After the peach blossom banquet, Prince Anqing said to me, “Get close to Chancellor Li’s second daughter. Marry her.”

I stared at the old prince, startled.

“The Crown Prince has his eye on Li Qinglei. I need you inside the Eastern Palace, using this connection as brothers-in-law.” His explanation was brief, but I understood his meaning in an instant.

I was Ning Guo’s youngest top scholar, made Vice Minister of Rites within a single year. Together with the Crown Prince, the Fourth Prince, the young lord, and General Tianxiang, I was counted among the Five Young Masters of Wind City. Countless young ladies of Wind City were infatuated with my charm and easy grace. I was still young, still had much unfinished business, and when it came to matters of the heart, I’d always meant to let fate decide. I never imagined the old prince would make use of my marriage this way — though Li Qingfei was, admittedly, sweet, lovely, and gifted with words.

I was a man of contradictions. I carried two identities. The one shown to the world was the top scholar, young Vice Minister Cheng. The one that couldn’t be spoken of was Dark Night, captain of the Black-Robe Pigeon Squad of Prince Anqing’s household. Between the two, I much preferred being Dark Night. Because the old prince and the loyal Black Robes were the ones who gave me warmth — the warmth of a real family.

Prince Anqing found me when I was fighting over scraps of food. A guard appeared and brought me before him.

“How old are you?” He looked stern and formidable, yet there was a warmth in his eyes. I held up my hand, fingers spread. Five.

He had an attendant buy me several meat pastries, then asked casually, “Where’s your family?”

His tone was gentle, like a father’s voice, and I couldn’t help wanting to cry. I managed not to let the tears fall. I thought he might give me money, so I knelt and begged him, “Could you buy me? All I need is one tael of silver!”

He seemed surprised, and something like pity showed in his eyes. “One tael? What would you do with just one tael?”

“Buy food for my father, of course!” I answered, righteous and certain.

He insisted on coming to see for himself. I led him to a small mud hut on the edge of the border city. My father was already dead — I knew that — but I couldn’t bear to bury him. Every day I brought back the best things I could find and gave them to him; the hut was piled high with food. It was deep winter then, and I’d moved blocks of ice in to keep him frozen. I’d always wanted to buy him a roast chicken, because before he died, as far as I could remember, that dish had never once appeared on our table. I wanted to try it, and surely my father would have loved it too.

Prince Anqing followed me inside and stood there a long while, looking. Then he pulled me into his arms. I was filthy, but he didn’t recoil in the least. He said to me gently, “From now on, you can be my son too.”

Me? My tears finally fell. He helped me bury my father, and even personally helped me prepare food to bring to his grave.

I never became his son in name, though he bathed me himself, told me stories at night, taught me to read and write, and sometimes indulged his own childlike spirit to play games with me — he truly treated me like a father would.

I slowly learned who he was — that he lived alone in the border city, that far away in his manor in Wind City he had a son my own age. He often spoke of him, and it was clear he loved his son dearly. But he had to guard the realm for his weak elder brother the king, and secure it for his brother’s heir, and so he could only leave his son behind in the manor. He said, “Only this way will that little rascal learn to protect himself.”

I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why does Your Highness dote on Shiyue so much?”

He smiled and patted my head. “Because Shiyue is a good, filial child.”

I was too young to understand then, but the warmth he gave me I would never forget in this life. Perhaps deep down I had already come to think of him as a father, and his son as a brother — yet I never once called him Father aloud. I told him I wanted to become one of the Black Robes, to repay his kindness, to serve him and his son for the rest of my life. He didn’t agree at first — he sent me to study instead. I did well; I had a gift for remembering everything I read. He laughed and said, “Shiyue will have to win first place in the imperial exams one day.”

Then I’ll win first place, I thought — but I still wanted to be a Black Robe.

The prince thought it over a long while before finally sending me to learn martial arts. By then I was already ten — well past the ideal age to begin. He said, “If your skill doesn’t make you the finest in the Black Robes, then go be your top scholar instead.”

I endured every hardship and mastered real skill — my lightness technique, concealed weapons, and mechanism work became the finest among us. When I was inducted into the Black Robes, he told me, “Shiyue, think carefully. Once you join the Black Robes, I can no longer think of you as my son. Your life will no longer be your own.”

