The room was completely silent, with only occasional night crows flapping their wings as they flew past the window, gliding over withered leaves and bare branches. The wind whirled snow with a rustling sound, and moonlight shone through the window frames onto the ground, surrounding a pool of candlelight and, ultimately a dim yellowish glow.

When Yan Xun came, it was already very late. His sparse footsteps sounded like a leaking water clock, quietly approaching from a distance. The maids in front of the door knelt neatly, their knees hitting the snow. There was the sound of snowflakes being crushed, piercingly cold. A young girl’s voice, carrying hints of reverence and timidity, trembled as she said: “Your Highness, the young miss has already gone to bed.”

The snow and wind suddenly seemed to intensify, subtly covering the unavoidable silence and awkwardness. Trees swayed, and the moonlight fluctuated, just a faint gray shadow that cast itself through the window frames—a patch of pale, dead water. The gray shadow stood by the window, neither speaking nor leaving, thin yet straight-backed. The crescent moon was a thin curve, and in the dim light, everything appeared desolate. The cold air squeezed in from outside the window but was instantly devoured by the flames in the ground fire pit.

“Is the young miss sleeping well?”

The rich voice sounded faint, showing neither obvious joy nor resentment at being stopped outside. He just asked calmly, adding: “Has the doctor come to see her?”

“The young miss suffered some minor injuries, but nothing serious,” the maid answered obediently.

“Oh,” Yan Xun replied, then asked: “What did she have for dinner?”

“She only drank half a bowl of plain porridge.”

Yan Xun nodded silently. The shadow by the window carried a hint of icy tenderness: “She might get hungry at night. Keep some food warm for her, and stay alert. Don’t fall asleep.”

“This servant understands.”

Yan Xun stood in the corridor, his figure slender and solitary. Outside, the weather was so cold, with snow and wind swirling on the ground, dancing back and forth. The moonlight was hazy, illuminating a white expanse. He stood in the center of that light and shadow, slightly lowering his head, and softly said toward the tightly closed window: “Chu Qiao, I’m leaving now.”

A small gust of wind whistled by, blowing the ink-black hair at the man’s temples. Yan Xun turned around and stepped down the stairs, lifting his feet lightly but placing them somewhat heavily.

The people outside gradually walked farther away. Chu Qiao lay on the bed. The cold crescent moon in the sky seemed still to be the same one from many years ago in the Sacred Gold Palace. In the dimly lit Oriole Song Pavilion, drops of crimson blood had seeped through her fingers. Back then, the child with pitch-black eyes like bright stars had frowned with bloodshot whites of her eyes. Coolness rose from the bottom of her heart, like lingering water. Time had passed, but hearts had not faded, and what had changed was far more than just him.

How much suffering had they endured, and who remembered it? By not speaking of it, one might think it was forgotten.

Suddenly she became anxious, throwing off the covers and not even putting on outer clothes, she ran out of the inner chamber barefoot. With a bang, she pulled the door open, and a strong wind immediately blew her disheveled black hair. The maids screamed in unison, unable to stop her in time. The woman in white soft clothes had already rushed out of the courtyard.

“Young miss!” The maids anxiously chased after her, their voices so loud they startled the man walking ahead.

However, just as he turned his head, a slender shadow suddenly threw herself into his arms with such force that Yan Xun slightly staggered. His face showed full surprise, but when his hands touched her, he felt only thin clothes. Yan Xun frowned and lightly scolded: “Chu Qiao, how could you run out wearing so little?”

Chu Qiao said nothing, just stretched out her arms and tightly hugged the man’s waist, pressing her forehead firmly against his chest. The familiar scent returned to her nose, so warm that she almost wanted to fall asleep. Her eyes grew moist, and tears suddenly fell, wetting his clothes at the chest, soaking through layer by layer.

She raised her head, her eyes red-rimmed, just staring at him steadily. The man wore plain clothes and had long eyebrows, still that familiar face, but with added signs of travel weariness and fatigue. Suddenly withdrawing from the front lines was a major military taboo. How much mental effort and energy must it have taken to return safely and quickly to Yan Bei? And what kind of iron hand was needed to pacify the dissatisfied voices in the army? These things were unknown to her.

