“You’ll delay his examination,” Xiao Jue suppressed his anger repeatedly, staring at Yu Zixi and saying slowly: “Scholars aren’t easy—ten years of cold study, hanging beam and piercing thigh. How can you bear to ruin it all? Who you fancy is your business, but this masculine preference—such improper conduct—you actually negotiate with me about it, wanting me to grant you a catamite? Where does this place Western Liang’s dignified national standing? Where does this place me as lord of nine provinces? Ridiculous! Return home and reflect!”

Qin Chang Ge stared wide-eyed at Xiao Jue, nearly applauding in admiration. This fellow had developed skills—watertight and dignified, responding calmly with proper measure. More remarkably, the somewhat violent temper she remembered had also become controlled and appropriate, giving the fox no opening or advantage. The profession of emperor, which most trained one’s mind and political acumen, truly wasn’t held in vain.

She couldn’t applaud, but the Crown Prince could fully express his sincere appreciation.

“Excellent words!” Xiao Baozi clapped vigorously. Having heard this phrase most often from old man Jia Duan’s lessons recently, he borrowed it perfectly for the occasion, then seriously waved at Qin Chang Ge: “This… gentleman, please go take your examination.”

“This student thanks His Majesty and Crown Prince for your great kindness!” Qin Chang Ge immediately responded, very efficiently pulling her clothes from Yu Zixi’s hands, shouldering her basket and running off. Yu Zixi raised his eyebrows, glancing at her thoughtfully, then at Xiao Jue who was staring at him with stern expression. He smiled charmingly: “This minister also… thanks Your Majesty for your great kindness.” With that, he bowed and swayed away gracefully.

The storm thus dissolved into nothing. As Qin Chang Ge ran toward the Tribute Hall gates, she simultaneously gestured for Phoenix Alliance guards to abort their plan—Xiao Jue’s arrival was beyond her expectations. She’d originally planned to have subordinates pretend to burn Yu Zixi’s ever-present lamp to distract him—everyone knew that lamp was Yu Zixi’s lifeline, only placed in the duty room during court sessions but carried everywhere else. Forget it… provoking this fox to explode wouldn’t work.

Three examination sessions on the sixth, ninth, and twelfth days, each lasting three days. In the tiny examination cell for nine days without stepping out, Qin Chang Ge spent most time sleeping and counting fingers, using remaining time for policy essays, treatises, and poetry. After the final day’s completion, she emerged carrying her small basket. Sunlight was brilliantly intense, almost blazing. Across the street, white jade trees bloomed with intoxicating fragrance, flowers large as jade plates, displaying clean, compelling beauty. Qin Chang Ge closed her eyes against the sunlight, then lowered her gaze to discover the black-clothed man leaning against the tree.

Blinking, Qin Chang Ge stopped and looked carefully again.

Opposite her, a tall man in ordinary black clothing met her gaze somewhat sheepishly. His sharp, long eyebrows framed determined eyes, though his face was slightly flushed. Pursing her lips, Qin Chang Ge glanced at her male attire, then toward the city’s west. She’d recently moved there to the middle-class residential area. A small courtyard with three sections housed three distant brothers from the countryside who’d come to the capital seeking relatives after floods back home. The innermost section housed a sick brother, the second housed the eldest brother and his wife, the first section and side rooms housed two unmarried brothers. The sick one was naturally Chu Feihuan; the eldest couple were Qi Fan and a Phoenix Alliance female disciple in fake marriage; the other two were Rong Xiaotian and Qin Chang Ge. Everyone had changed appearances and lived ordinary lives with relish.

Qin Chang Ge’s meaning was: our identities are inconvenient now—let’s go home.

Unexpectedly, Xiao Jue across from her didn’t move, his gaze drifting toward the city gates.

Uh… leave the city?

For what?

Her gaze shifted further—a black horse with obviously excellent but unremarkable stamina stood nearby, snorting and leisurely pawing the ground.

