Ahead was dusk, the long street, thousands of dazzling flowers, and the Flower Festival night with floating lanterns on the water.

Behind were pursuing soldiers, shouts and battle cries, flashing blades and swords, and him.

The carriage sped forward. Su Jin sat in a daze, her mind empty save for the decaying palace towers of the twelfth month in the first year of Yongji—snow buried in her bones, fire weighing on her heart. She wanted to turn back to look, but felt it wasn’t enough. Gripping the carriage shaft with one hand, she gave an abrupt instruction without preamble: “Go, absolutely don’t stop.” Then she leaped down.

For a moment, Zhu Nanxian also forgot he should be dealing with the pursuing soldiers. Seeing the carriage speed away, he chased desperately. Halfway through the chase, he saw a figure jump from the cart, fall by the roadside and roll twice, not caring about the pain, simply climbing up and running toward him.

It really was him.

Still ten steps from Zhu Nanxian, Su Jin stopped.

Even though he was masked, she wouldn’t forget that bearing, wouldn’t forget those eyes—in them were lakes and mountains, her sun, moon, and starlight.

Meeting again at this moment, she realized they had been parted for years.

But what did it matter?

As long as they weren’t separated by the chasm between life and death, the long years could transform into a gentle, flowing stream within bone-deep longing.

Su Jin opened her mouth, wanting to call to him. Before she could make a sound, her eyes grew hot and a tear fell.

She wanted to laugh again. So this was what they meant by tears flowing before words could be spoken.

“Arrest these two!” Over there, Magistrate Hu and the Prefect were both relentless.

Only then did Zhu Nanxian remember there were pursuing soldiers. Reacting a step before Su Jin, he stepped forward and grasped her hand, protecting her behind him. The blade in his hand lifted, swung, and slashed, driving back several constables. He looked back at her, his gaze burning: “You go first, I’ll hold them off for you.”

But hearing this “go first,” Su Jin’s entire body trembled slightly. Her other hand also reached up to his arm, gripping firmly, then she pressed her lips together and shook her head.

Zhu Nanxian was startled. With this appearance of hers, it was as if she was being willful, determined to cling to him.

Yet he read it clearly and thoroughly from her clear, transparent gaze.

Even now she still felt it wasn’t real. He had “returned from the dead.” She feared that if she left again, he would disappear. Where would she go to find him?

Zhu Nanxian suddenly smiled, nodded, and responded gently, “Alright, then follow me.”

The constables had already surrounded them. The alley exit was blocked—escaping from there was no longer possible.

The enemy was many, they were few. The only option was to strike decisively.

Zhu Nanxian looked around. He was someone who had commanded three armies and presided over the realm. Just a few dozen disorganized small fries wouldn’t stump him.

Embracing Su Jin close at the waist, his blade pointed directly at the constable nearest to him. When he reached close range, his wrist flipped, blade edge up, blade back down, striking hard on the constable’s shoulder.

The constable cried out in pain and bent down. Zhu Nanxian’s toes touched the ground once, using the momentum to step onto the constable’s back. His balance was extremely good. Using the same method, borrowing shoulders or stepping on backs and waists, he walked through the air stepping on them, returning the way he came.

The constables were left confused by this maneuver. Only after coming to their senses did they realize this masked person had eaten the heart of a bear and the gall of a leopard, actually setting his sights on their Prefect.

“Protect Lord Zhang!”

In the twilight, someone shouted, but it was too late. Zhu Nanxian’s figure had already swept to Zhang Zhengcai’s side, the long blade at his neck. He lifted his chin toward the carriage, ordering: “Unhitch a horse for me.”

The blade edge was ice-cold, the sharp point had already pierced the skin. Warm blood slid down.

Zhang Zhengcai couldn’t even bother with anger anymore, his legs trembling as he ordered, “Hurry—hurry and prepare a horse for this hero!”

The horse was quickly prepared. Zhu Nanxian, holding Su Jin, leaped onto the horse. At the same time he withdrew his blade, freeing one hand to grab Zhang Zhengcai’s collar, about to drag him down from the horse.

Over ten constables nearby saw this—how could this be allowed? They immediately raised their blades to intercept.

Zhu Nanxian bent down on the horse and threw the person he was gripping at them, driving back the group.

Then he gripped another person’s wrist and bent it down, seizing the blade in his hand. Tossing the blade to his left hand, he swung the flat of it horizontally, driving back the other group as well.

On Flower Festival night, people had all gone to the Funan River banks in the city.

The horse was already galloping swiftly. This stretch of street and alley was silent, only a few red cherry branches reaching over the wall blooming vibrantly.

Zhu Nanxian handed the seized blade to Su Jin. Looking back, there were actually five or six fast horses pursuing.

Zhang Zhengcai and Yao Youcai, accustomed to tyrannizing their locality, having suffered such indignity, had bloodshot eyes, wishing they could chase him down and dismember him.

Just with these worthless trash?

Zhu Nanxian said to Su Jin, “Give me the blade.”

One end of the reins in his hand was tied to the blade, the other end tied in a knot and thrown toward the flower branches reaching over the wall. Letting the horse gallop forward, when he felt the branches stretched to their limit, he released the blade in his hand.

The long blade, using the force of the branches pulling back, rebounded swiftly.

The pursuing men didn’t understand what was happening. Seeing a blade slashing toward them through the air, they thought they’d encountered something unclean and were frightened into reining their horses to dodge.

The cherry branches shook violently, scattering a shower of pale crimson flower petals. The soft petals scattered on the wind, falling beside Su Jin and before her eyes.

