By the end of last year, Chu Zhao could walk three circles around the entire village every evening.

By the first month of this year, Chu Zhao could already ride a horse at a light trot outside the village.

By the beginning of spring, at the training ground specially set up outside the village for children to practice martial arts, Chu Zhao’s archery had leaped to first place among the little ones.

Now she was no longer satisfied competing with a group of children at the training ground. She’d begun riding her horse out to the open areas to display her skills.

Zhong Changrong watched the girl dressed in plain cloth wrapped in a scarf, riding a red horse, carrying a bow with arrows on her back, galloping over.

Despite the scarf, the spring wind still blew her face rosy red.

“Be careful,” Zhong Changrong couldn’t help saying, gesturing for her to dismount quickly.

Chu Zhao nimbly jumped down from the horse’s back, startling Zhong Changrong again.

“Are you really all right now?” he said, then complained, “Mu Mianhong doesn’t even watch over you. What a waste that you call her Mother.”

Chu Zhao laughed. “I’m really fine now.” At this point she winked at Zhong Changrong. “I went decades without a mother. Didn’t my father and Uncle Zhong take good care of me anyway?”

Zhong Changrong hummed twice with satisfaction, looking at the bow and arrows in her hands. “Has your strength recovered?”

Chu Zhao said, “Still a bit short.”

Zhong Changrong replied, “I can tell. Otherwise we’d be having roast whole lamb tonight.” With that, he looked at the flock again and called out “Twenty-seven.” A small sheep indeed came trotting over.

He said with some distress, “Its leg is a bit lame.”

Chu Zhao was both exasperated and amused. “Then your Twenty-seven isn’t much good either. Gets lame from one scare—how can it charge into battle?”

“That’s where you don’t understand,” Zhong Changrong said with wide eyes. “Sheep charging into battle is different from people. Our Twenty-seven is a sentinel. At one command, he’s excellent at leading the way and bringing up the rear. With him around, I don’t even need to direct them—the flock can herd itself.”

Chu Zhao laughed so hard she clutched her stomach.

Zhong Changrong even specially demonstrated for her.

After watching Zhong Changrong train his sheep for a while and riding her horse alongside the flock for half the day, Chu Zhao was urged by Zhong Changrong to return.

“You must take good care of your health,” he repeatedly instructed. “There’s no rush with riding and archery. Right now we’re in a place where no one controls us. Our days are free and easy. Being happy and content is more important than anything.”

Chu Zhao agreed repeatedly, then instructed Zhong Changrong not to drink too much before spurring her horse back to the village.

Since her health had improved, Xiao Man no longer lived with her, and she didn’t cook either. Returning to her dwelling, she let the little red horse find its own food and drink while she walked straight into Deng Yi’s courtyard.

“A’Cai,” she called.

The young servant immediately stuck his head out from the kitchen. “A’Fu is back. The meal will be ready soon.”

“What’s for dinner today?” Chu Zhao asked expectantly.

“Roast chicken!” the servant said with delight. “And we even got dried lotus leaves from the market.”

Chu Zhao praised him repeatedly.

The servant gestured to her. “Go inside and wait quickly.”

Chu Zhao walked indoors. Deng Yi’s main hall was much brighter than hers. A blind old woman sat by the window fumbling to make socks.

“A’Fu has come,” she said with a smile, listening carefully.

Chu Zhao made a sound of agreement and sat beside her, loudly praising, “Auntie, the socks you make are really beautiful.”

“Beautiful or not doesn’t matter. A’Er and his older brother both have big feet. The socks never fit properly,” Mother Deng said. At this point, thinking of something, she called out, “A’Er, A’Er.”

This time the servant didn’t need to answer from the kitchen. Chu Zhao said, “A’Er is still in class.”

Mother Deng made a sound of understanding, seeming to remember, then rambled on. “A’Er studies so hard, he eats a lot. A’Da always gives him his own food, lying and saying he already ate at home.” At this point she called out again, “A’Er, remember to tend your father’s and brother’s graves.”

