He had held the brush for too long—so long that the ink saturating the brush tip slowly formed into a rounded arc before impatiently falling.

“Plop.”

Black ink spattered across the gold-flecked silk gauze paper, spreading into a shape like a black sun.

Ning Yi stared blankly at that fierce ink stain.

The sun had become like night… ever since she left.

It was merely a parting, yet suddenly it had transformed into a chasm of life and death across mountains and seas. He had fully expected to return to the capital leisurely with her waiting for him at Shangye, laden with gains and joy. He had planned to ask if she received the letter box, whether she liked that reed and coral, and if she would be willing to go see the reed marshes again with him on their way back from Nanhai. He had wanted to see whether after these months apart she had grown thin or plump, whether she’d been darkened by the sea wind, whether the waters of Nanhai had nourished her to greater radiance—he couldn’t see her for so long, for so very long.

But when he could finally see her, he could no longer see her.

“Wait for me.”

“I’ll always wait to return to the capital with you.”

“I’ve memorized your outline now—if I find you’ve lost weight by then, I won’t forgive you.”

“How will you not forgive me?”

“I’ll kill you—we’ll be irreconcilable enemies.”

Those laughing words then had become prophecy.

The road to Nanhai would forever diverge at Shangye harbor. On the harbor’s damp bluestone pavement, she would never again stand there with her robes fluttering.

She would never again wait for him to go see the reed marshes together—those reed flowers bloomed and faded year after year, existing only in dreams now.

She would never again check the contours of his face for weight loss, even if he wasted away to skeletal emaciation.

She would never forgive him—those two lives she treasured most stood coldly between him and her.

From then on, she truly became irreconcilable with him—Princess Shengying, Grand Consort Shunyi, departed so resolutely, not even waiting to confront him face to face. Her mind was made up, no words needed—he understood.

That day outside Taihe Gate, he lingered for a long while before silently turning back. He couldn’t catch up to her, nor should he pursue.

Even if he caught up, what could he say? That it wasn’t actually his order? That Xin Ziyan acted on his own without listening? That Ning Cheng unauthorized added incitement in his secret letter to Xin Ziyan? Or that he had never thought of eliminating her?

Some explanations—forget her not believing them, even he didn’t believe them.

Their first meeting at the Qiu Mansion, he had gone to contact Fifth Concubine, having her steal the birth dates of the Feng siblings. The Golden Feather Guard had spent so many years investigating, already preliminarily focusing their attention on the Feng siblings.

Initially the suspect was Feng Hao. Lady Feng treasured and protected that child so carefully—he had thought so too. However, after that one encounter at the ice lake, he suddenly began to notice her.

Such resolute coldness, so composed—as if carrying the deep bloodline that typically flowed in the imperial clan.

Lady Feng had pampered Feng Hao, who bore the great responsibility of reviving the Dacheng, into a wastrel, yet educated her discarded daughter into an extraordinarily brilliant woman.

From instinct, he didn’t believe it.

He had his subordinates—those well-informed capital dandies—approach Feng Hao, attempting to incite the vain and glory-seeking Feng Hao to sell off valuable family items. Imperial descendants all had gold and jade registers proving their bloodline identity. If Feng Hao, lacking discretion and strapped for cash, secretly rummaged out something while hiding it from Lady Feng, the matter would be settled.

The dandies tempted Feng Hao, but his gaze remained on Feng Zhiwei.

Meeting at the brothel, encountering at the academy, the Crown Prince’s treason case, Shaoning’s frame-up, Noble Consort Rong’s birthday celebration, the forged edict—stumbling through it all together, step by step watching her emerge like a young phoenix in the wilds, crying out with a clear voice.

He was vigilant, yet involuntarily drew near.

He didn’t know when it began, but the purpose of following her became transformed from initial surveillance into obsession.

It was fate, it was destiny, and it was also karma. The whirlpool deep in her misty eyes made him unable to help plunging in. By the time he wanted to pull himself out, he had already drowned without trace.

The curtains hung deep, so deep that this light second-month spring breeze couldn’t penetrate. Ning Yi’s hand pressed against the desk as he removed the ink-stained paper.

He spread out clean paper again, lifted the purple brush once more, freshly dipped it in fragrant ink, and slowly set brush to paper.

“Letter presented to Grand Consort Shunyi”

Light flashed before his eyes—the tall, majestic old Dacheng bridge appeared hazily, leaning against the bridge railing on thin snow, sharing a pot of crude wine.

He had pointed at the mountains and rivers, his tone proud: “On this day, the old ministers of Dacheng bow down like grass, all beneath my Emperor’s feet.”

She had silently drunk wine with a chilling smile: “They bow only to bloodstained weapons.”

As the remnant night drew to a close, emptying the pot, she poured wine as libation upon the towering bridge.

“This last drop of wine, I offer to this lone bridge. Worldly affairs shift and change unpredictably, only this bridge stands eternal.”

Worldly affairs truly did shift unpredictably. In the end, no one remained who they were, only the long bridge stood silently in the desolate wind.

“…It has been long since we parted. Are you well?”

