In the early summer afternoon, the weather was neither cool nor too warm — perfectly suited for a midday nap. The ever-sleepy Fengxi was, of course, stretched out on the bamboo couch in her room, sleeping deeply. Han Pu sat beside her, bored, counting his fingers. He wanted to wake Fengxi up, but he knew the consequence of doing so was getting his forehead rapped, so he didn’t dare. Yet he couldn’t fall asleep himself either, and so he had no choice but to sit there idly.

A mosquito circled Fengxi’s face, seemingly deliberating on the best spot to strike. Han Pu picked his moment carefully and clapped both hands together. The mosquito — too slow and too timid to commit — perished between his palms. But that crisp, sharp clap rang out conspicuously loud in the quiet room. Han Pu carefully cast a glance at Fengxi, and only after confirming she hadn’t been woken did he breathe a sigh of relief.

“Han Pu, what are you sitting here for? Why haven’t you gone to sleep?” A voice suddenly drifted in from the window. He looked up — it was none other than Jiu Wei, the one who had invited them to stay here, standing before the window with a smile, watching him.

“Shh…” Han Pu raised a finger to his lips, then pointed at the sleeping Fengxi, signaling him to keep his voice down.

“Don’t worry — unless she wants to wake up herself, thunder wouldn’t stir her.” Jiu Wei glanced over at Fengxi. “Since you’re not sleeping, why not come to my room for a chat?”

“Since she won’t wake up, you can just come in here and chat.” Han Pu shot a look at Fengxi, then waved him over.

“Fair enough.” Jiu Wei came around to the door and pushed it open.

“Brother Jiu Wei, have you known Sister for a long time?” Han Pu slid over on the long bench to make room for Jiu Wei.

“Mm, it’s been quite a while — not much shorter than that Hei Feng Xi, I’d say.” Jiu Wei tilted his head slightly, calling up the memory. “I remember that when I met her, she was trying to snatch the half-finished roasted whole chicken out of my hands.”

“Of course! It was about food again!” Han Pu sighed in the manner of an elder, then pressed further. “How long ago was that? What was she like then?”

“How long ago… I can’t quite remember clearly. Maybe nearly ten years by now.” Jiu Wei narrowed his eyes slightly, as though catching a glimpse once more of that Fengxi who had dared to use her light footwork in broad daylight to fly into the Luori Lou and snatch his roasted chicken. “As for what she was like — she seems to have always been exactly the same. No real change. Well, perhaps she’s grown a little taller.”

“Oh.” Han Pu’s eyes lit up as he looked at Jiu Wei. “And after that?”

“After that, she freeloaded at the Luori Lou — eating and staying without paying — for four full months before she was willing to leave. The reason she left was that she heard there was a place called Ru Meng Lou in Nan Guo where not only were there many beautiful women, but the Ru Meng pastry made by those women’s own hands was said to be the finest in all of Dong Chao!” Jiu Wei shook his head, looking at Fengxi on the couch. “Bai Fengxi may be acclaimed as the foremost woman in the world, but she really ought to carry another title as well — the greatest glutton under heaven!”

Han Pu looked at Fengxi for a long moment, then smiled contentedly. “If I could make the most delicious food in the world, then…”

“Then she would never leave you, is that it?” Jiu Wei finished the thought for him.

“Exactly!” Han Pu’s eyes gleamed. “Then Sister and I would always be together!”

Jiu Wei looked at that bright, eager expression on his face — looked at the adoring, clinging gaze Han Pu fixed on Fengxi — and could not help but shake his head with a sigh. He patted the boy’s still slightly thin shoulders. “Han Pu, even if you were the world’s greatest chef, she would not always stay by your side. Ah… you really shouldn’t have met her this early in your life.”

“Why?” Han Pu didn’t understand.

Jiu Wei didn’t answer. He watched him with a smile for a long moment, then patted him on the head and asked, “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.” Han Pu didn’t understand why he was suddenly asking his age, but answered honestly all the same.

“Fourteen… that’s the age when one begins to develop a vague and indistinct fondness for girls. But isn’t she your sister? How could you have developed feelings for her?” A peculiar glint flickered in Jiu Wei’s eyes.

“You’re talking nonsense!” Han Pu immediately cried out upon hearing this — but then reflexively turned to check whether he had woken Fengxi. Seeing her still fast asleep, he turned back, reassured, and glared at Jiu Wei. “I have no such feelings! She is my sister!”

“All right, you’re still so young — you don’t yet understand what it means to be fond of someone.” Jiu Wei waved a pacifying hand. At this moment, the smile on his plain face made him look remarkably handsome, though one also sensed something subtly unsettling — just where exactly that unsettling feeling lay was impossible to say. There was always a mysterious aura about him. “Right now, perhaps you only feel that being with her is wonderful — that as long as you are with her, there is no danger, no hardship, no sorrow or grief… Han Pu, am I right?”

Han Pu looked at him in puzzlement, then gave a slight nod. He only felt it very strange that this man could somehow know all of that.

