This autumn slipped away slowly amid such sweetness and joy. Though the autumn leaves fell, the golden chrysanthemums bloomed in clusters, adorning the already splendid Sima Mansion with even greater grandeur. Days passed quickly, like spring lakes in March, flowing through fingers, yet leaving behind the sweetness and hope of spring days in one’s palm, lingering for a long time.

On the day of the Autumn Festival, Chu Qiao accompanied Zhuge Yue out of the mansion. They went to enjoy Xiangzhi Mountain, thirty miles away and took the opportunity to visit and worship at Anyuan Temple on the mountain.

Although Chu Qiao had lived in Zhenhuang City for seven or eight years, she had barely visited any of the famous scenic spots around the imperial city. Firstly, her previous status wouldn’t allow it, and secondly, she never had the right state of mind. But now, with the vicissitudes of life and everything changed from the past, she was able to open her heart. The weather that day was excellent—clear and bright. Though there was a hint of a cool breeze, it made everything feel even more refreshing. Chu Qiao wore a moon-white pleated silk dress with a long satin cape. Accompanied by a group of excited attendants who had heard they were going out to play, they set off grandly.

Xiangzhi Mountain was located directly south of Zhenhuang, rising abruptly from a plain. Its peak was covered in snow year-round, resembling a lying dragon, lonely and isolated. The mountainside was covered with maple forests, which now appeared as bright as fire, creating a beautiful landscape. Today was the Autumn Festival, and wealthy households from Zhenhuang City were all out touring, with crowds of visitors, laughter, and a lively atmosphere.

As they climbed Xiangzhi Mountain and found themselves amidst layers of red maple forests, the magnificent scenery was breathtaking. Jingqing and Ping’an led the way with Mo’er, shouting and chasing each other. He Xiaoduoji and a group of Moon Guards protected them on all sides. Moon Seven had also brought Little Fei along, taking advantage of the festival to give this virtuous wife and good mother a break.

Zhuge Yue held Chu Qiao’s hand, walking upward, occasionally citing classics and engaging in witty conversation with everyone. This young master was rarely so happy and easygoing. Everyone was glad to join in, surrounding them like stars around the moon. Occasional passersby would turn to look, wondering which noble family was out on an excursion.

Zhuge Yue had always been very busy. He was the Minister of War in Great Xia, as well as the tributary prince of Qinghai, and now had subtly become the spokesperson for the Zhuge clan. Holding multiple positions, he carried military and political responsibilities, while constantly guarding against the attacks from both Zhao Yang and Yan Bei. These days, although he returned to the mansion on time every day to dine and chat with Chu Qiao, and rest with her, whenever Chu Qiao woke up in the middle of the night, she would not find him by her side. Opening the window, she could see the light burning all night in his study.

At such times, she always pretended not to know, going back to bed and sleeping soundly, until early the next morning when she would smile and ask him if he had slept well, watching him reply with dark circles under his eyes that he had slept extremely well.

His health was not as good as he made it appear. Having suffered such severe injuries years ago and having swum underwater for so long, it was already a miracle that he had survived. Now, as the weather grew colder, his ailments became increasingly apparent.

Autumn rains made everything cooler, and whenever it was cloudy or rainy, his complexion would worsen. Occasionally, waking up at midnight, she could hear his deep, suppressed breathing, see the fine cold sweat on the back of his neck, and his nightclothes soaked on his back, clinging softly to his spine.

At such times, she could never say anything, only lying in the dark with her eyes wide open, looking at the dimly glowing pearl chandelier, her fists clenched, lips pale, counting the fine sand in the water clock, quietly waiting for dawn. Then, the next day, she would frantically bring braziers into the room. She even directed craftsmen to spend more than ten days building a heating system, making the bedroom as hot as a furnace.

Yesterday morning, while eating breakfast, Jingqing and Ping’an talked about the lively Autumn Festival. She had merely casually agreed, but he remembered it. He didn’t say anything at the time, but the next day, he canceled all his appointments and, under the pretext of going to the mountain to worship Buddha, took her on an outing.

All these years, he had always been a stubborn and proud person, never believing in gods or Buddhas, rebellious and self-willed like a child. Chu Qiao mocked him for his sudden change of heart in wanting to worship Buddha. He smiled at her mysteriously, saying that while other Buddhas could be skipped, there was one Buddha they had to worship.

When Chu Qiao and the others entered the side hall of Anyuan Temple, her cheeks couldn’t help but blush slightly. Jingqing and the others laughed aloud, with only Little Fei seriously kowtowing and bowing, turning back to glare at the group of irreverent youngsters.

