Zhuge Yue had always been a man with a plan. Once he decided on something, he would calmly devise a comprehensive strategy, and then implement it step by step. Nothing could change his mind once it was set.

So in the time that followed, he took a bath, changed his clothes, and examined himself in the mirror. He thought the man in the reflection had sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, and an extraordinary, handsome, and dignified appearance. He felt quite satisfied with himself. Then, feeling somewhat nervous, he sat down and picked up a teacup.

The tea had already cooled. The white porcelain cup with blue patterns was held between his slender fingers, and the light seemed to penetrate through the thin cup, resembling the first ice of early winter.

He leaned back in his chair, carefully planning what he would say and do later, sentence by sentence, with great attention to detail. He imagined various scenarios to anticipate how the other person might respond, how he should react, and how to gradually shift the topic to create an ambiguous atmosphere. He wanted to keep control in his hands while making everything seem natural and effortless.

Good, everything was ready.

He put down the cup and stood up, but just as his fingers touched the door, it was pushed open from the other side.

Chu Qiao stood at the doorway, still wearing her beige dress. The warm light from the corridor shone on her small face, creating a warm glow.

She was holding a bowl that was still steaming. She raised her head, her clear black and white eyes looking him up and down, slightly furrowing her brow in confusion, and asked, “What are you dressed up for so late at night?”

What was happening? Zhuge Yue was momentarily stunned, as this was outside his plan.

However, Young Master Zhuge’s adaptability was quite good. He immediately said with a straight face, “I slept too much during the day and don’t feel tired now. I thought I’d go out for a walk.”

“The closer we get to the north, the colder it gets. The wind is strong at night. You’re dressed too lightly; it’s best not to wander around.”

Chu Qiao walked directly into the room, placed the soup bowl on the table, and beckoned to him, “I saw you didn’t eat much earlier. Come and drink this porridge.”

Zhuge Yue walked over and saw it was just a plain white porridge. He glanced at her and said, “You’re trying to fool me with this kind of thing.”

Chu Qiao glared at him, “You should be grateful to have something to eat. Stop being picky.”

After speaking, she walked in front of him and patted his head as if petting a puppy, saying very seriously, “Eat your meal and go to bed early. Don’t wander outside.”

Then she turned and strode away.

Zhuge Yue was stunned. What was happening? His plan had been interrupted, and when the prey came to his door, he had let her walk away without a fuss.

What about drinking porridge?

He stood up and walked out of the room.

Because they needed to keep a low profile on this journey, the boat was not very large. The corridor was very narrow, only allowing one person to walk through. The lights illuminated his tall figure, dressed in a warm cloud-patterned white robe that made him look elegant and otherworldly in the light.

He walked very slowly, step by step. The boat swayed gently on the vast river, like that spring rain many years ago when he stood on the river embankment watching a boat sail farther and farther away. The world was dim and cold, except for that bundle of flames beside him that burned fiercely, never extinguishing, always capturing his attention from childhood, through growing up, until today.

Suddenly, a song drifted through the air. His footsteps paused slightly as he approached her door. The door wasn’t fully closed, and warm light spilled out. He stood at the entrance, listening to the woman’s gentle singing and the baby’s cooing sounds.

Under two lanterns of orange light, Chu Qiao’s white dress trailed on the floor, her sleeves rolled up high as she crouched beside a black wooden tub, bathing Li Ce’s youngest son.

Rong’er was chubby, and though still very young, his features resembled his father’s—eyes slightly curved upward, fox-like peach blossom eyes that almost disappeared when he smiled.

He now sat in the wooden tub, holding a string of small bells that jingled clearly. The child splashed water in rhythm, soaking Chu Qiao all over. Each time Chu Qiao exclaimed “aiya” and dodged, he clapped his hands and giggled happily.

“Be good, Rong’er. No mischief.”

Chu Qiao tried to communicate with the child, but he wouldn’t cooperate. His plump little legs kicked wildly, splashing half the water out of the tub.

