At Penglai Hall, the Empress Dowager looked at the young man who was bowing respectfully to her and nodded with a smile.

When she had made way for him outside the city that day, she hadn’t been wrong about him. Though this young man had once strayed, he fortunately found his way back.

The Empress Dowager rested one hand on her dragon-headed cane and held Buddhist prayer beads in the other. “You are now a great meritorious official of the Great Xuan, holding the highest position a subject can have. What brings you to this old woman?”

Wenren Lin rose and spoke with great seriousness: “I wish to use the achievements of my remaining life to ask the Empress Dowager for one thing.”

“Oh? What thing?”

“A matchmaking imperial decree.”

The Empress Dowager raised her eyelids slightly, feigning ignorance though she understood: “You want me to bestow some noble lady upon you as a wife, as a reward?”

“The Empress Dowager is mistaken. It is not as a reward, but rather a request to marry.”

Wenren Lin’s voice was deep and clear, his manner perfectly poised. “I have fallen in love with Princess Changfeng, Zhao Yān. Today, I offer myself as betrothal and sincerely ask for her hand. From now on, if she retreats, I will be her shield; if she advances, I will be the blade in her hand. I swear by the sun and moon, unchanging until death.”

Zhao Yān was standing outside the hall door. Hearing these words, she couldn’t help but smile.

…

…

Wenren Lin rarely made promises. Precisely because of this, these words were all the more precious.

The Emperor had lost the people’s hearts and retreated to Changsheng Palace. Now, in both the court and the inner palace, the Empress Dowager held the greatest authority.

Zhao Yān knew well that with Wenren Lin’s power and methods, marrying her would be a matter of just one word. His special audience with the Empress Dowager today was simply to ensure all proprieties were observed and to receive the blessings of family and friends—he couldn’t bear for her to suffer any slight.

The Empress Dowager neither confirmed nor denied, looking toward the young woman peering through the hall door: “Changfeng, what do you think? For a man, speaking well is not enough. You’ve always been one to think for yourself, so carefully discern this for yourself.”

Zhao Yān walked in gracefully, standing beside Wenren Lin. She performed a deep curtsy to the Empress Dowager, whose silver hair was combed neatly and shone with oil.

“Grandmother, Wenren Shao Yuan has always kept his word. If he promises one part, he will deliver ten—he does not speak eloquently with no substance.”

She glanced at the smiling Wenren Lin, her eyes bright and lively. Then she changed her tone, breaking into a smile. “Of course, Grandmother has shown me great kindness in raising me. You are the elder I respect most, and your granddaughter’s judgment of character still requires your approval.”

The Empress Dowager was amused by her sweet words.

“You speak cleverly. In one breath, you affirm his character; in another, you say he is your chosen one; and thirdly, you elevate this old woman to a high position—addressing three points at once, quite skillful.”

The Empress Dowager shook her head, her face kind and her eyes gentle. “However, a princess’s marriage is a major affair that cannot be handled carelessly. I must first consult the Empress and the court. If it may proceed, it must be submitted to the Ministry of Rites and the Court of Imperial Sacrifices for discussion, completing the Three Letters and Six Rites before setting a betrothal date.”

Wenren Lin did not seem satisfied as he took his leave, but instead spoke evenly: “This subject and Princess Changfeng… have developed feelings over time. The betrothal gifts and formal proposal can be simplified, and though the wedding date can be postponed, would it not be better to first proceed with the engagement?”

The Empress Dowager feigned sternness: “What’s this? Are you impatient with the length of time? So young, and yet you cannot wait even this short while.”

Wenren Lin smiled, breaking the ice as he looked at Zhao Yān beside him: “Yes, I love her to the bone and cannot wait any longer.”

The Empress Dowager examined the handsome couple before her, finding herself increasingly pleased. Even if she wanted to make things difficult for Wenren Lin, she couldn’t find a reason.

She sighed softly, tapping her cane: “Come here.”

Zhao Yān subtly nudged Wenren Lin’s arm with her elbow: “Half a year is just half a year. Speak well with Grandmother.”