Incense smoke curled around them, and the great hall was solemn. The Guanyin, Bringer of Children, sat benevolently on the altar. The midday light shone from outside the hall, penetrating layers of fine incense ash, sprinkling on the spacious hall. Zhuge Yue’s voice was right beside her ear, carrying the warm richness of his smile, softly saying, “One must be sincere when worshiping Buddha.”

Chu Qiao turned her head and saw his bright eyes looking at her with a smile, showing some seriousness but also a bit of childish mischief.

She turned around with a smile, quite naturally kneeling, placing her palms together, silently making the wishes that thousands of women had made before, then placing both hands on the prayer cushion and bowing sincerely.

First bow, bless him with good health, to encounter good fortune in all matters, to turn misfortune into blessing.

Second bow, bless us to stay together safely, with no more separations.

Third bow, bless us to fulfill our wishes, to have a healthy child.

She bowed down one by one, so devoutly, with unprecedented satisfaction and peace on her face.

Buddha, you have blessed so many people, now, please bless me once too.

Jingqing, Mo’er, and the others were giggling behind her. Little Fei was earnestly persuading them to respect the deity. Moon Seven and He Xiao were chatting casually outside, talking about some lieutenant from a certain regiment who was caught by his wife at a brothel and beaten in the street, making all the guards laugh heartily.

The autumn weather was a bit cool, with the sky bright and high. She knelt there, looking up at the deity above, feeling that life was peaceful and good. The bloody storms of memories had long since departed, and her state of mind had never been as peaceful and tranquil as today.

Zhuge Yue helped her up, his arms gently encircling her waist, his cold lips giving her forehead a light kiss, and then he softly laughed.

Sharp-eyed Jingqing grabbed Little Fei, repeatedly calling, “Sister-in-law Seven, sister-in-law, look quickly, sister and brother-in-law are the ones disrespecting the deity!”

Everyone who heard this began to snicker quietly. Zhuge Yue didn’t care at all, while Chu Qiao’s cheeks flushed slightly as she gently pushed away from his embrace, but her hands below tightly held his arm, not letting go.

“Do you want to stay on the mountain to eat vegetarian food?” Zhuge Yue asked. Before Chu Qiao could respond, she saw Ping’an winking at her from the side. Understanding immediately, she said, “Let’s go down the mountain. We’re all carnivores here; there’s no need to force ourselves to follow the trend.”

Mo’er laughed foolishly, while Ping’an excitedly ran forward to tell Zhuge Yue how delicious certain dishes at Deyue Pavilion were, with Jingqing echoing his sentiments. Zhuge Yue gave Ping’an a flick on the forehead, jokingly scolding him as a “stinky kid,” and then led everyone out of the dignified Buddha hall.

After generously donating oil money, the temple prepared a quiet courtyard for them. Moon Seven and others went to prepare the carriages, leaving only Zhuge Yue, Chu Qiao, and a few others sitting among the falling maple leaves, enjoying tea.

Soon after they sat down, Little Fei became restless. Chu Qiao thought she needed to relieve herself but was too embarrassed to say so, so she took her to the side courtyard. However, with red cheeks, Little Fei eventually explained that there was a fortune teller in the temple of the Guanyin, Bringer of Children, who was extremely accurate. The pills he sold were also magical medicine. She had conceived twice because she had taken the fortune teller’s magic pills, but neither Moon Seven nor the young master believed in this. Now that they were here, she could only secretly go to buy some.

Chu Qiao naturally didn’t believe it, thinking, “Your pregnancies and childbirth are Moon Seven’s accomplishment. What does a street fortune teller have to do with it?” But seeing her speak so earnestly, she didn’t have the heart to refuse. She informed Zhuge Yue and accompanied Little Fei to the fortune-telling stall located on the maple path outside the main hall.

The fortune teller had white hair and a white beard, looking thin and aloof, indeed having an otherworldly appearance.

Upon seeing Chu Qiao, he immediately said she was a person of great wealth and nobility, though her life had many entanglements and constraints. As long as she sincerely turned to Buddha, there would be ways to break through disasters. Little Fei nodded repeatedly, continuously winking at Chu Qiao, as if to say, “See how accurate this fortune teller is.”

Chu Qiao knew that these were common phrases all fortune tellers used. Who doesn’t have a few worries in life? As for great wealth and nobility, just by looking at the attire of the two women, one could make a pretty accurate guess.

