The winter snow had just cleared, and sunlight as thin as mist sparsely fell through the tree shadows, forming a warm arch. After Yan Xun’s return, even the weather seemed to have brightened. The sky was blue and high, the sun brilliant, the snow-covered landscape vast, faintly reflecting bright light that dazzled the eyes.

The recent string of great battles had not only left Yan Bei devastated but also exhausted Chu Qiao physically and mentally. After relaxing, she immediately fell seriously ill—cold, high fever, and constant coughing at night. Bowl after bowl of medicine went down without improvement. Doctors came and went like lanterns in a show. Though her door was always closed, she could often hear Yan Xun losing his temper with the doctors. Yet whenever he saw her, he was as calm as if nothing had happened, occasionally reassuring her: “It’s nothing, just a small cold. Rest a bit and you’ll be fine.”

It seemed she hadn’t been this sick for a very long time. In her memory, it was still a childhood event. Yan Xun had been sick, and she had no medicine, so she went to steal some. She was caught and beaten severely, but the medicine she obtained through great hardship couldn’t make Yan Xun better. Instead, he caught another chill trying to save her and developed a fever at night, talking deliriously. Unable to use cold water directly, she ran outside to crouch in the snow, and after getting thoroughly cold, returned to hold him. After struggling through the night like this, Yan Xun woke up the next day, but she fell gravely ill. Since then, she had always feared the cold. Even sitting by a fire, her limbs remained cold. However, over these many years, through the hardships of life, the difficulties of the journey, and the uninterrupted succession of upheavals and killings, even when she was sick or in pain, she could always endure through willpower. Now, having collapsed all at once, she was confined to a sickbed.

Looking back on those cautious, suffering days now, they all seemed so distant. Back then, she had hated them so much, secretly vowing that someday she would escape such miserable circumstances and make all those who had bullied her pay the price. But now she often found herself nostalgically distracted, missing that desolate quietness when there were just the two of them in the world, missing those days when they had no branch to lean on and could only keep warm against each other’s backs.

Lady Yu came in the afternoon. The afternoon light was bright, pouring in through the window frames in circles, painting mottled shadows on the ground. Lady Yu was still the same—plain eyebrows and eyes, eyes like autumn waters, a long neck, a delicately pointed chin, and cheeks bearing a hint of paleness. Dressed in a long white fur coat, she entered silently, standing at the doorway without making a sound, just quietly waiting for Chu Qiao to notice her.

Suddenly seeing her, Chu Qiao was slightly startled. She sat up supporting herself on the bedpost and said in a somewhat hoarse voice: “Lady Yu, when did you arrive? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lady Yu stepped forward, her mouth corners curving into a smile: “Just arrived a moment ago. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Please sit.”

Lady Yu sat across from her bed, examined her carefully, then slightly frowned and said: “How did you get so sick?”

She picked up an outer garment and draped it over Chu Qiao’s shoulders. Chu Qiao leaned against the soft pillow, her face pale, her lips completely bloodless, and smiled slightly: “I think I caught a cold in the past few days.”

Lady Yu looked at her, sighed softly, and said in a low voice: “You’ve always been a stubborn child. Have you developed a chronic illness at such a young age?”

Lady Yu should be around twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, not old, but her words and actions always gave people a sense of world-weariness, as if Chu Qiao truly were just a child in her eyes.

“It’s all right. I’ll get better with some rest.”

“That’s true. Illness comes like a collapsing mountain but leaves like drawing silk. You should rest with peace of mind and think of nothing. Too much worry also harms the body.”

Chu Qiao nodded, suddenly remembering something, and asked: “Lady Yu, have you seen the officers of the Southwestern Garrison?”

Lady Yu’s eyes flashed slightly, and she said lightly: “I just said not to worry too much. Have you forgotten so quickly?”

Chu Qiao shook her head slightly: “I’m just a bit concerned.”

“If His Highness was willing to withdraw troops from Yan Ming Pass for your sake, wouldn’t he tolerate a mere Southwestern Garrison?”

