That day, Li Gu ultimately failed to stay the night — Xie Yuzhang took advantage of the sky not yet fully dark to drive him off the mountain.

But once he left, Xie Yuzhang felt restless and unsettled for days, often dreaming in her sleep at night.

In one dream, she had never gone to marry into a foreign land, Da Zhao had not fallen, and Li Gu had come to seek her hand in marriage to a princess. She said to him, “Who are you? Who knows you?” Upon waking, she knew that was impossible — a minor border general like him had no business marrying a princess. Li Ming’s own son would have been the more fitting match.

In another dream, that snowy hill beneath the moonlit night — Li Gu said, “I’ll take you away,” and she said, “All right.” Then the world fell into chaos, he died, she was seized by others, and she wept herself hoarse in the dream. When she woke, the corners of her eyes still held tears.

The most beautiful dream was of her returning after eight years in Mobei, with Li Gu having ascended the throne as Emperor, yet never having taken a wife — waiting alone for her. In the dream, she said, “This isn’t real; it must be a dream.” Upon waking, it was indeed a dream.

Thinking it over carefully, each dream held something she desired. She wanted the nation not to fall, the family not to be shattered, wanted the pure and uncontaminated flutter of youthful hearts — and still wanted to return home safely, with her beloved still waiting for her.

She laughed at herself and asked: on what grounds?

To want so much — truly greedy. But knowing her own limited strength, among all these “desires,” choices had to be made.

Li Gu was powerful, so he refused to choose — he wanted everything.

He wanted to be Emperor, and he wanted to be a person.

Yet the two of them had walked to where they were today; the reason they could know each other so deeply was precisely because they had gone through so much. The reason she was who she was, and he was who he was, was this path they had walked step by step. Remove any one step, and today might not look like this at all.

Back then in the Yuhua Garden, the young general had been, in her eyes, nothing more than a powerful leg she urgently wanted to cling to. Thinking of it this way, her heart settled considerably.

Yet woven among these many dreams was a spring dream — she dreamed of Li Gu’s chest and firm waist, and woke to a wave of flushed heat, her breathing rapid and urgent. Xie Yuzhang stared at the top of the bed canopy, feeling it must be because she had been empty for far too long.

So she brought Jia You along to pray at the temple.

On the western mountain’s main peak, the front mountain held the Da Xiang He Temple, while the rear mountain held the Baochong Convent. The Baochong Convent was strict in its rules and orthodox in its teachings; its incense and offerings had never fallen short of the Da Xiang He Temple’s.

Having been reborn these many years, Xie Yuzhang knelt once more before the Bodhisattva. With the distant resonance of bells and chimes filling her ears, her lips moved slightly, and the sutras she had once recited a thousand times over flowed forth naturally in her mind.

Her heart grew much calmer.

There was no better state than this moment.

It was not that she was without feeling for Li Gu. The two of them knew each other deeply — at times without even speaking, they could understand one another. How could that be called heartless?

Only entering the palace… truly not worth it, not worth it.

Xie Yuzhang settled her heart and offered prayers for Lin Fei.

The waterways of the Si River were too complex; Yang Huaishen had not been able to catch up to Gao Dalang’s ship. But knowing who Gao Dalang was, the whereabouts of Lin Fei could be traced.

Li Gu had dispatched people to infiltrate southward and see whether Lin Fei could be rescued. Yang Huaishen had originally wanted to go himself, but Li Gu firmly held him back.

Yang Huaishen’s appearance and accent marked him unmistakably as a northerner through and through. And his desperation to rescue his wife had completely stripped him of composure; even a slight rashness in such undercover work would easily give him away.

Had Gao Dalang not seized Lin Fei as a human shield, he would have died ten thousand deaths by now.

For northerners to go south was far harder than for southerners to go north.

Because in Yunjing, there still existed many people with tangled, lingering ties to the south — this was something everyone privately understood.

In the years of great upheaval, many people had placed bets on all sides, not concentrating all their risks on one person. The Lu Clan and the Zheng Clan had originally been great northern families; it was their unwillingness to submit to the Hexi people that had driven them across the river and south. In the north, they still maintained considerable networks of people and informants, knew the north well, and had many individuals they could make use of. This was also why the Gao Clan had been able to quietly infiltrate Yunjing — Xie Yuzhang could guess that someone in Yunjing must have received them, though she had been unable to trace who.

Yet the south was entirely foreign territory to Li Gu and the Hexi army.

Not only did they have no foothold there whatsoever, but the northern cavalry’s effectiveness was greatly diminished in the south due to the terrain. In her previous life, Li Gu had campaigned south three times before thoroughly sweeping the south bank of the Jiang River clean, achieving a truly extraordinary military feat.

Thinking of Lin Fei, Xie Yuzhang’s heart grew completely still.

In the time when they had been together before, she had never once been impulsive or restless. Since returning to Yunjing and parting from Lin Fei, she had grown less calm than before.

Before the Bodhisattva, she prayed silently — without any impractical extravagances. She asked only that Lin Fei remain alive.