Seeing the constables had been left far behind, Zhu Nanxian didn’t slow down. He galloped through this flower rain, left the narrow alley, came to the riverbank, and shouted loudly, “Boatman!”

Then, holding Su Jin, he dismounted. With a leap from the shore, he jumped onto a narrow covered boat, tossing a silver ingot to the boatman. “Row toward the lively places.”

This was upstream on the Funan River. Going another mile or two would reach the place in the city where people celebrated the Flower Festival and released river lanterns.

There were imperial envoys in Jinzhou Prefecture now. Tonight’s events—whether Prefect Zhang forcibly seizing a civilian woman or Magistrate Yao using the new policy to demand a share of the mulberry field profits—in both cases they were in the wrong. Thus, once they reached the bustling areas of the city, they wouldn’t dare make a commotion. If they wanted to capture them, they could only plan for the long term.

Zhu Nanxian stood at the bow, first thinking through all the causes and consequences of tonight, confirming there was temporarily no danger, before lifting the curtain to enter the boat’s canopy.

A candle lamp was lit beside the low table inside the canopy.

Su Jin sat beside this candle lamp. She was still somewhat dazed. Hearing him lift the curtain to enter, she immediately raised her eyes to look at him.

She was different from Zhu Nanxian. Three years—at least Zhu Nanxian knew she was alive, only mistakenly thinking she was in Ningzhou. But she had thought he was already gone, walking alone and solitary as if traversing the road to the underworld.

Even now, having seen the light again, her heart couldn’t settle.

She was so afraid it was a dream.

Zhu Nanxian called softly, “Ah Yu.”

Su Jin’s tears immediately fell again, slowly filling her face. But only when Zhu Nanxian drew her into his embrace, familiar and warm breath washing over her, settling her enough to know this dream couldn’t be shattered, did she dare to sob aloud.

She actually rarely shed tears, but right now she simply couldn’t hold them back.

Just like when she was nine years old, hiding in an ox cart leaving the old residence, crying alone under a roadside tree for a day and night. When she raised her head, she saw her grandfather standing perfectly well before her, saying, “Ah Yu, your grandfather is still here. In the future, we grandfather and grandchild will still be together.”

Her grandfather never came in the end.

Fortunately, in this world there was ultimately someone who would never abandon her no matter what.

Whether in life or in death.

The boat had rowed to the bustling area. The clamor from both banks gradually rose. Sensing the person in his arms had calmed somewhat, only then did Zhu Nanxian softly begin, “Actually I…”

Before the words were out, Su Jin gently shook her head.

She raised her eyes to look at him. “Let’s not talk about this for these two days, alright?” She paused, then added, “Just these two days.”

Actually, how he had survived—Su Jin could roughly guess. After all, within the palace there were only two people with the ability to save him.

But she didn’t want to hear it yet. Having just reunited, once they became too entangled with the past, everything might become flowers in the mirror, moon in the water again.

Su Shiyu had been resilient and clear-minded her entire life. This moment was a rare instance of willfulness and weakness.

Zhu Nanxian looked at her—familiar eyes, familiar gaze, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, her clear, transparent gaze reflecting him and the firelight.

A thousand, ten thousand flavors surged in his heart, as if someone were drawing out his longing that had settled for years from his heart, from his blood and bones, strand by strand, then re-inscribing it stroke by stroke.

Too much, too deep, too heavy—a lifetime wouldn’t be enough to inscribe it all.

Outside the boat the clamor grew louder. They had reached the liveliest place.

The boatman asked from outside, “Young masters, shall we dock?”

Zhu Nanxian still looked at Su Jin. That gaze seemed to ignite a flame in his heart. Somehow, he suddenly gripped her hand in return and asked without preamble, “Can they be safe tonight?”

Su Jin was startled. After a moment she realized he meant Yun Xi’s group.

Before she could answer, Zhu Nanxian asked again, “Just tonight, tonight—how did you arrange it?”

His gaze burned. The palm holding her hand grew hotter and hotter.

Su Jin suddenly understood his meaning.

Lowering her eyes, she answered softly, “The people we rescued were sent to the Yunlai Inn on Liuyang Street. The imperial envoy is staying on the adjacent street. Yunsheng and Zhao Lin are both there. Zhang Zhengcai and Yao Youcai absolutely wouldn’t dare alarm the imperial envoy. Before tomorrow’s duty hours, Miss A Xiang and Master Jiang’s group won’t be in danger.”

Hearing her say this, Zhu Nanxian nodded. “Good.” Then he called loudly, “Boatman, dock!”

On both banks, flowers dazzled the eyes. Lanterns floated on the river, the splendor not yet dispersed, like stars falling into water but unable to extinguish their fire. There were young women singing duet melodies, and young men coming to meet them, drawing waves of teasing laughter.

Such splendor was all the splendor of this mundane world—real, mortal, belonging to those with hearts. Yet it didn’t belong to him and her.

Zhu Nanxian held Su Jin’s hand, walking against the crowd toward the end of the street. Entering a neither vulgar nor elegant inn, he placed a silver ingot on the counter. “I want a superior room and a pot of your best wine.”

The innkeeper had gone out to see the flower lanterns. Only one waiter remained in the inn. He fetched the wine, showed the two of them up to the Heaven-character room on the second floor, then hurried out to watch the excitement.

The room had no candles lit. Zhu Nanxian closed the door, and in the darkness called in a hoarse voice, “Ah Yu.”

Hearing her softly “Mm” in response, he lifted her horizontally at the waist, placed her on the bed, and bent down over her.