Mu Xiaolou cuddled against Mu Hongjin for a while longer before Aunt Tong called her away. The maid at her side helped Mu Hongjin stand up and walk a few steps forward to the colorfully painted wall adorned with murals.
The great hall was spacious yet desolate, with only this painted wall showing any signs of life. It depicted the bustling marketplace and the comings and goings along the Grand Canal, capturing all the vitality of Jiyang City. Everyone in the painting wore expressions of joy and happiness—that kind of vivid liveliness she hadn’t seen in many years.
After all, since ascending to the position of Princess, she had spent most of her time in this empty palace.
After today, Mu Xiaolou would be sent out of the city. The so-called birthday celebration for Prince Uncle was merely a pretext. The various princes had ceased visiting each other years ago to avoid arousing His Majesty’s suspicions, with everyone keeping to themselves for the sake of peace. Now the Wutuo people were lurking in the shadows, and storm clouds gathered over Jiyang. As Princess, she could not flee but must remain in the city to share the fate of the citizens who couldn’t leave—this was the integrity of the Mu family. But Mu Xiaolou couldn’t stay; she was Jiyang’s only hope. If… things came to the worst, as long as Mu Xiaolou lived, there would still be hope.
“The officials have already ordered the evacuation of civilians,” the maid said softly. “Your Highness, are you worried about Young Miss?”
Mu Hongjin shook her head with a smile. “I’m worried about Jiyang City.”
Outside the window, the willow trees’ long branches, dipped in spring’s fresh green, stretched to the edge of the pond, creating small ripples. Carp in the pond rushed to nibble at the surface, creating a scene full of vitality.
Spring came like this every year; only the people had changed.
When Mu Hongjin was young, she loved life outside the palace. As the youngest daughter of the Prince of Mengji, while her brother was still alive, she lived like all the pampered young ladies of Jiyang’s wealthy families—cherished and living vibrantly and lovably. But everything changed after her brother’s death when she was sixteen.
The Prince of Mengji began teaching her many things and establishing many rules. Only then did Mu Hongjin truly understand how difficult her brother’s life had been. But hardship was hardship—the Prince of Mengji had no other children, and as the future bearer of the entire principality’s responsibilities, such suffering was unavoidable.
However, when even her marriage was to be controlled by others, Mu Hongjin found it harder to accept.
Looking back now, she had been too spoiled then, young and impetuous, daring to run away. She hadn’t considered at all how her father would handle the aftermath with the spurned court official’s family alone in the palace. If it were the present Mu Hongjin, she probably wouldn’t have had such courage.
The more responsibilities one bears, the less freedom one has to be oneself. The courage to risk everything comes only once in a lifetime; after that age, after that time, it never returns. It disappears into the river of time along with one’s younger self.
Originally, Mu Hongjin had truly liked Liu Buwang.
The young man in white had a cool and quiet disposition, proper and self-disciplined, yet sometimes showed an otherworldly innocence. Despite possessing extraordinary skills and superior martial arts, he would earnestly help farmers find lost sheep without complaint. But Mu Hongjin thought that these supposed virtues—his kindness and purity—were merely additional qualities. She had started liking Liu Buwang from the moment he stood before her under the peach tree, sword raised to drive away those villains.
How many perfect unions in legendary stories began with a hero saving a beauty? She was determined to follow Liu Buwang, using every trick she knew—throwing tantrums, crying, cajoling, and deceiving. Yet Liu Buwang remained coldly polite toward her, showing no signs of favor.
Mu Hongjin felt discouraged but then thought that compared to others, Liu Buwang treated her quite well. Though he earned little money, he would order an extra plate of apricot blossom pastries when they ate at restaurants. When staying at inns, he would spend more to get her a thicker mattress. He left money in obvious places and turned a blind eye when she secretly took some to buy rouge. If he truly disliked her, he wouldn’t have tolerated such behavior. Thus, Mu Hongjin always felt that with one more step, and a little more time, Liu Buwang would inevitably fall in love with her.
