On the twenty-ninth day of the eighth month, the Feng and Feng armies reunited at the Bai capital.
On the first day of the ninth month, the Feng King and Shizi Lanxi personally rewarded and commended the armies stationed inside and outside the Bai capital. Through the fifth day of the ninth month, the Feng and Feng armies remained encamped inside and outside the Bai capital, resting and recuperating.
The sixth day of the ninth month. Clear skies. Before the Xieyi Palace within the Bai royal compound.
“We greet the Feng King!” The palace guards at the entrance knelt in unison to welcome the queen who seemed to arrive carried by the wind.
“Rise.” Xiyun waved her hand. “Is Shizi Lanxi in the palace?”
“His lordship is in the Wuhe Hall.” The head guard answered respectfully, yet made no immediate move to go and announce her arrival.
This was a peculiar thing. Whether the guards, attendants, or palace servants belonged to the Feng Kingdom or the Feng Kingdom, no one had ever instructed them on the matter — and yet, without exception, whenever the Feng King and Shizi Lanxi visited each other, no announcement was ever made. It seemed as though even if the Feng King — or Shizi Lanxi — happened to be bathing, the other could simply walk in, and that would be perfectly acceptable.
“Mm.” Xiyun gave a faint nod and walked directly toward the Wuhe Hall, with Jiu Wei following close behind her like a shadow.
The moment she crossed through the palace gate, the faint strains of singing drifted toward her.
“…Still like one gazing at the lotus reflected in the water, black hair as it was, brows veiled in wisps of mist…”
“Qiwu is singing the ‘Song of Drunken Wine’ again.” Xiyun’s brow furrowed faintly, for no particular reason she could name.
“Perhaps everyone carries within them a longing for a drunken song of their own.” Jiu Wei said quietly.
Passing through the long corridor and rounding the corner of the pavilion, the Wuhe Hall came into view ahead. The palace servants and attendants standing watch outside the hall all bowed silently to the Feng King.
“…Helping me dress in my patterned Xiang silk skirt. She parts her lips to ring out the ‘General’s Command,’ and in green robes dances open the ‘Lotus Rising from the Water.'”
In the hall, elegant yet touched with ease, the cold and strikingly beautiful songstress was giving full voice to her song. At the center of the great hall, the dancer in blazing red robes swirled and spun in graceful dance. High upon his throne, Lanxi sat with his body tilted at a slight lean, a jade cup in hand, dark eyes half-open, half-closed — it was impossible to tell whether the haze upon him was from the wine, or from the singing and dancing before him.
“The beauty and the jade wine each enhance the other’s charm, the flowing waves of feeling all but drunk with longing.”
The clear tones of the pipa were like a shallow stream darting out from a mountain gully. The singing was like a bell lightly struck by the wind — pure and bright, yet carrying within it a thread of tender, wistful longing. The dancer floated and spun with the rhythm of the melody, and the sweep of that crimson garment in flight was like a blazing cloud of morning fire — its gentle flame giving off a soft and vivid glow. As she swirled, she became like a red lotus blooming above jade-green leaves, exhaling delicate fragrance from its petals, and within those petals, a face as lovely as crystalline snow dissolving in warmth…
“Long reunion, and one forgets the darkening autumn clouds; lost in joy, one no longer marks the flowing light of water. From where does a white jade flute come flying, its ‘Parting at the Willows’ shattering the lotus blossom one note at a time…”
Those half-closed eyes suddenly opened and shot straight toward the entrance of the great hall. That small, subtle movement caught the songstress’s attention. The pipa fell silent, the clear singing paused, and her gaze shifted toward the entrance. The silhouette standing outside the hall — perhaps because it was backlit — seemed to carry a faintly brooding air. With the music and song halted so abruptly, the dancer who had still been moving became like a puppet stripped of its animating spirit, uncertain of her next step. She turned her head in confusion, and in doing so caught a glimpse of a figure stepping into the hall. Before she could make out the face, a powerful presence swept toward her through the air.
“We greet the Feng King.” Feng Qiwu cradled her pipa and bowed gracefully.
“I… I greet the Feng King.” Lang Hua, for reasons she could not explain, suddenly felt a faint, inexplicable flutter of apprehension.
“Rise, both of you.” Xiyun waved a light hand, an elegant and gentle smile upon her face. “Qiwu’s singing is enough to make one forget all sorrow, and Princess Lang Hua’s dancing is beautiful enough to steal one’s soul.”
“Many thanks for the Feng King’s kind words. Qiwu will take her leave first.” Feng Qiwu gave another graceful bow, then turned and departed the hall.