“I understand.” Jiu Wei let out a sigh. His gaze swept over the person sleeping so soundly on the couch. “She seems extraordinarily lazy — she doesn’t do anything all day, spending most of her time sleeping, and what waking hours she has are mostly spent seeking out good food. On top of that, her laughing, scolding, moods, and manner are all utterly unrestrained. Such a person seems, on the surface, to have little worth noting. And yet one cannot help feeling that there is nothing in this world that could ever get the better of her — as if she alone could hold up the sky if it came crashing down. Isn’t that so?”

Han Pu looked at him, caught somewhere between understanding and not, unable to grasp why this man was saying all of this — and yet vaguely feeling that he was right.

“That is exactly why I said you shouldn’t have met her this early.” Jiu Wei sighed. “A person like her — you could search the entire world for a hundred years and never find another. How could you ever truly see anyone else after her?”

Han Pu was only growing more and more confused. What on earth was this man trying to say? After all that rambling, what was he actually trying to tell him?

Jiu Wei saw the bewilderment in Han Pu’s eyes and gave a faint smile, then asked, “Han Pu, have you ever seen Princess Chunran of Hua Guo?”

“Yes.” Han Pu nodded.

“And what did you think of her?” Jiu Wei asked again.

“Nowhere near as good as Sister!” Han Pu summed it up in a single sentence.

“The woman acclaimed as the foremost beauty under heaven — and she amounts to this in your eyes. Don’t you see? Who else will ever be able to catch your eye after this!” Jiu Wei rapped on his wooden-block head.

“What are you talking about! Why do I need anyone to catch my eye?” Han Pu had lost interest in what he was saying. “You’d be better off teaching me all of your culinary arts.”

“Ah, what a hopeless child! Meeting her is both your fortune and your misfortune!” Jiu Wei finally gave up on the idea of knocking something into that head, and walked out of the room. “Hua Chunran draws the world’s admiration with her peerless beauty — but when that beauty fades, she is nothing more than an ordinary woman. Yet what draws the world’s admiration to Bai Fengxi is her entire being — her laughter, her anger, her uninhibited spirit, her laziness, her love of food and play, the free and unrestrained radiance that is entirely her own. When she is one hundred years old, she will still be that same Bai Fengxi who makes you cry and makes you laugh!”

An early summer evening. A courtyard planted full of flowers. Beneath a tall plane tree, a wooden rocking chair had been set out, with a small side table beside it. On the table were arranged a few small plates of refreshments and a cup of clear tea. To lie back in the rocking chair, gaze up at the vast starry sky, enjoy the cool and gentle breeze, and have the company of a kindred spirit for light conversation — that was truly the life of an immortal!

“Ah, this comfort truly rivals an immortal’s life!” And indeed, there was someone giving voice to exactly that sentiment right now.

Fengxi lay with her eyes closed in the rocking chair, swaying lightly, as languidly at ease as one pleasantly warmed by fine wine.

“Jiu Wei, if only I could eat food made by you every day!”

“I’ve said it before — as long as you hire me as your personal chef, you can eat my cooking every single day.” Jiu Wei sat in a bamboo chair beside her, smiling as he watched Fengxi, who at this moment was curled up like a perfectly contented white cat.

“And I’ve said it before — I’m completely broke, so I could never afford to hire you.” Fengxi remarked idly.

“I recently learned a song. Would you like me to sing it for you?” Jiu Wei smiled and picked up the three-stringed instrument resting on the ground.

“Go ahead and sing.” Fengxi turned over on the chair and opened her eyes to look at him.

Jiu Wei set the instrument on the side table and plucked the strings with his long fingers. The music began. After only two or three notes, the melody already carried a faint, lingering sorrow.

“I open the window and reach for the passing breeze — are you still chasing after the shadow of clouds? The golden bells and the Loulan melody — did they not move you to stop and listen? Pause your wandering steps for a moment — the great desert blooms crimson with blood and rouged beauty!

I open the window and reach for the passing breeze — are you still chasing after the shadow of clouds? The scented sleeves and the startled-swan dance — did they not draw you to turn and smile? Pause your wandering steps for a moment — in the Zhaoyang Palace, three thousand strings resound!

I open the window and reach for the passing breeze — are you still chasing after the shadow of clouds? The brocade of flowing clouds and woven script — did they not tempt you to linger and stay? Pause your wandering steps for a moment — in the spring days, the silk threads drift like willow-down!

I open the window and reach for the passing breeze — are you still chasing after the shadow of clouds? The green plum trees of Changgan — did they not call back the returning swallow? Pause your wandering steps for a moment — the bamboo horse’s xiao weeps like a sob!”

Jiu Wei’s voice was low and slightly husky — and through it he drew out each thread of the song: the faint flicker of hope, the deep and lingering wish to hold someone back, the final disappointment, the sorrowful and desolate lament — until the listener felt they were standing right there within the song.

Han Pu and Yan Jiutai were drawn in by the singing without realizing it, and both drifted into the courtyard.

Fengxi seemed to be moved by the sorrow within the song. She raised her hand to shield her eyes, and was silent for a long moment before she spoke, her voice low and heavy. “You’ve been to Feng Guo?”

