The April wind already carried hints of summer warmth, weaving densely around people’s shoulders and backs, creating a comforting warmth on the skin.

Yet the heart remained cold.

Returning from Sacred Biluo Mountain, traveling with her back turned the entire way, leaving behind the majestic sacred mountain where she had grown up, leaving behind the Red River ice circles and vast snow, and that person within the snow. In her trance, she kept hearing the thunderous sound of Qianjue Sect’s great gates closing, reverberating through the clouds in waves, so desolate and distant as it scattered in her heart.

Some days, once past, could never be recovered; some people, once departed, would never return.

Qin Chang Ge raised her head, gazing at the gates of Yingdu ahead. Last autumn night, at this very spot where she now stood, three people had broken camp with their great army in the night. Just as they were about to turn their horses around, all three had looked back toward the palace.

That gaze cast toward the palace depths, toward the little prince in Guantang Hall – no one could have known then that it would be their final glimpse.

When departing, three rode together; returning, she rode alone holding the reins.

Just as she had long known fate was harsh, she had never imagined it would be this harsh.

Qin Chang Ge sat upright on her horse, her posture straight, yet her brows had already been touched by autumn frost-like weathering.

Horse hooves clattered through Dong’an, West Prefecture, Tianqu, Jade Terrace, and Plank Bridge.

In those days, on Dong’an Street, a four-year-old child had cannonballed toward the reigning emperor for his snacks, only to be lifted laughingly by that red-clothed, bewitching figure.

In those days, on West Prefecture Street, a group of hangers-on had laughed and mocked, earning her literary humiliation in return. That night outside the small courtyard, that man had invited her to Blue Wave Pavilion, his face like an immortal’s under the moon, more radiant than moonlight itself.

In those days, in the small western courtyard, they had celebrated a unique birthday – the naked Prince Liang cake had made the era’s most romantic figures all gape, then they had all taken knives and forks to divide up Prince Xiao who was urinating on heaven. She still remembered Su Xuan holding a piece of cake while squatting in a tree, beaming with joy; Xiao Jue frowning and covering his nose as he stared at the stinky tofu while perched on the wall; Chu Feihuan smiling elegantly as he gently wiped his lips; Qi Fan grinning as he sowed discord; and Rong Xiaotian focused solely on eating cake.

Yu Zixi, Xiao Chen, Su Xuan, Xiao Jue, Chu Feihuan, Qi Fan, Rong Xiaotian.

Those who left had left, those who departed had departed, the frozen were frozen, the sleeping slept. Time had been crushed by fate into a pale sheet of paper, writing stroke by stroke the prophecies already destined for that generation’s peerless figures.

Those stunning gazes, brilliant clashes of wit, mocking collisions, tender vigils – all had transformed into the eternal mist and deep snow atop Sacred Biluo Mountain, silently wandering at the distant horizon. Perhaps one could sense them when raising one’s eyes, but they could never be touched.

How much wind and rain had blown away, leaving only a great dream without a trace.

Qin Chang Ge slowly urged her horse forward, past the plaza, Jade Belt Bridge, into the imperial city.

This route had long been sealed off. Three thousand Imperial Guards flanked Qin Chang Ge, while another three thousand flowed like a steel torrent from Celestial Street to outside the imperial city, with posts every three steps and sentries every five – almost the ceremonial guard of an emperor’s procession.

The bustling, watching commoners were held back behind those bright spears and halberds, excitedly and admiringly gazing toward the street center from afar.

The great army had returned victorious, the Divine Empress had come home. The people of Xiliang bathed in joy and glory, unaware of the perpetual desolation deep within that distant, noble woman who stood at the pinnacle of the world after her struggle through blood and fire.

They saw her as so perfect; she saw herself as riddled with holes.

Qin Chang Ge slowly surveyed from horseback, feeling rather helpless. She had wanted to enter the city quietly, but her son had already commanded people to wait at the city gates for a long time. This child always liked such grand displays.

Having traveled so urgently, when she reached the towering palace gates, Qin Chang Ge instead hesitantly slowed her pace. The so-called anxiety of gain and loss, the so-called timidity of approaching home – at the moment of nearing her most yearned-for hope, she began to fear.

Living an iron-blooded life, experiencing so many partings and losses, in the end she could only press all pain deep in her heart, forcing herself in bloody anguish not to think, not to seek, not to suffer, just to accept. Thus she barely managed to accept, forcing herself to live on coldly and with difficulty. Perhaps continuing to live this way would be possible, but if – if she were given hope again only to have that hope extinguished, she didn’t know if that would be the final straw that broke the camel’s back, causing her to collapse forever, never again finding strength to rise.

