Three days later, the combined army arrived at the Yingsa area with great momentum, intending to split their forces there — one contingent to attack Yan City, the other to take Shuang City. But what they never could have anticipated was that overnight, the clear passage ahead had vanished entirely, transformed into a vast flooded plain.

Several tens of thousands of troops had already marched this far in a grand procession. To simply turn back now — how could they be willing, and how would they account for it to the King of Kunling?

The combined army’s commander was a seasoned general of the Dongdi. After assessing the situation, he changed his plan, decided to abandon Yan City, and attacked only Shuang City, which held greater strategic value. He ordered a detour. After several more days of marching, with Shuang City just coming into view in the distance, they suddenly encountered the Protectorate forces, who cut them off at a place called Tiemen Pass.

The two armies met suddenly. After a brief initial moment of confusion, the Dongdi general quickly steadied himself, ordering his troops to form up. Relying on their numerical advantage, they were determined to breach Tiemen Pass in the shortest time possible and take Shuang City directly.

The Protectorate forces were commanded by Ye Xiao. Though they had less than half the enemy’s numbers, they held firm in the mountain pass without yielding a single step. The two sides fought fiercely, with offense and defense alternating in a seesaw battle. After nearly half a month of intense combat, good news arrived one day.

Han Rongchang, who had been in the north, had finally led his forces back. Coordinating with Ye Xiao, they attacked from both sides simultaneously.

From the moment the Dongdi combined army arrived, they had first suffered a setback and then found themselves completely unable to advance. Though they held a numerical advantage, the enemy used the mountain pass to hold firm, and they could only watch their casualties mount each day. As time went on, those forced to charge at the front were all soldiers from the northern-route nations. Those smaller kingdoms were mutually suspicious of one another, and none was willing to be the first to charge. Already suffering from low morale and poor command cohesion, they were then struck by this flanking attack from both sides — their will to fight collapsed entirely.

In the great battle, the combined army was routed and completely fragmented. The soldiers of the various northern-route nations scattered and fled in every direction. The Dongdi general, seeing that all was lost, led his battered remnants in a desperate retreat. The Protectorate forces pursued the victory, inflicting devastating losses on the enemy, chasing them for over a hundred li before turning back in triumphant return.

This defensive campaign lasted over a month from start to finish. Though the process had been arduous and full of near-disasters, in the end they had not only won, but also captured large quantities of warhorses and provisions. The entire Shuang City erupted in celebration, and the Protectorate held a victory banquet to honor the commanders and soldiers. The King of Baole came in person from Yan City with wine, arriving to offer his congratulations and consolations.

Two months had passed since Li Xuandu’s departure.

In those two months, so much had happened. The grief and longing for the Grand Empress Dowager still lay heavily in the depths of her heart, and then came the news of the combined army’s invasion. She had been overwhelmed with work. In the end, she was so busy that she hardly had time to think of anything else. While Ye Xiao and the others held the mountain pass and fought at the front, she organized the logistics — every morning she woke up thinking about front-line supplies and rations, about the care of wounded soldiers. There was hardly a single day she had slept soundly. Having persevered to this point, she was exhausted to her very core. But on this night of the victory banquet, when she appeared before everyone, she still wore a smile on her face, full of spirit.

The King of Baole had been tense for many days, terrified that Shuang City would fall — in which case his Yan City would then be in grave danger. Now that the crisis had finally been lifted, he was in fine spirits. Halfway through the banquet, somewhat flushed with wine, he suddenly thought of something. Emboldened by the alcohol, he rose to his feet and said with a smile to Pu Zhu seated at the head of the table: “This king has heard, while in the royal palace, certain matters concerning the Lady of Que kingdom, the cousin of Prince Qin. It is said that the Lady is not only outstanding in both character and appearance, but also rendered great merit to the victory in this recent campaign. This king has also heard that the Lady is not yet married. In this king’s kingdom, there happens to be a younger cousin who is of an age and station suitable to match the Lady. Taking this opportunity, this king ventures boldly to seek a betrothal on his cousin’s behalf.”

