Chu Qiao was awakened by an intoxicating fragrance.

The moon hung high in the sky, with sparse stars scattered about. Moonlight spilled like liquid silver, streaming through the latticed windows and gently falling upon the cool couch, resembling clusters of snow-white pear blossoms in full bloom. Chu Qiao wore a pearl-colored soft indoor gown, her jet-black hair spread across the couch. She slightly furrowed her delicate brows and slowly opened her eyes to see the shimmering water outside the window reflecting the gentle moonlight, making her appear all the more ethereal and elegant against the sparse shadows.

Having slept too much during the day, she now found herself wide awake at night.

Chu Qiao sat up, careful not to disturb the maids outside, and walked to the window, gently lifting one corner.

Before the window stood a crabapple tree in full bloom, its branches extending at an angle, with flowers as red as cinnabar, like splashes of rouge against the cold, quiet night breeze. They swayed gently, their fragrance wafting over, enveloping her. The petals clustered tightly; when touched lightly with a finger, red pollen fell, scattering among the wide sleeves of her robe.

Not far away on the clear pond, palace servants gently rowed boats. The sound of flutes whispered, as serene as in a secluded mountain valley, lulling one to sleep.

In that moment, the hardships of eight years seemed to vanish. Chu Qiao stood by the window, like a mischievous child who had stumbled into a realm of immortals, unaware of what night this was.

Not wanting to disturb the maids outside, she lifted her skirt, and with her pearl-embroidered soft-soled shoes, lightly stepped onto the tall tree branch. She nimbly climbed over, following the newly built waterwheel, and descended from the second floor. With a twist of her body, she landed steadily on the ground.

The soil around the crabapple tree was freshly added, clearly having been transplanted from elsewhere. Recalling what she had seen earlier on the street, Li Ce had joked about moving that flowering tree into the palace. She hadn’t expected him to remember.

For some reason, her heart stirred slightly. She turned her head, unwilling to look further, as if afraid to disturb certain ripples in her heart.

It was now late summer, and the night no longer held the sweltering heat of daytime, bringing instead a slight coolness. Chu Qiao lifted her skirt, wearing palace embroidered shoes that didn’t quite fit, and walked slowly on the ebony bridge surrounding the clear pond. The gentle breeze over the water made her skirt rustle softly. The sky was vast, stars sparse, and beneath the veiled clouds and mist, a crescent moon wandered quietly among the palace halls. Its light was hazy, scattering white radiance on the ground like a clear pool of water breaking through ice.

The shore was filled with fragrances, large blooms of white, red, and light pink intertwined, layered densely, and shrouded in a tranquil silver glow.

Chu Qiao’s expression was peaceful. It had been a very long time since her mind had been this calm. The night breeze caressed her face, everything seeming like a dream within a dream. As she walked, a koi fish suddenly leaped up, splashing back into the spring waters with a plop, creating ripples that only emphasized the serenity of the moment.

With no one around, Chu Qiao simply sat down on the wooden bridge, her hand resting on the ebony railing, gazing at the slight ripples on the lake’s surface, and resting her head lightly against the annual rings of the raw wood.

She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had felt such peace.

The recent journey to Bian Tang seemed to have washed away all the hostility and fatigue from her body. This serene landscape, the garden full of summer flowers, the graceful eaves, and the bracket arms of the buildings—all displayed the charm and gentle harmony of Jiangnan’s misty rain. She could finally take a deep breath and tell herself that this was not Zhenhuang, not Da Xia, far from killing, free from pursuit—she was temporarily safe and could, just slightly, take a deep breath.

Eight years had passed. Even if she didn’t speak of it, even if she remained strong, she had finally grown somewhat weary.

She wondered if the winds of Yan Bei were as warm as those here.

At this thought, Chu Qiao suddenly gave a slight laugh.

