That night the two of them left the city, avoiding the humiliating result of being driven out by others.

A few more days passed, and Shen Qingwu accompanied Zhang Xingjian to visit the last person on his list. Zhang Xingjian wrote to the princess, requesting a meeting.

Shen Qingwu asked, “Are you planning to go back and see the princess?”

Zhang Xingjian nodded.

Shen Qingwu said, “Then come with me somewhere first.”

Zhang Xingjian was surprised.

Throughout this entire journey together, Shen Qingwu had never once expressed a preference of her own. This was the first time she’d proposed something.

Zhang Xingjian said, intrigued, “You have somewhere you want to take me?”

Shen Qingwu nodded. “I really do have somewhere I want to take you.”

Zhang Xingjian’s heart lifted with pleasure—the world was vast, the mountains and rivers endless, and she, too, had somewhere she wanted to go. She’d factored herself into her own plans.

And what’s more, she would spend his birthday out here with him—far more delightful to him than any banquet his second sister might throw.

As they chatted, the two of them rode on horseback through open wilderness. One ahead, one behind, Zhang Xingjian urged his horse forward to catch up with Shen Qingwu’s.

Shen Qingwu didn’t look back.

And Zhang Xingjian, in good spirits now, wanted to bring up something that had been troubling him for days.

Leaning over his horse, he smiled at her. “Wutong, are you really set on choosing your own birthday—the eleventh of October?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Yes.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Do you know that doing this makes me uncomfortable?”

Shen Qingwu turned her face to look at his eyes, faintly smiling.

She could tell his mood had dimmed.

But—

Shen Qingwu said, “You were the one who said I should choose for myself. You were the one who suggested I pick the most memorable day.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “…What exactly is memorable about it?”

The breeze stirred the green leaves, brushing past Shen Qingwu’s eyes. A hazy sensation, blacking out her vision for a moment. Just as it had once, during a past she’d lived through.

Shen Qingwu answered, “That was the day I was reborn.”

She repeated, “I want to choose it as my birthday, so I’ll remember that day forever.”

In that instant, a dozen invisible blades plunged straight into Zhang Xingjian’s chest, leaving him speechless, his heart bleeding.

Once Shen Qingwu took an interest in something, it was genuinely hard to move her. Besides… he was the one at fault in that matter—to keep dwelling on it would only seem petty, and risk making her dislike him.

But the way Shen Qingwu was acting truly did feel like some kind of revenge.

Zhang Xingjian sulked for a good while before saying, “I have a friend who always considers his beloved’s feelings when he acts, treats his wife with the utmost care.”

Shen Qingwu glanced sideways at him.

Shen Qingwu said, flatly, “I have a friend too, who cares for his beloved in every way, would rather destroy himself than fail to protect the one he loves.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “…My friend has no clear identity. But your friend—somehow I get the feeling you really do have such a friend. Who is it?”

Shen Qingwu didn’t answer that.

She gazed off at the green mountains, her eyes holding the flow of a river. Her gaze chased the drifting dust, settling somewhere far away, and her mind occasionally drifted to Bo Rong—

Was he well, back in Dongjing?

Zhang Xingjian had said the Zhang Family would keep Bo Rong locked away indefinitely… if that were true, perhaps it counted as good news—

In Dongjing, storm clouds gathered over the whole city.

The good news was that the young emperor had woken.

The bad news was that the miracle physician the Shen Family had summoned had used an overly potent drug to rouse him from unconsciousness. Perhaps the young emperor might once have lingered on for months yet, but with this powerful drug in his system, he likely wouldn’t survive the month.

The palace city, the imperial city—the Imperial Guards scattered and subdued, officials confined to their homes, suppressed.

The Shen Family had never dared such boldness before, and yet now they were doing exactly this.

The young emperor Li Mingshu woke slowly from his stupor, his whole body numb, faint wisps of incense burning around the bed curtains. In his daze, he recalled the funeral of his late father and mother—

His sister had led him to kneel outside the curtains and weep; he hadn’t understood what death meant, and couldn’t manage real tears. His sister had pinched him, and he’d wailed loudly, and the ministers outside had been satisfied, praising him as a boy who would make a fine emperor.

And now… now…

A deathly cold, still, damp silence surrounded him.

