The Empress had been missing for six years now.

It happened in the winter of Jianning’s fourth year.

During the winter sacrifices, the Empress didn’t appear. At the time, the court officials were somewhat puzzled but merely thought the Empress might be feeling unwell.

It wasn’t until the New Year’s grand banquet when the Empress still didn’t appear that the court officials realized something was wrong. On the spot, over ten officials stood up to question the Emperor: where was the Empress?

Some female family members even covered their heads and charged toward the rear palace.

The banquet descended into chaos, and even the Imperial Guard had to come out to maintain order.

The Emperor could only explain to everyone that the Empress had important matters and had gone out.

That black-faced, rather frightening Commander Ding of the Imperial Guard also confirmed the Empress had gone out. Combined with the Empress’s cousin, Princess Huimin—Lady Chu Tang, Editor of the Hanlin Academy—apologizing to everyone on the Empress’s behalf, saying the matter was so urgent they had no choice but to conceal it from everyone.

The Empress going out wasn’t unusual. Previously, the Empress had often gone out on military campaigns.

Though… they hadn’t heard of any wars breaking out anywhere?

Although there had been conflicts between local officials and aristocratic families in some places, and it was said to have gotten quite serious, once the troops surrounded them with drawn swords, things settled down within a few days.

Perhaps the Empress needed to appear personally to provide comfort.

If it had been only the Emperor saying this, people would have harbored doubts. But with both the Imperial Guard and Chu Tang confirming it, everyone relaxed—compared to the Emperor, they trusted these two more.

This trip out became permanent—the Empress never returned, as if she had vanished.

However, no one pressed the Emperor for answers anymore, because they saw the Imperial Guard operating as usual, and Lady Chu Tang had even been transferred to the Censorate.

Moreover, the Emperor had reached twenty years of age, yet the rear palace still hadn’t added any new people.

Whether the Empress was present or not made no difference, so why expose the truth? They could simply act as if the Empress was always there, and let things continue this way.

As Ding Dachui walked out of the palace, he saw Zhu Yong and Chu Tang approaching.

Neither looked particularly happy.

Zhu Yong came from the Hanlin Academy. Though he wore the Imperial Guard’s intimidating python-patterned robe, even when entering prisons to interrogate criminals, his expression remained gentle.

Chu Tang needn’t be mentioned—a charming young woman who, though transferred to the Censorate, relied on her writings to submit impeachment memorials based on hearsay. No matter how severely she verbally attacked her opponents with her brush, her face always remained gentle and pleasant.

What had happened to make these two smiling tigers stop smiling?

“Lord Ding.” Seeing Ding Dachui, both saluted in greeting.

These two were both confidants of the Empress. Ding Dachui’s expression softened somewhat as he asked: “What are you two doing?”

Zhu Yong said: “Lady Chu wants to abuse her power for personal gain. This official is asking her to write an impeachment memorial against me first.”

Chu Tang sneered from the side: “Lord Zhu is holding others’ secrets, waiting to sell them to the highest bidder. This official is asking him to go give His Majesty a price.”

Scholars’ words were always so complicated. Ding Dachui frowned and said: “This year’s provincial women’s examinations were blocked again?”

Zhu Yong replied: “Haste makes waste. One must convince people through reason, not by killing everyone who stands in the way.”

Chu Tang countered: “An arrow once shot cannot return. Strike while the iron is hot—the first attempt succeeds, the second weakens, the third fails.”

Ding Dachui didn’t want to listen anymore and waved his hand: “Go, go. Go see His Majesty.”

The two courteously saluted him before continuing inward.

Watching them walk side by side, officials entering and exiting the palace gate cast glances their way. Though six years had passed, seeing women in official robes walking alongside men, people still couldn’t help stealing a few extra looks…

“Lady Chu and Lord Zhu’s expressions are quite matched.”

“Like a golden boy and jade girl? Ha ha.”