He had leaned against her cheek, grasping her fingers, rubbing them over and over. His slightly bowed posture brought them as close as could be, their breaths audible and mingling, even their hair silently tangling together, hanging down together. Occasionally turning his head slightly, nestling against her cheek—her cheek fine as jade—his mood was like jade-green leaves skimming across rippling water, splashing up layer upon layer of rippling water patterns that silently spread outward.

Are you well, are you well—that day in the small courtyard outside the palace, their temples pressed together, tenderness to the point of severity, ultimately buried by the deep snow of the vast heavens.

“…Since parting at Longxi, nearly half a year has passed…”

Somewhere, lantern colors flashed brilliantly, like jade pearls flying to the sky—that was Noble Consort Rong’s grand birthday, so many new faces laughing, no old faces weeping.

In the abandoned palace amid violent rain, in the gloomy palace chamber with the roaring fire, she gave him the back view of warming his clothes—serene and gentle.

“Do you think you’re so beautiful I’d lose control of myself?”

“I believe I can be.”

The dark room fragrant and warm, entrusting their innermost thoughts, whose lips were so sweetly fragrant, containing the boundless spring colors of thousands upon thousands of years—one touch was stunning, going deeper meant losing one’s soul. He finally lost his soul, lost his heart.

“Zhiwei, even if all the world becomes my enemy, I alone do not wish to have you among them.”

Zhiwei, Zhiwei—it turned out that merely having you as my enemy hurt more than all the world taking me as their foe.

“…The Imperial Capital is in the midst of spring sunshine, the scenery fine and clear. I wonder what the landscape is like in the frontier wilderness beyond the passes…”

That day the weather was fine and clear, the banyan trees’ emerald shade like a canopy. She stood with hands behind her back: “Have Prince Chu come speak with me.”

He came—regardless of their opposition, he was unwilling to break his promise to her.

Fragrant tea and elegant hands, words sharp as blades. He understood Feng Zhiwei struggling in the Imperial Capital, unwilling to be beneath others, yet tried to hold onto that heart destined to part ways.

“Speak not of advantages and disadvantages, speak not of the future—ask only this moment’s heart, your heart.”

“My heart is in its proper place. Perhaps one day heaven and earth may overturn, enough to make it tilt and capsize.”

“Zhiwei, leave official life, return to the Qiu Mansion… In the future, you will be my…”

“Prince Chu Ning Yi is unqualified!”

Zhiwei, I truly am that unqualified person—not yet having three palaces and six courts, already wielding the blade so fiercely.

The Imperial Capital is in the midst of spring sunshine, but this spring light lacks one person, so spring is no longer that spring. The banyan trees at Qingming Academy remain evergreen, but who in this life will again elegantly hand over fragrant tea?

“…The northern lands are bitterly cold. In the morning depths and deep night, do not forget to keep warm…”

At Huayan Du Village, someone used their life to help them escape. On the cliff behind the house, someone gently held his knees.

“Now, let me be your eyes.”

Waking dependent on each other beneath the mountain cliff, she lowered her head fastening her collar buttons, the faint fragrance of her fingertips seeming to linger at his nose even now.

“If I left the Imperial Capital and disappeared forever, what would you think?”

“I would find you.”

“And if you couldn’t find me?”

“You cannot escape. The territories of the realm, wind, rain, water, and soil will all ultimately belong to me. Even if you became ash, turned to bones—those would still be my ash, my bones.”

Zhiwei.

The territories of the realm, wind, rain, water, and soil—even if they ultimately all belong to me, what I find may not be the original you. In the vast yellow earth, the vast snow, that heavy final page of Changxi’s thirteenth year—whose ash was crushed in the end, whose bones?

“…You grew up in the interior Central Plains, surely you’re not accustomed to grassland cuisine…”

That day in the ancestral hall, voices surged like tides. She rushed over mountains from afar, with flowing sleeves skillfully resolving the ancestral hall crisis, then collapsed into his arms like a wisp of light cloud.

That time in the dark room he knelt before her, personally and quietly wiping her body, harboring desolation and sorrow in his heart, thinking from then on everything returned to the origin, became strange again.

That time finally leaving her side, marching to Xita, before the vast reed marshes, plucking feathers and capturing wind, wanting to listen to the sound of the wind together with her.

That time passing the sea at Anlan Gorge, amid the empty, tranquil rising and falling sounds of waves, slowly gluing coral onto the envelope, thinking that the moment he thought he’d lost her was also like seawater pouring down, thus sleepless through another night.

Those nights quietly writing letters in the dark, imagining what movements and methods she would use to hide the letters, silently rejoicing in the quiet of bright moon and sparse stars, myriad sounds hushed.

That day, handing the box full of envelopes to Yan Huaishi, hearing the uncontainable light joy in his tone, suddenly also feeling heaven and earth bright, the long wind peaceful.

But it turned out.

The closest distance was only to pull apart more violently and distantly.

All along the winding path, rising and falling without rest, arriving at today—could it truly be only these few painless, itchless sentences on this gold-flecked paper? Could it truly be only Prince Chu’s commonplace greetings to Grand Consort Shunyi, greetings that could be made public to the world at any time?

He suddenly stopped his brush.

Pressed his lips together.

