Liu Wenji arrived at the Northern Imperial Guard camp in Chang’an in his capacity as Imperial Inspector.

The Prince of Qin had been punished with facing the wall in contemplation, and the Crown Prince had taken control of part of the Imperial Guard. Thus, the Emperor sent eunuchs as Imperial Inspectors to examine the Guard’s condition.

Liu Wenji obtained this assignment thanks to his master Cheng An. He had spent nearly all his savings from half a year of palace service to secure this opportunity to leave the palace and inspect the troops. Before his departure, Cheng An reminded Liu Wenji that the Emperor likely intended to reorganize the Imperial Guard while the Prince of Qin was in confinement. If Liu Wenji wished to distinguish himself, he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

After serving in the imperial presence for several months, Liu Wenji had discerned that the old Emperor liked to play forces against each other.

In the eyes of the world, the reorganization of the Imperial Guard appeared to be a victory for the Crown Prince over the Prince of Qin; few considered that this might have been the Emperor’s intention all along.

Dark clouds blanketed the sky. At the northern camp outside the city, several commanders greeted the eunuch delegation led by Liu Wenji with perfunctory respect, showing little genuine regard.

Liu Wenji was accustomed to others’ mockery and derision, having learned of the world’s contempt for palace servants during his time at the Hanlin Academy. His heart had grown numb to such treatment, so the commanders’ cold attitudes didn’t trouble him. Liu Wenji only concentrated on how to complete this assignment quickly and report back.

However, the eunuchs accompanying Liu Wenji were infuriated at being looked down upon, their faces twisting with anger. They were used to serving the imperial family in the palace – how dare these rough men treat them with such disdain?

They tried stirring up trouble in front of Liu Wenji, and when he ignored them, they devised a plan. Several eunuchs deliberately provoked some officers, plying them with wine at lunch. Then they led Liu Wenji over to hear what the drunken military men were saying about them—

“They’re just a bunch of eunuchs! What, would His Majesty behead us because of a few eunuchs?”

“His Majesty sent eunuchs to inspect the army! Ridiculous! What do eunuchs know about military matters? Do they understand what we do? Especially that Liu Wenji… nothing but a dog raised by the Chief Eunuch, yet he dares put on airs with us!”

“When we’re killing people, these eunuchs would probably piss themselves in fear! Oh right, can they even piss anymore? Hahaha…”

Liu Wenji stood outside the tent, listening to the crude talk within. The eunuchs who had brought him there watched his expression. When Liu Wenji suddenly raised his eyes to look at them, a flash of dark murderous intent crossed his gaze before vanishing into icy coldness. Liu Wenji turned and left, ignoring the even cruder insults from inside.

It was nothing more than contempt.

Nothing more than humiliation.

The injustice of fate pressed down like the heavy clouds above. The path ahead was treacherous, the journey difficult. Liu Wenji walked faster and faster, his expression changing from initial gloom to increasing calmness. The killing intent remained hidden in his heart, no longer visible—

Under the overcast sky, tree shadows covered the ground. The small flowers in the trees bloomed hazily at the transition between spring and summer, like a thin mist.

At the Wei residence, Princess Zhao Lingfei jumped down from the wall. She had intended to take a small path but unexpectedly found Wei Shu standing under a tree, gazing absently at the leaves above.

The leaves and light fell upon him in overlapping patterns like seaweed, bright as snow.

Zhao Lingfei’s eyes met Wei Shu’s dark ones, her face reddening first with embarrassment. After all, being caught by the owner while sneaking over the wall was quite awkward.

However, since Wei Shu didn’t speak, Zhao Lingfei brazenly acted as if nothing had happened. She jumped down from the wall, dusted off her hands, and explained naturally: “I went home and found my father has started exchanging marriage cards, really intending to marry me off to that old man. I argued with him in anger and ran away again.”

Wei Shu remained silent.

Zhao Lingfei lowered her head, kicking at the flowers by her feet: “Hey, but why are you at home? Shouldn’t you be working at the government office?”

Wei Shu answered: “I’ve been warned by the Censorate to rest at home starting today. I await further notice about when to return to work.”

Zhao Lingfei’s eyes widened in indignation: “Why?! What wrong did you commit for the court to treat you this way?”

The youth’s face was pure as snow, quiet and detached. Zhao Lingfei stared at him for a long while before sudden realization struck: “Is it because… did you refuse to betroth yourself to Princess Danyang? Did the Wei family say something to your superiors? Are they threatening you?”

Wei Shu lowered his eyes.

