It had snowed all night, and the entire Zhenhuang City was shrouded in a vast expanse of white. Early in the morning, when the doors were pushed open, the snow was a full foot deep, reaching the knees. The ground was covered with drifting white snow, and the white wind made it difficult to open one’s eyes. The soldiers guarding the city yawned as they opened the heavy city gates before the sun had risen. In the hazy light, they could vaguely see a blurred shadow. By the time they tried to widen their eyes for a clearer look, the civilians who had been waiting at the city gate to enter had already swarmed in.

A simple blue cloth carriage with ebony shafts rolled along, its wheels crunching through the pristine white snow on the ground, leaving deep tracks on the long street. The carriage looked plain and unadorned, following behind the line of commoners without complaint. The city gate guards naturally assumed this was not one of Zhenhuang City’s elite, and rightfully collected a considerable fee for the vehicle, huffing and puffing as they showed off their authority.

After waiting for more than an hour, the carriage finally left Zhenhuang City. The sun rose lazily, emitting a misty white light through the morning fog. The migratory birds had long since flown away, leaving only cold-resistant eagles that soared past the edge of the sky with long cries. Their wings were snow-white, and when they occasionally flew into the clouds, they disappeared, with only their long, clear cries echoing across the snowy plain.

When the carriage reached Xiema Ridge outside the city, a young woman was standing quietly on Yanguan Bridge. She wore a pristine white fur coat and dark blue riding boots. Her features were as beautiful as a painting. Having stood in the cold wind for a long time, her cheeks were flushed red, losing some of her usual sharpness and coldness, showing a rare gentleness. Seeing the carriage approach, she smiled and stepped forward, her horse obediently following behind. The accumulated snow on the ground made a crunching sound under her feet.

The driver was also a young man, no more than sixteen or seventeen years old. Seeing her, he seemed somewhat surprised and turned back to say something to the person inside the carriage. A thin hand reached out, slightly lifting the carriage curtain, revealing the man’s handsome eyes and tightly furrowed brows.

“Why did you come?” Zhao Song’s voice no longer had the clarity and brightness of his youth, having become somewhat deeper. For so many years, it had been like a still pond, without the slightest ripple.

But that didn’t matter, because when she first met him, he was already like this—calm, gentle, showing no interest in anything. And so, he had gradually withdrawn from Great Xia’s political stage, from being an illustrious legitimate prince to today’s desolate figure, so pathetic that not a single person came to see him off when he was banished.

Perhaps, except for her, no one in the entire imperial city would remember him anymore.

Little Eight smiled quietly, her lips still habitually carrying a hint of mockery. She stepped forward and naturally handed the reins to the young man on the carriage, saying, “A’Jiang, go harness the horses.”

Zhao Song frowned slightly and said in a deep voice, “What are you doing?”

Little Eight raised her eyebrows and smiled at him, her eyes clear, saying very naturally, “Of course I’m going with you.”

Zhao Song still frowned, his face slightly gloomy, showing rare impatience: “Wuxin, don’t be foolish.”

Little Eight was now called Wuxin, “no heart,” meaning one without a heart.

In her life, she had countless different names. She no longer remembered her days in the Jing family when she was small. The only relatives she remembered were Zhi Xiang and Lin Xi because she was young and not the child of the Jing family’s legitimate wife. She was even forgotten by her equally young brothers and sisters, who only called her by her rank in the order of those who escaped death. Like the other children, she was called Little Seven, Little Eight, and Little Nine, like livestock, just cold numbers, not even as worthy as a thoroughbred warhorse.

Later, she was rescued by Zhuge Yue and lived with him under Master Wolong for nearly seven years. During those years, she also had a name, but it was one Zhuge Yue had given her to conceal her identity from those around them. The purpose was none other than to protect the sister who lived in the Saint Golden Palace.

When she heard the news of Zhuge Yue’s death, she cried. This was the most unforgivable thing she had done in all these years.

She cried for a man who had killed her brothers and sisters and imprisoned her for more than ten years.

