Yuanxi had vanished without a trace, like a stone cast into the vast ocean, disappearing silently and completely.
That day, the two hidden guards waited outside the Chancellor’s residence for a long time. Only when the sky gradually darkened did they sense something was amiss. When they inquired with the residence’s steward, they learned that the young miss had already left long ago, though no one knew from where she had departed.
When Xiao Du received this news, he had already been standing at the entrance of the Marquis residence for several hours. The hidden guards knelt before him with guilt-stricken faces, begging for punishment, but Xiao Du merely stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing into the distance. His face showed neither sorrow nor joy, and the blood-red setting sun stretched his shadow into something extraordinarily lonely.
Then he turned and walked back into the house, taking out each and every item Yuanxi had left behind to examine them carefully, hoping to find something she had left for him—even if it were just a piece of paper with a single sentence. But he found nothing. It turned out that when someone was determined to disappear, they wouldn’t leave even the slightest trace, because she feared that any words would become shackles that would grow into sharp grains of sand over the years, causing wounds to bleed profusely at the slightest touch.
He frowned as he rummaged through everything, becoming increasingly agitated. Suddenly he remembered that during those confused and muddled days, there was one time when Yuanxi had suddenly sat up straight in bed, grasping his hand and saying, “A’Du, we cannot let them succeed. Our lives cannot be manipulated by them.”
He suddenly understood—she was using her departure as an act of resistance. If her fate was already predetermined, at least she could secure him a chance at hope. But how could a young lady who had been sheltered in the inner chambers for over ten years manage to leave so resolutely and alone, taking nothing with her and leaving nothing behind? What would she live on? Would she be cold? Would she go hungry? Would she, like him, feel as though she had fallen into eternal night?
Xiao Du reached out to caress each item before him. That emerald-patterned outer robe was one she had worn just yesterday. This double-phoenix pearl hairpin he had personally placed in her hair. And outside the window, that delicate yellow flower had already begun to bud and would soon bloom in full glory, yet the person who should stand beneath it would never return.
He sat there holding this pile of memories for a long time, until darkness completely engulfed him. Then, in his daze, he actually fell asleep with her garments as his pillow. After some unknown time had passed, he seemed to hear her calling his name, so he jerked awake and rushed out the door. But outside there were only undulating rooftops, the vast twilight, and night winds sweeping in from all directions. Between heaven and earth, finally only he remained alone.
Perhaps this was her purpose. The path ahead of him was still too long to allow for any weakness or failure. From now on he would have no retreat, no attachments, and could only stake everything on charging forward in battle, never stopping until victory was achieved.
But without you, what meaning would any of this have?
Come May, it was time for His Majesty’s thousandth birthday celebration. On Zhong Mountain in the outskirts of the capital, sturdy pines stood tall and green vines flourished luxuriantly. The red flowers of early summer scattered profusely across the sky before settling in layers among the forest streams. Beside the clear flowing water, a wild deer was lowering its head to drink when suddenly the rapid sound of galloping hooves and barking hunting dogs came from the distance. It stared in terror with widened eyes, then raised its hooves and began leaping forward in swift flight.
A mounted party quickly emerged from behind. The leader wore black riding attire and carried himself with noble bearing. The mountain wind howled fiercely, causing his bound black hair to flutter constantly. Seeing that the wild deer was about to dash into the forest, he quickly nocked an arrow to his bow and drew it to full tension before releasing. The arrow’s force pierced through the sky, striking the deer squarely in the throat. The man quickly reined in his horse and bent down to look closely. The deer that had been so vigorous just moments before now lay lifeless. Many guards immediately surrounded him, all praising in unison: “Your Majesty’s archery is divine—we subordinates truly cannot match your skill.”
But Zhao Yan only smiled faintly. How could he not know that these men had deliberately held back their full effort just to let him strike the prey? Thinking of this made him lose interest, and he didn’t even bother to glance again at the trophy on the ground.
Observing his expression, one of them quickly flattered him further: “I’ve heard that Your Majesty once hunted a fierce tiger with glaring eyes on this very mountain. They say that tiger was nearly twice the size of an ordinary tiger, blessed with natural divine strength—truly the king among tigers. Since Your Majesty could capture even the Tiger King, naturally you wouldn’t be interested in these common small creatures.”