How could they be? Yan Bei was covered in snow year-round, with cutting winds. Only in the Hui Hui Mountain region were there grasslands and valleys where horses could gallop freely. She had heard Yan Xun say that on Hui Hui Mountain lived the fairy of Yan Bei, a goddess who protected the people of Yan Bei. She stood eternally on the coldest peak, gazing at the star map of the earth, watching the multitudes of life below with vast, selfless eyes, contending with heaven for sunlight and warmth, fighting for her people’s survival.

Yan Bei, Yan Bei—even its deities were mother-like warriors. Every inch of Yan Bei’s land was stained with the blood and tears of common people fighting against natural disasters, human calamities, and the blades of warfare. It was a nation reborn from white bones; at the root of every flower lay the blood and bones of warriors who had defended their homeland. In every breeze dwelled the spirits of those who had sacrificed their lives for freedom.

That was Yan Bei, a land full of suffering, yet one that had never bowed in submission.

She had never personally seen that high plateau covered with tall grass. She had only heard others speak of it repeatedly. In those dark, unbearable days when they were treated worse than pigs and dogs, talking about Yan Bei, about its snow-capped mountains and grasslands, was the greatest pleasure for her and Yan Xun. They huddled in dark corners, imagining herds of wild horses and surging rivers as if seeing great hope in the cold winter night.

Those who had not experienced it could not comprehend their bond of mutual dependence.

In that suffocating, nauseating, maddening imperial city, they were two hairless little wolves, back to back, extending their inconspicuous claws. There was no wall to lean against, no coal for warmth; they had nowhere to rely on and no source of comfort. They could only depend on each other, tightly, finding the courage to survive in each other’s gaze and body heat.

They were inseparable comrades, intimate allies, and irreplaceable family.

This complex relationship had long transcended simple love between man and woman, becoming part of their blood and body. Many times, Chu Qiao had no time to ponder over matters of womanhood. Her brief life seemed to have been spent running, fighting, and meticulously planning. Thus, she had buried many things deep within. But at this moment, as she tried to reflect, she couldn’t find any thread to follow.

She was a rational person, always had been.

She knew what she wanted, what she shouldn’t become entangled with, what awaited in the future. So she walked carefully according to these principles, not allowing herself to stray. Perhaps such a personality was uninteresting, dull, and dry, but that was who she was—stubborn and inflexible as a water buffalo.

Chu Qiao slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was about to arrive; she could already smell the distant wind. She knew it was him thinking of her.

“How long are you going to sit there alone?”

Chu Qiao was startled and quickly turned around. Li Ce was wearing a pine-green robe loosely tied at the waist, his collar slightly open, revealing half of his robust chest. His hair was lightly bound at the back with silk, with loose sideburns floating gently. His eyes were like willow strands in March, narrowed slightly in the moonlight, like a sleepy fox. He smiled at Chu Qiao, then extended his slender hand and lightly yawned.

Chu Qiao slowly frowned. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Just a moment.” Li Ce swayed as he walked over and sat down casually beside her, passing her a silver wine flask. “Want a drink?”

Chu Qiao shook her head. “I never drink.”

Li Ce shrugged slightly. “You live such a boring life.”

“Did you come out in the middle of the night just to mock me?”

Li Ce took a sip of wine. His tolerance was not great; after just a few sips, his cheeks began to flush slightly. His gaze lightly swept over Chu Qiao, and then he pointed to a small island in the middle of the lake. “Do you know how many years that tree has lived?”

Chu Qiao was stunned, not expecting this sudden topic. She remained silent.

Li Ce answered his question: “More than four hundred years already. Surprising, isn’t it? Even older than the ancestors of Da Xia.”

Then he pointed to a small flower by the ebony bridge: “Do you know what flower this is?”

The small flower was light purple, with an extremely small disk, swaying in the wind, looking quite pitiful, as if it might be carried away by a strong gust at any moment.