Until his young junior sister came down the mountain to find him.
The junior sister was called Yu Shu, different from the bold temperament of Jiyang women. She appeared so frail that it seemed a breeze could blow her away, with skin as white as a porcelain doll, like a fairy maiden under Guanyin’s seat. She spoke softly and gently, easily inspiring others’ sympathy. But Mu Hongjin could see a hint of hostility in the girl’s eyes.
At that time, she was too unrefined to notice anything amiss. Upon learning that Yu Shu was Master Yunji’s daughter, specifically coming down the mountain to help Liu Buwang navigate worldly matters, she even felt some goodwill toward her and treated her like a sister.
Their party of two became three, and Mu Hongjin didn’t feel any difference. Yu Shu was always well-behaved, unlike her, never causing trouble for Liu Buwang. A month passed quickly.
When the day came for Liu Buwang to return to Qiyun Mountain, he had originally planned to take Mu Hongjin along. However, both inside and outside Jiyang City, guards were searching for the missing young princess, checking everyone strictly, even at the foot of Qiyun Mountain.
Mu Hongjin couldn’t go up Qiyun Mountain.
She pulled Liu Buwang into a room and looked at him seriously, saying, “I can’t go back with you.”
The young man thought she was up to something again and asked, “Why?”
“I’ll tell you,” Mu Hongjin hesitated before revealing the truth, “I am the daughter of the Prince of Mengji. The person the guards are searching for inside and outside the city is me.”
Liu Buwang was stunned.
“My father wants to marry me to a court official’s son to secure the prince’s position. I didn’t want to, so I ran away, and then I met you. This past month has been very happy for me, Liu Buwang,” she didn’t call him ‘Young Hero’ but used his name directly, “I don’t want to marry him, but I also can’t go up the mountain with you. What should I do?”
The girl was no longer lively and mischievous as usual, quietly looking at him with complete trust in her eyes, and perhaps some unconscious dependence.
Liu Buwang didn’t know what to say. Perhaps he had already sensed that Mu Hongjin’s identity was unusual—there were indeed differences between a young lady raised in the Prince of Mengji’s palace and ordinary girls from Jiyang City.
After long consideration, he told her, “In that case, wait for me at this inn. Let me go up the mountain to inform my master about this matter, and I’ll come back down in a few days to find a solution.”
Mu Hongjin felt reluctant: “You’re leaving now?”
“I will return.” The young man spoke awkwardly.
On the day he left, Mu Hongjin saw him off in the space behind the inn. There was unease in her eyes as if she had already foreseen something. She couldn’t help but grab Liu Buwang’s sleeve and said, “Liu Buwang, remember your words, you must come back.”
“Don’t worry.” For the first and last time, he patted her head reassuringly.
Liu Buwang and Yu Shu left, and Mu Hongjin waited obediently for him at the inn. She believed Liu Buwang would return because he was a man of his word, even though he hadn’t fallen in love with her yet.
Two days later, Liu Buwang didn’t come back.
Mu Hongjin continued waiting at the inn, thinking perhaps something had delayed him on the way. It had rained for several nights, making the mountain paths difficult to traverse. Maybe he couldn’t come down immediately. Or perhaps Master Yunji had given him some tasks to complete first.
Another five days passed, and Liu Buwang still hadn’t appeared. Mu Hongjin began to worry—in such troubled times, could he have been ambushed by bandits? Though his swordsmanship was excellent, his heart was pure, and even she could deceive him so easily. How could he truly fight against those devious villains?
On the tenth day, someone finally came to the inn, but it wasn’t Liu Buwang—it was the guards. The guard captain stood before her, his tone respectful yet cold: “Your Highness, it’s time to go home.”
Mu Hongjin was taken back to the Prince of Mengji’s palace. Confined to her room, she banged on the windows making them rattle loudly, shouting, “Let me out!”
