Before leaving Shangjing, Zhang Ting’an took the blade he had carried through countless battles and cut a stack of old, yellowed letters in half, one by one.

“Yuhuai.” A voice drifted toward him from memory, warm with laughter.

His eyelids trembled as he looked up, and there was Li Bingsheng — her hair still unbound — smiling as she leaned down toward him. “Why are you hiding here again? Don’t you want to see me?”

Back then, his academic performance had been abysmal. Among all the imperial study companions, he had stood out as a complete misfit — even the Grand Tutor had declared that he was a disgrace to the Zhang Family name.

But Li Bingsheng didn’t care. She always managed to find him in whatever forgotten corner he had tucked himself into, and then she would extend her clean, delicate hand toward him. “Take me fishing, will you?”

“Your Highness ought to prioritize your studies.”

“There are already enough people saying that to me. I don’t want to hear it from you too.” She pouted in displeasure, her fair skin flushed with a soft, luminous pink.

Zhang Ting’an still didn’t know what had come over him — he had actually agreed to help her climb over the palace wall.

Her delicately embroidered shoes pressed down onto his shoulder. The moment he glanced up, he was so startled that he lost his balance and instinctively lurched to the side.

“Ah——” She came tumbling down.

He shot his arms out and caught her.

Her skirts billowed around her — even layered as they were, the fabric was so light and thin that he could feel the warmth of her body through them.

Zhang Ting’an set her down and immediately dropped to his knees, head bowed to the ground, ready to accept death.

But Li Bingsheng burst into delighted laughter, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the grape vines nearby, ducking away from the passing palace guards.

The green vines grew thick and lush, their leaves overlapping in dense tangles. In the narrow shade beneath them, Li Bingsheng fixed her gaze on him for a long moment — then suddenly rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Zhang Ting’an didn’t dare move a muscle.

He thought she was incredibly soft — one touch and she might shatter. He thought she smelled wonderful, like sweet, glistening grapes.

That night he dreamed: a dream filled with billowing skirts and a pair of phoenix eyes curved beautifully in laughter.

When he woke, his bedding was soiled. He blushed to the roots of his ears and washed it himself — and then, while washing, he gave himself an aggravated punch.

From that day on, Li Bingsheng made a habit of cornering him — sometimes pulling him into an embrace, sometimes stealing a kiss.

Lips intertwined, a young heart stirred.

He thought she liked him.

He began to diligently study the political essays he hated, to practice his calligraphy and painting with dedication — all so that at the next small examination, he might rank high enough to sit closer to her in the lecture hall.

But on the day the results were announced, when he went to find her, he saw her pressing another study companion into the shadow of those same grape vines — the same intertwining vines, the same tender intimacy.

Zhang Ting’an let the hand holding his exam scroll fall to his side.

He returned to his studies anyway, throwing himself into them with even greater intensity — until she couldn’t help but saunter over and tease him: “Working yourself this hard just to sit closer to me?”

The hard work was real. But it was no longer for her.

He finished all of his coursework ahead of schedule, passed the examinations, and left the palace to return to the Zhang Family without looking back.

She came storming after him, cornering him against the courtyard wall and demanding: “Have you fallen for someone else?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to see me anymore?”

“Yes.”

He had assumed she would give up and retreat — but he had forgotten that she had been born into the imperial family, and imperial blood ran proud. When her temper rose, she simply shoved him into an empty woodshed.

“Your Highness!”

“If you dare resist, I’ll have your entire clan exterminated!”

“……”

“See? You do like me, don’t you — would you react like this in front of whoever you claim to have feelings for?”

“Don’t say another word……”

He had been raised by the strictest grandmother in the Zhang Family, and he had been governed by the most rigid propriety: men and women were not to draw near to one another, and even a meeting required a third party present.

Yet in those years when he was still a teenager, in that dim and shadowy woodshed, something in him had broken loose — he had turned, and found her pinned beneath him.

“Yuhuai, would you be willing to like only me?” She wrapped her arms around him and asked softly.

Zhang Ting’an did not answer then.

All those years of youth had been spent within the Eastern Palace. He accompanied her in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting; he accompanied her over walls and into trouble; even when they were punished, he knelt behind her and quietly slipped a cushion beneath her knees.

Aside from her, who else could he possibly like?