“It’s called Youyan. It blooms at midnight and withers at dawn, blooming only once in its lifetime for just a few hours, yet it takes an entire year’s worth of energy.”

The silver wine flask was engraved with patterns of small delicate flowers that looked remarkably similar to the Youyan. Li Ce tilted his head back for another sip of wine, then turned to Chu Qiao with a smile. “Qiaoqiao, life is short. Morning dew and epiphyllum flowers turn to white hair in the blink of an eye. One must seize joy when possible, not waste precious time.”

Chu Qiao slowly shook her head, saying in a low voice, “But if given a choice, I would rather be the Youyan flower with its brief bloom than the ancient tree leading a mediocre existence forever.”

“Hehe,” Li Ce laughed casually. “All things have their way of living. The Youyan laughs at the ancient tree’s lifelong mediocrity, unable to dazzle, not knowing that enduring existence is itself a kind of brilliance. Standing firm through the years, unharmed by wind and rain—that is a kind of strength. The beauty of the ages is not something that mayflies can comprehend.”

Chu Qiao turned to look at him. Li Ce’s eyes were bright, his smile carefree. She gazed at him intently and asked solemnly, “And you? Would you rather have the brilliance of morning and evening or the beauty that comes with time?”

“Me?” Li Ce turned to look at her, his smile suddenly radiant. “My ambition is greater. I hope to be like the ancient tree, enduring year after year, and also to be as brilliant and varied as the Youyan at every moment, haha.”

Chu Qiao shook her head slightly, saying softly, “Seize joy in life when you can, don’t let your golden cup face the moon empty.”

“Good poem!” Li Ce laughed, tilting his head back to drink, saying casually, “I didn’t expect Qiaoqiao to be such a talented woman.”

Chu Qiao smiled faintly without replying or refuting.

“Qiaoqiao, there’s something I don’t know if I should say.”

Chu Qiao smiled gently. “If you consider me a friend, just speak freely.”

Tonight’s Li Ce was completely different from his usual self. Though his conversation was still filled with laughter and many unorthodox words, sitting quietly in the moonlight surrounded by flowering trees, his voice and words had less of the usual absurdity and more of the clarity of the bright moon. The gentle breeze swept over their sleeves, tangling the pearl-colored skirt with the pine-green robe, reducing the sense of discord and adding harmony.

Chu Qiao raised her hand to brush aside her messy hair. Li Ce looked at her, his eyes suddenly becoming more serious.

“Though Da Xia is in chaos now, with various lords restless and rebels rising, its roots run deep. The foundation of a hundred years remains stable. Though storms may come, as long as the helm is held steady, recovery is as easy as turning over one’s hand. By contrast, the Yan Bei regime, though appearing formidable, forcing Da Xia to relocate its capital in retreat, is internally unstable with fragmented power. To the north, the Dog Rong covet it; to the south, Da Xia watches like a tiger. Moreover, it’s not recognized by other political regimes—truly like sailing against the current. With the slightest carelessness, both boat and people could perish.”

After saying this, Li Ce suddenly smiled, plucking the Youyan flower, and with a bewitching smile, said, “Yan Bei and Da Xia are like the Youyan and the ancient tree. The night is only temporary. When daylight comes, the high and low will be immediately apparent, victory and defeat instantly decided.”

A gust of wind blew, and the purple flower was carried away, quickly scattered into the clear green lake, disappearing with the ripples.

Chu Qiao looked at Li Ce and suddenly felt as if a thick fog had risen before her eyes, making everything unclear and impenetrable.

Much later, when she related Li Ce’s words to Yan Xun, the man was sitting on horseback. The piercing Yan Bei wind swept across his brow and eyes, with fine snowflakes brushing his sideburns. The man didn’t show the momentary surprise she had felt that day; he just remained silent for a long while. After a long time, he finally spoke in a low voice, “If that’s the case, then let this long night never end.”