Li Mingshu couldn’t move, could barely breathe, his mind clouded. Panic seized him; he couldn’t remember what day it was, couldn’t remember what had happened.

In his heart he cried out, screaming: Sister! Sister, save me! Someone means to kill me, save me, sister!

Li Mingshu, who had lived for years steeped in fear and greed, did not find the sister who had once protected him as a child. Instead, he heard footsteps.

Light, unhurried footsteps.

He heard the respectful voice of some official—somewhat familiar, somewhat not: “Marshal Bo, this way, please.”

The one speaking was Shen Zhuo; the one entering the hall was Bo Rong.

But Li Mingshu, lying beneath the golden bed curtains, couldn’t tell either of their voices apart—being emperor was too entertaining, holding the power of life and death too thrilling, and all the ministers had such similar faces that Li Mingshu had never bothered learning who was who.

A thin, withered man’s hand lifted the hanging curtain from outside.

Li Mingshu, lying on the dragon bed with only enough strength left to gasp for breath, opened his eyes wide in terror and saw a face he’d only ever seen in nightmares—

Bo Rong was a handsome man.

Well past middle age now, he’d lost the youthful spirit and delicate beauty of his younger years, but had gained instead a refined, cultured bearing, along with the grim, battle-hardened air forged on the battlefield.

This was the face Li Lingge could never forget.

It was also the face that left Li Mingshu drenched in cold sweat every time he woke at midnight from a nightmare.

This man, this man… was a ghost!

The ghost had come back to life!

Li Mingshu’s throat worked convulsively, and in his terror he found the strength to kick his legs, scrambling backward with all his might. He babbled incoherently, unable to form words, mumbling something only he himself could understand:

“It was my sister who killed your parents, not me! Everyone in the world knows it was my sister’s willfulness, insisting on marrying you, that got your parents killed—it had nothing to do with me, nothing to do with me…”

Bo Rong gazed at him, calm and still.

Bo Rong thought: Mother, Father, are you satisfied? This is the pathetic clown you wanted to protect.

He gave a silent laugh: whatever you wanted to protect, just watch me destroy it.

Bo Rong sat down at the edge of the bed, gentle and composed. “Your Majesty has woken? Your Majesty’s time is running short, and the throne cannot be left without an heir. Allow this humble subject to think of a solution for Your Majesty—

“Summon the princess back to the capital. Write an edict, issue the order, declare that the throne shall go to the princess—there’s no one in the world more fitting to inherit it than her. No matter how the ministers try to stop it, Your Majesty has always done as he pleased, hasn’t he? Always done whatever he wanted? Summon your sister back.”

Li Mingshu would rather die than yield.

Bo Rong smiled, faintly amused.

Bo Rong said, gentle, “Of course, this is a trap—summon her to Dongjing, then shut the doors and kill her. Once the princess is dead, no one remains to threaten you, and we can choose a more suitable heir to the throne instead. How does that sound?”

Li Mingshu’s eyes went wide, staring blankly at this man.

At first he’d been consumed with jealousy, thinking the Grand Tutor cared only for his sister, not for him at all. But the Grand Tutor had said… he meant to kill his sister too.

Could it be, could it be… that Zhang Rong meant to wipe out both siblings entirely?! To avenge his parents?

But—but—Li Mingshu carried a secret buried deep inside, one he dared tell no one: he knew that the Zhang parents had always favored him, and it was by exploiting their loyalty that he’d secured his throne in the first place.

And yet Zhang Rong had gone mad…

Had all this long stretch of time finally driven this man completely insane?

Sister, save me!

Li Mingshu was consumed with terror, feeling that the palace was no longer safe. If this man could walk straight into his bedchamber, why hadn’t the Imperial Guards reacted at all?

His mind reeling in chaos, Bo Rong held out something cold to him.

Li Mingshu saw, with a shock, that it was an edict—Bo Rong had already written it out for him. All he had to do was take the imperial seal, stamp it, and the edict would be sent out.

The former Grand Tutor had once taught the two royal siblings their letters; his handwriting was something both of them had admired, elegant and refined. Young and learned, he had even been able to imitate both siblings’ handwriting. Years later, Li Lingge’s handwriting had changed considerably, while Li Mingshu, who had never applied himself to his studies, still wrote in that same clumsy hand from childhood.

