Li Xuandu was out on the hunting grounds and had not yet returned.

Pu Zhu leaned against the window watching the scenery in the courtyard, waiting for him, her thoughts drifting slightly.

Behind her came the patter of footsteps, and she turned her head to see Huaiwei come running in and dash up to her.

“Sister-in-law! I was just thinking of going to see if Fourth Brother was back, and in the distance I saw my mother riding east on horseback — she only had Madam Roujiang and a few personal guards with her! I called out but she didn’t hear me. I blinked and by the time I caught up, she had long since disappeared from sight!”

“Did she say anything about where she was going?”

Pu Zhu instinctively shook her head.

Huaiwei immediately grew anxious. “What’s wrong with Mother? What happened to make her leave the city in such a hurry?”

He looked out at the sky, stomped his foot.

“This won’t do — I have to go check! What if something goes wrong!”

Perhaps it was the intuition shared by women — when Pu Zhu heard Huaiwei say he had seen Aunt Jinxi, accompanied only by a few trusted attendants, riding east out of the city, she immediately connected it to the moment Jinxi had asked her about Jiang Yi.

She stood there for a moment, then looked up — Huaiwei had already bolted. He had arrived like a gust of wind and departed the same way.

Neither Shan Yang nor Li Xuandu and the others had returned yet. How could Pu Zhu let him go charging out of the city on his own like that?

And she also had a concern.

If her suspicion was right — what if Huaiwei caught up and saw something…

Who knew what might happen then.

She chased after him and reached the outside of the royal palace gates. Huaiwei was already gone. She asked the palace guards, who said he had left, heading east, with just a few attendants following him.

Pu Zhu immediately called for a horse, then sent someone to inform Li Xuandu. She took a few people and hurried out of the city as well, following the Yinyue River. After going some distance the view opened up, and far ahead she could make out a few mounted figures. Knowing they were likely Huaiwei, she spurred her horse to keep up.

The army had set out at dawn, marching in formation along the river heading east. The column stretched on and on, unbroken, extending for several li.

That day’s march itinerary was to follow the river for fifty li, then ford at a shallow crossing, continue on the road, and reach an open patch of level ground on the far bank before dark, where they would camp for the night.

Because of the split in the camp that morning, which had caused some delay, and with further slowdowns on the road, by this time the rear of the column — the supply train carrying provisions — had only just arrived at the ford.

After Jiang Yi had crossed the river, he finished discussing tonight’s encampment plans with a few deputy generals who had come to find him, and then remained at the crossing to wait for the supply train to come ashore.

One by one, heavily loaded wagons carrying grain, fodder, and military equipment forded from the far bank. As each came ashore, it strained with all its might to catch up with the troops ahead, in order to reach the designated destination before nightfall.

The main body had crossed smoothly. At last, two young soldiers were driving a wagon piled high with grain, rushing to get ashore, when a wheel caught in a rocky hollow at the river’s edge. The two pushed hard, but the wagon was heavily loaded, and the gray mule in front kept slipping, unable to get out of the rut.

The young soldiers were pushing the wagon with all their might and grumbling about it when they suddenly noticed that Jiang Yi was standing on the bank — he had apparently noticed the commotion here, turned to look, and then dismounted from his horse and was walking down to the riverbank. They grew nervous and hurriedly fell silent, redoubling their efforts.

The wheel stuck in the hollow moved forward inch by inch. It seemed just about to come free — yet there was always just that little bit of force missing. The two of them were grimacing, faces flushed red with strain, barely holding on, when suddenly another pair of hands appeared beside them to help push the wagon.

With one surge of effort from Jiang Yi, together with the two young soldiers, the wagon was pushed out of the hollow.

He withdrew his hands.

The two of them had thought he had come down to reprimand them for being useless. They never expected him to actually help push the wagon. Both deeply moved and deeply alarmed, they simultaneously let go and bowed deeply to thank him.

This stretch of riverbank sloped steeply upward. The wagon was stopped on the incline. Suddenly deprived of the pushing force, the gray mule alone could not hold back the heavy weight dragging behind it, and the whole heavy wagon immediately began rolling backward.

The two young soldiers were still standing behind the wagon, intent only on expressing their thanks to Jiang Yi and completely unaware of this. The heavy grain wagon was about to roll right over them. Jiang Yi shouted a warning, stepped forward, reached out, and in one motion braced the retreating wagon body.