“Don’t be so naughty. Even your father isn’t as troublesome as you.”

Chu Qiao’s upper body was completely wet, her clothes dripping with water. Rong’er tilted his head back, babbling as if arguing with her.

“Do you look anything like a prince?”

“Yiyi yaya wuwu oooo @#$&X*%￥@&……”

“You even have opinions when I scold you?”

“Shall I sing you a song?”

The child blinked, looking up at her. His chubby little hands grabbed the fabric at Chu Qiao’s neck, trying desperately to climb out, clearly expressing his disinterest in bath time and the promised song.

However, Chu Qiao seemed not to notice and, in a singing mood, patted the child’s head and said, “I’m going to sing now, listen carefully.”

“￥%#……&*%#@……*&%￥#@……”

“Yiyi￥#@%ya&*%￥@ya woo*&%￥*#@woo oooo……”

The gentle song floated in the air like soothing incense, creating a calm atmosphere. The warm lamplight cast a circle of round light. The woman in white crouched on the ground, her long hair cascading over her slender shoulders, with a chubby white child in the black wooden tub.

The woman sang with great enthusiasm, but the child in the tub wasn’t impressed at all. They grabbed each other’s hands and feet—the one inside desperately trying to climb out, the one outside firmly holding him down, yet her singing voice remained incredibly gentle. No one could understand what she was singing; her pronunciation now resembled Rong’er’s, full of strange sounds, but through that gentle melody, one could feel the emotion in the song, like that of a kind mother, or even more, a passionate lover.

With a “bang,” the small tub finally tipped over. Rong’er crawled out naked, laughing triumphantly. His eyes curved up, identical to his father’s.

The room was a mess. Chu Qiao’s dress was completely wet. She seemed slightly dazed as she looked at the child as if seeing Li Ce through him. She glared and said angrily, “The person has left, but he left behind such a troublemaker to bully me.”

Rong’er chuckled, wiggling his chubby little bottom as he crawled toward the door. Just as Chu Qiao reached out to grab him, she caught sight of the man leaning against the doorframe.

He seemed to have been standing there for a long time. The corridor’s light shone in, casting a halo on his handsome face. His gaze was profound, his skin fair, but not like that of a typical weak scholar—rather, it was the fairness of nobility, like fine white jade. He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her with interest, appearing somewhat lazy yet mischievous. Though his lips weren’t smiling, his eyes already held amusement.

For a moment, she found herself speechless.

She thought, perhaps she was bewitched by his handsomeness.

Rong’er wiggled his little white bottom from side to side as he crawled to the door. Seeing the unexpected visitor, he tilted his head back ninety degrees. Initially intending to shout with borrowed confidence, perhaps realizing he wasn’t even as tall as the other’s boots, he suddenly became sensible and remained silent.

He sat there thinking for a moment, looked back at Chu Qiao, then up at Zhuge Yue, then turned to look at his small cradle by the bed. The child engaged in an intense internal struggle. Finally, he made a sound resembling a sigh and tugged at Zhuge Yue’s clothes, and Zhuge Yue looked down at him. The child pointed at a small jade sword ornament hanging from Zhuge Yue’s waist, babbling incoherently.

This was an ornament Zhuge Yue had specifically chosen to match his outfit tonight. It looked translucent and green in the lamplight. Zhuge Yue untied it and handed it to the child.

Rong’er first put it in his mouth and bit it a couple of times. He didn’t seem to have teeth yet and couldn’t taste anything, so he just gripped it tightly in his hand and quickly crawled out the door.

The chubby child wriggled from side to side until he reached a room adjacent to Chu Qiao’s, then sat on the ground and kicked the door with his stubby legs quite forcefully.

Mei Xiang opened the door with drowsy eyes, saw him, and happily exclaimed, quickly picking up the child. Then she found it strange and peered out toward Chu Qiao’s room. Suddenly seeing Zhuge Yue, Mei Xiang’s pretty face flushed with happiness. She knowingly nodded at Young Master Zhuge, then carried the child back into her room.

