In the months since, the Zhang household in Dongjing had been plagued by rumors of a haunting.

The rumors concerned the Zhang family’s late eldest son. Servants and maids whispered about it as they worked—

“Last night there was crying by the lake. I went to look but couldn’t see anyone, just heard a voice wailing that he’d died wronged.”

“I—I heard it too! That voice sounded just like the eldest son… but I don’t think it’s a ghost. I think it’s a dream-message. The eldest son came to me in a dream, said he wasn’t dead, said we needed to save him.”

Birds chirped outside. Standing beneath the window, Zhang Wenbi overheard several maids discussing this. Her face went ashen, her hands curling and striking against the window frame.

The attendant draping a robe over her shoulders noticed the worry on her face.

Just as the attendant began to offer a word of comfort, Zhang Wenbi turned abruptly and asked, “Where’s Zhang Yuelu? He’s off duty today, isn’t he? He should be home?”

The attendant said, “Third Young Master is home studying… Second Young Lady!”

Zhang Wenbi pushed past her and stormed out the door, her fierce momentum startling the gossiping servants outside pale, sending them dropping to their knees in fright.

The Second Young Lady was always strict, but this time, she didn’t so much as glance at them, marching straight toward Zhang Xingjian’s courtyard.

Zhang Xingjian’s courtyard was, as always, quiet and elegant.

A few apricot blossoms had bloomed in the yard; the window stood half open, and he lounged inside, idly leafing through a book. The young master seated beneath the window looked like a jade figure carved from snow. The maids, blushing and flustered as usual, were startled by Zhang Wenbi’s sudden appearance through the moon gate.

They knelt in alarm, assuming the Second Young Lady had come to scold them again for stealing glances at the Third Young Master. But this time, Zhang Wenbi ignored them entirely, her cold gaze fixed on the young man by the window: “Everyone out.”

The maids and servants filed out of the courtyard. Zhang Wenbi strode into Zhang Xingjian’s chambers.

Zhang Xingjian rose politely to greet her, but she’d completely forgotten the formalities she usually cared so much about, demanding directly: “Zhang Yuelu, what exactly are you playing at? Haven’t you had enough of this?”

Zhang Xingjian smiled faintly: “What does elder sister mean?”

Zhang Wenbi: “The whole household is buzzing with rumors about our brother—one moment he’s not dead, the next he’s sending dream-messages… I’ve told you before, our brother has been dead for many years. Had he not died young, do you think I would have brought you into this family? Would I have sworn never to marry, devoting myself entirely to raising you?

“I already made this clear to you the other day when you asked. Zhang Yuelu, don’t push your luck.”

Her tone was sharp and urgent, scolding him just as she always had, while Zhang Xingjian remained as calm and composed as ever, refusing to be swept up by her urgency.

However anxious she grew, he remained unhurried: “I’ve always told elder sister everything I know without holding back, yet elder sister hasn’t been entirely honest with me. What choice do I have?”

Zhang Wenbi: “What haven’t I been honest about?”

Zhang Xingjian: “Does elder sister think I’m the only one who cares whether our brother truly died young? The same year—first our parents died, then our brother. Chancellor Kong has been investigating this matter for years now… doesn’t elder sister also hope our family won’t be dragged into ruin because of it?”

Zhang Wenbi froze.

Just days ago, when her brother had come asking, she’d flatly repeated to him what she’d told him countless times before. But… Chancellor Kong was investigating too?

She said through gritted teeth: “Investigating what? What does our family’s misfortune have to do with him? Does that treacherous little man want every last Zhang wiped out before he’s satisfied?”

Zhang Xingjian smiled faintly, helping his elder sister to sit, pouring her tea, offering gentle words of comfort. Once her expression had eased somewhat, he said, “Our brother died suddenly at the height of his prospects, barely twenty years old. And with our two elders dying before him as well… Chancellor Kong likely suspects the Zhang family of some conspiracy.”

Zhang Wenbi was half-convinced.

Zhang Xingjian then produced a letter for her to see—his own investigation into Chancellor Kong’s movements. For over a decade, Kong Ye had been quietly investigating the Zhang family, sending people to trace certain leads, even sponsoring wealthy merchants to travel far and wide gathering information.

Zhang Xingjian had originally been unsure what exactly the Chancellor was searching for, but these past few months, he’d begun to form some theories of his own.

Reading the letter, Zhang Wenbi’s expression grew despondent.

She pressed her lips together, her gaze flickering as she looked at him.

Zhang Xingjian said softly, “Does elder sister not trust me?”