The wheels stopped.

The two finally realized what was happening. Frightened out of their wits and breaking into a cold sweat, they hurriedly turned around to help push the wagon. This time they didn’t dare let their attention wander. One pushed from behind, one drove the mule, and at last they managed to get the grain wagon up onto the bank and bring it to a stop. Before even wiping their sweat, they immediately turned around and ran back, dropping to their knees before Jiang Yi to ask his pardon.

Jiang Yi waved his hand. “Be more careful next time. It’s getting late — get on your way. Catch up with the main column and get to sleep early tonight.”

These two young soldiers were from He Xi, having joined the army only a few years ago. Before that, they had only heard of the legendary warrior Jiang Yi from the stories of white-haired old veterans in the ranks. During the He Xi campaign, they had seen him from a distance for the first time. Today, meeting him here by chance — and not only receiving his help twice, but now seeing that as he spoke, his expression bore no trace of annoyance — they were both deeply moved and thrilled. They kowtowed to him with great force, scrambled to their feet as he instructed, and hurried on their way.

Jiang Yi watched the last heavy wagon gradually disappear into the distance. Still standing by the riverbank, he turned his face and gazed for a moment back in the direction from which they had come.

That city was already far behind them. In the distance along the horizon, its silhouette was no longer visible.

The tranquil Yinyue River wound ahead; at the end of the river’s flow, the last rays of sunset shimmered. When the wind blew, the fading light scattered into countless fragments — like broken gold, or like glowing lanterns. In a fleeting trance, they brought to his mind the memory of a certain Lantern Festival night many years ago.

He had still been young then, and she had not yet gone to the frontier. On that Lantern Festival evening, they had arranged to meet at dusk.

He still remembered that night in the streets and lanes of the capital — magnificent horses and fragrant carriages, throngs of people, the moon rising above willow branches, lantern light filling the world. In the surging crowd, he didn’t know when it happened, but he had taken her hand. She watched the lanterns; he watched her.

That night had been so beautiful. Even now when he thought of it, it seemed like a dream.

The finest dream of the first half of his life.

A dull ache flared in his chest, and Jiang Yi came back to himself.

His wound had not yet healed. Just now, helping those two young soldiers ashore, the first surge of effort had been fine — he had been prepared for it. But the second time, bracing the wagon, he had exerted himself too forcefully, and likely strained the wound.

His figure paused for a moment. When the throbbing ache in his chest had eased somewhat, he took one last look toward the city, then took his horse by the reins, turned, and walked on along the riverbank. He was gradually drawing close to the troops ahead of him when suddenly, from the bank behind him, came the sound of hoofbeats, swift and urgent.

The sound of the hoofbeats drew nearer from far away, rapid and intense, startling a flock of wild egrets that were just then returning to roost in the riverbank grasses — they scattered in all directions and flew off.

Jiang Yi hesitated for an instant, then stopped and looked back.

He saw, on the far bank, a woman come riding up from behind in pursuit.

There was still some distance between them, and in the hazy twilight, her face was not easy to make out clearly at first. But the instant her figure came into view, his heart gave a sudden, violent lurch. The blood in his entire body seemed to freeze.

The wind gusted past his ears.

Wild egrets beat their wings, sweeping over his head.

Beneath his feet, the river flowed with a soft, murmuring sound.

Every sound seemed to vanish. The only thing remaining in his ears was the sound of her hoofbeats, approaching, drawing close.

He could not believe that she had actually come — just like this.

Yet everything before his eyes was real.

He could not stop himself. He strode quickly down the riverbank toward her.

She had seen him too. She reined in her horse on the road, gazed at him from afar for a moment, then swung down from the saddle, gathered her skirts, and stepped down the riverbank, running toward him.

Dusk was deepening. Both figures halted at the water’s edge, on opposite banks, gazing intently at the figure across the river.

How many years had it been since they had last seen each other?

Time had aged them, yet seeing her again now — his temples had turned white, yet she remained as beautiful as ever, as though she were still the woman from that night long ago.

Nothing between them but a shallow stream.

He needed only to step forward, keep going, wade across — nothing could stop him. He could walk to her side, and as on that night so many years ago, take her hand once more.

Yet in that moment, it was this one shallow river that stopped the feet that had once leveled the Tian Shan Mountains.