Opposite her, Xiao Jue mouthed words at her puzzled look.

“Reward you—go out for a stroll.”

Frowning at His Majesty’s silent but stubborn expression, then smiling helplessly, Qin Chang Ge lightly shook her head and gestured “you first.”

Xiao Jue’s eyes lit up brilliantly like the morning star as he immediately turned to lead the horse.

People flowed through the streets, coming and going hurriedly. No one noticed two “men” walking one behind the other with the same pace and destination, harboring different moods and memories, slowly proceeding forward.

The afternoon breeze was fresh and clean, blowing away the black hair of the man ahead. Qin Chang Ge’s gaze grew slightly distant and soft at this moment.

In a trance, time reversed—a sixteen-year-old youth turning back angrily, eyes bright and clear.

Xiao Jue, we once seemed to walk this way toward the same direction, traveling the long road together.

Yet when did we lose each other’s paths?

Xiao Jue led the horse, walking slowly ahead. His steps were steady and firm, his tall figure never lost in crowds. He didn’t walk urgently, though anticipating the joy of being alone with Chang Ge. This road, this walking one behind the other, could perhaps be longer. This moment was peaceful—the one he loved wholeheartedly was behind him, and turning around he could touch her face. What greater happiness existed?

How long had he missed that feeling of having someone behind him, warm gazes touching his back?

Xiao Jue’s gaze also grew distant… Many, many years ago, there seemed to have been a similar scene.

That year… the youth blocking the gate with his blade on the long street, shouldering the desolate autumn colors, staring at the door that shut tight before him, hearing his brothers’ wanton laughter behind it. He bit his lips silently, yet his dark pupils were already uncontrollably brimming with tears. Then he heard light laughter from behind—a girl’s voice like a delicate flower falling from branches, light and charming.

After their conversation, tears were instantly dried by kindled hope’s fire. Yet with some confusion, he looked her up and down—so beautiful, so slender, so small. She seemed dreamlike in her perfection. Were those heart-stirring promises also easily shattered dreams?

“Follow me.”

The girl’s eyes flowed intelligently, immediately seeing his doubt. She turned, leaving a graceful, beautiful silhouette.

He hesitated slightly but immediately followed without overthinking.

She walked ahead, he behind, his gaze always fixed on her back. How could a person’s outline be so exquisitely perfect? Those flowing curves like poetry, or perhaps the charming beauty of rainbow clouds on the horizon…

At that moment he hated not studying well. All those brilliant phrases accumulated by literati over millennia seemed to lose color before absolute beauty, appearing artificial and crafted, unable to match this woman’s natural beauty and phoenix-like spiritual grace.

Winding around, they left the city and stopped before a dilapidated shrine. She turned to smile at him, brushing dust from the shrine’s incense table.

With just a light brush, the table flew up weightlessly, moving to another spot, revealing a pattern underneath.

He stared in amazement—this girl was only thirteen or fourteen, how did she possess such shocking martial skills?

She leaned against the wall, smiling and beckoning: “Come, look.”

He approached as instructed, wondering why his usually disobedient self obeyed this younger girl so completely. Yet this small girl’s gentle eyes contained vast realms, soaring vision, and magnificent presence.

He involuntarily lowered his gaze to see blue stone carvings divided into four scenes: Dragon Soaring in Heaven, Claws Grasping Giant Turtle, Smashing Turtle on Stone, Turtle Dies and Dragon Dances.

The carver’s skill was extraordinary—mere strokes conveyed spirit, fully displaying the dragon’s divine power and turtle’s ferocity, the dragon’s heavenly dance and turtle’s death struggles, captivating viewers instantly.

Attracted by these seemingly magical images, he stared intently. The girl’s light voice suddenly sounded in his ear, extremely close. Her falling hair touched his shoulder, bright as black satin, carrying fragrant, cool mint and angelica scent.

