It was dusk. At the juncture of Yunmeng and Fuzhou, before the river mouth where the great river opened into Dongting, several dark wooden boats carried the last light of the setting sun on their awnings, oars moving slowly as they made their way across the heart of the river.

A man stood on the bank at the river mouth. He had been standing there for a long while. The dying rays of the sun cast his silhouette behind him onto the ground — a long, lean shadow. His gaze seemed fixed on the canopied shapes of the dark boats on the water ahead, yet also seemed to pass straight through them, sinking deep into some private world known only to himself.

Mu Fulan naturally understood that this branch flowing from the great river, if one followed it from this very mouth, led all the way down to Dongting.

What she could not fathom was why Xie Changgeng had come to be standing here.

She stopped where she was and studied in silence the figure ahead of her, whom she had not seen in several years. After a moment, she spoke: “I received your letter. What is it you need?”

The wind was strong at the river mouth, and her voice, like a wisp of light down, had barely left her lips before it was scattered by the oncoming gust and dispersed into the river on all sides.

Mu Fulan wondered if he perhaps had not heard her. He did not stir, showed no reaction at all, and remained standing exactly as before, his back to her.

Mu Fulan waited a moment. Just as she was about to speak again, she saw that figure slowly turn his face and look toward her.

Their gazes met across the distance — after more than three years, after that one night of meeting at Junshan.

On the riverbank, the reeds rustled softly; a few river herons wheeled and cried behind him at the mouth of the river.

He turned and looked back at her like this, his gaze still and unmoving.

Mu Fulan, too, looked at him.

This man’s appearance was, in truth, not very different from before. But in the moment their eyes met, Mu Fulan felt something upon him — a weariness, as though the weight of a lifetime had left its mark.

This was utterly unlike the person she had imagined him to be.

In her imagination, he should have been radiant with ambition by now, looking down upon all the world — not like this man who was turning to gaze back at her. He looked as though he had already lived through all the world had to offer and seen mountains turned to seas, and had now merely returned to some original starting point of his own.

But quickly, she dismissed that ill-timed impression that had risen in her heart.

Too much time had passed, and the distance between them was a little far. It was nothing but an illusion. She told herself this inwardly.

She remained where she stood, not moving any closer, and watched as he finally turned fully toward her and walked in her direction — closer, and closer still — until at last he stopped, leaving exactly the space of one person between them.

This caused her to relax slowly.

That distance gave her a sense of safety.

“I have come,” she said again. “What is it you need?”

Xie Changgeng gazed at the woman before him, bathed in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

He felt as though he himself had become like a man approaching the end of his days, while she, before him, still looked as youthful as ever — her eyes clear and bright, her beauty without equal.

There had been a time when he had felt deep resentment over his unrequited love, when he had hated her for her coldness. Now he understood everything.

The same beloved person stood before him — yet she would no longer belong to him, and never would again. He knew this.

He was quiet for a moment, then gave her a small nod and opened his mouth, speaking his first words.

“I need to establish a Crown Prince. Xi’er is the one I have in mind. I have asked you to come here to discuss this matter with you,” he said.

Even though, on her way here, Mu Fulan had imagined every manner of possibility, she had not entertained even the faintest notion that when he spoke, these would be the words he said.

She was stunned for a moment. When she was certain she had not misheard, she said at once: “Xie Changgeng, you may become your emperor — Changsha will not stand in the way of your unification of the realm. I will speak plainly: I had already decided to return Changsha to the court. My Mu clan will leave Dongting, and from this day forward, Changsha will have no king. I do not know how you could have arrived at such a notion — it is utterly absurd!”

Xie Changgeng said, “I will ascend the throne, but in this lifetime, I will have no heirs — which is why I need to establish a Crown Prince now. I feel a particular bond with Xi’er, and he is the one I have set my heart upon. Moreover, through a twist of fate, my subordinates have all come to believe he is my son. And so I have come to you to discuss this matter.”

His tone was calm, yet Mu Fulan was shaken beyond measure.

“You say you will have no heirs in this lifetime — what do you mean by that?”