“Yes.” Jiu Wei set the instrument aside and reached for the teacup, passing it to Fengxi. “Three months ago I was still in Feng Guo. This song is widely known there — even a three-year-old child can sing it.”

“The bamboo horse’s xiao weeps like a sob…” Fengxi raised her hand to accept the teacup. She looked at the reflection of the night sky in the cup, then lifted her head to gaze at the heavens. “A xiao weeping like a sob, is it?”

“I imagine the person who composed this song must have been filled with great sorrow.” Jiu Wei’s gaze passed over Fengxi, and then he too looked up at the sky. In the light of the stars and moon, his plain face was remarkably animated — carrying a certain spirit, as though it possessed the ability to glimpse the hidden mysteries of heaven and earth. “Only this person’s sorrow was one they were utterly powerless to act upon.”

“It has been a very long time since I’ve been home. It has also been a very long time since I’ve heard this song.” A shimmer rose in Fengxi’s eyes — like the Mirror Lake rippling with the reflection of the moonlight, dazzling and brilliant and yet faintly misted with water. “And the person who composed this song has been gone for six years now… six years. Enough time for a body of warm flesh and blood to become a heap of white bones.”

“Are you thinking of going home?” Jiu Wei lowered his gaze to look at her, a secretive light flickering in his eyes.

“Going home… it is time I went back to have a look. And now I must go back to have a look.” Fengxi murmured softly with her eyes closed.

“Is it because of the person who wrote this song? Or because of what that home is now…” Jiu Wei’s words carried a subtle, probing edge.

Fengxi opened her eyes and looked at him. That single glance brought Jiu Wei’s unfinished words to an abrupt halt.

“So Sister is from Feng Guo.” Han Pu came over and sat down on the rocking chair.

“Mm.” Fengxi turned her head to look at Han Pu, reached up to stroke his head gently, then turned to Yan Jiutai after a moment. “Elder Brother Yan, I’ll trouble you to prepare traveling provisions.”

“Yes.” Yan Jiutai nodded, then pressed to confirm. “Traveling provisions to return to Feng Guo?”

“No — traveling provisions for you and Pu’er.” Fengxi shook her head.

Yan Jiutai heard this and looked at Fengxi with puzzlement.

“Elder Brother Yan, you once swore the Jiu Luo oath to me, vowing to serve me all your life.” Fengxi looked at Yan Jiutai. Jiu Wei, upon hearing this, could not help but let his gaze sharpen, fixing intently on Yan Jiutai.

“Yes.” Yan Jiutai knelt, took Fengxi’s hand, and pressed it to his forehead. “Whatever you command, I would not hesitate even at the cost of ten thousand deaths.”

“Then I need you to promise me this: for the next five years, you will stand guard by Han Pu’s side, and not allow any harm to come to him.” Fengxi rose to her feet. She bent slightly forward, pressing her palm to his brow, her expression grave and solemn.

“Yes!” Yan Jiutai answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“Tomorrow you will take Han Pu to Wu Shan, within the borders of Qiyun Tu City. This mountain is shrouded in mist year-round — outsiders who enter will lose their way and perish. Presently I will tell you the method for ascending the mountain. Once there, go to the highest peak, Hui Wu Peak, and seek out an eccentric old man who cannot open his mouth without reciting poetry and who fancies himself to be the most dashingly handsome man of the age.” Fengxi helped Yan Jiutai to his feet. “Tell him that someone has come to return the apprentice who wandered off eight years ago. He will take Pu’er as his disciple of his own accord. Pu’er must train under him for at least five years, so for those five years you must not stray a single step from Wu Shan — guard him at all times.”

“Jiutai will not fail what the young lady has entrusted!”

“Sister, does that mean you won’t be coming with us?” Han Pu heard this and quickly grabbed Fengxi’s hand.

“Pu’er, Sister must go home. I can’t take care of you any longer.” Fengxi drew Han Pu up from the rocking chair. “So you must learn to take care of yourself.”

“Why can’t Sister take care of Pu’er just because you’re going home? Do your family not want you to bring Pu’er back? Pu’er can take care of himself and won’t cause any trouble — and besides, Pu’er already said he would take care of Sister in the future!” Han Pu could not help raising his voice at this. He was like a little cat about to be abandoned, his voice carrying a thin, hoarse edge on the verge of sobbing.

“Pu’er, Sister’s home is not a place suited for you. That place would ruin you.” Fengxi gently gathered Han Pu into her arms. “And from now on I will no longer have the time to look after you — that is exactly why I am sending you to the old eccentric at Wu Shan. Though he is strange, his literary talent and martial arts are rarely matched in this age. You must study diligently — learn everything the old eccentric has to teach!”

“No! No!” Han Pu clutched at her robes with all his might. “You promised Pu’er you would never abandon him! You promised! You promised!”

Fengxi lifted Han Pu’s small face. Her eyes held a pool of tears — yet she refused with all her will to let them fall. “Pu’er, Sister promised, and so I will never abandon you. I am only sending you away to study. After five years, we can meet again.”