Then boldly swept his brush forward, the strokes extremely swift, one sentence pausing, suddenly transforming into flowing water.

“Zhiwei, that day in the Imperial Capital, the snow was deep, enough to bury one’s knees. I lingered long outside the side hall of Anping Palace. I heard you had stayed there one night. On the low tree outside the side hall were scattered finger marks—were they yours? Did you perhaps take that tree for me? Even taking it for me would be fine—why didn’t you wait for my arrival, using your own fingers to personally grip my throat? I wielded the blade on the road, extinguishing two lives dear to you. You merely brushed your sleeves and departed, hiding away to the grassland ends of the earth out of sight. This truly doesn’t seem like your nature.

Zhiwei, some people are destined by fate to block your path. Traveling the entire world, you cannot hide from them. Perhaps you don’t want to hide, just thinking to bide your time and nurture your strength, so that one day you too can strike me with your blade on the road. Then by all means don’t make me wait too long—the documents of appointment and promotion for Wei Zhi still wait in my drawer for you.

You also promised to wait for me at the other end of the road. That road has now been pulled too far apart, but no matter how far the road, as long as one is willing to walk it, there will always be a day of arrival.

That box filled with letter papers—I imagine it was either trampled beneath your horse’s hooves or consigned to flowing water. No matter—the writing was truly rather ugly. When I have leisure, I will rewrite them one by one. The Xita reeds, the Anlan coral, along with the Minnan phoenix-tail wood—none are unique things in this world. What is truly unique is the mood during certain unforgettable encounters in one’s life.

I don’t know where you’ve stored that mood. I wait here for you to personally come dig it out and take it away.

Remember—don’t make me wait too long.”

He sealed the envelope, added fire wax, and along with that exquisitely sealed gift basket, quietly placed them on the desk.

He leaned slightly back against the chair back, facing that letter, quietly watching the daylight pass through the curtains bit by bit across the latticed window, then replaced by frost-like moonlight, hazily plating the pale green envelope, gradually blurring the characters into faint smudges.

The wind above the eaves sang a desolate tune. The night in the Imperial Capital was so very long.

The Imperial Capital’s night was so very long—someone from day to night, tossing and turning over a single letter.

But the sunlight on the grasslands was bright and brilliant. The crowds at the royal court celebrated like the sea, engulfing people until they forgot their sorrows.

Helian Zheng held Feng Zhiwei and rode down, immediately sinking into an ocean of people. After struggling for a long while, they finally reached the palace gate. Helian Zheng’s entire body was already hung with pouches, belts, and various foods. Even Feng Zhiwei’s arms had been thrown greasy glutinous rice cakes.

As soon as they turned past the crowd, Feng Zhiwei slapped Helian Zheng’s chest with one palm. The technique was skillful—the slap made Helian Zheng’s hands loosen, and Feng Zhiwei had already gracefully landed.

She straightened her collar, not even glancing at Helian Zheng, turned and walked away.

“Hey, hey, are you angry?” Helian Zheng hurried to catch up and grab her sleeve. “Don’t, don’t! Little Aunt, Little Aunt, next time I won’t!”

Every time he felt guilty, he called her Little Aunt. Feng Zhiwei turned her face helplessly and said, “You remember now?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” Helian Zheng’s eyes shone brightly as he looked up at the grassland’s extraordinarily vast sky. “Zhiwei, I’ve finally returned from the Imperial Capital. Heaven knows how much I detest the Imperial Capital—deadly dull, everyone wearing masks, everyone living without autonomy, every word people say you can only believe thirty percent of. The grasslands are better—even the sky is higher than in the Imperial Capital. Zhiwei, I only wanted you to know my joy.”

I only wanted you to know my joy.

Feng Zhiwei’s eyelashes trembled slightly. For an instant, her smile carried some desolation—I know, I know, but even if you wanted to share with me joy enough to fill the entire grassland, I have no place to put that joy anymore.

There—the place of the heart—held only the first snow of Changxi’s thirteenth year in the Imperial Capital, drifting down endlessly, never ceasing.

“So lively!” A cheerful shout came from behind. Chunyu Meng followed with guards, excitedly exclaiming loudly, “I like the Huozhuo tribe girls! Tomorrow I’ll ask for one as a wife!”

“Aren’t you going back?” Feng Zhiwei smiled.

Chunyu Meng instantly suppressed his smile. Feng Zhiwei stared at his expression in surprise and said, “You truly don’t want to go back? How is that possible? Your Chunyu family are trusted confidants of Prince Chu. If you return, with the merit of Nanhai and this escort mission, Prince Chu will definitely arrange an important substantive position for you—a bright future. Don’t give up on it.”

This was the first time since leaving the capital she had actively mentioned Ning Yi. Speaking of that person, her heart felt as if suddenly stuffed with burning clouds—chaotic and faintly painful.

“I received His Highness’s urgent courier at the grassland border.” Chunyu Meng said, “He said that as I come from a martial family, military merit is the most substantial thing. Rather than slowly working my way up in the Changying Guard back in the capital, better to take advantage of the current need for reinforcement officers in the Yue conflict and directly join the frontline camp. He asked me to consider it. I’ve already decided—once matters here are complete, I’ll head to Yuzhou camp. I’ll start as a deputy general. I listen to His Highness’s arrangements in everything. His Highness is never wrong.”