I nodded, resolute. My father had been a teacher, a man who valued loyalty and righteousness his whole life. Prince Anqing had given me so much — what better way to express my love for him than to become one of his manor’s death-sworn guards, the Black Robes?

The year I turned eighteen, I won first place in the imperial examinations, and from then on I carried two identities. Under his arrangement, no one knew that the dashing top scholar was also Dark Night, the most secretive pigeon-squad leader commanding Prince Anqing’s Black Robes.

I came to know his son — that bright, unrestrained young lord, Liu Jue. Per the prince’s wishes, I never grew close to Liu Jue. The prince said his son only looked like a spoiled young master on the surface — underneath, he was sharper than anyone. Spend too much time near him, and he’d surely catch my scent.

Prince Anqing always said that once I joined the Black Robes, he couldn’t think of me as a son — yet I knew how much he doted on me. So when he told me to marry Chancellor Li’s second daughter, I felt lost. It didn’t seem like something he would do.

More than anyone, I longed for a family of my own. By five I already understood a great deal. My father had been a scholar, and he never spoke of my mother — except once, right before he died, when he said my mother had been the most beautiful woman in the world. There was a look of love and longing in his eyes as he said it, and he told me having had a wife like that, what regret could he possibly hold. Naturally, my own standards for a wife were high. I believed Li Qingfei, at least in appearance, was certainly a fine match — but I still wished I could choose for myself.

Still, I couldn’t go against the prince’s wishes. If he wanted me to get close to the Crown Prince this way, to work undercover in the Eastern Palace, he surely had his reasons — I sensed a storm brewing over Ning Guo’s succession. Whether Prince Anqing was thinking of the Fourth Prince or of Liu Jue, once he gave the order, I had no objections.

At the Crown Prince’s night banquet, Qingfei lied against her conscience to frame her younger sister, for the sake of my future — and that was when I first truly began to notice her. Her frightened, flustered expression stirred my pity, and I spoke up to shield her. That reckless, single-minded devotion she showed for my sake made me feel that warmth again. Someone like Fei’er, who’d frame her own sister without a shred of conscience, might be despised by many — but she was exactly what I wanted, because in her heart there was room for no one but me. I married her almost gladly. And sure enough, I felt that warmth of family again, a happiness I couldn’t contain.

I asked Prince Anqing, puzzled, “You knew she’d suit me?”

He answered with a grin, “Because I know the Li family far too well. And I know you too.”

I laughed. The last trace of hesitation in my heart dissolved. Though it had been an order, I could tell his heart had been looking out for me all along. That night, I learned that the young lord, my young master Liu Jue, had fallen for Fei’er’s younger sister — meaning he too would become my brother-in-law. The sense of being part of one family only grew stronger.

Not long after, tensions rose in Wind City. The Ministry of Rites kept me fairly idle, and once the weddings were settled, I set about laying out our network of hidden watchers as ordered. I personally oversaw all of the Black Robes’ agents across the realm and in the other four kingdoms, and intelligence flowed steadily into my hands. I reported to Prince Anqing alone. If the young lord wanted information, I passed it to him too, but I never once revealed myself to him. When Prince Li went to the border city to relieve the old prince, I began seeing him often. He wouldn’t let the young lord return to Wind City, and for three years all his affection went to me instead, which left me feeling guilty toward Liu Jue.

Three years later the King of Ning fell gravely ill. I feigned illness to slip away to the border city to deliver word. Prince Li, like Liu Jue, had fallen for Fei’er’s sister, A’Luo, which unsettled me. Thinking ahead to how I’d need to help secure his ascension, and thinking of Liu Jue, I moved many of our people into the palace ahead of time and drew closer to the Crown Prince, becoming, to all appearances, a core member of his faction. The Grand Marshal trusted me deeply and put me in charge of the palace’s defenses. Moving in and out of the Eastern Palace, I discovered the underground chamber Wang Yanhui had built. I explored it twice, nearly triggering its mechanisms and coming within a hair of death, but eventually I understood its full layout.

The old prince told me to keep supporting the Crown Prince and to protect A’Luo. I wanted to move early and save her, but he told me to hold back until the very last moment. I didn’t understand at first — not until I was hiding in the underground chamber, having disarmed its mechanisms, and overheard Liu Fei and Wang Yanhui talking. Only then did I admire the old prince all over again. Had I acted too soon, I never would have learned that Prince Li had set Wang Yanhui up as his own pawn, or the secret behind how smoothly the palace was ultimately seized.