Bo Rong, entering the palace so brazenly, had seen the emperor’s handwriting once, and simply smiled.

Shen Zhuo, tense and flustered, had no idea what Bo Rong found so amusing, sitting alone in the imperial study, in the emperor’s very seat.

Shen Zhuo had even less idea that every single character on the edict Bo Rong presented to Li Mingshu sent a chill through his blood—Bo Rong had copied his handwriting perfectly, stroke for stroke.

Anyone who saw it would say the young emperor revered and adored his sister so deeply that he’d personally written out an edict summoning her back, going so far as to defy all reason and public opinion, insisting his sister take the throne.

Bo Rong gripped Li Mingshu’s hand, forced it around the cold jade seal, and pressed it down onto the edict.

Bo Rong could easily have stamped it himself, and yet he insisted on making Li Mingshu go through this exact motion.

Li Mingshu thought: madman, madman!

But how could a madman have such calm, dark eyes, such a warm, gentle smile?

Through years upon years of relentless self-examination, what exactly had Bo Rong come to see?—

Bo Rong walked out of the emperor’s bedchamber and handed the edict to a cold-sweating Shen Zhuo.

Bo Rong said, “Send it out.”

Shen Zhuo said, “You…”

He could no longer make sense of what Bo Rong was doing.

Bo Rong said, indifferent, “Li Mingshu is finished, and Li Lingge must die as well. Only once both of them are dead can the Shen Family install a true puppet emperor. Don’t you understand?

“Think of the blade Shen Qingwu drove into Li Mingshu, think of Shen Qingye fleeing her marriage to the empress… does the Shen Family have any other path left to choose?”

Shen Zhuo fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Marshal Bo, what should I do next?”

Bo Rong said, distracted, “Split the troops.

“Send the main force south, to meet the ‘greeting party’ from the Longyou army coming down from the south. Keep the loyal ones, the ones unafraid to die, here in the imperial city, waiting for war.”

He’d already spoken plainly enough that, aside from not understanding what Bo Rong was truly thinking, Shen Zhuo had nothing left to ask.

Shen Zhuo took the edict and left, glancing back once. In the darkness of night, he saw Bo Rong standing alone atop a high platform, gazing up at the bright, clear moon overhead.

The man standing on that high platform, his robes billowing in the wind, moved with a grace like a startled swan in flight.

He had once been an object of admiration, the most beautiful presence imaginable—and now, only the night still held onto that radiance—

Bo Rong gazed into the darkness, calculating the board, judging the players.

The palace gates opened, inviting his enemy into the trap.

This was a scheme laid bare, in plain sight.

The one who would sit across from him at the other end of the board, holding the pieces, would be Zhang Yuelu.

And there were two pawns.

One, Li Lingge. One, Shen Qingwu.

Both had once been his students.

Bo Rong thought: to teach a student to grow up quickly, you either had to kill them once, or die before their eyes.

If he won, he would fulfill the vengeance he’d once longed for, ending it all; if he lost, he would fulfill his other wish, and it, too, would end it all—

Shen Qingwu and Zhang Xingjian dismounted, arriving in the Miao borderlands.

Zhang Xingjian was dazed.

He’d followed Shen Qingwu the whole way, watching her try to describe, gesturing helplessly, the appearance of a young Miao woman she’d once known, unable to explain it clearly for the longest time.

Zhang Xingjian, behind her, added gently, “…It should have been about a month ago that she returned to the Miao borderlands.”

Shen Qingwu turned to look at him.

The young man being questioned suddenly understood. “I know who you’re looking for!”

Zhang Xingjian lowered his head, looking at Shen Qingwu’s hand gripping his wrist. In that same instant, he understood Shen Qingwu’s purpose—to remove the “heart-bound gu”—

Shen Qingwu said to Zhang Xingjian, “You’ve been sick for so long, all because of the ‘heart-bound gu.’ I’ve wanted to have it removed for a long time now.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Removing a gu is expensive. I don’t have the money.”

Shen Qingwu was surprised he’d say such a thing.

Shen Qingwu said, “I’ve been saving up for a long time.”

Zhang Xingjian fell silent.

He said, “…You’ve wanted to do this for a long time, haven’t you?”