“No! I don’t want to go! I want to stay with Sister! Sister’s martial arts are so good — I can learn from Sister!” Han Pu cried out loud, and the tears at last broke through and streamed down.

Fengxi looked at him quietly. Her expression carried a gravity she had never shown before. Those eyes that always held a smile were now perfectly still — still as water without a single ripple.

“Sister… Pu’er doesn’t want to go… Pu’er will practice martial arts diligently… I won’t distract Sister or need looking after… Pu’er will be good and listen to Elder Brother Yan… Sister… please don’t leave Pu’er behind, alright?” Han Pu choked on his words, both hands gripping tight to the front of Fengxi’s robes. Tears streamed freely down his chest but he didn’t bother to wipe them away — terrified that the moment he loosened his grip, the person before him would vanish.

“Pu’er, this pair of jade pendants were given to Sister by Grandfather when she was born. Now Sister is giving you one half.” Fengxi drew a pair of matched jade pendants from her breast pocket and placed one half in Han Pu’s hand. “Sister said five years — and Sister always keeps her word. You must believe in Sister.”

“But…”

“Pu’er, didn’t you say you would take care of Sister? Then go and learn your skills properly, and in five years, come and take care of Sister!” Fengxi wiped the tears from his face. “Besides, a boy must never shed tears easily! Do you understand?”

“But I don’t want to be separated from Sister!” Han Pu clutched the half piece of jade tightly in his hand.

“A life spans decades — what does a mere five years amount to?” Fengxi held Han Pu close. This child now only reached her chest, but in five years he might well have grown taller than her. “Pu’er, be good — go to Wu Shan with Elder Brother Yan. After five years, Sister will come and bring you home. Alright?”

Han Pu held onto Fengxi. He could neither agree nor refuse, and so he only held on as tightly as he could.

“Jiu Wei, I’m going home. Would you be willing to be my chef?”

“Yes!”

The second day of the fourth month was the day of the grand wedding between Hua Guo’s Princess Chunran and Huang Guo’s heir to the throne, Huang Chao. Because the princess was the Hua King’s most beloved daughter, the wedding ceremony was the most lavish and magnificent that Hua Guo had seen in thirty years. The entire kingdom celebrated together, and all of Hua Du was immersed in joy and festivity.

The third day of the fourth month — the day after the princess’s wedding. For reasons no one could quite explain, Princess Chunran insisted on hosting a banquet that day at Jin Hua Palace for her two friends, Bai Feng and Hei Xi. The Hua King always granted whatever his most cherished daughter asked. And so a banquet was laid out in the great hall of Jin Hua Palace, specially for the invitation of Bai Feng and Hei Xi along with the crown prince’s close friend, the esteemed Young Master Yu Wuyuan. The Hua King himself hosted the three of them together with the princess and her new husband.

Among all the palaces within the Hua Wang Palace complex, only the one where Princess Chunran resided bore the name Luohua Palace. Every other palace was named with the character “Jin” — gold — as the first character. Furthermore, every single palace gleamed with glazed jade-green roof tiles, ornately carved ridge beams, and embroidered balustrades — an overwhelming splendor of gold and brilliant color that proclaimed Hua Guo’s wealth, the greatest of all six kingdoms.

In the great hall of Jin Hua Palace, a single banquet table had been set. The Hua King sat at the head. To his left sat Hua Chunran and Huang Chao. To his right sat Fengxi and Feng Xi. Directly across sat Yu Wuyuan. Palace attendants stood in waiting at the table’s side. The banquet was now halfway through, and host and guests were all in high spirits.

“Chunran raises a cup to both of you!” Hua Chunran personally poured the wine and carried the cups to Fengxi and Feng Xi with her own hands, her gaze passing over them both, her expression perfectly composed.

“Thank you, Princess.” Both of them accepted the wine and drained their cups in one go. Feng Xi’s bearing was dignified and poised, the very picture of a distinguished young gentleman’s refined elegance. Fengxi, on the other hand, drank with her mouth while her eyes darted freely from side to side.

“Chunran raises another cup to both of you. In this lifetime, to have gained… two such friends — Chunran will carry that joy to the end of her days!” Hua Chunran poured again.

“Heh heh… to have the foremost beauty under heaven as a friend — I, Fengxi, feel it must be a blessing earned from a previous life. Hua Beauty, this cup is my toast to you!” Fengxi gave a light laugh and drained her cup first as a salute.

“For Xi to be regarded as a friend by the Princess is an honor Xi feels most deeply. Xi borrows this cup to offer sincere congratulations on the Princess’s marriage, and wishes the Princess and the Crown Prince a lifetime of happiness together until their hair turns white.” Feng Xi also raised his cup in toast.

Hua Chunran raised her cup and drained it in one breath.

“Calm in expression, charming in laughter — truly the bearing of a person of great standing!” Fengxi gave Feng Xi a kick under the table, raising her cup to shield her lips, her voice barely above a whisper. “You black fox, you really have no luck.”

Feng Xi smoothly stepped aside without changing his expression, his face wearing a composed and elegant smile, his gaze forward, refined and gentle.