“Emperor Yuanlie of Great Yuan was reportedly born from his mother’s dream of a divine turtle. He later rose from grass roots, seizing the Ye Dynasty’s realm to replace it. Through five generations of emperors with reversed actions and meager virtue, the Yuan Dynasty’s reign of mere generations nears decline. Heaven’s way revolves, destiny exhausted—this is when heroes emerge to compete for the realm, when you should act!”

He looked up in amazement: “Me?”

“You.” The girl before him had flying hair and deep eyes, carrying a destined one’s wisdom and clarity, like a goddess in twilight colors.

“You were born in the eighteenth year of Emperor Yuanjing, year of the dragon, with eight characters: Xinchen, Dingyou, Gengwu, Bingzi. ‘This destiny shows benevolence and filial piety, learning both literary and martial arts thoroughly. Childhood disasters pose no hindrance. Fortune comes at sixteen, all endeavors succeed, aspirations improve. The wife star in destiny is most virtuous and rare, with four directions forming auspicious patterns in the pillar.'”

Seeing Xiao Jue’s confused expression, she smiled: “In short, this is a strong destiny with profound heavenly gifts. As for this shrine’s totem, my eldest senior brother sixteen years ago, traveling the world, passed this place and saw a household’s child born with auspicious clouds and purple qi from the east. Inspired, he cast a divination and carved this image. This dragon wears golden armor at sixteen, rising from cloud peaks, predicting the new lord’s ascension opportunity. The turtle beneath represents the Yuan Dynasty! Heaven grants opportunities—not seizing them brings retribution. Brother Xiao, do you understand?”

Do you understand?

The young girl from divine mountains touching mortal earth lightly parted vermillion lips. Brief words fell like a giant sword, splitting open a new world for him, letting fresh, sweet, cool air into the oppressive, dark, binding corner of earthly existence.

That world contained fire and blood, sacrifice and white bones—those brothers whose heads fell in his arms on battlefields, those nameless warriors’ hot blood spilled at grass roots, those hardships and tears carved in memory step by step—all eventually built the sixteen-year-old youth’s solid empire, fulfilling his years-long wish to save people from suffering and overthrow tyranny.

With an indulgent smile tinged with light sorrow, Xiao Jue stepped out of the city. Time in memories always passed quickly—seemingly in a blink, he stood on suburban hillsides.

He turned back, gazing at Qin Chang Ge.

Spring breezes were gentle, green grass like silk. Nearby, peach blossoms bloomed festively like a fragrant feast. Below the hillside, a clear stream reflected pink petals blown down by wind.

Under the blue sky, swallows chirped, their black forms tracing spiritually pure arcs. Under the blue sky, a scholar in plain blue approached slowly.

This refined scholar’s face wasn’t her face; Ming Shuang’s face wasn’t her face either—but what did that matter? What he loved, never forgot, always remembered was only her as a person. His Chang Ge was inherently a woman of infinite spiritual charm, possessing whirlpool-like mental attraction beyond appearance. Beauty for her was merely adding color to spiritual brilliance—what was that worth?

Under the vast sky, among green grass, he waited for his beloved woman to approach.

Under the vast sky, among green grass, Qin Chang Ge approached resentfully.

…This person was clearly lovesick, forgetting her martial arts were much inferior to before. Though recent practice made her comparable to third-rate masters, after nine days of examination completion, she was truly tired. Why couldn’t he lend her the horse?

“A’Jue,” she stopped, panting as she supported her knees, “do you have something important to say?”

Xiao Jue, who’d been seeking a windbreak, suddenly paused. After a while: “Chang Ge, would you refuse to see me if there’s nothing important to discuss?”

Startled by his gloomy tone, Qin Chang Ge momentarily didn’t know how to answer.