Feng Zhiwei remained silent. After a long while, she slowly smiled and said, “Yes, His Highness is never, ever wrong.”

Chunyu Meng looked at her expression, feeling a momentary palpitation. He wanted to say something but felt unable to speak.

Over there, with a cackle, Peony Flower had already squeezed out from the crowd, grabbing Feng Zhiwei’s hand with a laugh. “Quick, quick, quick! Let’s tour the second Potala. I’ve prepared the main palace for you—I’ll move out in a bit.”

“No need.” Feng Zhiwei was dragged along by her. “I can stay in any room…”

“Must do it, must do it!” Peony Flower was practically ready to slide across the smooth white stone floor. “I had people clear out the room early—you can move right in. Look at the room I decorated for you, you’ll definitely love it, haha…”

Feng Zhiwei thought to herself that with your taste, my liking it would be the strange thing. Peony Flower had already chattered all the way. This woman’s upper and lower lips operated at high speed every day, never seeming to tire. “Rest well. Jigou’s enthronement ceremony won’t happen immediately—we have to wait for Living Buddha Dama to come invoke the gods. Only if everything goes smoothly can we proceed. Perfect timing for Living Buddha Dama to read your fortune too. Hehe, back then that old fellow took one look and chose me, so Kuku could block those clan leaders’ mouths and establish me as Grand Consort…” Lips never stopping while winding through seven or eight turns into the palace, constantly waving at guards to make them step aside. After walking quite far and turning past a corridor, she pushed open a door and laughed, “Ta-da!”

Feng Zhiwei focused her gaze and was indeed struck by the “ta-da.”

Truly… festive.

Everywhere red—red bed, red canopy, red quilt, red vases, red felt rugs, red murals—brilliantly, intensely red, massed together in great swaths, making one’s head spin and eyes dazzle, blood vessels seeming ready to pound. This wasn’t all—what was more painful was that all the red objects had patterns. Regardless of whether the items themselves were grassland style, the patterns were definitely Central Plains mandarin ducks playing in water. Mandarin ducks playing in water would have been fine, but they had to add superfluous peony flowers. Peony flowers would have been fine, but the mandarin ducks playing in water were green, the peony flowers were yellow, painted on the bright red various objects, making one’s limbs twitch and spirit collapse upon viewing.

“Beautiful, right?” Peony Flower was immensely proud. “Bright! Festive! Spirited! Prosperous! I thought long and hard about this combination!”

Indeed, such a bizarre combination truly was hard for Peony Flower to have conceived.

Peony Flower swooshed open the door to the left side room. “This room was originally for my youngest son. He’s probably dead now, so perfect for Little Darling to stay in!” She added, “We grassland people don’t have so many rules. The child is still small—Yiyi can stay with her.”

Feng Zhiwei turned her head for a look and instantly developed enormous satisfaction for her own room—at least her room was still a room. This one—what could it be called?

All pink, the four walls padded with pink cushions, half the floor was a soft couch covered with pink pearl-studded bedding, hung with jingling copper bells. The bells were also not spared the trouble of being adorned with many ribbons, flowers, colorful balls, and so on—gaudy and chaotic. On the floor were piled many oddly shaped things, all pink and white. Feng Zhiwei picked one up and found it was made of flannel, presumably stuffed with cotton. As for the shape…

She held up something with five legs, one ear long and one ear short, and asked Peony Flower, “What is this?”

“A rabbit.”

“Why does it have five legs?”

Peony Flower scorned Feng Zhiwei’s eyesight. “Look clearly—that’s the tail, the tail!”

Feng Zhiwei grasped this world-unique long-tailed rabbit in her hand, gazing at it for a long time still thinking—how does this tail look more like a leg than the legs?

“You made this, didn’t you?”

This shocking handiwork had the same wonderful quality as that chest wrap—undoubtedly from the same hand.

Peony Flower proudly thrust out her chest, waves surging.

Feng Zhiwei turned back to look sympathetically at Young Master Gu—you’ll probably, perhaps, possibly have to sleep in this room full of children’s playthings, dreamlike and romantic in pink…

Young Master Gu stood calmly behind her, calmly surveying the room, feeling that aside from Feng Zhiwei’s expression being somewhat off, everything looked quite fine.

Peony Flower pulled Feng Zhiwei and Hua Qiong again, walking a few more steps, pushing open another door. “Qiong Qiong, you’re about to give birth—you should also stay nearby. This was originally…”

She suddenly made an “eh” sound and stopped.

The door opened. A person slowly stood up from the felt mat on the ground, lifting her chin to look over.

“Meiduo.” Peony Flower stared at her. “Why are you still here? Didn’t I tell you to move with me to the second courtyard rear hall?”

“I’m staying right here.” Meiduo smiled, raising the pot in her hand. “Grand Consort, this butter tea is piping hot. Come have a cup—I just had the maid brew it…”

“Why are you still here?” Liu Mudan suddenly lost her earlier chatter, no longer smiling, not acknowledging Meiduo’s invitation, and repeated that sentence.

