—

When Zhuge Yue carried Chu Qiao back to the inn, Yue Qi had just received a letter from Xiao Fei’s family. Now a general, the young guard smiled happily, contentedly tucking the letter into his sleeve.

Chu Qiao was sleeping deeply. It was hard to imagine someone like her could sleep so defenseless. When the painted boat docked with such force, she hadn’t stirred at all, remaining as quiet as a cat while he carried her back.

Zhuge Yue frowned slightly. He had seen her like this before. Years ago in Bian Tang, she had slept excessively after being poisoned.

After settling her in the bedroom, Zhuge Yue turned and walked out. Yue Qi was standing outside in good spirits, constantly peering inside.

“A letter from Xiao Fei?”

“Yes,” Yue Qi chuckled, saying: “Hai’er is one month old now.”

After years of fighting side by side, Zhuge Yue and Yue Qi were masters and servants in name, but nearly like brothers in reality. Remembering that Xiao Fei had just given birth to Yue Qi’s son before they left, he smiled and said: “When I return, I’ll prepare a grand gift for your son.”

Yue Qi smiled and said: “Thank you, young master.”

“Master,” Fang Chu walked in from outside. After Yue Qi left to lead troops, Fang Chu became Zhuge Yue’s guard. He was from Qinghai; his parents were criminals demoted from Ximeng generations ago. After being subdued by Zhuge Yue, he followed him back to Da Xia. A man of few words but a resilient character, he was far from ordinary, even Yue Qi regarded him highly.

“A letter from General Feng.”

The wax seal on the letter was intact. Zhuge Yue read it with an unchanged expression, then handed it to Yue Qi. After he finished reading, Zhuge Yue asked solemnly: “What do you think?”

“Zhao Yang won’t give up so easily. Once the Seventh Prince returns and joins forces with the young master, the power he’s built over these two years will weaken. Wei Guang is already aging, but Wei Shuye has his ambitions. He must be wary.”

Zhuge Yue nodded slightly and said softly: “That man is most pragmatic, with a clever mind, yet his heart is blinded, making such plans at this time.”

“What should we do?”

“Proceed as planned. Tell Xu Yang to be more vigilant. He can’t make much trouble now. Rather than worrying about him, we should pay more attention to movements from Yan Bei.”

Yue Qi nodded, and then Zhuge Yue asked: “How is the extradition matter progressing?”

“Rest assured, young master. All of Chen Yue’s businesses are operating urgently. Lord Zhaoming and Master Liang have secretly recruited many talents from various industries. The Great Emperor of Bian Tang takes our entrusted matter seriously and personally sends Lord Sun to assist. Besides, there’s a bumper grain harvest this year, so we needn’t rely on inland anymore.”

Zhuge Yue nodded: “How is everything at home?”

The person in charge in Qinghai now was Fang Guangqian, Fang Chu’s uncle and Zhuge Yue’s subordinate in Qinghai. Fang Chu replied expressionlessly: “Uncle sent a letter yesterday saying everything at home is fine. Everyone is waiting for master’s return.”

“Good.” Zhuge Yue nodded silently and said: “Tell everyone to hurry. We don’t have much time. Once matters here are concluded, we’ll return.”

Fang Chu nodded and withdrew. After Fang Chu left, Yue Qi frowned slightly and said: “Young master, I don’t understand.”

“I know what you want to say.”

The moonlight was serene, gently casting its clear glow on his shoulders. The man’s face bore a hint of coolness, his narrow eyes no longer as spirited as in his youth, instead calm like a still ancient well, composed and gentle.

“You want to ask why we don’t take advantage of Da Xia’s internal turmoil, the noble families’ exhaustion, and external threats to rise, control the clan, and then replace the Zhao family, correct?”

Yue Qi was startled and knelt immediately, yet spoke frankly: “I’m being bold, but that is indeed what I think. Da Xia has been unkind to us, and the clan has been unjust. The young master has endured humiliation for two years. Why offer them help now? At worst, we can return to Qinghai. We don’t fear their threats now that Miss is here. Qinghai is vast and resource-rich. Even if Ximeng unifies, we needn’t fear them.”

After Yue Qi finished, he didn’t hear Zhuge Yue’s response for a long time. He cautiously raised his head and saw Zhuge Yue looking up at the sky. His once handsome face was now covered with shadows of fatigue, the vertical lines between his brows deeply furrowed, filled with the vicissitudes of time.

“Yue Qi, however bad the clan might be, it was still where you and I established ourselves in our youth. However bad Da Xia might be, it’s still our homeland. Now our country faces internal troubles and external threats, with powerful enemies watching. How could we bear to light another flame of war on a land already full of wounds?”