Having her intentions suddenly exposed, Chu Qiao felt somewhat embarrassed. She remained silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: “I’m just afraid those people are unruly and might offend him. If he loses his temper…”

Lady Yu draped an outer robe over her and chuckled lightly: “Don’t worry, everyone knows their boundaries.”

Chu Qiao felt relieved and looked up to ask: “Will Lady Yu stay in North Shuo?”

Outside, the sunlight was extravagant, shining brightly in her eyes. Lady Yu said softly: “War is about to break out in the east. I won’t stay long, perhaps in a few days, I’ll have to station at Yan Ming.”

Chu Qiao said seriously: “Is Great Xia sending troops to attack so quickly?”

“How could Great Xia simply let it go after His Highness occupied the northwest? I hear they’ve already started mobilizing troops.”

“So quickly? Who’s coming? Zhao Che?”

Lady Yu smiled: “Besides him, who else? Meng Tian is already old, and the one in Sacred Gold Palace probably doesn’t trust others. Even with this son, he harbors some reservations.”

Chu Qiao nodded. The room was warm, with incense burning over the charcoal fire in the ground, making one drowsy and want to sleep. “Lady Yu must be careful. Zhao Che is not like Zhao Qi; he’s not easy to deal with.”

“No need to worry. Dao Cliff will accompany me,” Lady Yu smiled slightly, with traces of lightness in her eyes, and her expression became peaceful.

Chu Qiao understood in her heart but didn’t point it out, merely saying: “If Master Wu is also going, that will be much more secure.”

“You should rest. I have matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave.”

Chu Qiao nodded: “Lady Yu, thank you for what happened before.”

Lady Yu’s footsteps faltered slightly. She turned her head, her eye corners light and calm: “Chu Qiao truly has a clever heart with seven apertures.”

Chu Qiao, being ill, couldn’t get out of bed and only nodded slightly: “Take care, Lady Yu.”

After Lady Yu left, a maid came in to bring Chu Qiao medicine. She picked up the medicine bowl and drank it sip by sip. The medicine was bitter, and her mouth felt astringent.

There wasn’t much to guess. With Yan Xun’s intelligence, how could he not have had a perfect plan? The reason he left Lady Yu behind was to receive her. But when in North Shuo, Lady Yu didn’t take the initiative to bring her to Blue City, and afterward repeatedly allowed her to act on her own. Finally, she truthfully conveyed the news of Yan Xun’s attack on Great Xia. The deeper meaning of all this was, of course, clear without being stated. Yan Xun entrusted this matter to her because he trusted her loyalty. Unfortunately, though Zhong Yu was loyal when the interests of Yan Bei and Yan Xun came into conflict, her loyalty was greatly discounted. At this point, she understood, and how could Yan Xun not understand it as well? So even though Yan Bei currently faced battles on two fronts at Mei Lin Pass and the eastern line, he still sent Wu Dao Cliff to Lady Yu’s side, not letting her hold power alone. And Lady Yu clearly understood all this but was unwilling to point it out. Perhaps she truly didn’t mind. Perhaps compared to power, being with Master Wu was what made her happier.

Lady Yu was indeed a wise person. She and Master Wu both came from Dragon Lying Mountain, and their teacher was the world-renowned Master Dragon Lying. Master Dragon Lying was an extraordinary recluse, said to be over a hundred years old. His disciples were spread throughout the world, from noble families and imperial relatives at the top to peddlers and merchants at the bottom. This master’s knowledge encompassed everything under heaven, and he didn’t care about social status when accepting disciples, only teaching different knowledge according to the different aptitudes of his disciples. Thus, among his students were scholarly masters full of learning, prime ministers and grand councilors with lofty ambitions, military generals commanding armies on battlefields, nimble assassins, wealthy merchants, and skilled craftsmen and blacksmiths…

Master Dragon Lying had many disciples, but they varied in quality. For example, there was the seventy-year-old prime minister of Bian Tang, Cheng Wen Jing; the Eastern Land traitor Yue Shao Cong, who betrayed Great Xia forty years ago by leading the Dog Rong in through the passes; and the outstanding young general of the contemporary number one rebel group, the Great Unity Association, Wu Dao Cliff Zhong Yu. And there was one person Chu Qiao could not forget—the fourth young master of the Zhuge Clan of Great Xia, Zhuge Yue.