He said nothing.

She studied that face of his, utterly devoid of expression. She hesitated, then suddenly thought of his years of fighting on the front lines — how he had suffered injuries time and again.

An understanding came to her at once, and she was struck again with shock. Connecting this to the first impression she had received of him a moment ago, the sense of confirmation grew even stronger.

“Can it be that you…”

She stopped, unable to bring herself to say it aloud.

“This is my own affair and does not concern you,” he said, his expression still perfectly composed.

“I will have no more heirs — I need to name a Crown Prince. Knowing this is enough for you.”

Mu Fulan looked at this man, and a tide of complex and inexpressible feeling welled up inside her. She felt suddenly that fate played cruel tricks.

She too fell silent.

Xie Changgeng continued, “The world will come to know that our past separation was the result of outside interference, and that you and I are, in truth, still husband and wife…”

He paused.

“Rest assured — I will not compel you to do anything. Once matters have been settled, you may leave at any time thereafter. Dongting will always be yours; this is my repayment to you. The kingdom will never be dissolved, and its people will continue as before. Whatever else you want, you need only say the word — whatever I am able to do, I give you my word I will agree to.”

“If you have someone dear to your heart, you may be with that person freely. I will not interfere in any matter of yours.”

He looked at her as he said this slowly. Beneath his sleeve, the fingers of his hand were clenched tightly.

Mu Fulan stared at the man before her, utterly speechless, with only a single thought left in her mind.

This person, in his obsession to become emperor, would stop at nothing — he was absolutely out of his mind.

She steadied herself and shook her head. “Xie Changgeng, whatever you say, I will never agree to this. What is more — Xi’er himself has no desire to become any Crown Prince!”

Xie Changgeng fixed his gaze on her.

“What if he does?”

Mu Fulan was startled.

“Why not go back and ask him? If he too says no, I will take back my words — I will not force you.”

Mu Fulan held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Remember what you have said.”

With that, she turned and left in hurried strides.

Dusk closed in on all sides. Xie Changgeng watched her figure grow gradually more distant, a solitary and desolate silhouette.

However great the pain in her heart, she had never once, before him, uttered a single word about what lay in the past. It seemed that even now, she had no wish to hear his remorse.

Remorse, in any case, served no purpose.

He would proceed as though none of it had ever happened. If the child wished to be king, let him have his wish fulfilled. Let her, too, become the most honored woman in the world.

This was a debt he had owed from before — and the only reparation he had been able to think of, and to offer, in this lifetime.

Mu Fulan did not linger. That very night, she boarded her carriage and departed, returning to Yue City.

In the streets and alleys of Yue City, the people were still talking of the affairs of the day. The officials of Changsha gathered together as well, speculating on their lady’s intentions, anxious and unsettled about their own future fates.

During all these days, only the young boy in the palace carried on as though nothing at all had happened. After his unauthorized outing several months before, when Yuan Handing had brought him back, he rose early each day to study and practice his martial forms — just as he always had.

It was the hour for classics studies. He sat behind his desk, listening as the doctor who taught him the classics lectured on the passage: “Filial piety is the constant principle of Heaven, the righteous duty of Earth, the practical duty of man” — attentive and composed, his gaze serene and tranquil.

When the doctor had finished the day’s lesson, the boy did as he always did — supported the elderly doctor by the arm and personally saw him to the door.

The old doctor had been deeply troubled by the rumors that had grown louder and louder with each passing day. For once, he went against his usual restraint and could not help asking his most prized pupil: “Young lord, these days, talk about the state of the realm is rampant both within Changsha and without. Does the young lord know what the lady intends to do?”

The young boy smiled gently. “Mother has not spoken to me of such matters. I do not know.”

The old doctor sighed, clasped his hands behind his back, and departed.

The young boy watched him go. The smile on his face slowly faded.

He returned and sat behind his desk for a moment longer, then rose, went to a chest, and took out the sword whose scabbard his mother had once strictly admonished him — with great seriousness — never to draw, not ever.

He closed one hand around the hilt and drew the sword from its sheath.

