It was because of a past life — that past life where you were not a good husband and had not taken proper care of our child — that I can no longer draw near to you. Even in this lifetime, though you are blameless, though you believe yourself to love me to such a degree, I still cannot draw near to you. I can cease to hate you — you are not the person you once were — but I cannot forget the past, nor can I take the place of that Xi’er from the past life and make peace with you.

In this present life, you are so fortunate, knowing nothing of what came before. Xi’er, too, has forgotten the vow of resentment he once swore against you. You are not father and son, yet you are better than father and son. In Xi’er’s eyes, you are the greatest hero he has ever revered.

This is enough. It is good, just as it is.

Mu Fulan thought these thoughts in a daze, until a wave of pain reached her — pain from her shoulders, where he had gripped her with all ten fingers. Her eyes were dry and stinging, as though her tears were about to be blown loose by the mountain wind that swept ceaselessly against her face.

She closed her eyes for a moment. When the aching sourness had subsided, she opened them again.

“Why did you still chase me all the way here?” she asked him, her voice gentler than it had ever been.

“Is it because you love me, that you would do something so rash?”

The man gave her no answer. His lips were pressed shut in stubborn silence. His expression was like stone, only the web of red veins spreading slowly across the depths of his eyes growing ever redder, as though a spider’s web had been woven there.

“You desire to seize this realm because you crave supreme power — it is instinct that drives you. You provide for your mother because she gave you your body and your life — it is only right and natural. And I? Why can you not let me go?”

“Changgeng,” she said, gazing at him steadily, her voice in the wind still as gentle as before.

“If you would only look honestly at your own heart, you would not find this difficult to understand. A person of your birth and experience — every step you take, every ounce you give, you expect a return. In my case, you believe you have given much and received nothing in return. You are unwilling to accept this. Having sought and not obtained, you have fallen into obsession, and you refuse to relent.”

“I only ask you — why do you hate me so deeply?”

“I want you to say it!”

Mu Fulan shook her head.

“You are mistaken. I do not hate you as deeply as all that. In this lifetime, from the day I married you through these past several years, nothing you have done has been so greatly wrong that it would cause me to hate you to such a degree. On the contrary, I hold a measure of gratitude toward you — for your generosity in treating Xi’er as a father would. But Changgeng, you heard my words to Nanny Mu that night. Every judgment I passed upon you at that time was also my settled assessment of you. If I were to give you my heart, to entrust myself to you, I would have to be prepared to be cast aside by you at any moment, for whatever reason. Your considerations are too many. In this world, apart from the throne and your mother, there is likely nothing else that could command your wholehearted devotion. And I will absolutely not entrust my life again to such a man. Do you understand? This is why I keep my distance, why I have gone to every possible length — even at the cost of my own reputation — to walk a separate path from you.”

“On what basis do you pass such judgment upon me?” he said. “Even granting that I am obsessed and unwilling to relent, you yourself have admitted that I have committed no great wrong. Setting aside the fact that you pass such a judgment on me based on your own conjecture alone — you would extend this condemnation into the future as well. Where is the justice in that?”

“Then let me ask you — if you could only choose one between me and the throne, which would you choose?”

He seemed startled, and paused. “How could you harbor such an absurd notion?”

“I want you to renounce the throne for my sake. Can you do it?” she pressed.

“Jun Mountain has its divine presences. Swear to them — swear that if ever in the future there comes a moment where you can only choose one between me and your imperial ambitions, you will choose me and abandon the imperial cause. If you do, I will follow you without regret or complaint.”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Mu Fulan smiled.

“You see — you are unwilling to swear,” she said.

“It is not that I am deliberately making things difficult for you. It is simply that, if it came to it — if you had to give me up for the sake of the throne — you would certainly do so.”

He looked at her, his expression deeply shadowed.

“To demand such a choice from you is, as you say, truly absurd. How could a woman be weighed against a kingdom? And besides, everyone has their hardships. But do you remember what I once said to you, back in Guzang? A good husband — if he were to fall into difficulty and need me, I would be willing to give my life for him. And if I were ever in danger, I would know that he, too, would do everything in his power to help me equally. I was not humoring you that day. I meant every word. When all is said and done, you and I are simply not people walking the same path. Why must you spin your own cocoon and torment yourself?”

The setting sun in the west, riding the waves of Dongting, sank beneath the surface of the water.

Dusk deepened suddenly. On the clifftop, crows circled the treetops in a clamorous racket.

“Once your wound has healed, go. This place is not suited for a long stay.”

She moved to lift his hands from her shoulders. His fingers curved rigid, as though frozen stiff by ice and snow, and she could not shift them even a fraction.

She slowly raised her gaze to meet the eyes of the man before her.

“Changgeng, the one I once fell for was the person who rescued the little bird here for my sake. You know it yourself — you have never been him.”

She finished speaking and waited quietly.

A violent gust of wind surged in from the distant lake, sweeping up over the cliff, sending her robes whipping wildly.

Those hands — the knuckles slowly loosened, strength seeming to seep away thread by thread. At last, utterly released, they slid from her body without force.

In the dim, fading twilight, Xie Changgeng’s complexion had turned a pale, ashen green, like a mountain demon that emerges only when night falls.