Zhang Wenbi said, self-deprecating: “How could I not trust you? You’re the child I raised with my own hands—you’re all I have left to rely on. Never mind—you’re at court year-round, dealing with that treacherous man Kong Ye. Knowing more can only help you.”

Zhang Wenbi considered, then said slowly: “…Our brother probably isn’t dead.”

Zhang Xingjian raised an eyebrow: “Probably?”

Zhang Wenbi said slowly: “That’s right. The day the coffin was sealed, I was so overwhelmed with grief and anger that I wanted one last look at our brother. I opened the coffin in secret, without telling anyone.”

She paused. “The body inside was gone.”

Zhang Xingjian listened quietly, and seeing her trail off, distracted, he picked up the thread himself: “But elder sister said nothing, and let the coffin be buried regardless.”

Zhang Wenbi: “That’s right. If our brother didn’t wish to go on living as ‘Zhang Rong,’ if he never wanted to be ‘Zhang Rong’ again—our family was already so cursed—if he wanted to escape all of it, of course I’d help him keep the secret.”

Zhang Wenbi’s tone turned hard and cold: “But he could abandon our family, could run from all of it—I couldn’t. I brought you into our household, entered you into the main family line, raised you as my own younger brother, swore an oath in the ancestral hall never to marry… I was determined to restore the Zhang family’s standing.”

Zhang Xingjian asked, “Then what really happened back then? Why did our brother abandon the family? Why did our parents die the same year? Why has Kong Ye never let it go?”

Zhang Wenbi: “The Kong family has always wanted to bring our family down—that goes without saying. As for what happened that year… what have you heard, exactly?”

Zhang Xingjian considered: “What I’ve heard is that our brother had a forbidden romance with Princess Ande, his student, and became caught up in a scandal of impropriety. Both the imperial family and ours wanted the two of them separated.”

Zhang Wenbi grew distant, tears welling faintly in her eyes.

She told him the story—

Back then, Zhang Wenbi had been just a fifteen-year-old girl, soon to be married. She’d been proud to have a brother so gifted in both learning and appearance, so accomplished in both scholarship and strategy.

Their brother had often taken her into the palace to play, and there she’d befriended a girl her own age—Princess Ande, Li Linge.

The old emperor had died young, leaving behind two children. The young emperor, barely out of infancy, had been placed on the throne, and the empress dowager had wanted tutors to educate the pair.

The young emperor had been mischievous and headstrong, uninterested in old, stodgy scholars. To encourage him to study, the tutors and ministers had agreed to bring in a younger man as tutor, hoping the princess and young emperor might take more interest in their education.

That was how Zhang Rong had become tutor, and through that role, come to know Li Linge, falling in love with the princess. It had been, by all accounts, a beautiful story—even if the elders disapproved, Zhang Wenbi never felt her brother had done anything against heaven’s will.

Only later…

Zhang Wenbi said through gritted teeth: “That hateful Li Linge—to be with our brother, she poisoned our parents!”

Zhang Xingjian froze slightly.

Zhang Wenbi glanced at him: “What, you don’t believe me? Look at that woman—beautiful face, sweet tongue, always good at flattering people into happiness. She fooled our brother and me completely, and behind our backs, she killed our parents. All because they opposed the two of them being together!

“She probably thought she’d handled it perfectly. But who was our brother? He discovered that woman’s true nature, went to the palace to confront her, and she tried to imprison him instead. When the woman he loved turned out to be nothing like he’d believed, what was he supposed to do?

“Before our parents died, they made our brother swear he’d never be with that woman for the rest of his life. Li Linge, furious, wanted to grind our parents’ remains to dust and scatter them… We’d been protected too well by our family. Before I turned fifteen, I never knew that beneath imperial power, even a princess who seemed utterly harmless could be so ruthless, so venomous.

“Zhang Yuelu, tell me—was our brother wrong to fake his own death and leave?”

Zhang Xingjian appeared thoughtful.

Zhang Wenbi choked on her words repeatedly, and perhaps because Zhang Xingjian couldn’t quite share in her grief, he remained calm throughout.

He even seemed genuinely puzzled: “Simply because she wanted to be with him, she tried to imprison him, and then poisoned his parents? That seems too simple an explanation.”

Zhang Wenbi: “That’s exactly how simple it is. You know Li Linge too, you’ve crossed swords with her plenty of times yourself. All these years, hasn’t she controlled the young emperor, refused to let him marry and take the throne early, all to satisfy her own ambitions?