As she repeated it, her tone turned cold. Her usual frivolous, jumping manner suddenly disappeared, giving rise to several degrees of severity and chill. Feng Zhiwei turned her head to look at her, finally understanding how this jesting, unrestrained Grand Consort had managed to stabilize the royal court during this chaotic period.

Meiduo’s expression stiffened. She bit her lip and repeated, “I’m staying right here.”

“I’m not even staying here anymore. Why do you want to stay here?” Liu Mudan stared at her without a trace of smile. “Are you perhaps more precious than me?”

Meiduo stood straight, setting the pot down on the table with a crisp sound. She said lightly, “I’ve lived in this room for over ten years. I’ve developed feelings for it. I don’t understand why just because the Great King is enthroned, I can’t even have a single room to continue living in. If you really want me to leave, fine—have the Great King come drive me out himself.”

“The second Potala Palace is my palace. Even Jixiang can’t override my authority here.” Liu Mudan laughed angrily and clapped her hands. Immediately a group of female slaves surged out from all sides. “Not leaving? Fine. Love to stay, then stay. But everything you’re using here was given to you by me—they’re my things. I can’t drag away your person, but I can drag away my things. Move everything to the rear hall, immediately!”

The strong female slaves responded and immediately set to work with nimble hands and feet. Meiduo rushed up to stop them but was pushed aside without mercy by the female slaves. Feng Zhiwei stood with hands behind her back watching, a trace of faint smile in her eyes. Good—it seemed that although Meiduo had spoiled herself into an empress dowager, the real empress dowager was still Liu Mudan.

Unable to stop them, Meiduo began shouting loudly. She shouted in the local grassland dialect. Feng Zhiwei couldn’t understand, but clearly they weren’t nice words, because in Empress Dowager Peony’s eyes, the same light as when she saw Keli had begun to shine.

The shouting alarmed Helian Zheng. He strode over. Seeing this chaos, he couldn’t help but freeze. Meiduo saw him and immediately rushed over like a plum blossom in rain, throwing herself into his arms, crying loudly, “Azha, back when I saved you, you all said you’d repay me for a lifetime. Now you won’t even let me continue living in one room!”

Feng Zhiwei frowned in disgust and exchanged glances with Hua Qiong. Both their eyes held contempt—demanding gratitude for a favor, endlessly, as if those past ten-plus years of princess-like treatment had all been for nothing?

Helian Zheng held Meiduo, pushing her slightly away, gently patting her back with a smile. “What big matter is this? How could we not let you stay? Just changing locations. Come, let’s look at the rear hall and choose the best room for you!”

“I want to stay right here! I want to stay right here!” Meiduo stamped her feet until they thundered.

Helian Zheng furrowed his brow and looked back at Feng Zhiwei questioningly.

Feng Zhiwei smiled slightly, thinking Helian Zheng was still somewhat obtuse. Calling someone “Aunt” for so many years, he really took her for his aunt—but she didn’t want to be your aunt.

“Fine.” She received Helian Zheng’s look and said lightly, “Then you stay right here.”

Everyone froze. Meiduo lifted her head from Helian Zheng’s arms, looking at her with some surprise. Feng Zhiwei looked at her completely dry eyes after all that commotion, her smile growing more gentle and mocking.

“You’re right—it’s just a room. Since you’ve developed feelings for it, asking you to move would really be inconsiderate. Just stay.”

Meiduo’s eyes widened with delight. She didn’t thank her but hugged Helian Zheng more tightly. “Azha, you’re so good, so good!”

“However, I don’t want to stay here.” Feng Zhiwei’s lazy sentence followed. “I rather prefer the rear hall. Helian Zheng, let’s move to the rear hall and let the Grand Consort and Aunt Meiduo stay here.”

Empress Dowager Peony laughed. Meiduo froze there.

“Also,” Feng Zhiwei didn’t even glance at her, already turning to leave, saying casually, “In view of the royal court being rather unstable recently, I feel it’s necessary to strictly manage palace security. From now on, the Great King’s and my residence will be under the responsibility of my dowry guards. Except for the Grand Consort and those personally permitted by me, any idle persons are not allowed to enter the rear hall sleeping quarters without authorization.”

Very clearly, Meiduo fell within that category of “idle persons.”

Feng Zhiwei left in a very good mood, thinking that thanks to Aunt Mei making such a fuss, at least she’d escaped from the Grand Consort’s arranged room that was shocking to heaven and made ghosts weep. The entire group followed her without hesitation, leaving only Meiduo standing stunned in the room, looking around in bewilderment.

After a long while, facing the room turned into a mess, she let out a howl and kicked the table over with one foot.

The small table rolled out, landing at someone’s feet, gently lifted by a pair of hands.

Meiduo turned her head to see the heavily pregnant Nata standing at the door with a smile.

Liu Mudan accompanied Feng Zhiwei to the rear hall, sighing heavily all the while. “Such a shame about my careful arrangements. Don’t you want me to move them over for you?”

“So beautiful—I’m afraid I’d be sleepless day and night looking at it.” Feng Zhiwei quickly refused. “Better that Peony Flower appreciates it yourself.”