Little Fei sat at the stall, drawing divination sticks to ask about good and bad fortune, busying herself with great enjoyment. Chu Qiao stood beside her, bored, when suddenly she saw a very familiar figure in the distance. She immediately froze in place.

After a while, she whispered instructions to Little Fei, then quietly followed the figure.

In the blink of an eye, it had been six years since they last met.

Among the red maples, he wore a white robe, looking plain and unadorned, no longer with the dashing spirit of the past. The autumn wind blew, lifting a sleeve lightly, like willow catkins with no branch to rely on, floating softly.

“Your Highness, would you like some water?”

An eighteen or nineteen-year-old attendant walked forward, with a cold voice. Although dressed as a man, it was clear she was a young woman, but she had her back to Chu Qiao, so her face wasn’t visible.

Zhao Song turned around. His once carefree, slightly chubby face was now as thin as a blade. Though his figure was still upright, it showed signs of fatigue and frailty. His eyes no longer held the spirit of the past, calm and still like an ancient well. Though barely in his twenties, his temples were already streaked with gray.

He shook his head and said calmly, “I want to walk alone.”

But the young woman didn’t move, just slightly lowering her head, holding the water pouch. The clear breeze blew past her profile, carrying a vague, inexplicable familiarity. She suddenly raised her head, looking at Zhao Song, and said steadily, “Is Your Highness waiting for someone?”

Zhao Song’s expression showed slight displeasure. He frowned and asked, “What are you saying?”

“How long has Your Highness not left the mansion? Why are you so interested today?”

Zhao Song’s expression grew increasingly displeased. He looked at her deeply twice, then turned to leave. The young woman was startled and hurriedly caught up, grabbing his sleeve, saying sadly, “Has Your Highness forgotten what the Fourteenth Prince said?”

Zhao Song, with his sleeve in her grasp, slowly turned his head, his eyes like deep pools, staring deeply at the young woman in men’s clothes, saying solemnly, “Wuxin, not everyone in this world has wronged you. Is your hatred too long-lasting?”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the layers of maple forest.

The young woman stood motionless with her back to Chu Qiao, her silhouette wavering, her black hair like willows, her figure so thin that it seemed a gust of wind could blow her away. Indispensable loneliness flowed slowly from her rejected fingertips, drifting layer by layer through the forest. She stood silently for a long time. Finally, she wiped her face with her sleeve, as if wiping away something, then lifted her foot to follow in the direction Zhao Song had gone.

Birds flew and sang in the forest. Faintly, Chu Qiao seemed to see again the scene from many years ago: him wearing a little blue robe embroidered with colorful birds, brocaded and colorful, swinging a little golden whip in his hand, looking at her proudly and saying, “Of all the maids in the mansion, I find you the most pleasing. I’ll make you my gate-guarding general, how about that?”

A gust of wind blew by, and she suddenly felt so cold.

Little Fei’s voice gradually approached. She came back to her senses and returned hand in hand with the good mother who, after having two children, was still not satisfied.

Everyone was somewhat tired after touring for half a day, so they took carriages down the mountain. As the carriage swayed along, Zhuge Yue saw that she wasn’t in high spirits and frowned, asking if she was tired. Chu Qiao nodded, saying she was, and leaned on his shoulder, drowsily closing her eyes, but couldn’t fall asleep.

Zhuge Yue held her hand, which was ice-cold. Concerned, he ordered Moon Seven to hurry.

“In a few days, Zhao Che will be getting married,” he said.

Chu Qiao was startled and raised her head slightly. Zhuge Yue smiled and said, “He’s been unlucky these years, almost becoming an old bachelor. You don’t know the bride, but I think you’ll like her. She’s the youngest daughter of the Eastern Hu leader, named Wanyan Rou. Though her name contains the character ‘gentle,’ she’s not gentle at all—an arrogant and domineering crazy girl, but pure-hearted and kind. When she comes to the capital, I’ll take you to meet her.”

Chu Qiao nodded, seeming to think of something, but ultimately said nothing.

After the Autumn Festival, the weather began to turn cold. The lake’s surface froze, and with a heavy snowfall, the world became a blanket of white. The houses were warm all day, making people lazy.

These days, people were coming and going to the Sima Mansion. Zhuge Yue also seemed particularly busy, and even Moon Seven hadn’t been seen for a long time. According to Little Fei, he had been sent by Zhuge Yue on an errand and had been gone for seven or eight days.

That night, Chu Qiao casually asked Zhuge Yue about it, but he mysteriously didn’t answer, only saying he had a surprise for her.

