The place where Pu Zhu’s father was buried lay atop a stretch of elevated ground in the wilderness, facing in the direction of the capital.

More than a decade had passed. That hillside had long been swallowed by wild grass, and only when the overgrowth was cleared away did the grave reveal itself.

A sunken mound of earth. An unmarked stone tablet. Before the tablet stood a single diplomatic staff. That was all.

The staff had been battered by wind and rain for years; the wooden shaft had long since rotted away, but the lower half remained planted in the ground, still standing to this day.

On that day, the wilderness was blanketed by banners that blotted out the sun. Ten thousand Eagle-Soaring officers, clad in black armor that gleamed brilliantly in the light, stood in perfect formation at the foot of the slope — a solemn assembly gathered to offer memorial rites to a heroic soul.

Under the watchful gaze of the officers and soldiers, Pu Zhu walked step by step up the slope, facing the fierce, gusting wind that swept in from the depths of the open wilderness, until she reached the place where her father’s bones lay buried.

A ritual officer chanted the memorial address. She knelt before that mound of barren earth, recalling her father’s face and voice from years gone by — and once more she remembered the scene from her childhood, the last time she had seen him off at the door.

He had smiled and promised her he would return soon. But from that day forward, he never came back. All these years, he had slept alone here. His only companions had been the miasmic rains and wild winds, blowing endlessly.

She suddenly found herself unable to suppress her emotions. Tears fell silently down her cheeks. Lost in grief and barely able to hold herself together, she suddenly felt a warmth spread across her hand. She lifted her tear-blurred eyes and looked over.

Li Xuandu, dressed in a plain white cap and black robes, was kneeling at her side.

His expression was solemn, his gaze still directed straight ahead — yet one of his hands reached toward her beneath his sleeve, slowly interlacing his fingers with hers until, at last, they clasped tightly together.

She felt the warmth and strength of his palm. Listening to the sound of the wild wind sweeping over the hillside and the clear, resonant tones of the ritual officer’s sacrificial chant — mournful yet composed — her heart gradually settled.

She looked toward her father’s grave. Her tears slowly ceased.

The great fire blazed. Amid the solemn chanting of monks guiding the departed soul, the remains were cremated and received into a purified altar vessel.

She held it reverently in both hands and descended the hillside. Out on the open plain, at a single command, ten thousand soldiers dropped to their knees in unison, receiving the loyal remains with the highest honors.

The great calamity had passed. The miasmic rains and barbarous smoke had all dissipated. From this day forward, the spirit would return home.

If given another chance, her young father — he would surely do exactly as he had done before: buckle on his long sword, take up his diplomatic staff, venture beyond the frontier pass, march into the wild territories, crush the cruel and brutal, and receive his honors at the sacred mound.

Without regret. Without remorse. Of this, Pu Zhu was absolutely certain.

Before setting out on the return journey, there was still one place she had long wished to visit, and one person she had long yearned to call upon. Now that she had come this far, she would naturally make time to stop and pay her respects.

After receiving her father’s remains, they made their way toward Yinyue City. The Western Expedition coalition forces would also part ways here — one contingent continuing on the road, while the other temporarily encamped outside the city, awaiting the time to journey east alongside Li Xuandu.

After making camp, Li Xuandu brought Pu Zhu to visit Jiang Yi first. Outside the tent, they encountered the military physician who had just finished changing his dressings, and asked after the condition of his wounds.

The physician said that although the General’s injuries were external, the wound was long and deep — nearly reaching the breastbone — and the blade had been poisoned, making healing considerably more difficult. Fortunately, the General’s constitution was exceptional, and he had passed through the most dangerous phase. Just now, the stitches had been removed from the wound. However, he would still need careful recuperation before he could fully recover.

Jiang Yi sat alone in the tent at a simple table, reviewing a map of the Western Regions. In the corner of the table sat a bowl of medicine that his personal guard had brought in earlier. It had been sitting for some time and had grown cold. He remembered it, reached out to pick it up — but moved a little too abruptly, likely straining the wound. His hand paused in midair.

Pu Zhu had just entered the tent with Li Xuandu when she saw this. She hurried forward, took the bowl of medicine in both hands, and presented it to him.

Jiang Yi glanced at her, smiled and nodded, and accepted the bowl.

Pu Zhu waited at his side. When she saw he had finished the medicine, she quickly reached out to take back the bowl and said: “Godfather, your injuries are not light, and you haven’t yet fully recovered. You must take better care of yourself. Why not have your personal guard attend you at your side? If there’s no suitable person here, let me attend to you myself!”

Jiang Yi replied, “The physician has just removed my stitches. I have people here. You needn’t worry.” As he spoke, he rose to his feet and made to give his respects to Li Xuandu, but Li Xuandu stopped him with one hand, asked him to sit back down, and took a seat himself. They exchanged a few words about the plan to divide the camp the following morning and head out in two directions. Then Li Xuandu looked at Pu Zhu.