Wenren Lin discreetly squeezed Zhao Yān’s little finger and slowly walked forward to stand before the Empress Dowager.

Wenren Lin was tall, while the Empress Dowager was seventy years old. Looking up at him was quite difficult for her. Wenren Lin voluntarily bent down, lowering his height.

The Empress Dowager examined him for a long time. Zhao Yān unconsciously pinched the edge of her sleeve, worried that her grandmother might scold him.

But the Empress Dowager merely slowly removed the string of bodhi beads from her hand and, in front of her granddaughter, placed them in Wenren Lin’s palm.

“This string of bodhi beads and the previous white jade prayer beads were a pair that has accompanied me for most of my life. I gave the white jade string to Changfeng when the Yuquan Palace incident occurred. This string I now give to you.”

The Empress Dowager said, “You are a clever man. I need not say much else. You know how to treat her, don’t you?”

The old lady was entrusting these prayer beads, which had accumulated half a lifetime of her devotion and good wishes, to these young people, one to each, naturally hoping for their safety, health, and togetherness until old age.

Wenren Lin lowered his eyelids and said gently: “This subject understands.”

“Very good.”

The Empress Dowager, satisfied, waved her hand to indicate they should withdraw.

Zhao Yān and Wenren Lin respectfully bowed and took their leave.

As soon as they left the hall, Zhao Yān’s steps became lighter. She walked backward with her hands behind her back, asking Wenren Lin, “Why do you find even half a year’s betrothal period too long? I was afraid Grandmother would scold you for being disrespectful.”

Dense flower shadows passed over her, making her smiling eyes alternately bright and dim, containing flickering light.

Wenren Lin raised his hand to brush away branches growing overhead, his tone composed and unruffled: “One month would suffice.”

“One month? Enough for you to prepare all the betrothal gifts?”

“If Your Highness requires, they could be delivered to your bedchamber tonight, though I’m not sure if your quarters can hold them all.”

He deliberately slowed his tone, and Zhao Yān suddenly remembered her earlier statement that “chastity should be a man’s best betrothal gift.” Her cheeks grew hot.

She glared at Wenren Lin: “What are you thinking?”

“Since realizing my feelings for Your Highness, I have been selecting various betrothal gifts, preparing for half a year. They are mostly ready, and will certainly not let Your Highness lose face.”

Wenren Lin seemed to understand something, the smile in his eyes deepening. “What did Your Highness think my ‘betrothal gift’ referred to?”

“…”

To make matters worse, Wenren Lin added fuel to the fire: “Yān Yān has truly grown up and thinks more deeply now. If needed, I can also earnestly employ other ‘betrothal gifts.'”

“You’ve gone too far!” Zhao Yān covered her ears and turned away, her skirt swirling in rippling arcs. She didn’t want to deal with this man full of dark schemes.

Wenren Lin laughed softly behind her, low and joyful.

He reached out to pull down Zhao Yān’s hands from her ears, gently interlocking their fingers, and walked alongside her: “It’s my fault. When I see the one I love, I can’t help but tease them.”

Zhao Yān snorted coolly, rubbing her burning ears.

Sunlight filtered through gaps in the flowers, scattering spots of light on the ground. Everything felt like a dream.

Zhao Yān couldn’t help but reach out, catching the fragments of light, letting the bright, warm colors dance on her fingertips.

“Wenren Shao Yuan, why are you in such a hurry to get engaged?”

“What do you think?”

“You’re afraid I’ll change my mind.”

Zhao Yān said teasingly, “I am still young, while you are at the age of establishing a family and career. You fear that someday I might not want you anymore.”

Wenren Lin’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to look at her: “Your Highness is perceptive.”

Though meant as a jest, she didn’t expect him to agree.

Zhao Yān blinked and asked: “Is that so?”

Wenren Lin again showed that seemingly calm yet unfathomable expression. He reached out to cover Zhao Yān’s tilted head, gently turning it to face forward.

“Your Highness must give me proper status.”

He said softly, “Let’s get engaged next month, lest those cats and dogs cross boundaries and crowd around Your Highness. As for the wedding date, there’s no rush. If Your Highness wants to play for two more years, I’ll wait for two years.”

