The moon hid, shy, behind the clouds.

Heaven and earth fell utterly silent.

Shen Qingwu said, “No one’s there.”

Zhang Xingjian urged softly, “Go look again.”

So Shen Qingwu poked her head out from the alley’s mouth, studying the thick darkness carefully for a long moment, then reported, quite earnestly, to her partner in mischief: “Truly, no one’s there.”

And so Shen Qingwu emerged first, then hauled her dawdling husband out from his state of disarray.

The deep alley was empty, though the lantern light hung dim.

Looking at Zhang Xingjian, Shen Qingwu couldn’t help but laugh.

He’d already straightened his clothes, but his whole mind was still dazed and hazy. The young man’s neck was flushed a deep red, glowing under the lantern light like a plum blossom blooming brilliant against the snow. His hairpin had at least been reset properly, though bits of leaf clung in his hair.

Earlier, he had fixed her collar; now she fixed his in turn.

But she wasn’t nearly as patient as he’d been—she straightened him only carelessly, leaving the leaves still tangled in his hair, his eyes still misty, the moisture on his fluttering lashes gleaming like silverfish light.

At this moment, something flickered in Shen Qingwu’s eyes.

Zhang Xingjian was still dazed, as though he’d just fought his way out of deep water and raging fire.

Shen Qingwu found herself thinking back on their little escapade.

He’d been so flustered and clumsy, so nervous—the more tense he grew, the more intensely he felt it. And the more intensely he felt it, the harder it was for him to come back to himself.

What kind of look had that been in his eyes?

A clear lake beneath the moonlight, its rippling light seeming to beg her for just one glance—and Shen Qingwu felt herself nearly losing her senses over it.

She led him to a different spot; he followed along readily enough. The two of them slipped from the alley’s edge to a low hedge nearby, and amid the rustling, they could hear the sound of the Bian River’s water lapping.

Water flowed through heaven and earth, and through both their hearts as well…

Zhang Xingjian’s hoarse voice broke into Shen Qingwu’s reverie. “What are you thinking about?”

Shen Qingwu only smiled, saying nothing.

Seeing her like that, Zhang Xingjian couldn’t help but laugh too.

Zhang Xingjian sighed. “You just wanted this, didn’t you? You’re happy now, aren’t you?”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes curved, and she declared plainly, “Yes.”

She studied him. “Can you even still walk?”

Zhang Xingjian shot her a glare.

But there was still laughter in his eyes.

He didn’t dislike any of this—shyness and curiosity coexisting, he found it all rather fun as well.

Solemnly, Zhang Xingjian clenched his fist and gave a low cough. “Let’s go home.”

He flicked his sleeve, brushing past her, and led the way ahead.

The moonlight lay silver and pure across him now, nobility and decadence intertwined upon him at once.

Shen Qingwu clasped her hands behind her back, bouncing along after him, step by step.

She spoke up, delighted: “That was fun, wasn’t it? There’s more fun to be had—you pick next! Whatever you want me to go along with, I will…”

Zhang Xingjian, walking ahead, suddenly stopped.

Shen Qingwu walked straight into his back.

Her rare burst of chattiness cut off, she stumbled back a step or two, dazed, and rubbed her forehead where she’d bumped it.

But she didn’t care in the least that she’d been the one hurt—she blinked at him instead, silently asking whether her own considerable strength had injured him.

Zhang Xingjian thought: how adorable.

His heart softened, again and again, at her unwitting little acts. He kept trying more provocative methods to draw her in, and it seemed, for now, that Shen Qingwu really had been thoroughly delighted.

Zhang Xingjian said, wistful, “You’re about to leave the capital—what will you play with me before you go?”

Shen Qingwu said, as though it were obvious, “Wait until I come back.”

Seeing him fall silent, and then, as he lowered his head, noticing the red marks she’d left on his wrist from her grip.

Shen Qingwu thumped her chest, promising, “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

Zhang Xingjian’s eyelids lifted slightly, and he studied her for a moment.

He said softly, “Where’s your shoe?”

Shen Qingwu froze.

Zhang Xingjian crouched down in front of her and lifted the hem of her skirt; as she tried to dodge, he caught her by the ankle.

She had only one embroidered shoe left—the other had gone missing somewhere along the way. She’d walked this whole path behind him without giving any sign of it, but he’d caught the wrongness in her footsteps.

Zhang Xingjian held her by the ankle as Shen Qingwu hopped back, dodging, until she pressed against the wall.

Shen Qingwu said, “You’re going to knock me over!”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Aren’t your legs supposed to be steady? Bear with it.”