No one answered.
She began a hunger strike in protest, and her father, the Prince of Mengji, ordered the door to be opened.
Mu Hongjin threw herself before the Prince of Mengji, crying grievously: “Father, how could you let them lock me up!”
“Hongjin,” the Prince of Mengji shook his head and smiled, placing dishes from the maid’s tray before her one by one, “These are all your favorite snacks.”
“I don’t want to eat,” Mu Hongjin turned her head away, “I want to leave the palace.”
The Prince of Mengji didn’t get angry. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Are you waiting for that young man surnamed Liu?”
Mu Hongjin suddenly looked up, her gaze full of surprise: “How do you know?”
“He won’t come back.”
“No, he will come back!” Mu Hongjin couldn’t help but say, “He promised me, he won’t break his word.”
“Is that so,” the Prince of Mengji said flatly, “How do you think I found out where you were?”
Mu Hongjin froze.
The cruel words came from her father’s lips, shattering her self-deceptive dream in an instant: “It was he who told me your whereabouts.”
“He delivered you back.”
Why Liu Buwang would return her to the palace—this question, even later, Mu Hongjin never understood. She didn’t want to believe the Prince of Mengji’s words, but Liu Buwang truly vanished from her life as if he had never existed, never appearing again.
Later, Mu Hongjin gradually came to believe it.
For someone like him, if he truly wanted to find someone, how could he not find a way? She had persisted for nearly half a year, but she couldn’t hold on any longer.
Half a year later, Mu Hongjin married the son of a current court official. Though it was a marriage, he was called her “Prince Consort.” The prince’s position was secured, but the heir she bore still carried the surname “Mu.”
The Prince Consort wasn’t as bad as Mu Hongjin had previously claimed, but he wasn’t particularly outstanding either. They lived a life of mutual respect; when her husband took concubines, she accepted it graciously, neither jealous nor resentful. The Prince Consort was also very measured, treating her with respect. In others’ eyes, this was the most perfect union among arranged marriages. But Mu Hongjin felt that her vitality and spirit had long ago, in that spring, bloomed quickly like an epiphyllum flower and just as quickly withered, disappearing completely.
She always felt an emptiness in her heart, not knowing what she was seeking. So she could only spend more time on public affairs in Jiyang City.
A red carp leaped from the water, disturbing the spring pond’s surface. A moment later, its red tail flickered on the water’s surface before quickly disappearing.
Mu Hongjin stared blankly at the water’s surface.
She had told He Yan that Liu Buwang never came to the inn to fulfill their promise, and they never met again afterward. She had lied. After that, she and Liu Buwang did meet once more, though that meeting could hardly be called pleasant.
It was in the second year after she had given birth to her child. She had gone with her young son and Prince Consort to Bao Temple in Jiyang City to pray for blessings. Amidst the wisps of incense smoke and distant Buddhist chants, she prayed for her young son’s health and safety, for Jiyang City’s prosperity, and for the people’s happiness. As they were leaving after the prayers, she noticed someone seemingly spying outside the temple door. Mu Hongjin ordered her guards to investigate, and they brought back a young woman.
Years had passed, yet the woman still appeared as delicate and docile as when they first met, her eyes filled with fear and panic when looking at Mu Hongjin.
Mu Hongjin was startled—it was Yu Shu.
She instinctively looked around for Liu Buwang—if Yu Shu was here, Liu Buwang might be nearby as well.
Yu Shu seemed to understand her thoughts and blurted out, “He’s not here!”
“Oh?” Mu Hongjin looked at her with a meaningful smile.
Time can make a woman grow up quickly. Mu Hongjin was no longer that unobservant girl who couldn’t even recognize a rival in love. She now understood perfectly well where the hostility in this girl’s eyes had come from back then, though Mu Hongjin had never considered her a rival.