Pu Zhu had been listening quietly the whole time. Now, seeing Li Xuandu look her way, she understood his intent and spoke: “Godfather, Yulang has received word from Empress Dowager Jinxi’s side. She has dispatched her Prime Minister and Shan Yang to escort us — they should arrive very soon. A while ago I ran into the military physician, who said that you need rest for your wound to heal as quickly as possible. Since we’re going into the city anyway, this would be a good chance to stay and rest there for a few days. What do you think, Godfather?”

Jiang Yi smiled gently. “You two go ahead. I won’t be traveling with you. When the fighting broke out in He Xi last year, I left in a hurry — there are still many things unattended to at the horse ranch. I’ve been away long enough, and I need to get back and deal with matters there as soon as possible. I’ll be setting out with them tomorrow.”

“Godfather, are you sure you’re up to it?”

Pu Zhu was a little worried and couldn’t help adding this.

“I’ll be fine.”

Jiang Yi looked at her and Li Xuandu, his face carrying a smile.

“Don’t worry. My injuries — I know them myself. And they truly are no longer serious.”

Pu Zhu could only look toward Li Xuandu.

He studied Jiang Yi in silence for a moment, then gave a slow nod.

“Very well. Uncle, please rest early. I’ll come to see you again after I’ve returned.”

Jiang Yi inclined his head. “I’ll be waiting for you in the interior.”

He rose to see them out.

Pu Zhu knew he would not be entering Yinyue City.

She gazed at Jiang Yi’s expression — as calm and composed as always — and thought of the fates both he and the Grand Princess Jinxi had each arrived at in her previous life. For reasons she could not quite name, a faint, inexpressible sense of loss and sorrow rose within her.

She did not know what Jiang Yi was truly thinking at this moment — whether he really was as undisturbed as he appeared on the surface, as though the past had all become ordinary.

Perhaps because in this life she had finally found happiness, united with the one she loved, she quietly hoped that all those in love might find the same — that they, too, might come together as she and Li Xuandu had.

Yet she also knew that this was likely nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.

She followed Li Xuandu as Jiang Yi saw them out, and returned to her own tent. By evening, a quiet gloom still lingered in her heart.

The two of them had been separated for a long while, and now that they were reunited, in Li Xuandu’s eyes she seemed more lovely and captivating than ever — there was never enough of her to love. As soon as darkness fell, he wanted only to be close to her. With no matters pressing that night, he closed the tent early and ordered that they not be disturbed unless something urgent arose. He gathered his beloved wife in his arms and brought her to bed. Seeing her lying against the pillow, hair loosened and pins askew, quiet tenderness stirred within him, and he pulled her into his embrace. Silken skin, a face like flowers, a willowy waist — after their tender union, he was still unwilling to let it end. He continued to hold her close, lavishing her with affection, yet he found that she seemed somehow distracted. He paused and asked what was on her mind.

At first she said nothing.

Little Luan’er was still small, barely a year old. She had not brought him on this trip, leaving him at the Protectorate Mansion. Li Xuandu thought she must be thinking of their son again — she had done the same just last night, growing emotional in his arms and crying over Luan’er — and quickly began to comfort her, saying they would be back very soon.

Pu Zhu shook her head. She sprawled across his chest, her slender fingers idly tracing the arch of his brow, then let out a soft sigh: “They’re practically within reach — so why is it that Godfather won’t even enter the city? Doesn’t he want to see your aunt one more time? If your aunt found out, would she be heartbroken? Are the two of them really going to leave things this way for the rest of their lives? Whenever I think about it, I can’t help but feel a certain… ache of unresolved feeling.”

Li Xuandu finally understood.

He looked into her beautiful eyes, tinged with a hint of confusion, and reflected for a moment before speaking: “I think I can understand Uncle Jiang’s feelings. It’s not that he’s unwilling to enter the city, as you imagine — it’s that even if he did enter the city, he wouldn’t know how to face my aunt…”

He paused.

“After Aunt left the frontier all those years ago, she was no longer simply the Princess Jinxi she had once been. I suspect that the deeper Uncle Jiang’s love for her, the more he fears becoming a burden and an encumbrance to her — and so he would rather not see her at all.”

Pu Zhu was quiet for a moment. “I understand now. I was thinking about it the wrong way. Aunt will certainly understand.”

Li Xuandu turned over, settling her against his chest. He kissed her smooth forehead and said softly, “All right. Stop letting your thoughts run away with you. Get some sleep — rest well, and tomorrow I’ll take you to meet my aunt.”

Pu Zhu gave a soft sound of agreement and obediently closed her eyes in his arms, drifting off to sleep.