She was supremely intelligent, but regarding love, she wasn’t experienced. In her first previous life, before fourteen she’d practiced martial arts intensively. Though she had fellow disciples, they were either wrong ages or martial fanatics. Entering a world-renowned sect was fortune accumulated over lifetimes—who would waste time on ethereal emotions? At fourteen, descending the mountain, the first man she met and was deeply impressed by was Xiao Jue. Afterward, following him in military campaigns, constantly moving north and south through iron fire and gunpowder, endless warfare—their love developed on horseback, their feelings forged drop by drop through sweat and blood. That life-and-death, unbreakable solid emotion made her never consider other men’s existence. Becoming his consort after founding the nation seemed natural. The whole world believed Qin Chang Ge should belong to Xiao Jue, and she’d always thought so too.

Until the Changle fire, living another life, experiencing modern society’s rich information and concepts, Qin Chang Ge suddenly realized she hadn’t loved him as much as she’d thought in her previous life.

How could love tolerate him marrying many consorts for political balance?

How could love willingly yield the empress position to others, remaining only a concubine?

How could love, after dwelling in dark palaces, let founding empress’s endless ambitions and boundless wings be bound and buried without resentment?

No, she couldn’t say she didn’t love—her sacrifice and tolerance were equally based on feelings for Xiao Jue.

Perhaps… he was her choice, but not her only and first choice?

Had she always remembered the Thousand Absolutes Gate disciple’s identity and mission of prioritizing the world, thereby suppressing and distorting her true emotional direction?

Qin Chang Ge had asked herself countless times without finding answers.

Better not to seek unnecessary troubles. Since answers were unsolvable and the past irretrievable, start over and see if, facing the new vast world and countless choices, her heart still ran toward his affectionate eyes.

Give herself a chance, give him a chance too. If memory served, hadn’t Xiao Jue also first noticed girls beyond his sisters at sixteen, falling in love during subsequent storm-weathered years?

Perhaps he too was “naturally appropriate”—thinking he loved most, finally becoming “should love.” Did other choices become mistakes? Was this fate’s psychological suggestion to both him and her?

Qin Chang Ge tilted her head slightly, smiling at the refreshing spring breeze.

Last night’s long wind was good for standing idle, watching me with disheveled hair climb the high tower. How many joys and sorrows in mortal dust—let them flow to bright moon and great river.

Turning to see Xiao Jue still gazing at her intently, he said gravely: “Chang Ge, is it that whatever I say now can never compare to the past?”

Qin Chang Ge frowned, about to answer, when she suddenly froze.

At the hillside’s windbreak, Xiao Jue had somehow magically spread a cloth with golden cups and silver chopsticks, plus a dragon-and-phoenix carved silver food box and a small stove-like object.

Raising her eyebrows, Qin Chang Ge slowly approached, looking down and sighing: “Huainan smoky brocade—every inch worth gold, purple being most precious with one in ten pieces. You casually spread it on the ground—such a waste… But what are you doing here?”

“Oh,” Xiao Jue personally removed golden plates and jade dishes from the food box one by one, not lifting his head: “Rong’er said… you once told him you used to go spring outings and… picnics. When I asked what picnic meant, he said he’d never experienced it either—probably men and women eating together, spreading cloth, bringing food. I thought since you liked it, I’d…”

He never lifted his head while speaking. Qin Chang Ge narrowed her eyes, maliciously staring at his ears—this fellow’s face reddened starting with ears. Indeed—a radish reborn.

Smiling, Qin Chang Ge felt somewhat excited too. She walked over, lay down on the brocade, bit a grass blade, slowly chewing: “A’Jue, honestly you don’t seem like an emperor. I used to read novels where emperors were either tyrannically cruel or deeply scheming, either heartlessly promiscuous or forbiddingly cold—rarely seeing devoted, bright, domineering yet kind and lovable emperors like you.”