The noise and laughter in the banquet hall gradually quieted. The King of Baole saw that some people were looking at him and others were looking at Wang Fei, expressions varied, yet he remained completely oblivious and continued his earnest advocacy: “This king’s younger cousin is accomplished in both civil and military arts. He contributed greatly to the defense of Yan City. To be matched with the Lady would not only be his great fortune — it would be the fortune of our Baole kingdom!”

Pu Zhu spoke up, smiling in reply: “Lady Li has an honorable father and elder relatives at home. A matter of such lifelong importance as this should be decided by her elders. Honorable King, you have come to the wrong person.”

Having said this, she raised the wine cup in her hand and invited everyone to drink.

The people in the banquet hall all hastily followed suit and raised their cups. The scene of the marriage proposal that had just occurred thus passed.

The King of Baole was somewhat deflated and had no choice but to sit back down.

After a moment, a Baole deputy commander who had been stationed at the Protectorate headquarters on standing duty and was seated near the King quietly leaned over and murmured a few words in his ear.

Not knowing was one thing, but having now heard those words, the King of Baole felt the wine in his belly instantly dissipate, and his head cleared at once.

The deputy commander had told him that while he had been here, he had heard a rumor: it was said that Prince Qin and this Lady of Que kingdom had had a betrothal agreement when they were young, and that when the Lady had fallen into danger and been captured by the people of the ghost kingdom, it was Prince Qin himself who had gone at personal risk to rescue her. She was Prince Qin’s person. Wang Fei also treated the Lady with great consideration. On the day the Lady returned from fetching the fire oil, Wang Fei had gone out of the city in person to receive her, and the two had ridden back together in the same carriage, evidently on extremely close terms. It was plain that Wang Fei was also pleased to see this come about. The King of Baole should quickly put aside any thought of proposing a marriage, lest he offend people without even knowing it.

The King of Baole was now filled with remorse, cursing himself for drinking too much and speaking rashly on impulse. He had thought that by arranging such a match, he could draw closer in his ties with Prince Qin’s side — that was what had led him, emboldened by the wine, to rise and propose on his younger cousin’s behalf. He had not considered that the Lady of Que kingdom and Prince Qin shared that kind of connection.

The King of Baole felt deeply unsettled and had no more heart to continue drinking. When at last the banquet ended and Wang Fei rose to leave, he quickly followed. When there were few people near her, he seized his chance and called out: “Wang Fei, please wait!”

After the banquet, Pu Zhu felt utterly exhausted and was just about to go rest. Hearing the call, she stopped and turned. Seeing it was the King of Baole, she nodded to him and smiled, asking what the matter was.

The King of Baole drew her aside to a quiet, deserted spot, and immediately cupped his hands in apology: “Just now, this king had drunk too much and spoke two foolish words, giving offense to Prince Qin. Once Prince Qin returns, this king trusts Wang Fei will put in a few good words for this king before him. Just now, this king absolutely had no intention of giving offense — it was simply a matter of complete ignorance. Had I known of Prince Qin and the Lady’s connection, not to speak of one measure of courage — even if this king were given ten measures of courage, this king would never have dared to conceive such a presumptuous notion. I have truly given offense to Prince Qin and been rude to the Lady.”

Pu Zhu understood perfectly what the King of Baole was implying.

She thought of that scene she had accidentally witnessed — Zhang Zhuo questioning Luo Bao.

It seemed that someone had told the King of Baole of the “relationship” between Li Xuandu and Li Tanfang, and that was what had thrown him into such a panic, making him rush to find her to apologize and pass on his words.

For a moment she didn’t know how to respond. She stood there in a daze, and then she noticed the King of Baole still watching her carefully, seemingly waiting for her reply. Coming back to herself, she pressed down the indescribable mix of feelings churning within her, smiled slightly, and consoled him: “One who does not know cannot be blamed. You were not doing it on purpose — think nothing of it. Prince Qin is not the kind of person to take such things to heart.”

The King of Baole thanked her and pleaded again and again, begging her to be sure to remember — when Prince Qin returned — to put in a word of explanation on his behalf.

Perhaps she was truly too tired. Pu Zhu suddenly lost all patience entirely and could no longer hold it in. The smile on her face disappeared. “If the Honorable King is still uneasy, then wait until Prince Qin returns and apologize to him in person.”

Having said this, she turned and left, returning to her own quarters at the rear. She felt that from the tips of her hair down to the soles of her feet, every single part of her was utterly drained and exhausted.