Shen Qingwu didn’t answer, because just then, the young man leading them called out a greeting, and a girl’s voice, clear and bright as an oriole’s, came running out from a nearby house:

“Who’s here? Coming!”

The lovely young Miao woman’s eyes went wide at the sight of the two of them; she broke into a smile at once and dashed back inside. “Father, Mother, we’ve got guests!”—

The young Miao woman’s parents—her father was Han Chinese, her mother was Miao.

Hearing that these two were the very couple their daughter’s “heart-bound gu” had left in such a sorry state, they immediately shot their daughter a glare.

The girl said, “I haven’t been home in over a year, all because I’ve been out there keeping the gu suppressed for him—exhausted me half to death!”

The woman scolded her daughter, then invited the guests to sit and, after taking their pulses, told them carefully, “My daughter caused trouble and put a gu on the two of you—naturally it’s our responsibility to remove it… we won’t take any payment from you.

“But when the gu was placed, the mother-gu entered the body first, so when it’s removed, the mother-gu must also leave first… it may be somewhat painful.”

Shen Qingwu was satisfied. “I can bear it.”

Zhang Xingjian looked at her, about to speak, then stopped himself.

Shen Qingwu said, “My body’s in better condition than his, his is weaker than mine. If removing the gu is painful, it should be me who bears it. I was the one who forced the gu on him in the first place. Naturally, today I should be the one to bear the pain of removing it too.”

The Miao woman said, “We’ll need to draw a little blood…”

Shen Qingwu nodded. “I…”

Zhang Xingjian stood up. “Wutong, let’s talk.”—

Zhang Xingjian pulled a confused Shen Qingwu outside, his face uncharacteristically grave, no trace of a smile in his eyes.

Only once they’d reached a spot behind some trees, away from the others, did Zhang Xingjian stop, turn, and ask, “This place you wanted to bring me—this is it?”

Shen Qingwu nodded.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Just to remove the gu?”

Shen Qingwu nodded.

Zhang Xingjian asked, “Why?”

Shen Qingwu was confused.

Shen Qingwu answered, “I was the one who originally forced the gu on you, put you through hell for so long. I might be a bit slow, but I’m not stupid—of course I could see how much you suffered because of it. Now that you say you have no other business left and can go back to see the princess, shouldn’t we finally remove the gu?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Are you removing the gu because you want to leave me?”

Shen Qingwu was taken aback.

She said, “Why would you think that?”

His brows knit together, a trace of irritation on his face. This emotion rarely showed on him; even now, forcing himself to suppress it, some trace of it still leaked through.

Zhang Xingjian said softly, “The heart-bound gu requires that you and I stay within a certain distance, that we not be separated too long from each other. You never used to care about that at all. Now, suddenly, you do—what am I supposed to think? Are you planning to leave me?”

Confusion, panic, and bewilderment showed in his eyes.

He murmured, “Where have I gone wrong?

“Didn’t you say you’d try things out with me?

“Is it because I told you to pick your own birthday, and it reminded you of what happened back then, and you’re upset again? Is it because I made you talk to a stranger, and you felt I was forcing you, and you resent it? Is it…”

He rattled off example after example.

Shen Qingwu was taken aback.

She knew she’d always been careless, and knew Zhang Xingjian had always been meticulous. But she hadn’t realized just how many moments—moments she herself had already forgotten—he still remembered.

He was constantly scrutinizing her, watching her, turning her over in his mind again and again… wasn’t this bordering on obsession?

The world always called her a madwoman.

But this side of Zhang Xingjian—didn’t it carry its own kind of obsession too?

She had told him so many times, and still he couldn’t find peace.

That rainy autumn night of the nineteenth year of Tianlong had tormented her for years—and now, years later, had it begun tormenting Zhang Xingjian without end as well?

Shen Qingwu thought, dazed: he loves me—

He adores me.

He’s devoted to me.

He’s madly in love with me.

He has a possessiveness toward me that he’s never dared put into words.

In this moment, Shen Qingwu believed him completely—he hadn’t lied to her, he really did love her to the point of madness—

Zhang Xingjian held her hand, pleading softly. “Wutong, say something.”

Shen Qingwu stayed silent, a faint smile beginning to form.