At that time, she didn’t understand Yan Xun’s words. She just quietly thought that Li Ce ultimately didn’t understand Yan Xun. Da Xia was indeed like an ancient tree with deep roots, sprawling across the entire Red River Plain. However, besides having the advantages of an ancient tree, it also had too many branches and leaves. These branches and leaves needed nutrients, moisture, and sunlight. Like vampires, they depended on the tree’s roots, each with its flourishing branches and multiplying offspring, creating separate competing regimes.

And Yan Bei, though fragile, had the tenacious vitality of the Youyan flower. It could grow with just an inch of soil, quietly hibernating in both severe winter and scorching summer, waiting for the right moment. And Yan Xun himself, how could he wait quietly for dawn to watch his destruction, to observe himself turn to ashes?

But these were all matters of much later. On that cold moonlit night, Chu Qiao gazed at Li Ce, suddenly feeling that she had never truly seen through him. Beneath that exterior that laughed at worldly affairs and defied conventions, too many things were hidden, so deep like a thousand-fathom pool, with water shimmering mysteriously, impossible to fathom. And it was just now that this man had slightly opened the door to his heart for a moment, allowing her shadow to enter shallowly.

She asked softly, “Li Ce, are you my friend?”

Li Ce laughed like a fox, seemingly irrelevantly replying, “I am the Crown Prince of Bian Tang.”

Chu Qiao remained unmoved and continued to ask, “Will you help us attack Da Xia?”

Li Ce shook his head, answering softly, “No.”

“Then will you help Da Xia attack us?”

Li Ce was slightly taken aback, then smiled, “Pei Luo Zhenhuang once took eighteen prefectures of Red River from Bian Tang. For a hundred years, the two countries have been in constant conflict. No matter how shameless or reckless I may be, I can’t sit by and become a criminal in my family’s history.”

Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“In the war between Da Xia and Yan Bei, Bian Tang will help neither side. Even if Zhao Zhengde married his daughter to me, or even his mother, it would be useless, haha!”

Li Ce suddenly burst into laughter as he spoke. Chu Qiao’s lips curved slightly, and she smiled slowly. “In that case, you are my friend.”

The girl slowly extended her hand, her eyes bright, her lips curved in a smile.

Li Ce was laughing heartily, but seeing her expression, he was momentarily startled. But in an instant, the man smiled lightly, and like Chu Qiao, slowly extended his hand, clasping hers firmly!

Then Chu Qiao smiled gently. She looked at Li Ce with bright eyes, her smile suddenly so dazzling. She tilted her head slightly, her chin pointed, and the moonlight fell on her face like fine silk, creating a dizzying, translucent glow.

She smiled and said, “Li Ce, Yan Bei is not the Youyan flower, and we are not mayflies. The tree of Da Xia, though large enough, has roots that have begun to rot. A few aspiring princes alone cannot support it. Haven’t you heard? He who wins the hearts of the people wins the world.”

At that moment, Li Ce suddenly felt blinded. He frowned slightly, murmuring, “He who wins the hearts of the people wins the world?”

Chu Qiao began to laugh softly. For these regimes that had been ruled by slave systems for too long, such words might truly seem inconceivable. She nodded, looking ahead, and slowly said, “The monarch rules the people, and the power of the people is unlimited. All armies, weapons, silver, and grain come from those slaves and commoners who are despised and belittled by the nobility. They are the most tolerant people; just for a mouthful of food, just for a plot of land, they are willing to give up most of their grain to support others. But what if they can no longer survive?”

Chu Qiao turned to look steadily at Li Ce, saying solemnly, “No one is willing to wait helplessly for death, Li Ce. If all the people in the world oppose you, can your rule remain stable?”

Li Ce was stunned, frowning as he said, “How is that possible?”

Chu Qiao smiled. “Why not? Do things that have never happened before never occur? Three hundred years ago, did you ever imagine that a foreign tribe from beyond the border would rise, cross the Yin Mountains, occupy the eighteen prefectures of Red River, and establish themselves as kings, standing as equals with Bian Tang? Did you ever imagine that the family leader Nalan would rebel against the empire and establish Huai Song independently?”