She still clearly remembered that morning. The terrible news reached the Zhuge Mansion, and Moon Thirteen rushed into the gates of Qingshan Academy covered in dust, followed immediately by servants from the main courtyard. Before they could react, they had thoroughly searched the entire Qingshan Academy. Then came officials from the Shanglü Court, constables from the Great Temple Office, and inspectors from the Elder Council. Various charges were successively brought against the man who had always been brilliant and proud: dereliction of duty, collaborating with the enemy, delaying military intelligence, corrupting military discipline, causing major military failures, and even treason.

The Qingshan Academy, which once had a transcendent status in the entire Zhuge Mansion, instantly fell to ruins, cast into a bottomless abyss. The Moon Guards ran in all directions, imploring Zhuge Yue’s former aristocratic friends, brothers, and sisters to clear his name, to send troops to Yan Bei, and to continue searching for their young master, even if only to find his corpse. However, facing the defeat in war and the nationwide criticism and opposition, except for the Seventh Prince Zhao Che, who also lost power because of this campaign, no one was willing to extend a helping hand. Even the young master of the Wei clan, Wei Shuye, hung a “No Visitors” sign and no longer saw these old subordinates loyal to Zhuge Yue.

Finally, even Zhao Che was banished to the northern territories. Yan Bei returned Zhuge Yue’s body, and although a large ransom was paid, the Zhuge clan expelled him from the family. Zhuge Muqing personally carried out the Elder Council’s judgment at the city gate, whipping his own son’s body to show his determination to sever ties with his son. Even after death, Zhuge Yue could not enter the ancestral temple and was discarded in a potter’s field, cursed by countless people, and his name removed from military records. And they, the former female slaves of Qingshan Academy, were driven out of the mansion, and after several betrayals, finally fell into prostitution.

Even after so much time had passed, every night, she could still recall those initial days as a prostitute. Because of her resistance, the brothel owner found two strong men to break her in. In that dilapidated woodshed, the two men grinned sinisterly as they tried to pull off her pants. They were so close to her that she could see their yellowed teeth and smell the alcohol on their breath. They were so strong, their palms covered with dark calluses. As soon as they entered the room, they impatiently undid their trousers, letting them hang around their ankles, allowing their ugliness to be exposed.

All struggles and pleas for help were useless. Although she had learned riding and martial arts from Zhuge Yue, the few fancy but ineffective moves she had learned in a state of discontent were useless under the influence of drugs. She could only watch numbly as they tore her clothes to pieces, watched as their faces came closer and closer. Next door was Lan’er from Qingshan Academy, and next to her was Zhishi, the daughter of Zhuge Yue’s wet nurse. All the cries and sinister laughter echoed in her ears. She thought that after experiencing so many changes, she had become numb and strong enough. She thought she had enough courage and integrity not to beg these shameless scum. But at the moment when her lower body was penetrated, when the pain swept through her entire body, when tears of humiliation spilled from her eyes, she still, like other servants from Qingshan Academy, cried out that man’s name.

She cried for Zhuge Yue to save her. She frantically cursed those two men, saying the young master would avenge her, saying they would all die miserably.

However, those men just laughed indifferently, then cruelly told her that Zhuge Yue had long been dead, died in Yan Bei, and now his corpse had filled the bellies of hunting dogs.

At that moment, she truly cried in despair. She suddenly recalled many past events: him teaching her to write, teaching her to ride, teaching her to analyze military tactics, teaching her martial arts for self-defense. Sometimes he would just call her to sit beside him, not asking her to do anything. No matter how much she mocked and ridiculed him, he ignored it all, just quietly drinking, occasionally glaring at her impatiently.

He had killed Lin Xi, caused Little Seven’s death, imprisoned her for ten years, beaten and scolded her. She had an irreconcilable blood feud with him. But he had never humiliated her like this. He had saved her from the brink of death several times, giving her a place to live. Despite her awkward status, despite knowing who all this should have belonged to, he was indeed protecting her. In her youngest years, in these troubled times, when she was still a child with nothing, he protected her for so many, many years.

In the moment of suffering the most humiliating experience of her life, she instinctively called his name, pathetically hoping he would come to save her.

But ultimately, he couldn’t. He was dead, died for her sister in the ice and snow of Yan Bei, and died under the iron hooves of the Yan Bei army.