“Lang Hua… Lang Hua…” Lang Hua twisted the long red silk sash in her hands, and stole a quiet glance at the gracious and amiable Feng King. “I… I am going to find General Xiu!” With that, she rushed out of the great hall.
Watching the hurried retreating figures of Feng Qiwu and Lang Hua, then turning back to look at Lanxi, who was still tilting at a leisurely angle in his throne, Xiyun felt a strange and faintly absurd sensation rise in her heart. A scene seemed to flash before her eyes — in some solemn and magnificent golden hall, a dignified and noble ruler was contentedly sipping fine wine, enjoying the graceful singing and exquisite dancing of beautiful palace ladies and dazzling consorts, when she suddenly walked in — and the singing broke off, the dancing dissolved, and all those lovely women retreated, some in haste, some in quiet — In that moment, Xiyun could not help but laugh. But that laughter, unknowing, carried a sharpness she herself had not perceived.
“It seems I have come at an inopportune moment — I have quite interrupted Shizi Lanxi’s leisure.”
“And what moment does the Feng King consider the correct one to come?” Lanxi finally rose from his chair, and descended from the throne platform at an unhurried stroll, jade cup still in hand, his gaze settling on the person in the hall with tranquil composure.
Watching the figure approach — only a few casual, unhurried steps — and yet in his walking, there was something boundlessly graceful and unrestrained. Even that faint smile on his face, even the hand holding the cup half-raised, not a single thing was without beauty, not a single thing was without elegance. Yu Wuyuan and Huang Chao each possessed looks and bearing no less striking than his — yet the same manner of movement rendered Yu Wuyuan with the ethereal lightness of an immortal, and Huang Chao with the noble, commanding force of a sovereign. There was no one else in this world whose every word and movement could be so breathtakingly beautiful, so naturally flowing as music, as the person now before her.
“Or perhaps in the deep stillness of the night…” One step apart, Lanxi tilted his head down slightly, his ink-dark eyes like an unfathomable deep pool — yet because of how the light fell and refracted, they reflected back a dim and elusive glow. “Would the Feng King be willing to bring fine wine from the Western Regions and come find Shizi Lanxi to drink and discuss heroes together?” As he finished speaking, his gaze seemed to drift, as though without intention, to glance past Xiyun toward the person standing behind her.
That single glance caused Jiu Wei, standing quietly behind Xiyun, to feel a chill cross his face. The feeling brought him back to the night before last.
“It is so hot, Xiyi — do you know any kind of ice-cold inner technique? Help me cool down a little.” Jiu Wei had carried the night snack into the Qingfei Palace where the Feng King was temporarily staying, setting the food down on the table, and looked at Xiyun sitting in the lamplight without a bead of sweat on her brow. He could not help but feel a pang of envy. “How can the ninth month in the Bai Kingdom be this hot! How do you feel nothing at all!”
“Poor Jiu Wei, afraid of cold and afraid of heat alike.” Xiyun looked at the tiny beads of sweat forming at his temples and shook her head with helpless amusement. She rose, reached out, and took hold of both his hands. In an instant, Jiu Wei felt a wave of cool, clear sensation flow in from the center of his palms, spreading gradually to his forearms, to his shoulders… before long, his entire body was cool and refreshed, and that stifling heat was swept away entirely.
“Xiyi, have you truly been practicing some ice-cold inner technique?” Jiu Wei asked in genuine astonishment.
“This is not an ice inner technique — it is the Ghost Spirit technique passed to me by the third young master of the Qi family.” Xiyun blinked as she said it.
“What? The Qi family’s Ghost Spirit technique?” Jiu Wei could not help but give an involuntary shudder.
“That’s right — the very Ghost Spirit technique that, once practiced, means one never grows up and never grows old.” Xiyun nodded with great solemnity.
“I would rather not, then.” Jiu Wei now felt not just cool, but outright freezing all over! What kind of joke was this — the Qi family? That eerily ghostly Qi family? Could one touch anything associated with them? He immediately wanted to pull his hands free, but they were held in Xiyun’s grasp and could not move a single bit.
“Xiyi.” Jiu Wei called to her gently, hoping she would draw back whatever this Qi family Ghost Spirit technique was.
Then suddenly another wave of cold swept in from behind him, and he turned instinctively to look — only to find that Lanxi, no one could say when, had arrived and was now standing at the doorway, his gaze passing over the two hands clasped together. Jiu Wei felt as though his hand had been sliced by a blade of ice — cold and sharp all at once!
In that moment, he quietly lowered his gaze, gave a silent, soft smile, and said, “Jiu Wei will take his leave first.” With that, he stepped back and withdrew from the great hall.