He stood there, rigid, beneath that ancient cypress that had stood in silence for a thousand years, motionless. A moment later, he slowly turned his head and watched her descend along the mountain path, her retreating figure like a form carried on the wind.

“Lan’er…”

Just as that silhouette was about to disappear at the far end of the mountain path, a hoarse, labored call reached his ears. At first he thought he was hearing things; then he quickly realized the sound had come from his own throat.

The graceful figure ahead did not pause, but continued forward, quickening her steps.

Instinctively he stepped forward in pursuit, but after only a few strides, he faltered and stopped. In the end he closed his mouth, pressing his lips together tightly, and stood beneath the tree like a stone pillar — until the sky turned dark, and the mountaintop was swallowed entirely by the dim curtain of night.

…

Mu Fulan was informed by her attendants that Xie Changgeng had departed alone by boat in the dead of night.

The following morning, to the east of Dongting’s waters, the dawn’s silver river stretched to meet the first light of day. Mu Fulan boarded a boat and returned to the city.

This was, in the three years that followed, the last time she ever set foot on Jun Mountain. After her departure, she never climbed those slopes again. Not long after she left, in the early spring of the following year, a bolt of lightning struck with the first thunderclap of the season, splitting that ancient thousand-year-old cypress on the clifftop, uprooting it completely, and the old tree was burned by the lightning’s fire until it became nothing but a piece of dead wood.

The ancient cypress of Jun Mountain, which the people had revered as a sacred tree, had been destroyed by heavenly thunder. For quite a long stretch of time, this news threw the populace into great alarm — they feared that Changsha would suffer some calamity. Yet although the outside world was in turbulence, with the banners atop city walls forever changing hands, Changsha remained in peace and security. The regent, though a woman, governed with a balance of leniency and strictness, with clear rewards and punishments, administering Changsha in a manner that was orderly and without the slightest inferiority to the Mu clan’s former kings. The hearts of the people gradually, at last, settled.

It was the third anniversary of the royal elder brother’s passing. In accordance with the Mu royal family’s century-old tradition, after the ancestral temple rites had been performed, a visit to the Great Emperor’s Hall on Jun Mountain was required to make offerings and pray for blessings.

On this day, three years after that night, Mu Fulan once again ascended Jun Mountain. As she descended from the Great Emperor’s Hall with the officials and attendants of Changsha, the official in charge of the rites informed her that the sacred tree, burned to a char by lightning three years prior, had miraculously put forth new branches and was flourishing once more.

All the Changsha officials who heard this were overjoyed, and agreed it was an auspicious omen that should be spread throughout the populace, so that the people might share in the good news.

Mu Fulan paused, turned her head, and gazed toward that distant clifftop for a moment in a quiet reverie. She said a single word — “Good” — then turned and descended the mountain.

She returned to the palace and the first thing she asked about was A’Ru.

After the royal elder brother had passed, his wife, Lady Lu, had fallen into excessive grief and sorrow, and a year later had also died of illness. Having lost both her parents one after another, A’Ru had become, in Mu Fulan’s eyes, as dear to her as her own daughter.

Every year around the time of her elder brother and sister-in-law’s death anniversaries, A’Ru’s spirits grew very low. Two days prior, the attendants had told Mu Fulan that the young princess had been secretly weeping when she thought no one was watching. Mu Fulan had been worried about her, so the moment she returned from outside she asked after her. Learning that Xi’er was keeping A’Ru company in the palace’s riding ground, she went to find them.

The palace had enclosed a stretch of land at the rear for use as a riding ground. When Mu Fulan arrived, she saw A’Ru seated on the back of Xiaolong Ma, while Xi’er was helping her hold the reins, teaching her the essentials of riding.

In the blink of an eye, Xi’er had been back at her side for five years.

He was not yet ten years old, yet he had already grown quite tall — past Mu Fulan’s shoulder — and had become a handsome young lad on the cusp of adolescence.

Xiaolong Ma was also five now, no longer the thin and frail creature Xi’er had first encountered. He was a horse in the prime of his youth, his coat gleaming, robust and magnificent.

“A’Ru jiejie, don’t be afraid — Xiaolong Ma is one I met back in Hexi when I was younger. He was only a few months old when he started following me, and he listens to me very well. He knows that I helped you onto his back, so he won’t let you fall. Try stroking his ear — if he makes a purring sound, it means he likes you.”

A’Ru reached out and carefully stroked Xiaolong Ma’s ear, then leaned her head down a little and listened closely.

Xiaolong Ma shook his head and emitted a soft rumbling sound from his throat.

“I really heard it! He really did purr!” A’Ru sat up straight in delighted surprise, and for the first time in many days, a smile broke across her face.

“Xiaolong Ma likes A’Ru jiejie. Jiejie, you should smile more — it would be even better.”

“A’di, teach me to ride! The guards say you are incredibly skilled — not only can you shoot arrows while riding, you shoot with great precision!”

“All right, A’Ru jiejie, listen to my commands.”

…

Mu Fulan watched the figure of that young lad who was so focused on keeping his little elder sister company, doing his best to make her forget her grief. Her heart filled with boundless warmth and contentment. Not wishing to disturb them, she quietly turned back, and was informed that Lu Lin had come seeking her on a matter of business and was waiting for her.