Someone couldn’t help joking, but the next moment an icy gaze fell upon them. That official involuntarily shivered, his voice cutting off abruptly.

At the palace gate, the python-patterned robe gleamed brightly as Ding Dachui stared coldly at them.

“This lord sees a man and woman together and thinks of golden boys and jade girls? Why not visit our Imperial Guard’s prison—there are men and women there too. Let me make you really happy,” he said.

That official nearly suffocated, forcing out a smile: “No, no, I was… thinking of my own son and daughter. Thanks to Lord Ding’s blessing, I’ve just had another son and daughter.”

He spoke incoherently. The officials beside him wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. Fortunately, Ding Dachui said nothing more and turned to walk away.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“That scared me to death.” That official wiped away sweat.

“You too—you play around with words at home where your family doesn’t dare do anything to you, but show some restraint at court.” Others also complained. “They’re all officials—not to be trifled with.”

That official said ruefully: “I just…” Just wasn’t used to seeing men and women walking together. Except when accompanying husbands, women rarely showed their faces in public.

Ah, times had changed. Forget it, forget it. If he really ended up in the Imperial Guard, his life and property would be finished.

“I understand. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

……

……

On the bustling street, a team of constables came galloping past, carrying bundles and holding banners aloft.

“They’re announcing next year’s civil examinations,” the capital’s citizens immediately recognized. “So fast—another three years have passed.”

By a window in a roadside wine house, Qi Leyun also stared at the constables, nearly leaning her body out. A young girl and boy carefully held onto her legs.

“Mother, be careful,” they said.

The door was pushed open as several women entered. Seeing this scene, one couldn’t help laughing.

“Qi Leyun, it’s just failing the examination—don’t do anything drastic,” she said with a laugh.

Qi Leyun pulled herself back from the window, glared at her, and asked urgently: “How was it? How was it? Did Chu Tang succeed?”

The women sat down inside, unhurriedly pouring tea. Only when Qi Leyun snatched the teapot away did they smile: “She succeeded.”

One pointed outside.

“What’s being announced now—for provincial, prefectural, and county examinations, women can also participate. It’s no longer just one session in the capital.”

Qi Leyun clasped her hands together and chanted a Buddhist prayer: “Finally made it through.”

The women’s examinations had only one session, with everyone converging on the capital. Unless one possessed stunning and exceptional talent, there was simply no chance of standing out.

“Qi Leyun, you’re already a mother—do you still want to take the exam?” a woman asked with a laugh, reaching out to pull Qi Leyun’s two children over, stuffing each with a sachet. “Take these. Auntie gives them to you to play with.”

The two children saluted respectfully, sitting quietly to the side without noise or fuss.

“I’m not taking it—my younger sister-in-law will,” Qi Leyun said, her expression animated. “I’ve already planned it out. She’ll study at the Imperial Academy in the capital, then we’ll return home to take the examination. When that time comes—”

No matter how capable the women back home were, they definitely couldn’t compare to someone who’d studied at the capital’s Imperial Academy. She was sure to rank highly. Even if she didn’t become top scholar, as long as she was selected, she would have an official degree just like the men. With an official degree, she could be employed by the government, become an official or clerk.

Qi Leyun laughed proudly.

“No matter what, our family will produce a female official!”

The women shook their heads helplessly: “You’re already a mother, yet still so cunning.” “Don’t think you’re so clever. Plenty of people are thinking the same as you—without real ability, it’s still difficult.”

As the constables rushed to spread the news, word of the new examination session spread throughout Da Xia. Now, matters concerning women’s civil examinations were known to everyone.

In the remote Yunzhong Commandery, next year’s examinations had become the hottest topic.

Though Yunzhong Commandery was remote, it was rich in resources. These past years, without the disturbance of warfare, the cities were also prosperous.

Wine houses and teahouses filled the city, while on the roads outside, carts, horses, and people flowed endlessly.

At this moment, beneath a large locust tree outside the city gate, passing peddlers and laborers resting their feet were also discussing the women’s examinations.