Chu Zhao didn’t mind Mother Deng’s confused talk and nodded along. “He remembers. He’s said so.”

Then, with Mother Deng repeating these two sentences, the servant brought out the food. Before long, Deng Yi also came in.

“My teaching salary can’t afford meat every day,” Deng Yi said with a frown.

The servant was very unhappy. “We only had meat once three days ago, and this chicken wasn’t bought—it was sent by Little Grasshopper’s mother. Grasshopper can write his own name now. His mother specially wanted to thank you.”

Deng Yi glanced at him. “You accept gifts from whoever sends them.”

“This isn’t a gift,” the servant corrected. “This is called human kindness.”

As master and servant argued, from the corner of his eye Deng Yi saw Chu Zhao tear off a chicken leg—

“A’Fu,” he said. “Your mother is right here in the village, and she’s the chief. She doesn’t lack meat to eat.”

Chu Zhao smiled and took a large bite of the chicken leg. “I’m grown now. How can I always revolve around Mother?” As she spoke, she reached out to tear off the other chicken leg, pulled it apart and placed it in a bowl, then held Mother Deng’s hand to lift it. “Auntie, chicken leg, eat.”

Mother Deng said “good, good,” holding the bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other, and began eating.

Chu Zhao picked up her own bowl. “I’m finished eating, I’m leaving.” Though she said this, she added another spoonful of lotus leaf rice to her bowl. As she passed through the hall, she also picked up an inkstone.

“Just borrowing this.”

These actions were completed in an instant. By the time she’d dropped this sentence, she’d already disappeared from the room.

Deng Yi looked toward the doorway with a frown, shaking his head.

“A’Er, your father and brother—”

“I remember, I’ll go tend to them right away.”

Stepping into her own room, the rambling from Deng Yi’s house was shut out. Chu Zhao entered the study area, leisurely finished the rice and meat, then took out the inkstone and began grinding ink.

A large sheet of paper was spread out on the desk.

Chu Zhao surveyed it, occasionally picking up her brush to sketch. She was very focused, so much so that she didn’t notice until Deng Yi spoke.

“What are you doing?”

Chu Zhao looked up and saw Deng Yi standing in the hall. “Nothing much. Just drawing.”

Just drawing—why add “just”? Did she not know what she was doing?

Deng Yi simply walked over and looked at the diagram on the desk. The paper showed magnificent mountains and rivers, with lines like arrows weaving through them, stirring up waves.

“Your Majesty is drawing a military campaign map,” he said.

In Qingmu Village there was only Miss A’Fu, never Your Majesty.

Whether Deng Yi’s form of address was deliberate or an unconscious slip, who could say?

Chu Zhao didn’t mind either way. She neither acknowledged nor denied it, but instead asked him, “What do you think? Doesn’t it look spirited?”

Deng Yi said, “What does it matter if it looks spirited?”

“If it looks spirited, can’t that matter?” Chu Zhao said, studying the diagram, then looked up with a smile. “When my spirit is restored, it won’t just be a drawing anymore.”

……

……

“You said you want to do what?”

Both Zhong Changrong and Mu Mianhong had been summoned. Looking at the map on the desk and listening to Chu Zhao’s words, their expressions showed some surprise.

Chu Zhao said, “I want to punish the wicked and eliminate evil, clear the Emperor’s side of treacherous officials. I want to proclaim to the realm that Empress Chu is innocent.”

Zhong Changrong and Mu Mianhong looked at her, their expressions shocked but also complex.

“A’Zhao, this matter is truly infuriating,” Zhong Changrong said, his expression resentful. “The Xie clan, and that little Emperor—they’ve truly gone too far in bullying people. You’re right not to swallow this grievance.”

Chu Zhao said, “It’s not about swallowing grievances. This matter isn’t about fairness or unfairness. I’ve never hoped for the Xie clan and His Majesty to treat our Chu clan with special favor. This matter is very simple—it’s a contest, and at that time I truly lost, I was defeated.”

