Li Xuandu led Huaiwei and sat down at the edge of the riverbank.

Pu Zhu watched the two figures before her — one tall, one smaller — listening with her ear tilted toward the low murmur of their voices carried on the wind. It was as though Li Xuandu’s telling of the story had carried her along with it, back to that distant stretch of years, her heart swept up in its currents, full of emotion.

Li Xuandu finished telling of the events of those years at last, and a hush settled over the riverbank.

Huaiwei was silent for a moment, then spoke: “Fourth Brother — my mother, in those days, it was for the sake of the common people of the realm that she left the General and married my father the king, and became my mother. Isn’t that right?”

Li Xuandu nodded. “Yes. She is a princess of the Li Dynasty, and she bore a responsibility that should never have been hers to shoulder.”

Huaiwei was quiet again. After a long while, he spoke again: “In my mother’s heart — does she feel that the Western Di, and…”

He paused.

“And I… are her burden?”

His voice was very quiet. When he finished, he looked at Li Xuandu uneasily, his expression carrying a trace of apprehension.

Li Xuandu shook his head.

“No. You have it wrong. Although in those years your mother did indeed marry into Yinyue City out of a sense of duty, all these years have passed — she has long since come to truly love this land and the people who live here. And that is to say nothing of you.”

He smiled, and pointed upward at the sky above.

“You are the finest gift heaven gave her in return for what she gave up over all these years. Do you know — when your mother left the frontier to marry, your Fourth Brother was only seven years old? At that time, when Fourth Brother saw her off from the capital, he made a secret vow that when he grew up, he would bring her home. Yet now, Fourth Brother has put that idea aside.”

“Why?” Huaiwei looked at him with wide eyes.

“Because your Fourth Brother’s aunt — she has here the blood kin she loves most. And you are her dearest family. You were asking just now, Sister-in-law: your mother went to find the General, saw him, and then parted from him like that — why?”

He stopped, thinking carefully, weighing how to put it into words.

Pu Zhu walked over and said: “It is because today’s her is no longer the princess she once was.”

“Today’s her is the Empress Dowager of the Western Di. She is Huaiwei’s mother. And so, after she saw the General’s face, she parted from him like that.”

When Pu Zhu finished, she also sat down at Huaiwei’s side and met his gaze as he turned toward her.

“Fortunately, the turmoil and strife have all passed. Both of them love you very deeply and hope that you will grow up without worry or sorrow, to become a brave and compassionate king. I believe that is their greatest wish.”

Huaiwei slowly turned his head and gazed at the river flowing before him. He sat still, lost in thought, as if he were deep in contemplation.

Pu Zhu and Li Xuandu stayed by his side.

After a long while, seeing him still without a word, Pu Zhu said gently: “It’s getting late. Shall we head back first?”

Before her words had even finished, the Huaiwei sitting on the ground leaped to his feet. “Fourth Brother, Fourth Sister-in-law — you two go back first! I’m going to find the General!”

With that, he looked back and let out a sharp whistle toward his mount waiting by the bank.

That fine horse, hearing its master’s call, whinnied twice and immediately came cantering over.

Huaiwei swung himself up into the saddle in one fluid motion, then drove his horse down the riverbank, splashed through the water to the far side, and immediately charged forward at a gallop.

His few personal guards, who had been waiting far behind, caught a glimpse of this and hurriedly gave chase.

Li Xuandu and Pu Zhu exchanged a glance, having no idea what he meant to say to Jiang Yi. They immediately called up their own horses, forded the river, and set off after him together.

Huaiwei rode at a pace one in a hundred could match. He galloped flat-out the whole way.

The horses surged one behind the other, racing at full speed. Under the cover of nightfall, points of firelight began to appear in the distance ahead. They were nearing the army’s encampment. It was only then, barely before reaching it, that the two finally caught up.

Li Xuandu brought his horse broadside across Huaiwei’s path, stopping him just outside the main gate of the camp.

“Fourth Brother, Fourth Sister-in-law — thank you for telling me everything about the past! Don’t worry — I know what I’m doing! I just have a few things I want to say to the General! I’ll come back out when I’m done!”

He didn’t wait for Li Xuandu to speak. He swung down from his horse and ran toward the main gate.

Li Xuandu looked at Pu Zhu and said quietly, “What should we do? What does he want to say?”

Pu Zhu saw him looking slightly tense, as if still a little uneasy. She hesitated for a moment, then gripped his arm, halting the steps he was about to take to follow.