She tilted her head, crouched down, and stared at Yu Shu’s face with interest: “It doesn’t matter if he’s not here. If I hold you, he will naturally appear.”
Yu Shu’s face changed dramatically.
Mu Hongjin stood up, her expression cold: “Just say a female assassin appeared in the temple, attempting to assassinate me, and has been captured by the guards.”
Her eyes were lined with red, elegant, and gorgeous—she was no longer that bright-eyed, naive girl.
Mu Hongjin didn’t return to the palace but stayed at the temple. She sent away all the guards and servants, had the Prince Consort take their young son away, and waited alone for that person to appear.
At midnight, he truly appeared.
Years had passed, and he had shed his youthful innocence, becoming even more aloof and unfamiliar. His first words upon seeing Mu Hongjin were not to ask how she had been these years, but rather: “Where is Yu Shu?”
Emotionless, as if they had always been nothing more than strangers.
Mu Hongjin lowered her head, feeling somewhat like laughing. She almost doubted whether those days, that spring outside Jiyang City, had been nothing more than her imagination. She had seen Liu Buwang as a hero who suddenly appeared in her life, while to him, she had been merely an unwanted accident.
“In prison,” she replied coldly.
Liu Buwang looked at her.
He had changed considerably, and she was equally unfamiliar. The young girl in his memory and this woman before him in red robes and golden crown, with her proud demeanor, shared not the slightest resemblance.
“Yu Shu would never try to assassinate you.”
“Why not?” Mu Hongjin laughed sarcastically, “You can never truly know someone’s heart, especially when we were never close.”
“Release her,” Liu Buwang said. “Take me instead.”
His gaze was cold and emotionless, no longer holding the indulgent tolerance or reluctant concessions of years past. Only the calmness of a stranger remained, and perhaps a hint of disgust for the ‘privileged.’
How laughable.
“Why,” Mu Hongjin stepped forward, looking straight into his eyes, “she’s just a junior sister, yet you protect her so. Do you love her?”
It was just a probing question—Mu Hongjin herself didn’t know what she was hoping for. Perhaps she was waiting for him to quickly deny it, then look at her and say “My heart belongs only to you.” Such a cliché scene that would have made her sick in the past, yet now she desperately wanted to hear it from his lips.
But unfortunately, stories are just stories, and legends are merely fabricated tales. All the passionate love in the world ultimately leads only to resentment. How many lovers become enemies, and how many couples part ways never to meet again?
Liu Buwang said: “Yes.”
She said: “What did you say?”
“I love her.”
The young man’s voice was frank and direct. In that instant, Mu Hongjin felt her fingers trembling. Once, she had desperately wanted to hear these words from Liu Buwang’s lips. For these words, she had tried every trick imaginable, but Liu Buwang’s mouth had been sealed tight. She had grown frustrated countless times, feeling his mouth must have been made of stone, impossible to pry open.
Now he said it so easily.
It wasn’t that his mouth couldn’t be opened—it was just that the person he was speaking to wasn’t her.
She found herself increasingly ridiculous, all the memories of those years flashing through her mind. When she had been that carefree girl, she hadn’t noticed Yu Shu’s feelings for Liu Buwang. When she became the Princess of Mengji, she noticed but still hadn’t considered Yu Shu a threat.
It turned out they had been in love all along, and she had been the presumptuous one.
What use was being the Princess of Mengji, a noble lady of royal blood? In matters of the heart, she had lost completely, never even having a chance to compete. Yet she had kept thinking about it all these years.
“Was it you who told my father about my whereabouts at the inn back then?” she asked.
Liu Buwang said: “Yes.”
“When you left that time, did you never intend to return?”
“Yes.”
Mu Hongjin took a deep breath as if trying to see things more clearly, to feel the pain more thoroughly, to uproot something from the bottom of her heart, and never look at it again. She asked: “Liu Buwang, did you never have any feelings for me?”
Liu Buwang’s beautiful eyes gazed at her, his expression as indifferent as a passerby, and said just one word: “Yes.”