Zhao Yān began to laugh.

It wasn’t until the first day that Zhao Yān understood why Wenren Lin had chosen to get engaged the following month.

That night, urgent funeral bells rang through the palace. The Emperor had passed away.

The coffin rested in Taiji Hall, with ministers and imperial clan members kneeling silently outside. Apart from the occasional spring breeze and the sound of sutras being chanted for the departed soul, there was no noise at all.

Beneath the calm surface, undercurrents surged.

In his youth, the late Emperor had governed diligently and had even created a brief golden age. But after just a few years, he became obsessed with Daoist arts, placing his trust in the Shenguang Religion, allowing elixirs to damage his mind and squandering the foundation he had worked so hard to build. He also bore the sin of causing the needless deaths of a hundred thousand soldiers, and ultimately died from golden elixir poisoning without even leaving an imperial edict.

Consort Xu and the only little prince did not come to mourn or view the body. But there are no walls that don’t let wind through, and a very few well-informed ministers had already guessed that before his death, the late Emperor had conducted a blood test, suggesting there might be some issue with the little prince’s parentage…

A lifetime amounts to nothing more than an inscribed stone tablet and a grave covered with a handful of earth. The most ironic things in the world were: the man who desperately wanted a son found out the child wasn’t his; the man obsessed with seeking immortality died from golden elixir poisoning.

Thus, who would succeed to the throne became the focus of debate throughout the court.

The court ministers all advocated selecting a virtuous ruler from the imperial clan, forming two factions.

Those ministers who supported reform advocated for supporting the young Prince of Yingchuan, Zhao Baiwei, who had just inherited his grandfather’s title. They reasoned that he was young and talented, able to inject vitality into the weary court. The moderates, led by Left Prime Minister Li Kexing, advocated for the Prince of Nanchuan, who was over sixty, to ascend the throne, reasoning that he was virtuous, respected, and experienced.

A small number of border leaders and Buddhist temples advocated for Princess Changfeng Zhao Yān to take the position, creating intense debate within the court.

At the end of March, the young Prince of Yingchuan’s carriage suddenly lost control and plunged into the Lotus Pond. Fortunately, the young prince knew how to swim and narrowly escaped disaster.

People began to speculate and analyze deeply, believing that the young prince’s fall into the water must have been someone’s deliberate act.

But the Prince of Nanchuan had neither power nor influence, being merely a wealthy, idle man who certainly wouldn’t stoop to harming a younger relative. So, who else would take such action?

After much speculation, suspicion quietly turned toward the capable Princess Changfeng Zhao Yān. After all, standing behind her skirts was Prince Su Wenren Lin, who stood above ten thousand men.

While people imagined a bloody “power struggle,” in reality, the two who were supposedly killing each other were avoiding the crowd, hiding in a waterside pavilion, drinking tea and chatting leisurely, perfectly at peace.

Zhao Yān wore plain hemp mourning clothes, her wrists as white as snow, her face naturally clean and pure, revealing an unadorned beauty and vivacity.

“The tearmark by your eye—how long do you plan to keep it?” asked Liu Baiwei.

Liu Baiwei, clad in mourning attire for both country and family, lifted the white cord at his waist and sat across from her at the round table, examining the tearmark by Zhao Yān’s eye that didn’t belong to her.

“Hmm, I don’t plan to remove this little mark. Let it see the mortal world on behalf of Zhao Yǎn.”

Zhao Yān unconsciously touched the corner of her eye, then asked, “By the way, how are you? Choking on water is no small matter; don’t let it develop into a chronic condition.”

“It’s nothing. That mad woman couldn’t bear to see me gain power and wanted to drag me down with her.”

The “mad woman” Liu Baiwei referred to was the one who had driven his mother to death—his nominal stepmother, the Consort of the Prince of Yingchuan, Lady Chen.

“If needed, I can go to court and clearly explain that my falling into the water had absolutely nothing to do with Your Highness.”

“What is there to explain? The more you care about such rumors, the more they’ll seize upon your words and make a bigger issue of it.”