The surprise came quickly. Three days later, Sun Di dispatched someone from Bian Tang to deliver personal letters and imperial documents to her.

It turned out that Zhuge Yue, Minister of War of Great Xia, had sent people to Bian Tang to propose marriage, to the Beauty Princess of Bian Tang. The first batch of betrothal gifts and dowry had already been sent to the Bian Tang Palace.

When Chu Qiao received the news, Zhuge Yue was still lounging in bed, not yet risen, wearing a white satin nightgown that was translucent. He propped his head up with one hand, glancing at her with a half-smile, looking lazy.

Chu Qiao walked up to him, spread out the letters, and asked, “What’s going on?”

Zhuge Yue calmly replied, “What do you mean? Men should marry, women should wed—it’s the natural order of things.”

Chu Qiao frowned, “But my status is awkward. With your current position, aren’t you afraid of court criticism?”

Zhuge Yue smiled lightly, saying disdainfully, “I, Zhuge Yue, am getting married. What do others’ criticisms have to do with me?”

Like a hot water bottle being punctured, warm water flowed over her heart. Her smile couldn’t be contained and slowly spilled out. She crouched down, resting her head on his leg, not moving.

Zhuge Yue sat up and embraced her, bending down to nuzzle her hair with his chin, saying softly, “I’ve thought about this for so many years. How could I let you enter my household quietly? I must announce it to the world, tell everyone that you are mine.”

The following days suddenly became busy. Chu Qiao didn’t know what methods Zhuge Yue had used, but it seemed as if the entire upper society of Zhenhuang had collectively forgotten overnight. No one remembered that she had once helped Yan Xun escape Zhenhuang, no one remembered that she had twice thwarted Great Xia’s northern expeditions, and no one even remembered that she had personally killed Great Xia’s Third Prince, Zhao Qi.

Day after day, noble ladies from various aristocratic families visited, and all kinds of precious gifts flowed into the Sima Mansion like water. Even some royal officials who weren’t close to Zhuge Yue or Zhao Che sent gifts to save face.

On the third day of the twelfth month, news suddenly came from the Saint Golden Palace that the Emperor was critically ill and urgently summoned Zhuge Yue to attend to him.

According to protocol, when the Emperor was gravely ill, ministers should not be summoned to attend, only princes and kings. However, with the Emperor on his deathbed, no one knew what might happen in the next moment. Prince Jing, Duke Mu of Lingnan, and various regional kings and crown princes were submitting memorials to enter the palace. At this point, it would be unwise to leave Zhao Che alone in the palace. Under these circumstances, Zhuge Yue had no choice but to submit a request to join them. The Emperor, in his illness, had no opinion, and Zhao Yang and others weren’t comfortable letting Zhuge Yue remain free outside. Thus, the Saint Golden Palace became bustling with activity, gathering all the powers of Great Xia.

However, on the very night, all the leaders entered the palace, the Eastern Hu army stationed in the western city clashed with the personal guards brought by Prince Jing. No one knew the exact reason anymore, but when Chu Qiao was awakened by the commotion, the entire western sky was red, with shouts of killing shaking the heavens. All messengers reporting to the palace were blocked outside the palace gates, clearly intentionally permitted by someone.

Half an hour later, the scale of the fighting expanded. The personal troops of the young Duke Mu of Lingnan also joined the battle. The local patrol teams of Zhenhuang, however, watched from the sidelines. No matter how the civilians in the western city cried for help, they were all stopped with the excuse of “waiting for orders from above.” They stood on the perimeter, holding their troops back, waiting for the two sides inside to fight it out.

At this time, various gangs and ruffians in Zhenhuang City took advantage of the chaos to loot. After some minor disturbances and finding no one interfered, they became increasingly rampant. The entire city of Zhenhuang, north, south, east, and west, was filled with wailing. Civilians hid in their homes, trembling with fear, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.

Chu Qiao ordered the household troops to be on high alert, the main gate tightly closed, absolutely not stepping out.

He Xiao and Zhuge Yue’s guard, Moon Six, were responsible for the defense inside the mansion. Soon, the area outside the mansion was suddenly lit up by torches, seemingly surrounded by a large number of troops.

Moon Six and other guards gritted their teeth, flexed their muscles, and drew their wolf knives, looking ready to fight to the death. But Chu Qiao found it strange and sent He Xiao out to gather information.

He Xiao quickly returned, smiling to Chu Qiao that it was the government’s inspection army, ordered from above to protect the Sima Mansion. Soon, the clamor from all directions diminished significantly, suggesting that this so-called inspection army was having an effect. However, when Chu Qiao asked Moon Six, the young guard scratched his head, very puzzled, saying he had never heard of any inspection army.