Bearing with it, then.

Shen Qingwu leaned against the wall, watching him crouch on the ground and rest her bare, shoeless, sockless foot against his knee. A man usually so fastidiously clean, he wiped the sole of her foot with the white undershirt from his own sleeve.

Shen Qingwu’s expression turned awkward.

Her feet were absolutely not attractive.

The countless big and small scars her years in the military had left on her body were bound to show through, whenever things turned intimate.

Shen Qingwu had to admit—of everything on her body, her face was probably the only thing that could be called pretty. Why didn’t Zhang Xingjian spend more time looking at her best feature?

Zhang Xingjian always seemed to seize on exactly the parts of their marriage she’d rather keep hidden—

examining her scars, her body, and now, her foot.

Shen Qingwu said, “Pervert.”

Zhang Xingjian said gently, “Can I compare to you?”

Shen Qingwu changed the subject, deflecting. “Could you really tell just from the sound of my footsteps that I wasn’t wearing a shoe? Is your martial skill really that good?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Is that really the reason my martial skill is so good?”

Shen Qingwu considered this.

She lowered her eyes, saying nothing.

She thought she knew the answer.

Her heart pounded, her blood surging again. Not the same kind of exhilaration from earlier—this burning sensation blazing in her chest wasn’t new, and it burned hot enough to almost hurt—

She used to think this feeling was called “resentment.”

Later, she came to understand—it was love.

She truly did love Zhang Xingjian, wanted to be with him every single moment.

Shen Qingwu began to feel a pang of regret over her upcoming trip out of the capital.

Across the vast, boundless world, she had wandered and drifted, searching for a place to belong. Now, as the moon settled upon the parasol tree, she had abandoned her once-boundless longing for freedom, broken her own oath, and chosen to let him into her world.

He would never hurt her again.

Lost in thought, Shen Qingwu heard Zhang Xingjian look up and scold, “Where’s your shoe?”

Shen Qingwu answered, distracted, “I dropped it somewhere near the Bian River, I think. I don’t know.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Your eyesight is so good, why didn’t you go back for it?”

Shen Qingwu said, “I saw you flustered and trying to hurry off, worried you’d fall into the river, so of course I followed you instead.”

Zhang Xingjian paused, faintly startled, and looked up at her.

He said, slowly, “Well then, there are a few options now.”

Still with a few mischievous thoughts of her own, Shen Qingwu said, offhand, “Go on.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “One, we go back and look for your shoe.”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

He added, “But, ahem, given how much of a commotion we caused, your shoe might have been swept away by the mud and water—not easy to find.”

Shen Qingwu stayed silent.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Two, you wear my shoes.”

Shen Qingwu immediately refused. “No.”

She wouldn’t have him walking barefoot.

He wasn’t like her.

She felt an unreasoning protectiveness toward him, wanting to keep him looking pristine and unspoiled. She wanted, at once, to stain him with all sorts of messy colors, and also to spare him from suffering even the slightest injury.

Things were different now than they used to be.

Zhang Xingjian said, slow and smiling, “Then, there’s a third option—Wutong, why don’t I carry you home on my back?”

Shen Qingwu froze.

Crouched on the ground, tilting his face up at her, the young man smiled, propping his chin in his hand, blinking at her.

Shen Qingwu said, “Can your back even handle that?”

Zhang Xingjian said, feigning outrage, “Are you doubting your own husband’s capabilities? Who was it that was enjoying herself so much earlier?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Tomorrow your back is going to ache, you’ll be in pain.”

Zhang Xingjian sighed. “Wutong, must you be so blunt about it—you’re making me embarrassed. Is it my fault my body isn’t as sturdy as yours?”

Other men’s husbands had some pride too, surely.

Who else discussed with their wife every other day whether their back ached, whether they were tired?

But their own Wutong was simply different from everyone else—whatever she noticed, she said straight to him. Fortunately, for now, he was the only one she cared to say such things to.

Shen Qingwu added, “I’m very heavy, you know.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Heavy as Mount Tai crumbling? I’ve carried you before, haven’t I?”

Shen Qingwu muttered, “That’s not the same thing.”

She felt so much tenderness for him right now!

And so much shyness, too!

He was going to carry her!

Like a young girl in the first blush of love, she leapt onto his back, letting him hoist her up.

The feeling was novel for both of them.

Shen Qingwu leaned against his back, nuzzling into his faintly sweaty neck, gazing intently at his profile.

The alley stretched on, so long.