The blade emerged inch by inch, its cold light flickering, its blue edge brilliant as a mirror.

He drew it fully, lifted it slowly, and held it horizontal before him, staring at the reflection that appeared in the sword’s edge — a pair of dark, cold eyes that seemed not to belong to himself. His gaze was motionless, lost in thought, when all at once he heard a commotion from outside the door.

The sound of voices drifted to his ears.

His mother had returned.

He lowered his eyes, slid the sword swiftly back into its sheath without a sound, set it quietly back in its place, and turned — to see his mother push the door open and enter.

He went to meet her.

“Mother, you’re back? You must be tired from the road.” He supported Mu Fulan and helped her to a seat.

Mu Fulan glanced at his desk and could see he had been reading. She asked him a few things, then dismissed all the attendants, leaving only the two of them in the room.

“Mother, you left for Yunmeng so suddenly — did something happen?” the young boy asked her.

Mu Fulan was quiet for a moment, then looked at him and said: “Xi’er, not long ago, Mother asked you whether you resented me for not being able to let you become King of Changsha, and at the time you said you did not. Mother asks you once more today — tell me honestly: do you resent me?”

The young boy said: “Mother, of course I would not resent you. I know that everything you do is for my sake.”

Mu Fulan let out a soft breath — but then heard him continue: “But Mother, if you ask me whether I want to be a king — my answer would be yes, I want to be one. And not only that: I want to be the most powerful king in this world.”

Mu Fulan looked at the pair of bright eyes before her — eyes that did not look away from hers — and was suddenly put in mind of a past life: the young boy who had treated the position of Crown Prince, a position he might well have been able to fight for, as though it were nothing, and had ultimately taken his own life before his father’s eyes. She was struck motionless.

The young boy finished speaking and looked at her quietly. When she had not opened her mouth for a long while, he said softly: “Mother, have I made you angry by saying this?”

Mu Fulan came back to herself and shook her head at once.

Her mind felt unsettled. She hesitated a moment, then asked again: “Xi’er, how did you come to have such thoughts?”

“Mother, if this were not a good thing, why would so many people in this world be willing to cast everything aside and fight over and over to become emperor?”

The young boy knelt on both knees, his face upturned as he looked at her.

“Mother, I am no longer small. I know what it means to be a king — I know what one can gain, and I know the cost and the responsibility. There is something I have not told you. When I went to find Lord Xie, he told me he could help me. If such an opportunity truly exists, I ask that you give your blessing, Mother.”

Mu Fulan was stunned.

She felt as though something had gone wrong somewhere, yet when she thought it through again, everything followed its own logic.

Only she was still her former self. That man knew nothing of what came before — and Xi’er, too, was no longer the Xi’er of the past. In this lifetime, he had lived different experiences and grown a different will.

Her feelings in this moment were a tangle of five flavors all at once. That vast and solitary sense of standing apart from the world swept over her again.

She was lost in a daze for a moment, then came back to herself. She lifted the young boy who was still kneeling at her feet, gently patted his head, gave him a small smile, and quietly withdrew.

That man, once he had made up his mind about something, always acted with a swiftness that caught people completely off guard.

Before long, the news spread across the realm. In Yue City, the capital of Changsha, there was not a street or alleyway where it was not discussed with fervor.

Yet the atmosphere now, compared to not long before, was worlds apart.

One piece of tremendous good news arrived after another, and every face was lit with joy.

The astronomers had observed the heavens — an exceptionally rare alignment of five stars in a line, a sign known as the “Change of the Path,” signaling that the current emperor ought to yield and a new Son of Heaven should receive the mandate. The old emperor, heeding the celestial signs, abdicated in favor of the more worthy. The Prince of Qin rose to answer heaven’s call; the whole world submitted without exception. An auspicious day would be chosen for his enthronement as emperor.

On this very day, the officials of the Ministry of Rites arrived from the capital at the head of a grand and imposing procession. After a long journey, they arrived in Changsha to escort the lady of the kingdom and her son to the capital to attend the ceremonies.