Her eyes shone brilliantly as she tilted her face up to look at him. Beneath the treetops, the wind rose like a tide, fallen blossoms drifting down like rain. Her hair blew against her cheek, lending her a rare, gentle beauty.

But even as lovely as she looked, her eyes this bright, Zhang Xingjian still wanted an answer—

Zhang Xingjian said softly, “Wutong, let’s just go, shall we? Let’s not remove the gu, all right?”

Shen Qingwu said, “No.”

She looked up at him. “I can’t always be by your side. It’ll hurt you.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I’m willing to endure that pain.”

Shen Qingwu said, “But I’m not willing to let you.”

The young Miao woman, waiting impatiently at the door for them to finish their discussion, called out, “Hey, Miss Shen, Young Master Zhang, have you two decided—are we removing the gu or not?”

Just as Zhang Xingjian turned to refuse, Shen Qingwu clapped a hand over his mouth from behind. Sensing this coming, he twisted his wrist to pry her off; she clung on tighter. Knowing he couldn’t overpower her, he tried to step back and leave. Shen Qingwu pursued relentlessly, catching his wrist.

Zhang Xingjian said sharply, “I don’t need the gu removed.”

Shen Qingwu said, stubborn, “You do.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I…”

A cold gleam flashed in his sleeve; it looked as though blades might be drawn. Shen Qingwu had no wish to fight him, nor did she want to waste too much effort subduing him. She was still taking her medicine and didn’t want to use internal energy.

Shen Qingwu, brisk and decisive, chopped the side of his neck with the edge of her hand, knocking him unconscious, and caught him as he fell.

The Miao family nearby watched, utterly stunned.

Shen Qingwu looked down at the young gentleman in her arms and said, “Zhang Yuelu, watch me handle this.”

She looked up and called out to the family, loudly, “We’ll go ahead with removing the gu!”—

When Zhang Xingjian woke, everything had already been settled, and he was told the “heart-bound gu” had been removed.

Uneasy, he rushed out of the house. In front of the wooden building, he saw Shen Qingwu, her back turned to him; she hadn’t left, and his heart relaxed enormously.

Zhang Xingjian called, “Wutong—”

He ran toward her.

Shen Qingwu turned.

Zhang Xingjian grabbed her hands, looking her over from head to toe. He couldn’t help embracing her, checking for any trace of blood on her—the Miao woman had said blood would need to be drawn.

Zhang Xingjian frowned. “Does it hurt? Are you uncomfortable anywhere? This is all your fault—”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes curved, letting him hold her.

A cough sounded from nearby.

Chang Lin’s voice stretched out, awkward. “My lord, I’m right here—can you not see me?”

Zhang Xingjian, still holding Shen Qingwu, glanced up at him once.

Chang Lin felt that this normally good-tempered young lord looked, in that instant, as though he wanted to kill him.

Chang Lin said, “…”

Chang Lin thought: my lord has changed. He used to like Shen Qingwu, sure, but never to this extent—now there’s no room left in his eyes for anyone else.

As Chang Lin sulked, Shen Qingwu was the one who finally spoke. “Zhang Yuelu, he’s here to see you about something. Go talk to him.”

Shen Qingwu forcibly pushed Zhang Xingjian off and walked some distance away. Chang Lin privately applauded Shen Qingwu for finally showing some sense—only to catch Zhang Xingjian shooting him another cold, indifferent glare.

Chang Lin said, “…”—

Zhang Xingjian thought to himself: Chang Lin really is starting to get on my nerves, isn’t he—

Someone getting on your nerves, of course, always has their reasons.

Chang Lin had fought his way out of the encirclement around Dongjing, dodged pursuing troops, traveled a thousand li while wounded countless times, all to deliver the latest news to his lord—

“Every wine shop, tea house, and pawnshop we use to pass messages has been sealed off! It was Marshal Bo who did it! He knows the layout of the Zhang Family’s businesses far too well—he’s working with the Shen Family now, and the Shen Family has completely become his lapdog—I truly don’t know what they were thinking!”

Zhang Xingjian said, indifferent, “That’s to be expected.”

The Shen Family had suffered losses for years now; of course they’d go looking for a new way forward.

But Bo Rong would never give the Shen Family a way forward.

Bo Rong would only destroy everything.