That night, she cried desperately, like a young beast that had lost its mother wolf, lying on the dirty floor, her voice broken like a bellows, chilling to hear.

But it was only one night. After that night, unlike Zhishi, who resolutely committed suicide, unlike Lan’er, who died of depression, she seemed to suddenly become enlightened. She began to learn music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, learned how to seduce men, and learned all the knowledge and skills required in this place. Since she could no longer count on others, she could only rely on herself. Since she was destined to live in this place for life, she had to find ways to make her life better. Since she had to do it, she would be the most popular girl.

So, two months later, she designed a trap for the two strong men who had violated her. She watched them die before her eyes, feeling indescribable pleasure and frenzy.

She thought her life would continue like this, like a puddle of foul water, continuing to be dirty, dirty, and stinking. But then, she saw him.

The day she met Zhao Song, she was accompanying a rich merchant on a lake tour. That fifty-something obese man was a born exhibitionist. On the flower boat, in front of everyone, he tore her clothes. In her panic, she accidentally scratched his face. In his great anger, he threw her into the lake on the spot.

May in Zhenhuang was still very cold, with the lake’s surface just thawed, and the water extremely cold. Wearing heavy clothes, her hands and feet grew cold. She didn’t know how to swim and could only splash around a few times before allowing herself to sink bit by bit. The sunlight gradually moved away from her, the world becoming dim and desolate. She couldn’t see the sky or clouds. Cold water surged from all directions. Her breathing became slower and slower. At the moment of approaching death, she suddenly wondered if Zhuge Yue felt the same way when he died—everything around was so cold, with only a bit of warmth in the heart. But now, even that bit of warmth was gradually dissipating.

However, just as she was about to die, someone held her waist. She was pulled up, all the way up. After who knows how long, she suddenly broke the surface. The sun shone brightly on her. She coughed heavily, the excitement of resurrection making her want to cry with joy. Zhao Song stood beside her, talking to his drenched young attendant. Seeing her look over, he just turned his head, his eyes very calm as he looked at her, seeming somewhat surprised. He frowned slightly, then smiled in astonishment and said, “What a coincidence, you look very similar to an acquaintance of mine.”

He was smiling when he said it, but she distinctly felt the desolation and grief in his tone, like a wild goose unable to fly south in winter due to illness. His eyes were calm, but it was as if they had grown patches of desolate wild grass, cool and heart-wrenching.

She was thus taken away by him. Despite being a fallen prince, he was still royal kin. She had a clean identity, had the freedom she had yearned for over a decade, but in the end, she still voluntarily entered the slave registry of the prince’s mansion. When he found out, he didn’t stop her, just gave her a faint look and respected her choice.

In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed.

Perhaps she couldn’t clearly define her feelings for Zhuge Yue. That sentiment, accumulated over years, under the friction of hatred and dependence, had become deformed and broken, too complex for her to understand or want to understand. But she knew very clearly her feelings for Zhao Song. It wasn’t about repaying kindness or gratitude. She simply wanted to be with him, wanted his eyes to see her, wanted his heart to remember her. But even this small wish couldn’t be fulfilled.

In her life, she had loved two men, but both of these men loved another woman, and that woman was the sister who had shown her great kindness.

Fate was ridiculous.

Therefore, over the long years, she had so many complex emotions towards that figure in her memory who was always strong and brave, always with a resilient face. So much so that when she saw her, she almost couldn’t control her rationality.

But none of that mattered anymore. Everything had passed. She was about to leave with him, and everything else had disappeared like smoke.

What did status disparity matter? What did being a fallen flower matter? What did it matter that his heart belonged to someone else? She just wanted to follow him. Anyone or anything could stop her, but they couldn’t extinguish her determination to strive for it.

She raised her head, for the first time in four years appearing before him in women’s clothes, for the first time facing this noble but fallen prince with carefully applied makeup. Her eyes were so bright, her features delicate and beautiful. She grinned, shining in the sunlight, saying with a smile, “I’m not being foolish. I just want to follow you.”

Zhao Song coldly refused: “What would you follow me for? Go back quickly.”