I’d assumed Liu Jue could marry A’Luo the way I’d married Fei’er. I never expected Wang Yanhui would drug her with Soul-Losing Jade-Wick Incense, a secret poison from Xia Guo in the southwest. The old prince was consumed with guilt, and so was I — we hadn’t managed to protect her.

Once Liu Jue learned I was Dark Night, he kept seeking me out to drink, asking me to compete with him for A’Luo’s affection just to help him let her go. Those were hard days to watch him live through. Though we were the same age, I always thought of him as a younger brother. He and Prince Anqing shared the same nature — around family, they couldn’t help letting a childlike honesty show. I loved that quality in them. If you had to guard yourself even around family, life would be exhausting.

Liu Jue decided to take A’Luo away. I supported him, and personally smuggled her out of the palace myself. I hoped they could run far away together, but the old prince said to me, “They won’t get far — that’s exactly why I’ve arranged for them to go to the valley.”

“Why? Why can’t you let them run free? With everything we’ve arranged over the years, they could easily vanish and live under new names!” I felt a flash of discontent.

“Shiyue, one day, when you face the same situation yourself, you’ll understand. There are some things you simply have to face.” The old prince’s expression turned grave and full of something like reluctance as he said this.

I didn’t understand, but I knew there were things he still hadn’t told me. I trusted that when the time came for me to know, I would — so I chose not to ask.

Sometimes, looking at Fei’er, I’d think of Liu Jue and A’Luo — their fate crueler than mine. Liu Jue was Prince Anqing’s own flesh and blood, yet the prince’s love for me was no less than what he gave his son — perhaps I even had more of his time. It had been that way since childhood, and even after we returned to Wind City, I’d monopolized him for another three years. My love for Fei’er only deepened; she was already carrying my child. I hoped Liu Jue and A’Luo could marry soon too. But things rarely go as one hopes.

Prince Li wanted the realm — and for all his love for A’Luo, he still let Chu Nan abduct her. This time, I was determined to bring her back to Liu Jue no matter the cost, even at the risk of my life.

I tangled with Chu Nan. A’Luo was clever — she kept sending signals the whole way. I was no match for Chu Nan in combat, but I could see how anxious he was over her, which struck me as almost absurd. Fei’er’s sister really was trouble — I found myself thanking the old prince all over again for matching me with an ordinary wife. If I’d fallen for a woman like A’Luo, I’d have spent every day in a state of terror.

Chu Nan’s skill was far beyond mine. He struck me with his blade and I leapt into the Han River, swimming to shore with the last of my consciousness before I went under.

Liu Jue saved my life. He told me I didn’t need to be Dark Night anymore — he and Prince Anqing both felt for me the same way, and hoped I could live out my days peacefully with Fei’er as Cheng Shiyue. He said calmly, “You’ve already done more than enough for my household. You don’t need to repay any more debts. From now on, you are Cheng Shiyue — my brother-in-law!”

I thought it over, then smiled. “After my lord’s wedding, perhaps?” He didn’t understand — it wasn’t only about repaying a debt. I thought of him as family. He’d never know how much love Prince Anqing had given me since I was a child, and he’d never know that Dark Night, in the end, was a man who valued bonds above all.

Once my wound healed, I meant to go find A’Luo in Xia Guo. Chi Feng delivered a sealed letter from Prince Anqing. It read: “If you wish Xia Guo to surrender without a fight, seek out Lady Mingyue. If you find yourself in difficulty, remember you still have an eagle. Whatever happens, you are still my son.”

I didn’t understand it, but I sensed a heaviness in the old prince’s words. He seemed to want me to decide for myself, while making it plain that whatever I chose, he would stand behind me.

I looked in the mirror at the fist-sized black eagle inked on my chest. The eagle was rendered so vividly it seemed ready to spread its wings and take flight. My father had never told me why he’d marked my chest with this eagle — only that I must keep it carefully hidden from outsiders. Only the old prince, Liu Jue, and Fei’er had ever seen it. I’d always assumed it was just an ordinary tattoo, one whose design I simply liked, and never thought much further on it. But from the old prince’s words, I sensed there was something unusual about this eagle.