“I have long heard Chunran speak highly of Miss Feng, and seeing her in person today, she is indeed unlike ordinary people.” The Hua King looked at this Bai Fengxi of longstanding fame whom he was meeting for the first time, and felt privately that her manner was far too brazen — in the presence of a monarch such as himself, she was gulping wine and shoveling food as though she hadn’t eaten in a hundred years. Were it not for the other guests at the table, the Hua King would have had her shown out on the spot.

“Your Majesty, when you say I am unlike ordinary people, is it because you have never seen someone who eats as… hmm…” Fengxi took a great bite of a chicken leg and chewed a few times before continuing, “…as well as I do?”

“Oh?” The Hua King had not expected Fengxi to cut straight through to exactly what he was thinking — yet he immediately smiled and said, “As the saying goes, the capable one labors more, and the one who labors more must eat more. Miss Feng holds the world in her heart and assists all people — it must be an exhausting endeavor, and naturally she eats rather more than the common person.”

“Ha ha…” Fengxi let out a light laugh, raised her cup for a sip, glanced over at Hua Chunran, then turned to the Hua King. “Many thanks for Your Majesty’s kind praise. Xi offers a toast to Your Majesty!”

Huang Chao, upon hearing her laugh, cast his gaze toward her, seemingly in agreement. Yu Wuyuan’s gaze also moved to her. His lips shifted slightly — as though smiling, as though sighing.

“No, no — you have kept Chunran in such good spirits these past days, it is this King who ought to toast you in gratitude.” The Hua King raised his cup, then turned to look at Yu Wuyuan. “Young Master Yu’s face is as fine as jade, his bearing as exquisite as jade — this King toasts you as well!”

“I dare not accept such honor.” Yu Wuyuan rose serenely to his feet and raised his cup.

“To be toasted by a king — there are precious few in the world with such good fortune.” Fengxi smiled faintly — though her eyes dipped slightly, veiling that brief flicker of mockery. “Your Majesty’s regard for men of talent is truly admirable — no wonder they say you are a wise lord in the manner of Mengchang, and no wonder Hua Guo prospers so greatly!”

“Ha ha ha… Miss Feng flatters me.” Fengxi’s words settled over the Hua King like a soothing balm, and he laughed heartily. “Bai Feng, Hei Xi, and the foremost gentleman under heaven, Yu Wuyuan — if such individuals could be persuaded to remain in my Hua Guo, with your combined abilities, you would surely make Hua Guo flourish all the more!”

Fengxi heard this and laughed. “Your Majesty’s words are truly wonderful to hear. It is so prosperous here — fine wine and fine food every day — truly enough to make one forget about going home. Only Fengxi is a common person of no station, long accustomed to idleness. And besides, I am leaving tomorrow, so I can only offer my sincere thanks for Your Majesty’s generous invitation.”

At these words, everyone at the table except Feng Xi turned to look at her.

“What a pity…” The Hua King was still speaking when his gaze suddenly caught on an attendant approaching, who appeared to have something to say yet seemed reluctant to speak up. “What is it?”

The attendant, hearing himself addressed, quickly stepped close to the Hua King and murmured into his ear. As he spoke, the Hua King’s furrowed brow gradually eased and brightened. The smile on his face grew wider and wider with each word — and everyone at the table could not help but wonder what was being said.

“Ha ha ha ha…” When the attendant finished and withdrew, the Hua King threw his head back and roared with laughter. The sound thundered through the great hall, shaking the eardrums of all present. From this alone, one could see just how elated the Hua King was by what had just been reported.

“Father, what has made you so happy?” Hua Chunran voiced the question that was in everyone’s mind.

“Ha ha ha… Chunran, it is joyful news! The most joyful of news!” The Hua King’s laughter showed no sign of stopping.

“Since it is joyful news, do tell us, Father, so we may all share in the joy.” Hua Chunran rose from her seat and personally refilled his cup.

The Hua King drained the cup in one breath, then set the golden cup down on the table with a heavy clunk. He raised his head and looked at Huang Chao. “Zhao’er, the spy I had planted in Feng Guo has just reported — the Feng King is now gravely ill and near death. Is this not the greatest of joyful news? This is the moment for me to destroy Feng Guo in a single strike!”

Fengxi, who had been watching all of this with an easy smile, gave a slight movement of both brows at his words. Then her eyes flickered, sliding in turn to Huang Chao and Feng Xi.

“The Feng King gravely ill? Is this information reliable?” Huang Chao’s eyes narrowed slightly, then he asked with measured gravity.

Feng Xi swept a calm glance at the Hua King, then another at Huang Chao. A barely perceptible curve touched the corner of his mouth. He then looked toward Fengxi. Their gazes met — and Feng Xi raised his cup to her in a gesture of acknowledgment. Sure enough, he saw her eyelids lower slightly, concealing the cold, sword-sharp flash that had nearly escaped.

The Hua King said, “Naturally it is reliable. This intelligence came directly from the attendants closest to the Feng King himself, and furthermore the Feng King personally proclaimed it — he intends to issue a royal announcement making this news known to all under heaven. I expect within a few days, the entire realm will know that the Feng King is gravely ill.”