Shen Qingwu spoke up suddenly. “Zhang Yuelu, I think… you’re especially good to me.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I’m just that kind of person.”

Shen Qingwu said, “You’re not.”

Zhang Xingjian: “…”

Shen Qingwu said, “It’s like you’re trying to hold onto something, like you’re afraid of something… I’ve thought about it for a long time and I still can’t work it out. So I’m just going to ask directly—what are you afraid of?”

Zhang Xingjian was silent for a moment.

He smiled. “It’s really nothing—just my old suspicious streak acting up again. You know I’ve always been this way. It’s nothing, I’ll settle myself down on my own. Has it been affecting you?”

Her warm head, pressed against him, shook, her breath brushing his neck, hot and ticklish.

Shen Qingwu said, “I don’t care what you’re thinking about. Once you’ve figured it out, just tell me. I want to know what’s really in your heart.”

She admitted, “I want you to be a little happier.”

Zhang Xingjian said gently, “I am happy.”

Shen Qingwu said, “Then be even happier.”

Zhang Xingjian thought: how blunt of her.

He smiled faintly.

Shen Qingwu added, “And also—I’ve made up my mind. I’ve come up with a bad idea.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Against me?”

Arms wrapped around his neck, she gave a brief, “Mm.”

Zhang Xingjian blushed.

He thought, surely she wasn’t planning to do this and that to him again… oh dear.

Zhang Xingjian said, quietly, “What’s the bad idea?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Not telling you.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “…So you’re just giving me advance warning?”

Shen Qingwu said, “Mm.”

What a woman full of personality, truly.

Amused, Zhang Xingjian teased, “Then I’ll just have to be on my guard against you.”

Shen Qingwu said magnanimously, “Go ahead and guard yourself. If you can’t guard against it, you’re mine.”

After that night, Zhang Xingjian grew even busier, and even his chances to see Shen Qingwu grew sparse.

He’d said that night was the prelude to a gift. But when Shen Qingwu saw no follow-up from him for a long while, she simply decided to treat that night as the entire gift itself, and found she was quite pleased with this year’s birthday present.

Zhang Xingjian was run ragged with work, and she didn’t mind at all.

She went to see the Female Emperor.

In the Chongde Hall, she made her request to leave the capital known: “I can carry out this mission for you, but I want to bring Zhang Yuelu along with me. As compensation, you can pile more work onto me. I insist on taking him with me when I go.”

Li Lingge looked up from the mountain of scrolls before her, and gazed at Shen Qingwu in silence.

Fine lines had begun to gather at the corners of Li Lingge’s eyes; since ascending the throne, her features had changed a great deal, growing colder, more sealed off from the world.

An emperor stood utterly alone. Li Lingge had shut away every trace of her own feelings—the rare moments her composure slipped were, without fail, in front of Shen Qingwu.

Having this one woman general remaining at court made Li Lingge feel she wasn’t entirely alone.

She trusted Shen Qingwu—genuinely, far more than she trusted any of those forever scheming to unseat her from the throne.

Surrounded on all sides by enemies, Shen Qingwu alone stood like a blade at her side. Shen Qingwu was her weapon—her weapon to hold Zhang Xingjian in check, her weapon to protect herself.

Sometimes, she found herself envying Shen Qingwu.

Shen Qingwu had had Zhang Rong as her teacher, and now had Zhang Xingjian as her husband.

While Li Lingge, on top of handling state affairs every single day, had to face ministers pressuring her to marry, ministers prying into questions of an heir, and members of the imperial clan stirring with restless ambition.

And now, Shen Qingwu was telling her she wanted to take Zhang Xingjian away too.

Just like…

Li Lingge gazed at Shen Qingwu, calm and quiet.

Li Lingge said, “How can the sitting Chancellor leave the capital without cause?”

Shen Qingwu said, “I’m giving you fair warning. You can find a way to handle it, or you can squeeze more work out of me instead.”

After a long moment, Li Lingge said, “I cannot openly support you in this—do you understand what I mean?”

Shen Qingwu’s eyes brightened.

She understood.

Once Li Lingge had finished discussing state affairs with the General and laying out what needed doing, Shen Qingwu withdrew from the hall, and Li Lingge sat alone in the vast, empty, towering hall, lost in thought.

Once, she had hoped for that person to stay by her side.

She waited in silence.

She hoped that, one day, word would reach her—that Zhang Rong had faked his death once again, deceived her once again, that he had fled to some distant corner of the world, far, far away from her, that he simply didn’t love her, despised her, was disgusted by her, and wanted nothing to do with her.