Xiyun looked at Lanxi, her brow shifting — she was genuinely surprised by what he had just said. “Though the night is long, Shizi Lanxi should not be lacking in those who can share wine and good cheer with him.”
“But the only one who can drink a thousand cups with this lord and remain undrunk is the Feng King.” Lanxi smiled with elegant ease, his long, phoenix-shaped eyes lifting gently, the ink-dark pupils glittering with a crystalline light.
“Is that so?” Xiyun gave a faint smile, carrying a mild trace of irony. “Shizi Lanxi’s capacity for wine is admirable, only… the wine does not intoxicate — rather, one intoxicates oneself. Has Shizi Lanxi already drunk a thousand cups today? Or is there perhaps something else that has him so intoxicated? You do appear to have rather a tipsy air.”
“Shizi Lanxi is not drunk, only…” Lanxi raised his cup close to his nose, shaking his head with what seemed like mild regret, “this is the orchid-spirit wine freshly brewed this year — why does it seem to have a slightly sour note?” He shifted closer, leaning forward slightly, so that the faint wine-touched warmth of his breath fell against Xiyun’s cheek. “Can the Feng King smell it?” His wrist tilted gently, and the jade cup arrived at Xiyun’s lips. “Have the Feng King taste it and tell Shizi Lanxi whether this is just his imagination.” Those eyes, dark as inlaid jet, fixed on her without blinking.
Without warning, a faint warmth crept across her face. She lowered her eyes and stepped back — but that figure followed like a shadow, and the cup remained at her lips.
She looked up and glared at him with a trace of mild irritation, then turned her head to the side. “Shizi Lanxi truly is drunk. There is nothing sour about this wine.”
“Is that so?”
The voice was right at her ear, the wine-warmed breath falling against her temple — and then a coolness, and the cup was at her lips. “The Feng King should also taste this wine — it is truly the sweetest thing imaginable!” The words had barely fallen when she felt a tightening at her waist, and she could not move. Then a cool stream flowed in through her lips.
A hand swept outward, a wide sleeve swept up — the palace doors closed swiftly and without a sound. A long arm drew her in, and two figures fitted together as one.
“Shizi Lanxi wishes only to be drunk together with the Feng King — and in the same way, the Feng King may only be drunk together with Shizi Lanxi!” The light and mild words carried within them an absolute and unyielding dominance. “So from now on, whenever the Feng King wishes to sing a drunken song, she need only sing it for Shizi Lanxi to hear!”
“Mmph…”
A single, very soft sound — then the great hall sank into complete stillness. And yet it flowed with a room-filling fragrance of orchid-spirit wine, clear and sweet, and occasionally, sounds drifted through it — a breathing just slightly hurried, and yet somehow like a long, slow sigh…
“This is so unlike you.” After a long while, a soft murmur touched with a trace of a sigh sounded from within the hall — Xiyun’s voice.
“Xiyun…” Lanxi called her name softly, fingertips tilting up her chin. Perhaps it was the warmth of the wine — the cheeks that were usually cool as jade and white as snow were now flushed with the faintest rose color, cherry lips full and reddened, clear eyes shimmering like autumn water. “The beauty and the jade wine each enhance the other’s charm, the flowing waves of feeling all but drunk with longing…” He leaned his head forward until their foreheads touched, breath mingling with breath. “From now on, all the charm and longing belong only to me!”
“This is so unlike you.” Xiyun said the same words again. Her head tilted back slightly, as though to see clearly the person before her at arm’s length. She raised her hand and lightly stroked this face so close it nearly blurred — the brows and eyes still unrivaled in this world for their graceful beauty, the faint smile still on the lips still pure and serene, still dignified and elegant. Only that pair of eyes — as unfathomable as a deep sea — had become somehow different. Those eyes, black as the night sky, now carried the glimmer of stars within them, and amid that glinting light was a warmth of tender feeling that had not been seen in ten years — a soft, barely-there warmth, like a dim and gentle flame…
“We…” The words came softly, but at the edge of her lips they vanished again. Her fingertips moved toward those long phoenix eyes. Those ink-dark pupils were fixed steadily upon her, and within them lay a thread of hope concealed very, very deep — yet precisely because it was buried so deep, it became all the more something to sigh over. “Lan Xi…” Her voice disappeared once more, and then in its place came a long, quiet sigh. A faint smile bloomed at the corner of her lips — but that smile was like something from a dream: so beautiful, and yet so misty and elusive, impossible to capture in the hand.
The hall returned to stillness once more. These two people, acquainted for over ten years, were for the first time this close to each other. For the first time, their heads rested against each other. For the first time, their heartbeats answered one another… And yet it was only here, in this Wuhe Hall with the doors drawn shut.
