The grand and solitary Qingyuan Hall stood amid ten miles of lotus ponds, built with the finest nanmu wood into a pavilion facing the wind. Blue-green water surrounded it on all four sides, with sky and water merging in clear azure. Xiang bamboo curtains are half-open and half-rolled, elegant as orchids. There were no lotus flowers in this season, but clever palace maids had crafted white and jade-colored silk lotus leaves, letting them float on the water. Viewed from a distance, as the wind passed over the swaying leaves, the jade-green lotus leaves appeared as real as could be. The scenery of the Huaisong Palace was exquisite, comparable to the golden walls of Biantang.

Qinyuan Hall was currently under renovation, so Nalan Hongye moved the court to Qingyuan Hall. After the morning court session ended, she lifted the curtain and walked out slowly, only to see Nalan Hongyu leaning back against the dazzling golden dragon throne, with a long trail of drool on his chin, snoring softly—having been asleep for some time.

Recalling the gazes of the court officials as they departed, the Princess Imperial’s brows furrowed slightly. A young eunuch, seeing this, hurriedly and carefully nudged Nalan Hongyu’s shoulder, cautiously calling out, “Your Majesty? Your Majesty?”

The young emperor awoke hazily, frowning and about to flare up in anger when he suddenly saw his elder sister standing before him. Immediately becoming fearful, he stood up awkwardly, rubbed his eyes, and said softly, “Imperial Sister.”

Everyone had already left the great hall, leaving only the Nalan siblings and one personal attendant eunuch. Nalan frowned slightly, her tone even but carrying a certain inexplicable tension as she slowly said, “Hasn’t your Imperial Sister told you not to sleep during court sessions?”

The emperor lowered his head like a child caught doing something wrong, mumbling, “Y-yes… you have.”

“Then why do you still do it?”

The young emperor kept his head down, admitting his mistake: “Imperial Sister, I was wrong.”

Nalan’s eyebrows rose: “Hasn’t your Imperial Sister taught you how to refer to yourself?”

“Huh?” Nalan Hongyu was stunned, seemingly unable to understand the Princess’s meaning. The young eunuch quickly leaned over to his ear and whispered something. The emperor immediately nodded and said, “Imperial Sister, I—no, We were wrong. We know We were wrong.”

“Since you know you were wrong, go back and copy the ‘Record of Morality’ ten times. No dinner until you finish.”

“What?” The emperor’s face immediately fell. Nalan ignored him and turned to leave the hall. The great hall was vast and empty, with beautiful sunshine outside. The wind blew in from all sides, brushing against the Xiang bamboo curtains and sweeping over the golden bells beneath them, making a tinkling sound. Nalan’s deep blue court robe trailed over the thick floor, embroidered with patterns of a hundred birds. The gold thread gleamed, the stitches were fine and dense, proclaiming the imperial dignity and majesty in every detail.

“Princess,” Cloud Aunty was waiting outside. Seeing her emerge, she quickly ran up to drape a soft cloak over her shoulders. It was already November, and even though Huaisong had a mild climate, the morning and evening winds had grown cool.

“Princess, shall we return to the palace?”

Nalan shook her head. Today, the Marquis of Changling and the Prince of Jinjiang had been vague and evasive, hiding much regarding the pirate troubles in the East Sea—something to be wary of. She said in a deep voice, “Summon Xuanmo into the palace. I have important matters to discuss with him.”

“Yes.” Cloud Aunty quickly agreed, then asked, “Princess, will you meet Prince Xuan at Qingyuan Hall? But, the Emperor is still…”

Cloud Aunty hesitated, and Nalan followed her gaze, turning back to look. In the vast palace hall, there was only desolate silence. The black wooden floor laid throughout made the hall seem all the more severe and cold. The young emperor sat alone on the steps, head drooping, with the gleaming pearls on his crown hanging on both sides, transparent and flashing with light. Sunlight penetrated through the pearl curtains and shone upon them, creating a dazzling radiance. Following those beams of light, one could even see dust flying in midair. The imperial yellow dragon robe further highlighted the desolation in his expression, like a child ignored by everyone.