The Li family and Wei family wanted to cooperate, and his marriage to Mu Wanyao was key to their plans. The will of the mundane world pressed down on him, forcing him to submit, again and again.

He was merely a concubine’s son of the Wei family, merely a tool in the hands of the Wei and Li families. He was expected to do whatever they required of him, and once he made a mistake, he would be discarded.

But was this truly his fate? He had run away from the Wei family at fourteen, entered government service at fifteen, and was now sixteen… Could he still not escape this destiny?—

In the Prince of Jin’s residence, Chunhua turned to look toward Yan Shang beyond the screen.

Yan Shang’s voice trembled with emotion; she couldn’t ignore it. This was the first time Yan Shang had ever begged her for anything, so humble and powerless… Chunhua looked on in silence for a long while before saying softly: “Her Highness wouldn’t want me to tell you. She especially wouldn’t want you to know, wouldn’t want your pity.”

Yan Shang replied sadly: “I know, that’s why I never asked. But knowing these things isn’t about humiliating her. Too many obstacles stand between us – only by understanding the past can I know what to do. This is about respect, not pity.”

“I might help someone out of sympathy and compassion, but I wouldn’t love someone for those reasons. I know what I’m doing.”

Time couldn’t be delayed – if they waited much longer, the Prince of Jin might return.

After a long pause, Chunhua spoke quietly: “Then you must promise me that you’ll find an opportunity to tell Her Highness about this conversation. Don’t deceive her. If I have a chance to see Her Highness later, I won’t hide today’s events either. I’m telling you these things because I trust your character, Young Master Yan. If after knowing all this you choose to leave Her Highness, I’ll have nothing more to say. But Her Highness is not at fault – you cannot blame her!”

Yan Shang replied softly: “I would never blame her.”

Chunhua remained silent for a long time.

Through the screen, Yan Shang heard her voice, slow and lifeless: “Her Highness’s coming-of-age ceremony at fifteen was held during our journey to the marriage alliance. Back then, we only thought the Wuman were primitive and barbaric. Her Highness was full of confidence, wanting to teach culture to a group of savages.”

“At that time, Her Highness’s most capable personal maid wasn’t me, but an elder sister called Nonghua. Nonghua was older than all of us and protected Her Highness like a sister. I was even jealous of Nonghua then, wondering when I could be like Sister Nonghua…”

“Nonghua was unique – we were all named after the four seasons, only Nonghua was different. But Nonghua died forever in Wuman territory. She was the first of us to die…”—

Dark clouds loomed overhead, following even far from Chang’an.

Mu Wanyao sat in her carriage, hand propping up her chin, eyes closed. As the carriage swayed, the ornamental tassel in her hair gently tapped against her forehead. The red jewel in the tassel cast a brilliant light on her features, making her complexion appear snow-white.

Fang Tong knocked on the carriage wall from outside: “Your Highness, it seems it’s going to rain. Should we stop early and rest at an inn today?”

The lady in the carriage didn’t answer.

Fang Tong was used to the princess’s occasional strange moods and didn’t disturb her further. Instead, she instructed the guards: “Hurry along, let’s cover more ground. Since Her Highness doesn’t wish to rest here, let’s try to reach the next post station before dark.”

The carriages quickened their pace, fearing being caught in the impending storm.

Inside the carriage, Mu Wanyao slept with closed eyes, not hearing Fang Tong’s inquiries. She was lost in an absurd dream that she didn’t want to wake from…—

In the Prince of Jin’s residence, Chunhua was telling Yan Shang a long story.

In storybooks, tales of princess marriages to foreign lands were always beautiful romances in exotic places.

The princesses in such stories were always gentle, kind, strong, and brave; the barbarian kings were always young, handsome, wise, and clever. Different cultures would clash, and beautiful souls would attract. In these stories, the princess endures countless hardships and grievances, but the barbarian king would always eventually see her true heart, and always understand her.

But reality wasn’t like that.

Mu Wanyao wasn’t strong enough – when wronged, she could only cry in confusion. The Wuman king wasn’t young or handsome; he was a middle-aged man who had reportedly abandoned his previous queen to welcome his new one. Because of this, he disliked Mu Wanyao from the start.

He blamed Mu Wanyao for being weak, blamed her for not being strong enough, and blamed her for not being able to break free from the constraints of propriety like Wuman women.

Wuman women were shared possessions, but Mu Wanyao, who came for the marriage alliance, refused this; Wuman women only needed to please men, but Mu Wanyao, who came through the marriage alliance, held herself above them, not placing Wuman men in her eyes.

