Red dust, purple paths, dusk gathering at day’s end. Against the twilight spreading before the distant hills, a flock of crows swept past, winging home to their nests.

Jiang Yi and the seven or eight horse farm workers traveling with him had already put the capital far behind them. Their party rode swiftly along the imperial highway, growing smaller with each passing moment.

The sky was growing dark, and the wild wind was picking up, howling head-on against them as they rode.

Jiang Yi rode along the road, but gradually his thoughts began to drift.

Last night, after returning to Bianqiao postal station, the station master, recognizing him, had privately sent over some wine, which he politely declined. In the course of some idle conversation, the station master let slip a piece of news.

A Western Di envoy delegation had arrived — they had come a month ago. The delegation had been large, and the station master also mentioned in passing that among them, besides the Western Di envoy, was a Western Di young prince.

Since the young prince was the son of Grand Princess Jinxi, who had been sent in marriage to the foreign land years ago, the station master had made a point of looking, and told Jiang Yi that the young prince appeared to be eight or nine years old, with dark curly hair and large blue eyes, looking sturdy and delightful.

The station master had chatted casually, sighed a few times, then gone off in a hurry on other business. He left Jiang Yi behind — and Jiang Yi was unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

In the darkness, guided by the station master’s sparse description, he tried to picture in his mind what that woman’s child must look like. For one fleeting instant, an impulse rose in his heart.

He wanted to walk into that city that had exiled him and then completely forgotten him, and see with his own eyes what this child looked like — whether, just as he had imagined, even with curly hair and blue eyes, one could still faintly find on his face the echo of her beautiful features.

Naturally, this thought was only a passing flash.

Sixteen years ago, from the day she departed through the frontier pass, he had lost her forever — the childhood companion he had grown up with.

Sixteen years later, how could he possibly act in such a reckless manner?

And what good would it do for her?

The sky grew darker by the moment, the dusk closing in rapidly from all sides.

The next postal station ahead was still several dozen li away.

Jiang Yi quickly came back to himself and swept the scattered thoughts from his mind.

Because of the Grand Empress Dowager’s upcoming birthday, the road had lately been full of convoys from various commanderies heading to the capital with tribute goods and well-wishers. There were also many foreign envoy delegations from the Western Regions, like the Western Di state, often numbering dozens to hundreds of people. Because of this, the postal stations along the way were crammed to capacity by nightfall, and if one arrived late enough, even the main hall would be packed with people sleeping on the floor. Someone of his lowly rank who arrived late would have no chance of getting a room. Sleeping out in the open was routine.

The seven or eight men who had come out with him had not only kept pace on the road, but had also tended to the horses throughout — they were thoroughly exhausted. The earlier they arrived, the better. With luck, they might even get a proper bed with a pillow to sleep on tonight.

Jiang Yi gave a shout, urging everyone to pick up the pace, and spurred his own horse forward. His ears filled with the sound of wind, when suddenly, mixed into the wind, came the faint sound of a voice calling out, as if someone on horseback were chasing after him from behind.

He looked back. A shadow was racing along the imperial highway from the direction of the capital.

“Stable Supervisor Jiang, please halt—”

The voice grew clear.

The rider was on an excellent and swift horse, and his figure could soon be made out — he appeared to be a palace guard.

Jiang Yi hesitated briefly, then stopped his horse.

The palace guard swiftly caught up, swung down from his horse, ran to Jiang Yi’s horse, showed him the token identifying his station, then paid his respects and said: “Stable Supervisor Jiang, the Grand Empress Dowager has learned of your arrival today and commands you to enter the city. Spend tonight at Chongye Ward’s postal station — there is no need to leave until tomorrow.”

Jiang Yi was surprised. He thought for a moment, then asked: “Has the Grand Empress Dowager issued any further command beyond this?”

The palace guard shook his head and said there had been none.

This visit to the capital, Jiang Yi had had no intention of entering the city, much less any thought of anything else. He had only wanted to express, in this manner, his heartfelt congratulations to his aunt on her seventieth birthday.

That his aunt would learn of his arrival so quickly was unexpected. And this particular command, heard for the first time, also seemed to come from nowhere.

But since she had specifically sent someone to catch up with him and given these instructions, she must have her reasons.

Jiang Yi thought it over, then said to his men who were watching him: “You all continue on ahead. Wait for me at the next postal station — I’ll go take a look and return to meet up with you once things are done.”

Everyone acknowledged him. Jiang Yi turned his horse around and, together with the palace guard, retraced their path. By the time they returned to the western Yongle Gate, the sky had gone completely black. The city gate was naturally shut again. This time, however, he encountered no questioning at all — the gate guards seemed to recognize the palace guard’s identity, and the moment he called out at the gate, it was swiftly opened and they were waved through.

Tonight the sky was clear. Perhaps because the Grand Empress Dowager’s birthday was drawing near, the atmosphere inside the city had grown more festive with each passing day. Though the sky had darkened, the lights on either side of the road blazed as brilliant as daylight, with pedestrians coming and going in an unbroken stream, the streets and market district bustling and lively as if it were still broad day.