But his sadness and hurt would ultimately only be because he had to copy the “Record of Morality” ten times, wouldn’t it? Not because of the flood disaster in Qiubei, nor because of the pirates in the East Sea, nor because of the lawsuits in the Judicial Department, and certainly not because of the disputes in court. Once he finished copying the text, he would set his mind at ease, eat well, sleep well, and play with crickets—carefree and happy—even though he bore the responsibility of an entire nation.

Nalan couldn’t tell whether her feelings were joy or sorrow. It was as if a vast, boundless snow had drifted across her heart. She stood alone, gazing at the vast expanse of blue waves, with silk flowers drifting like mist, floating with clear beauty. The wind rolled across the entire pool of clear waves. In the far distance came the sounds of wind and string instruments from Yile Palace. Beneath the decoration of song and dance prosperity was a whiteness covered by thick splendor and magnificence.

“Let’s go to Qingzhi Palace.”

In the evening, Xuanmo left the imperial palace. Cloud Aunty brought in palace maids carrying the prepared meals. Nalan had little appetite and only ate a few light bites. Suddenly, she heard hurried footsteps approaching from outside. The person seemed to be running, gasping for breath while shouting, “Princess! Princess! Something terrible has happened!”

“What has happened?” Nalan raised an eyebrow, and Cloud Aunty quickly went outside to inquire. However, before she could ask, the eunuch ran straight in, his face streaked with tears. He fell to his knees with a thud and cried out loudly:

“Princess, something terrible has happened! The Emperor just climbed onto the roof of Yile Palace to play and accidentally fell!”

The slanting rays of the setting sun painted the palace with a layer of blood red. Inside the palace, the guards were strict, with patrols and checkpoints everywhere. All palace gates were sealed, and no one was allowed to enter or leave. Most of the important court officials had already arrived, their blue court robes forming a dense mass as they knelt on the ground. Those lowered heads raised one after another as she entered, their gazes varied. Blending with the cold sunset outside, reverence, fear, suspicion, disdain, anger, forbearance—everything was revealed in that fleeting glance before returning to calmness as they lowered their heads once more.

Nalan wore a deep purple satin robe with gold and silver cloud patterns. Large, intricate roses were embroidered on her elegant high collar, accentuating her long, snow-white neck and dignified face. She walked step by step through the Moji Hall, surrounded by a cold and oppressive atmosphere. The Prince of Jinjiang stood in front of the officials, and upon seeing her, he quickly stepped forward, only to be pushed by a young man in a deep blue dragon robe, nearly falling.

Xuanmo’s eyes were anxious as he rushed forward, ignoring the glare from the Prince of Jinjiang behind him. He took several steps forward but seemed unable to speak.

“How is the Emperor?” Nalan asked in a deep voice, her expression calm, showing no signs of collapse, weakness, or fluctuation. The probing gazes from all directions immediately revealed a hint of disappointment. Xuanmo shook his head and said solemnly, “The Imperial Physicians say it is beyond recovery. Princess, please go in and see.”

In an instant, the heart that had been suspended throughout the journey suddenly dropped, but unfortunately, it didn’t land in a distant place. Every eye looked at her, carrying sharp thorns. Nalan suddenly remembered the night many years ago when her father passed away. It was still Moji Hall, the same court robes and gazes, still the same slanting rain. The surroundings were ice-cold, and breathing was difficult, yet she still slowly inhaled air and then swallowed it, swallowing all emotions, one by one, into her already painful rationality.

She slowly stepped forward, passing through the crowd. Palace maids on both sides lifted the curtains, and she walked alone into the magnificent bedchamber.

The dazzling golden light hurt her eyes. She pressed her lips tightly and passed through layers of curtains. The hall was so hot—so hot that one could hardly breathe. Her brother lay on the wide dragon bed, his face ghastly white, yet his eyes were startlingly bright. He lay flat, with sunken eye sockets, dark cheeks, cracked lips, and crimson blood on his head.

Her eyes suddenly grew hot, but she forcibly held back her tears. Probing gazes came from all directions. Her hand trembled slightly. She wanted to reach out but didn’t know where to touch, so she only called softly, “Yu’er?”