She instructed no one to disturb her, entered the room, and without even removing her makeup, lay down on the bed fully clothed.

She closed her eyes.

She wanted to sleep — to care about nothing, to just have a good sleep first.

She fell asleep quickly, yet her sleep was not peaceful. She dreamed. The dream was at first confused and murky, nothing to grasp onto, then gradually the obscuring clouds and mist dissipated, and at last she could see clearly.

She saw herself sitting beside a great boulder, weeping.

The place looked somewhat familiar — a high plateau, desolate in all directions.

She quickly recognized it. That was the high plateau beside the Longevity Temple at the imperial mausoleum.

She didn’t want this.

Don’t cry — crying is useless. The one you’re waiting for will not come. In the dream she seemed to be telling herself this over and over in her heart. But the tears still kept flowing and flowing.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Then suddenly, from somewhere unknown, a warm and rough hand reached over, as though wiping away her tears.

She slowly opened her eyes and met the gaze of A’mu — a pair of eyes filled with concern and worry.

She lay on the pillow, staring quietly at A’mu sitting at the bedside for a moment. Then a rush of overwhelming grievance surged up within her. She climbed up and buried her head in A’mu’s embrace, closed her eyes, and the tears came flooding down again.

A’mu held her tightly, gently patting her back, soothing her without words in this familiar way — as though she were still the little girl she had been in childhood.

“A’mu, will you stay with me to sleep tonight?” She choked on a sob, making a soft plea.

A’mu nodded.

That night, in A’mu’s company, Pu Zhu fell into a deep sleep and slept until dawn.

The next morning she woke slowly, opened her eyes — still slightly red and swollen from the night before — and smiled at A’mu: “I’m fine now. I was just too tired last night. Don’t worry about me, A’mu.”

A’mu gently touched her face and helped her dress and comb her hair.

The maidservants brought in breakfast. She had no appetite at all, and even the smell of food made her feel slightly nauseous. But knowing she had lost composure the night before and not wanting to cause A’mu more worry and grief today, she forced herself to endure the discomfort, managed a few bites, set it down, and then went to visit her sister-in-law Ruo Yue.

Ruo Yue was now visibly showing — five or six months along — and said that when she woke that morning, she had felt the child in her belly gently pressing against her. The sensation was wondrous.

Ruo Yue’s face as she described it was full of gentle, joyful smiles.

Pu Zhu didn’t know what such a feeling was like; she couldn’t imagine it from Ruo Yue’s description alone. But she liked coming here to visit Ruo Yue. Seeing her so happy, Pu Zhu seemed to feel the same warmth herself, and her spirits lifted accordingly.

While they were still chatting and laughing, the sound of rapid footsteps came from outside the door. Nanny Wang stepped briskly in and reported with delight that just a moment ago, another piece of good news had arrived from the front.

Prince Qin had also defeated the King of Kunling. The King of Kunling had fled. The people of Que had been relieved. Prince Qin planned to continue escorting them westward. Once he met up with the forces sent by Grand Empress Jin Xi of the Western Di, he would return.

And along with the good news, a letter from Prince Qin for Wang Fei had also been brought back.

A’mu’s eyes lit up immediately. She stepped forward at once, took the letter, and passed it to Pu Zhu.

He had won a victory over there as well!

Pu Zhu breathed a sigh of relief, took the letter, glanced up, and seeing A’mu and Nanny Wang both watching her with smiling eyes, felt her heart beat a little faster. She quickly turned her back on them, took out the letter inside, steadied herself, and carefully opened it.

Li Xuandu’s familiar handwriting leapt immediately before her eyes.

He had seemed quite rushed when writing it. The characters were hasty, the letter not long — only a few brief lines. Aside from asking about her wellbeing, he mentioned only one other matter.

It was grim news.

He told Pu Zhu that his maternal uncle was gravely wounded and in critical condition, likely beyond saving, and asked whether his cousin’s illness had recovered. If she was well enough, he wanted Pu Zhu to arrange immediately for someone to escort her on her way to reach him.

Pu Zhu’s expression changed dramatically. Clutching the letter, she turned and rushed at once to where Li Tanfang was staying.