Just like that, the troublesome little one was dismissed.

Zhuge Yue thought that although the little fellow was a bit annoying when it came to matters like this, he was as sensible as his father.

As if entering his room, he calmly closed the door, then slowly walked up to Chu Qiao, looking down at her. He extended his hand and said, “Aren’t you going to get up?”

Chu Qiao felt somewhat embarrassed and frowned in annoyance. What was wrong with her? Was she truly bewitched by his good looks?

She didn’t take his hand, intending to stand up by herself. However, as soon as she moved, her feet gave way. The floor was so slippery that she cried out “Ah!” and fell back down before she could stand straight.

The expected pain didn’t come. Zhuge Yue quickly grabbed her waist, his warm palm pressing against her skin. Her soaked clothes couldn’t hide her delicate curves, and clinging to her body, they added a sense of luxurious intimacy.

She had been crouching for too long, and her legs had gone numb. Zhuge Yue lifted her and placed her on the bed. Her hair was wet, dripping water, and her clothes were soaked as if she had been the one dunked in the wooden tub.

Zhuge Yue took a quilt and draped it over her shoulders, then stood in front of her to tighten it around her, saying, “Don’t catch cold.”

The lamps in the room cast an ambiguous light, illuminating his face with a hazy, dreamlike quality. He took a dry cotton cloth and wrapped it around her hair. This man, of all people, now stood before her, carefully drying her hair, very attentively, yet without saying a word.

Chu Qiao’s palms began to sweat. The room suddenly felt very hot. Wrapped in the thick quilt, sweat trickled down her already wet clothes. Her skin felt sticky, and the quilt was warm and humid. A few strands of hair fell across her forehead, obscuring her vision. Through her hair, she could only see the faint cloud patterns on his white robe, circling and circling, making her dizzy.

“What song were you singing just now?”

Zhuge Yue suddenly asked, his voice so gentle, with a hint of masculine huskiness, yet pleasant to hear, echoing softly in the air, beating against her eardrums.

She looked up and saw his face, handsome beyond words. His scent was pleasant, making one want to sleep peacefully.

Seeing she didn’t answer, Zhuge Yue slightly raised his eyebrows and asked, “What is it called?”

“Xingxing,” she replied softly.

“Xingxing?” Zhuge Yue was stunned and asked, “Is that your hometown language?”

“Yes.” Chu Qiao nodded honestly.

“Sing it for me.”

His voice seemed to hold a magical quality that night, making her unwilling to argue or bicker with him as usual. She slowly took two deep breaths, and her clean, gentle voice softly echoed in the air, like early spring raindrops quietly striking a lotus pond, splashing tiny drops of water.

The song seemed to grow wings, drifting through the years gone by.

From their first meeting to their journey of fighting for survival. Life was like a field of wild grass, not knowing where traps were buried or where unexpected new life might emerge. He stood before her, drying her hair, his slender fingers running through her black tresses, like rippling the waters of time. The fabric of his clothes was so soft. Her head rested against his waist as she softly sang her favorite song from her previous life.

The room was so warm, reminding her of many years ago, those days at St. Luo’an Orphanage.

The dean was an old soldier who had fought in the eight-year War of Resistance and on the Korean battlefield. He had lost a leg in battle but had destroyed an American aircraft. After retiring, he returned to his hometown with his pension and opened an orphanage, specifically for children without parents. She was different from other orphans; she was fortunate to have a good grandfather. Later, her grandfather supported her education and asked friends to help her enter military school, join the army, become a soldier, and protect the country.

She didn’t disappoint her grandfather and gradually grew stronger. She excelled in her studies and was quick-witted, kind, and upright. Finally, she gradually entered the military zone, the command post, and joined the national military intelligence department. Life was like a well-planned highway, and she traveled it without incident.

