Tie Ci looked at Zhao San, who had removed his mask across from her. Three years had passed, and the once somewhat green young man was now a youth with a resolute expression.

Zhao San’s gaze discreetly swept behind her, then he lowered his head.

Tie Ci thought of Chi Xue, who had automatically stayed in the palace and exceptionally refused to come along, and sighed inwardly.

“You wrote asking me to personally come see this place,” Tie Ci said. “I’ve come.”

Zhao San bowed and stepped aside to let them pass. “After two years of construction, it’s finally complete. My Emperor instructed that if you came to Mirror-Breaking City, you absolutely must not miss this.”

Tie Ci followed him inward with her hands behind her back, her fingers within her sleeves clenching slightly.

Di Yiwei, following a step behind, looked around, lowered her head to take a puff from the pipe in her arms, and said casually, “This place was supervised by Great Feng. Since that’s so, where is the master of this place?”

Zhao San was silent for a moment, then turned back and said, “My Emperor is still in Ru Prefecture.”

Di Yiwei raised an eyebrow. “What arrogance.”

Zhao San said softly, “Originally, before His Majesty ascended the throne, he was forced to make an oath before the Late Emperor.”

Di Yiwei had heard about this but hadn’t told Tie Ci. All officials who knew about this tried to avoid letting word reach the Emperor’s ears.

Tie Ci’s footsteps paused slightly, as if momentarily lost in thought, then she nodded and continued forward.

She didn’t ask what oath, showed no curiosity, like an outsider to whom this didn’t matter.

Zhao San wanted to say more, but seeing this, he abandoned the thought, sighed silently, and continued leading the way.

They now walked into an open area, still pitch black without any lights, only able to sense buildings on all sides.

Zhao San suddenly clapped his hands softly.

Lights gradually lit up.

A pagoda first came into view.

Seven stories high with flying eaves and upturned corners, countless bronze bells hanging from the eave corners. Below the pagoda was a grove of peach trees, and beneath the peach trees clusters of hydrangea flowers bloomed densely and magnificently.

In the gradually brilliant lamplight, it was hauntingly beautiful, like a colored painting with blurred tones.

At this time of year in the north, there couldn’t possibly be peach blossoms or hydrangeas. Tie Ci initially thought they were artificial flowers, wondering how realistically made they were. When she approached, she discovered a transparent canopy covering all the flower trees, so under the night lights they appeared color-stained and hazily graceful—actually a warm greenhouse made of precious silk gauze.

Tie Ci crouched down to touch the soil, which was indeed slightly warm.

They had actually replicated the iron-smelting operation beneath Cangsheng Pagoda from back then, creating this unseasonable flowering spectacle.

Originally, Tie Ci had deduced the underground scheme precisely because the flowers under Cangsheng Pagoda bloomed out of season. Now looking at these flowering trees, she couldn’t help feeling dazed.

Above her head, clear bell sounds continued. Tie Ci looked up, and in her trance the wind roared urgently. In the starry night sky, a purple, vigorous flower bloomed.

That was his dancing robes from back then, that was him falling from the pagoda top.

In her trance, Tie Ci seemed to see herself rushing forward several steps, raising both hands, channeling energy through both arms.

The next instant, that purple flower crashed into her embrace.

She saw herself charging wildly for several zhang, nearly crashing into the wall while holding him.

She saw herself lower her face, while the person in her arms gazed at her through the veil, eyes flowing, surrounded by the faint fragrance of sandalwood and patchouli.

And all around them, countless deep red sky lanterns slowly rose…

Tie Ci suddenly started and turned her head.

Sky lanterns were indeed rising on all sides, red lanterns with pale yellow light flickering, tassels floating, as if under the canopy of heaven, countless stars suddenly appeared.

And she stood in the middle of this sea of stars.

In the distance, faint joyful exclamations from people could be heard, probably seeing this lantern-releasing spectacle.

Tie Ci stood in the sea of sky lanterns, the light from all directions making her complexion warm and lustrous like warm jade.

She only remained silent, ten thousand bright lights reflected in her eyes.

Suddenly she seemed to sense something and turned sharply to look at Cangsheng Pagoda.

High atop the pagoda, originally pitch black, now a lantern was passing over the spire, its faint light sweeping across a patch of dim yellow, vaguely outlining a tall, slender black shadow.

Di Yiwei also saw it. Her eyes focused, military instinct immediately recognizing this angle as perfect for an ambush. She was about to warn Tie Ci when she saw His Imperial Majesty suddenly leap up.

Like a withered leaf lifted by wind, she instantly floated to the pagoda. With several turns, golden bells rang urgently, sky lanterns swayed aside reflecting several butterfly-like shadows in the light. Between the floating and sinking lights, that slender figure reached the pagoda’s peak in a flash.

She landed alone atop the spire.