“Nothing she does would surprise me. Ordinarily she hides her wolfish ambitions behind a gentle, cultured face, but when it comes to matters concerning our brother, she becomes utterly deranged, loses all reason. No one can predict what terrible thing she might do—that’s exactly why I’ve never dared let anyone know the truth, that our brother didn’t die.

“Our brother gave her up long ago. We should move forward too.”

Zhang Wenbi warned Zhang Xingjian: “Stay far away from Li Linge. Don’t let her deceive you, don’t be alone with her. I’ve noticed she’s grown more unstable these past few years—be careful.”

Zhang Xingjian agreed with a smile, of course not mentioning to Zhang Wenbi that Li Linge had once tried to drug him, or that he’d later turned the tables on her in a matter of court politics.

Zhang Wenbi continued: “And stay away from anyone who reminds you of Li Linge! Qingye is quite wonderful—gentle, sensible, delicate and refined, I’m very fond of her. Her health is a bit weak, but our family can certainly afford to look after her—it’s just a matter of more tonics, nothing more.

“Whatever you do, don’t get entangled with that kind of difficult, strong-willed woman who’s one thing on the surface and another underneath. Our family has already suffered enough disaster from that sort of foolishness—Zhang Yuelu, you must not repeat that mistake.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled and agreed.

He’d grown accustomed to his elder sister urging him, every few days, to marry Shen Qingye sooner rather than later, to keep his body and heart in check, not to entangle himself with romantic entanglements.

He’d heard this kind of talk his whole life, growing up.

Zhang Wenbi was particularly wary of him—Zhang Xingjian was nothing like Zhang Rong. Zhang Rong’s gentle, refined temperament had been genuinely upright, drawing little romantic attention; but Zhang Xingjian, in private, was carelessly charming, unable to hide his allure—not only did the young women of Dongjing high and low take notice, even the maids within their own household loved to steal glances at him.

This troubled Zhang Wenbi greatly, and she could only tighten her grip on him further.

Finally, Zhang Xingjian told Zhang Wenbi: “Elder sister, don’t worry. Now that I know what happened, I have a clear picture in my mind. Whatever Chancellor Kong intends, he won’t succeed.”

He offered her repeated reassurances.

But the moment his back was turned, he still had Chang Lin continue investigating everyone in Shen Qingwu’s circle.

Zhang Xingjian thought to himself: whatever had happened back then, it couldn’t possibly be as simple as mere romantic entanglement.

Li Linge was genuinely unstable, but in Zhang Xingjian’s view, she was a madwoman with method. If she’d wanted to fly off with her lover, she wouldn’t have needed to kill his parents.

So then… what had truly driven Zhang Rong to fake his death, to abandon his former lover?

What had really happened between Zhang Rong and Li Linge? Had their parents truly made Zhang Rong swear never to be with Li Linge again?

This story was growing quite interesting indeed.

Whatever happened in Dongjing no longer held Shen Qingwu’s attention once she’d left the city.

Her days consisted of drilling troops, fighting battles, studying military texts. Sometimes Bo Rong dragged her off to read books, to play chess.

She had no love for reading, no love for using her head, but her attitude was always proper. However badly she played chess, she never once skipped a session. It was Bo Rong, in the end, who took pity and released her from the obligation.

So Shen Qingwu spent even more of her time training in martial arts.

She still had no real friends—aside from Bo Rong and Yang Su, who came to talk with her on their own initiative, the other officers avoided her company.

Shen Qingwu had always done as she pleased, though in the past she’d always carried some lingering resentment beneath it. But after hearing Zhang Xingjian’s words that year of Tianlong 22, she began trying to shift her thinking—

Not the self-comforting thought that “I did nothing wrong,” but the genuine acceptance that “everyone’s temperament differs; it doesn’t matter that I’m not likable.”

Whether anyone in this world would ever appreciate her—she stopped wondering.

…First, train hard, become the greatest female general under heaven.

The female general distinguished herself remarkably within the Yizhou army, winning battle after battle, astonishing the court. Princess Ande in Dongjing sent gifts to Yizhou every so often, along with messages for the female general.

Li Linge clearly hoped to make use of both Shen Qingwu and the Yizhou army for herself.

Bo Rong, normally even-tempered, flew into a rage upon discovering just how much Li Linge favored Shen Qingwu, and gave her a thorough scolding.

Shen Qingwu was punished with extra drills, extra calligraphy practice.

She said nothing, took it silently. That night, Bo Rong came to apologize, saying somewhat evasively: “I only don’t want you getting too close to anyone at court.”