A long while later, a quiet voice rose again within the hall — soft, but clear and self-composed: “When do we… set out?”
In a secluded corner of the Xieyi Palace, Feng Qiwu sat quietly in a garden pavilion, pipa still cradled in her arms, her head bowed in silent contemplation. Whatever she was turning over in her mind could not be read from that cold and beautiful face — not a single trace.
“Elder Sister Feng.”
That sweet, clear voice roused Feng Qiwu from her reverie. She looked up — Lang Hua was standing before her.
“Did you not go to find General Xiu?” Feng Qiwu said in her usual cool, even tone.
“I could not find him — I did not know where to look.” Lang Hua sat down across from Feng Qiwu. That little face, which ordinarily seemed a stranger to worry, was now filled with tangled concern — brows drawn tightly together, as though troubled by something. “Other than near the Feng King’s side, I truly have no idea where to look for him.” Those last words trailed off as she spoke them, lower and lower, as though an unconscious murmur to herself.
Feng Qiwu looked at her, and in those cool, clear eyes, a thread of compassion rose — and along with it, a hint of quiet self-pity born of recognition.
“Though General Xiu holds the honored station of a great general of the Fengyun Cavalry, he is, at his core, even more shy than we women. It may be that he is too bashful to face you, and so does not dare come to find you.”
“I despise myself.” Out of nowhere, Lang Hua suddenly blurted these words.
Feng Qiwu started, and looked at Lang Hua.
“I despise myself — I truly do!” Lang Hua stared blankly ahead at some fixed point in the distance, her eyes glassy. “I am a princess of the Bai Kingdom, yet at this moment I am someone else’s captive. This is the royal palace where I grew up, and now it has become someone else’s traveling palace. I sing and dance and make merry within these walls, while my father and brothers were forced to flee their home in haste. My country has been invaded and conquered — and yet I feel no longing to restore it, no hatred for those who did it…”
“Lang Hua…” Feng Qiwu called her name gently, but she — a woman of few words — did not know what to say to guide the person before her through this.
Lang Hua seemed not to hear, her gaze still fixed blankly ahead. “I prided myself on unmatched beauty. I prided myself on wit and cleverness beyond others. I prided myself on martial arts without peer in the world… I always resented Father the King for confining me in this deep palace, not allowing me to display my talents, not allowing my name to spread across the world. I spent my days fantasizing about how to defeat Hua Chunran, how to surpass Feng Xiyun… But today I finally understand how I did not know the height of the sky or the depth of the earth, how utterly I lacked self-awareness, how shortsighted I was, how I vastly overestimated myself…” A self-mocking faint smile drifted across her face. “I had to wait until today to understand that the reason Father the King kept me locked away — no, that was not locking me away — that was protecting me, sheltering me within layer upon layer of these walls like iron ramparts, not letting even the tiniest storm from the outside world touch me… simply because he had long seen through me! He had long seen through how useless I truly am! Surpass Feng Xiyun? Ha… that was nothing but a fantasy beyond foolish reach. I cannot even match the tip of her little finger… I am so useless, I despise myself — and so it is perfectly natural that he should not like me!”
Hearing Lang Hua speak this way, Feng Qiwu felt a sorrow rise in her heart for reasons she could not fully name. That face before her — once so brilliantly vivid and radiant with beauty — was now veiled in bitterness, bewilderment, loss, and helplessness. Within those eyes that had once been innocent and crystal-clear, a mature sorrow had begun to well… She was growing up. Experience — however bitter, however painful — always causes a person to grow. Only her growing pained the heart to witness it. Was that flawless jade orchid flower finally going to wither away?
“Lang Hua.” Feng Qiwu set down the pipa she had been cradling, reached out, and gently took hold of her hands. Those usually cool and distant eyes now shone with a bright and gentle warmth. “You may not have the nation-toppling beauty of Princess Chunran. You may not have the Feng King’s matchless grace and unrivaled talent. But there is something you carry that neither of them will ever possess for their entire lives — something they cannot match in you. So you need not grieve.”
“Me?” Lang Hua’s eyes widened in bewilderment, like a small white rabbit that had lost its way, looking helplessly at the person before her. “What do I have?”
“You only need to smile more, and be lively more, and live each day as you always have. That way, one day you will understand it from someone else’s eyes.” Feng Qiwu raised her hand and gently patted her cheek. “Smile.”
“Ha…” Lang Hua’s face broke into a soft smile — still a little forced, but enough to chase the worry from her expression. The jade orchid flower whose petals had begun to curl in on themselves bloomed open once again.
“See — the moment you smiled, did he not come?” Feng Qiwu suddenly pointed toward the space behind her.
