered stones to continuously roll down the mountainside, leaving those followers far behind.

Throughout this rushed return, his heart held only one hope—that the fire was far from her and she was safe and sound. However, the closer he got to the mountain temple, the more remote this hope seemed. When he finally rushed back, leaped down from his horse, and charged through the temple gates, he could see everything. The place on fire was nowhere but the rear temple area where she was staying. Wind carried roaring flames, sweeping wildly in all directions. Amid the chaotic shouting that filled his ears, he saw monks with panicked expressions carrying buckets and basins, running back and forth with water. But the water they splashed was like a drop in the ocean against the raging fire, instantly evaporating. The abbot was supported by several monks, standing nearby. Some monks stamped their feet, some wailed, some chanted Buddha’s name. Seeing him, they stumbled over to kneel before him. They said something about mice gnawing through candles in the rear hall, burning the main hall, then quickly spreading to nearby wing rooms.

He paid no attention to what these monks were saying, nor did he want to listen. His gaze tensely swept over the chaotic figures swaying before him, anxiously searching for the person he wanted to see. Then he saw Liu Xiang striding toward him.

“Where is the Princess Consort! Where is she?” Shu Shenhui roared.

One hope had already been shattered. The only remaining hope in his heart now was that she had already escaped and was now waiting in a safe place without firelight.

However, Liu Xiang’s response made his heart sink again, as if falling into icy depths.

Among those who had escaped the fire, the Princess Consort was nowhere to be seen, along with the two subordinates responsible for guarding her western wing quarters tonight.

“After the fire started, I searched everywhere for the Princess Consort, but the western wing was too close to the rear hall and was downwind. The fire spread too quickly. I led men to charge in several times, but couldn’t find her. Later, the smoke and fire became too intense—there was no way—”

His face was covered with smoke stains, his hair and beard were singed, and his throat was hoarse from the smoke.

Shu Shenhui pushed him away and, amid the shocked cries behind him, rushed through a burning beam that swayed precariously, running toward where she had been staying.

As Liu Xiang had said, the fire had completely engulfed the entire rear hall and nearby wing room area—a sea of flames. Sparks continuously fell from the air. Getting slightly closer, one faced rolling waves of scorching heat that made hair stand on end, opened every pore, and forced burning heat to penetrate the skin.

“A Yuan! A Yuan!”

“Jiang Hanyuan!”

Shu Shenhui remembered that call he had made before and shouted again with all his might.

But this time, no one responded. Only smoke mixed with sparks rolled toward him with the wind. He began coughing violently.

Liu Xiang and other guards rushed up. “Your Highness, retreat quickly! The fire here is too intense!”

Where exactly was she? Could she be sleeping so deeply that she was now trapped in the sea of fire and had already lost her life?

His eyes were forced nearly shut by the smoke, fire, and heat. His eyebrows and hair seemed about to be scorched by the fierce flames. His skin felt needle-like burning pain all over. In his heart arose a fear that seemed familiar yet now felt even more heart-piercing than before.

He was tightly gripped by this fear.

He regretted why he had inexplicably left her tonight. If he hadn’t, if he had been here, then after discovering the fire, he could have rushed over in time, instead of being helpless like tonight.

He saw another guard rush up, draped in a soaked, thick felt. He grabbed it, quickly looked around to determine direction, wrapped the wet felt around his head and face, held his breath, and charged toward a gap in the burning area.

The building hadn’t collapsed yet, and inside wasn’t completely burned. She might just be unconscious from smoke inhalation.

He was right here. If he didn’t go in to see for himself, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

“Your Highness, come back!” Liu Xiang shouted hoarsely, desperately chasing with his men to stop him.

“Your Highness—” “Your Highness—”

“Your Highness!”

Amid these chaotic, exhausted cries of “Your Highness,” Shu Shenhui suddenly heard a woman’s voice.

This cry of “Your Highness” was like the clearest and deepest sound suddenly emerging from a cacophony of mixed bells, suppressing all other noise, striking his eardrums, and reaching straight to his heart.

His heart jumped.

He stopped before the firelight, turned around, and saw a figure rushing toward him.

“Your Highness, come back—”

Jiang Hanyuan raised her full voice, shouting toward the blurred figure before the firelight.

After lying down tonight, she had been calculating in her mind the day Fan Jing would arrive. If nothing unexpected happened, it should be the month’s end—only seven or eight days left. She really couldn’t sleep, so she remembered what the young novice had said during their evening walk about an excellent tide-watching ancient pagoda several dozen li away. On impulse, she got up and, together with two personal guards, left the temple, rode to find the way, and walked half the night to finally locate that riverside ancient pagoda. She climbed to the top to face the wind and watch the wild tide at night.

When the night tide surged past and the river surface gradually calmed, after watching the tide, she still didn’t want to return. She simply climbed to the pagoda’s peak and sat alone, leaning against the high spire. Facing the night wind and looking in all directions, she unexpectedly discovered firelight from the temple’s direction. She rushed back, and upon entering the temple, heard people saying the Regent Prince was looking for her everywhere.

“Your Highness!”

“Your Highness, come back—”

He paused for a moment, then suddenly tore off the wet felt, turned around, and ran quickly toward her.

He ran before her, opened his arms, and embraced her, immediately gathering her into his arms.

Thus, under the gaze of those around them, he held her tightly, lowered his head, pressed his face against her hair, and remained motionless.

His arm strength was so great that Jiang Hanyuan felt her ribs might be crushed by him, causing dull pain. Not only that, she also smelled the smoky scent clinging to his hair and skin, and felt his violently pounding heartbeat beneath his chest.