“I see.” She murmured, her eyes growing hot, yet still forcing a smile, saying: “Since you love only your junior sister, then you’d do anything for her?”
Liu Buwang looked at her: “What do you want?”
Mu Hongjin’s finger traced his shoulder, her tone ambiguous and flirtatious: “Become my lover, and I’ll release her.”
Liu Buwang had remained calm throughout, his expression unwavering, but at this moment, as if stung by something, he quickly stepped back, avoiding Mu Hongjin’s touch.
Mu Hongjin stiffened, her lips curling in mockery, her tone deliberately contemptuous: “What’s wrong, unwilling? Being the Princess’s lover isn’t a privilege everyone can have.”
Liu Buwang stared at her steadily. His white robes were immaculate, the sword at his waist gleaming—he was as pure and noble as when they first met. Such an untainted person could never accept such humiliation.
Yet she wanted to humiliate him. Why should she alone be haunted by this for so many years while he could act as if nothing had happened? What Liu Buwang couldn’t do for her, he absolutely shouldn’t be able to do for Yu Shu.
Otherwise, what did that make her, Mu Hongjin? A touchstone to prove their true love?
Then, in the dim hall of Buddha, she saw Liu Buwang slowly kneel down and calmly answer: “Very well.”
Mu Hongjin’s heart suddenly ached, almost unable to breathe.
What more was there to prove?
Enough, this was enough. All those questions that had troubled her for years, all those unattainable desires, whether good or bad, happy or sad, had been answered. Women of Jiyang were known to love and hate boldly, to take up and let go easily. A princess had her pride—she had all of Jiyang City, how could she waste away for one man?
It was nothing but an ill-fated bond.
She lifted her chin and said coldly: “But I am unwilling.”
“Someone like you, how could you stand beside me?” Each word she spoke was like a knife cutting into her own heart. Even Mu Hongjin herself was surprised—how had she developed such deep feelings for Liu Buwang in just one short month? Cutting off this ill-fated bond by her hand brought forth so much reluctance.
“Take your beloved and get out of Jiyang City,” she said.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
His voice remained as steady as ever, while Mu Hongjin’s tears fell in the darkness.
“Let us go our separate ways. Liu Buwang, from now on, you and your junior sister can never enter Jiyang City. Otherwise, each time I see you, I will kill you.”
The red hem of her robe drew a brilliant, dazzling arc of sunset in the darkness. Like a clear boundary, it declared that from this moment on, they would have no more connection. Like the peach blossoms beneath the tree when they first met, covering the entire ground, dazzling and enchanting, making one lose oneself in the spring dream, unwilling to wake up.
But dreams must end.
She released Yu Shu and returned to the palace, acting as if nothing had happened. She and her Prince Consort continued their harmonious life, peaceful days passing by. Yet even in their perfect marriage, there remained an unfulfilled yearning.
Years passed, and the Prince of Mengji passed away. Mu Hongjin gradually became busier. More years passed, and the Prince Consort also died, so she devoted all her energy to her young son.
Later, her son also passed away, leaving only Mu Xiaolou to depend on each other for survival.
Mu Xiaolou greatly resembled her younger self. Thus, she always showered Mu Xiaolou with excessive affection, just as her father had doted on her when her brother was still alive. Mu Hongjin understood very well that once someone took the position of Princess, someday that bright, playful girl who would sneak out of the palace would disappear. So before that disappearance, she wanted to protect and nurture that vitality for as long as possible.
She hoped Mu Xiaolou would have her own story, rather than being like herself, wasting many years in someone else’s story.
The apricot blossoms on the branches bloomed vibrantly and densely. A young lady wandering in the garden strayed into the deep forest of flowers and had a long, beautiful dream. This dream had both joy and sorrow; though it passed in an instant, it felt like a lifetime.
Her spring had died long ago.
Perhaps it had never come at all.