From a very young age, her grandfather had taught her that as a soldier, one must be loyal to the country, protect the nation, protect the people, and protect the weak. He told her so many military stories, taught her about integrity and conduct, about the meaning and principles of life. She was like a small tree, growing up under her grandfather’s care. She still remembered how happy her grandfather was when she completed her first mission and received a commendation. His wrinkles quivered in the sunlight, and his chest vibrated when he laughed. Her grandfather hugged her, joyfully calling her his good granddaughter.

Those were the happiest days of her life, having the person in the world who loved her the most, having the warmest embrace in the world.

Her grandfather had studied in England when he was young, speaking excellent foreign languages. He taught her English, Western etiquette, and how to waltz.

Left, right, left, right, side step, three steps together, twirl…

And there was the song her grandfather taught her:

She suddenly reached out and embraced Zhuge Yue’s waist. The shadows from the candles formed circling halos, dancing in the corners of the room, drifting and swaying, passing by the window. The boat rocked on the water, the mountains on both shores rushed by, and faintly, one could hear the sound of the wind blowing.

“Xingxing,” Zhuge Yue lowered his head and asked, “What do the lyrics of this song mean?”

For some reason, Chu Qiao suddenly blushed. She lowered her head and remained silent.

Warm breath came from above. His chest vibrated slightly, and Chu Qiao knew he was laughing—silently, but she just knew.

“It sounds beautiful.”

Zhuge Yue crouched down, looking directly at her, and said with a smile, “I like it very much.”

Chu Qiao didn’t dare look directly into his eyes and changed the subject: “Why did you come? It’s so late.”

“I’m thinking of someone who keeps me awake at night.”

He suddenly said such words, and Chu Qiao was momentarily stunned, instantly losing her ability to speak.

“That person is beautiful and adorable, but somewhat foolish. If I’m not careful watching over her, she’ll hurt herself. And she easily gets lost, wanders off, and could be taken away by others. So even when I’m very close to that person, I still can’t put my mind at ease. If I don’t come to check on her, I worry and can’t sleep.”

Chu Qiao’s face was flushed red. Like a thief, she secretly raised her head to glance at Zhuge Yue and said softly, “Am I as foolish as you say?”

“Even more foolish than I said,” Zhuge Yue’s eyes sparkled as he laughed heartily. “But, I don’t know how that fellow Li Ce could have such an endearing child, making me worry so much.”

Chu Qiao was stunned, suddenly realizing she’d been tricked. She raised her fist to hit him but was caught by Zhuge Yue.

His hand was large and warm, tightly holding her fist.

She never knew his hand was so strong, strong enough that she couldn’t move at all.

He slowly drew closer, his eyes like a dark, deep pool, concealing the turbulent waves within.

His voice was deep and husky as he whispered in her ear, “This is punishment for your mischief earlier today.”

After saying this, he lowered his head to kiss her lips. She immediately became extremely nervous. Although she had lived two lives and wasn’t without kissing experience, for some reason, whenever she faced him, she still became a complete mess, seemingly not knowing where to put her hands and feet.

But after closing her eyes and waiting for a long time, nothing happened. She carefully opened her eyes just a crack and saw him grinning at her in the lamplight. Seeing her peeking, he moved closer, his warm breath on her face, and said, “Are you waiting for me to kiss you?”

“Zhuge Yue!” Chu Qiao angrily pushed him. “You’re bullying me!”

He suddenly embraced her, so unexpected and forceful that the quilt covering her and the cloth on her head were knocked away.

He turned her face toward him and kissed her hard, holding her tightly, so tight that it seemed he wanted to absorb her into his body. His kiss was cool while her face was burning hot. His breathing was deep as his hand gripped her waist. Their bodies pressed tightly together, their skin close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats.

One beat, two beats, three beats…

“Chu Qiao,”

He looked at her, suddenly calling her name, his eyes seeming to ignite with a great fire. Without blinking, he said steadily, “Marry me.”