“Father, but why would the Feng King wish to broadcast news of his own grave illness to all under heaven?” Hua Chunran was puzzled.

“That, even this King is not entirely certain about. Perhaps this Feng Xingtao has become addled with illness and fallen into confusion — announcing this news to all under heaven amounts to telling the world that Feng Guo is without a capable leader.” At the thought, the Hua King could not help but furrow his brows as well.

“One cannot quite say Feng Guo is without capable leaders. Feng Guo’s Fengyun Cavalry is no simple force — in these ten years past, they have not suffered a single defeat. The Fengyun Cavalry is no small part of the reason Feng Guo has remained stable until now.” Huang Chao set down his golden cup. His gaze shifted toward Feng Xi, as though trying to read something from his face.

“The Crown Prince speaks true. It is said that Feng Guo’s Fengyun Cavalry was founded by Princess Xiyun of Feng Guo herself. That she could train such a formidable army is reason enough not to underestimate this Princess Xiyun.” Feng Xi gave a slight smile and echoed Huang Chao’s words without betraying anything in his manner.

The Hua King, however, remained unconvinced. He rose to his feet and declared with sweeping confidence: “What is so remarkable about that sickly Princess Xiyun? She’s nothing but a young woman — how much capability could she possibly have? The Fengyun Cavalry may not have been founded by her at all. The Feng King has only this one daughter and dotes on her excessively, so he may well have given her an empty title to honor her. Moreover, now that she faces the grief of losing her father, what frame of mind could she have for managing Feng Guo or the Fengyun Cavalry? This is the moment to annihilate Feng Guo in a single blow!”

“Destroy Feng Guo?” Hua Chunran could not help but exclaim. “Is now the right time?”

“Now is the most opportune moment!” The Hua King raised his golden cup. “Everyone — in five days I shall muster my troops and march on Feng Guo. I intend to offer Feng Guo as a wedding gift to my most beloved daughter!”

Everyone at the table rose and raised their cups, their voices joining in unison to offer their congratulations: “We wish Your Majesty a triumphant return in victory!”

“Ha ha ha… a triumphant return in victory! Of course — of course it shall be so!” The Hua King threw his head back and drained his cup.

Fengxi, Huang Chao, Feng Xi, and Yu Wuyuan all raised their cups and drained them as well — though the expression on each of their faces carried something quietly telling.

Coming out of the Hua Wang Palace and standing before the palace gates, Fengxi turned to look back at the endless succession of rooftops within. After a long moment, the corner of her mouth curved into a faint, slightly chilling smile. “Compared to this place, Feng Guo really does have far fewer people.”

“And how would you know that?” A soft voice reached her ear. She turned — it was Feng Xi, wearing a face full of sly, knowing amusement as he watched her.

“Black fox, now that you didn’t manage to marry the Hua Beauty, where do you plan to go next?” Fengxi narrowed her eyes and broke into a sweet smile.

“I’ve heard that Feng Guo is without capable people, so I’ve been thinking of going there to have a look. Since I couldn’t marry the Hua Guo princess, perhaps I can marry that sickly Princess Xiyun.” Feng Xi smiled with elegant ease, then raised his hand to beckon. Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan each led a horse over — one black, one white, both exceptional thousand-li steeds.

Upon hearing these words, the smile on Fengxi’s face slowly faded. She stood just like that, before the palace gates. Her expression went blank and still as she looked quietly at Feng Xi. Feng Xi looked quietly back at her, his faint smile unchanged on his face — yet the pair of hands within his sleeve had already formed a primed stance. One touch, and that would unfailingly be his most lethal and devastating strike. Equally, he knew that the hand within Fengxi’s sleeve had long since closed around her white silk ribbon — that soul-hooking cord capable of taking a life in the blink of an eye.

Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan came to a halt three zhang away from the two of them and did not advance another step. They knew well: go any closer, and they would be swept up in that current of force — and then, even if they did not die, they would surely be injured. Meanwhile, at the palace gates, the guards stationed more than three zhang from them suddenly felt a cold wave sweep over them. They all looked up at the sky, puzzled. The blazing sun was hanging high — it was already getting warm in early summer — so where had that sudden rush of cold come from?

To the guards, it seemed only a brief moment had passed. But to Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan, it felt as though an entire day and night had gone by.

At last, Fengxi was seen giving her sleeve a single wave. A gentle current of air swept through — as though sweeping away something that had been in the way. Feng Xi, meanwhile, gave only a slight lift of his hand, as though brushing something aside. And then the world was bright and clear and open once more.

“How much do you know? And what exactly are you intending to do?” Fengxi raised a hand and lightly brushed her brow.

“As much as you know, I know equally as much.” Feng Xi smiled faintly and stepped toward the Zhong brothers. “For now, I am only thinking of going to have a look. Would you like to share the road with me?”

Before the last word had fully left his mouth, a whisper of wind passed his ear. A white figure shot past and swept up onto the white horse. With a single sharp cry, the horse’s hooves were already flying forward.