As long as she was alive, the rest… could all be worked out. In their previous lives, the two of them had been in such a wretched state, yet they had still lived in Yunjing for several years.

After sharing tea with the abbess in the meditation room, Xie Yuzhang walked out of the Baochong Convent and said to her attendant, “Call Nineteenth Young Lady — time to go back.”

The attendant replied, “Nineteenth Young Lady doesn’t like staying in the convent. Everyone took her down the mountain to play; they said they would wait for us at the foot of the mountain.”

The Baochong Convent was austere and solemn — a place of tranquility in Xie Yuzhang’s eyes, but in Jia You’s eyes, it bore more than a passing resemblance to the deathly stillness of the Xiaoyao Marquisate. Only when the attendant mentioned that Jia You did not like it here did Xie Yuzhang realize. She thought to herself: from now on, she would not bring Jia You to such places.

The group made their way toward the foot of the mountain.

Halfway down, a guard came rushing up to report: “Nineteenth Young Lady has fallen into the water!”

At the foot of the mountain ran an unnamed river, with a ferry crossing on it.

Shi Youtian settled himself on the boat, fished a fruit from inside his robe, and offered it over: “Have one.”

Yinyin turned her head back, took it, and her expression was somewhat dazed.

Shi Youtian asked, “What’s wrong?”

Yinyin said, “It felt like someone was calling my name.”

Shi Youtian made a surprised sound, then suddenly stood up and looked back toward the bank where they had just boarded: “Someone’s fallen into the water…”

The passengers on the boat all looked over. Sure enough, at the very spot where they had just boarded, a crowd had gathered; someone had been pulled from the water, and it appeared to be a woman.

But the people who had gathered all looked, by their clothing, to be part of the same household’s guards and maids. Could it be that a young noblewoman had fallen in? With so many people attending her, how had they still let her fall into the water?

Yinyin asked, “Is she all right?”

Shi Youtian said, “Hard to say.”

Yinyin said, “I hope she’s fine.”

His new wife had a very kind heart. Shi Youtian said, “Should be fine — look at all those people there. The water’s shallow near the bank; no one will drown.”

He comforted her further: “Today was just bad luck — noble visitors arrived at the convent. We’ll come back to pay our respects another time.”

Yinyin smiled but said nothing.

She and Shi Youtian had been husband and wife for several years, and she had yet to conceive. Today they had come to the Baochong Convent to pray to the Bodhisattva. To their misfortune, noble visitors had come to the convent, closed the gates, and turned people away — they had not managed to pray.

Yet she had not truly come to pray for a child.

Her home lay outside the city walls. Because of the scar on her face, she rarely interacted with neighbors. Her husband spent every day thinking of matters worth ten or eight copper coins — thinking of saving enough to patch the roof, to rebuild the stove — and did not pay much attention to the affairs of the world.

It was only a few days ago that he had brought home from the city the news that the Xiaoyao Marquisate had burned to the ground. He had told her, in the manner of relaying a strange and curious tale, that “the former dynasty’s Emperor and Crown Prince had been burned to death,” and she had gone still on the spot, nearly letting the fire singe her hand.

She had wept several times in secret, and told her husband she wanted to come pray for a child — so husband and wife had come together.

Her true intention had been to light a perpetual lamp for the people of her household. But the Baochong Convent had not let them in, and when she asked the gatekeeper about it, the price of the perpetual lamp was more than she could afford.

Nothing to be done but go back down the mountain.

Yinyin took a bite of the fruit. It had been picked along the road and was somewhat sour. She could not eat it, and passed it to her husband.

Shi Youtian took it and crunched through it in a few bites, cleaning it down to nothing. He wiped his mouth and looked toward the far bank again: “Even more people now.”

Yinyin turned to look once more — sure enough, quite a crowd had gathered. When a noble person went out, they naturally brought many powerful servants. A carriage came driving up; someone carried the person who had fallen into the water and placed her inside. It seemed everything was all right.

Yinyin turned back and looked no more.

By the time Xie Yuzhang rushed down the mountain, Jia You was still struggling and shrieking, trying to fling herself out of the carriage.

Xie Yuzhang had no time to ask what had happened. She told the attendant to get out first, then crawled inside herself and wrapped her arms around Jia You: “Jia You, Jia You, it’s me — it’s Elder Sister.”

Jia You clutched her robe with both hands: “Elder Sister! Elder Sister!”

Xie Yuzhang said happily, “It’s Elder Sister — don’t be afraid, Elder Sister is here.”

“It’s not Elder Sister!” Jia You’s hands were trembling, and her voice was shaking too. “It’s Elder Sister Fu Kang!”

Xie Yuzhang’s arms around Jia You went still for a moment: “What?”

“Elder Sister Fu Kang!” Jia You repeated. “Elder Sister Fu Kang!”

In her agitation, she could not find the words. But Xie Yuzhang understood, and immediately asked, “You saw Fu Kang?”

Jia You said, “I heard! I heard her!”

Jia You’s clothes were still wet. The attendants had just fetched a blanket from the carriage to wrap around her, but Jia You kept struggling and refusing.