The old Wuman king wasn’t wise – perhaps his wisest decision in life was forming a marriage alliance with Great Wei. And he made this decision only because he coveted Wei’s jewels, glass, silks, and satins. He was crude and barbaric, naturally untamed, knowing no propriety.

Mu Wanyao suffered deeply because of this.

Chunhua spoke softly: “It was the current Wuman king, Meng Zaishi, who rescued Her Highness from that fate. Meng Zaishi saved Her Highness many times, taking her away whenever she was about to break down. Her Highness seemed to truly become the kind of woman she wanted to be.”

“But I don’t know if, when sitting on the grasslands of Wuman, around the bonfire, when everyone was singing and laughing, if in Her Highness’s tender, affectionate glances at Meng Zaishi, there was any love.”

“I don’t know if, when Her Highness grew powerful, when she plotted to kill the old Wuman king, as she sat by his deathbed listening to his confessions her soft sigh truly held any sympathy for the dying old Wuman king.”

Chunhua’s voice trembled: “What was she thinking as she moved between different men, as people around her died one by one?”

“When she told me she was pregnant, but that she couldn’t keep the child, that she had to terminate it, what was she thinking?”

“Young Master Yan, do you know, Her Highness chose a path of no return… When that child couldn’t be terminated, she tried every possible method… When she was on the brink of death, bleeding so much, it was the Wuman king who sought divine herbs from the snowy mountains to save Her Highness’s life… But when the Wuman king knelt before Her Highness’s bed, looking at that bloody stillborn, what was the princess thinking?”

“Meng Zaishi held the princess and cried that night. But the princess didn’t shed a single tear. The princess never even looked at that stillborn once – we buried it secretly… I don’t know what Her Highness has been thinking all these years. She doesn’t confide in us, but she smiles charmingly at men, she’s become willful and unrestrained, she gets angry easily, often scolding us for being clumsy… but what does that matter?”

Chunhua lowered her head, tears in her eyes.

She supported herself on the wooden table, her shoulders trembling slightly. Tears fell, splashing on the floor tiles like withered flowers. As if in a daze, she mumbled:

“It’s just anger, just unhappiness. What does it matter? I’ve seen her grievances, seen how she endured… I wish she would show her temper more often.”

“Let it all out, forget it all.”

“Young Master Yan, do you resent Her Highness for being unable to bear children? Even if you do resent her, don’t leave her for this reason – you can find any other reason…”

Yan Shang remained silent.

He staggered back two steps, unable to bear it, leaning against the table behind him. His fists clenched inside his sleeves, his face tightened, trembling slightly from the tension. He was utterly mortified, dazed, and disheveled: “I apologize… I- I should take my leave.”

The atmosphere was too oppressive; he could no longer stay in the Prince of Jin’s residence. Yan Shang made a hasty bow and turned to leave.

As he exited the main hall, he heard thunder rumbling overhead. He closed his eyes briefly, and though he hadn’t witnessed it personally, he seemed to hear her crying beside his ear.

Yan Shang left the Prince of Jin’s residence and mounted his horse. As he sat astride, those old memories surrounded and entangled him. He had always been deeply empathetic, especially now concerning Mu Wanyao. Thus, as the young gentleman gripped the reins, with each step his horse took, he seemed to hear her crying.

Whether his eyes were open or closed, he seemed to see her standing in darkness.

She held a sword, her body stained red with blood, her face paper-white. In bitter wind and rain, amid desolation, her black eyes gazed at him as she reached out her hand, saying softly:

“Brother Yan, save me.”

Yan Shang hunched over on his horse, his heart aching as if struck by a heavy blow.

In his vision, he saw her lying in bed, blood flowing everywhere, her life ebbing away with it; he saw her chasing after that old man, begging him not to take away her maid; he saw her riding with Meng Zaishi, weaving between cliff walls, laughing carefree and untroubled… but when she turned to face him, the smile in her eyes became hollow and false.

She reached out to him, whispering:

“Brother, save me.”

“Save me.”

“Save me!”

Yan Shang’s eyes brimmed with tears, which clung to his eyelashes. He hunched over, clutching his heart, feeling as if it was being torn apart, his whole body trembling as overwhelming grief enveloped him, making him want to weep uncontrollably.

His heart ached to the point of tears, yet his sorrow could not be expressed.

“BOOM—”

Thunder exploded across the sky, and torrential rain poured down like a flood from heaven—

The sudden downpour hindered Princess Danyang’s party on their journey. Outside, people hurried to seek shelter from the rain under Fang Tong’s direction. Inside the carriage, Mu Wanyao’s cloud-like hair was disheveled, and her long eyelashes trembling. She remained lost in her dream, still not waking.