“This time, women can participate in provincial, prefectural, and county examinations too—no need to rush to the capital anymore.”

“Just like the men, competing in the same arena.”

“I still think this is nonsense. What can women do?”

“You’re wrong about that. Have you heard of Madame Zeng? She passed the examination and applied her considerable abilities practically. Now in the Ministry of Works, she specializes in flood control.”

“I know—is that the female River Goddess!”

“The female River Goddess? I know her too! In my hometown, we flooded every three years. Madame Zeng spent three years, and this year we truly had no more floods!”

“She’s really that capable?”

“Really! People in my hometown are already planning to build a living shrine for her. Everyone’s competing to donate money. I’ve written to my mother too, saying our family will also donate.”

As the conversation reached this point, half a pear dropped from the tree with a plop, accompanied by a child’s cry: “My pear—”

The passerby who got hit on the head looked up and also exclaimed: “Whose child climbed so high!”

The people under the tree all looked up, seeing on the thick, leafy old locust tree a four or five-year-old girl, delicate as carved jade.

Her short little arms couldn’t even embrace the tree, and she looked unsteady.

The people below kept exclaiming in alarm, afraid the child would fall.

And with the people’s exclamations, the girl in the tree also swayed back and forth crying out, as if she might fall at any moment.

This tree wasn’t easy to climb. Several passersby circled around trying several times but failed.

The onlookers exclaimed while stretching out their hands to catch the child, all the while wondering.

How did this child climb up there?

Amid the chaos, hoofbeats came galloping on the road as another group of riders arrived. The horses and riders stopped nearby, stirring up dust, from which came a clear shout.

“Chu Qiqi!”

With this shout, the child in the tree stopped crying out. In everyone’s sight, she giggled, kicked with her short legs, and flew out.

“Ah—” the passersby under the tree cried out in alarm.

But accompanying this cry, the child flew steadily toward the roadside, landing in arms that extended from the dust.

The passersby’s gazes followed, watching as the dust cleared to reveal a tall, lean man wrapped in a black robe with a black scarf covering his head and face, exposing only his eyes—eyes like stars and jade that one couldn’t look away from.

His arm held the girl as his eyes narrowed: “You again—”

His words were cut short as the girl lunged forward, pressing against his face and softly calling: “Daddy—Qiqi missed you so much—”

His narrowed eyes melted like ice and snow in an instant, becoming bright with smiles.

“Daddy missed you too,” he said with a laugh, holding the girl with one arm in front of him as he spurred his horse forward. “Come, let’s go home.”

Hoofbeats galloped past accompanied by the girl’s laughter as the group of riders continued forward.

Only then did the roadside people come to their senses, also noticing the weapons this group carried and their undisguised fierce aura.

In these peaceful and prosperous times, there were no more foreign invasions, no mountain bandits or mounted thieves—well, there seemed to be mountain bandits. When traveling through mountain forests they’d encountered them, but those bandits seemed uninterested in them, either ignoring them or even selling them game.

Perhaps they’d seen wrong. Though fierce-looking, they were actually just hunters.

So what were this group of riders?

Though times were peaceful and prosperous, the government’s military was even stricter. Privately carrying heavy bows and swords—that would be questioned.

Judging by the direction this group was heading, it was toward the commandery city. They were entering the city openly.

“I know,” a passerby suddenly said. “They’re from Luomu City.”

The passersby were from out of town and weren’t familiar with Yunzhong Commandery’s prefectures and county seats. Their expressions were blank—what about Luomu City? Could people from there act so brazenly?

“Luomu City actually doesn’t belong to Yunzhong Commandery,” the passerby explained with a smile. “It was originally Xi Liang’s territory. Ten years ago, when Xi Liang was defeated in war, the Xi Liang King fled far away with his people. Their former territory was occupied and became known as Luomu City.”

“So these people are soldiers of our Da Xia?” someone understood and asked.

