It was already deep into the night when she awoke. Two fire basins burned in the room, making the air very dry. Chu Qiao’s throat felt parched as she fumbled to get up and find water.
On the table, a small warming basket held a pot of milk as usual, produced by the snow deer raised at the Nanlan Temple—extremely precious. Chu Qiao poured a small cup and took a sip. Instantly, a fragrant taste filled her mouth, warming her from head to toe.
The room was dark. Tonight’s moon was enormous, hanging brightly in the sky, illuminating the Yingge Villa with a wash of white light. When she pushed open the window, the clear moonlight streamed in. She sat in a chair, resting her elbows and leaning on the windowsill, exhaling a long breath.
She had lost count of how many times she had gazed at this courtyard like this. Time passed so quickly. Often, she couldn’t distinguish whether everything before her eyes was a dream, or whether her memories of her previous life were just illusions. In the blink of an eye, she had already been in this world for nearly eight years. Eight years was enough to change many things, including a person’s thoughts, beliefs, hopes, and the goals and ideals they strived for.
Two wooden posts in the courtyard had been standing there for more than seven years. Even in this darkness, by the bright moonlight, one could see the shallow and deep sword marks on the posts. That was where she and Yan Xun had practiced martial arts all these years. In the early years, they didn’t dare practice during the day, only able to quietly take out their blades in the deep night—one person would stand watch while the other silently practiced the exquisite blade techniques Chu Qiao had drawn, combining the essence of various countries’ martial arts. Whenever a palace servant passed by, they would be frightened pale, and after the person left, they would exhale a long, cold breath in relief.
In the west warming room of the side wing, two sets of bedding were always prepared. At that time, they had no servants they could trust. Often, the two children would have to sleep in the same room holding their swords. When one slept, the other had to stay awake. The door bolt always had thin threads attached to their hands and feet—with the slightest disturbance, both would jump up from their beds with blades drawn.
The antique vase on the bookshelf in the study was always filled with various medicinal herbs for injuries, ready for unexpected needs. Although they rarely used them, they gradually developed such habits. Even their chopsticks and spoons were made of silver, and they raised many rabbits—each meal would be tested on the rabbits first, and only after a day or half would they dare eat it themselves. In those first few years, it seemed they never ate a hot meal fresh from the pot.
Whether in sweltering heat or bitter cold, they always wore a layer of soft armor beneath their undergarments. Whether eating or sleeping, they always kept their most handy weapon on their bodies. Time passed slowly this way. No matter how difficult, they still grew up shoulder to shoulder. Hope suddenly became less distant, the future no longer seemed hopeless, and in their hearts, a sense of eager anticipation gradually sprouted. Chu Qiao gently turned up the corners of her mouth. This, perhaps, was what they called a sense of belonging. After so many years, so many killings, so many hidden arrows, and conspiracies, she finally no longer considered herself an outsider wanting to escape or remain uninvolved.
In truth, from the moment she entered this imperial city, their fates had already been tightly connected.
Thinking of this, Chu Qiao involuntarily looked toward the northwestern sky. There lay the Huihui Mountains and Fire Thunder Plains that Yan Xun had described to her countless times, along with the Yan Bei grasslands they had always yearned for. In every cold night, in every humiliating predicament, in every hateful situation, these thoughts had supported them, helping them struggle through.
Taking a deep breath, she closed the window. The girl came to her desk, spread out a chart, and lowered her head to examine it carefully.
The door creaked open slowly. The man wore a long white cotton robe with a collar of fine camel wool. His clothing was neat, making him appear very handsome. Chu Qiao raised her head and smiled slightly, but didn’t get up. Sitting, she greeted him: “It’s so late, why aren’t you sleeping yet?”
“You’re not sleeping either, are you?”
Yan Xun carried a food box as he entered. Opening the lid, he said, “You’ve slept until midnight and missed dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”
As soon as he finished speaking, a loud rumbling sound came from her stomach. Chu Qiao rubbed her belly and smiled sheepishly: “It was fine until you mentioned it, now it’s starting to rebel.”
“Eat something first, see if it suits your taste.”