Hearing this, Yue Qi was stunned, then heard Zhuge Yue continue: “Moreover, Zhao Che’s kindness to me is not just a drop of water.”

Zhuge Yue left after speaking, leaving Yue Qi standing there, carefully pondering his words.

He didn’t know what to feel. Deep down, he knew his master was right, but remembering their experiences these past two years, an irrepressible feeling of grief and indignation welled up in his chest. Did his master truly not care at all?

Of course, Zhuge Yue cared.

In the darkened bedroom, a brief, soft laugh sounded.

How could he not care about those childhood days when he struggled to survive in the clan like a beast or a stray dog? How could he not care about the disappointment of having his ambitions repeatedly crushed? And how could he not care about the spit and humiliation that greeted him when he returned after narrowly escaping death?

He could not forget, not even in death.

He didn’t want to dwell on what he had just felt, on how Yue Qi’s outspoken words had stirred up such tremendous waves in his heart.

A man’s heart remains as iron until death. After a lifetime of toil, what is it all for? Is it not to achieve merit and fame? Is it not to rise above others? Is it not to ascend to great power one day, commanding the wind and rain, with everyone answering your call?

It was an addictive desire, a drug that no man could ever quit completely.

When he had escaped from the brink of death, he was met with not a shred of warmth. His reputation was ruined, abandoned by his home, instantly becoming Da Xia’s public enemy. He was no saint; how could he not harbor resentment?

Perhaps, just as Chu Qiao had said before smashing the tomb, when he saw Da Xia repeatedly defeated by Yan Bei’s attacks, a strange sense of satisfaction rose in his heart. When Da Xia’s internal corruption increased, showing signs of collapse, he had also thought about marching east, replacing Da Xia, using military might to wipe away past humiliations, and looking down on those dirty faces that had once trampled on him.

But when it came time to take that step, he retreated.

The eager eyes of those hungry and poorly clothed people on the Qinghai plains were looking at him. Those who had generously sheltered him when he had nowhere to go were still waiting for him to bring them a winter where no one would die.

Yes, he couldn’t tell Yue Qi, couldn’t tell those followers who had always been loyal to him. They would stare at him wide-eyed and ask: Young master, are you willing to give up conquering prosperous Ximeng for a few Qinghai bumpkins?

Indeed, they were just descendants of generations of prisoners exiled to a penal colony, just uncultured bumpkins. In the past, he might have thought the same, snorting disdainfully. A true man must have priorities, set lofty goals, and not hesitate with womanly sentimentality. But something had changed him. When his life was in ruins and he was rejected by the world, someone opened a warm door for him. Though the door was old and the house leaked, sitting there, he drank the warmest bowl of porridge in his life.

At that moment, he suddenly understood Chu Qiao, that resolute young woman who always told him to wait and see.

He thanked heaven. Without such an opportunity, he might never have understood her, never known the joy of creation and protection. He was amazed to discover that such joy was no less powerful than that of conquest and destruction.

As for Da Xia, as for grudges, as for dominating Ximeng…

He slowly closed his eyes, telling himself, I know what matters most.

And everything he had done, she would surely appreciate. She had traveled mountains and rivers half her life, only to find it all like flowers reflected in a mirror or the moon in water—an empty void. A heart that had died and revived hundreds of times, how could it let go so easily?

He recalled her words at the noodle stand. She said she used to fear drinking would interfere with her duties, but now she was just an idle person. She said this while smiling, seemingly casual small talk, but he could hear how much-hidden endurance and pain lay behind those words.

If he could fulfill her dreams, then, between them, might there be something more?

Whenever he thought of this, he felt it was all worthwhile. Now she was already by his side. Just by opening the door and walking a few steps, he could smell her scent. What he had yearned for all these years had come true, what more could he ask for?

The room was completely dark. The moon outside shone through the window, its cold light falling upon him. After all, he was still just a man in his twenties. Despite experiencing so many twists and hardships, he would sometimes dream like this: a hero returning victorious from a hundred battles, having achieved glorious military exploits, then presenting everything to the person he liked, announcing grandly: It’s all yours!

He leaned back in his chair, his lips curling slightly, smiling gently like a grown child.

Chu Qiao had been awake for some time. She had awakened when Zhuge Yue carried her into the residence, but with Yue Qi nearby, she felt embarrassed and, momentarily flustered, continued to pretend to sleep. Now lying in bed, she had lost all drowsiness and couldn’t fall asleep.

This day and night had been like a dream. She sat up, leaning against the bedpost. The beautiful gauze curtains swayed gently. Moonlight fell upon them, creating a patch of pure, clear light.

The night was deep, and her heart finally began to calm. She had time to carefully sort through the complex emotions within.