Zhao Che was about to lead troops to attack. Would he come as well?

Chu Qiao sighed lightly and drained the medicine bowl in one go.

The battlefield was dangerous, swords and blades merciless. He wouldn’t come—hopefully, he wouldn’t.

She took a nap in the afternoon and woke up feeling much better. After being cooped up in the room for several days, she wanted to go out for some activity. She wore a Suzhou blue cotton dress with a small overlapping jacket embroidered with yellow-rust white magnolias, narrow sleeves fitting tightly to her arms, gathered into lantern shapes, making her figure appear even more slender, not filling a grasp. A maid coiled her hair into a bun, with slight drapes on both sides, adorned with a few crimson ornaments. A light blue jade hairpin was inserted at her temples, with a string of fine tassels hanging down, occasionally brushing against her ear lobes, which were as white as congealed lard.

Chu Qiao rarely wore such feminine clothes. She looked in the mirror for a long time, feeling somewhat novel, but also quietly happy.

Opening the door, the wind was strong. The maids wanted to follow, but Chu Qiao declined and walked out alone, holding a small horn lantern.

It was still Yan Bei’s winter. Though the drifting snow mist looked desolately beautiful, it was very cold. Fortunately, she was dressed warmly and had a fox fur coat over her outer garments. A thin crescent moon hung above, its light pure and clear over the white landscape. Not having left the room for many days, all she had smelled was either medicine or incense, making her dizzy and headache. Now, coming out for a walk, she immediately felt clear-headed and clear-eyed, and her illness seemed to improve somewhat.

The moonlight was so beautiful, like candlelight filtered through a sky-blue gauze curtain, as thin as smoke. The wind blew through the leaves, making rustling sounds. Chu Qiao walked slowly, then stood far away under the window of Yan Xun’s study. He seemed to have just returned from the military camp and hadn’t gone to bed. The light was so bright, casting a long shadow—tall and straight. There were others in the study; they seemed to be discussing something. The wind rose, and the voices were too muffled for her to hear.

Her heart suddenly felt so peaceful, like opening a window in the morning to find the world pure white, with warm sunlight on her face, the sky azure, and snow-white eagles soaring with outstretched wings. A cup of clear tea was placed on the desk, its curling steam rising and spiraling like a meandering dragon.

For a very long time, she had been unclear about her feelings for Yan Xun. When she first came to this place, she viewed the world’s many injustices with the cold, observant eyes of a modern person. Gradually, she was drawn in, and thus came worry, anger, resentment, kindness, and gratitude. More and more emotions pulled her into this world. Flesh and blood gradually formed, and she could no longer stand aside and just watch. As for Yan Xun, from initial hatred to gratitude, to sympathy and pity, to mutual dependence, and then gradually, as they grew up, feelings slowly transformed. Those unspeakable thoughts broke ground in her heart unintentionally, sprouting fresh, tender green buds that endured frost, survived the depths of winter, went through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and experienced life-and-death battles, until that tender green shoot finally grew into a towering tree. Occasionally looking up, she saw lush branches and leaves, rich and verdant.

She had always been such a silent and stubborn person, always.

The door of the study opened, and people walked out one after another. A Jin’s eyes were sharp; seeing Chu Qiao standing under the plum tree, he suddenly called out. Yan Xun heard and immediately ran out of the room. Seeing her, his brows immediately furrowed: “Why are you standing there alone? Don’t you know you’re still sick?”

Chu Qiao smiled and allowed Yan Xun to take her hand. The man’s face looked quite severe as he glared at her, clasping her hand in his palm and gripping it tightly. He complained: “So cold! How long have you been here?”

“Just a little while.”

As soon as they entered the room, a warm fragrance suddenly wafted over them. Chu Qiao sniffed and murmured: “What incense is so fragrant?”