She dreamed she was a fifteen-year-old princess again.

But in the dream, she escaped the fate of the marriage alliance.

She grew up happily in Chang’an, waiting for her grand coming-of-age ceremony at fifteen. Afterward, she met a young man in Chang’an, a youth of extraordinary grace and beauty, as beautiful as a jade immortal from heaven.

She liked him so much that she begged everywhere, mustering the courage to throw a princess’s tantrum for the first time, insisting on marrying that young man. The Emperor and Empress had no choice but to grant him the position of Number Three Scholar, finally fulfilling their little daughter’s wish, marrying her off on her coming-of-age day.

So in the dream, Mu Wanyao always followed that young man:

“Brother Yan, will you stay in Chang’an? Will you marry a princess?”

“Brother Yan, will you play with me? Will you hold me?”

“Brother Yan, shall we marry? Shall we be husband and wife? Shall I bear many children for you?”

“Brother Yan, will you always love me? Can we always, always… be together?”—

Under the rumbling thunder, raindrops fell as large as beans.

In the afternoon Chang’an city was washed clean by the rain, the downpour sweeping in like a fierce wind, sending people in the streets scrambling for shelter.

Only one young gentleman didn’t seek shelter; he rode his horse, drifting hazily through the streets. Bold lovesick girls standing under shop eaves to avoid the rain called out to the young man in the misty rain:

“Young sir, such heavy rain! Come shelter here!”

Yan Shang sat on his horse, his body and clothes soaked by rain. With wet hair clinging to his face, he turned somewhat dazedly to see the people sheltering under the shop eaves.

He suddenly came to his senses, for the first time forgetting his manners by not returning the greeting of the kind-hearted girl. Yan Shang gripped the reins tightly, turned, and headed toward the Princess’s residence.

Many people had already left the Princess’s residence in Chang’an, though some remained to maintain the illusion, to prevent Yan Shang from knowing the princess was gone. Yan Shang dismounted in the alley and knocked at the princess’s gate. The servants opened the door and apologized as usual, but this time, Yan Shang insisted on entering, insisted on seeing her…

In the struggle and commotion, the princess’s household couldn’t handle Yan Shang, and finally shouted: “Our Princess is no longer in Chang’an! Young Master Yan, even if you beg us and enter, it’s useless!”

“BOOM—”

Thunder crashed again in the distance.

Lightning illuminated Yan Shang’s ice-snow-like wet eyes.

Without a word, he turned and left, mounted his horse again, and rode straight for the city gates!—

At the northern camp in Chang’an, just after lunch when the downpour began, a violent incident occurred.

Some soldiers had conflicts with the eunuchs, and when an officer came to intervene, his words showed insufficient respect toward the eunuchs.

Liu Wenji was brought over by the eunuchs to hear the officer laughing: “Come on, why bother with those rootless ones? We can’t disrespect His Majesty’s wishes… Ah!”

The officer let out an agonized cry, and all the surrounding soldiers stood up, glaring: “Sir! What are you doing!”

The first phrase was directed at the dead officer, the second at Liu Wenji, who was methodically pulling his sword from the officer’s back and wiping the blood from it.

Liu Wenji took out a handkerchief and coldly wiped the blood from his sword. The soldiers surrounded them, eyes bulging with fury and indignation. As they stirred restlessly, Liu Wenji raised his eyes, his sinister gaze fixed on them: “Let’s see who dares to move!”

“Do you want to defy imperial orders?”

“Move one more time, and I’ll bathe this entire camp in blood! We’ll see whose side His Majesty takes!”

Liu Wenji’s face was pale, his gaze dark, momentarily causing these soldiers to freeze in place.

In the silence, a bold soldier spoke: “His Majesty will surely side with us…”

Liu Wenji replied coldly: “Are you certain?”

“If I kill you, what can you do about it?”

Liu Wenji held his sword, his gaze icy as he stepped forward, while the soldiers stepped back. He looked around at everyone and declared loudly: “Do you all want to become traitors?!”

The surrounding soldiers’ breathing grew heavy, those who looked down on him now glaring with hateful eyes. But how cowardly these men were, not daring to move, holding weapons yet not one daring to rush forward to kill Liu Wenji.

Liu Wenji heard the pattering rain outside, facing a tent full of soldiers barely containing their rage. The colder he became, the less they dared to move. When someone finally dared to act, he pointed his sword, and the bold one was quickly bound by the quick-witted palace servants.