“It was a private feud within the Prince’s mansion. How dare they splash dirty water on you?”

Liu Baiwei frowned. “I say, back then at Yuquan Palace, Your Highness shouldn’t have saved Li Kexing. Li’s faction is using my falling into the water to make a big scene, killing two birds with one stone, merely paving the way for the Prince of Nanchuan.”

Zhao Yān recalled how Li Kexing had formally apologized to her with clasped sleeves before everyone at the Taiji Gate earlier, and smiled: “He was trapped for the sake of the Great Xuan. I saved him to fulfill my sense of righteousness. Besides, the Left Prime Minister Li clearly distinguishes between public and private matters and has strong principles regarding state affairs. If he were to favor me due to a small debt of gratitude, I would be concerned about him holding the chief position among civil officials.”

“Although the Prince of Nanchuan is one of the few upright members of the imperial clan, his sons below him are unruly, and he’s at an age where half his body is already in the grave. It’s questionable whether he can control the court. Does Your Highness truly intend to let him take the throne?”

Hearing this, Zhao Yān glanced at the young man silhouetted against the rippling water and asked, resting her chin on her hand: “Don’t you want to be Emperor?”

Liu Baiwei’s phoenix eyes widened slightly, and he raised his eyebrows in irritation: “Your Highness has risked life and death, and I would be taking advantage to ascend the throne. What kind of person would that make me, Liu Baiwei? Wouldn’t that make me a bastard?! Besides, although I have ambitions, I have no desire for power. I wouldn’t be Emperor, even if it were the Heavenly Emperor of the Ninth Heaven.”

He still had that straightforward temperament, ready to argue at the slightest provocation.

Zhao Yān laughed until she nearly fell over: “I was just asking casually. After all, you’ve been with me all along. Rather than choosing someone else, I would rather trust you.”

“Your Highness has become tainted by association and has learned to harm people.”

Liu Baiwei snorted coldly, angrily sitting down to drink a sip of tea.

After calming down, he lowered his head and gripped the teacup tightly.

“Has Your Highness never thought about sitting in that position yourself? Those Buddhist temples all say…”

“Don’t you know why they support me?”

Zhao Yān smiled faintly, her insight clear. “They want to become the next Shenguang Religion. If I rely on their power, after the demon priests come the demon monks. How could the Great Xuan be saved then?”

Liu Baiwei was left speechless.

Spring had not diminished due to the national mourning; rather, it flourished even more vigorously.

Liu Baiwei had just left when Zhao Yān heard familiar, slow footsteps approaching from the pier behind her.

“Your Highness doesn’t wish to ascend to power?”

Wenren Lin’s calm voice came as he sat down, lifting his robe. “As long as Your Highness wishes, I can make it happen.”

Zhao Yān nodded, then gently shook her head: “I was once someone who disliked trouble, only wanting to live freely. But later, I wanted to have a voice, to light a lamp to illuminate three feet of darkness, to speak out against injustice. But I never thought of sitting in that position because I know being an emperor is entirely different from being a crown prince. What one bears on one’s shoulders is no longer personal pleasure but the welfare of all under heaven. The world is not yet tolerant of women, and steps taken too quickly might be counterproductive. I have no experience in personal governance, don’t know how to employ people, or balance the court. Those classics, histories, and philosophical works I read in the Eastern Palace were merely theoretical, far from sufficient to withstand the whirlpools of court politics. I even…”

She paused, saying quietly: “I even somewhat fear the position on the imperial throne. It seems that whoever sits there, over the years and months, becomes unrecognizable.”

Wenren Lin could sense that she was speaking from the deepest, most genuine conflict and confusion in her heart.

Some people only see the power to command with a wave of the hand, while others see the devastation within.

“Being a muddle-headed ruler is an indulgent pleasure. But to be a wise ruler is indeed difficult.”

Wenren Lin touched her trembling eyelashes with his finger and said methodically: “Why don’t I have someone tie up that surnamed Liu fellow, force him onto the dragon throne, and compel him to undergo the enthronement ceremony?”