Lang Hua spun around at once. In the distance, the four generals of the Fengyun Cavalry in their silver armor were walking from the front hall, and at a single glance she spotted the exceptionally tall and slender figure walking at the very back. Her heart gave a sudden “thump thump” of rapid beats, her cheeks grew faintly warm without warning, and for no reason she could explain, she quickly turned her head back around, looked at Feng Qiwu, and bowed her head with a slightly bashful smile.
“If you keep being so shy, he is going to walk away.” Feng Qiwu curved the corner of her lips into a faint smile.
“Ah?” Lang Hua spun around in a hurry, and sure enough — the four of them had already nearly rounded the corridor, and in another few steps they would be out of sight. Lang Hua shot to her feet, but her legs felt as though lead had been poured into them and she could not make them move. In her anxious moment, she suddenly saw all four stop. Lin Ji, who stood beside Xiu Jiurong, leaned his head and seemed to say something to him — and then Jiurong turned his head and looked in this direction, and his gaze met Lang Hua’s directly. Lang Hua’s heart, already beating urgently, lurched into an even more frantic rhythm, so insistent she could not help wondering whether he had somehow heard it.
He seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, and then Xiu Jiurong walked toward her. The other three generals stayed where they were, watching after him with smiles on their faces.
With each step that brought Xiu Jiurong closer, Lang Hua’s face — already lovely as crystalline snow — became overlaid with a brilliant, vivid flush of rose-red. Her expressive, luminous eyes now shimmered with swaying, gentle waves, and even Feng Qiwu beside her — herself a rare beauty — could not help but feel a quiet admiration for her radiant charm.
Yet Xiu Jiurong seemed entirely oblivious to the beautiful, flower-like face before him, not responding to it in the slightest. He walked up to Lang Hua, glanced at her once, then bowed his head, face turning red. Yet they all understood — his blush was not because of the beauty of Lang Hua or Feng Qiwu. It was simply that he was shy again.
Before the pavilion, a stillness settled over everything. No one spoke. Lang Hua looked at Xiu Jiurong. Xiu Jiurong looked at the ground. Feng Qiwu’s cold and beautiful face wore the rare expression of someone watching something quietly interesting, as she looked on at the two of them.
After a long silence, Xiu Jiurong finally raised his head and looked at Lang Hua. The flush had not yet faded from his face, but his eyes were steady and clear as they met hers. “Princess Lang Hua.” His voice, too, was steady and even.
“Ah?” Lang Hua had not expected him to call her name. Since the Feng King had bestowed the marriage arrangement upon them, this was the first time they had met alone like this — at least in Lang Hua’s mind, she had automatically erased Feng Qiwu from the scene — and this was also the first time he had called her by name. How could she not be moved?
Xiu Jiurong looked at the woman before him — like morning clouds, so vibrantly lovely — and at those clear and flawless eyes, and that gentle, soft expression carrying within it just a hint of shy longing. A thread of remorse quietly rose in his heart. What a wonderful person she is. Only… His elegant eyes carried within them a hint of tenderness and warmth as they looked at Lang Hua. “Princess, tomorrow Jiurong will be following the king on campaign. The princess need not accompany the army this time — please remain in the palace.”
“Ah?” Lang Hua blinked her eyes, as though not quite understanding what he had said.
“The battlefield is no place for someone like the princess — so please, remain in the palace.” Xiu Jiurong said it once more.
“You want me to stay?” Lang Hua stared at him without blinking.
“This is the wish of both kings.” Xiu Jiurong said.
“And what do you yourself wish — do you want me to go, or to stay?” Lang Hua asked again.
Xiu Jiurong’s refined brows gave a faint twitch at these words. Then he looked at Lang Hua and said plainly, “Jiurong hopes the princess will remain in the palace.”
“Very well — I will stay.” Lang Hua agreed without a moment’s hesitation.
Xiu Jiurong had not expected her to agree so readily, and was momentarily taken aback. But he quickly recovered his composure, bowed his head with gravity, and said, “Please take care of yourself, princess. Jiurong takes his leave.” With that, he turned to go.
“Wait… wait a moment…” Lang Hua blurted out before she could stop herself. When Xiu Jiurong halted and turned back to face her, she found she did not know what to say. “You… will you… will you come back?” After much faltering, she finally managed to get one sentence out.
Xiu Jiurong fixed his gaze steadily on the bashful person before him for a long moment. Within his eyes, beyond the tenderness, something else now quietly surfaced. His gaze drifted down to the string of blue crystal beads on her wrist — the one the Feng King had personally clasped there for her. In the sunlight, it was like a ribbon of flowing pale blue water, or like a string of a lover’s heartbroken tears.
“May the princess give Jiurong a gift?”