The emperor heard her voice and slowly turned his head. At the first sight of her, he showed fear and timidity. His voice was so hoarse, yet he still tried to explain, “Imperial Sister, I—I haven’t finished writing…”

Her eyes warmed, and she nearly wept. Nalan sat by the bed, reached out to press his shoulder, and said softly, “You don’t need to write anymore. From now on, Imperial Sister will never punish you again.”

“Really?” The young emperor’s eyes suddenly lit up with intense light. He happily asked, like a healthy, uninjured person, “Really, Imperial Sister?”

In a daze, she recalled the moment her father died many years ago. Nalan’s heart was filled with large patches of cold chill. She pressed her lips tightly and nodded, “Yes, Imperial Sister keeps her word.”

“That’s wonderful!”

The emperor lay back flat, his eyes staring straight at the canopy of the bed, with its layers upon layers embroidered with golden-coiled dragons. The dragon’s claws were ferocious, like monsters eager to kill.

“That’s wonderful, now I can… can…”

He never finished saying what he could do. The emperor’s eyes looked strange; in his whole life, he had never had such piercing eyes. He strained his neck, his face excited and flushed. He gripped Nalan’s hand tightly, wanting to say something, but like someone with a fishbone stuck in his throat, he could only make broken gasps, unable to speak.

The Imperial Physicians immediately rushed forward. The crowd swayed in a black mass before her eyes. The young eunuch who had attended the emperor since childhood knelt on the ground, crying loudly, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

“What did the Emperor want to say?” Nalan suddenly turned her head, her eyes slightly red, and said to the young eunuch, “Do you know?”

“Princess…” The young eunuch knelt on the ground, seeming scared witless. He answered irrelevantly, crying sorrowfully, “The Emperor climbed onto the roof of Yile Palace, saying he wanted to see what was outside the palace. The Emperor said he had never been outside before… the Emperor… the Emperor…”

Sorrow rose from her chest like cold snow, flowing throughout her body. The Imperial Physicians were in chaotic disarray. Nalan Hongyu’s face was flushed red, still hoarsely repeating, “Can… can…”

Nalan grabbed the emperor’s hand tightly, “Yu’er when you’re better, Imperial Sister will take you out of the palace!”

A trace of joy immediately crossed the emperor’s eyes. He closed his mouth, his gaze bright as he looked at his sister, his eyes clear, with distinct black and white pupils, like a child who hadn’t grown up.

Suddenly, the hand clutching Nalan’s sleeve loosened, his breath stopped, and his head fell heavily, making a dull thud.

“Your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty!”

Immense wails of grief immediately rose inside and outside the hall. The prolonged death knell echoed throughout the entire palace. The sunset lost its last ray of light, and the earth sank into darkness. Pale lanterns were hung, and everywhere was the sound of people’s cries and grief. But how much of this was genuine and how much was false, no one could distinguish clearly anymore.

“His Majesty has departed—”

The internal attendant’s high-pitched, prolonged funeral announcement rose. Nalan Hongye stood outside the crowd, before her were many old ministers weeping and wailing. They were divided into various factions, clearly demarcated as they huddled together, crying out in grief. There were so many people, yet she still felt the great hall was vast and empty. The sunset fell, the white moon rose, and its pale light shone through the raised windows onto her thin back, like cold snow—so cold, so bone-chilling.

The death of the Song Emperor brought national mourning. For one month, marriages were prohibited, everyone wore plain clothes, and all mourned this rarely benevolent ruler. Cold winds carried mugwort, and just as the northwestern war was about to begin, Huaisong faced national mourning. The military exercises that had been gathering at the border to help Yanbei contain Great Xia’s forces were forced to stop. Inside Huaisong, there was a cloud of gloom.

After Emperor Mingren’s passing, Nalan Hongye read the imperial edict, stating that the late emperor’s eldest son, Nalan Heqing, would ascend to the throne, changing the era name to Mingde.

However, on the very evening of the emperor’s death, Nalan fell seriously ill. Years of hard work were like a sudden great fire, tragically burning away all her spirit and energy. The moment she stepped out of Moji Hall, bloody fluid rushed to her throat, nearly spurting out. Her footsteps faltered slightly, and Cloud Aunty hurriedly stepped forward to support her arm. On all sides were court officials with uncertain suspicions, but she knew that she could not spit out this mouthful of blood. So she forcefully swallowed it, feeling so nauseated she wanted to vomit, yet still pushed away Cloud Aunty’s arm without showing any change in expression.

