Much time had passed.

Long enough for the capital of Shuo to move through spring, endure mid-autumn, and now as the wind grew colder, winter approached.

The Wuto people had been thoroughly defeated, suffering grievous losses in this war. For the next decade, they would not dare harbor any delusions about the Great Wei. Victory reports from Jiuchuan, Ji Prefecture, Yunzi, and Binjiang reached the Shuo capital, causing countless citizens to celebrate.

Amid the joyous celebrations, there was also sorrow – such as the death in battle of Commander Yan Nanguang of the Guides Army.

When the news reached the Shuo capital and the Yan family, Lady Yan fainted on the spot, and Xia Chengxiu, the wife of Yan He, went into premature labor.

Perhaps due to overwhelming grief, the delivery was extremely dangerous. Even the midwife was at a loss. At this critical moment between life and death, Doctor Lin Mu, the father of Lin Shuanghe, arrived with his female apprentice, instructing her from behind the curtain as she attended to Xia Chengxiu’s delivery.

The entire Yan household gathered outside the birthing room, listening to the woman’s increasingly weak voice inside and watching basins of bloodied water being carried out, their hearts pounding with fear. Master Yan, who had never believed in Buddha, went to the family ancestral hall and knelt, praying for the safety of Chengxiu and the child.

Inside the room, Xia Chengxiu’s forehead was covered in sweat, her expression tortured, feeling her strength gradually slipping away.

Yet even in her near-death state, she could feel her heart’s pain, a pain that surpassed all physical suffering, making even breathing difficult.

Yan He had died in battle.

As the wife of a military officer, she should have been prepared for this day from the moment she married Yan He. The war was cruel, and battlefields were unpredictable – no one could guarantee they would be among the survivors. Xia Chengxiu had thought countless times that had decided to become his wife when this day truly came, she should face it with composure and dignity. Even if her heart was filled with unbearable grief and reluctance, her exterior should withstand the storm.

But when this day arrived, she discovered her weakness – she was far more fragile than she had imagined.

That man who appeared fierce and ill-tempered to others, who loved to provoke, had never spoken a harsh word to her. Since their marriage, Xia Chengxiu had been grateful to heaven – this marriage had brought her happiness beyond her imagination. Yet good things in this world were never meant to last; like scattered clouds and fragile crystals, perhaps it was its very perfection that made it so brief.

In her haziness, she seemed to see a familiar figure – Yan He in his silver robe with his long spear. He appeared as if returning from outside, covered in dust from the road, his eyes fixed on her, his familiar smile carrying hints of pride and showing off, just as he always did when returning victorious from battle.

Yan He reached out his hand to her.

Xia Chengxiu stared at him dazedly, instinctively moving to place her hand in his.

The female doctor at her side, seeing her expression, was startled and called out, “Lady Yan, hold on! Don’t sleep, don’t give up!” She turned her head toward the curtain and urgently said, “Master, Lady Yan is failing!”

Behind the curtain, Lin Mu’s heart tightened. Disregarding protocol, he shouted, “Lady Yan, think of the child in your womb! Don’t you want to see what they look like? Don’t you want to watch them grow up?”

“If not for yourself, Lady Yan, be strong for your child!”

Child?

Like a ray of clarity piercing through the chaos – child… Muxia… Her eyes suddenly flew open.

This was her and Yan He’s child. Before leaving, Yan He had earnestly apologized to her belly for not being able to stay by her side. He had hoped for a little girl, though he would have loved a son just as deeply. Just as he had countless times imagined what the child would look like, Xia Chengxiu too had painted many pictures of the child’s features in her mind.

If it was a son, he would look like Yan He, with strong eyebrows and large eyes, full of spirit. If it was a daughter, she would be like herself, gentle and graceful, sweet and lovable.

She hadn’t even seen this child yet – how could she let go now?

No!

Xia Chengxiu suddenly became clear-headed. She couldn’t, at least not now, sink into grief. She was Yan He’s wife, and she was also a mother!

“Waaah—”

A baby’s cry rang through the Yan family compound. Master Yan, who had been praying with clasped hands in the ancestral hall, started, then broke into tears.