Sighing softly, Qin Chang Ge looked up. Ahead, the heavy crimson palace gates were slowly opening. A ray of sunlight shot down from the flying eaves of a corner tower, then was slowly drawn open by those light and shadows, pulling out a long strip like a pale scroll, revealing tiny dust motes dancing in the air.

Revealing the small figure standing behind the gates at the center.

The high and broad palace gates, the high and broad gateway – that small child stood at the very center, so small that even his shadow was just a tiny cluster, looking like a frail little cat in the sunlight.

Yet those many people bowed behind his small shadow, not daring to let their own shadows cover his.

Yet he stood at the center of the broad palace gates, at the center point of the central axis that ran straight through Yingdu, fitting so perfectly that one felt he was born to stand here, facing his vast mountains and rivers, issuing voices that all under heaven would focus intently to hear.

Little Prince Xiao, before the slowly opening palace gates, raised his head.

Smiling, with tears swirling chaotically in his eyes, smiling.

Qin Chang Ge gazed deeply at her child from horseback.

From last autumn to this spring, she had abandoned him once again, unable to bring back those he valued, those he treasured who had gone never to return.

She had even let him face all dangers alone, choosing to turn away from him when Yu Zixi seized court and held him hostage. Through five days and nights of perilous torment, she didn’t know how that child had endured.

She had even passed by Yingdu’s palace gates without entering, ruthlessly letting that small child lead the court officials out of the palace alone to greet her, alone welcome back his relatives’ coffins, alone face the world’s cruelest final parting. When he wept deep in the night, there was no one to gently stroke his back for comfort, no one to embrace him, to give his small, aching heart a final bit of familial warmth.

Among all mothers in the world, none could be more cruel.

She should have had no face to meet him; he should have angrily ignored her.

Yet neither happened.

They simply faced each other openly across the palace gates, then smiled.

A mother and son who knew their identities clearly, imperial mother and son who always knew what to choose when.

Standing at the world’s pinnacle, having witnessed all manner of changing circumstances, they could no longer indulge in ordinary human emotions – those were luxuries of mortal life and smoke, not theirs.

Bitter, yet helpless.

Qin Chang Ge dismounted, ignoring the ministers who knelt with three calls of acclaim, walking straight toward her child.

And from afar, Baozi had already extended his small hand, waiting to take hers.

The moment he touched Qin Chang Ge’s palm, he suddenly drew in a sharp breath.

Qin Chang Ge smiled down at him, saying gently, “Rong’er, what did you see?”

Baozi turned his head, looking deeply into Qin Chang Ge’s eyes, then suddenly said quietly, “No matter what I saw, you still have me.”

“Yes, I still have you.” Qin Chang Ge’s heart sank, but her face maintained its smile. Gently breaking free from his grasp, she said, “Rong’er, sometimes not knowing is happier than knowing. I hope you use this special ability of yours as little as possible.”

“I know.” Baozi patted his chest. “My heart shouldn’t be stuffed full of other people’s stories. At the very least, I need to leave some space for my own story in the future. But I don’t want such heavy pain – I want my story to always be beautiful and exciting.”

He turned to look at Qin Chang Ge, his dark eyes sparkling brilliantly.

“Do you believe me or not?”

Qin Chang Ge smiled, stroking her beloved son’s hair that gleamed like satin.

“I believe you.”

The long paulownia corridor was swept by spring breezes, with willow branches from all sides occasionally drifting over the railings to brush against them, like beautiful hands inviting them to appreciate the spring scenery together. But the hurrying figures paid no attention. Baozi pulled Qin Chang Ge through flowers and leaves, their footsteps on the bright paulownia flooring creating pleasant echoes.

At the side hall entrance of Longzhang Palace, Baozi suddenly released her hand, slowed his pace, and smiled mysteriously as he pushed Qin Chang Ge forward.

Qin Chang Ge’s fingers touched the door panels, hearing the melodious sound of wind moving the golden hooks of the curtains. Somehow her palms were suddenly full of sweat.

She gently pushed the door.

“Creak.”

Dark shadows were pushed away, golden sunlight spread across the floor, that sunlight instantly traveling far into the distance, reaching behind layer upon layer of curtains, revealing the vague silhouette of a figure on the couch behind the curtains.

Qin Chang Ge’s wildly beating heart suddenly calmed when she saw that silhouette.

She even remembered to reach back and close the hall door, then walked over with light steps.

Her fingers paused on the soft curtains, her long lashes closed once, twice, then without further hesitation, she lifted them.

Behind the curtains.