The Nalan lineage had no one left. Now, apart from her ill mother and her nephew who was not yet one year old, only she remained. The towering family tree of the Nalan clan, the vast rivers, and the mountains, once again fell on her shoulders alone. So, she could not fall, could not be weak, could not even cry. If she fell, the thousand-year foundation of the Nalan clan would collapse.

She forcefully straightened her back, announced the imperial edict with proper decorum, arranged the funeral affairs, stabilized public morale, and then returned to her chamber. She sat up all night by lamplight, tears silently falling from the candle, her eyes gradually becoming hollow and cold, yet no tears flowed.

The emperor’s funeral arrangements were all entrusted to the Prince of Anling and his son Xuanmo to supervise. The next day, officials from various places sent people to the capital to mourn. Nalan presided over the inner palace, coordinating everything. Although the emperor had passed away, the crown prince had been established long ago, and the pillar of the state, Princess Imperial Nalan, was still present, so no major upheaval occurred.

The next day, Nalan brought people to the chambers of Empress Cui, intending to escort the new emperor to the ancestral temple. However, before she even stepped into the chamber, a sharp knife came flying toward her face. Xuanmo drew his sword with a swoosh, cleaving the blade and standing in front of Nalan. The surrounding guards were all greatly alarmed, and someone shouted, “Assassin!” just as they were about to rush into the chamber when suddenly the Empress’s voice rose shrilly: “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

Cui Wanru rushed out with disheveled hair, one arm holding the child, the other still clutching a pair of scissors. With bloodshot eyes, she shouted in a hoarse voice, “You vile woman! You harmed the Emperor, and now you want to harm my child! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

Nalan’s face turned pale, but her lips remained tightly pressed. Seeing this, Cloud Aunty immediately called out, “Empress, what nonsense are you talking?”

“I’m not talking nonsense! I know everything!”

Cui Wanru laughed coldly and shrilly, “You ambitious woman, you wanted to be emperor, so you killed the emperor, and now you’ve come to kill my child. I won’t let you succeed!”

Nalan suddenly felt very tired. The sunlight was so piercing, and this place was filled with angry curses. She coldly turned around and simply commanded, “The Empress is indisposed and can no longer properly raise the Emperor. Take the Emperor away.”

Xuanmo respectfully replied, “Yes, but what about the Empress?”

The emperor had just died, and the court was unstable. Cui Wanru’s father was the current Grand Commandant. If she were to serve as Empress Dowager and assist in governing, the power of the maternal relatives would rise immediately. Moreover, the Grand Commandant Cui was also the teacher of the Prince of Jinjiang…

“The Empress understands righteousness deeply and has vowed to follow the late Emperor. Grant her poison wine and a white silk cord; send her on her way.”

The sunlight was piercing, but dark clouds were drifting in from the northwest. The curses behind her grew louder. Nalan raised her head, thinking silently, it’s going to rain, isn’t it?

—*—*—

After forcing herself to deal with the affairs of the front court, it was already a deep night when she returned from the front hall. Xuanmo walked at the back, several times seeming about to speak but ultimately sighing in resignation. Before leaving, he cautioned, “The dead cannot return to life. Please ease your mind, Princess, and do not let grief harm your health.”

Nalan nodded, responding very formally, “Prince Xuan has worked hard.”

“Ah!” Xuanmo did not answer but instead, let out a long sigh. Nalan was slightly stunned and raised her head, only to see that his honest face had taken on several traces of desolation and loneliness. He finally said softly, “Please take care of yourself, Princess. Leave everything to your humble servant. Even if my liver and brains were smeared on the ground, I would not regret this life.”

With that, he turned and left, a solitary figure in the moonlight, bearing a certain bleakness and loneliness.

By the time she returned to her chambers, she could hear the child crying loudly from far away. The wet nurse was holding Qing’er, trying to comfort him, but the child continued to wail, his little face flushed red. In two days, he had lost both parents, and his mother had been sent to her death by his aunt. If this child were to learn of all this when he grew up, would he hate her?