At the second watch, there was suddenly a commotion at the main gate. Chu Qiao had just stepped out of her room when she saw Zhuge Yue hurriedly entering, wearing a deep purple fur coat. Seeing her, he asked, “Did I scare you?”

Chu Qiao smiled and said, “Do you think I’m made of paper? When I was out killing and burning, you probably weren’t even born yet.”

Zhuge Yue picked up a teacup, took a sip, forced a smile, and sat down.

Chu Qiao asked, “What’s happening?”

Regarding Zhuge Yue’s affairs, Chu Qiao seldom inquired. Firstly, her status and position were truly unsuitable for knowing too much; secondly, she no longer had the energy to meddle in such matters. But tonight’s events made her genuinely concerned.

Zhuge Yue looked up, seeing her worried expression, and felt slightly guilty. He held her cold hand and said, “It’s Jing Han and his people causing trouble. The South Gate is controlled by Zhao Yang’s men. I came out through the North Gate, which is why I was a bit late.”

“What benefit do they gain from causing trouble? If it escalates, the Council of Elders will send all the border troops back to their territories. Wouldn’t everyone lose out then?”

Zhuge Yue smiled coldly and said, “That’s exactly what they’re planning.”

Chu Qiao’s brows furrowed, and in a moment, she understood the strategy. She couldn’t help but sigh deeply, “That was close. Fortunately, you got out quickly.”

Zhuge Yue patted her cheek and said, “Don’t worry. I won’t be outmaneuvered by such tactics.”

The current conflict between Zhao Che and Zhao Yang was essentially a conflict between Great Xia’s southwestern army and the Eastern Hu army. Zhao Yang had Jing Han and the young Duke Mu in his arms, while Zhao Che had Zhuge Yue’s Qinghai army. Now that the Emperor was critically ill, various border armies had followed their masters to remain in the capital. Border troops stationed in the imperial capital were already against protocol; once trouble broke out, they would certainly be ordered to return to their territories. However, whether it was Zhao Che or Zhuge Yue and Jing Han, their subordinates were all regional border troops. Only Zhao Yang still controlled the Imperial Capital’s Xiao Cavalry Camp. These 30,000 cavalry might be insignificant on the battlefield, but once all border troops were sent back, these 30,000 troops would be the strongest force in the imperial capital. At that time, if Zhao Che didn’t return to the northern territories with the Eastern Hu army, he would certainly fall into Zhao Yang’s hands. And once he returned to his territory, the next Emperor of Great Xia would be essentially decided.

During this year of the Emperor’s critical illness, similar contests were played out almost daily in Great Xia. Chu Qiao, having led troops before, naturally understood the severity of the situation. She stepped forward to comfort Zhuge Yue: “Be careful in everything. Don’t worry about me. The mansion has enough troops; even if 10,000 people attack, we can hold out for two hours. Next time, don’t divide your forces to protect me.”

Zhuge Yue was startled by her words and asked, “When did I send troops back to the mansion?”

Chu Qiao replied in surprise, “Just now, the government’s inspection army came and guarded us for more than two hours.”

Zhuge Yue’s brows tightened deeply. After thinking for a long time, he shook his head and said, “Those weren’t my men.”

Chu Qiao looked at him doubtfully, her face full of gravity.

Zhuge Yue smiled, holding her hand, and said, “It doesn’t matter. They probably meant no harm.”

“Were they Wei Shuye’s people?”

“If I’m not mistaken, they should be Zhao Thirteen’s people.”

It felt like a handful of snow had been scattered on her heart, instantly turning everything cold. Zhuge Yue’s voice was slightly subdued: “With the Emperor critically ill, almost everyone with power in Zhenhuang City is in the palace. The only person who’s not in the palace at this time and still can mobilize government forces must be him.”

A trace of solemnity flashed across Zhuge Yue’s eyes, and he slowly said, “It’s been so long, I truly had forgotten about him.”

In the great hall, incense smoke curled upward, and the heat was so intense that one could only wear thin gauze. But Chu Qiao stood there feeling cold, feeling the coldness creep from her fingers, climbing up her spine, and boring into her mind.

Zhao Thirteen, Zhao Song, whose arm was cut off by Yan Xun, whose brother died by her hand, whose maternal clan was destroyed by her and Yan Xun. Had the once most prominent prince in Zhenhuang City been forgotten to such an extent? Not even allowed to enter the palace to attend to the ill Emperor?