In the midst of their tangled closeness, he finally couldn’t hold back the question that had been festering in him: “That day beneath the grape vines — who were you kissing?”

“The grape vines?” Li Bingsheng raised an eyebrow. “The only person I’ve ever kissed under those vines is you.”

“Liar.”

“Truly.”

He grew angry, enunciating each word with precision: “The eighth day of the second lunar month, two years ago. After the small examination results were posted.”

Li Bingsheng tilted her head and thought for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “Are you blind? That wasn’t a kiss — that was the Min Family boy who was always bullying you. I was settling a score with him. Just because he’s shorter than me doesn’t mean you get to think I was kissing him.”

Zhang Ting’an: “……”

The knot that had been twisted tight in his chest for two years finally, at last, came undone.

He pulled her close and apologized, his face burning red.

He also told her that once he had secured a position of the fourth rank, he would petition His Majesty for her hand in marriage.

Li Bingsheng laughed brightly, as though there was something she wanted to say — but in the end, she swallowed it back.

“All right then.” She said. “When we’re both of age, you may come and marry me.”

The wild joy that surged through him in that moment — he did not yet know that the promises of the young are the most beautiful things in the world, and the most impossible to keep.

·

Zhang Ting’an began spending all of his time at her side. When he could no longer serve as a study companion, he became a guard instead. When she read, he stood watch; when she argued with people, he protected her; when she wandered about for leisure, he accompanied her — he even stood beside her when she tended her flowers, handing her the watering can.

The Great Sheng Dynasty had no shortage of those who coveted the position of Crown Princess, and assassination attempts came one after another. In the beginning, Li Bingsheng had sometimes been caught unguarded — but since Zhang Ting’an had come into her service, no assassin had ever managed to draw within three paces of her. Eventually, he would be fighting at the vanguard while she reclined serenely in her palanquin, sipping tea.

Sipping tea — and watching that figure in the distance grow ever more formidable, her eyes curved in a smile.

Li Bingsheng treated him well in return. She would fly into a fury on his behalf, defend him fiercely, and praise his skill with a bright, easy smile. There was even a time when he had failed in his duty and she had been poisoned — and she had knelt before His Majesty with pale lips, pleading for his life.

Zhang Ting’an felt he could give anything for Li Bingsheng. Even his life.

But in the year Li Bingsheng turned sixteen, another man appeared at her side — a man personally bestowed upon her by His Majesty.

In appearance, that man bore perhaps eight out of ten parts’ resemblance to Zhang Ting’an. Yet Li Bingsheng showed him a full ten parts of her favor: she risked sneaking out of the palace herself to buy him pastries; she brought him to the highest tower in the palace walls to watch the sea of clouds.

At first Zhang Ting’an told himself she was only going through the motions to satisfy His Majesty.

But on his own birthday, everyone else had come — everyone except her. Worried, he had gone to look for her, and he had found her with that man, tucked into a corner, the two of them wrapped in each other in a way that had no audience in mind.

This time he had been careful to look from several different angles.

He had not been mistaken.

Li Bingsheng was truly kissing that man. Even when the corner of her eye caught the sight of him standing there in stunned silence, she did not stop.

Zhang Ting’an withdrew quietly. He returned to his own birthday banquet, his face hollow with bewilderment.

His close friend Xun Li came over and laughed: “Just made it to Fourth-Rank Recorder and already you’re this busy? Won’t even drink with me?”

Remembering that Xun Li had always moved in circles close to the imperial princes and princesses, Zhang Ting’an turned to him and asked: “What kind of person do you think the Crown Princess is?”

“Her?” Xun Li smiled. “Politically, she’s impeccable — having her is a blessing for our Great Sheng. It’s just that in her private affairs, she’s rather… free-spirited.”

“Free-spirited… in her private affairs?”

“You didn’t know? The men around her rotate once a year, rarely more. The young man from the Huo Family fell head over heels for her, even got his legs broken in the line of duty — and still, a year later, she cast him aside just the same.”

“And the youngest son of the Liu Family — he was always hovering around her. He fell into her favor for all of eight months, and they say when he was shut up at home afterward, he lost his mind.”

“Then there’s the Min Family boy — cold and proud as he is, our Crown Princess still managed to get under his skin. Word is he’s making a scene with his family, refusing to marry anyone but her. As if he hasn’t thought it through — she’s the Crown Princess, the Crown Princess cannot simply go and marry a mere official.”