Sitting cross-legged in her tent, Shen Qingwu said, “But Zhang Xingjian thinks it’s good for me if the princess favors me. The princess could help me rise quickly.”

Something dimmed slightly in Bo Rong’s eyes as he asked her, “Do you listen to me, or to him?”

Shen Qingwu: “I’ll listen to you.”

Just as Bo Rong began to feel gratified, she added, offhandedly: “You took me in, you’ve been good to me—I should repay you.”

Bo Rong: “…”

Bo Rong: “If someone else took you in and was good to you too, would you feel you owed them the same?”

Shen Qingwu looked confused.

She didn’t understand what he was getting at.

Bo Rong said softly: “For instance… ahem, Zhang Xingjian?”

His tone turned strange when he mentioned Zhang Xingjian. But Shen Qingwu would never in a thousand years catch such a subtle difference.

Shen Qingwu, coldly: “Why bring up Zhang Xingjian? What right does he have to be compared to you?”

Bo Rong sighed.

He thought, never mind.

He’d wanted to raise a truly exceptional young woman, wanted to prove he could be a good teacher. But every student he’d ever encountered turned out to be this stubborn, headstrong type…

Bo Rong said softly: “In any case, don’t associate with Zhang Xingjian, and don’t associate with Princess Ande either. You’re a general—your life and death belong to the battlefield. There’s no need for you to get tangled up in their political games.

“I’ll handle all of that for you. A’Wu, grow up quickly.”

Shen Qingwu sensed he had some hope invested in her, some wish he’d placed upon her shoulders. But that was normal enough—aside from Zhang Xingjian, everyone seemed to have expectations of her.

Some hoped she’d fall to ruin, some hoped she’d find happiness; some wanted her gone, some wanted her well.

Shen Qingwu said nothing, only trained even harder.

Through the entire year of Tianlong 23, Shen Qingwu maintained no contact with Dongjing whatsoever. By year’s end, when the court summoned General Bo to the capital to report as usual, Bo Rong respectfully declined.

Not only did he not go—this time, Shen Qingwu wouldn’t be going either.

The reason this time was entirely practical—the Western Di had launched a surprise attack on the Yizhou garrison. Bo Rong was leading the response; all Yizhou forces were on standby, none permitted to leave.

That year, at year’s end, with no Yizhou commanders present in Dongjing, the moon-worship ceremony lacked a presiding officiant—

That year, Zhang Xingjian had lost a round in his ongoing struggle against Chancellor Kong. Kong Ye insisted on personally presiding over both the sun and moon ceremonies, driving Zhang Xingjian out of Dongjing, dispatching him in the dead of winter to escort provisions to the border army.

Half the court’s officials protested on Zhang Xingjian’s behalf, saying Chancellor Kong was abusing his authority as the young emperor’s regent to settle a personal grudge.

Zhang Xingjian himself seemed entirely at ease, accepting the assignment without complaint.

Great Zhou had two border armies—the Longyou army and the Yizhou army. The Longyou army’s commanding general, of the Shen family, had already come to court, so their provisions weren’t urgent; the Yizhou army was actively engaged with the Western Di, so naturally their supplies took priority.

From the very start, Yizhou had been exactly where Zhang Xingjian wanted to go.

The massive convoy set out a full month early, arriving in Yizhou just barely by New Year’s Eve.

The region was damp and cold, and this year’s weather was especially strange, thick fog blanketing everything. The travel-worn envoys arrived at the army encampment, only to find no one there to greet them.

Chang Lin, following Zhang Xingjian, muttered a complaint: “For a trip to Yizhou, you sure took the long way around.”

Factoring in Chancellor Kong, factoring in the entire court, needing to compete with Kong while appearing to lose deliberately, needing Kong to think of sending him to Yizhou at just the right moment… for a court official like Zhang Xingjian to leave Dongjing under imperial orders was truly no simple feat.

Fortunately, they had a purpose in coming.

Standing outside the empty camp, waiting a long while with no one coming to receive them, Chang Lin craned his neck, puzzled: “Where is everyone? Do they really care so little about receiving an imperial envoy?”

He said to Zhang Xingjian: “I know Shen Qingwu, let me go find her! The Yizhou army is really too much…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “The Yizhou army may be dealing with some unexpected developments. Let’s just go in ourselves.”

Zhang Xingjian and his party entered the camp, where a sweat-drenched general finally came to receive them, hastily accepting the imperial edict.