He spoke with a serious air about treasonous matters, and Zhao Yān couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

As she laughed, her gaze became more determined: “I once said during the court interrogation that I didn’t want women in the world to be bound by heavier shackles, so I had to stand up. You see, one really shouldn’t make grand statements casually; you never know when they might come true.”

If propriety did not allow women, then let it begin with her.

But it must be done in another way—neither relying on the power of spirits, ghosts, or Buddhism, lest the Great Xuan produce another Shenguang Religion, nor creating warfare and strife, but making the people sincerely convinced and willing.

Wenren Lin looked at her proud, clear-eyed gaze, feeling a long-absent surge of heat in his heart, burning and swelling.

Having been the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor for over a year, he didn’t want to describe Zhao Yān as “surpassing her teacher.” It was more like he had been fortunate enough to find a rare pearl, which, with just a little polishing, radiated dazzling brilliance.

Wenren Lin’s eyes rippled with deep smiles as he pressed his finger to his temple: “If Your Highness wants power in hand without being reproached, there is a third option.”

“A third option?”

Zhao Yān was stunned for only a moment before quickly realizing: “You mean the little prince?”

But this child was not of imperial blood…

Zhao Yān paused—it was even more ironic that he wasn’t of imperial lineage.

Very few people in the court knew the little prince’s true identity, and even if they had heard rumors, there was no concrete evidence. Moreover, this infant was only a hundred days old, far from the age of enlightenment and adulthood. There were enough years for Zhao Yān to re-select and cultivate a virtuous and upright heir, or to establish the precedent of a woman taking the throne…

However, using an innocent infant as a stepping stone made Zhao Yān’s heart ache with reluctance.

“The Emperor…”

Wenren Lin frowned, changing his words indifferently: “The late Emperor verified the blood before his death. This infant, frightened, had a high fever for several days. According to palace rules, he was to be secretly disposed of along with Consort Xu. If Your Highness uses him, it would save his life. The years until he comes of age would be enough for Your Highness to think clearly about the next step. Whatever Your Highness ultimately chooses, this subject will fully support.”

Zhao Yān knew he was trying to comfort her and couldn’t help but burst into laughter: “No matter what I do, you’ll support me?”

“If Your Highness is thirsty, I offer water; if Your Highness retires to bed, I recommend a pillow.”

“If I want to kill someone, will you hand me a knife?” Zhao Yān asked, following his line of thought.

Wenren Lin raised his eyelids slightly, his gaze profound: “No need.”

Zhao Yān felt he finally had some of the dignity of a worthy minister and capable general, and was just feeling pleased when she heard that deep voice continue: “I will kill for Your Highness personally.”

Zhao Yān looked up in surprise, saw the half-serious, half-joking mischief in his eyes, and realized he was teasing her again.

“Wenren Shao Yuan, you’re becoming more and more like a bewitching consort who brings ruin to the country.”

A gentle breeze came, rippling the water, bringing a hint of damp coolness.

Zhao Yān felt relieved. She pushed herself up from the round table and looked into Wenren Lin’s eyes: “I want not only your indulgence but also your guidance. There is still much I have not mastered, and I ask for your continued instruction in the future, Grand Tutor.”

In response came the man’s familiar, smiling words: “The Grand Tutor accepts the command.”

On April 18th, the late Emperor’s coffin was carried out for burial.

The Empress Dowager and Empress drafted an imperial decree, ending the half-month dispute over legitimate succession.

Because the little prince was only three months old, too young and ill, the enthronement ceremony would be postponed. Princess Imperial Zhao Yān would act as regent.

But what kind of emperor was a small infant who had not been enthroned?

Although some court officials questioned the little prince’s unclear origins, they were suppressed due to a lack of evidence.

In the end, even Li Kexing tacitly accepted Princess Changfeng’s regency. After all, the Prince of Nanchuan was truly aged and frail. Having a figurehead on the throne was better than leaving it vacant and causing unrest throughout the realm. Princess Changfeng’s abilities were evident to all, and her regency was not considered usurpation. As for the future, that could be discussed later.

Seeing the Left Prime Minister Li take the lead in acknowledging this, the other ministers also ceased their objections.