The female doctor smiled, “Congratulations, Lady Yan! It’s a young master—”

Behind the curtain, Lin Mu finally let out a breath. When the news from Ji Prefecture arrived, he too had felt grief over Yan He’s fate. If Lin Shuanghe couldn’t save Yan He, at least he had saved his child.

Xia Chengxiu was completely exhausted, her sweat-soaked hair clinging to her cheeks in strands. In her daze, she saw Yan He again.

The man smiled warmly, with a hint of apology, saying to her, “I’m sorry.”

Xia Chengxiu’s tears welled up, and she reached out, trying to grab the figure before her, but he just smiled: “Chengxiu, I must go.”

“Nanguang…”

The man turned and strode forward, his figure graceful and decisive. As he walked, his silhouette gradually disappeared from her sight.

When Xia Chengxiu’s young son reached one month old, Xiao Jue led the Southern Manor troops back to the capital.

Emperor Zhao Kang was overjoyed and bestowed countless rewards. The court officials privately speculated that judging by the new emperor’s attitude, he intended to heavily employ General Feng Yun. Different emperor, different courtiers – now that Xu Jingfu was gone, it seemed the Xiao family of Great Wei was destined to rise again.

While the officials had their various thoughts, the common people didn’t think so deeply. They simply believed General Feng Yun was General Feng Yun, capable of achieving great victory even in treacherous Yunzi.

Not long after Xiao Jue’s return, Tiger Might General also led his troops back from Binjiang.

Now only He Yan’s Pacifying Yue Army and the Yan family forces had yet to return.

However, though they hadn’t returned, everyone knew it was just a matter of time since Jiuchuan and Ji Prefecture had already been recovered. By their calculations, they should be on their way back to the capital.

He Yunsheng rose earlier every day. Besides attending the academy, he would get up before dawn to climb Donghuang Mountain to chop wood. Though their family’s livelihood no longer required such hard work, He Yunsheng chopped wood not for survival, but to improve his skills bit by bit.

If one day his skills could match He Yan’s, then when He Yan went to the battlefield in the future, he could go too.

Every day after school, he would run to the Xiao family compound. Every time he saw Xiao Jue, his first question would be: “Brother-in-law, is there any news of my sister?”

Xiao Jue would always shake his head and say quietly, “No.”

No – what a disheartening answer.

Though Ji Prefecture had achieved victory, He Yunsheng had also learned that He Yan had been severely wounded in battle. After that, there had been no messages from that direction, and even when messages came, they didn’t mention He Yan’s condition. He Yunsheng held back from telling He Sui about these matters – He Sui was old, and he feared the daily worry would be too much for him.

But He Yunsheng himself still hoped every day for good news to arrive.

Not long after, Bai Rongwei also gave birth to a daughter.

Xiao Jing was overjoyed. Years ago, when the Xiao family fell from grace, Bai Rongwei’s health had been compromised. This pregnancy had been particularly difficult, but now that mother and daughter were safe, it was truly a blessing.

Cheng Lisu and Song Taotao came to visit Bai Rongwei, bringing many gifts. Now that the Xiao family was in the emperor’s favor, those relatives who had distanced themselves suddenly remembered their “old friendship.”

Cheng Lisu had the servants put away the fabric and tonics his mother had sent, and looking around without seeing Xiao Jue, asked Xiao Jing, “Uncle, is Uncle Xiao not at home?”

He hadn’t seen Xiao Jue for quite some time.

Xiao Jing paused: “At this hour, he should be in the ancestral hall.”

Cheng Lisu stood up, saying, “I’ll go find him!” and ran off in a flash.

He was close to Xiao Jue, and Xiao Jing and Bai Rongwei were used to this. Song Taotao, however, asked Bai Rongwei after Cheng Lisu left, “Madam Xiao, is there any news of Lady He?”

Bai Rongwei sighed and shook her head.

Song Taotao’s face fell in disappointment.

Meanwhile, Cheng Lisu had reached the ancestral hall.

The weather had grown colder, leaves scattered in the courtyard, and frost covered the tiles. He tiptoed inside and saw a young man standing before the central tablet, hands clasped behind his back.