Seeing the provisions, this general was overjoyed, and moved to lead them to rest.

Zhang Xingjian asked, “What’s happened here? The camp looks… quite chaotic.”

Chaotic barely began to describe it.

In the brief time it took them to speak, several units of soldiers rushed out of the camp in urgent haste, shouts and curses ringing out. Army physicians ran back and forth between tents; wounded soldiers were carried out on stretchers…

On New Year’s Eve, the mood here was somber, utterly lacking any festive spirit.

Zhang Xingjian said gently, “It seems we’ve come at a troublesome time.”

The general leading them said hastily, “The provisions the court sent are exactly what we needed most urgently—we’re deeply grateful to you, my lord. It’s only that, being at war with the Western Di, we truly have no time to properly welcome you.”

Zhang Xingjian asked, “Might I pay a visit to General Bo?”

The general looked troubled: “By rights, General Bo should have come himself to welcome you. But General Bo was wounded—he’s still unconscious…”

Chang Lin, shocked: “You suffered such heavy losses?”

The general protested: “We dealt the enemy heavy losses—several times worse than our own. How is that a defeat?”

Zhang Xingjian suddenly asked, “Where is Shen Qingwu?”

The general froze, momentarily unsure who he meant.

The sky hung dark and heavy, clouds rolling overhead. Zhang Xingjian pressed his fingers to his brow and rephrased: “The one you call ‘General Wu.’ Wu Shi.”

Zhang Xingjian said slowly, “General Wu is a talented officer that General Bo personally raised up—General Bo showed her a debt of gratitude beyond measure. Now that General Bo is wounded, surely she’s been at his side, tending to him?”

Chang Lin nodded beside him—this matched exactly what they’d uncovered about the relationship between Shen Qingwu and Bo Rong.

But… he glanced at Zhang Xingjian, sensing something off in his tone, though he couldn’t quite place what.

Realization dawned on the general’s face.

The general said, “General Wu… Shen Qingwu, General Shen… she and General Yang went to reinforce General Bo, and now, now… we don’t know if they’re alive or dead. We’re searching for their unit.”

Zhang Xingjian’s expression remained unchanged.

Chang Lin’s face went white with shock: “Shen Qingwu is dead?!”

The general corrected him sharply: “We don’t know if she’s alive or dead!”

This is how the battle had unfolded—

Bo Rong, leading his forces against the enemy, had fallen into an ambush, trapping over ten thousand troops in the mountains.

Shen Qingwu and Yang Su had led a flanking assault from the rear, buying time for Bo Rong’s main force to retreat. The small unit under Shen Qingwu and Yang Su had drawn the brunt of the enemy’s assault, allowing Bo Rong to successfully lead the main force out of the mountains.

Shen Qingwu’s unit, surrounded by the enemy and preparing to retreat, found the mountains suddenly shrouded in fog—an advantage for the enemy. The Yizhou forces lost their bearings in the mountains.

The general said, struggling to contain his emotion: “This strange, thick fog has persisted for two days straight now. No one’s made it out of the mountains. The Western Di are cunning too, more familiar with mountain terrain than we are… General Shen’s unit is likely in grave danger.”

He wiped his face, his voice hardening: “How could any of us think of celebrating the New Year right now? Of course we keep sending troops into the mountains to search for them… The men have already brought out many bodies, but we still haven’t found General Shen or General Yang…”

He fought back tears in his fierce eyes.

Zhang Xingjian was still for a moment.

He said, “Might the men I’ve brought join your search into the mountains? Would that delay you?”

The general, startled: “My lord?! No—no, it wouldn’t delay us at all, the more people the better, we’ll guide you… but you’re all distinguished guests from Dongjing, honored visitors—how could you possibly join us in the mountains…”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Bring me a map of the terrain. Where were Shen Qingwu and the others last seen?”

Shen Qingwu and Yang Su, leading their troops into the mountains to reinforce Bo Rong, had encountered the enemy; once the fog rolled in, what should have been a smooth retreat instead left them trapped in the mountains.

Not only trapped, but lost, their comrades scattered.

For three full days, the mountain fog refused to lift, one or two thousand men against an enemy force of over ten thousand. Neither side could find their way out of the mountains—not them, not the Western Di either.

By the end, Shen Qingwu herself had no idea where she was.

Her last clear memory was of driving her sword through a fierce, formidable enemy general—and in his dying moment, his own blade had struck deep into her abdomen.

She seemed to have stepped back, her foot finding empty air, and she’d fallen somewhere. The white fog was too thick to see clearly.