“Yes!” Lang Hua answered without even thinking.
“Then — may I have that bracelet?” Xiu Jiurong pointed to the pale blue crystal bracelet on her wrist.
Feng Qiwu, who had been watching in quiet silence, felt something stir in her heart at these words. She looked at Xiu Jiurong, her gaze carrying a deep contemplation.
“Of course!” Lang Hua immediately slipped the bracelet from her wrist and handed it to Xiu Jiurong, then looked at him and said in a low voice, “Then you should give me a gift as well, shouldn’t you?”
Looking at the bracelet in his palm — cool as beads of ice — he closed his fingers gently around it, then raised his eyes to the person before him. “When Jiurong returns, he will give the princess a gift.” Those words were a certainty, and that gaze was earnest.
“Mm.” Lang Hua nodded with great seriousness.
“Jiurong takes his leave.” Xiu Jiurong gave a light nod of his head, then turned and walked away. From beginning to end, he never once glanced at the cold and breathtakingly beautiful Feng Qiwu beside her.
When Xiu Jiurong had walked away, Feng Qiwu stepped closer to Lang Hua, who was still standing in a daze staring after him. “Why did you give him that crystal bracelet? Do you not know — that is the token the Feng King gave as the seal of your betrothal!”
“When you come back, you must give me your sword!” Lang Hua suddenly cried out in a loud voice. The figure ahead had already disappeared around the corner of the hall, and it was impossible to say whether he had heard. But Lang Hua — she only wanted that sword, the very sword that at Ding City had come within a hairsbreadth of taking her life.
“When you come back, you must give me your sword…” Lang Hua murmured quietly under her breath, her gaze at last drawing back and falling to the ground, as though something had dropped away.
“Ah!” Feng Qiwu said nothing more. She reached out and drew the small figure beside her into her arms, her heart filled with a wave of tender fondness. Such a pure and lovable person — if only… if only just now had been nothing more than her own overthinking!
“Elder Sister…” Lang Hua rested her head against Feng Qiwu’s shoulder.
“General Xiu appears on the surface to be too refined and reserved, but in truth he is an exceptionally intelligent and steadfast man.” Feng Qiwu thought of Xiu Jiurong’s final gaze and could not help but sigh quietly. “If he… once he comes back, he will certainly take you as his wife, and you will be very happy…” Only — why had he wanted that bracelet? Why had he singled out the very token the Feng King had given as the seal of the betrothal? She could only hope… that he would come back. As long as he returned, all would be well.
“I don’t know what kind of person he is. But… but when I see him, something aches right here. And if I cannot see him — right here aches even more.” Lang Hua pressed her hand to her chest and murmured softly.
The shoulder beneath her grew damp with warmth — enough to make Feng Qiwu’s heart ache with a quiet, bitter sorrow. But that cold, detached face remained as still and expressionless as ever.
“He will marry you. You will be happy.” She repeated it, a murmured mantra, over and over.
A long while later, Lang Hua raised her head and looked at the woman before her — cold and beautiful as winter plum blossoms. “And what about you, Elder Sister?”
“I… I would be content if I could sing for them for the rest of my life.” Feng Qiwu said quietly.
“Elder Sister…” Lang Hua suddenly wrapped her arms gently around Feng Qiwu.
Feng Qiwu let her hold on, tilted her head back, and looked at the sky. Her eyes held no tears.
On the eighth day of the ninth month, the Feng and Feng armies set out from the Bai capital.
The Mo Yu Cavalry advanced toward Zhen City. The Fengyun Cavalry set out toward Mo City.
Yet the Bai King, unwilling to wait for the Feng army to reach Zhen City, had already led his forces away to Wan City.
On the twelfth day of the ninth month, the Mo Yu Cavalry broke through Zhen City.
On the fourteenth day of the ninth month, the Fengyun Cavalry broke through Mo City.
After taking Zhen City, the Mo Yu Cavalry immediately advanced toward Wan City. At this time, the Bai King had already assembled the armies from Wan City and Juan City, and set out from Wan City directly toward Di City in Wangyu.
On the eighteenth day of the ninth month, the Bai King broke through Di City.
On the nineteenth day of the ninth month, the Mo Yu Cavalry broke through Wan City.