Leaning by the long window in solitary contemplation, the moon was bright and white like a jade plate, its clear light spilling to the ground, illuminating everything.

Cloud Aunty brought Qing’er over, smiling carefully and saying, “Princess, the Emperor is smiling.”

Nalan took the child and indeed saw him looking at her with clear black and white eyes, his mouth stretched into a smile, appearing very happy. The worries in her heart gradually dispersed. She held the child, looking at his familiar features, and suddenly thought of her brother.

When he was alive, she occasionally felt resentment, hating that heaven had given him a male body but made him simple-minded, unable to understand sufferings or affairs of state, needlessly jeopardizing Huaisong’s century-old foundation. As for herself, despite possessing extraordinary talent, she was born a woman. Years of painstaking planning, yet she would still be labeled with the evil name of usurping power and ruling autocratically. However, only with his passing did she suddenly understand—they were one entity. If one suffered, both suffered; if one prospered, both prospered. Only with Hongyu still alive could she stabilize the Song dynasty and support the prestige of the Nalan clan.

Fortunately, there was still Qing’er.

She lowered her head, looking at the small child in the swaddling clothes, and couldn’t help feeling a stinging pain in her eyes. Fortunately, there was still him. Now in the Nalan clan, only the aunt and nephew remained.

“Princess, look how adorable the little Emperor is!”

Cloud Aunty smiled as she touched the Emperor’s little face. Qing’er seemed very happy, waving his chubby little hands, giggling, his dark eyes looking at Nalan as if understanding what was in her heart.

Just then, there was a crisp “bang” sound that startled both Nalan and Cloud Aunty. They turned around to see that a palace maid had knocked over a teacup.

Cloud Aunty said angrily, “Useless thing! You’ve frightened the Emperor and the Princess. Watch out for your life!”

Nalan also frowned slightly, gently patting Qing’er’s swaddling clothes, afraid he might be startled. However, she saw that he was still smiling, seemingly not frightened at all.

Cloud Aunty smiled, “Princess, look how brave the little Emperor is. When he grows up, he’ll surely be a wise and valiant ruler.”

Nalan also smiled slightly, but before her smile reached her eyes, she suddenly froze, her face instantly turning snow-white.

Seeing this, Cloud Aunty asked in confusion, “Princess, what’s wrong?”

Nalan’s hands and feet turned ice-cold. She repeatedly comforted herself in her heart, but still quickly handed the child to Cloud Aunty’s arms, then stood aside and forcefully clapped her hands.

“Clap!”

A crisp sound rang right next to the child’s ear, but the child seemed completely unaware, reaching out his chubby little hand to grab the button on Cloud Aunty’s collar, giggling happily.

Nalan became anxious, continuously clapping her hands, her eyes turning red, calling out as she clapped, “Qing’er! Qing’er! Look over here, Aunty is here!”

However, the child never turned his head. He tiredly gave a little yawn, then leaned his head against Cloud Aunty’s chest and closed his eyes to sleep.

“Qing’er, don’t sleep! Qing’er, Aunty is here!”

“Princess!”

Cloud Aunty was already in tears, falling to her knees with a thud, crying painfully, “Please stop calling, stop calling.”

Nalan’s expression was agitated. She grabbed Cloud Aunty’s shoulders and shouted angrily, “What’s going on? What exactly is going on?”

Cloud Aunty’s face was streaked with tears as she cried, “I noticed it when the child was first brought back. I summoned the Imperial Physician from the Empress’s palace. Under severe torture, he finally confessed. The Empress had known for a long time but kept it hidden. She feared that if this was revealed, the child could not become Crown Prince. They had been treating him for a year, but this condition was congenital, completely incurable…”

For a moment, Nalan felt as if the heavens were spinning and the earth was turning. Qing’er was deaf, Qing’er was deaf! This fact completely shattered her entire being. It was like a person floating in the deep sea having their last piece of driftwood pulled away. The restraint and grief of many days came rushing forth like a great flood. Her throat sweetened, and a warm stream of fresh blood suddenly spurted out, splashing all over her clothes!

“Princess! Princess!”