“That’s more like it — why force yourself to hold back all this time?” Feng Xi shook his head with a faint smile, then leapt onto his horse. With a crack of the whip, he went straight after Fengxi. His voice could still be heard from a distance: “Zhong Li, Zhong Yuan — go home.”

Five days later, they had arrived at Feng Du, the capital city of Feng Guo.

Throughout the journey, Fengxi had not rested for a single moment — pressing forward without pause, riding without stop. The expression on her face was a cold solemnity rarely seen from her in a century’s span, and Feng Xi, remarkably, had not disturbed her at all, simply riding in her wake at a full gallop.

Upon reaching Feng Du, the city gates were found to be shut tight.

At a distance of approximately ten zhang from the gates, the white silk ribbon burst from Fengxi’s sleeve. With a wave of her hand, it drifted through the air like a wisp of white cloud floating free, swaying in the wind.

“Open the city gates!”

It seemed the soldiers guarding the walls had already seen her. A single commanding shout rang out, and the gates swung open. Fengxi flew in at full gallop, with Feng Xi following close behind.

The soldiers standing guard on either side of the gate lowered their heads and bowed, allowing them to pass through unimpeded.

Once inside the city, Fengxi continued to ride without slowing. The white silk ribbon remained floating in the air, not drawn back — it drifted and swayed as they rode. The ribbon seemed to serve as a passage token of sorts. Every person they passed in the city, upon seeing it, bowed their head and stood aside. And so the white horse and the black horse proceeded without obstruction, riding directly toward the Feng Guo royal palace.

At the gates of the palace, Fengxi finally reined in her horse and dismounted. Though the white horse was a superb thousand-li steed, five days of hard riding had left it gasping for breath. The moment it stopped, it collapsed to the ground in sheer exhaustion.

Some way off before the palace gates, sentries had spotted her from a distance and hurried forward to kneel in greeting. “We welcome the Princess’s return!”

“Rise. See to it that these two horses are properly cared for. The one behind me is my friend.” Fengxi issued these instructions without pausing, walking straight into the palace without breaking her stride.

Feng Xi showed not the slightest surprise at the manner in which the sentries had addressed Fengxi. He handed his horse over to the guards and followed behind her.

The moment she entered the palace, every person who caught sight of Fengxi fell to their knees in reverence. All around, the voices of attendants could be heard calling out in loud succession: “The Princess has returned to the palace… the Princess has returned to the palace…”

“Rise, everyone.” Fengxi swept a hand through the air and moved like the wind. In the blink of an eye she had already reached Yingshou Palace, where the Feng King resided. A dense crowd of palace attendants were gathered outside — a vast expanse of kneeling figures filling the ground: “We welcome the Princess’s return to the palace!”

“Rise, all of you. Where is my father the King?” Fengxi walked straight into the palace.

“In reply to the Princess — His Majesty is in his bedchamber and has been awaiting your return.” A palace attendant rose and jogged to follow behind Fengxi.

Inside Yingshou Palace, behind layer upon layer of gauze curtains, stood the royal bed carved from East Sea white jade.

Within the pale yellow gossamer canopy, the Feng King lay upon the bed. Though it was summer, thick embroidered quilts still covered him. His once-tall frame had been reduced to little more than skin and bone, deeply sunken into the bedding. His two wasted arms, however, he insisted on keeping outside the quilts. His eyes were open, and he lay there in quiet waiting.

The calls of “The Princess has returned to the palace… the Princess has returned to the palace…” had long since reached his ears. All the palace attendants knew he was waiting — waiting for his most beloved daughter, his daughter who so loved to wander. He was about to see his cherished Fengxi at last!

“Father! Father!”

She was here. She was here. My Fengxi!

“Father!” Fengxi swept the gauze curtain aside and stepped close to the bed. She drew in all the turmoil of emotion and called out to him in a soft, quiet voice.

“Fengxi, you’ve finally come home.” The Feng King looked at his dust-worn daughter. A loving smile crossed the gaunt and bony face. Then he waved his hand, and the palace attendants who had been standing in attendance gave their bow to the Princess before quietly withdrawing.

“Father! I’m sorry — your daughter has come back so late!”

Fengxi knelt at the bedside, reached out, and clasped her father’s two hands where they rested outside the quilts. Yet when had it happened — those hands that had once been strong and warm… had become so cold and thin?

“Not late, not late.” The Feng King raised his hand and gently stroked his daughter’s cheek. A feeling of joy and pride rose in his heart. This face was the union of himself and his late wife — the most beautiful face in all the world.

“Father, why didn’t you let your daughter know when you first became ill? I could have come home much sooner.” Fengxi looked at her father, so gravely ill, and a deep sense of guilt welled up inside her — blaming herself for wandering to every corner of the earth without knowing how to cherish these days at her father’s side.

“Fengxi, your father is not ill. Your father is near the end.” The Feng King spoke the fact of his own life drawing to its close with complete composure.

“Father!” At these words, a sharp pain struck Fengxi’s heart. She involuntarily clasped her father’s hands tighter — wanting to hold on with all her strength and not let him leave.