“Let him go. We’ll wait here.”

“He’s old enough now. He won’t do anything rash.”

She watched the figure of Huaiwei striding toward the camp gate and spoke softly.

…

Inside the tent, Jiang Yi had not summoned the military physician either. He untied his own garments, reapplied medicine to the wound where he had strained himself and caused a small seep of blood, re-bandaged it, and then sat alone at the table, studying once more the map of the Western Regions he always kept with him.

Li Xuandu had given him this map.

The map marked not only the positions and cities of every large and small kingdom in the entire Western Regions, but also the mountains, rivers, and vast stretches of desert and gobi within them. Compared to the old map he had used many years ago when fighting the Di people, it was not only far more detailed, but also considerably more accurate in its locations.

He found this map extremely interesting. In the evenings when there was nothing to do, he would take it out to study.

Yet tonight, his gaze fell on the map, and his thoughts wandered.

He recalled the scene at dusk — her arriving in pursuit, the two of them gazing at each other across the water.

He stared into space for a moment, then folded the map and was about to put it away. His gaze fell on the crane flute that was stored alongside the map.

He untied the cloth wrapping, took out the crane flute, and looked at the inscription carved into its body, his thoughts drifting.

When he had been a young man on a hunting expedition, he had once rescued a white crane from the talons of a hawk. The crane refused to leave, and so he had given it to Jinxi — with whom he had grown up together since childhood — to keep. Some years later, the crane died, and she was very sorrowful. He drew the crane’s bones and made this flute to give her, as a token of longing.

That was the origin of the crane flute.

He ran his thumb along the body of the flute, and was just about to put it away, when outside there came the sound of footsteps, followed by his personal guard reporting through the curtain: “General, the king of the Western Di has arrived and wishes to see you!”

Jiang Yi was startled, then quickly collected his thoughts. In rapid motion he wrapped the flute back in its cloth, then rose to go out. As he raised his head, the tent flap was already being pushed open.

The young man came bursting in like a gust of wind, came face to face with him, and stopped short. He stood there at the tent entrance.

He seemed to have been running hard; having stopped, he breathed in great gasps.

Jiang Yi had not expected him to come at this hour. He was delighted, and walked smiling toward him.

“How did you end up here?”

He greeted the young man, but saw that he seemed not to hear him at all — still looking over at him like that, eyes fixed intently upon him, with a strange expression, utterly unlike his usual self.

He paused in surprise. Then something suddenly occurred to him about what had happened that afternoon — his mother and himself meeting by the water.

Could he have found out? Was that why he had chased him here overnight? Because he had misunderstood his mother?

His heart sank. His footsteps instantly felt as though they were weighted with lead and came to a halt. He stared at this young man who had come barging in yet said nothing, and the smile gradually faded from his face.

He hesitated for a moment, then asked: “The events of this evening — you know about them?”

The young man’s breathing gradually steadied. He looked at him and nodded. “Yes, I know! And I also know about you and my mother — from before!”

Jiang Yi closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He immediately said: “You must not misunderstand your mother. She has done nothing wrong and has never done anything unbecoming of her position! What happened today has nothing to do with her — all of it is my fault!”

As he spoke, he turned and looked at the crane flute lying on the table. Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked directly over, took it up, and held it out before the young man.

“Do you see this? This is something I gave your mother when she was young. More than a decade ago, she had it sent back to me through your Fourth Sister-in-law’s father! I will keep this, and when the time comes—”

He gripped the crane flute, about to snap it in two.

“General!”

Huaiwei took a step forward and snatched the crane flute from his hands.

“General — I came to tell you: I will grow up quickly. I’ll become a true eagle. I’ll take a wife, and rule as king! When that day comes, I’ll let her be a princess again! I’ll give the princess back to you, General!”

Jiang Yi went absolutely still, staring at the young man before him in a daze.

Huaiwei’s eyes were tinged red, his expression filled with emotion. He kept his gaze fixed on this man before him. When his words were done, he looked down at the crane flute he had just seized from him, and with great care and gentleness, set it back down on the table.

“Please keep it for now, General. When that day comes, return it to her with your own hands.”

Huaiwei gave him a solemn bow, then turned, and like the wind by which he had come, lifted the tent flap and dashed back out.

Jiang Yi finally came back to himself. Overcome with astonishment, he ran after him. Outside in the darkness of night, he saw that young figure making his way toward the main gate of the camp.