Young Master Gu followed behind her holding Gu Zhixiao, with that pink five-legged rabbit tucked under his arm—because Gu Zhixiao liked it.

His appearance—robes flowing, topped with a monkey, holding a baby, clutching a rabbit—was extremely bizarre. All along the way, maids and female slaves looked at him with giggles. Young Master Gu was unconcerned—as long as Feng Zhiwei didn’t giggle at him, he felt this world was perfectly normal.

“Ah ah—” Gu Zhixiao suddenly cried out in his arms, straining her little body outward.

Opposite, a female slave walked over holding a baby. That child looked even smaller than Gu Zhixiao. Gu Zhixiao, rarely seeing a fellow creature, grew excited.

Helian Zheng had already rushed over joyfully. “Trumpet Flower, is this my little brother?”

Peony Flower had long since frozen there, looking at that tiny child, murmuring, “Huh? Not dead?”

Feng Zhiwei sighed… what kind of words were these?

“King, Grand Consort.” The female slave bowed to everyone. “Chamutu is growing very well. This slave just took him to the garden to see the flowers.”

“Called Chamutu?” Helian Zheng enthusiastically teased the child, hooking his tiny finger and shaking it. “Such strength! Good little brother!” He then took the child and handed him to Liu Mudan. “Aren’t you holding him?”

Liu Mudan’s hands dropped, making a retreating motion for an instant, then reacted and held the child.

She held that tiny bundle, her head deeply bowed looking at the child, her facial expression extremely complex.

From Feng Zhiwei’s angle, she could just see her slightly lowered eye corners reflecting the sunlight, as if something bright flashed.

But Gu Zhixiao was dissatisfied. She’d grown accustomed to Liu Mudan’s milk recently. Seeing her holding another child, she urgently cried “ah ah,” trying to lean over. Liu Mudan quickly embraced one with each arm, hugging them both tightly, pressing her face left and right against them, laughing cheerfully, “Want both, want both!”

The expression on her face had already returned to normal. She held the two children and shooed Helian Zheng away. “Don’t hang around here being sticky. Go entertain the clan leaders. Also, send someone to welcome Living Buddha Dama. No matter how stubborn that old man is, tie him up and drag him back on horseback. Don’t let him dawdle—long nights breed many dreams!”

“Trust your son!” Helian Zheng laughed in agreement, but said to Feng Zhiwei, “Trumpet Flower is tired. The two children can’t withstand being tossed about. Help keep an eye on things.”

Feng Zhiwei looked into his eyes and nodded. The expression on Peony Flower’s face instantly became somewhat unnatural as she turned her head away.

Feng Zhiwei followed her to arrange rooms, settling everyone nearby. The grasslands weren’t like the Central Plains—there was no division of inner and outer courtyards with men and women separated. One room per person counted as separation. Nata was arranged to stay between Zong Chen and Gu Nanyi. This arrangement made her face deathly pale.

Liu Mudan helped her arrange everything, then wanted to leave holding the children. Feng Zhiwei smiled warmly and asked her to stay for tea.

After drinking briefly, she said she needed the privy and wanted to leave holding the children. Feng Zhiwei smiled warmly reminding her there was no need to take the children to the privy—what if they fell in?

After returning from the privy, she said she missed the pond in the back garden, worried the female slaves would dirty it washing clothes, and wanted to go check, holding the children. Feng Zhiwei smiled warmly, taking the child and saying then I’ll hold Chamutu for you while you focus on looking at the water.

The mother and daughter-in-law smiled back and forth until evening. After eating dinner, Liu Mudan breathed a sigh of relief, holding Chamutu and saying, “Spent most of the day at your place. Now it’s really time to go back to sleep.”

“Go slowly, won’t see you out.” As soon as Feng Zhiwei spoke, she saw Liu Mudan’s eyes brighten, then she hurriedly rushed off as if her bottom were on fire.

Feng Zhiwei sat quietly there, listening to the grassland’s extraordinarily fierce wind sounds. In the distance, wolves’ howling calls transmitted mournfully, heart-rending.

After a while, she stood up. Young Master Gu was already waiting at the door with her cloak.

“How did you know I was going out?” Feng Zhiwei was somewhat surprised, turning her head to look at him.

Young Master Gu was silent for a moment, then said, “Troubled heart.”

This person who only cared about the one foot three inches in front of himself, who might not even blink if someone died before him, had actually sensed merely by feeling that she was troubled and going out?

Feng Zhiwei stared blankly at Gu Nanyi—from when did he begin changing in such subtle yet earth-shaking ways?

The cloak wrapped around her shoulders, thick and warm. Feng Zhiwei reached up to tie the strings. Not expecting it, Gu Nanyi was also trying to tie them for her from behind. Their fingers touched. Gu Nanyi quickly withdrew his hand.

He withdrew too quickly, making Feng Zhiwei pause again—he seemed more sensitive than before. In the past, let alone touching fingers, even if he grabbed her whole body and felt around, he wouldn’t have any reservations at all.

Could it be that his gradual awakening had to be related to her?

Feng Zhiwei pressed her lips together. For an instant her heart was tangled like hemp. She slowly tied the strings without turning back, saying softly, “Let’s go.”