When she woke again, the enemy’s sword was still lodged in her abdomen. She lay in a world of white mist, the thick smell of blood filling her nose, unable to find her weapon, but finding instead bodies scattered all around her.

Shen Qingwu guessed she must be lying among the dead.

Her whole body was drained of strength, having lost too much blood. She didn’t dare pull the sword from her abdomen—once removed, the bleeding might not stop, the wound might fester and become infected, and she might not survive even the moment she was in now.

Slowly, Shen Qingwu propped herself halfway up, dragging herself among the bodies. With great effort, she found a rock face to lean against, hoping for clearer sight—the fog would lift eventually.

Was Yang Su still alive?

How many of the soldiers who’d entered the mountains were still alive?

Whatever happened, she’d completed her mission—she’d bought Bo Rong the time to retreat, dealt a heavy blow to the enemy’s general. She recognized the general she’d killed—one of the most formidable commanders in the Western Di army.

She’d earned great merit.

All she had to do now was wait for her comrades to find her once the fog cleared, to come save her.

If she couldn’t hold out that long, well—life and death were fated. She had no regrets.

The pitch-black sky, once they’d entered the mountains, had turned into a hazy blanket of fog.

The mist grew even thicker, the air damp. Everyone marked their paths with rope, splitting up to search. The general had said most of the people in the mountains were likely already dead—

The general said bitterly, “General Shen and the others fought fiercely—we’ve searched two days and barely encountered any enemy soldiers. Everything we’ve found… has been bodies.”

Yizhou corpses, Western Di corpses.

Piled thick and dense, mountains of the dead, burned once brought out of the mountains.

As night fell, snow began drifting down from the sky.

The Yizhou soldiers were startled—they rarely saw snow in winter here.

Zhang Xingjian’s party followed them, leaning on walking sticks, splitting off to search separately. Zhang Xingjian sent Chang Lin with the others but came along himself as well, searching the mountains. As he walked, he became separated from the group, but he wasn’t worried—

with the rope markers in place, and the snow clearing the fog, the risk of getting lost had already dropped considerably.

Walking through this expanse of snow and mist, Zhang Xingjian found himself briefly lost in thought: was this the environment Shen Qingwu had lived in since she was sixteen years old?

Snow fell on his lashes, his eyelashes trembling faintly like butterfly wings, his robe sleeves billowing like waves.

Zhang Xingjian called out: “General Shen—

“Second Young Lady Shen—”

Choking on the snow, coughing, he drew a deep breath, his clear voice carrying, raised, across the vast expanse: “Shen Qingwu—”

Shen Qingwu, hazy, drifting in and out of consciousness.

She suddenly heard a call, echoing again and again, carrying a certain clear moonlit quality, like the dreams she sometimes had.

The voice grew closer and closer.

She forced her eyes open with great effort, her unfocused gaze catching the snow falling from the sky, a hazy figure behind the mist.

She couldn’t tell reality from dream, but she knew Zhang Xingjian was far away in Dongjing. He should be viewing lanterns amid the bustling streets there, not in the bitter cold of Yizhou.

She thought, perhaps she really was dying—how else would she be dreaming of him?

Absurd.

Even someone like her, it seemed, experienced that final flicker of clarity before death, dreaming of someone.

Stumbling forward, Zhang Xingjian heard a faint tapping sound from one direction. Rounding a bend, stepping over rocks, he found the female general, sitting propped against a rock face amid the bodies, her face numb and expressionless.

Her armor was gone, her long hair tangled like wild grass, her face covered in blood, a sword still lodged in her abdomen. She was tapping the rock face with her hand to catch his attention, her deep, quiet eyes fixed on him.

His pupils contracted slightly, his mind going blank for a moment.

He’d never seen her look this weak before.

He walked toward her, dropping his walking stick, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. He crouched before her, reaching out to check her breath.

Zhang Xingjian said politely, “General Shen, you…”

His voice caught—because as he crouched close to her, her body swayed, and she suddenly lurched forward, throwing her arms around him. He barely managed to turn aside in time, keeping the sword in her abdomen from driving deeper.

Zhang Xingjian heard Shen Qingwu’s voice, cold yet strangely relieved:

“How is it you’re the one come to take me to hell? Are you dead too?

“Well. That’s not so bad, I suppose.”

She murmured, as though in a trance, arms around his neck, head bowed against him: “I’ve wanted to kill you for a long time now.”

Zhang Xingjian knelt perfectly straight, motionless, letting her collapse against him, unconscious.