She let her hands fall and quietly allowed him to hold her like this. After a moment, feeling him finally move slightly and slowly release her, he instead grasped her hand and strode outward with her.

Liu Xiang and others all helped extinguish sparks on each other’s hair and bodies, then quickly followed them out of the fire scene.

Just after the group emerged, shortly after, accompanied by a sudden gust of wind, the fire-damaged rear hall and wing rooms collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Jiang Hanyuan spent the remaining hours of that night in Shu Shenhui’s monk cell. He ordered her not to come out and to sleep, with Liu Xiang standing guard.

Outside, monks knelt on the ground begging forgiveness. After he went out, he arranged personnel for firefighting. By dawn, the fire was finally extinguished. Fortunately, no one died, though four or five monks were burned. After he returned and rested briefly, without further delay, he immediately brought Jiang Hanyuan down the mountain to return.

On this return journey, Jiang Hanyuan found him unusually silent. Several times, she felt he seemed to be looking at her, but when she turned to look at him, he avoided her gaze.

Her mood was also confused. Last night’s unexpected fire had also left her emotionally turbulent. Yet besides silence, she seemed to have nothing to say at this moment.

They returned to the palace that afternoon. Just as they climbed the mountain steps, they saw yesterday’s executive eunuch hurrying to greet them. After paying respects, he smiled and said, “Your Highness Princess Consort, General Fan from Yanmen has arrived!”

Jiang Hanyuan was startled and stopped on the steps.

Just last night, she had calculated Fan Jing’s arrival date, thinking it would be the month’s end. She hadn’t expected him to arrive early. Not only that, but so many days early—he had already arrived today!

She should have felt joy at this. Yet somehow, perhaps still not having recovered from last night’s unexpected fire, at this moment, hearing this sudden unexpected news, her heart seemed to feel no joy at all.

She instinctively turned her head to look at the person walking alongside her. She saw he had also suddenly stopped and turned to look at her. The two were silently gazing at each other when suddenly another loud, joyful voice came from ahead: “Little lady general! I’m late—don’t blame me!”

Jiang Hanyuan looked up to see a bearded man led by several palace attendants hurrying down the palace steps toward her.

It was Fan Jing, Uncle Fan.

She came to her senses and quickly walked up with a smile. “Uncle Fan! How did you arrive today?”

Fan Jing was beaming, about to answer, when he saw the person beside her. He paused, composed his smile, quickly walked before that person, performed a grand bow, and respectfully said, “This officer, Yanmen Camp Fan Jing, pays respects to His Highness the Regent Prince!”

The Regent Prince had seen Fan Jing during his early border inspections. Though he no longer looked young, his facial features were roughly the same, with only his temperament having changed. Fan Jing naturally recognized him at first glance.

Shu Shenhui’s gaze fell on this visitor from Yanmen. Slowly, he showed a smile, told him to rise, and not only that, actually extended his arm to support him virtually, helping him up from the ground.

“General Fan needn’t be so formal,” he said.

Fan Jing was extremely surprised.

He was merely one among the many mid- and low-ranking generals in Yanmen, usually not particularly notable. For the Regent Prince to treat him with such courtesy upon first meeting was overwhelming. He quickly thanked him repeatedly, saying he didn’t dare accept such treatment.

Shu Shenhui looked at him again. “Didn’t they say General Fan wouldn’t arrive for several more days?”

Though Fan Jing had met him years ago and retained an excellent impression, so many years had passed. Things were different now—he was the Regent Prince, his authority incomparable to his early years. Yet unexpectedly, after all these years, he remained as cordial as before.

Fan Jing relaxed and explained, “This officer was ordered by the General to fetch the lady general. Fearing delay of Your Highness’s important business here, I traveled day and night, arriving several days early.”

Shu Shenhui’s expression remained smiling. “I understand. General Fan’s loyalty is commendable, and you’ve worked hard. Have you met my mother consort?”

Fan Jing respectfully replied, “This officer arrived this morning and was fortunately granted an audience with the Grand Dowager Consort. She spoke kindly and even provided a meal. This officer is extremely grateful.”

Shu Shenhui nodded slightly and turned to Jiang Hanyuan, who had remained silent. “You and General Fan must have things to discuss. I won’t disturb you.”

After speaking, he strode inside.

Fan Jing watched the Regent Prince’s figure disappear gracefully. Only after he could no longer see him did he withdraw his gaze and sincerely praise Jiang Hanyuan, “The Regent Prince’s bearing surpasses his former years even more!”

Jiang Hanyuan smiled and led him inside, asking about everyone back home.

Fan Jing said everyone was well, adding that just a month after she left, Yang Hu and the others kept asking him every few days when she would return. Knowing he was coming to fetch her, they were all very happy.

Jiang Hanyuan smiled. “I also miss them quite a bit.”

With no outsiders present, Fan Jing smiled. “I know you, little lady general, have your heart set on Yanmen. After being away for three or four months, you’re probably thinking of returning day and night. Uncle Fan was afraid you’d wait too long, so I rushed to arrive today. When I met the Dowager Consort earlier, I specifically mentioned that you have important matters in the military camp, so the Dowager Consort wouldn’t think you were unwilling to stay. Little lady general, have you decided when to depart?”

Jiang Hanyuan pondered for a moment and said, “Uncle Fan, since you’ve arrived early, let’s depart as soon as possible. With elders present, I’ll first go speak with the Dowager Consort.”