“My daughter is the celebrated Bai Fengxi, known throughout the world. Must you carry on like an ordinary child? Fengxi, do not cry. Know that everyone comes to this day eventually — there is nothing to grieve over. Simply treat it as your father leaving you for a little while. In time, you will come and be with your father again.” The Feng King touched a finger to the tear that had welled at the corner of his daughter’s eye and wiped it gently away. His expression was one of complete serenity. “Besides, your father has waited a long time for this day. Your father misses your mother deeply — your father is about to be reunited with her. Your father is glad.”

“Very well. Your daughter will not cry.” Fengxi raised her hand and brushed the tear from her cheek. The corner of her mouth curved, and a faint smile appeared. “Your daughter will not grieve either. I will simply think of it as Father going to find Mother. In another few years, your daughter will go and join you both.”

“Good, good, good — worthy indeed of being my, Feng Xingtao’s, daughter!” The Feng King smiled, then struggled to sit up. Fengxi quickly helped him.

“Fengxi, the first ruler of Feng Guo’s founding generation was herself a woman — Feng Duying. She was the only female general under the banner of Shi Di in those days, her bearing magnificent and her merits towering above all others. It was for this reason that she was granted enfeoffment as a king — the only female ruler in all of Dong Chao’s history. After my death, the throne of Feng Guo shall pass to you. I have already set down the royal decree in writing. The entire people of Feng Guo hold you in deep affection and esteem. And the Fengyun Cavalry, which you personally founded and built, will of course lend you their allegiance. When you ascend the throne, no one in Feng Guo will oppose it.” The Feng King drew the royal decree from beneath his pillow and placed it in his daughter’s hands.

Fengxi took the royal decree and ran her fingers over the yellow silk cloth.

“Fengxi, your wisdom and talent surpass others. In this age, very few can match you. Entrusting Feng Guo to you — your father’s heart is at ease.” The Feng King paused to catch his breath, then continued. “But there is one thing your father wishes to tell you. Looking at the present state of the world, every kingdom teems with extraordinary talents — it is a time when dragons gather and winds rise. The situation of six kingdoms each governing themselves independently is no longer sustainable. So you must either set your ambitions high and wage war to unify all under heaven — becoming a female emperor surpassing even our founding ancestor, the like of which has never existed since the dawn of creation — or you must cultivate only yourself and your own domain, and when a great sovereign at last emerges, offer up the kingdom in a peaceful surrender and spend the remainder of your days in peace and tranquility, sparing the people of Feng Guo the suffering of war.”

“Surpass the founding ancestor?” Fengxi murmured these words, and then gave a smile. She thought of someone, and the smile turned somewhat desolate. “Father, you have far too much confidence in your daughter.”

The Feng King did not smile. He fixed a piercing gaze on his daughter. Bright and keen intelligence shone within those eyes. “Fengxi, with your wisdom, your martial prowess, and the renown and esteem that the name Bai Fengxi commands throughout the realm — if you wished to become a female emperor, your father believes you could succeed. But if you only wish to cultivate yourself and remain apart, then one day Feng Guo will vanish — and Dong Chao will vanish as well — and a new empire will rise in their place. If that day comes, do not make futile resistance. Do not feel that you have failed your ancestors. And do not harbor any illusions that the balance of the six kingdoms can endure forever — it is simply the inevitable march of history.”

“As for what to do — let your daughter think it through carefully before deciding.” Fengxi set the royal decree to one side, then raised her head and looked at her father, making a solemn promise. “Father, there is one thing I can guarantee you: I will not let the people of Feng Guo suffer.”

“Good, your father believes you.” The Feng King nodded, then closed his eyes with a trace of weariness. “Feng Guo’s treasury is full and plentiful — no less than Hua Guo’s. Moreover, I have already moved all the treasures, rare antiques, and valuables amassed by our ancestors through the generations into the secret vault within your bedchamber. Whether you use this wealth to build a new empire or give it away, that is entirely up to you.”

“That secret vault — it is still there?” Fengxi could not help but ask, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yes, it is still there. These past years I have expanded it, but the method of opening it remains the one you know — only you and I in all the world are aware of it.” The Feng King opened his eyes and looked at his daughter. “Your appearance takes after both me and your mother, but in temperament you resemble me rather more. If you had a little more of your mother’s fierce pride and determination, you might truly become a female emperor.”

“Your mother… your mother and I grew up together since childhood, bound in deep affection. And yet between us we produced only you — one daughter — and no son. Pressed by the demands of family lineage, I took several consorts into the household in hope of producing a son to carry on the Feng bloodline. From the day I took concubines, your mother regarded me as a stranger to her. Until the day she died, she never allowed me near her again. I failed your mother, and the fact that I lived my entire life without a son — perhaps that was my punishment.”

“Father, so many years have passed. Mother has long since let go of her grievance.” Fengxi thought of her mother, who had died so young, and that expression of perpetual, quiet sorrow that she always wore. A shadow fell over her heart.

“Yes. If she still hasn’t let it go — well, I am about to go and find her now. I will ask her forgiveness in person.” The Feng King closed his eyes once more. “I am tired. Go back to your chambers and rest. Come see me again this evening.”

“Yes, Father.” Fengxi rose and left.