Chang Lin said, sullen, “Anyway, everything’s in chaos now. Dongjing is far too dangerous at the moment—it’s become the Shen Family’s personal fiefdom, which really means Bo Rong’s personal fiefdom. All the ministers, all the troops, have been separated and imprisoned. Dongjing can’t even muster a proper force anymore, and the Shen Family has crushed everything down.

“The Shen Family’s even mobilized the Longyou army…”

Zhang Xingjian nodded. “Using the tiger tally without authorization—sounds like they’re courting death.”

Chang Lin said, “My lord, this is no time for jokes. My lord, what do you think Marshal Bo intends to do?”

Zhang Xingjian closed his eyes lightly.

Zhang Xingjian said, “If I were him, I would—”—

In the Yizhou army camp, Li Lingge received an edict declaring the throne would pass to her.

This edict, spreading throughout the realm, would soon reach the Miao borderlands as well—

Li Mingshu wished to abdicate in favor of Li Lingge, summoning her to the capital to ascend the throne and accept the edict.

Upon receiving it, Li Lingge pressed one hand to her temple, the other lightly tapping the desk.

She burst out laughing.

As she rose to her feet, the wild, tangled ambition in her eyes blazed to life: this was her chance.

Even if it were a trap laid to catch her, so long as she succeeded, she would be the one who won!

Lose, and she’d be torn apart; win, and she’d hold the whole realm in her hands.

She was mad, and she meant to enter the game, to test the enemy’s sharpest edge—

Teacher, do you want to beat me? Then kill me.

Teacher, and if you lose to me instead? Then I get to do whatever I please—

At night, in the Miao borderlands, untouched by the troubles of the Central Plains.

The young men and women there danced through the water, singing, and invited Zhang Xingjian to join them; he declined gently.

He found Shen Qingwu by the water’s edge instead, idly splashing water alone, looking bored.

Shen Qingwu was entertaining herself, playing happily on her own. He came and sat down on the damp grass beside her; she only glanced back at him once before continuing to toss stones into the water.

Zhang Xingjian said, thoughtfully, “Wutong, how’s your medicine going?”

Shen Qingwu said, casually, “The medicine for my internal injuries? I’ve been taking it the whole time. Don’t you check on me every day?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “How many more days left?”

Shen Qingwu said, “…Hm, about ten more days or so, why?”

She sensed something behind his question, and, remembering how she’d pressed him earlier to get the gu removed, worried he might be troubled by something. She glanced back at him, quietly—

She might not always be able to tell when something was on his mind.

But she always looked, all the same.

The handsome, elegant young gentleman sat propped on the grass, chin in hand, watching her with a smile, his brows and eyes clear and lovely, looking every bit as fine and refined as usual, not at all like someone with something weighing on him.

Zhang Xingjian asked, “Wutong, would you rather Bo Rong live, or die?”

Shen Qingwu froze.

Shen Qingwu guessed that Chang Lin must have told him something.

Shen Qingwu asked, “Something’s happened in Dongjing?”

Zhang Xingjian nodded.

Shen Qingwu asked further, “Is it serious? Can you handle it?”

Zhang Xingjian laughed softly. “I can handle it—but tell me, would you rather Bo Rong live, or would you rather he die?

“Wutong, whatever you say, I’ll do.”

Shen Qingwu slowly turned her shoulder away, gazing at the green water plants, at the ripples spreading across the lake’s surface.

She said softly, “I don’t care about him anymore. I’ve already done everything I owed him. You shouldn’t have to ask me that.”

Zhang Xingjian said softly, “If I turn my blade against him—Wutong, if he and I push each other off a cliff together—which one would you want to live?”

He said, gentle, “If you want him to live, then I’ll save him. I will save him, without fail.”

Even if it cost him everything, he would fulfill Shen Qingwu’s wish.

Shen Qingwu sensed something.

She stayed quiet, subdued, tossing her stones.

Just as Zhang Xingjian had begun to think he wouldn’t hear an answer at all, he heard Shen Qingwu say, softly, “You.”

An overwhelming tide of feeling crashed over him, swallowing Zhang Xingjian whole.

This moment, precious and endless, felt almost like an auditory hallucination, and yet he already felt he could die without regret.

Zhang Xingjian said, stunned, “What?”