Upon hearing this, Yan Xun’s face suddenly changed drastically. He quickly pushed Chu Qiao to the door, took a teapot, and poured water into the incense burner. White steam immediately rose with a hissing sound. Then he hurriedly opened the windows.

Chu Qiao frowned: “Yan Xun, what are you doing?”

Yan Xun dusted off his hands as he walked out and said gravely: “We can’t stay in this room. Let’s go.”

With that, he pulled Chu Qiao into his bedchamber.

There was no incense burning in Yan Xun’s bedchamber, making it smell much cleaner. Chu Qiao still found it strange. Seeing him take a towel from the maid Lan Xiang to wipe his face, she stepped forward and asked: “Yan Xun, what happened in the study?”

“They just sent new Shuhe incense, and I lit half a block. It contains musk.”

“Musk?” Chu Qiao didn’t know much about incense and frowned as she asked: “What’s wrong with musk?”

The little maid Lan Xiang burst into a giggle and said with a smile: “Young miss, women shouldn’t smell musk. If they smell too much, they won’t be able to conceive. Of course, His Highness is worried.”

After speaking, Lan Xiang herself blushed deeply. The other little maids collectively giggled. Yan Xun wasn’t angry and pretended not to care, but he glanced sideways to observe Chu Qiao’s reaction.

Hearing this, Chu Qiao was slightly stunned. Being a girl after all, redness gradually spread across her cheeks, like begonia petals, especially charming. The candlelight shone on her light blue, flowing skirt, like a layer of shimmering merfolk silk.

Low laughter pressed against her ear, and the man’s warm breath was like gentle seawater: “Chu Qiao, you’re extremely beautiful tonight.”

Chu Qiao raised her eyes, her gaze carrying some delight. The bedchamber was enormous, with soft, thick carpets laid below. Layers of gauze curtains descended one after another, with golden hooks and tassels—a scene of luxury. The bed was draped in purple embroidery, with blue gauze surrounding it. The brocade quilt looked warm; just one glance was enough to know the warmth of lying on it. Yan Xun extended his hand, and the maids came forward like clouds to change his clothes. Seeing this, Chu Qiao was slightly stunned and with a “Ya!” turned around. Seeing this, Yan Xun laughed softly, making Chu Qiao’s face redden even more.

Combining her past and present lives, she wasn’t exactly young, and she had seen her fair share of romantic scenes. Being with Yan Xun day and night for so many years, they hadn’t always been as cautious and proper as moralists. But today, she felt somewhat at a loss.

The maids withdrew from the room with knowing looks, layer upon layer of gauze curtains sectioning off the space. Yan Xun’s warm breath approached from behind, carrying a husky laugh: “My Chu Qiao has grown up and knows how to be shy.”

Her usual quick wit suddenly disappeared without a trace. Yan Xun’s hands encircled her from behind, crossing at her abdomen. His lips pressed against her ear, sighing softly: “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Chu Qiao felt somewhat afraid and didn’t know how to respond. Vaguely she said: “Is war about to break out in the east? How are your preparations?”

“Ah…” Yan Xun sighed helplessly: “Chu Qiao, must you spoil the mood like this? Truly lacking in romance.”

The fine sand in the water clock flowed down gradually, thread by thread, unbroken. Outside, the wind blew quietly. Occasionally, accumulated snow fell from the eaves, drifting down in a flurry. Yan Xun silently held her, his scent lightly encircling them, like a skirt flying up on a summer day. His voice was also moist and comfortable:

“Did you cough today?”

Chu Qiao shook her head: “It’s much better already.”

“That’s good. Have you been taking your medicine on time?”

“Yes, it’s very bitter, extremely unpleasant.”

Yan Xun laughed: “Childish words. Is there medicine that isn’t bitter? You didn’t secretly pour it away, did you?”

“Heaven and earth as my witness,” Chu Qiao raised three fingers: “I even swallowed the dregs.”

“What’s wrong?” Yan Xun’s eyebrows raised slightly: “Is the room too stuffy?”

“I’m anxious at heart. War is about to break out in the east, and I’m still sick like this. How can I help you?”