But the passerby shook his head again: “Not soldiers either, but they’re like a barrier there, protecting Da Xia.”

Everyone finally understood. So that was it. That’s why they were given preferential treatment to carry weapons—though not soldiers, they were also considered Da Xia’s defenders.

What a pity they hadn’t looked carefully earlier to see these heroes. Everyone looked toward the road again, but the group of riders had already disappeared from sight.

……

……

This group of heroes, however, didn’t discuss heroic matters.

Under the city gate guards’ watchful eyes, they entered the city directly, their conversation revolving around the girl held in someone’s arms.

“How many times has she run away from home now? Counting from when she learned to walk.”

“Have you forgotten? Before Qiqi could even walk, she could crawl away from home.”

Laughter rang out periodically through the group, mixed with the girl’s indignation.

“It’s not running away from home. I’m seeking knowledge,” the girl said seriously, holding the man’s neck while explaining to the uncles around her. “I’m going to become a River Goddess in the future.”

A man laughed heartily: “You just heard this new term, didn’t you?”

“Right, last time didn’t you say you wanted to be a peddler?” another man said.

The girl wanted to argue but was held in front of the man, who narrowed his eyes: “Speak—what trouble did you cause this time?”

The girl grinned at him as if wanting to say something.

“Don’t sweet-talk me. Your tricks are far inferior to your mother’s,” the man said, tapping her forehead.

The girl covered her head and said obediently: “I planted Gou Wa and the others in the dirt. They said they wanted to see if they could grow taller.”

The man laughed and tapped her forehead again: “That was definitely you putting them up to it.”

The other men also laughed. “So Qiqi caused trouble, your mother was going to beat you, and you ran?” “Why didn’t you go find your grandmother?”

The girl sighed: “Don’t mention it. Grandmother is more afraid of Mother than I am and ran faster than me.”

The men laughed again.

Only a one-armed man snorted: “I knew Mu Mianhong was unreliable.”

The others’ eyes shifted away as they said nothing. The girl’s eyes immediately brightened as she reached toward the one-armed man, sweetly calling: “Grandpa Zhong, hold me—”

The one-armed man’s face bloomed with smiles as he reached toward the girl: “Good Qiqi.”

“Qiqi missed Grandpa Zhong so much,” the girl said. “When we get back, help Qiqi talk to Mother—”

Before she finished, her outstretched hand whipped back.

The one-armed man touched his nose and coughed twice: “I caught a chill on this trip. Best to avoid people for a few days and recuperate.”

The girl huffed indignantly, waving her little fists: “Grandpa Zhong, you’re unreliable too!”

The men laughed again.

“Alright,” the man held the girl properly in front of him and said, “Stop trying to be clever. Go back and accept your punishment obediently.”

The girl hung her head and sighed dejectedly when suddenly, clamor rose from the street ahead.

“Fire—”

“Fire—”

The man’s eyes darkened as he looked forward, seeing thick smoke rising into the air not far away.

“Let’s go.” He spurred his horse forward.

……

……

The fire raged fiercely. Countless people ran about pouring water on it. Disheveled citizens were helped out one by one. Crying and shouting filled the air everywhere.

“My child—”

“My child is still inside—”

A woman was carried out on someone’s back, screaming hoarsely. Hearing her, the man carrying her handed her to others who came to meet them, then without raising his head charged back into the fire.

“Dangerous—”

“Can’t go back in—”

Accompanied by shouts from behind, the person had already rushed into the thick smoke.

The fire forced people to retreat step by step. More people surged forward. Officials and soldiers arrived too, quickly clearing the surroundings to prevent the fire from spreading.

“My child, my child—” the woman stumbled forward trying to rush toward the fire, held back desperately by the crowd.

Besides her, several other soot-faced men also anxiously looked toward the fire.

“It’s over, it’s over.”

“Definitely can’t survive.”

Someone else murmured: “Should have known not to pass through here.”