The young man ran out beyond the camp gate, and from far away Jiang Yi could see a few mounted figures in the open field outside.

“General — take good care of yourself! Heal your wound quickly! Until we meet again!”

Huaiwei called out in a loud voice toward the figure behind him, swung up onto his horse, gave his horse a crack of the whip, wheeled around and rode away.

Li Xuandu, with Pu Zhu, also mounted their horses and waved farewell from a distance toward Jiang Yi who had come running out, then followed Huaiwei and galloped off.

Jiang Yi chased out beyond the camp gate for several li before finally stopping, watching in silence as the figures of those riding ahead disappeared into the dark of night.

He stood alone in the open field outside the camp for a long while. Slowly, he tilted his face upward. He closed his eyes. He breathed in a long, deep breath. Only then did he press down the surging tide of feeling in his heart, and turned around.

“Who’s there? Come out!”

He suddenly called out toward the road to one side.

From a dim and shadowed corner of the nearby field, a figure slowly walked out.

It was a young military officer. In the moonlight, his figure was lean and wiry, with straight, sword-like brows and long, arresting eyes.

“Your subordinate Cui Xuan pays his respects to the General.”

The young man bowed to him and said in a low voice.

Jiang Yi was briefly taken aback when he heard the name, and looked at him carefully.

“You are Cui Xuan?”

He studied the young man, and his tone eased somewhat.

Jiang Yi had heard this name before and knew something of his story. He had simply not seen the man himself. He had not expected to encounter him here at this moment.

Though the Eastern Di’s royal court had been broken and its various tribes had submitted, surrendering throughout all the four borders — it was still entirely possible that in ten or twenty years, embers might reignite and war break out again.

Not to mention — beyond the north, the northeast and southwest too held foreign peoples. Their dress and culture were all unlike those of the Central Plains.

The Western Di was, after all, an exception. And to maintain that kind of relationship had cost a princess of the Li Dynasty half her life as the price.

Land and power will always be like blood drawing wolf packs into pursuit.

The Li Dynasty needed to sharpen its weapons and maintain its vigilance, without slackening for a moment. And capable commanders were difficult to find — especially commanders capable of directing large-scale campaigns. Beyond experience, exceptional natural gifts were required.

Among the officers in the court army, those capable of commanding ten to twenty thousand men in battle numbered, as far as he knew, somewhere around a dozen.

Those capable of effectively commanding fifty thousand — only Han Rongchang, Yang Hong, and a mere handful of others.

And those capable of commanding a hundred thousand or more — apart from himself and Li Xuandu, in the near future, there would likely be only this Cui Xuan.

Though perhaps he still needed some shaping.

“It’s late — why haven’t you returned to camp? Wandering out here?” Jiang Yi asked.

Cui Xuan had been feeling stifled earlier and had come out for air. When he was about to return, he had noticed Li Xuandu and Pu Zhu waiting outside the camp gate and naturally had not presumed to show himself.

“It was stuffy in the tent. I came out for some air and didn’t mean to disturb you, General.”

Jiang Yi sensed intuitively that the young man seemed to have something weighing on his mind, but he did not press further. He simply said: “When you get back — do you plan to enter court service?”

From what he knew, although this Cui Xuan had previously held a position of considerable power and authority at court — having risen to the rank of Southern Directorate General — and had distinguished himself greatly in the northern frontier campaign, he had also made many enemies in the past, and his reputation had been tarnished.

According to current rumors in court circles, the death of Emperor Xiaochang seemed to be connected to him as well.

With the Prince of Qin about to ascend the throne — that was now a foregone conclusion. After he took the throne, if this young man truly wished to return to court, the Prince of Qin would surely grant his wish.

What he didn’t know was how the man himself felt about it.

Cui Xuan said quietly: “With a body marked by guilt and disgrace, what face do I have to enter court?”

Jiang Yi studied him for a moment. “If you won’t enter court, then a fine man should guard the frontier and secure the borders. My command still lacks a chief commander. Would you be willing to come, one day?”

Cui Xuan raised his head abruptly. He held Jiang Yi’s gaze for a moment, then dropped to one knee, bowed his head and said: “It would be more than I could wish for! To serve under the General’s command would be this subordinate’s great fortune!”

Jiang Yi’s face broke into a smile. He stepped forward immediately, lifted him to his feet with his own hands, clapped him on the shoulder, and said with a laugh: “Youth holds boundless promise! In time, build your achievements and your name — a noble title is well within your reach!”