At this point she smiled again.

“But I’m not discouraged by defeat. And I’m not dead. So I’m going to try again.”

Xiao Man, standing behind Mu Mianhong, couldn’t help saying, “Didn’t you not want to be Empress? At that time when Xie Yanfang went mad, wasn’t it because of this? Now you can choose not to be—aren’t these days what you wanted? Why go back and fight again?”

If you’d known it would come to this, why did you act that way to begin with?

Though Zhong Changrong didn’t like Xiao Man’s attitude, this time he didn’t scold her. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Uncle Zhong isn’t afraid of battle—you know Uncle Zhong fears nothing. But A’Zhao, are you worried the court will still threaten us? There’s really no need. A’Jiu—well, as long as that A’Jiu boy wants to do something, he can do it well. With him there, we can be at ease.”

Chu Zhao looked at Xiao Man. “When I broke with Xie Yanfang, it was because of being Empress, but also not really. Today when I fight back, it’s for being Empress, but also not really.”

Xiao Man’s head ached listening to this.

Chu Zhao looked at Zhong Changrong again. “I know it’s A’Jiu sitting in the Imperial City, restraining the endless pursuit and assassination attempts for us. Of course I also believe A’Jiu can protect us well. But in this life, I still want to protect myself myself.”

Zhong Changrong thought, “this life”—what about “that life” then? His head also ached slightly.

“I want to be Empress because I myself can be, not relying on anyone’s support, much less anyone’s grace,” Chu Zhao continued. “If I don’t become Empress, it should also be because I myself have arranged the realm and my own retreat, not because someone else has arranged things for me. I don’t want others to do things for me. Or rather, I don’t believe others can do them for me. In this life, what I want, I must obtain with my own hands.”

“Originally, I, Chu Zhao, reaching this point would have been dead, finished.”

“But this time I was fortunate to encounter A’Jiu. Xiao Man, Mother, Uncle Zhong—you’re all here too. I didn’t die. I’m alive. And I still have ability.”

“Then I, Chu Zhao, cannot stop here. This matter cannot end here. Otherwise, I will have lived this life in vain.”

Xiao Man raised her hand to rub her brow, pursed her lips, and turned her head away without speaking further.

Zhong Changrong stood stunned for a moment, then laughed and nodded. “That’s right. We can’t live this life in vain. This matter can’t be settled like this!”

Chu Zhao looked at Mu Mianhong again. From beginning to end she hadn’t spoken, only standing to the side with a smile.

“Mother,” she asked. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

Mu Mianhong smiled and shook her head. “Of course not. What my child wants to do—does that need explanation or reasons for this mother? “

Zhong Changrong and Xiao Man simultaneously snorted.

Chu Zhao was amused and nodded. “Mother is right. No need to ask. I raise the blade, Mother kills—it’s natural and right.”

Mu Mianhong smiled. “Then I’ll go sharpen my blade.” With that, she called to Xiao Man. The two indeed said nothing more and turned to leave.

Zhong Changrong thought for a moment. “Then I’ll go disperse my sheep.”

Chu Zhao was amused again, watching Zhong Changrong stride away.

She looked at the night outside. When she’d first been reborn, she never would have thought that in the end, she would be the one raising the banner of rebellion, proclaiming the elimination of evil officials and clearing the Emperor’s side.

This time, the evil officials being denounced were the Xie clan, while she as Empress had become the rebel.

Someone coughed behind her, interrupting Chu Zhao’s reverie.

“Zhu Second,” she turned her head and saw Deng Yi was still in the room. Earlier he hadn’t left and hadn’t spoken, only sitting at the desk. “Why aren’t you hurrying to get busy?”

Deng Yi said, “Busy with what?”

Chu Zhao raised an eyebrow. “Of course, leading your students to write proclamations of denunciation.”