Chu Qiao was immediately stunned. The lamplight shone on Zhuge Yue’s face—half illuminated, half hidden in shadow, looking somewhat unreal. Her ears seemed to have misheard. She felt awkward, wanting to say something but opening her mouth without knowing how to respond.

“Xingxing,” he looked at her quietly, calling her this way again.

Her head felt a bit dizzy as she responded, “Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Like a bomb exploding overhead, Chu Qiao felt her face burning, her body rapidly heating up, her thoughts freezing like cement mixed with water. She stared at him foolishly, a pleasant yet panicked feeling pounding in her chest. Chu Qiao covered it with her hand as if without pressing it down, it would jump out.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, did you know that?”

He asked her so casually as if they were discussing someone else’s affairs, without any awkwardness or panic.

Chu Qiao nodded, “I knew.”

“What about you?” His eyes were too bright; Chu Qiao felt she might suffocate.

Gathering her courage, she said softly, “Me too.”

But he wouldn’t let her off so easily, asking with a smile, “What do you mean by ‘me too’?”

The boat was really small, Chu Qiao thought at that moment. Why was the room so small, so hot? She could hardly breathe.

“Say it.” He moved forward domineeringly, gently pinching her pointed chin, and said, “What do you mean by ‘me too’?”

“I also,” Chu Qiao clenched her fist hard, as many scenes rushed to her from across mountains and rivers, “I also love you.”

I also love you…

That voice was so soft, instantly piercing through the darkness of night, illuminating the smile on his face. He kissed her forehead and asked, “Since when?”

Since when?

Perhaps it was from their reunion at Xizhao Mountain, or that glance amid the lanterns at the Xianyang Festival, or those repeated cries of “survive” at Thousand Fathoms Lake.

Or perhaps, it was from long, long ago—that embrace in the Imperial Tomb of Meishan, that accidental intimacy in Wupeng City, that tacit understanding and companionship of supporting each other and fighting side by side throughout their journey, or those tears when he rescued her from Zhao Chun’er in Tang Capital.

Or dating back to more than ten years ago, in that room filled with orchid fragrance, when the stubborn boy used a white handkerchief to wipe away her tears and snot, so persistently, stubbornly, and wildly entering her heart.

Without notice, without asking if she was willing.

“I don’t know.”

She reached out to smooth his slightly furrowed brow, which showed his dissatisfaction. “Perhaps it was from long, long ago, so long that I don’t even know myself, and can’t say which time it was.”

She leaned against his chest and said softly, “Perhaps it was many times, accumulating bit by bit, and I can’t remember anymore.”

“You are a fool.”

He held her and suddenly said with a smile, “Actually, I don’t know either.”

Yes, perhaps it was just like that. No one knows which time it was. Love always comes quietly, and by the time you realize it, it has already taken root deeply.

He lowered his head to kiss her, kissing her lips, cheeks, earlobes, and neck, gradually spreading to kiss her delicate collarbone.

Chu Qiao’s body grew increasingly soft, gradually nestling against him. Zhuge Yue’s body became hot, the hand at her waist slowly moving upward, spreading bit by bit like a raging fire, gradually burning away her remaining rationality.

“Ah!”

Chu Qiao suddenly cried out, experiencing a moment of disorientation as she was lifted and laid across the bed.

Her clothes were mostly wet, hardly different from wearing nothing.

He looked at her that way, his brow slightly furrowed as if thinking about something, yet his gaze was burning.

Heavy breathing sounded in her ear, as moist lips took hold of her small earlobe, triggering an electrifying numbness. The ribbon at the side of her clothes was deftly untied, revealing the small undergarments inside—beige colored, embroidered with a small yellow bird.

Her rounded shoulders were exposed to the air, feeling slightly cool. His slender fingers brushed over them, sparking a wave of soft weakness, moving horizontally. With a flick of his little finger, the ties at her neck unfastened, and her clothes slid down. Chu Qiao was startled and instinctively held them, only to be met with a brief chuckle from above.

“Shy?”