His deep blue robe made him appear cold and distant, his gaze toward the ancestral tablets calm and serene. Cheng Lisu suddenly remembered that summer afternoon many years ago, when endless thunder and rain poured down. Just like now, while chasing a calico cat, he had stumbled in here by accident, inadvertently witnessing the tenderness hidden in the seemingly cold-hearted youth’s heart, a gentleness few could see.

The young man’s voice rang out, “What are you hiding back there for?”

Cheng Lisu started, realizing he’d been discovered. He obediently walked in, calling out a soft “Uncle.”

Xiao Jue didn’t look at him.

Since his youth, it had been his habit – whenever he felt uneasy or irritated when things became unbearable, he would come here, light three incense sticks, and after they burned out, everything would return to normal.

His unease and fears could not be seen by outsiders. Just like now, beneath the apparent calm churned turbulent waves.

“Uncle, are you worried about Aunt?” Cheng Lisu asked.

Xiao Jue remained silent.

After a long while, just when Cheng Lisu thought Xiao Jue wouldn’t answer, he spoke, saying simply: “Yes.”

Cheng Lisu gazed at him.

“I only wish for her safety.”

…

Leaving Bai Rongwei’s room, Song Taotao felt heavy-hearted.

She had learned the news of He Yan and was deeply worried. Though she had once privately agonized over He Yan being a woman, now all that belonged to the past.

To be fair, setting aside He Yan’s identity as a woman, she liked He Yan very much.

Death was fair to everyone, which was why the battlefield became especially cruel. And when one truly realized this cruelty, that was when one began to grow up.

The carefree young lady whose biggest worries had once been an unflattering hairpin or a too-dark lip rouge now finally understood the taste of helplessness.

Perhaps she too was beginning to grow up.

A youth in blue clothing approached, his features refined yet proud, somewhat similar to that cheerful and lively lady. Song Taotao’s steps faltered, “He…”

She remembered this youth – He Yan’s brother. Though his temperament was completely different from He Yan’s, the spirit and determination in his features were remarkably similar.

He Yunsheng saw her too.

She seemed to be that wealthy young lady He Yan had met in Liangzhou, probably a guest of the Xiao family. He had come to the Xiao residence today also seeking news of He Yan, though, of course, he hadn’t heard what he wanted. He had forgotten Song Taotao’s name, merely nodding slightly in acknowledgment before moving to walk past.

“Hey…” Song Taotao called out instinctively.

He Yunsheng stopped, looking up to ask, “Does the young lady have something else?”

Song Taotao hesitated, then finally said, “Don’t worry, Marquis Wu’an will return safely.”

He Yunsheng started, seemingly surprised by her words. After a moment, he replied, “Thank you,” before turning to leave.

Song Taotao watched his departing figure, speaking softly either to the retreating figure or to herself: “She will come back.”

…

Overnight frost had fallen, and on the pomegranate tree outside the window, the fruit had reddened unnoticed, hanging on the branches, a spot of remaining red among the tree shadows, its seeds like fire.

Little Baiguo stood beneath the tree, staring longingly since early morning at the largest, reddest pomegranate at the top. The Second Young Master’s courtyard was quiet and empty, with this pomegranate tree being its liveliest feature. The biggest fruit hung like a small lantern, clearly promising sweetness.

Qingmei passed by, and seeing her transfixed expression, couldn’t help but gently tap Baiguo’s head, saying, “Greedy.”

Baiguo was about to speak when she saw Xiao Jue walking out from inside. She quickly called out, “Young Master!”

Xiao Jue glanced at her, “What is it?”

Baiguo pointed at the tree, “Look, the pomegranates are red!”

Xiao Jue turned to look at the fruits that dotted the green with a touch of thin red, like lamps burning in the night.

“So red, they must be very sweet,” Baiguo said, biting her finger.

Qingmei couldn’t help whispering, “Young Master is saving the sweetest ones for the Young Mistress, what are you coveting them for?”

Baiguo defended herself quietly, “I know that I just wanted to say, could the smallest one maybe be for us…” her voice gradually trailed off, not daring to finish.