Zhao Yan’s expression grew even more somber, making those around him feel increasingly uneasy. He suddenly pulled on the reins and galloped forward rapidly, leaving behind only these words: “I’m going to ride higher up the mountain. None of you are to follow.” The horse beneath him was indeed a divine steed tribute from the Western Regions. The others couldn’t quite fathom His Majesty’s intentions and didn’t dare follow too closely, so gradually they fell farther and farther behind.
Zhao Yan galloped all the way to the mountain peak, finally dismounting to gaze down at the mountain below. Before him stretched steaming clouds and glowing mists with peaks faintly visible in the distance. He slightly narrowed his eyes, as if through this thick haze he could see from over a decade ago two youths, one in black and one in white, riding side by side up from the mountain’s base. Their faces bore expressions of complete arrogance and wild abandon, as if the entire world lay beneath their feet and nothing was worthy of their fear.
That day had been his fourteenth birthday, and also the day Father Emperor formally proclaimed him Crown Prince. He still remembered how Chong Jiang had laughed with such spirited confidence, saying to him: “I heard there’s a Tiger King on Zhong Mountain in the outskirts. Ming Cheng, just wait—I’ll definitely strip off his tiger hide to make you a birthday gift.” Xiao Du had entered the palace at age ten to study alongside him. The two were similar in age and shared common interests, entering and leaving together daily, their bond as deep as that of blood brothers. So he never addressed him as “Your Highness,” always calling him by name directly, and he was happy to accept this unique intimacy.
But the plan that day still went awry. That tiger was larger than either of them had imagined, and even with several arrows in its body, it could still fiercely pounce toward him. When those sharp claws were almost about to tear open his throat, he felt fear for the first time, secretly cursing their recklessness in sneaking up the mountain without bringing a single attendant.
But those claws never fell upon him. In that critical moment, Xiao Du charged forward, using his own back to shield him from this fatal blow. Then he showed a triumphant smile and backhanded the dagger hidden in his sleeve to slash the fierce tiger’s throat.
The foul-smelling blood sprayed all over both of them as the Tiger King toppled backward like a mountain of flesh. Zhao Yan would never forget how Chong Jiang looked—his back torn open with a wound so deep the bone was visible, yet smiling with such joy. Enduring the severe pain in his back, he simply treated the wound and used his dagger to carve off the entire tiger hide. Then he knelt down, half-seriously and half-jokingly: “I offer this tiger hide as tribute and congratulate Your Highness on your future great achievements. When you one day rule over all under heaven, I shall guard this realm for you.”
Watching those eyes that sparkled brightly in the morning light, with the vast rivers and mountains as backdrop, his heart ignited with boundless heroic spirit. So he too assumed a serious expression and straightened his chest, solemnly placing that tiger hide back in his hands: “Very well. In the future when I am Emperor and you are General, together we shall guard this realm well.”
Then both burst into laughter and playfully wrestled together. At that time neither of them understood what treachery and fickleness lay hidden on the path to the summit, how that sincerity and warmth would be buried in the dust of sealed years, never to be recovered.
Just then, rustling sounds suddenly came from the nearby forest, abruptly dragging Zhao Yan out of his memories. He frowned, and before he could call for guards to come forward, an arrow “whooshed” past his side. Then that familiar figure seemed to break through memory to walk toward him.
Zhao Yan’s heart immediately filled with sharp alertness. The silver bow gripped tightly in Xiao Du’s hand made his pupils contract suddenly. At this moment, the guards heard something unusual and quickly surrounded them from all sides. Xiao Du swept a contemptuous glance at the crowd, then mockingly curved his lips: “What, does Your Majesty now fear even me?”
Zhao Yan finally regained his usual composure, raising his hand to stop the others from advancing further, then laughed easily: “All of you withdraw. Don’t you recognize the illustrious Marquis Xuanyuan? He is my old friend and close companion—how could he possibly harm me?”
The others looked at each other in confusion, then noticed the corpse of a venomous snake lying at Zhao Yan’s feet, pinned firmly by that long arrow not far from his feet.