Li Ce immediately fell silent, his brows tightly knit.

Chu Qiao smiled lightly. Perhaps the current empires were like China’s Xia Dynasty in history. Because they had never been questioned by the common people, they believed their authority was divinely granted, believing that those lowly people would submit and endure for thousands of years.

“Li Ce, you’ll see, everything has already changed, and clinging to past glory won’t work. Sooner or later, you’ll see how powerful angry masses can be. That power is enough to move mountains and fill seas, to summon wind and rain, to turn the world upside down. Da Xia, Yan Bei, Bian Tang, Huai Song, and even the foreign Dog Rong tribes beyond the border—before this power, they will all be as weak as ants. Whoever can adapt to the situation will be the final winner.”

Li Ce’s face no longer showed the slightest smile. He frowned, staring at Chu Qiao without saying a word.

Chu Qiao turned to face him, smiling as she said in a deep voice, “Li Ce, you are my friend, so I hope that when the great wave comes, you won’t be the first to be swept away.”

A cold wind blew, and the man’s eyes suddenly grew distant, followed by a flash of sharp brilliance, like a piercing arrow. He stared at Chu Qiao without blinking or speaking. The wind blew between them, cold, carrying the desolation of the night. After a long time, he softened. He laughed lightly, then said, “Qiaoqiao, I’ve never heard such words before, but I find them interesting. I’ll consider them carefully.”

Chu Qiao knew that at that moment, Li Ce had harbored thoughts of killing her.

But ultimately, he didn’t act.

Although they represented different powers, different positions, and different regimes.

As she had said, they were friends, or perhaps something else. Only, they couldn’t quite define it themselves.

Suddenly, Chu Qiao understood something that had puzzled her for many years—why, among so many vassal kings, the Emperor of Da Xia had targeted Yan Bei first, why he had killed Yan Shicheng, who was most loyal to him. If the emperor wanted to reduce the power of vassal states, shouldn’t he have started with other kings? Like the Duke of Ling, or the Duke of Jing, or those defiant iron-capped nobles?

But now, she suddenly understood. The reason was simple: it was because the Da Tong Association had entered Yan Bei, and Yan Shicheng had accepted new ideas. Different flowers had bloomed on the cold Yan Bei plateau, bearing different fruits. From a standpoint of position, Yan Bei had already diverged from the empire.

It was like a capitalist country suddenly having a political party loudly advocating that all property should be communized—it was impossible to accept or allow.

It was open hostility, an unforgivable betrayal.

Although at that time, the King of Yan Bei might not have anticipated this outcome, and even today, he still might not know what he had done wrong.

Chu Qiao sighed gently, her voice soft, slowly dissipating in the quiet wind.

What Chu Qiao didn’t know was that on that night, those words had changed the fate of many people. Sometimes, she was like a seed, unintentionally sowing green sprouts. These seeds lay hidden beneath the covering of ice and snow, quietly waiting for the right moment. By the time spring arrived and flowers bloomed, they had already set their roots very deep.

“Qiaoqiao,” Li Ce suddenly turned to her. He frowned slightly, seeming to have deliberated for a long time, before asking, “Can you tell me? Why are you so confident? You’re different from those brainwashed members of the Da Tong Association I’ve met. What makes you so certain? Is it because… of Yan Xun?”

“No,” Chu Qiao shook her head. She smiled lightly, then said, “Because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Li Ce was immediately stunned. “What?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Chu Qiao gazed at the tranquil green lake, her lips curving into a light smile.

No one would understand. Yes, she had seen it with her own eyes. She knew how this world would develop. The old system would inevitably die, and a new system would be born.

I believe that all we need is a guide.

“Li Ce, do you understand? This is my faith, the meaning of my existence.”