“It was only because the Censorate submitted several memorials calling her to be more restrained that things quieted down. Otherwise, I could tell you even more.”

Saying this, Xun Li paused suddenly and turned to look at him: “I hear you’ve been in her service as a guard recently. Don’t tell me you’ve also——”

“Nothing of the sort.” Zhang Ting’an lowered his gaze. After a long moment, he gave a quiet, easy laugh and repeated: “Between her and me — there is nothing.”

“Good.” Xun Li nodded. “Come on then, drink.”

Zhang Ting’an had a strong constitution for wine — he could drink an entire large crock on his own and rarely showed any sign of intoxication.

But that night, everyone assumed he had simply overindulged in the spirit of his own birthday celebration. He drank himself into a complete stupor and had to be half-carried back to his room by three or four people.

When Li Bingsheng arrived, he was leaning against the headboard — covered in filth, having retched more times than could be counted.

“Yuhuai?” She called his name.

Zhang Ting’an opened his eyes. The corners were red, but his gaze was calm and cool — as though he did not recognize her.

“Look at you.” She raised an eyebrow. “The man in the palace just now — was that really you?”

She seemed a little uneasy, but she was, after all, the Crown Princess — she quickly smoothed her expression over, and asked with a bright smile: “Weren’t you saying earlier today that you had something important to tell me? Can you still say it now?”

He nodded.

“I… have been appointed Fourth-Rank Recorder of the Military Bureau.”

Light leaped into Li Bingsheng’s eyes. She watched him with a smile: “And then?”

“And then……” He gently pushed her hand off his knee with a distant composure. “The eastern border at the Xuanhe Pass is in urgent peril. I will be departing shortly to provide support. Please take care of yourself, Your Highness.”

Li Bingsheng’s smile — which had been climbing higher and higher — dropped, slowly and steadily, with each word he spoke.

“You’re leaving Shangjing?”

Zhang Ting’an did not answer. He only leaned his head back and swept his gaze over her in silence.

Li Bingsheng pressed her lips together and rose to her feet: “A man’s ambitions lie in the four corners of the world. Since you wish to go, I have nothing more to say.”

She turned and strode toward the door — but a few steps in, she couldn’t stop herself. She halted at the threshold and looked back: “Is there nothing else you have to say to me?”

Zhang Ting’an clasped his hands together in a tipsy salute: “Wishing Your Highness a most joyous birthday.”

The door swung open, then crashed shut. She left without a single glance behind her.

Zhang Ting’an withdrew his gaze and looked out the window.

Summer had ended. And with it, all of his youthful longing — all of his one-sided devotion — had finally ended as well.

This thing called love held no meaning.

He had no desire to entangle himself in it ever again.

The Zhang Ting’an of the years that followed fought at the Xuanhe Pass with a ferocity unmatched by any — racking up achievement after achievement. By his fourth year there, he was due to be recalled to the capital to receive his commendations.

But he gave the opportunity to Xu Zhenhe instead.

Xu Zhenhe was baffled: “The frontier is a bitter, frozen place — how many generals are desperate to earn enough merit to go home, and here you are, not even willing? What’s the matter with you?”

Zhang Ting’an looked at his own reflection in a bronze mirror, stroked the full beard he had grown, and answered with careless ease: “You’re told to go, so go. Consider it a debt you owe me. Stop asking questions.”

“You really are something else…… Fine. This is a considerable debt — the day you need something from me, Xu Zhenhe will be ready and willing.”

A box beside him was stacked with letters, all sent in urgent relays from Shangjing. Zhang Ting’an sorted through them by their covers: the ones bearing the Zhang Family seal he opened one by one, but those with no return address — he knew who they were from. He tossed them back into the box without even breaking the seal.

·

Now, at last, he was opening them, one by one.

The blade sliced cleanly through the middle of each envelope. A fragrance of flowers — pressed and sealed over years — drifted out with the rustle of aged paper and filled his room.

Zhang Ting’an still did not read what was written inside.

As long as he did not read, he could not be deceived again.

Li Bingsheng was born to be an emperor — she had her own path to walk, and he had the place where he was meant to be.

She had long since been erased from his heart.

Guarding the Xuanhe Pass was the duty a general must shoulder. For as long as he lived, as long as Zhang Ting’an stood at that line, not one inch of that border would be crossed by foreign hands.