Jiang Yi dismounted and walked along the avenue ahead of him. From time to time, young couples holding small children passed him from the opposite direction, chatting and laughing.

No one paid any attention to this dusty, ordinary-looking middle-aged man. He led his horse, moving quietly through the streets and alleyways of the old capital, until at last he arrived at Chongye Ward’s postal station.

The station master did not recognize him, but must have received instructions beforehand. He was standing outside the gate, craning his neck to watch for arrivals. The moment he heard Jiang Yi give his name, his eyes lit up, and he quickly bowed and invited him to follow inside.

Jiang Yi followed the station master through the postal station until they finally arrived before an independent small lodge that appeared quite secluded and peaceful in the rear courtyard.

“Please enter,” the station master said.

Jiang Yi suppressed the puzzlement in his heart, raised his hand, pushed open the half-closed door, and stepped inside. He had barely taken a few steps when he heard, from the room across the way, the sound of urgent footsteps, and a figure came running out from the doorway, dashing straight toward him.

It was a young boy.

“Are you Jiang Yi, the Great General Jiang?”

The boy stopped in front of him, asking in a bright, cheerful voice.

There were lanterns in the courtyard, and in their light Jiang Yi could see clearly.

A boy of eight or nine, with dark curly hair and large blue eyes, round and sturdy, delightful. He tilted his face up, his eyes wide open, staring at Jiang Yi with a look of curiosity and excitement.

Jiang Yi lowered his head and looked at this young boy — whose features bore the unmistakable traces of foreign blood, yet who also seemed somehow familiar — and he froze.

The boy waited for a reply, but seeing no reaction from Jiang Yi whatsoever, the initial curiosity and excitement on his face gradually faded. He hesitated, then very carefully asked: “My name is A’Shibi. My mother also gave me another name — Huaiwei. I used to hear my instructor speak of you all the time, saying you were a war god reborn, a great, great hero. I heard you were here, so I really wanted to meet you and went to beg my grandmother who lives in Penglai Palace. Are you…”

He stole a glance at Jiang Yi.

“Are you… not fond of me?”

He finally asked in a small voice, his tone carrying a touch of worry.

Pu Zhu stood behind the door, watching this scene unfold, and was suddenly struck by a flash of understanding.

Xu Mu, Lady of Wei — daughter of Duke Zhao of the Spring and Autumn state of Wei — had grown up and married far away, becoming the consort of Duke Mu of Xu. Though exiled from her homeland, she poured her heart into working tirelessly for the sake of the state she had left behind.

Huaiwei, Huaiwei.

Surely, in the dreams of the Lady of Wei, the mountains and rivers of her homeland and the faces of those she had left behind must often have appeared.

Grand Princess Jinxi — who had been sent in marriage to Western Di, compelled to share a husband with other women — must have compared herself to the Lady of Wei. That is why she gave her young son the name Huaiwei, “yearning for Wei.”

Pu Zhu had never met Grand Princess Jinxi, and had no idea what kind of person she truly was.

But at this moment, watching the two figures in the courtyard — one tall, looking down; one small, looking up — and thinking of the grand princess she had never seen, Pu Zhu’s heart was filled with a boundless, melancholy sadness.

Jiang Yi finally came back to himself.

He gazed steadily at this young boy named Huaiwei — her son — his eyes unblinking. His tall frame slowly began to lower itself, crouching down until he was face to face with the child, at the same level. Then he reached out and gently touched the boy’s soft, curly hair.

“No. I like you very much, Huaiwei.”

His eyes felt a little hot. He smiled and said the words in a gentle voice.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Jiang Yi answered with certainty, giving a firm nod.

The young prince was excited again, and let out a strange yelp, leaping into the air.

As if wanting to share his excitement with someone, he turned and shouted toward Pu Zhu: “See! The Great General really came! He says he likes me!”

Pu Zhu felt her own mood instantly lifted as if by contagion. She met Jiang Yi’s gaze as he looked over toward her, smiled, nodded at him, and invited him inside.

“Great General, I was going to go find you myself, but they wouldn’t let me. So I had to wait here! I was so frustrated — I thought you wouldn’t come! If they had kept me from meeting you, I was planning to refuse food for three days!”

Huaiwei was naturally friendly, and the initial shyness he’d felt quickly disappeared. He grabbed Jiang Yi’s sleeve and chattered on with complaints.

Jiang Yi couldn’t help but break into a hearty laugh — the first real, open laugh he had had in sixteen years. His laughter was free and full, and with one arm he scooped the child right up and carried him into the room.

Pu Zhu gave the space over to them, retreating into her own room without coming back out. But she could faintly hear laughter drifting through at intervals — most of it was Huaiwei’s noise.

The hours passed one by one.

At the end of the hai hour, the sounds from the outer room fell silent, and the air became quiet.