Entering Xia Guo, I found the same eagle emblazoned on their army’s banners. Could my mother have been from Xia Guo? I went straight for the royal palace. The King of Xia was a man with a high-bridged nose and deep-set eyes, taciturn by nature. I’d seen him once before, in Wind City’s palace, and had even then taken note of the strange look that passed between him and Liu Jian.

He was ambitious, always hoping to join forces with Chen Guo to seize Ning Guo’s richest southern lands. I came to urge his surrender; he gave no clear answer. Since our army had already broken Chen Guo, he didn’t dare openly offend me, but from the look in his eyes, I knew — getting him to surrender without a fight was impossible.

My lightness skill was superb, and no mechanism or secret passage could stop me. Yet he still managed to place me under house arrest. Xia Guo’s mastery of poison was no exaggeration. I knew he didn’t dare kill me outright — even the poison he dosed me with only stripped away my inner strength, keeping me from easily leaving the palace. Since I was there, I made myself comfortable, and became the most troublesome honored guest the King of Xia had ever hosted.

My heart stayed anxious the whole time, since I never once saw the woman said to be capable of making Xia Guo surrender — Lady Mingyue. She was said to be Xia Guo’s Holy Maiden. All the secret poisons of Xia Guo’s tradition came from her hands. Within Xia Guo, her standing equaled the King’s, and the people revered her as something close to divine. The days dragged on, and I had no word of the outside world — only that the palace guard grew tighter with each passing day.

One day, word came from Chen Guo that Ning’s army had won a great victory at Yuncheng. Xia Guo’s Crown Prince Cangxie, seeing the tide turn, pulled back his forces to preserve what remained of Xia Guo’s strength. I was overjoyed, and couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face. The King of Xia’s expression darkened, and he poisoned me again — this poison, too, wasn’t meant to kill me, only to cause unbearable suffering. I lay in bed for four full months. Those four months were like hell itself; anyone else might have died from it, but I was Dark Night — my endurance and tolerance for pain exceeded any ordinary man’s.

Four months passed, and by then Liu Jue had already conquered Chen Guo. The King of Xia told me himself that Ning’s army had crossed the Long River and taken Yilong City. I could see the conflict in him — Xia Guo was too small, and though its terrain and poisons had held Ning’s army at bay for a time, all thirteen of its fortress cities were now under tight siege, and things had grown difficult for them too.

“Ha! Your Majesty, you might as well surrender. Ning’s army can’t break Xia yet, but sooner or later, it will break through your strongholds!” I laughed loudly.

“Hmph. Don’t forget — your life is still in my hands. I’ve endured you long enough. Tomorrow, I’ll kill you and offer your blood to the banners!” The King of Xia spat the words out venomously and stormed off with a sweep of his sleeve.

Tomorrow, then. I lay in bed, gazing out at the sky through the windows on every side. The poison in my body left me utterly without strength, my bones aching and crawling as if gnawed by insects, numb and burning all at once. My heart went cold with a kind of despair. I hadn’t even seen my own son yet — in that moment, more than anything, I longed for my child. Suddenly I remembered the old prince’s words. With trembling hands, I tore open my robe, baring the black eagle on my chest.

The maid keeping watch by my bed let out a startled cry and fled the room. I was stunned — this eagle truly was something extraordinary.

That very night, I met Lady Mingyue. She wore flowing white robes, carrying herself with breathtaking grace, beautiful beyond words. She stood before my bed and gazed at me, transfixed, her cold fingers gently tracing the black eagle on my chest. To my astonishment, I saw a sheen of tears rise in her eyes.

Lady Mingyue dismissed everyone from the room. She lifted the poison from me, tears streaming ceaselessly from those beautiful eyes.

“My lady?” I called out to her carefully.

“Are you still in any pain?” Her voice was soft as a mountain breeze, tinged with an anxiety that seemed to speak of deep worry for me.

I sensed something was about to happen that I didn’t yet understand. I studied her calmly and shook my head with a smile. “My thanks, my lady, for lifting the poison from me.”

She trembled, and the motion sent her silk skirts fluttering like a mountain flower caught in the wind, fragile against a breeze. She studied me for a long while before finally asking, “You came to Xia’s palace to urge our surrender?”

“I did,” I answered evenly.

“If — if this were your country, if you were the King of Xia, would you surrender?”