Cloud Aunty was greatly alarmed, setting down the Emperor to support her. Qing’er, suddenly placed on the ground, opened his eyes and looked around in confusion, then began to cry loudly. The maids rushed in, and the room was in chaos. Cloud Aunty shouted, “Summon the Imperial Physician! Summon the Imperial Physician!”

Nalan was in a daze, with only one phrase repeating in her mind: Heaven’s justice is clear, retribution is inevitable.

Indeed, she had killed Cui Wanru, but this Empress had also left her an enormous disaster.

If she had known earlier, she would not have considered Hongyu’s unwillingness; she would have filled his harem with concubines to produce heirs, to avoid such desolation today. But now, everything was too late, everything was beyond reach.

Her tears finally poured down uncontrollably. With crimson at the corner of her mouth, she cried sorrowfully, “Imperial Father, Imperial Father, your daughter deserves ten thousand deaths!”

Several times she awoke, with people always gathered around her, but Nalan kept her eyes closed. For the first time in five years, she was being this willful, wanting to sleep on, to stop caring about everything. But gradually, the surroundings quieted down, and one figure stood before her, not leaving for a long time.

When she opened her eyes, moonlight had penetrated through the carved lattice windows and spilled onto the desk. The Buddhist chants from the Imperial Ancestral Temple traveled through the cold wind, past the high and thick palace walls, reaching her ears, reminding her in this way of what time it was and where she was.

“The matter of the Emperor’s deafness, your humble servant has kept it secret. Except for the people in this palace, no one else will know.”

Xuanmo stood by the bed, speaking in a low voice. His voice was pleasant, like a gentle breeze blowing through a bamboo flute, deep and soothing. The candlelight shone on his well-defined face, revealing a hint of resolute lines with a subtle sharpness.

“Before the Emperor comes of age to rule personally, we have at least ten or more years to plan. Although the Emperor is deaf, as long as he reaches fifteen, marries, and produces an heir, Huaisong still has hope. The Princess is the pillar of the Great Song, the entire hope of the Nalan clan. If the Princess falls, the Emperor will surely be deposed, the imperial family will decline, outsiders will seize power, Huaisong will split, war will break out, and the people will suffer. The foundation built by our ancestors will be instantly destroyed. The Princess, with the ambition of managing affairs of state, would never stand by and watch Huaisong collapse and the foundation be ruined.”

Nalan raised her head to look at this man who had grown up with her and suddenly felt a sense of desolation in her heart.

Yes, everything he said, how could she not have thought of it? But what an incredibly difficult path this would be!

“Xuanmo, thank you.”

She hadn’t called him Xuanmo for a very long time. Xuanmo was slightly stunned, his eyes flashing with emotion, but he still respectfully replied, “This is my duty as a servant.”

Nalan sat up, coughing lightly twice, her face as pale as paper. She smiled faintly, “You’ve matured a lot, already showing your uncle’s demeanor.”

The Prince of Anling was Xuanmo’s father, once a great general under Nalan Lie. Because he had saved Nalan Lie’s life during the Southern Border campaign, he was granted the surname Nalan and entered the imperial family genealogy.

Xuanmo bowed and replied, “Thank you for the Princess’s praise.”

“I heard Yushu is pregnant, is that true?”

Xuanmo’s expression immediately stiffened, his brows tightly knit. After a while, he finally said in a low voice, “Yes.”

Nalan smiled, “Yushu is virtuous and talented. You should treat her well.”

Xuanmo’s tone was rather stiff, speaking without joy or sorrow, “I must thank the Princess for the grace of arranging the marriage.”

The hall was vast, and the Buddhist chants grew louder, mixed with the mourning cries of court officials. They faced each other, suddenly not knowing what to say. Xuanmo took out a letter from his chest. The letter was intact, still unsealed, and handed to Nalan, saying, “A letter has arrived from Yanbei.”

Nalan’s eyes, lifeless as ashes, suddenly flashed with light. She almost impatiently took it with a swift grab. Xuanmo’s gaze slightly froze, his brow furrowing, as if there was ice and snow that could not melt. He quietly stepped back half a step and said softly, “Your humble servant takes his leave.”

“Yes,” Nalan answered, though smiling, her voice was already somewhat indifferent.

The long lamp shone silently, only illuminating a thin shadow.