Amid the chaos, a shout rang out: “He’s out—”

With the shout, a ball of fire rolled out from the flames. Officials and soldiers immediately surged forward with water to pour and cloth to beat. The fireball was wrapped in a layer of bedding. When uncovered, an infant’s wailing cry emerged first.

Though not loud amid the fire scene, this cry made everyone breathe a sigh of relief.

The woman rushed over to embrace the child, then looked at the person before her—

The person’s face was blackened by smoke, hair and clothes burned beyond recognition, with grotesque blood blisters where exposed, and only one arm.

“Benefactor—” the woman knelt down weeping and kowtowing while holding the infant.

The one-armed man had shown no retreat before the fire, yet now backed away anxiously, his voice hoarse: “No need, no need.”

An official said at this moment: “Come quickly to treat your injuries.”

The one-armed man avoided them again: “No need, no need.” Having spoken, he lowered his head and walked away.

The other men hurried to follow. Officials and citizens watched them walk to one spot, shouldering carrying baskets filled with huge stones.

So they were laborers.

Everyone understood. Laborers were people under punishment, normally met with disdain.

However, at this moment, no one looked away. They watched as the man slowly stood, the heavy stone making his form hunched.

“He’s one-armed like Grandpa Zhong,” came a girl’s voice from nearby. “So brave—”

Perhaps it was the words “one-armed”—the standing man’s form stiffened. Instinctively hearing the voice, he looked over to see a man holding a girl.

His face was blackened by smoke, yet even so, one could see his expression震动.

Then his gaze met the man’s.

After a moment of silence, he withdrew his gaze, shouldering his basket and slowly walking away with his companions.

“Daddy,” the girl said, pulling at the man’s face. “Do you know him?”

The man withdrew his gaze and replied: “I don’t know him.”

The girl pouted: “Liar.” But her eyes rolled, and she pressed close to the man’s face, saying ingratiatingly: “But still, Daddy is the bravest.”

The man smiled and pulled her away from his face: “But even the bravest daddy won’t help you plead with your mother.”

The girl immediately looked dejected. As father and daughter were joking, a general walked over.

“Nin—” he hesitated, then said respectfully, “Lord Nine, the fire has been controlled.”

The man put away his joking manner and looked toward the fire, his eyes somewhat distant: “Investigate the cause of the fire.”

The cause of the fire—this area had mixed dwellings and chaotic cooking fires. Fires were inevitable. What was there to investigate? Though puzzled, the general immediately responded affirmatively.

“Lord Nine,” he said, his expression somewhat excited. “Since you’re here, would you like to visit the camp?”

The man glanced at him, smiled, and shook his head: “I’m going home.”

The men who’d helped extinguish the fire with the soldiers also returned. Unconcerned about the soot on their bodies and faces, they mounted their horses and galloped away with the man.

……

……

Crossing city after city, passing through ravine after ravine, galloping across rolling grasslands, weaving through flocks of sheep and cattle, then a city appeared in their sight.

Seeing them from afar, multicolored banners waved from the city walls and long horns sounded.

The men whooped strangely at the horn call announcing their return home. At the same time, children playing outside the city also surged forward.

“Qiqi—”

“Qiqi’s back—”

“Qiqi’s even more impressive this time, taking so many days before being caught—”

“Qiqi, tell us what fun stories you have this time—”

Seeing the large and small groups of children, the man smiled and tossed the girl. She landed steadily on the ground, engulfed by the children.

“Don’t worry, let me tell you slowly—” her childish voice rang out loudly.

The man paid no more attention, spurring his horse toward the city.

The person he wanted to see wasn’t at home. He turned his horse’s head and went in another direction outside the city.

Tombstones stood in rows here. At this moment, before a large tomb, a woman sat alone.

“What are you doing?” the man called out loudly.

The woman sitting alone turned her head, immediately putting down the paper and brush in her hands to spread her arms and rush toward him.