On the twenty-second day of the ninth month, the Mo Yu Cavalry set out from Wan City straight toward Di City. On the same day, the Bai King led his army from Di City and launched an attack on Jin City in Wangyu…
This was a spectacle without precedent in all of history. The Bai King kept seizing city after city in Wangyu, and Shizi Lanxi would arrive in hot pursuit the moment a city had barely been taken — whereupon the Bai King would hurriedly lead his army in retreat, then strike at yet another city in Wangyu, and the city he had just broken through would fall into Shizi Lanxi’s hands…
Many years later, when people spoke again of this stretch of history, they would say: the Bai King was like a hungry wolf, but at his back a fierce tiger — the mightiest beast of all — was relentlessly giving chase, none other than Shizi Lanxi. To avoid becoming prey, the wolf had no choice but to keep running forward, hunting antelope after antelope along the way to restore its strength — yet before he could even finish eating, the tiger would arrive, and he would have to abandon the half-eaten antelope and flee once more… The Bai King kept attacking and fleeing, attacking and fleeing, while Shizi Lanxi kept chasing and claiming, chasing and claiming. The difference in standing between them had long been plain for all to see.
Others likened this stretch of history to a cat playing with a mouse. Shizi Lanxi, who had already commanded the full situation, was toying with that trembling, long-since-terrified mouse — deliberately loosening his grip to let the prey think it could flee. And the Bai King, frantically fleeing with his tail between his legs, understood this perfectly well — yet he had no other option. He could only keep running forward, in desperate hope of seizing the one weapon that could defeat the cat — the Emperor of the imperial capital!
And so every time the Bai King abandoned a city, he took with him all the grain, fodder, and wealth within it, and what could not be carried away he put to the torch, hoping thereby to sever the Feng army’s supply lines. But it was evident that this tactic achieved not the slightest effect. Not only did the Feng army have grain, fodder, and weapons in abundant supply, but upon arriving at each city, they distributed grain to relieve the suffering people and helped the disaster-stricken residents rebuild their homes. The result was simply that Shizi Lanxi’s reputation for benevolence spread farther and wider than ever!
“Does the Bai King not know that even if he flees all the way to Bei Hai, our granaries will still be full to the brim?”
This was how confidently Ren Chuanyun spoke of it. And it was no empty boast — with the wealth accumulated over three hundred years in the Feng royal family’s underground treasury in the Feng Kingdom, enough to match ten Hua Kingdoms, added to the already well-stocked national treasury of the Feng Kingdom, and all that Shizi Lanxi had gathered across a decade of wandering the rivers and lakes.
“That this king was able to take the Feng King as his future queen is a benefit of ninety-nine parts — yet it carries one single disadvantage. And this single one is also the fatal one!”
When Ren Chuanyun said these words, only the four generals of the Mo Yu Cavalry were present. But years later, when historians writing Shizi Lanxi’s biography combed through all available materials, they finally recovered the personal journal of this military advisor who had once served at his side, and so learned of these words. They were truthfully recorded in the annals of history, and the events that later unfolded would prove him right.
While the Mo Yu Cavalry pursued the Bai King, the Fengyun Cavalry swept laterally to seize Yu City, Yuan City, and Juan City. By the end of the ninth month, all three cities that the Bai Kingdom had previously occupied were fully in the Feng King’s hands.
On the fourth day of the tenth month, the Feng King used the pretext that remnant followers of the Bai Kingdom’s fourth prince had fled into Yan City, and dispatched forces to attack. On the same day, Yan City fell.
Beyond Yan City lay the Feng Kingdom’s Liang City. From that point onward, from the Feng Kingdom in the southwest, through the Feng Kingdom, and on northward to the Bai Kingdom — a vast stretch of territory spanning over six thousand li now belonged entirely to the Feng and Feng Kingdoms. Very nearly half of the Dong Chao imperial dominion was now in the hands of Lanxi and Xiyun.
On the other front, the Hua Kingdom’s Jin Yi Cavalry, led by the Huang Kingdom’s generals Shuang and Xue, had already taken six cities in Wangyu. They then joined forces with Huang Yu — who had taken Jian City in the Southern Kingdom — and launched a two-pronged assault on Ze City. The garrison commander of Ze City, Dong Taoye, outnumbered and outmatched, reluctantly led his soldiers in abandoning the city and fleeing. Prior to this, the Hua Kingdom’s third prince had led fifty thousand Jin Yi Cavalry in an assault on Ze City — but was utterly defeated by Dong Taoye, the army nearly annihilated, and all three princes were killed in battle. After Ze City was taken, Qiu Jiushuang and Xiao Xuekong made a brief halt — first to reorganize the remaining Hua Kingdom forces, and second to rest and recuperate. Huang Yu then led his forces to rendezvous with Huang Chao.
By the end of the ninth month, the Huang Kingdom’s Contending Heaven Cavalry, led by Huang Chao and Huang Yu, had taken every city of the Southern Kingdom except for the Southern Capital and Ya City.