With starlight above and below, sky lanterns floating and sinking, her robes scattered tenderly in the wind.

Heaven and earth were vast and empty; beneath the firmament, she alone remained.

In the wind seemed to echo a long sigh from that final moment.

Yet it was elusive and impossible to pursue, leaving one confused and bewildered, as if fallen into a dream.

The starlight and sky lanterns merged into one, drifting far away in the uniform blue sky.

Tie Ci stood at that narrow, high place, watching the myriad household lights, the flowing brilliance of streets. In the distance, people could faintly be heard making noise—some family’s children laughing and pointing at the illuminated Cangsheng Pagoda and drifting sky lanterns, then running away with joyful laughter and chase.

Tie Ci slowly gathered her sleeves.

Time flew like a galloping horse, stars scattered like rain dispersing. Only she remained in the original place.

…

In Yong Ping city, Jian Xi stayed in the military camp, facing a large pile of urgent memorials.

The Emperor had gone off to eat and play, leaving her to work overtime.

While the Emperor was on northern tour, before leaving she had already delegated authority for routine affairs to the cabinet. Decisions approved unanimously by the cabinet could be implemented directly. Difficult coordination issues would be sent by express courier. Major military and state affairs and personnel appointments would have summaries written by the cabinet before being submitted with recommendations.

After three years, the cabinet was very familiar with Tie Ci’s temperament and governing style, while Jian Xi was even more familiar. The mountain-high pile of memorials quickly diminished under her hands.

Approved memorials were on the left, forming a large pile.

Those held back and those that couldn’t be approved were on the right, about a dozen volumes.

Jian Xi’s work reached a stage conclusion. She stared at the right side, slight worry in her eyes.

Most of these memorials came from the Grand Tutor and ministers from her faction.

Some concerned personnel transfers, some impeached court officials, and more offered governing suggestions.

But regardless of type, none had been approved.

This had nothing to do with Jian Xi’s own views—this was naturally His Majesty’s intent, and the unspeakable treatment that the Grand Tutor’s faction’s memorials had frequently received this past year.

Just like Tie Ci’s northern tour this time—she had told her beforehand that regarding memorials submitted by the Grand Tutor’s side, they should all be held back until she returned from the northern tour.

From Jian Xi’s own perspective, she felt His Majesty was right to do this. The first two years were fine, but these past two years, students cultivated by the Grand Tutor’s Great Qian Academy had become increasingly radical. As more and more of them entered the court, this radical atmosphere gradually influenced and swept up many young officials. They criticized current affairs with passionate indignation, constantly denouncing the court’s and His Majesty’s faults in court discussions and deliberations, proposing various reform demands.

Jian Xi flipped through the memorials with rustling sounds, frowning at this group called the “Academy Faction” officials who had actually turned their attention to Grand Tutor He, saying he controlled the government, colluded with the cabinet, and harbored disloyal intentions. They said his background was impure, he had connections with Tang King remnants, and would surely be detrimental to the court in the future.

This was simply fabricated charges.

But Jian Xi felt what most opposed His Majesty was probably the Academy Faction’s frequent criticism of the military. These past two years, people constantly impeached Di Yiwei for being ambitious and wasteful of national resources. Now that Great Qian and Great Feng had made peace and warfare had ended, Yong Ping’s army continued expanding—Di Yiwei harbored disloyal intentions.

They also said border generals who had been stationed for many years should rotate with those in the capital.

While the capital was completely peaceful, when Shengdu Garrison had rebelled and been half slaughtered, since warfare harmed the nation, it shouldn’t be rebuilt. The enormous military expenses, especially the well-equipped capital forces, brought huge pressure to national finances. But in fact, Shengdu was deep inland and should be the safest region. Shengdu’s constant recruitment and military maintenance was wasteful, and nations that favored military force would inevitably decline.

But simultaneously, Great Qian Academy officials constantly demanded various support and subsidies from the court, requesting rare materials and precious mineral deposits. Whenever precious minerals were discovered anywhere, Academy Faction officials rushed fastest.

His Majesty always valued civil governance and had always spared no effort supporting Great Qian Academy and other academies. But if you gave to Great Qian Academy and not others, that wouldn’t work. Once everyone demanded without restraint, this itself became an enormous burden. So these past two years, His Majesty specially had the cabinet draft regulations, making detailed specifications for support policies for all academies and schools. Even so, because of Great Qian Academy’s specialized and unique subjects, the resources and support it received was still the most.

Flipping through that pile of held-back memorials, Jian Xi wondered why she felt the Academy Faction seemed increasingly anxious.

Governing a great nation was like cooking a small fish—one couldn’t be hasty or rash. This was a principle anyone with slight education should understand.

What were these people anxious about?

…

Great Qian Academy had planted many phoenix trees and banyan trees. In summer, the green shade was like a canopy, particularly cool.