When Cloud Aunty came in, Nalan had already returned to normal. The Imperial Physician had taken her pulse, she had taken the medicine, and gradually the palace maids all withdrew. Sitting at the desk, she repeatedly caressed the small letter, the sorrow in her heart gradually rising, as if she dared not open it. The candle flame crackled, and everything was silent. The room was burning incense, with the fragrance rising like a blue cloud.

“Brother Xuanmo, the war in Yanbei has ended, and I am safe and sound, please do not worry. This time, I am grateful for your brother’s mediation, securing military supplies and provisions, and using your country’s military to contain the Eastern Army of the Great Xia. However, the war between Xia and Yan is now at a stalemate, and I do not have complete confidence. Therefore, you must not be too protective of Yanbei, lest someone in court use this to attack you. The official circles are dangerous, so you must be extremely careful. If due to my fault, you become implicated, I would not be able to forgive myself even in death.

When the Great Xia army retreats, it will be the day of my wedding. If you can come, I will certainly welcome you warmly. We brothers have not seen each other for ten years, and I miss you greatly.”

Tears finally fell drop by drop, landing on the pure white paper, all the sorrow in her heart transforming into these clear tears. She had endured for too long, suppressed for too long, and persisted for too long. Heavily accumulated in her heart were blood-wrenching fatigue and desolation, state affairs and family matters, and now, added to these were the words she had long understood: “When the Great Xia army retreats, it will be the day of my wedding.” Her vision gradually blurred, with miserable wind and rain outside the window, just like her state of mind, a vast expanse of whiteness. Dipping the brush deeply in ink, she heard the rain beating on the plantain leaves, and with a bitter smile, she wrote:

“What evening is this, that we embark in the middle of the stream? What day is this, that I get to share a boat with the prince? Bearing humiliation and shame, I do not despise disgrace. My heart, almost weary yet unbroken, has come to know the prince. The mountain has trees, the trees have branches, my heart rejoices in you, do you know or not?” ①

By the last few strokes, her handwriting had become chaotic. She collapsed on the desk, her eyes filled with tears, and fell into a deep sleep just like that.

When Cloud Aunty came in, she nearly burst into tears. The Princess, who had governed for many years, had never lost composure like this. She helped her to bed to rest, then returned to the desk, seeing that the reply had been written, addressed to the Prince of Yanbei. She already felt some displeasure but did not look at the content of the letter on the desk. After folding it and placing it in an envelope, sealing it with wax, she handed it to a palace maid, saying, “Take this to the Prince Xuan’s mansion and have him send it out according to the usual procedure.”

“Your servant obeys.”

The rain was gloomy, the night pitch-black. A black hawk took flight from Prince Xuan’s mansion, heading rapidly toward the northwest.

When Yan Xun received Nalan’s letter, it was the day before his departure. Feng Zhi stood beside him, seeing Yan Xun frown as he looked at it for a long time, then suddenly burst into laughter, saying, “I don’t know whose maiden’s boudoir lament he copied, and he confused himself enough to send it to me?”

Feng Zhi took it and read it through, then laughed, “Your Highness, Prince Xuan’s handwriting is chaotic, it looks like he was drunk.”

Yan Xun shook his head with a smile. He still had some affection for this sworn brother. Ten years of acquaintance was not ordinary, and he cheerfully said, “His mood is good.”

Having said this, he suddenly had a childish impulse, thinking that if he replied, wouldn’t this fellow be furious? He picked up a brush and wrote directly on the letter: “Having known each other for ten years, I did not know these were your true feelings, I was too foolish. When the Great Xia army retreats, I will personally come to Song to propose marriage. Do you dare to accept?”

Seeing this, Feng Zhi laughed heartily, “Your Highness, Prince Xuan will be furious when he sees this.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing him go crazy.”

Yan Xun carefully put the letter away, placing it under a paperweight, arranging it neatly, laughing heartily with a greatly improved mood, then left with Feng Zhi and A Jing.

Chu Qiao had been seriously ill the day before and was still lying in bed today, not without blame and heartache.

Blame for his coldness and indifference, heartache for his blindness and deception. But what could be done? Just as that servant had said, except for her, he didn’t consider other people’s lives as lives. Though these words were cruel and unreasonable, they ultimately had a warmth to them—at least, “except for her.”