The fragrance from Zhuge Yue’s clothes entered her nostrils. He held her in his arms, seeing her pale face and blue lips, and felt somewhat distressed. He said softly, “Xing’er, why don’t I send you back to Qinghai first?”

Chu Qiao was in a daze as if she hadn’t heard clearly. Only when he repeated himself did she hurriedly shake her head, nervously grabbing his sleeve, and repeatedly saying, “I don’t want to!”

She looked up at him, stubborn as a wild little lioness. Zhuge Yue sighed helplessly, reached out to hold her, and whispered with a sigh, “It will be soon.”

Yes, it would be soon. Every time the ministers and princes saw the Emperor’s condition, they would say this when they returned home. They would say to their subordinates and loved ones, “It will be soon. The Emperor doesn’t have much time left. The days of anxiety will soon be over.”

Yet day after day, the Emperor’s mouth became crooked, he became confused, he couldn’t recognize people, he couldn’t eat…

It seemed as if the Emperor was hanging on by just a breath, as if at any moment, the Emperor would depart this world, his soul flying beyond. Yet as winter gradually arrived, with snow blocking the gates and silver covering everything, with the Spring Festival approaching, the Emperor still endured day by day. Not only did he not die, but it was said that occasionally he could speak a few complete sentences, occasionally open his eyes, and drink some ginseng soup.

No one knew what that old, broken body was persisting for. It seemed he had some unfulfilled wish, seemed to be waiting for someone, dragging on day after day, unwilling to die, unwilling to close his eyes.

The atmosphere in the capital was also kept tense because of him. Since no one had complete confidence, no one dared to make the first move to kill the Emperor and take action. Zhenhuang City was as tense as a fully drawn bow; even a beggar shouting on the street could cause swords and spears to be drawn. Even newborn babies didn’t dare cry loudly at night.

Early one morning, just after Zhuge Yue had left for morning court, a visitor arrived.

A young woman wearing a pure white fox fur cape stood in the snow-covered landscape. Her eyes were jet black, her lips crimson red, her beauty otherworldly, like a person from a painting.

The winter light was dim yet distant as if coming from another world, cold even when it shone on one’s body. Chu Qiao stood at the doorway facing the wind, wearing a dark blue cape, and suddenly froze. She just stood there looking at her, motionless for a long time.

The visitor smiled faintly, a very thin smile, slowly stepped forward, stood in front of Chu Qiao, and said with a charming smile, “Sixth Sister, don’t you recognize me? I’m Little Eight.”

Time suddenly rushed away so swiftly, like a spring river, meandering eastward, its shadow no longer visible.

That little child from the past had knelt beside her, so small, thin as a wolf cub that had never been fed milk. In the cold moonlight, she had kowtowed, swearing to her dead brothers and sisters, telling them to wait and see, to wait for her to avenge them.

In the blink of an eye, fourteen years had passed.

Chu Qiao remembered that day of the execution. She had hidden in the crowd, listening to the child crying loudly, calling her name, begging her to come and save her. But in the end, she hadn’t stepped forward. Only on a night when the moon was hidden by clouds did she snatch the broken corpse from the mouths of wild dogs, and then, without even a straw mat, let her sink into the cold, clear lake.

Fourteen years. Fourteen years. She had thought she was dead. She had dreamed countless times of her stubborn, tearful face. She had blamed herself and regretted it for fourteen years, and because of this, had hated Zhuge Yue for so long.

Her eyes grew hot, almost bringing tears. Standing by the door, she reached out her hand, her lips curving into a smile—so bitter, yet filled with the joy of surviving a catastrophe—like water overflowing, seeping out little by little.

Little Eight held her hand, smiled very faintly, and said, “I’m amazing, aren’t I? Still alive. You didn’t expect it, did you?”

Her voice was familiar, light, and airy, always carrying a hint of detachment.

They went into the room together. Little Eight walked around the room with great familiarity, then sat down on a soft couch in the corner. Taking a deep breath, she smiled and said, “Zhuge Four still has the same habits, liking to burn agarwood incense in the room.”

With a familiar gesture, she looked around, casually mentioning all of Zhuge Yue’s living habits, then picked up a pomegranate and played with it in her hand.

Chu Qiao looked at her, thousands of words congealed on her lips, not knowing where to begin.

Little Eight smiled at her and said, “Sixth Sister need not be surprised. The person who died that day wasn’t me. At the last moment before the execution, your husband switched me out and raised me for many years. I have both gratitude and grievances with him, but I didn’t come today to force you to fulfill your promise to avenge our family, because even I have long abandoned the idea of revenge.”