His back was soaked with sweat, the feeling of killing for the first time was truly terrifying, but at this moment, he felt both bitter and exhilarated. He suddenly wanted to laugh madly—

How ridiculous! How pitiful!

This is fate!—

In the Wei residence, during the heavy rain, Wei Shu and Zhao Lingfei sat in the hall.

Wei Shu sat before the chess board, facing the worried Zhao Lingfei across from him.

Zhao Lingfei mumbled in confusion: “Do I have to marry an old man…”

Wei Shu said: “No.”

Zhao Lingfei was startled to hear him speak and looked at him. She saw Wei Shu place a white piece on the board, the youth’s eyes downcast, his eyelashes thick.

As if convincing both himself and Zhao Lingfei, his tone was calm yet firm: “Even mayflies can shake trees, even ants should fight for spring. Why should we submit to fate?”

Zhao Lingfei stared at him blankly.

He raised his eyes to look at her, yet seemed to look through her toward a broader future. Zhao Lingfei turned with him to look out the window at the rain-drenched world, at the ancient trees standing tall in the rain, at the vines below the window being battered but refusing to fall from the wall top.

The young man and woman watched the great rain together, muttering in unison as if to themselves: “…Yes, why should we submit to fate?”—

Fate is unjust! Fate is unbearable! Fate toys with people!

Then let us spend our lives fighting it, never submitting, never falling!—

As the rain poured down across the land, a young eunuch held his sword, facing an entire camp of soldiers, beginning to kill; a young official and young lady sat together, making a decision in their hearts, preparing to break the deadlock.

A young princess awoke in her carriage miles from Chang’an, gazing at the curtain of rain across the land; a young gentleman presented his official tablet, rode out of the city, leaving Chang’an—

The sky had been dark for a long time, the rain had lessened somewhat, and Fang Tong’s party finally found a post station about ten miles from Chang’an where they could spend the night.

Xiarong helped Mu Wanyao step out of the carriage. Mu Wanyao’s magnificent skirts spread behind her, and as she alighted, maids held up the hem from behind to keep the princess’s clothes from splashing in the mud.

Mu Wanyao was languid as she gathered her thoughts and looked at the post station’s lights. As she was about to walk toward the station, she heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Mu Wanyao was so proud that even now she had no curiosity. The dream she had that afternoon had left her emotionally exhausted, too tired to care who else might be staying at this post station.

As Mu Wanyao lifted her foot to climb the steps, the hoofbeats stopped, and footsteps approached, urgent yet unsteady.

Mu Wanyao still paid no attention.

Until she heard a maid’s confused and anxious murmur: “Young- Young Master Yan?”

Mu Wanyao froze.

But then she thought there were many young masters ranked second in the world, it surely couldn’t be him. At this time, he should have just returned home from the Ministry of Rites, and with good luck, would have just learned that she was no longer in Chang’an.

As she was thinking this, that person caught up from behind.

Her wrist was grasped from behind.

She was pulled down from the steps and turned to face the person who had pursued her. Her wrist was held as her eyes gradually widened, staring dumbly at this completely drenched, thoroughly soaked Yan Shang.

His collar and sleeves were spotted with mud, his hair ribbon hung wet on his shoulder, his long hair clung to his cheeks in wet strands. His face was pale, his lips crimson.

Though this disheveled appearance presented a striking sort of disordered beauty, it was not Yan Shang’s usual manner.

Mu Wanyao was dazed, wondering if this was a dream.

That afternoon dream… had lasted so long.

In the darkness beneath the lights, Yan Shang’s hand trembled slightly as he held hers, the raindrops falling from his eyelashes onto her clean, slender wrist. Mu Wanyao looked down at her wrist in his grip, then raised her head to look at him again, still confused.

The rain drizzled as Xiarong held an umbrella nearby, standing in confusion with the other maids. The maids watched Young Master Yan standing before the princess, gazing at each other.

The rain had soaked his entire body, outlining his slender, upright form. Like jade and bamboo, covered in frost.

Before the post station, the faint light in Yan Shang’s eyes shone on her, as quiet and dark as the night, yet as clear and gentle as pure water. The princess’s expression changed, and she tried to pull away, but Yan Shang was uncharacteristically firm, not backing down.

The rain enveloped the two of them as Fang Tong opened the post station door holding a lantern. They saw Yan Shang standing in the corridor, holding their princess’s wrist, saying softly: “You’ve always blamed me for never being impulsive, haven’t you?”

“Consider this my moment of impulse for you… I left Chang’an without taking leave.”