Chu Qiao struggled to move away from his embrace, foolishly pointing at the candle at the foot of the bed. Her voice was hoarse beyond recognition as she pleaded pitifully, “Blow out the light.”

Zhuge Yue suddenly laughed happily, still in his usual manner—turning his head away without making a sound, yet one could see the upward curve of his mouth.

All around was silent; one could only hear the occasional water bird skimming over the river, flapping its wings with a rustling sound.

He embraced her waist and whispered in her ear, “Don’t be afraid.”

The brocade was smooth, and the moment his kiss fell, she felt momentarily dazed and breathless. Her skin raised in a layer of soft goosebumps, her body gradually heating up as layers of clothing were removed, leaving her shy, bare form.

Smooth, snow-white, like glassy jade, carved with divine craftsmanship. This was territory no one had ever trodden, swaying with youthful vitality and tenderness. He gently covered her, skin against skin, like a burning fire, igniting bit by bit.

Her breath was completely overwhelmed. Her face pressed against his shoulder blade, and she abruptly saw that hideous wound. Her body went cold, and she trembled.

He sensed it and quickly covered her eyes with his hand, saying softly, “Don’t look.”

But she pulled his hand away and reached out with trembling hands to embrace his shoulders. Her soft cheek pressed tightly against his wound, tears flowing down in rivulets, winding across that blackish-red scar.

Zhuge Yue silently took her into his arms, not speaking, just quietly watching her cry.

On the day of Li Ce’s burial, she had sworn never to cry again. But now, seeing the wound on his body, seeing the places she had repeatedly stabbed, she still felt unbearably sad. She held him tightly, as if afraid that if she let go, he would disappear, just like that frozen lake long ago when she let go and could no longer see him.

“Zhuge Yue, I’m sorry.”

She said through her tears.

“Silly girl.”

Zhuge Yue kissed her cloud-like hair and laughed softly, “You’ve ruined my looks; you must take responsibility for me.”

Chu Qiao knew he was joking. Still sobbing, she retorted, “The wound is… on your shoulder, it doesn’t… doesn’t count as ruining your looks.”

Zhuge Yue laughed softly, his pupils black as a deep pool, bottomless, reflecting only her lotus-like image. His soft lips gently kissed away the tears on her cheeks as he murmured, “Doesn’t matter, you still have to take responsibility.”

His arms were so strong they almost hurt her, but amid the pain, she was so happy, as if immersed in joy as vast as the ocean.

How wonderful that they could have today. Once upon a time, she thought everything had come to an abrupt end, buried in the cold lake waters, with no chance of turning back.

Their intimacy deepened. Fine beads of sweat slid from her forehead. All around was the blue water of the river. No human voices could be heard. Time seemed to stand still at this moment. Even the wind had stopped blowing, leaving only them amidst splendor. An involuntary soft moan escaped her lips as pain arched her body. A warm, salty sensation slid between her legs, spots of bright red like cinnabar.

His movements suddenly froze. Disbelief flashed across his brow before he gazed deeply at her as if peering through layers of fog, seeking confirmation of the path ahead from distant lights.

Her face was so red, her lips swollen. Her hand pulled at her nightgown, nervously covering her chest. Seeing him look over, she just stared blankly, without a word.

He suddenly smiled in a way Chu Qiao had never seen before. At first, it was just a slight curl of his lips, but gradually it became audible. The sound grew louder, frightening Chu Qiao into quickly reaching out her small hand to try to cover his mouth.

But he suddenly buried his head in the crook of her neck, saying softly, “Xingxing, I’m so happy.”

Her arms, so slender, embraced his waist. His physique was so perfect, like a CK jeans model from television. In the darkness, she smiled happily. The pair of red candles had gradually burned out, with wax trickling down. She thought with a smile, this is my wedding night.

Through so many people, so many events, so much time, national grudges and family hatreds, life and death, partings, time and space, this life and the previous one, step by step, they had still arrived at today.

She buried her face in his shoulder, freely letting her tears flow.