The next day, the Zichen Hall was brilliantly lit, awaiting the Great Xuan Dynasty’s first regent, Princess Imperial.

Zhao Yān, dressed in a crimson-purple ceremonial robe with wide sleeves, stood before the hall steps with palace attendants behind her like clouds. Looking at the figures moving in the hall, she took a deep breath.

Wenren Lin, in a dark robe, extended his arm, naturally taking hold of the young woman’s white porcelain-like fingertips. He said gently, “Don’t be afraid. Walk forward.”

The familiar, steady words inexplicably calmed one’s heart.

Zhao Yān smiled in return, concentrated, straightened her back, and strode into the great hall with the morning sunlight.

The civil and military officials automatically lined up on both sides. This time, what awaited her was not a unanimous accusation but a uniform kneeling: “We officials pay respects to the Regent Princess Imperial, Nine Thousand Years!”

…

At the end of April, as soon as the mourning ceremonies were over, news of the engagement between the Regent Princess Imperial and Prince Su spread rapidly.

The Regent Princess Imperial, filial and benevolent, voluntarily proposed “three years of mourning,” postponing the grand wedding ceremony until after that period. Prince Su said only one thing: “Whatever Yān Yān wishes.”

After several bright spring rains, the spring red gradually receded, and the greenery grew thick.

Just after the spring examinations, Mingde Academy welcomed a large batch of talented scholars from humble backgrounds who gathered in high spirits to prepare for next year’s palace examination, creating quite a lively scene.

They curiously examined the largest academy in the capital. As they entered through the main gate, they saw a striking line of large characters inscribed on the screen wall ahead.

Everyone entering this place did not first pay homage to the statue of Confucius but instead recited these words:

“In this life, I wish to be like the moth to the flame at night, though I die, I face toward the light!”

The newly admitted scholars finished reciting loudly, the echoes lingering.

Among them, a young man carrying a half-worn book box, unable to conceal his emotion, raised his hand and asked: “Senior, these words inscribed at the entrance—are they a maxim from some sage or great scholar?”

“Not a sage, nor a great scholar, but the late Crown Prince.”

Everyone fell silent, involuntarily showing solemn respect before the inscribed words on the screen wall, folding their sleeves and bowing deeply.

On the reverse side of the screen wall were densely carved inscriptions of thousands of characters. Looking closely, it was a reform proposal.

Many of the signatories on the proposal were no longer in this world. Only these vast, ocean-like, magnificent words quietly watched batch after batch of succeeding students, encouraging them not to lose their original hearts and to establish a legacy for the people.

In silence, the young faces stood there for a long time before spontaneously standing straight and then performing a solemn bow.

At the chess tower, incense mist curled upward, the bamboo blinds half-raised.

Liu Baiwei sat by the window with one leg raised, playing chess with Zhou Ji.

“You’ve seemed unhappy these past couple of days.”

Liu Baiwei listlessly placed a piece down with a clack. “Why not tell me about it? Give me something to laugh about.”

Zhou Ji frowned slightly: “I am not displeased.”

“Still saying you’re not? Your brows have been furrowed the whole time, and when I talk to you, you seem lost in another world.”

“Perhaps I haven’t rested well these past days and am somewhat tired.”

“That can’t be. Even when the Princess was about to be escorted to court for questioning, you stayed up for two nights without sleep, and I never saw you this quiet and dull.”

Liu Baiwei clearly didn’t believe him and tapped the chess board, asking: “These past days, has nothing happened that really bothers you?”

Hearing this, Zhou Ji’s hand on the chessboard paused slightly. After a long while, he said, “Princess Changfeng is getting engaged.”

“What?”

Liu Baiwei nearly stumbled, astonished: “You mind this?”

Zhou Ji was silent for a long time again before musing: “I just don’t quite understand…”

“Don’t understand what?”

“…”

Zhou Ji’s brows knitted even tighter, and he had to press his fingertips to his brow, seemingly perplexed.

“You care for her.”

Liu Baiwei looked at him coldly, cutting to the heart of the matter. “Not only is your eyesight poor, but you’re also this slow? Can’t you see your feelings?”