Xiao Jue walked to the pomegranate tree, suddenly remembering a time last year when a woman had stood under this very tree, jumping and stretching to try to pick the pomegranates. Later, with affairs piling up in the capital, the largest pomegranate hadn’t been picked in time and had ripened on the branch, leaving her regretful for a long while. Now the timing was perfect, but the one who would pick them hadn’t returned.

He casually picked up a stone from under the tree, aimed at the furthest branch, and with a slight movement of his fingers, sent it flying. The fire-red lantern-like pomegranate fell at his touch, landing in his palm.

Heavy and bright red.

He withdrew his hand. Pomegranates this season needed to be kept in the courtyard well, soaked in cool water so that when He Yan returned, they would be just right.

As Xiao Jue was about to leave, Chifu came running in from outside, panting, and said, “Young Master… Young Master… the Pacifying Yue Army has returned to the capital!”

Qingmei and Baiguo were startled, then grew excited. Just as they were about to speak, they felt a gust of wind pass by, and looking up, Xiao Jue had already vanished from the courtyard.

Only the fruit-bearing pomegranate tree remained, its bright colors surpassing the early winter plum blossoms.

…

The city gates were already crowded with citizens who had rushed there upon hearing the news, blocking both sides of the street completely.

Most who came to welcome the troops were families of soldiers. Countless women held their young children in the wind, carefully searching the crowds for familiar faces. When they spotted living relatives, they would rush forward regardless of propriety, embracing and weeping. There were also elderly people trembling as they leaned on walking sticks, searching from beginning to end, their eager gazes turning to ice with disappointment.

One war had shattered countless families. Separation and reunion, joy and tears – the tragicomedy of human life played out without exception.

When Xiao Jue arrived, the troops had already passed through the city gates. Of the many soldiers who had departed, barely half remained. Though everyone’s faces showed both exhaustion and joy, at the front there was no familiar, cheerful figure riding a fine horse.

His gaze froze.

When troops returned triumphantly to receive honors, the meritorious commanders would always ride at the front – without exception. But now, there was no sign of her.

Years ago, when He Yan was “Flying Swan General,” he hadn’t seen her return triumphant. Later, she joked with him: “Xiao Jue, one day, you must see my heroic figure returning victorious.”

Yet now, throughout the long column of soldiers, there was no sign of her.

For many years, perhaps since the deaths of Xiao Zhongwu and Lady Xiao, he hadn’t felt such helplessness. For a moment, he didn’t even know where or when he was.

The bustling crowd seemed far away. Someone pushed past him, not noticing that this lost young man was the Right Army Commander of Great Wei, causing the pomegranate he gripped tightly to slip from his hand, rolling away into the crowd, leaving no trace.

He seemed to return to that night of his youth, when all his composure and coldness suddenly cracked, leaving him not knowing what to do.

It seemed both a very long time and no time at all had passed.

He seemed to finally understand what he should do next, turned around, and then froze.

Against the wall by the street leaned a young woman in a crimson battle dress, with a sword green as pine at her waist. She was smiling at him, tossing up and down a red fruit – the very pomegranate that had just slipped from his hand into the crowd.

“Hey,” seeing him look over, she called out playfully, “Young sir over there, my leg is injured and I can’t walk further. Could you trouble yourself to come here?”

The young man’s gaze crossed through the passing crowd, lingering long upon her, and then he walked toward her.

Step by step, as if crossing all mountains and seas and years, finally finding his place in this long life.

The girl smiled and opened her arms wide as if asking for an embrace. He strode forward quickly and held her tightly in his arms.

In that instant, all was silent except for each other in their embrace, becoming the most enduring attachment.

In the crowd around them, some rejoiced, some wept, some reunited, some parted. Under the bustle of heaven and earth, they held each other close, countless things understood without words.

The young man in his fine robes gently patted her head, the warmth of his hand making He Yan’s eyes burn until tears fell unconsciously.

“It’s been a long time, Commander Xiao,” she said softly.

In all directions of the human world, in life and death, separation and reunion, how fortunate they were to always meet again.