“You came back?” she asked.

Yan Xun smiled slightly, his mouth corners soft, covering all his fatigue and hardship. He just nodded quietly: “With you here, I would not fail to return.”

Faintly, it seemed like they had returned to that snowy night eight years ago. The youth who was still being hunted had led troops back to rescue the little slave who had fallen into the hands of her former master. Faced with the child’s questioning, he had just smiled and said, “If I didn’t come back, what would become of you?”

Time passed in an instant. Eight years and so many things in this world had changed, yet there was still only them, still standing together, still holding hands side by side.

With a light lift, she was carried up in his arms. Yan Xun’s brows furrowed slightly as he looked down at Chu Qiao in his arms and said: “Chu Qiao, how did you get so thin?”

Chu Qiao looked up, her fingers lightly clutching Yan Xun’s collar, and said softly: “Because I missed you.”

Yan Xun’s expression froze slightly. It was indeed shocking. Over the years, although they had relied on each other, they rarely exchanged such words. The warmth finally covered him layer by layer, like scalding water. He wrapped Chu Qiao in a cloak and chuckled: “I’ve lost weight too.”

The servants all sighed in relief. The snow and wind stopped. Yan Xun carried Chu Qiao and strode into the room. After days of military life, he had to return to coordinate the pursuit of Xia troops and internal city defense. Affairs were complex and numerous. Despite such longing, he could only rush over in the deep night. Taking off his outer cloak, his inner clothes were full of dust from the road. He ordered the servants to heat the water. The two sat facing each other in the room, with thousands of words to say, yet not knowing where to begin.

“Chu Qiao…”

“No need to say more!” Chu Qiao quickly stopped him, as if unwilling to bring it up, her voice slightly hoarse: “That you came back is enough.”

The lamplight shone on the young woman’s pale face. Yan Xun suddenly felt a cold sensation in his heart. In these days, how much had she suffered?

“After all, I still deceived you. I’m sorry.”

“Haven’t I also threatened you?” Chu Qiao smiled faintly: “That’s what I truly thought at the time. I would stay here and refuse to leave, to see if you would come back.”

Yan Xun nodded and smiled: “All my life, whenever I’ve tried to argue with you, I’ve never won once.”

The Great Xia mobilized troops, a large army attacked, and North Shuo launched a thunderous battle. Yan Xun led his army into Great Xia’s interior. During this time, how many people died in the flames of war, how many died unjustly, and how many soldiers would never again see their hometown lovers and children? Blood seeped into the earth, and white bones piled into mountains. Such a campaign, capable of reversing the fate of the entire continent, was in their mouths merely a few light and casual sentences.

“Chu Qiao, I have something to give you.”

Hot water was brought in and poured bucket by bucket into the enormous bath. Chu Qiao stood by the pool testing the water temperature with her hand. Hearing Yan Xun’s words, she turned her head and asked: “What is it?”

It was a very plain ring, without any elaborate style, made of white jade with a circle of fine patterns. Looking carefully, they were simple crape myrtle flowers.

“When did you buy this?”

“I don’t remember.” Many years ago, perhaps. After hearing her casually mention her hometown customs, he often spent his spare time polishing that piece of Hetian jade. One year, two years, three years, five years—it had been finished long ago, but he never dared to give it to her, only because back then he was too weak and had nothing but hatred. So he kept waiting and waiting, wanting to find the right time, the right place, yet gradually it had been so many years.

Without even thinking, she put it on the ring finger of her left hand, then held it up, looking at it foolishly before smiling: “It’s beautiful.”

The curtain was lowered. Yan Xun was bathing inside while Chu Qiao sat outside waiting, just like many years ago. When someone is bathing, it’s the time when their guard is lowest, so they were always accustomed to one keeping watch outside while the other bathed.

The curtains were layer upon layer, perfumed with pleasant fragrances. There was no wind in the room, yet the curtains still moved slightly. Yan Xun’s voice came from inside: “Chu Qiao, the face towel.”

Chu Qiao quickly picked up the white face towel, extending her arm through the curtain. Their fingertips lightly touched, scalding hot. Chu Qiao hurriedly withdrew her hand, asking a bit awkwardly: “Is the water hot?”