In the early days of the tenth month, Huang Chao issued orders for Huang Yu to lead forces in an assault on Ya City, which was defended by the famously valiant Great General Tuoba Hong. Meanwhile, Huang Chao himself would lead forces toward the Southern Capital, determined to take it in one decisive strike and bring the Southern Kingdom entirely into his grasp. But this plan met with opposition.
“Royal Brother, there is no need to hurry in taking the Southern Capital. Please remain in He City to rest and recover from your injuries — once your subject-brother has taken Ya City, together we will bring down the Southern Capital!” Huang Yu urged his elder brother earnestly and respectfully.
After taking Sheng City, Huang Chao had led his forces in pursuit of the Southern Kingdom’s General Ding Xi. While engaged in personal combat with him, the Southern Army secretly unleashed a volley from the Thunder Crossbow unit — a hundred bolts fired all at once. In that dense downpour of crossbow bolts, even with Huang Chao’s peerless martial prowess and the desperate protection of his subordinates, he was still struck in the right chest and left shoulder. The Thunder Crossbow’s penetrating force was nothing like that of ordinary bows and arrows. Those two bolts not only pierced through the armor — they buried themselves deep in the flesh. Had Huang Chao not had a profound inner force to shield his vital organs, any other man would likely have been struck dead on the spot.
Yet when Huang Chao was hit, he did not cease battle or stop to stanch the bleeding and treat his wounds. He fought on until every last one of the Southern soldiers had been driven off, only then ordering the return to Sheng City. Back inside the city, when Yu Wuyuan had dismissed all others, he finally let out a breath and lost consciousness — and by then, his purple armor had become a suit of blood.
On the third day after that, he led his forces to attack Lou City, then Lun City, Yu City… And just yesterday, while sparring with Huang Yu in swordsmanship, he had been unable to block a sword strike from Huang Yu, and collapsed on the spot.
“Huang Chao, your injury has reached the heart and lungs. You need at minimum half a year of careful recuperation — otherwise the long-term consequences will be unmanageable!” Even the usually serene and unflappable Yu Wuyuan was now, for once, deeply solemn.
“I have no time to recuperate!” Huang Chao refused point-blank.
“Royal Brother!” Huang Yu, who had always deferred to his elder brother in all things, could not defer in this. He looked at him with anxious, aching worry. “The Southern Capital can be taken at any time — but your injuries cannot be delayed!”
“This wound is nothing.” Huang Chao rose and paced to the window. The golden light of the sun streamed in through the open window and fell upon his figure, as though the light itself were emanating from him — that silhouette appeared all the more towering and larger than life. “They are nearly at the imperial capital already. How can I fall behind them!”
Behind him, Yu Wuyuan heard these words, and his brows shifted ever so faintly. Looking at the figure standing proudly at the window with his gaze fixed only on the nine heavens, the quiet concern he had long harbored in his heart at last became real in this moment.
“Huang Chao — even if you will not rest for half a year, you must rest for at least half a month. You must understand that you have a body of flesh and blood, not skin of copper and bones of iron!” Yu Wuyuan made one last effort to persuade him. “In half a month, they cannot possibly have the entire world in their grasp.”
“That’s right, Royal Brother — please rest for at least half a month. Within that half month, your subject-brother will certainly take Ya City, and then we will take the Southern Capital together!” Huang Yu promised.
“Half a month — for them, that is more than enough time to take a thousand li of fertile land!” Huang Chao’s voice was low, but utterly resolute. “How can I rest and recuperate while they are still running forward? Changmang Shan — I must go there!”
In that moment, Huang Yu looked at his royal brother and felt a desperate, urgent longing radiating from his very being. Yet in that same moment, he could not tell whether his royal brother’s longing was for taking this world into his hands as quickly as possible — or for meeting his rivals face to face as quickly as possible.
“Huang Chao — you cannot always look only forward. You cannot always run only ahead. Sometimes you should stop your feet and look backward, look to the left and right.” Yu Wuyuan’s voice was very soft. Those eyes, usually calm and untroubled, now carried within them the helplessness and worry of one who seems to have seen the shape of fate and yet cannot halt it, as they looked at Huang Chao.
“You are at my back. My brothers are at my left and right — as are Xuekong and Jiushuang. I need not look back.” Huang Chao did not turn around. The quiet worry in Yu Wuyuan’s words, he heard it clearly — but he could not stop. “I only need to go forward. With my greatest speed and my greatest force, to run to the foremost and highest place, and meet with them there — then take this world in my hands!”
Those words were absolutely, irrevocably fixed. No one spoke further. Huang Yu only looked at his royal brother in silent heartache, then shifted his imploring gaze to Yu Wuyuan.
The last sound to rise within the room was Yu Wuyuan’s long and heavy sigh.