Little Eight didn’t even look at him, directly handed him a knife, and said, “Kill me with one stroke, then.”

Zhao Song frowned and said to his attendant, “A’Jiang, drive her off the carriage.”

“Whatever,” Little Eight turned around frankly, waving the document in her hand, her voice very cheerful: “Anyway, I already have a complete set of past documents. I already have legal travel permits. I am no longer a slave with restricted movement. I have money, horses, and provisions. You can drive me away, but you can’t stop me from following behind. I’ll follow you to Qiang Hu. If you don’t want me, I’ll find a place to stay around you. You may be a prince of Great Xia, but you can’t stop a law-abiding little commoner from traveling, can you?”

She looked at him very calmly, her expression relaxed, without a hint of awkwardness or unease, nor any panic or helplessness. She just looked up at him, her eyes clear, her small chin slightly raised, with a bit of stubbornness and a bit of defiance, like a sulking child, also like a willful gambler.

Zhao Song suddenly felt a pang of heartache. He looked at her, and for the first time in many years, he seemed to have dispelled that person’s shadow and truly saw this equally stubborn and persistent girl. His voice was a bit low, like autumn wind sweeping through withered leaves, carrying a faint sense of desolation and decay, and he said quietly, “Do you even know that once we leave, I will no longer be the former prince of Great Xia?”

Little Eight’s heart seemed suddenly cut by a knife, aching bit by bit. She looked at Zhao Song’s desolate face, and it seemed there was a fire burning fiercely in her chest. But she didn’t show it, just snorted coldly and indifferently, saying, “What does it matter to me who you are? If you don’t let me follow, fine, I’ll leave now. At worst, I’ll follow behind on my own.”

With that, she turned to jump off the carriage.

At this moment, a slender hand suddenly grabbed her delicate, fair wrist. The person’s fingernails were distinct, his fingers long and powerful, somewhat pale, with calluses covering the palm. Though it was his left hand, it was unusually dexterous.

“Forget it.”

A deep voice quietly sounded. Zhao Song waved his hand helplessly: “A’Jiang, let’s go.”

A’Jiang was immediately stunned, stuttering for a long time. Little Eight stepped forward and rapped him on the forehead, lightly scolding, “Hurry up! Are you waiting for your master to change his mind and drive me away?”

A’Jiang immediately grinned foolishly, raised his whip, and lashed the horse. The carriage moved slowly, the morning sunlight golden, like a huge round disc high in the sky.

Out of Zhenhuang City, away from the Great Xia country. From now on, he was no longer Great Xia’s legitimate prince, and she was no longer the once-famous courtesan of the capital. Dust to dust, earth to earth. Thank heaven for giving them a chance to start anew before the storm came.

Among a dense poplar forest, a woman wearing a dark blue cape rode out on horseback. He Xiao stood not far behind her. A caravan of armed escorts passed by, raising a cloud of dust on the post road, but she seemed not to notice, still quietly watching the departing carriage, silent for a long time.

Goodbye, her friend. Goodbye, her sister. Goodbye, to the two people she had wronged the most in her life.

The sun gradually rose, the north wind still savagely whirling. Chu Qiao’s gaze returned from the distance, and she silently raised her head.

This was Great Xia, the taste of Great Xia, the wind of Great Xia, the past of Great Xia, and the old acquaintances of Great Xia. Those who had left had already gone, while those who remained had to continue facing the life ahead. Whether in adversity or difficulty, whether in hardship or setbacks, each of them had responsibilities they needed to shoulder, and people they needed to wait for and protect.

She turned around, facing the imposing thick walls in the distance. There were countless pavilions and waterside retreats, countless palaces and golden halls, countless powers and ambitions, and countless plots and traps.

Once upon a time, she had so detested everything here, but now, she willingly walked into this huge cage, just as her sister had voluntarily become a slave. These were the paths they had chosen for themselves. That was her battlefield, but she was not alone, because, in the center of that cage, someone was waiting for her.

Even if the world changed completely, they would remain faithful until death.

“Hya!”

Chu Qiao shouted coldly, spurring her horse to gallop. The biting wind blew past her ears, all turning into smoke and clouds, silently disappearing.