Yan Xun felt a warmth in his heart, as if hot water was slowly covering him. His lips caressed Chu Qiao’s neck as he whispered: “You being well is already helping me.”

Yan Xun’s nightclothes were thin, almost allowing one to feel the contours of his muscles. Chu Qiao nestled in his arms, tilting her head. Her body gradually warmed up as she said softly: “I hope I can be a bit more useful.”

“You’re already very useful,” Yan Xun said gently: “All these years, you’ve followed me wholeheartedly, never thinking of yourself. Now that Yan Bei is settled, you should make plans for yourself.”

“For myself?” Chu Qiao felt somewhat at a loss. This was truly a novel question. She knew she wasn’t as strong as her exterior suggested. She was accustomed to relying on others, accustomed to following orders, and also accustomed to striving and working for a goal. It was so when she served the country before, and it was so after following Yan Xun. However, what she was least adept at was planning for herself. For herself? For herself? What could she do for herself?

“Yes,” Yan Xun’s voice was deep, still carrying a hint of laughter: “When a girl grows up, she must plan for herself, such as finding a good husband’s family, marrying a good man, assisting her husband and teaching her children, living a peaceful and happy life…”

Chu Qiao lightly spat at him and said: “In these times of war and chaos, where can one find a good man?”

“Indeed,” Yan Xun said with a smile: “You can know someone’s face but not their heart. Without ten or eight years of effort, how can one easily see through a person? If one’s heart is mistakenly given, wouldn’t it waste a lifetime of happiness?”

Chu Qiao turned around and said with a smile: “Then what do you suggest?”

“I suppose I’ll have to take a loss,” Yan Xun’s eyes were narrow, flashing with deep light, his mouth corners lifting slightly, smiling like a cunning fox.

Chu Qiao glared at him sideways: “You look very reluctant as if you’re taking a big loss!”

“Not too reluctant,” Yan Xun’s voice was like a pool of clear water, rippling softly in the air: “But taking a loss, more or less.”

Seeing Chu Qiao about to change color, Yan Xun laughed and embraced her, saying: “All those dukes and nobles have three wives and four concubines, but I have to keep to one wife for a lifetime. Isn’t that a loss?”

Chu Qiao snorted and said: “Then go take concubines! No one is stopping you.”

Yan Xun held her tightly and said in her ear: “I don’t have that energy, nor am I willing to let you suffer grievances.”

Red candles as thick as small arms burned high, illuminating the room brightly. Chu Qiao felt powerless all over, as if water had been injected into her limbs and bones. She heard Yan Xun say gently: “Chu Qiao, marry me.”

Her heart warmed, and her eyes had already moistened. This road had been so arduous. Thinking back to the hunt eight years ago, in the blink of an eye, so much time had passed.

“Mm.” She softly agreed, resting her head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling how generous life had been to her.

Yan Xun’s chest rose and fell slightly as he said softly: “I will always be good to you.”

Chu Qiao’s mouth corners lifted in a slight smile, and she nodded imperceptibly: “I have always believed in you.”

All around was silent. The gauze curtains of the canopy drooped to the ground. Occasionally, one could hear the sound from the copper water clock, fine sand rustling like early spring mulberry leaves.

“Chu Qiao, after the eastern war is over, let’s get married.”

…

Chu Qiao raised her head to look at him, and Yan Xun looked at her as well. His gaze was like captivating flowing colors, clean and warm. In a trance, it was still the expression from many years ago—the young boy looking at the small child, gritting his teeth and vowing: “Whoever dares to hurt you, I’ll fight them to the death!”

Vaguely, time fell away in flutters. Yan Xun embraced her, softly exhaling: “Chu Qiao, all storms have passed, and we are still together.”

Yes, everyone changes, but not you and me.

A big smile bloomed on her lips. She stretched out her arms to embrace the young man’s body, feeling satisfied even in her breathing. I always trust you, always trust you, always believe in you.

“Mm.”

The wind was like March willows, silently cutting through the curtains. Candle shadows flickered, gauze curtains swayed lightly, her heart peaceful, like Hetian jade.