Gu Nanyi didn’t speak, following behind her, taking out a walnut he hadn’t eaten in a long while due to caring for Gu Zhixiao, slowly eating it.

The walnut, whether from being stored too long or some other reason, had a somewhat astringent taste in his mouth, not as sweet and fragrant as usual.

That sort of stale, astringent taste made him think of Nanhai when she was gravely ill, him sleeping on the eaves in the rain, smelling the scent of green moss from all directions. He thought of that day in the heavy snow when she buried her relatives, him supporting her walking through the snowy ground, the scent the fresh snow released. He had looked back at the path they came from—in the vast snowy ground were only his and her two winding trails of footprints. At the end of the footprints were two lonely graves.

The walnut in his mouth thus lost its flavor. He still slowly finished eating it.

Some walnut bits fell on his fingers. He gently licked them away, the motion very slow. On his fingers, aside from the walnut fragrance, there seemed to be some other scent—faint, like midnight mist, elusive yet omnipresent.

He carefully smelled that scent on his fingers, his moist red lips gently touching…

Feng Zhiwei never turned back.

The moonlight was just so, spreading across the white stone path. He stayed one step behind her, his long shadow gently covering over hers.

The second Potala Palace was a very loosely arranged building without very strict security—this was due to the grassland people’s open and expansive nature.

The spacing between various rooms also lacked any system. Clearly, whenever Peony Flower participated in design, there would definitely be no system.

So turning past a low wall, one could see the Grand Consort’s bright red bedroom with its tightly closed row of long windows.

Peony Flower was someone who greatly enjoyed openness—wherever she went, she loved opening windows first. Today, however, she had shut her bedroom’s windows deadly tight.

Feng Zhiwei smiled slightly, seeing Peony Flower’s silhouette projected onto the window paper by the yak butter candles.

She held Chamutu, gently rocking and circling around the room, as if softly singing some song—the tune very soft, probably some lullaby.

All around was a faint floral fragrance—a type of small blue flower, unassuming but blooming luxuriantly with a riotous feeling. The moonlight was very clean, the wind very sweet. The lullaby sounds transmitted from within the window swayed like a small boat.

Everything was tranquil and beautiful. For that instant, Feng Zhiwei thought she was overthinking, misunderstanding Helian Zheng’s meaning.

Peony Flower sang her song, holding Chamutu. The song never ceased. While singing, she walked to the bedside, reaching out to pull down the bed curtain.

The leisurely song didn’t pause for a moment. One could vaguely hear the lyrics.

“…Little baby, like a little flower, blown by the wind, beaten by the rain…”

The moonlight quietly retreated somewhat. Cloud layers drifted over. In the corridor, shadows were deep and shallow. The song drifted leisurely. The lyrics were clearly very ordinary, yet somehow sounded somewhat eerie.

“…Blown by the wind, beaten by the rain…”

Liu Mudan sang while pulling out the wide sash binding the curtain.

“…Beaten by the rain…”

She wound the sash around one hand, forming it into a slipknot circle.

“…Beaten by the rain…”

Feng Zhiwei suddenly pushed open the door and walked in.

The song stopped abruptly. Liu Mudan turned back from the bedside in alarm.

In her hand she held the cloth circle tied into a slipknot. Her face was covered with tear tracks.

Those tears meandered at her eye corners, washing the thick powder into a mess.

Feng Zhiwei’s gaze slowly swept across her face, across that cloth sash, across Chamutu in her arms, sucking his finger and sleeping sweetly.

This mother shedding tears, singing songs, making a noose, preparing to loop it around her biological son’s neck!

“…Why…” After a long time, Feng Zhiwei asked her first question, shocked to find her voice hoarse upon speaking.

There was such a type of mother who always made one’s heart grow coldly fearful, not understanding the source of her love.

Liu Mudan looked at her in a daze, suddenly dropping her hand. The cloth sash fell to the ground. She seemed to have lost all strength, slumping dejectedly onto the bed, covering her face with both hands. After a long while, pearl-like teardrops flashed between her fingers.

“Chamutu cannot remain… None of my sons can remain…” She choked out, “Living Buddha Dama said that Zhadalan can be brothers, but if one day he cannot be brothers with them, his brothers will surely harm him…”

A chill suddenly rose in Feng Zhiwei’s heart. After a long while, she said, “Your seven dead sons…”

Liu Mudan only had sobs left.

Feng Zhiwei stepped back, looking at this woman who on ordinary days jested and flirted—it was this person who seemed forever carefree and thoughtless who, for the sake of her eldest son’s smooth growth, personally killed seven of her own children with her own hands?

“One cannot believe in superstitious nonsense.” Feng Zhiwei found her voice again after a long while.

Liu Mudan shook her head desperately. “No… it can’t be wrong. After Zhadalan’s third brother was born, he was so adorable I softened for a moment… That year Zhadalan fell from a cliff and nearly died…”

“I don’t understand.” Feng Zhiwei said slowly after a long time, “Why you must preserve Helian Zheng at the cost of abandoning so many lives that are equally your sons.”