Suddenly, there was a hint of wind in the room, making the curtains in the corner slightly roll up. Through the sunlight, one could vaguely see tiny dust particles dancing in mid-air. Between Chu Qiao and Little Eight, the sunlight was so dazzling that she had to squint, yet still couldn’t see Little Eight’s face.

Chu Qiao looked at her, and a sense of unfamiliarity suddenly arose. After thinking for a long time, she still asked gently, “Little Eight, have you been well these years?”

“So-so,” Little Eight said carelessly. “Zhuge Four treated me quite well. I probably benefited from your influence. Later, he went to Master Wolong to study and took me along. I followed him to read and write, but he restricted my freedom and wouldn’t let me leave. I ran away several times but was always caught and brought back. I lived like that for many years until…”

At this point, Little Eight raised her eyelids and glanced at her, suddenly chuckling, and said, “Until news spread that he had died in Yan Bei and the Zhuge clan had expelled him from the family. We, the people of Qingshan Academy, were also driven out. Only then did I gain my freedom. Afterward, I wandered about. Being a girl, I didn’t have any skills to make a living, so I fell into prostitution, drifting in brothels for more than a year. Then I met the Thirteenth Prince. I still have to thank you, Sixth Sister, because I look like you, and was immediately favored by His Highness. Now my status is that of a slave in the prince’s mansion. Hehe, after all these years, I’m still a slave, just with slightly better treatment.”

Chu Qiao listened to her casual tone, heard her mention Zhao Song, and remembered what she had seen on Xiangzhi Mountain days ago—that woman dressed as a man. She gradually frowned and asked solemnly, “You’ve known for a long time that I came to Zhenhuang. Why didn’t you come find me?”

“What would I seek you for?” Little Eight’s sharp eyes swept over, coldly smiling. The young face vaguely carried contempt and coldness. She slowly said, “Sixth Sister now has a noble status, being both Yan Bei’s Beauty General and Bian Tang’s Beauty Princess. Soon you’ll also be Great Xia’s Lady Sima. I, a mere slave, coming rashly, wouldn’t that embarrass Sixth Sister?”

Little Eight’s eyes were cold, especially when she said the words “Lady Sima,” her eyes almost shooting fire.

The incense in the burner gradually ignited, with a thin line of smoke slowly rising. The pale golden light, like sparse water, flowed in layer by layer, casting a fragmented pattern on the polished floor. The room was silent. Chu Qiao silently looked at her, her hot heart cooling inch by inch. The words that had reached her lips were ultimately swallowed back, her mind becoming blank, like the white snow of Yan Bei, a field of cold.

She heard herself asking in a flat, undisturbed voice, “Then why have you come today? What business do you have?”

“His Highness is leaving. I want to ask you to get me a document releasing me from royal slavery, so I can go with His Highness.”

Chu Qiao was somewhat surprised: “Where is Zhao Song going?”

“Where else could he go? To Yanse to guard the horse farm. A Great Xia prince, a legitimate son born of the Empress, actually demoted to guard a horse farm.”

Little Eight’s expression became gloomy. She gritted her teeth and said coldly, her voice carrying tremendous anger, almost uncontrollable.

“Why?”

“Why else? Isn’t it because of you?” Little Eight turned her head, saying coldly, “Since His Highness had his arm cut off by that Yan Bei dog, he has lived in seclusion, never caring about the court disputes, the struggle for succession. With all the princes busy fighting for power, no one paid attention to him. But a few days ago, he mobilized government troops for you and clearly showed goodwill towards you. Do you think people like the Fourteenth Prince would allow someone of his status to remain in the capital?”

Chu Qiao’s hands were unusually cold, her mind buzzing. She only heard Little Eight’s voice sharply ringing in her ears, saying angrily, “I’m not asking you to find a way for His Highness to stay in the capital. I just ask you to get me a document. His Highness won’t take me with him, so I’ll follow on my own. At least I can serve him morning and night, not letting him travel alone. His Highness has shown me kindness, and I will never, like certain people, repay kindness with enmity, being ungrateful.”

After a long while, Chu Qiao raised her head, looking steadily at Little Eight’s picturesque face, and said softly, “Little Eight, must you be so distant from me?”

“What is Sixth Sister saying? What is your status, and what is Little Eight’s status? How dare I aspire to your level? Moreover…”

“If you continue to speak like this, leave immediately. Don’t ask me for anything. I’ll just pretend I don’t have you as a sister!”