That man lay quietly with closed eyes, his face pale. At first glance, he looked no different from the corpse in Su Xuan’s arms before the tent in last year’s heavy snow.

But Qin Chang Ge’s sharp eyes caught the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Su Xuan… didn’t lie to me…

Suddenly releasing a great breath, Qin Chang Ge’s legs went weak and she couldn’t stand steady, stumbling and falling to rest against Xiao Jue’s shoulder.

Gently grasping Xiao Jue’s arm, Qin Chang Ge steadily gazed at his peacefully sleeping face. After a long while, she bloomed with a smile, but before the smile faded, tears were already streaming down.

Those crystalline tears fell straight down from her snow-white cheeks without pause, constantly dropping into the long-piled brocade carpet below, silently absorbed. One could only see the light red carpet beneath gradually turning deep red, and that deep red area continuously expanding.

These months of tears soaked this tumultuous, painful period of time.

Her heart, shattered into pieces when she lifted the tent curtain in last year’s wind and snow, was finally gathered up at this moment and barely pieced back together.

The tightly closed hall doors couldn’t block the brilliant sunlight. Those golden beams of light drilled in through various window lattice cracks, moving like spotlights in the dark hall, bit by bit piecing together that woman’s slender figure, outlining her continuously trembling delicate shoulders.

No one knew of this moment’s tears of extreme joy beside the long couch. No one knew that the woman standing at the pinnacle, called the Divine Empress, could actually weep so freely and joyfully in her lifetime. Just as no one knew that all those various killing techniques had always only been necessary choices made to protect herself and others. Before love, beneath the Divine Empress’s halo, Qin Chang Ge had always been as ordinary as the most common woman.

Smiling through tears, with smile shadows swaying in the tearlight, Qin Chang Ge gently caressed Xiao Jue’s face… He had grown much thinner. This sleep had lasted several months – medically speaking, he was close to being in a vegetative state. But what did that matter? As long as he was alive, there was ultimately hope.

Sunlight passed through her snow-white, nearly transparent fingers that were moving extremely gently, inch by inch, as if trying to trace her beloved’s features at her fingertips. That face so familiar she could see it clearly with her eyes closed, that face she had only not seen for several months, now seemed as if separated by a lifetime, making her reluctant to stop looking.

Indeed, wasn’t it separated by a lifetime? At the threshold between life and death, she had nearly lost him completely.

What a torment to the heart love was – like a magnificent yet peril-filled wound.

She had once told herself:

First, it’s best not to meet, so we cannot fall in love; second, it’s best not to know each other, so we cannot yearn for each other; third, it’s best not to accompany each other, so we cannot owe each other; fourth, it’s best not to cherish each other, so we cannot remember each other.

Yet in worldly matters, there was no “best” – only destiny.

Then she would accept it.

Even if the process of acceptance was so tumultuous, so desolate, so full of grinding torment, so soaked in blood and tears.

It was still worth having loved once.

Qin Chang Ge smiled as she caressed all of Xiao Jue’s face, finally gently lowering her own face.

Sunlight spread behind her like a giant lotus, magnificently blooming in the vast Longzhang Palace. Her black hair flowing across the couch like silk also bloomed like lotus petals.

Her crimson lips gently approached his slightly dry lips.

The taste where lip met lip was slightly cool, slightly sweet, and slightly astringent – fragrant and rich sweetness mixed with the bitterness of medicinal scent, like this journey of life lost and found again.

Lingering… tender… those warm touches… those electric sparks bursting when yin and yang met… tracing gorgeous arcs throughout the space, brilliantly filling the world stroke by stroke.

Qin Chang Ge smiled with closed eyes, letting tears flow freely, flowing over their intertwined lashes, over their touching cheeks, over their joined lips and teeth, flowing into the depths of her heart, sweet yet slightly salty.

Even if you will sleep forever, I rejoice in the warmth I truly feel at this moment. Never have I been so infinitely grateful to heaven as now.

Heaven has taken away everything I possessed again and again, yet in the end took pity on my loneliness and returned you to me. This is already the greatest fortune of my life – I am actually trembling with trepidation, not daring to hope for more.

As long as you are here, all is well.

Those tears of joy dripped into the silent space. Qin Chang Ge lay against Xiao Jue’s chest, suddenly feeling his heart seemed to beat more vigorously and powerfully than before.

And in her palm, his slightly cool fingers suddenly moved slightly.

Qin Chang Ge turned around abruptly.

Because the movement was too hasty, moisture flew from her cheeks.

A single tear splashed onto his hand – the hand that had slept motionless for months, had never stirred, yet now slowly flexed as if wanting to rise and wipe away his beloved woman’s tears.