Li Tanfang had not yet recovered from her illness and was still resting. When she read Li Xuandu’s letter, tears streamed down her face on the spot. Regardless of everything, she was determined to set out on the road immediately.

After urgent consultation between Pu Zhu and Ye Xiao, they arranged a team of soldiers led by Zhang Zhuo and Weidichi Shengde to escort Li Tanfang, and they set out that very same day.

She stood outside the main gate of the fortress watching as Li Tanfang’s figure gradually vanished from sight. Her heart felt hollow.

That group had gone, fading away without a trace. Yet she still stood where she was, letting the wind blow around her, ruffling her skirt, motionless — until Luo Bao beside her spoke quietly to remind her. Only then did she turn and walk back inside. After a few steps, she suddenly felt a tightness in her chest, a desire to retch, and her vision darkened. Her body swayed.

“Wang Fei, what’s wrong!”

Luo Bao’s eyes were quick and his hands faster — he caught her with one arm. Seeing her face drained of color, he hurriedly called for someone to summon a physician.

Pu Zhu quickly steadied herself and stood firm, stopping him, saying it was nothing — she had likely just been overtired of late and would be fine after a few days of rest.

Luo Bao had no choice but to let the matter go.

She returned to the council chamber and sat down.

Zhang Zhuo and Weidichi Shengde had gone escorting Li Tanfang.

Ye Xiao had gone out to attend to matters.

Han Rongchang had apparently left for the Baole kingdom. After all, his official post was that of the court-appointed Marquis Who Assists the Nation, stationed in Baole.

All the people — on this daytime — were each occupied with their own affairs.

Pu Zhu suddenly found herself at leisure, discovering she seemed to have nothing to do.

A shaft of sunlight streamed in through the window. The motes of dust floated gently in the light, making the surrounding silence seem all the more profound.

She sat in a daze for a moment, then suddenly thought of something, drew out a sheet of paper, rolled up her sleeves, and slowly began to grind ink.

She wanted to write a letter.

It was a letter for Li Xuandu. Once written, she could send someone to catch up with Zhang Zhuo and the others, and it could be carried along with them.

She had many, many things she wanted to say to him.

About the Grand Empress Dowager.

And some other things…

But when it came time to put the brush to paper, this letter proved so difficult to write — she didn’t know how to begin.

She had only written an opening line before her wrist hung suspended in the air, pausing.

The ink at the tip of the brush slowly gathered, condensing into a drop, clinging to the tip of the bristles — nearly falling, yet not quite — trembling faintly.

At that moment, a knocking sound suddenly came from outside the door.

Pu Zhu’s hand gave a slight tremble. That ink drop fell with a soft splat, landing on the sheet of paper.

Pu Zhu felt a sudden flash of restless irritation. She set down the brush, crumpled the sheet of paper, tossed it aside, then called out for the person to come in.

The messenger guard reported that someone had arrived outside bearing a verbal message, saying that Shuang Shi had an urgent matter and wished to see her at once.

Pu Zhu rose and went outside. The messenger, however, was nowhere to be seen. Another guard posted outside said the man had seemingly been in a hurry and had left quickly right after delivering the message.

Pu Zhu found this slightly odd and mulled it over. She asked someone to bring out her red horse, and was just about to select a few attendants to accompany her, when she happened to see Han Rongchang riding back through the city gate from that direction, quickly drawing up nearby.

Pu Zhu asked him how he had come back so soon.

Han Rongchang dismounted, and with a laugh explained: “I couldn’t be bothered staying in Yan City any longer. I handed everything off and came back! Where is Wang Fei heading?”

Pu Zhu said: “Shuang Shi seems to have some urgent matter and is asking me to come over.”

Han Rongchang glanced in the direction of the manor and said: “Let me accompany Wang Fei there!”

He was of no low standing, and Pu Zhu could hardly allow him to serve as her escort. She declined with words of thanks.

Han Rongchang said good-naturedly: “Wang Fei need not stand on ceremony. I have nothing to do today and happened to run into you. Besides — I hear that Shuang Shi’s manor has fine wine. Going along, I might even get a few cups.”

Since he put it that way, Pu Zhu did not decline further. She thanked him with a smile. When her horse was brought out, she mounted and, with two attendants, rode alongside Han Rongchang toward the manor.