Shen Qingwu, still with her back to him, kept tossing stones.

The ripples spreading across the lake’s surface were her feelings made visible. She didn’t turn to look at him.

Her voice was very low, but clear: “I want you to live.”

Light wavered in Zhang Xingjian’s eyes for an instant, then brimmed full, like a lake.

An overwhelming surge of emotion struck him, leaving him suddenly cold, then suddenly hot all over. He sat frozen, the hand propping up his chin growing cold, while his heart burned like fire.

Shen Qingwu wanted the gu removed, and yet she hadn’t left him; Shen Qingwu said she’d choose him, seemed to no longer care about Bo Rong; Shen Qingwu had chosen her birthday to mark the day she broke with him, not the day she’d met Bo Rong—did all this mean, did it mean…

Shen Qingwu heard Zhang Xingjian’s voice from behind her, trembling: “Wutong…”

His breathing had grown unsteady.

Dew clung to his long lashes as he forced himself to stay composed. “Wutong, are you—are you…”

He laughed, a little nervous, a little stiff: “Have you ever wondered whether you, too, might…”

“Yes, I have,” Shen Qingwu said, turning back to meet his eyes. “I might love you very much.”

At sixteen, Shen Qingwu had walked resolutely into a rainy night.

At nineteen, Shen Qingwu had leapt into his arms during the Lantern Festival.

At twenty, Shen Qingwu had been found by him on a vast, endless snow mountain, carried on his back the whole way.

At twenty-one, Shen Qingwu had traveled a thousand li to find Zhang Xingjian, imprisoned him, told him she meant to trap him, to have him.

At twenty-two, Shen Qingwu had leapt off a cliff, resolute, swearing she would never forgive him.

At twenty-three, Shen Qingwu, amid the fine rain and bloodshed of Dongjing, had been pulled along by Zhang Xingjian’s hand as they fled together.

Seven years.

Seven years of feeling, weaving all those stories into thread, dense and countless, spun into a net of love.

Shen Qingwu had walked, step by step, into its center.

In this moment, heaven and earth fell utterly silent.

Shen Qingwu gave him her clear, definite answer: “That’s love, not simple fondness. I’ve thought about it for a long time, and I’m certain—I love you, just as you love me. I used to think what I felt was only stubborn refusal to accept defeat.

“But it wasn’t that. It was love.”

She was drawn into Zhang Xingjian’s embrace.

Night fell like ink, fireflies flickering, the lake clear and still; across the water, the playful songs of the Miao youths drifted, faint and intermittent.

Zhang Xingjian knelt on the damp grass by the water, drawing Shen Qingwu into his arms. Trembling, he tilted her chin up.

He cupped the back of her head, turned his face aside, and pressed several soft, restrained kisses to her temple.

Zhang Xingjian looked down at her.

He thought back over so much of the past.

He had once longed for her love, believing that if only she loved him, she would walk through fire for him—he had wanted that fierce, all-consuming kind of love.

But now—

Zhang Xingjian thought, now he understood: when you truly loved someone, you couldn’t bear to watch them walk through fire at all. When you truly loved someone, all you wanted was for them to stay safe, untouched by harm.

His eyes curved into a smile.

Shen Qingwu, imitating him, curved her eyes back at him.

He reached out and stroked the corner of her eye, murmuring, “Wutong, let’s make a bet—if I can put an end to all this scheming chaos within a month, will you marry me?”—

That night, on the creaking bamboo bed in the Miao borderlands, the two of them made enough noise to leave Chang Lin, in the next room, staring helplessly up at the ceiling.

The next day, Shen Qingwu woke to find her hands and feet bound with long strips of cloth. She sat up from the bed—and immediately fell right back down.

Zhang Xingjian was gone.

Shen Qingwu punched the bamboo bed once, and from outside the door came Chang Lin’s trembling voice:

“General Shen, please don’t get worked up. Just hear me out—my lord left a message for you.

“My lord said he has to return to Dongjing first. But he can’t take you with him—it’s too dangerous, and he doesn’t want you fighting. Your medicine still has a few more days left, doesn’t it? My lord said I should stay with you…”

Shen Qingwu fell silent, stunned, and then went still.

So—

Was she, in effect, under house arrest by Zhang Xingjian?