Ju A’mu knocked at the door to signal that Jiang Yi was leaving.

Pu Zhu came out. She saw that Huaiwei had already fallen asleep, lying sprawled face-down on the couch, covered with Jiang Yi’s outer garment.

Pu Zhu walked Jiang Yi out.

He gazed one last, long look at the young prince sleeping soundly — who was even now smacking his lips as if dreaming of food — then walked outside, paused in the courtyard, and turned to face north, in the direction of Penglai Palace. He knelt and solemnly touched his forehead to the ground in obeisance. Then he rose, and told her to go no further.

Pu Zhu said: “Safe travels.”

He gave a faint nod, and continued walking toward the outer gate. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped and turned around. In a low voice, enunciating each word clearly, he said: “Thank you, young lady.”

Pu Zhu watched that tall figure stride away until it disappeared into the darkness of the night.

The sleeping Huaiwei was carried by palace guards into a carriage and taken back to Penglai Palace. In his dreams, besides food, perhaps from now on there would also be a hero whose image had grown clear and sharp.

The next day, Guo Lang’s wife, Madam Yan, came in a carriage to visit Pu Zhu.

Whatever the inner workings of it all, the fact remained that it was a letter from Crown Prince Tutor Guo Lang that had first set in motion the re-examination of her grandfather’s case and ultimately led to his exoneration and the restoration of his name.

Pu Zhu bowed to Guo Lang’s wife in thanks. Madam Yan smiled and helped her up, and said some words about how her husband and Pu Zhu’s grandfather had been friends for half a lifetime, and that everything had only been as it should be. When the courtesies were done, Madam Yan looked around the room and said: “This postal station has all sorts of people coming and going — anyone can walk in. It’s not suitable for a long stay. As for the Pu family’s old residence, although it has been returned to you, I made a special trip to look it over, and it’s in complete disarray. Even with repairs, it would likely take half a year before anyone could move in. And besides, you’re alone, and even once it’s restored, living there by yourself would be inconvenient. I regard you as my own granddaughter. If you don’t mind, once His Majesty has granted you an audience, I’ll take you home to live with us. The space may be modest, but there are spare rooms ready and waiting — long prepared for your arrival — and it’s at the very least the sincere intent of both me and the Crown Prince Tutor. What do you think?”

The Pu family’s old home was in the area of Guiren Ward in the northeast. Eight years ago, after the Pu family was convicted, the residence had been taken over by the Ministry of Works. In her previous life, after Pu Zhu arrived in the capital, she had gone to live with the Guo family — staying there until she later became the Crown Princess and moved into the Eastern Palace.

In the eyes of others, her living with the Guo family made perfect sense.

Pu Zhu had no intention of changing how this had unfolded in her previous life. She agreed, and expressed her thanks again.

Madam Yan was very pleased. She took Pu Zhu’s hand and chatted warmly for a while longer. After seeing Guo Lang’s wife off, that evening a palace messenger arrived, bringing word that the Emperor would summon Pu Zhu the next day, and commanding her to prepare herself to enter the palace.

Three days after Pu Zhu arrived in the capital, on this day, she rode the imperial carriage that had come to fetch her and arrived at the imperial palace.

The Emperor received her in the side hall, the Moon Osmanthus Hall.

Emperor Xiaochang was around forty years old, with a dignified, upright face and a beard beneath his chin. The imperial bearing of the Son of Heaven was naturally such that one dared not look upon him directly. He praised Pu Zhu’s grandfather for the meritorious service he had rendered in years past, and offered her words of encouragement. Palace attendants then read out the Emperor’s bestowals upon the Pu family granddaughter: she was enfeoffed as a District Mistress, entitled to the tax revenue of one district of one hundred households, and additionally granted five hundred bolts of silk and ten thousand in coin.

The title of District Mistress was ordinarily given to daughters of princes of the imperial clan who had inherited enfeoffment. For a family like the Pu family, a great minister’s household, this was an exceptional and extraordinary bestowal of grace.

Pu Zhu prostrated herself and gave thanks for the imperial favor. After seeing the Emperor, under the guidance of Song Changsheng, who had originally escorted her to the capital, she then paid successive visits to Empress Shangguan and Consort Hu, the Noble Consort.

The Empress and the Noble Consort were naturally all pleasant smiles and gracious expressions. Pu Zhu conducted herself without error, received yet another round of gifts and bestowals, and finally concluded the proceedings and returned to the postal station.

Guo Lang’s wife sent word that she would come to fetch her the next day.

That evening, Pu Zhu and Ju A’mu were in the middle of packing up their things when suddenly another palace messenger arrived from outside. This one, however, was not from the Emperor’s side — but from Penglai Palace.

Grand Empress Dowager Jiang Shi had sent word: she was to enter Penglai Palace tomorrow.

Pu Zhu remembered that in her previous life, it had been three days after the Emperor had seen her that Jiang Shi finally summoned her for an audience.

In this lifetime, it had come three days earlier than before.