Even in dreams, she had never experienced a day like today. The killing of her former life seemed to suddenly leave her. She thought again of Yan Xun, of the man who had already discussed marriage with her, of the man who had lived with her for eight years in the Zhen Huang imperial capital, of the man who had repeatedly said he would love and protect her, yet ultimately chose a different path.

These past two years, she had lived in pain and resentment. But now, suddenly, there was no hatred left.

Yes, even now, she still understood him. She understood all his thoughts, knew his vengeance, his hatred. She had witnessed the blood on the Nine Abyss Platform, and seen the luxury and corruption of the Holy Gold Palace. She knew what he carried, what he suppressed, and what he painstakingly concealed.

That intense hatred had burned him for too many years, scorching a once pure and clean soul black inside and out. Thus, he sought revenge, wanted to kill, to purify his grievances with blood, and to find peace through power.

But Yan Xun, you chose the most difficult path, and for us, you chose a divergent road.

She couldn’t help thinking again of Mr. Wu’s words: In this world, there is something else that surpasses freedom and love.

Yan Xun, we both possess such things. Yours remains your vengeance and power; mine is my faith and perseverance. You can remain unmoved by the soldiers who fell one after another on the battlefield, can ignore the countless white bones beneath the sea of fire cloud flowers, but I cannot. Though history is full of instances where a general’s success is built upon ten thousand bones, that is not something I can accept. I can watch it in plays, and read it in books, but I don’t have a heart strong enough to step by step walk upon a realm you built with white bones and flesh.

Our paths differ; we cannot work together. I never regret loving you with my whole life, just as I never regret finally leaving you at the risk of almost dying.

Now, I have finally exited your life. The last obstacle with the strength to block your path is gone. You, alone, walk on well.

The weather right after a snowfall is most bitterly cold. The wind carried artemisia, and on the ground was a patch of crimson red.

Dense clouds gathered and cold winds blew sharply. The white snow on the ground was swept up, fluttering down onto the newly completed Shuofang Palace.

Today was the winter hunt in Yan Bei. The eastern war had temporarily ceased, the northern Dog Rong had been repelled, and the soldiers had all retreated inside the borders, seemingly preparing for a rare New Year celebration.

Early in the morning, all shops on both sides of Wuhuan Street had closed. The long street was covered with fine yellow sand to prevent palace carriages from slipping. Looking from afar, it was all golden, like the ground paved with pure gold. High golden curtains were erected on both sides of the road. Commoners had retreated, and civil and military officials knelt on both sides. Various ceremonial processions moved slowly, arranged in clear formations. At once, canopied carriages and horses were like clouds, brocade robes, and cloud sleeves obscured the sun and sky.

Today was Yan Bei’s winter hunt day. Elders with good memory recalled that the last winter hunt was twelve years ago.

Zhongqiu West was the hunting ground for generations of Yan Bei kings, located in the center of the Sunset Mountain Range, backed by the Hui Hui South Peak. It was a vast expanse of whiteness, with slightly red soil. No one knew if it was originally this color or if it had been soaked with blood.

Yan Xun, wearing heavy sable fur, sat on the high throne. Before him stood rows of people, appearing like two pitch-black wings in the swirling snow when viewed from afar. Officials knelt trembling beneath the royal carriage, not daring to look up, their knees painfully cold. Only A Jing secretly raised his face, yet he couldn’t see Yan Xun’s face.

“Lord Zhuang.”

A cold voice came from above. A man in his fifties suddenly trembled, the muscles in his face quivering slightly. He slowly stood up, knelt in the center, and said respectfully: “What are Your Majesty’s orders?”

“Nothing, just that I recently acquired an interesting item and wanted to invite Lord Zhuang to enjoy it together.”

Yan Xun’s voice was clear with a hint of a smile like a cunning, willful child anticipating some mischief.

Lord Zhuang knelt on the ground, his fingers white, brows furrowed, yet still lowered his head and replied calmly: “Thank you, Your Majesty, for thinking of this old minister.”

Yan Xun smiled, his eyes holding a hint of playfulness, and lazily waved his hand, saying: “Bring it in.”

A rustling sound slowly arose as a carriage entered. The carriage was covered with black coarse cloth, and faint movements could be heard from within. Everyone curiously turned to look at the carriage. The scene was deathly silent, making it difficult to breathe.

A sudden “snap” made every one start. It turned out that Yan Xun, sitting bored on his throne, was repeatedly striking the golden chair with his whip handle.

“Snap, snap, snap…”

Everyone became solemn; no one dared speak. A man in his thirties walked to the first carriage, raised his hand, and with a swish, pulled off the black cloth.

“Wah!”

A low exclamation spread like the sea, rippling waves affecting the entire scene. Everyone’s face showed some alarm, yet no one dared to make a questioning sound.