It was an odd question. I thought it over a long moment, then answered with a smile, “I would. I don’t wish to see so many lives lost. And I’ve never had any hunger to be a king myself.”

Lady Mingyue looked at me, something stirring in her. “Why? Why don’t you wish to be king?”

How was I to answer her? I thought of the peaceful days I’d spent with my father before I turned five, of the warmth Prince Anqing and the Black Robes had given me since, of Fei’er and my son, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I only want to live a simple, happy life with my wife and my son.”

Lady Mingyue’s eyes lit up at that. “You have a son?”

“Yes. Sadly, I came here before I could even see him born.”

Lady Mingyue turned away, and the moonlight through the window fell over her, making her seem almost divine. For some reason, I suddenly recalled my father once telling me my mother had been the most beautiful woman in the world. I found myself gazing at her, transfixed, wondering whether the mother my father had so praised might have carried herself with the same bearing as Lady Mingyue.

“Would you tell me — your father… where is he now?” She suddenly asked about my father.

I frowned slightly, but answered calmly all the same. “My father passed away when I was five.”

The answer sent a visible shudder through Lady Mingyue’s body, and silence spread through the room. She kept her back to me the whole time, so I couldn’t see her expression. Could it be — could she have known my father?

Then I heard her let out a long sigh. “So I have a grandson after all.”

I was stunned. “What did you say?!”

“You are my son. When I was young, I traveled to the border city, and there I met your father… and so you came to be. That eagle — I was the one who marked it on you. Your name is Shiyue, ‘longing for the moon’… he always meant to long for me, didn’t he? Even to his death?” Lady Mingyue turned back to face me, speaking softly. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and looking into the light in her eyes, I suddenly recalled the very same light I’d seen in my father’s eyes as he lay dying — identical. I didn’t ask her what had passed between her and my father. Seeing that same light in her eyes was enough to tell me they had loved each other.

She — Xia Guo’s Holy Maiden, a queen in her own right, Lady Mingyue — was my mother?! I stared at her, speechless, before finally managing to ask, “Then isn’t Cangxie my brother?!”

“No — he only resembles me closely, so I took him in as my own. The King of Xia had no heir of his own, and so he threw himself into power, determined to expand his territory. I felt I owed him for it, and never did much to stop him. But now you’ve come, Shiyue! You could become his son instead — the next King of Xia!” There was an urgency in Lady Mingyue’s voice.

At last I understood what the old prince had meant — that there were things I would have to face and choose for myself.

But I didn’t need long to decide. I smiled and said, “If you can grant me one wish, let it be that Xia Guo surrenders, and this war end as soon as possible.”

Within two days, the King of Xia agreed to be named a marquis, and Xia Guo became a vassal territory of Ning Guo. I never learned exactly how Lady Mingyue persuaded him, but my mission was complete, and it was time for me to leave.

Toward her, I couldn’t quite name what I felt — something between a stranger’s distance and a deep, wordless emotion. Learning so suddenly that I had a mother left my heart in turmoil.

“Shiyue — are you satisfied? Will you… stay?” She asked this carefully, clearly afraid I might not accept her, afraid I might resent her.

Ever since the day she’d lifted the poison and told me I was her son, she’d handled me with the same careful caution. Like my father, she never spoke of what had happened between them all those years ago — as though she wanted to, again and again, but always held herself back in the end.

“Thank you,” I said, kneeling before her and bowing deeply, my head low to the ground. What I thanked her for was sparing so many lives the suffering of war.

Her hand trembled as she reached to help me up, then touched my arm and drew back.

“I need to return to Ning Guo. Fei’er and my son are waiting for me there.”

“Very well.” Her answer was brief. Then, after a moment, she added suddenly, “You’ll never be poisoned again, from this day on. And — if Cangxie refuses to submit, then kill him.”

Watching her beautiful figure turn slowly to walk back inside, I finally found the courage to call out softly, “Thank you… Mother.”

She froze. When she turned back, her face was streaked with tears, her lips trembling with words she couldn’t bring herself to say. She looked at me deeply for one long moment, then turned and walked away.

I called her Mother, and I felt not a trace of resentment toward her. My father had died without a single complaint, and if she chose not to speak of it, surely she had her own reasons for silence. I already had more warmth in my life than I could ask for, had already met more people who were good to me than I deserved. I was content.