It was afternoon nap time. The academy was filled with unceasing cicada sounds, which instead made the deep shade even more quiet.

The double bench under the banyan tree was heated by the sun—normally no one sat there as it would burn your bottom.

But now someone sat cross-legged on it, staring at something in their hands.

Yun Buci looked down at the small black device in her palm.

Green numbers still jumped at a fixed speed, decreasing bit by bit. Yun Buci stared at those numbers without blinking.

She asked the person beside her, “Those memorials—still no response?”

Senior Brother standing at her side shook his head upon hearing this.

Yun Buci lowered her head again.

The cicada overhead suddenly began crying with all its might.

Ten years of enduring darkness underground to break through soil and emerge.

From seeing the first ray of sunlight, it began singing until its last cry fell beneath the tree—only fourteen short days.

Ten years of darkness, fourteen days of song.

This was a cicada’s entire life.

How could it not sing day and night?

How could it not use all its strength to penetrate these two weeks of clamor?

How could it not treasure every precious minute and second?

After all, time belonging to oneself was so brief.

At the moment when the cicada’s cry was most intense and high-pitched—making listeners almost think this endless sound would sing itself to death—

The small black device suddenly made a soft “beep beep” sound, skipping past a number.

Then the green numbers turned bright red.

Continuing to decrease unhurriedly but irresistibly.

Yun Buci and Senior Brother, at this moment, both exhaled a long breath together.

…

Coming down from Cangsheng Pagoda, Tie Ci became somewhat silent.

Zhao San didn’t dare say much either, continuing to guide Tie Ci. Ahead was a brothel with “Fuchun” written in seal script.

Entering the brothel and turning left to a separate small building, through covered walkways, up to the second floor. Upstairs facing the entrance was a Central Province stone table set with Ru kiln celadon flower vases containing light pink peonies and crystal chrysanthemums. A fine-brush beauty painting hung on the west wall in graceful poses. Turning past a carved sandalwood silk screen, there was a step-bed with autumn-fragrant colored gauze curtains embroidered with insects, grass, and flowers. Opposite the bed was an exquisite dressing table of black lacquer inlaid with mother-of-pearl. On the dressing table, a rhombus-shaped bronze mirror was covered with bright red brocade, with carved plum blossom cosmetic boxes casually placed around it. The boxes were half-open, revealing hints of pearl and jade brilliance.

The top courtesan’s boudoir from back then—Tie Ci had lain on that step-bed.

Tie Ci didn’t let anyone follow her in, directly closing the door after entering.

She walked around the room in a circle, looking up at the beauty painting for a long time.

She had been in this room before, but then she was severely injured and had to match wits with certain people, plus encountering qi reversal attacking her meridians—she hadn’t noticed the room’s decorations at all.

Now examining it carefully, she couldn’t help making an assessment.

Nouveau riche taste.

The bedding on the step-bed seemed newly changed, emanating some warm scent belonging to sunshine.

Tie Ci slowly sat down, her hand stroking the silk bedding.

“…Then I’ll sleep with Young Master Mao! Young Master Mao, is that alright?”

“Sure!”

Tie Ci laughed softly, reaching under the pillow to feel around, indeed finding a wine jug.

Without looking at what wine it was, she knocked off the mud seal and tilted her head back to drink.

Moments later the jug was empty. She casually threw it, and with a crash the wine jug smashed through the door, hitting near the feet of Di Yiwei who was dozing outside, startling her awake as she quickly took a puff to calm her nerves.

Then she smelled extremely strong wine fragrance and looked down to see the shattered wine jug.

Di Yiwei turned in amazement to see Tie Ci walking out with steady steps and normal complexion, just particularly bright eyes. As she walked, she removed her cloak and was rolling up her sleeves.

Di Yiwei stared dumbfounded. “Why did you drink wine?”

And it seems she’s drunk?

His Imperial Majesty had never drunkenly drowned her sorrows even in those circumstances back then, yet after three years she inexplicably got herself drunk in this Mirror-Breaking City setting?

What had happened in that room back then?

Di Yiwei immediately had vivid associations about post-drinking shenanigans.

Tie Ci finished rolling up her sleeves and stood before Di Yiwei, looking at her with burning eyes.

Di Yiwei felt uncomfortable under her gaze, afraid she might have a drunken fit and beat her up, or have a drunken fit and carry her into the room to sleep with her.

You couldn’t say her imagination was excessive—after all, Commander Di was skilled at reading people and judging situations. Analyzing Tie Ci’s expression now, these were the only two possibilities.

Di Yiwei slowly backed away, firmly defending her safety and innocence.

But she saw Tie Ci standing in place, unhurriedly finishing rolling up her sleeves, then suddenly speaking, singing: “I send you away, thousands of li away…”

Di Yiwei: “…”

Who am I? Where am I? What happened?