Unable to suppress laughter, Xiao Jue also sat beside her, comfortably lying down with elbows supporting his head, gazing at blue sky and floating clouds with a smile: “I don’t know what books you read, writing emperors in such strange ways, as if this were necessary to show imperial specialness. But emperors are also human—why would they all be identical? Moreover, Chang Ge, you know me—I was just a concubine’s son from a small prince’s mansion, unloved, with brothers receiving higher monthly allowances and food. Later you accompanied me conquering the realm through fire and blood without pampered days or leisure enjoyment. After founding the nation, I busied myself adapting to court politics, learning to extend vision nationwide—all my time was spent constantly advancing and learning. How emperors should sit, I had to learn. What imperial demeanor and character should be, I didn’t know and didn’t want to know. What dignified bearing? What imperial depth? With the realm beneath my feet, I’m dignified without trying. Grasping the world in my hands, I have depth without cultivating it.”

“Your last sentence was excellent,” Qin Chang Ge laughed. “I love hearing this—incidentally answering your earlier question: it’s not that whatever you say can’t compare to the past. A’Jue, I regard you exactly as before.”

Flames suddenly blazed in his eyes as Xiao Jue passionately turned over, grasping Qin Chang Ge’s hand: “Exactly as before! Then Chang Ge, you—”

He suddenly stopped. Before him, the woman who’d removed her mask had elegant eyebrows like gathering smoke and crystalline skin. Her clear eyes were bright as blue sea pearls, her beauty naturally poised and gracefully charming. A strand of black hair blown by wind rested at her lips—those transparent pink lips like a newly opened rose inviting in spring breeze.

His heart thundered. This face seemed strange yet familiar, but those eyes—weren’t they exactly her whom he’d painfully missed for three years?

His mind wandered distantly in that instant, suddenly recalling the Shadow Guards’ report about that day on Tianqu Avenue—who forcibly kissed whom…

Who was who suddenly escaped him. His mind now contained only “forcibly kissed.”

Those lips separated for three long years—did their fragrance remain?

That delicate rose… blooming in wind… who would pluck the deep fragrance and be intoxicated for life?

He deeply bowed his head…

…

“Stop!”

Pointing at Xiao Jue’s lips, her bright eyes smiled ambiguously at his slightly flushed cheeks as Qin Chang Ge said softly: “I’m in male dress now—aren’t you afraid people will think you have cut-sleeve preferences?”

Rolling away to a safe distance, Qin Chang Ge put her mask back on, sitting up with knees hugged, smiling: “A’Jue, this time is wonderful. You and I are both busy people—rarely having such leisure to share spring scenery together, we shouldn’t waste it. Though spring beauty is lovely, looking and appreciating shows treasuring. If we went further between us, it would spoil the mood.”

Smiling helplessly, Xiao Jue also sat up, thinking briefly: “I understand your meaning, Chang Ge. You always speak so indirectly—sometimes I think I’m truly unworthy of you.”

“Love has nothing to do with worthiness,” Qin Chang Ge rummaged through the food box for good things. “The prerequisite is it must be true love.”

“My heart toward you can naturally be proven…” Xiao Jue muttered extremely quietly, arranging dishes for Qin Chang Ge and introducing the food: “I brought deer lips, flying dragon, shad, lamb. Desserts are rock sugar bird’s nest, kidney bean rolls, honey-roasted cloud ear, silk nest tiger eye candy. Do you like them?”

“Why is everything except desserts raw?” Qin Chang Ge asked in amazement. “You want to roast them?”

“Rong’er said you all eat roasted meat. The palace has roasting stoves, but they’re too large. I had them rush to make a compact one—see if it’s suitable?”

While trying to light the stove with a fire stick, Xiao Jue asked seemingly casually: “Mm… Chang Ge, your picnics… were there many people? More men or women?”

Glancing at him with a smile, Qin Chang Ge picked up a kidney bean roll to eat slowly, answering seriously: “Both were numerous.”

“…When did you… picnic? Weren’t you just recently revived? With whom? Mr. Chu and them?” Xiao Jue continued casually, shaking the fire stick against the wind toward the stove’s oil and charcoal.

“Mm… in the past… many men indeed, but not Feihuan and them.” Qin Chang Ge’s eyes sparkled with flowing light and gentle smiles.

Xiao Jue’s hand trembled.

“A’Jue, what are you doing?”

“Boom!”