She didn’t try to keep me longer. She said she’d once believed she would never see me again in this lifetime, and that seeing me again, knowing she now had a grandson, was enough to satisfy her. She said that with Xia Guo no more, she would retreat into the mountains to cultivate in solitude, apart from the world. Perhaps one day, if I ever tired of staying in Ning Guo, I could bring my family to see her.

There were far too many secrets buried in years past that I knew nothing of. Though I commanded the Black Robes’ pigeon network and gathered intelligence from across the realm, I found, in that moment, not the slightest urge to dig further.

I left the palace of Xia just as Ning Guo’s envoys were about to arrive. I knew my mother watched me leave the whole while. I didn’t dare look back — in that instant, I realized just how much I longed to stay a little longer with her, since she was, after all, my mother, the one I’d always yearned for.

Partway down the mountain, I turned and bowed three times toward the palace of Xia, then laughed and walked on.

Back in Yilong City, Liu Jue moved to embrace me just as the old prince always did. Two grown men embracing struck me as rather absurd — yet warmth still spread through my chest all the same.

I recognized Cangxie at a glance — he looked remarkably like my mother, Lady Mingyue. I had no wish to kill him, but seeing him poison Liu Jue, I feared what might come of sparing him. So I rushed forward, placing myself before Liu Jue, and without hesitation struck a blow that shattered the arteries around his heart. I never told him I was Lady Mingyue’s true son — let him die believing himself Xia Guo’s Prince Cangxie to the end. Still, it grieved me, as though I’d killed my own brother with my own hands — a sorrow beyond measure.

Just as the old prince had predicted, once Liu Jue got close enough, he caught my scent. When his gaze swept across my chest, I knew at once he’d guessed everything.

I asked him, “Do you want to know why?”

Liu Jue shook his head. “You’re my brother. You have your own reasons. Not every reason needs explaining to someone else.”

Warmth flooded my chest once more. How fortunate I’d been in this life. I had Fei’er, who loved only me. I had my son, my own flesh and blood. I had Prince Anqing’s love for me, no less than what he gave Liu Jue. Liu Jue saw me as a brother — the Black Robes had always stood together like true brothers, every one of them fierce and loyal. And now, I had even found my mother. What more could I possibly want?

Well — there was one thing. Realizing the old prince had kept all this from me the whole time, I found myself sulking at him. Back in Wind City, I refused to speak to him. He feared nothing in this world except my silence — I wondered what Liu Jue would think if he knew.

I let Prince Anqing work to win me over, coax me back into good humor, and felt that familiar urge to cry rising in me again. As a child, I’d sometimes sulked at him just this way, and he’d always coaxed and appeased me the same way back then too.

I was a grown man now, and I simply wanted to see what he’d come up with this time to win me back.

“Ahem, Shiyue — tell me, what do you suppose will happen if my son can’t find a bride by his wedding day?” Prince Anqing proposed slyly.

I tried to keep a stern face, but couldn’t hold it long before breaking into a smile.

He laughed so hard his beard trembled, clapping me on the shoulder with a long sigh of relief. “It’ll be quite the show — I’m placing my bets now!”

His scheme was simple: let me watch the spectacle of Liu Jue scrambling to find himself a bride. I couldn’t help laughing out loud.

“So… you’re not angry at me anymore? I only just found out myself, not long ago…”

Prince Anqing then told me that he too had only recently learned the truth — it was when Wang Yanhui used the Soul-Losing Jade-Wick Incense from Xia Guo to harm A’Luo that he’d sent Chi Feng to investigate. Chi Feng discovered the King of Xia had long been in league with the Wang family, and in the course of it, learned that Lady Mingyue’s chosen successor was said to bear a black eagle upon her body.

I shot him a sidelong glance. “I’ll take that bet with you — but if you lose, you’d better pay me back in full!”

His old face crinkled into a grin, and he promised again and again, “Of course, of course. Shiyue, you truly are a good son — far better than Liu Jue. That little rascal, the moment he takes a wife he’ll forget all about his old father, hmph!”

And so, the two of us laid our plans together, and laughed until our sides ached.

In truth, there was one question I’d never asked him — why he never took the throne of Ning Guo for himself. But I no longer needed to ask. Had he become King of Ning, would we ever have known days as peaceful and content as these?