He did care for her.

And she, hadn’t she also concealed some things, such as her true origin, and the entanglements with Zhuge Yue during the Biantang journey?

Zhuge Yue, Zhuge Yue, whenever she thought of these three characters, she felt a slight pain in her heart. It wasn’t that she was numb or cold-blooded enough to have forgotten everything, nor was she stupid or ignorant enough not to see his various intentions toward her. But what could be done? In this world, there are always things beyond human capability, always some things that cannot be compensated or repaid. Just as Li Ce had said, if one cannot respond, it’s better to forget each other.

For eight years, she had been the only one in Yan Xun’s heart, but she, without his knowledge, had felt a ripple in her heart for a moment. Counting it up, who owed whom, who truly wronged whom? Perhaps she shouldn’t be so narrow-minded and petty.

She got out of bed, dressed, and took some freshly peeled chestnuts to Yan Xun’s study. Green Willow was taking a nap and hadn’t heard her get up. This little maid had been troubled all night and must have been exhausted.

Pushing open Yan Xun’s door, she found no one inside. She placed the chestnuts on his desk, saw the complex official documents, and the candle in the candlestick reduced to a fingernail-sized piece, showing he had stayed up all night again. She couldn’t help feeling some heartache. Just as she was about to order the kitchen to prepare some dishes for him, her sleeve brushed against a letter on the desk.

The envelope was extremely beautiful, giving off a faint fragrance. The letter fell from the table, landing on the floor, with the opening half-exposed, revealing the white paper inside. Two lines of writing suddenly came into view, and Chu Qiao was slightly stunned. Involuntarily, she crouched down and pulled out the letter.

Suddenly seeing the phrase “The mountain has trees, the trees have branches, my heart rejoices in you, do you know or not,” her heart immediately ached. It wasn’t her handwriting; she was never good at composing poetry. Her fingers grew cold inch by inch. She quickly checked the envelope’s exterior—from the Prince Xuan’s mansion in Huaisong. In an instant, certain things in her mind connected, gradually becoming clear. She took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, wanting to expel those dissatisfied feelings, but found her heart growing heavier.

Looking further down, she saw Yan Xun’s handwritten reply. There was a muffled boom in her head, and she nearly lost her balance. Her brows furrowed tightly, like a delicate hook. Thousands of thoughts emerged, with thousands of reasons to refute them, but ultimately, they could not withstand the black words on white paper before her eyes.

A chill crept over her skin, as if countless cold tentacles, like layers of vines, crawled up from her heart, completely enveloping her weakened body. The dim yellow light showed no daylight, and her heart gradually darkened, leaving only a vast, empty void, miserably illuminating her deadened eyes.

A thought gradually rose from the depths of her heart, forming into a sentence: So, the so-called lifelong companionship was nothing more than this.

“No!” Chu Qiao suddenly stood up, her eyes flashing with a trace of sharpness. She did not believe this unless he said it himself! She, Chu Qiao, would never be so confused and deceived by someone!

The illness that had clung to her body for days suddenly disappeared. She ran back to her room in a few steps, put on a large fur coat, and went out the door. Green Willow followed behind in panic, crying in distress, “Miss! You’re not well yet, where are you going?”

Chu Qiao ignored her, mounted a horse, and rode howling toward the First Army camp.

However, upon reaching the camp, she was not allowed to enter. The soldiers of the First Army did not recognize her and did not believe what she said, resolutely blocking her outside. Just then, a voice called out nearby. Chu Qiao turned her head to see someone very familiar—it was the deputy commander of the Second Army, Yin Liangyu.

The man was in full armor. Seeing her, he was immediately overjoyed, running up to her in a few steps and shouting, “Master, I’ve finally found you! I’ve been wandering outside His Highness’s mansion for three days, but they wouldn’t let me in. Now that you’re here, this is great!”

Chu Qiao was slightly stunned and asked, “Do you have something to find me for?”

Yin Liangyu was also stunned, then asked in return, “Master, don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

Yin Liangyu’s face immediately changed drastically, and he shouted, “Master, something terrible has happened!”

—

① Note: This is a poem in the style of “Li Sao” by Qu Yuan, expressing deep longing and affection.