Then she could go on being the willful, selfish person she’d always been—seizing, coercing, whatever it took, she was capable of it all.

But three years had passed.

Not a single word from Zhang Rong.

Everyone she’d sent out told her the same thing: Zhang Rong was dead. What they didn’t dare say was—he’d died right in front of Your Majesty, you saw it yourself with your own eyes, what exactly are you still trying to find out?

How many more years could Li Lingge go on waiting for Zhang Rong?

She truly could not bring herself to accept that he was dead.

Yet in her dreams at midnight, it was never that night of rivers of blood, the young princess kneeling on the ground weeping, begging him; it was him pushing her off a cliff, his brows calm and gentle; or him standing amid a sea of flames, leaping down before her eyes.

In her dreams, over and over, she tried desperately to reach him. The closest she ever came, she truly did manage to embrace him. Overwhelmed with joy, she wept—only for the person in her arms to crumble into ashes once again.

Li Lingge sat in silence for a long, long while.

Bo Rong’s resolute refusal had left her with a lesson too deep, a wound too deep, to forget.

It had also taught her that no matter how boundless her power, she could never make anyone else a substitute for Bo Rong. This road she walked had reached its end; looking back, the only person she still wished to keep by her side remained only him.

But why exactly had it come to this?

Li Lingge sat quietly upon the cold throne, expressionless, gazing at the topmost memorial on her desk—one urging her to hold a selection of consorts, for the sake of an heir.

She slowly reached out, running her fingers over each word written on the memorial.

Li Lingge closed her eyes, indifferent: “…Begin the selection.”

…She would never love again.

And this path of being Female Emperor, she had no choice but to walk to its end—there was no turning back.

So be it, then.

In the end, she would become the kind of ruler Bo Rong had always expected of her—

perhaps stripped of all personal preference and feeling was, after all, exactly what her teacher had asked of her.

That year, in the twelfth month—usually the last month when officials began to relax—Shen Qingwu instead received an imperial decree and left the capital with it in hand.

Still, Shen Qingwu had not managed to see her husband, even once.

She didn’t dwell on it.

The soldiers accompanying her out of the capital were selecting provisions and horses, poring over maps to discuss their destination, and a captain came hurrying after her:

“General Shen…”

Shen Qingwu said, “You’re in charge of this. I’m going to attend to some private business.”

The captain, anxious, said, “We’re about to leave the city, where are you going…”

Shen Qingwu mounted her horse and left the residence. “I’ll be back soon.”

Shen Qingwu was going to find Zhang Xingjian.

It wasn’t a day for morning court.

She went first to the General’s residence looking for him—no one there; then to the Zhang estate—no one there either; then to his official office, where she was told the Chancellor had been called away by someone.

No one thought to ask who had called him away.

Shen Qingwu stood amid the crowded bustle of the office, hand resting on the sword at her hip, gradually tightening her grip.

She felt thoroughly wronged.

Zhang Xingjian, who used to lounge idly at home with nothing to do, and today of all days he was nowhere to be found?

Shen Qingwu pressed one official until, with great difficulty, she extracted the location “Fanlou.”

The official guessed, “Foreign envoys have arrived in the capital, Chancellor Zhang has likely gone to entertain them…”

Shen Qingwu said, “Are you sure?”

The official said, awkwardly, “I’m not sure at all. How would I dare inquire into the Chancellor’s whereabouts?”

Shen Qingwu thought: infuriating.

Unable to find Zhang Xingjian, she couldn’t even find Chang Lin. Her trip to the Zhang estate had turned up nothing too.

As she walked out, she nearly collided with a rider hastily dismounting.

The rider said, “General, it’s time. We need to head out of the city.”

Shen Qingwu’s expression darkened; she raised her eyes, following the direction of the sunlight, gazing far off toward the bustling streets near Jiuqiao Gate.

But there was no time. She couldn’t make it to Fanlou to find her husband. Never had she imagined that, even after giving the Female Emperor fair warning, she would still fumble this.

Disappointed, wordless, Shen Qingwu mounted her horse.

A party of several dozen would travel to the troubled Qingzhou region, where they would seek the cooperation of the local government office.

Sitting on her horse, Shen Qingwu noticed several carts among their convoy, with soldiers loading items onto them.

Shen Qingwu didn’t ask.

A subordinate offered the explanation unprompted: “While the General was away, an imperial decree just arrived—the palace sent eunuchs bearing a great many gifts, asking us to stop along the way to visit an elderly Duke celebrating his birthday, and deliver Her Majesty’s congratulatory gifts on her behalf.”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

She supposed this was simply one of Li Lingge’s methods for winning people’s hearts—being Emperor was quite a laborious business, it seemed.