“Mm,” Chu Qiao put down her pen and paper, stood up to take the food box, and peeked inside. Immediately she exclaimed with delight: “Ah! Pear blossom dumplings!”
“Yes, knowing you love them, I had them prepared early. They’ve been frozen outside for several days, waiting for your return. They were just cooked.”
“Hehe,” the girl’s eyes narrowed into lines as she smiled: “Yan Xun, whenever I eat these, I feel like I’m home.”
After eating several dumplings in large bites, Yan Xun poured a cup of deer milk and quietly watched the girl eat. Outside the window, the moon was bright, its light pouring through the window onto both of them. The candle in the corner crackled, making everything seem peaceful and quiet.
“Ah Chu,” seeing that Chu Qiao had finished eating, Yan Xun handed her a white silk handkerchief, naturally wiping the oil from the corner of her mouth, and said in a deep voice: “Those stone merchants you bribed…”
“Yan Xun, just go ahead and do what needs to be done. You don’t need to tell me,” Chu Qiao cut him off before he could finish. “This was my careless oversight. I couldn’t be ruthless enough, but keeping such people around will eventually bring trouble. While we still don’t have the power to confront the Holy Gold Palace Council of Elders, leaving such a vulnerability is unwise. I brought them back hoping you would help me make this decision, so you don’t need to explain anything to me.”
Yan Xun smiled gently, his eyes suddenly growing soft: “Mm, I just didn’t want to hide it from you.”
“Yes,” the girl smiled and said: “We promised each other we would never hide anything. Concealment is the cause of all misunderstandings and barriers. No matter how well-intentioned, we cannot make that mistake.”
“Hehe,” Yan Xun laughed lightly: “Well then, now tell me everything about your journey to South Ji Mountain, every detail, big or small.”
“Alright,” Chu Qiao smiled, seated Yan Xun at the desk, and pointing at the chart, began to explain in detail.
The sky was misty, and everything was quiet. After taking a sip of tea, Chu Qiao made her final mark and pointed to the chart, saying: “As long as General Meng Tian remains the head of the Meng clan, we need not worry too much. From my perspective now, rather than worrying about the Holy Gold Palace and the Wei faction, we should worry about the Zhuge family.”
Yan Xun raised an eyebrow and said in a deep voice: “Didn’t Zhuge Huai just leave the capital? Zhuge Mu Qing has gradually withdrawn from the Council of Elders in recent years, handing all family affairs to Zhuge Huai. Will he intervene this time?”
“You’re underestimating that old fox Zhuge Mu Qing.” Chu Qiao shook her head: “In the empire’s three hundred years, the Council of Elders’ families have changed leadership many times. Among the founding meritorious officials, only the Zhuge family came with Emperor Pei Luo from the grasslands. This is the Zhuge family’s skill—they know how to balance power and never put themselves at the forefront, unlike the Mu He clan who repeatedly seek the limelight. As a result, when successive emperors try to reclaim power, they only target those in the most prominent positions, allowing the Zhuge clan to remain intact. Over these years, despite constant turmoil in the empire, Zhuge Mu Qing seemed moderate yet repeatedly avoided disaster. These cannot be attributed to luck alone.”
“Look here,” Chu Qiao pointed to the chart: “This is intelligence I’ve collected over the past few months. On the surface, the Zhuge family shows no movement, but in the southeast, there have been small-scale deployments of grain, river salt, and iron mines—not large but very frequent. Zhuge Xi was transferred from Song Water to Western Cold City to collect field taxes and hasn’t returned in two months. The official story is that Zhuge Xi is too clumsy and incompetent. But in my view, though Western Cold City is small, it’s a crucial point on our route back to Yan Bei—the hub of the Yao Water, Fu Su, and Red Water postal routes, making it extremely important strategically. We absolutely cannot underestimate it.”
“And look here, on the eighth of last month, the Council of Elders approved Zhuge Ran’s military commission. Instead of sending his son to guard the Zhuge family’s southeastern headquarters, Zhuge Mu Qing sent him to the southwestern camp as a general. The southwest borders the northwest, and the southwestern camp is located within the Ba Tu Ha family’s territory. If the Zhuge family wasn’t secretly colluding with the Ba Tu Ha family, how would old Ba Tu allow outsiders to set up camp at his doorstep? And most importantly, haven’t you noticed that Zhuge Yue will soon return?”