Zhou Ji looked up, first bewildered, then, after a while, showing a look of understanding.

The girl’s face he had recognized at first glance in the crowd, the comfortable peace he felt when conversing with her—everything was traceable, and all seemed to have found an answer.

“I think I do indeed care for her,” Zhou Ji nodded.

“That’s it?”

Liu Baiwei was so confused by his reaction that he began to doubt himself. He stood up and slapped the chessboard, causing the black and white pieces to rattle. “Don’t you want to do something about it?”

“Do what?”

“Like… like, don’t you want to let her know your feelings? Are you content to hand her over to another man?”

Zhou Ji looked at him with calm, pale eyes and said coolly: “I will not trouble her, nor will I humiliate myself.”

Liu Baiwei’s shoulders trembled, and there was a clear ringing in his mind.

After a long while, he sat back down dejectedly, laughing self-mockingly: “I’ve always known it was my unwillingness to accept it. I’m not even as clear-headed as you. Forget it, let’s continue our game… tsk, the pieces are all messed up, let’s start over.”

“You lost,” said Zhou Ji.

“I did not,” Liu Baiwei objected.

“If you hadn’t deliberately scattered the pieces just now, you would have lost in the next move,” Zhou Ji insisted.

“…”

Liu Baiwei was furious with embarrassment, grinding his teeth: “Zhou Wanlan, you’re annoying. I take back what I said earlier—no wonder Zhao Yān doesn’t like you!”

“…”

Zhou Ji remained silent, turning his gaze toward the window.

The Mirroring Tower had changed its signboard to “Lantern Tower,” with lamps under the eaves that burned constantly, keeping it bright.

…

Western Mountains, where birds returned to the forest.

The wind blew down two maple leaves. At a solitary grave with luxuriant green grass, Zhao Yān, dressed in her once-favorite pomegranate-colored gauze skirt, offered incense and bowed. The golden hairpin in her hair gleamed brightly.

“Zhao Yǎn, I’ve become the Regent Princess Imperial and have moved back to live in the vacant Eastern Palace.”

“I’ve appointed two scholars from Mingde Academy as auxiliary academicians in the Hanlin Academy. Wang Yu has also returned. Next spring, I will begin to implement land clearance and tax reform.”

“Also, Wenren Lin and I are engaged. Unfortunately, I will never see what you look like when you get engaged.”

“Have you seen Chou Zui? I did my utmost to sew his severed arm back together, but the right side of his face could not be restored. I wonder if he looks any better now that he has seen you.”

“…You can rest peacefully now, brother.”

The wind blew across the grass, as if someone were whispering gently.

Before the unmarked tombstone lay a broken dagger and a lotus jade pendant with a cracked corner.

Zhao Yān stood for a while longer until the setting sun was about to disappear before turning to walk down the small path.

The mountains were dark like eyebrows, and the imperial city towered majestically. On the grassy slope ahead, a person and a horse stood waiting for her return.

“All done?”

Wenren Lin extended his arm, grasping the fingertips she offered.

“Yes, let’s go,” Zhao Yān smiled.

She mounted the horse, and as she gripped the reins, she paused slightly and looked back.

The wind swept over the tops of the maple trees. For a moment, she seemed to see the figure of a young man in apricot white smiling and waving to her. Behind him stood a scholar with folded sleeves, a silent shadow, and a tall assassin wearing a worn straw hat, silent and quiet…

A hundred thousand heroic spirits, treading in the vast slanting sunlight.

Zhao Yān’s lips curved upward as she turned her head. Wenren Lin’s broad chest pressed against her from behind, his hands reaching past her slender waist to grasp the reins.

With a flick of the whip, the steed carried them galloping away.

In the sunset, the shadows of two people merged into one, sweeping along the homeward path.

The living are but passing guests, the dead have returned home. Heaven and earth are merely a temporary lodge, all sharing the sorrow of eternal dust.¹

All departed souls will bloom brilliantly in the next world.

(Main Story Conclusion)

¹ A reference to a poem by Li Bai, reflecting on the transience of life.