“It’s fine.”

The sound of water splashed loudly. Chu Qiao sat outside resting her chin on her palm, and they chatted intermittently.

“Yan Xun, were you injured this time?”

“No, I didn’t go to the front line.”

Steam gradually spread out from inside, making the room warm.

“Why did Huai Song cooperate with us in conducting military exercises at the border? Do you know their Princess Imperial?”

The man said: “We’ve only met a few times, I can’t say I know her, but I have a friend in Huai Song who mediated this matter.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Chu Qiao, are your injuries serious? Where are you hurt?”

“Nothing important, just some minor scrapes.”

The room gradually grew quiet. After a long time, Chu Qiao suddenly spoke: “Yan Xun, in the future, don’t keep things from me anymore.”

The person inside didn’t respond. Chu Qiao waited for a long time without an answer. She couldn’t help but call out twice more: “Yan Xun?”

Still no answer. Chu Qiao became a bit anxious, lifting the curtain and running barefoot. She saw Yan Xun sitting in the water pool, his head resting against the wall, asleep. His brows were slightly furrowed, his face full of fatigue.

Five days and five nights without rest, he was truly exhausted. Only now, having put down all his worries and vigilance, could he sleep like this.

Suddenly, all her resentment disappeared without a trace. Right and wrong, how could they be explained clearly in a single sentence? The flowing blood on the Nine Abyss Platform, the cautious steps in the quiet palace—she had accompanied him through it all. She knew well the depth of that hatred, the intensity of that resentment. The oath “Survive, kill them all!” still echoed in her ears. So many jeers and insults, so many hidden arrows and cold glances, so much humiliation and anger—all were like seeds of a butcher’s knife, planted deep in their hearts long ago. Breaking down the towering palace gates of Sacred Gold Palace, shattering the mighty walls of Zhen Huang City—what passion and strength it took! But ultimately, he turned his army around at her word. How could she not understand the feelings behind this?

Days of conviction had today transformed into conflicted emotions: resentment, regret, joy, sorrow, knots in her heart, yet also gratitude. She had been constantly swayed by two completely different emotions until just now when he gently told her he was leaving and turned to go, and she suddenly understood her true feelings.

Sunset, warhorse, sword, soldiers’ shouts, civilians’ screams—war devoured everything, including people’s beliefs and conscience. But it could never devour the feelings between them.

She didn’t receive the trust of the person she served loyally. She desperately defended the city, countless soldiers lost their lives for this, the rivers were filled with blood, and white bones floated away. As a commander, she should feel resentment and bitterness, strong discontent and unwillingness. But as a woman, she had received a sentiment heavier than mountains. Kingdom versus beauty, imperial ambitions versus two hearts in accord—he had given her a definite answer in an instant. What right did she have to feel discontent and resentment?

When she woke up, Chu Qiao was sleeping beside him, her forehead smooth. Her small body was curled up, still tightly grasping his hand. Outside it was still dark. Yan Xun wore a loose robe as he stood by the window. Outside lay snow-covered mountains. It was still the sky and land of Yan Bei, even the wind was biting cold. This place remained barren and cold, seemingly always this way. Even when his father implemented benevolent policies, life here was still poor and difficult. But why, when he used to think of Yan Bei, did he stubbornly believe it was a place of birdsong, flowers, abundance, and beauty?

Perhaps, it was truly as Lady Yu said—he had changed. His heart had grown larger, his vision had extended farther, and the things he wanted to possess had increased. Besides avenging and hating, other deep-rooted things had taken root in his heart. He had always felt there was nothing wrong with this. Years of experience had taught him the importance of power and strength. Without these, everything would be like a bird without wings—unable to fly.

But now, he suddenly felt somewhat afraid.

He had almost killed her. Just thinking about it made his hair stand on end, feeling extremely cold.

He looked out into the pitch-black window as if seeing again that vast land east of the Red Water. He could still recall that morning when his troops pointed toward Yan Ming Pass, how full of ambition and hot-blooded he had been. What a pity. However, Great Xia still stood there, and if he had returned one day later, what would have happened to Chu Qiao? He took a deep breath. Fortunately…

Her fingers felt cold. The bed was empty. Opening her eyes, she immediately saw Yan Xun’s silhouette standing by the window, black, seeming somewhat heavy.