Yan Xun nodded, “I’ve been paying attention to this. Lady Yu’s people mentioned all these things to me a few days ago.”
“Oh?” Chu Qiao’s eyes immediately brightened. “What did Lady Yu say?”
“She said it’s still early. During the Summer King’s birthday, nobles from various countries will gather, making the situation complex and unpredictable. We can only adapt as things develop and respond to each move as it comes.”
Chu Qiao’s brow immediately furrowed. She raised her face to look at Yan Xun and slowly said: “Yan Xun, is this enough? I’m worried something will happen. Shouldn’t we prepare something in advance to be fully ready?”
“Ah Chu, there’s no such thing as a perfect plan in this world. As for preparation, haven’t we prepared enough these years?” Yan Xun looked into the girl’s bright eyes. He reached out, grasped Chu Qiao’s shoulders, and said in a deep voice: “Ah Chu, do you trust me?”
Chu Qiao nodded: “I trust you.”
“Then take a rest,” Yan Xun smiled gently: “Leave things to me. This South Ji Mountain journey has taken too much from you physically. You’re ill and cannot overexert yourself.”
“Yan Xun…”
“I don’t want to return to Yan Bei alone.” Yan Xun suddenly said in a low voice: “I have no relatives left. Ah Chu, you are the most important person to me.”
“Ah Chu, do you remember what you told me when I had a high fever with no medicine to treat it, the year we first entered the Holy Gold Palace?”
Chu Qiao was startled. Yan Xun’s face softened as he slowly said: “You told me to sleep peacefully, that you would stay awake until I woke up. In the end, I slept for four days, yet you were still forcing your eyes open to care for me. Ah Chu, now I can take care of you. So sleep peacefully—I will stay awake until the day when we can both close our eyes and sleep safely together.”
Chu Qiao lowered her head, gently pursing her lips. After a long while, she looked up and smiled faintly: “Good, then I won’t leave. I’ll stay by your side, waiting for you to take me away.”
Yan Xun nodded, his eyes bright, his smile like the thawing lake waters of March. The frustration of the past few months instantly vanished.
“Ah Chu, if we could enter together, we can certainly leave together. You must believe in me because, in this world, we can only trust each other now.”
At that time, winter snow had accumulated, the long night was peaceful, and the True Imperial Capital was calm. However, no one knew what fierce edges churned beneath the seemingly quiet undercurrents. Those strange and unpredictable countercurrents lay dormant underground, ready to boil up at any moment and submerge everything. People walking along the shore could only tread carefully, trying not to let their hems get wet from the murky waters. When one’s ability is not yet sufficient to confront the great tide, all they can do is stay away from the water.
After closing Chu Qiao’s door and watching the light inside extinguish, Yan Xun’s gaze immediately turned cold. He raised his head, looking toward the direction of Xia Hua Palace, with fierce gleams flashing in his eyes. His fingers slightly tensed, breaking a dry twig. Yan Xun tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and suddenly remembered a night many years ago. That day, nine-year-old Ah Chu, searching for medicine for his illness, was discovered by Wei Shu You, who had been secretly monitoring them. As a result, she was surrounded by more than twenty burly men who whipped and kicked her severely. To avoid giving others an excuse to deal with him, Ah Chu neither fled nor fought back. Her entire body was torn open, bleeding profusely. When he arrived, the child was barely breathing, yet still tightly clutching the stolen medicinal herbs.
From that day on, he silently vowed that he would never again let someone he valued leave his side, and in this life, there would never be a second person he valued.
Let what should come, come quickly. He had waited far too long—he could hardly wait any longer.
The man opened his eyes, his gaze clear. Tomorrow would be the day Zhuge Yue returned to court. Unseen for seven years—how had his old friend been?
The wound on his shoulder had long healed, but some hatred had taken root in his heart. Yan Xun smiled coldly, turned, and strode into the darkness, his form resolute, his clothes fluttering in the wind.
Tomorrow, after finishing the exam, I’ll take the train home. I’ll arrive the morning after tomorrow, so the next update will be in the evening, possibly a bit later.