The man caught her and lifted her gently, bringing them eye to eye.

The wind and sand of the border region had left no trace of wear on the woman’s face—she looked just as she had years ago by the riverside as A’Fu.

Chu Zhao spat: “When I was A’Fu, I deliberately concealed my appearance. Are you saying I’ve become ugly?”

Speaking, she pulled down the man’s scarf, revealing his bright and handsome face.

Xie Yanlai laughed heartily: “Back then I was focused on killing that little thief—how could I care what you looked like?”

“The little thief was beautiful as a flower,” Chu Zhao said with a giggling laugh, pecking at his lips.

But the response she received was an almost suffocating deep kiss.

“Father’s watching!” Only when Chu Zhao lightly pounded his shoulder was she released.

Xie Yanlai looked toward the tombstone and said: “Why did you come to see Father?”

Chu Zhao replied: “Because of that mischievous imp Qiqi. Xiao Man argues with me every day, scolding me for not knowing how to raise a child. I came out to hide and get some peace.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Such a headache—how can she be so mischievous? Not like me at all.”

Xie Yanlai smiled ambiguously: “Is that so? The first time I met Qiqi’s mother, she’d beaten someone, stolen money, and fooled a group of people into playing along while she ran very far away.”

Chu Zhao laughed heartily.

Xie Yanlai looked down to see several pieces of paper laid before the tombstone—writings and drawings, portraits of women.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A letter from A’Yu,” Chu Zhao said. “Complaining that Deng Yi won’t listen, sticking his neck out every day causing trouble in court, or dragging a coffin around investigating tax money, relying on being a dead man to disturb the living.”

“Why tell you? So you’ll beat up Deng Yi?” Xie Yanlai said. “He’s so grown now—let him do his own beating.”

Chu Zhao laughed heartily.

“And this?” Xie Yanlai asked again, pointing at the portraits.

“This?” Chu Zhao’s expression became animated as she beckoned him to look. “A’Yu should take a wife. These are portraits of selected women. He asked me—us—to help choose. Come look quickly.”

Xie Yanlai didn’t even look. That boy wasn’t asking him to choose—no need to deliberately add that “us.”

He sneered: “What are you choosing his wife for!”

Chu Zhao said with a smile: “I’m his maternal uncle’s wife—that’s also like being his mother.” She studied the portraits with kind and benevolent eyes. “They’re all good—in the bloom of youth, beautiful as flowers.”

“Emperors never lack beauties,” Xie Yanlai said, snatching the portraits away. “Why look at appearances?”

Yes, besides appearance, emperors had to consider other things. Ultimately, it couldn’t be pure affection.

Sitting in the imperial city wasn’t easy—worldly troubles. Chu Zhao felt wistful for a moment before casting these thoughts aside.

“Oh right, you wrote saying that this time, farther west, you met strange people?” she asked.

Xie Yanlai replied: “Yes, strange appearances, speaking strange languages. It seems they said there are also cities and capitals over there, completely different from ours.”

Chu Zhao looked curious: “That sounds so interesting. Should we go look?”

Xie Yanlai nodded: “Sure.”

Chu Zhao continued: “I wonder if there are even stranger places farther west? We should go see those too.”

Xie Yanlai nodded again: “Sure.”

Chu Zhao’s eyes sparkled as she said: “I’ve heard there are immortals on the moon in the sky. Let’s go see them too.”

Xie Yanlai laughed again and nodded: “Sure.” He grasped Chu Zhao’s hand. “Never mind the sky—if you want to see the nine springs of the underworld, we’ll go see those too.”

Chu Zhao spat: “Every time you speak of life, you don’t forget to mention death.”

Xie Yanlai embraced her, saying softly: “In life we’re together. I’m just afraid that in death, I won’t be able to find you.”

Chu Zhao lifted her head, standing on her toes to gently bite his chin.

“You won’t lose me. I’ll leave you a scar. Life after life, I’ll still be able to find you.”

(The End)