And so the group departed the city.

Shen Qingwu rode out, gloomy.

That night, they lodged at a posting station, and Shen Qingwu dismounted and walked straight toward the station.

Her personal guard coughed, stepping in to stop her partway.

The guard said quietly, “General, did you not read Her Majesty’s decree? She said that before the gifts reach their destination, the General is to personally inspect them at every posting station along the way, to ensure their safety.”

Shen Qingwu made a sound of acknowledgment.

She turned and walked toward the carts.

A few lanterns burned dimly outside the station, servants exchanged tallies with the soldiers, and scattered groups of people drifted inside. Shen Qingwu waved a hand, signaling the drivers they could go on ahead.

Shen Qingwu opened the carriage door, quite casually.

The air went still for a moment or two.

The driver shuffled over. “General, I think…”

Shen Qingwu shut the carriage door with a bang and turned to face him.

Shen Qingwu said, “You think what?”

The driver said, “Let me help the General unload…”

Shen Qingwu said, “No need. Go eat, I’ll handle this myself.”

A few soldiers gathered around the cart, expressing concern for their overworked General; Shen Qingwu felt her palms sweat, her nerves drawing tight.

She dealt with them as best she could, her expression growing colder by the moment.

Fortunately, she’d always had a reputation for a bad temper; seeing that she was insisting they leave first, they all sighed sympathetically over how their General’s cold exterior hid a warm heart, and how hard she worked.

The scattered groups dispersed, and Shen Qingwu drew a deep breath before opening the carriage door once more.

Inside, the carriage was quiet, the air cold. A man in ink-black robes sat perfectly at ease within, his features fine as a painting, smiling as he looked at her.

Distant lantern-light from the posting station spilled in.

It cast a layer of sacred golden light across his face.

How could she even describe the feeling, in that moment?

The stars had lit up.

The moon had fallen from the sky.

Everything in the world had lost its color.

The one she’d longed for, given up hope of seeing, sat right there in the carriage looking back at her, right at the peak of her disappointment.

Shen Qingwu leapt up into the carriage, slammed the door shut, threw herself forward, and wrapped her arms around Zhang Xingjian’s neck.

He’d known perfectly well she’d react this way, and reached out to circle her waist, laughing.

Shen Qingwu said, “You have some nerve! How dare you leave the capital!”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “It’s your gift…”

Shen Qingwu said, “What?”

Zhang Xingjian looked a little embarrassed.

But steadying himself, he pointed at himself. “Aren’t I quite the gift?”

Shen Qingwu stared, unblinking, at this gift of his—

fallen from the sky, arriving against every expectation, the one gift she’d wanted more than any other.

In autumn, Shen Qingwu had first hatched her wicked little scheme to smuggle him out of the capital.

Now in winter, she’d put it into action.

She’d even thought he was guarding against her—

that he didn’t want her, that his defenses had held, that she’d failed.

Shen Qingwu wrapped her arms around him, tilting her face up to kiss him.

There was hardly any space in the quiet, cramped carriage, and their breathing quickly grew ragged and uneven.

Shen Qingwu cupped his face, refusing to let go, her fingers pressing red marks into his cheeks—unseen by anyone, in the darkness.

Shen Qingwu’s heart pounded, racing.

Zhang Xingjian’s eyes curved. “You’re this happy to see me?”

Shen Qingwu said, low, “How dare you leave the capital?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “I’m just that audacious a person, apparently… isn’t that what you said?”

Shen Qingwu felt a rush of exhilaration.

She could feel her whole body coming alive—what kind of man was this, always managing to catch her by surprise in the most unexpected places, impossible for her to let go of!

Shen Qingwu asked, “Isn’t the Chancellor forbidden from leaving the capital without authorization?”

Zhang Xingjian said, “That’s right.”

He added, playful, “I did it in secret, so… well, you’ll have to protect me.”

His lips and tongue were caught up eagerly by hers.

He smiled faintly, again and again, in the darkness.

He loved her reaction.

Shen Qingwu asked, “So… I’ll have to keep you hidden away in a house of gold, is that it?”

A house of gold to hide his beauty away…

Zhang Xingjian paused for a moment.

Then, perfectly serious: “I like the sound of that. I’ll trust Miss Shen the Second to hide me well.”

He was joking, but Shen Qingwu answered with complete sincerity: “Don’t worry.”

She would absolutely keep her treasure hidden well!

A treasure that belonged only to her, that no one else could ever be allowed to discover!