Xie Yuzhang picked up the blanket and wrapped it around Jia You first, then asked, “Where?”

Jia You said, “The boat!”

Xie Yuzhang lifted the carriage curtain and peered out — sure enough, there was a ferry crossing at the riverside, and a boat on the river making its way over from the opposite bank.

She immediately singled out several guards and commanded: “Go to the other bank. See if there is a woman in her early twenties who resembles me and Nineteenth Young Lady somewhat. If there is, ask her if her name is Fu Kang. Whether or not it is — if there is anyone who looks close enough, bring her here. Better to take the wrong person than to let the right one slip away!”

Several guards received their orders and departed.

Hearing her give the command, Jia You finally quieted down.

Xie Yuzhang retreated back inside the carriage and pulled the blanket tighter around her, saying, “Tell Elder Sister what happened.”

Jia You looked at her and said, “I was on the slope. I heard — Elder Sister Fu Kang.”

“I came down, she was gone.”

“I chased, she disappeared, I jumped into the water.”

Jia You and the attendant had gone up the slope to pick flowers when she heard a voice from below say: “Young Master, there are a few fruits on that tree — let’s pick them to take along.”

The voice carried upward from below, and Jia You, standing at the higher elevation, heard it clearly and unmistakably. That voice was her Elder Sister Fu Kang’s.

But the terrain of a mountain was what it was — a person standing above a steep ridge could hear sounds below but could not simply leap down. Jia You hiked up her skirts and ran frantically, circling around a long way before reaching that spot. The young woman who had spoken was nowhere to be seen.

Jia You followed that path in pursuit, chasing all the way to the river’s edge ferry crossing. The boat was drifting leisurely toward the opposite bank, and in her desperation, Jia You leapt into the water.

Her account was extremely brief, but Xie Yuzhang understood it.

“Guards have gone to look — they’ve already gone to look. You change your clothes first, and don’t catch a chill.” Xie Yuzhang said.

Jia You changed into a spare set of clothes inside the carriage. They did not leave, but waited at the ferry crossing for an hour, until the guards returned with two women and two men, reporting: “We only found these two.”

Both young women were in their early twenties, and there was simply no way either of them could be Fu Kang. The two men were their husbands. Suddenly brought before a noble personage, all four were deeply frightened.

Xie Yuzhang sighed, and with gentle words set their fears at ease, having silver taken out and presented to them as an apology and to calm their nerves.

The two couples took the silver and left in good spirits.

“Don’t be afraid. Tomorrow we’ll keep searching — we’ll cover every inch of this area!” Xie Yuzhang said.

Jia You leaned against her, tears falling: “I heard her, I truly did.”

“I know.” Xie Yuzhang held her close. “Elder Sister believes you. Jia You is the most obedient.”

“Jia You is the most obedient.”

Wasn’t that… the thing Elder Sister Fu Kang said most often?

Jia You’s tears kept falling.

Xie Yuzhang had the guards search for several days, covering all the nearby villages — without any result.

It was not easy for the guards either, for beyond her age, there were simply no other clues. Xie Yuzhang had said that Fu Kang would certainly bear some resemblance to herself and Jia You, so the person would certainly not be plain-looking — at the very least she ought to be of above-average appearance. Given the late Emperor’s looks and those of his consorts, nine times out of ten she would be a beauty.

Yet in these rural villages and countryside, where would beauties be found? It was nothing more than something the princess had put on to comfort Nineteenth Young Lady.

After several fruitless days of searching, the guards returned and reported to Xie Yuzhang. She was not disappointed or angered, because she had never held any expectation of the matter.

She had long since given up hope. If Fu Kang were still alive, why had she not come to find her, or to find the Xiaoyao Marquisate?

A girl of fourteen, in that kind of military catastrophe — how could she possibly have survived? In her previous life, even Jia You had vanished with no trace of life or death. In this life, to have recovered one sister was already a stroke of heaven-given fortune.

Xie Yuzhang was moreover deeply grateful that she had brought Jia You out of the Xiaoyao Marquisate. Now, at least, she was not utterly alone, a solitary shadow.

Only now she felt it necessary to have a talk with Jia You.

Xie Yuzhang came to Jia You’s room and, for the first time, spoke with her about Fu Kang.

“In times like those, it was impossible to survive,” she said. “Jia You, you must understand — Fu Kang, she… has long since passed.”

Jia You stared at her. In her eyes, the memory of firelight returned — and within those flames, the slender silhouette of Elder Sister Fu Kang. Her arms were seized by several rogue soldiers, struggling but unable to break free.

Those men were tearing at her clothes.

Jia You clutched her own head and let out a hoarse, sobbing cry, like a wounded wild creature.

From that day on, Jia You no longer spoke.

Xie Yuzhang had Wan Xiu bring Yaya to the western mountain. When Yaya saw Jia You again, she was overjoyed and ran to take her hand.

Jia You seemed not to recognize her, completely withdrawn into herself.

When Yaya left, she wept with deep sorrow.