Chu Qiao suddenly said angrily, her voice freezing. Little Eight was stunned, staring blankly at the enraged Chu Qiao, unable to say a word.

“What are you resenting? What are you angry about? Are you angry that I couldn’t protect you back then, couldn’t take you away? Or are you angry that today I can’t avenge Zhi Xiang and Lin Xi, but instead marry the enemy, submitting to the foe?”

Chu Qiao said angrily, “In these years if you’ve suffered, I haven’t necessarily been happy. I thought you were dead, and I’ve been feeling guilty and self-reproachful for fourteen years. Today you come to me with cold mockery. Is this the sisterly affection between us?”

The midday light shone in, casting bright patches on the ground. Chu Qiao stood up, looking coldly at her: “It’s been fourteen years. How many things have happened in between? Your head is filled with your misfortune and sorrow, and then you blame everything on others. I truly wonder if you’re still that strong and brave sister I knew back then. You call yourself ‘Wuxin’ (No Heart). Have you become heartless?”

Little Eight stood in place, her face slightly pale. Chu Qiao suddenly felt so tired, as if every piece of skin on her body was screaming with fatigue.

She slowly turned away, saying softly, “You may go. I will handle Zhao Song’s matter.”

Then she returned to her room.

After a long time, Little Eight finally left. Through the window paper, Chu Qiao watched as she left the Sima Mansion escorted by Mei Xiang and others. Her figure was very thin, her clothes snow-white, as if about to merge into the vast snow.

Chu Qiao watched her, recalling her earlier words: being confined, wandering alone, falling into prostitution…

She bit her lip, her heart increasingly desolate, sitting alone until dusk fell.

Zhuge Yue embraced her from behind, his deep voice sounding behind her with a hint of reproach: “Why didn’t you eat dinner?”

Chu Qiao leaned into his embrace, like a fish swimming into water, so relaxed. She held his hand, so large it almost completely enveloped her small hand. She didn’t want to talk, just turned his hand over, carefully counting the calluses on it.

“Little Eight came?”

“Yes,” Chu Qiao nodded. “You knew all along. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I always wanted to tell you, but never found the opportunity.”

Zhuge Yue smiled, somewhat helplessly saying, “Whether you believe it or not, this matter has always weighed on my mind, a burden on my heart. In those years, I wasn’t very good to her. A few times when she tried to escape, I even beat her. I was peculiar back then; after saving her, I kept her confined, just not wanting to let her go. When I was in a good mood, I would teach her to read, write, and practice martial arts. When I was in a bad mood, I would think about how she looked like you and give her the cold shoulder. In those years on the mountain, with no maids around, she always served me. Her current eccentric personality is probably my fault.”

“How long has she been with Zhao Song?”

“About two or three years,” Zhuge Yue recalled. “It’s said that Zhao Song is very fond of her. She once accidentally caused the death of one of Zhao Song’s favored concubines, but Zhao Song didn’t hold her accountable.”

Chu Qiao was silent for a long time before slowly saying, “She might have feelings for Zhao Song.”

Zhuge Yue smiled and said, “I don’t care who she has feelings for, as long as you’re not angry with me.”

“What about Zhao Song’s matter?”

“Don’t worry. If Zhao Yang wants to control everything, he still has to ask if we agree. But I think there’s nothing wrong with Zhao Song leaving the capital. This Zhenhuang City will sooner or later face great chaos. For him, leaving is much safer than staying.”

Chu Qiao had thought of this too. She frowned slightly, “Then what should we do?”

“I plan to send him to Qiang Hu. Firstly, it’s close to the northern territories, within Zhao Che’s sphere of influence. Secondly, it’s where the Qiang people gather, life is prosperous, and the coastal climate is mild.”

Chu Qiao nodded and said, “Let’s do as you say.”

“Then I’ll arrange it tomorrow. Do you want to see him off, meet him once?”

Chu Qiao thought for a long time but still shook her head: “He might not want to see me. Let’s not meddle.”

Zhuge Yue said, “But I think you should see him once.”

Chu Qiao raised her head, frowning at him. Zhuge Yue smiled freely and said, “Don’t look at me like that. I have no other intentions. I just don’t want you to be so self-reproachful all day. What happened back then can’t be blamed on you.”

Back then?

Chu Qiao’s vision gradually became misty. In her mind flashed the scene on Xiangzhi Mountain that day: the man standing tall, his clothes dancing in the wind, his black hair frosted with gray, an empty sleeve like rootless willow catkins.

Memories long sealed away, are now torn open. Though things and people had changed, only the red maples remained, layered as they were back then.