He could not take another step.

Jinxi also stood at the riverbank, gazing intently at the man on the opposite side. Her vision gradually blurred.

It was him. Her familiar him. Although his temples were threaded with frost and his face no longer young, she knew it was him — the very instant she saw his silhouette from across the river, she knew.

Why he had passed by without entering — she understood perfectly.

But she did not know why she had chased after him like this, throwing all caution aside.

Was it to catch one glimpse of him — the one who had held her heart in those long-ago days — to see what he had become after all these years?

Was it to offer him a solemn word of thanks, for saving her son’s life?

Or was it to offer him an apology, in person — for wasting half his life, and still being unable, even now, to fulfill the vow she had once privately made to him?

Countless words surged to the surface of her heart.

Yet she could say nothing at all.

After a long silence, she bowed her head, bent her knees, and gave him a deep, formal curtsy. When she rose, she turned and quickly climbed back up the bank. She seized the reins, swung up into the saddle, spurred the horse, and turned to ride away.

Jiang Yi rushed down the riverbank.

He knew what she was thinking, and what she wanted to say.

He did not blame her — not in the slightest.

Everything he had done, he had done willingly. Whether in the past, the present, or the future.

For the rest of his life — if he were ever to have the chance again to take her hand and watch the lanterns together, that would be a kind of happiness.

If not — as long as she was well, and when he thought of her, he knew she was somewhere out there, living well — he would be her guardian, protecting her well-being.

That, too, was a kind of happiness.

Another kind.

He chased a few steps, then stopped again. He stood at the edge of the shallows, watching in silence as the silhouette of the woman riding away on the far bank grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared entirely and could no longer be seen.

Night had fallen.

A pale yellow crescent moon climbed up into the deep blue sky, hanging over the dark, indigo-colored distant mountains.

The night draped itself over the river, and over the lone figure of the man standing by the water’s edge. All around was still; only the murmur of flowing water remained.

A pair of waterbirds came swimming side by side, necks intertwined, tenderly preening each other’s feathers with their beaks. Together they glided into the watergrass at the edge of the shallows and vanished from sight.

In the distance, a troop of riders came this way. Jiang Yi heard the faint sound of voices calling his name.

It must be his men — they had reached the campsite and, not seeing him return to camp, had grown worried and turned back to find him.

He finally turned, waded across and up onto the bank, and rode off in the direction of the camp ahead.

Huaiwei stood behind a clump of reeds not far off, staring in confusion at the tall figure disappearing into the distance on the far bank, then finally turned his face and asked: “Sister-in-law, did my mother and the General actually know each other before?”

“Why did my mother come to find him, but then — after seeing him — leave again without saying a single word?”

He asked this too, close behind the first.

Pu Zhu looked at his utterly bewildered expression and did not know, for a moment, how to begin.

She had followed Huaiwei here, and from a distance had seen Jinxi and Jiang Yi standing on opposite banks, gazing at each other across the water.

She had thought they would wade across and meet — that they would hold each other tight. Yet she never imagined that in the end, the two would part like that.

That was not a lack of love.

It was the slow settling of half a lifetime, the long endurance of waiting. Love that had grown too deep — still waters running deep — had transformed into silent forbearance and selfless sacrifice.

One of them: ten thousand words, distilled into that final deep curtsy.

The other: halting the steps that had once pursued, because he knew that even now, she still could not cast everything aside and return to his side.

Yet she did not know how to explain this to Huaiwei.

This young king — could he understand the bond between his mother and another man?

“Yes! Long before you were born — back when your mother, my aunt, was still called Princess Jinxi — they already knew each other.”

“More than just knew each other — they had once made a vow to belong to each other for their entire lives!”

Just as Pu Zhu fell into silence, a voice came unhurriedly from behind her.

That familiar voice…

She spun around.

Li Xuandu had appeared at some point, standing behind both her and Huaiwei. Seeing them look back, he walked up with a smile, took Pu Zhu’s hand and said softly, “I heard you and Huaiwei had come out, so I followed.”

He explained this, then turned to face Huaiwei, whose expression was one of utter astonishment. “Do you want to know how, in those days, the mighty Northern Di split into east and west? Why your mother was sent far beyond the frontier, out through the Jade Gate Pass?”

Huaiwei nodded blankly.