“Yan Xun?” she called softly, her voice still carrying sleepy haziness. The man turned around. In the darkness, his eyes flickered with light that couldn’t be seen, making it impossible to discern what emotions they held.

“You’re awake.”

“Yes, what are you thinking about?”

Yan Xun walked over and gently embraced her body, saying faintly: “Nothing in particular.”

Chu Qiao’s face pressed against his chest, listening to his steady, powerful heartbeat through the thin fabric. It seemed that only at this moment did she truly feel certain that he had returned.

“Yan Xun, do you regret it?”

Yan Xun’s eyes were pitch-black, his arms tightening slightly: “No.”

“Will you regret it in the future?”

Yan Xun fell silent. Chu Qiao’s heart gradually grew cold, her muscles tensing. After a long while, she heard him say softly: “I regret coming back so late.”

Her nose suddenly felt sour. Chu Qiao buried her head against him, then closed her eyes, tightly pursing her lips.

What more could she hope for? One shouldn’t be too self-centered. Even though they were together day and night, how much of his suffering could she share? That grief of losing his entire family, that hatred accumulated over years—how much could she truly understand? As long as he still remembered her, still thought of her, cared for her, it was enough.

“Yan Xun, in the future, you can’t keep things from me anymore.”

“Mm,” Yan Xun nodded, “Alright.”

Chu Qiao fell into dreams once more. In her dream, it was warm and sweet. Someone held her hand, so firmly, as if they would never let go for a lifetime. She vaguely thought she seemed to have had this dream before, but where? Ah, yes, it was in Bian Tang, a warm and beautiful place, full of flowers, but she felt it wasn’t as warm as Yan Bei. Standing on this land, her heart was damp and warm, even though outside the mountains were like iron and the vast plains covered in evening snow.

The next day when she woke up, Yan Xun was already gone. Chu Qiao was wondering why she had slept so long when Jing Zisu suddenly walked in, smiling and saying: “Moon, wash your face.”

Chu Qiao stood up and quickly went forward to take the basin, saying: “Sister Zisu, you don’t need to do these things.”

Jing Zisu smiled kindly: “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

After washing her face, Chu Qiao saw Jing Zisu standing awkwardly in front of her, so she asked: “Sister Zisu, do you have something to say?”

“Not… not really.”

Chu Qiao smiled, making a move to leave: “In that case, I’ll go do my work.”

“Wait!” Jing Zisu quickly grabbed her. Seeing her smiling at herself, she blushed and slowly said: “Just now, His Highness sent someone to deliver this.”

Chu Qiao looked and saw it was a thick stack of white papers. She took it and couldn’t help but laugh: “I thought it was something special, but it turns out it’s about finding a husband for elder sister.”

Chu Qiao casually flipped through and saw that Yan Xun had found mostly civil officials and military staff officers, mainly officials from the Second Army. She immediately understood his intention and felt somewhat moved. The peace in Yan Bei was only temporary. Yan Xun feared that military commanders would go to the battlefield in the future, and if anything went wrong, it would affect the Jing sisters’ lifelong happiness.

“That’s good, Sister Zisu, you’re at the age to find a husband.”

Jing Zisu’s face was red, and after hesitating for a while, she finally said: “Moon, do you not understand?”

Chu Qiao was stunned, asking: “What?”

“If we three elder sisters don’t marry, you can’t get married either.”

Hearing this, Chu Qiao stood there dumbfounded. Jing Zisu looked at her smilingly, reaching out to tap her cheek, laughing: “Silly girl, His Highness has endless concerns for you.”

Outside, the weather was truly beautiful and sunny. Chu Qiao was stunned for quite a while when suddenly she heard the sound of firecrackers outside. Someone ran in joyfully to report: “Young Miss, Master Wu, and Lady Yu have entered the city.”

Jing Zisu clasped her hands together and said: “Amitabha Buddha, it’s finally peaceful. Yan Bei will not be at war anymore.”

Chu Qiao felt peaceful in her heart, a gentle tranquility.

Peace is wonderful.