“The Huozhuo tribe has a rule—the legitimate eldest son has the strongest claim to succession.” Liu Mudan said quietly, “The Huozhuo twelve tribes have a complex composition. Every generation’s succession involves bloodshed, sometimes even extending across several generations. The legitimate eldest son’s succession has the most appeal and can best make the tribes accept it, avoiding much strife. So as long as the legitimate eldest son isn’t an idiot, basically from birth the throne is his. Moreover, the year Zhadalan was born, the grasslands had a bountiful harvest and twin rainbows descended from heaven. Living Buddha Dama said it was an auspicious sign—this was a heaven-destined hero. Zhadalan cannot die.”

Her mournful narration sounded in the quiet night. The voice was minute, yet struck thunderous sounds in one’s heart. Feng Zhiwei stood for a long time, sighing and embracing her shoulders.

Liu Mudan threw herself against her, tears flowing like springs yet forcing herself to make no sound. Her thin shoulders thus trembled constantly, like a winter butterfly that had lost its wings, making it hard to believe that such frail shoulders silently, soundlessly bore the heavy responsibility of a tribe’s prosperity, bore seven innocent lives of her own flesh and blood.

Did her fingers reaching toward those children’s throats in the quiet night, children who smiled and trusted her, also spasm desperately like at this moment?

“…Chamutu… cannot remain… Kuku’s grasslands cannot fall into danger…” Liu Mudan’s tears had already soaked through Feng Zhiwei’s lapel, yet her tone gradually held more resolve. “This child—one look and you know his fate is strong… Conceiving him brought death to his father. The night I abandoned him in the royal court, enemies were everywhere, yet he rolled under the bed and remained safe. The maid afterward couldn’t find him—he might well have starved to death under the bed, but just as the maid entered the room to leave, he cried loudly… Such a strong fate, Zhadalan… cannot withstand…”

The room was completely quiet, only Liu Mudan’s low sobbing. Feng Zhiwei held her, looking up at the red and gold painted dome, her eyes helpless and sorrowful. Gu Nanyi stood at the door side, seeming to ponder deeply, not understanding why there were mothers who protected Gu Zhixiao beneath their bodies shielding her from death, and also mothers who held Chamutu in their arms sending him to death.

“No!”

A violent shout. Behind them suddenly arose a whirlwind. The whirlwind rushed near, snatching Chamutu from Liu Mudan’s arms and thrusting him into Feng Zhiwei’s embrace.

Helian Zheng had arrived.

“Mother!” He fell to his knees at the bedside with a thump, using his head to pound the bed edge repeatedly, so pained his voice changed. “Don’t kill Chamutu! My life—I won’t have little brothers use their lives to yield!”

“Zhadalan.” Liu Mudan, having vented, was emotionally calmer. She wiped her tears and snot, viciously rubbing them into the brocade bedding. “You don’t want it, but you must have it! So many have already been sacrificed—there’s no reason to fail at the last step!”

“No one can harm me!” Helian Zheng shouted loudly. “Don’t believe those things!”

“I know, ah, good boy, the last one, the last one now, ah.” Liu Mudan touched Helian Zheng’s face.

“No!”

If not for her heart full of sorrow, Feng Zhiwei would have nearly laughed aloud. This dialogue sounded truly like a mother coaxing her son to eat.

The grassland royal clan also had such deeply etched helplessness and desolation…

“This old lady has no time to waste words with you!” Liu Mudan, unable to persuade him for so long, suddenly changed her expression and kicked Helian Zheng over with one foot. “Before your father died, I promised to help him guard these grasslands and guard you, at any cost. If you dare nag me one more sentence, I’ll divorce your father and disown you!”

“A dead person—you can divorce him if you want, as long as you’re willing!” Helian Zheng also changed his expression. With a sharp sound, he drew his long blade and held it horizontally against his own neck. “This old master has had enough of trading lives for lives! I’ll return it to you right now! You can kill whoever you want!”

“You!” Liu Mudan’s brows stood on end, eyes wide.

“Me!” Helian Zheng’s fury made his hair stand up.

Suddenly someone lightly removed the blade from Helian Zheng’s hand.

“What’s all this shouting about, I say.” The one who removed the blade was Young Master Gu. The one speaking was Feng Zhiwei. She winked at Liu Mudan. “Grand Consort, look at this mess. Like this, making threats and wanting to kill face-to-face—who would agree? Long-term planning, long-term planning.”

Turning around, she winked at Helian Zheng again. “If you live well, won’t your mother stop worrying about you being harmed? What’s all this shouting about?”

Liu Mudan understood—daughter-in-law was hinting that killing now wouldn’t work, but later when she could help solve it.

Helian Zheng understood—wife was hinting that if he kept Chamutu in hand, mother couldn’t harm him.

Both felt relieved. They peacefully got up. Feng Zhiwei turned to leave. The child was naturally placed in Young Master Gu’s arms. “Raise him together with Gu Zhixiao.”

Those two hadn’t had time to say anything when distant clamoring sounds suddenly came.

An elderly voice panted urgently, “Quick, quick, quick, that Central Plains Han woman, quickly bring her to me…”

His words were drowned out by Chunyu Meng’s long, resonant announcement.

“Prince Chu’s eight-hundred-mile urgent gift, requesting delivery to the feet of Great King Consort Shunyi—”