Ying Chun worked quickly, helping her young lady change into attire suited for riding, then sat her down and with all possible speed put her hair up neatly and wiped away every trace from her face, until the young lady appeared entirely as she always did.

She knew why her young lady had lost her composure. The Regent Prince… was departing on campaign today.

Fu Dong entered. The person who on any ordinary day would be carrying tray after tray of dishes came in carrying only a bundle and a still-steaming flatbread. “Please eat something first to line your stomach. The medicinal meal will wait until you return. In this bundle is some food — I made it on the heavier side so it goes well with travel rations. Please take it to the Regent Prince, my lord.”

Hua Zhi’s eyes began to sting again. She drew a long breath, took the flatbread, bit off a large piece, and walked out quickly, eating as she went. She had to be fast.

It was the first time everyone in the Hua household had seen their First Young Lady — the one who never showed a change in expression even when the sky was falling — running with her skirts flying, setting all propriety aside as she walked and ate at the same time. She ran from the inner courtyard through to the front, stuffed the last piece of flatbread into her mouth, took the reins from Steward Xu’s hands, swung herself up into the saddle, and galloped off.

In the main thoroughfares riding was prohibited except for warhorses, so she wove through the side lanes — no matter how many people turned to stare, no matter how many stood gaping in disbelief, she had no thought for any of it. She did not want to reach some point in the future when there was nothing left to say; she did not want to part still carrying her grievance and leave Yanxi troubled in his heart; she did not want to look back on this moment and find only regret.

She did not want to leave behind any regret.

Outside the East Gate, banners snapped in the wind. Thirty thousand elite troops drawn from the capital’s garrison stood in precise formation, silent and still. Gu Yanxi was dressed in full armor, which made his already imposing frame appear more commanding still.

Behind a ceremonial table, the young Crown Prince personally poured and filled two cups, extending one to the newly appointed Mighty Military General and raising the other high himself. “A toast to Heaven, to Earth, and to the rivers and mountains of our great Daqing.”

Gu Yanxi joined the toast — to Heaven, to Earth — then poured his cup out onto the ground below the table.

The second cup was poured.

The Crown Prince raised it high, then tipped it onto the ground. “To General Sun.”

The third cup was poured.

“And this cup — to the Regent Prince, who stands firm as the sky itself.”

Gu Yanxi knelt on one knee in the martial salute. “This minister will devote every last measure of his strength to protect the rivers and mountains of Daqing.”

When he had spoken, he raised the cup in both hands and drank it in one go.

The Crown Prince bent and raised him up. “This court awaits the General’s triumphant return.”

“This minister will not disappoint the Crown Prince.”

The Crown Prince looked up at the man who stood a full head taller than him, his voice dropped so low that only the two of them could hear: “Nothing is more important than your life. Shizi-ge, you must come back.”

These words should not have come from the lips of a Crown Prince soon to ascend the throne — they implied that the great general being dispatched had permission to retreat if all else failed. Yet he had said them, and said them with complete sincerity. Imperial Tutor had taught him: a person may die with their dignity intact, yet it is only through living that all possibilities remain open. If it truly came to a point where nothing more could be done, he hoped Shizi-ge would preserve his life, so that something might still be attempted later.

Gu Yanxi was genuinely surprised — yet what he felt most was warmth. He swallowed the words of caution he had been about to speak, and let something softer enter his usually unyielding tone. “This minister hopes to see the Crown Prince become a great ruler of a prosperous age.”

“I will.” The Crown Prince raised his chin, self-assured and unabashed. “I most certainly will!”

Gu Yanxi seemed to smile. He clasped his hands together in a salute to the assembled civil and military officials who had come to see him off. Every minister returned the salute with full gravity. They admired the Regent Prince — at least in this moment, each of them did.

Chen Qing, similarly clad in armor, led a horse forward and handed the reins to his master. Gu Yanxi took them and was just about to swing himself into the saddle when a voice reached him from somewhere in the distance. “Gu Yanxi!”

His whole body stiffened. He turned at once to look — and there below the city gate, who else could it be but Ah-Zhi?

Hua Zhi’s hair was no longer as tidy as she always kept it. The main thoroughfare did not permit riding, and the last stretch had no narrow lanes to cut through — afraid of missing him, she had abandoned her horse and run the rest of the way.

She knew how disheveled she looked, and she could not have cared less. Her heart held only the relief of having made it in time, and her eyes could see no one else. She ran toward Yanxi, thinking of nothing but him.

Gu Yanxi went to meet her, surprised and overjoyed both at once. His heart melted at the sight of her sweat-beaded brow, soft as if it had been soaked in warm water. He instinctively reached for his sleeve to wipe it away, then realized his sleeves were soft armor, and had to use his fingers instead to brush the perspiration from her forehead.

“How did you come to be here.”

“There were things I would regret for the rest of my life if I left them unsaid.” Hua Zhi raised her head and looked up at the man who stood a full head above her — in his eyes there was only her. “You said your heart is drawn to me.”

“It is. My heart is drawn to you.”

“Do you intend to marry me?”

“When I return safely, I will come for you in a carriage of ten bearers and marry you properly through the main gate.”

Hua Zhi smiled. “Then listen carefully. In this lifetime I will marry only one man. His name is Gu Yanxi. If he lives, I marry him. If he dies, I marry him still. If he is crippled, I marry him. If he is disabled, I marry him. If all that remains of him is a piece of rotting flesh and a handful of bones — I still marry him. In ancient times there was Hua Mulan who took her father’s place in the army, and Mu Guiying who led the troops into battle — I too can put on armor and go to avenge my husband. As for my meager, middling fighting ability — you know it well enough. If I truly stepped onto a battlefield, the only thing waiting for me is death…”

“Ah-Zhi!”

“Then if you do not want me to meet that end — come back to me alive!” Hua Zhi was still smiling, a light shining in her eyes. “I am waiting for you to come back and marry me in a carriage of ten bearers.”

Gu Yanxi was shaken to his core, his mind entirely blank. All he could do was follow his instinct and pull her close, still mindful that his armor was too hard, releasing his hold when he feared it was too tight, then tightening his arms again, wishing he could shed this whole cumbersome thing and take this person somewhere no one could ever find them — away from any care of dynasty or kingdom, away from any burden of home and country. None of it. Only the person in his arms.

He wanted only this person.

In full view of the assembled crowd, the two of them embraced without any trace of concealment or shame — so open and unashamed that the surrounding officials, who had just witnessed something extraordinary and didn’t quite know what to do with themselves, averted their gazes. Some found their eyes very interested in the tips of their own shoes; others cast amused glances toward Minister Zhu, for the person carrying out this most earth-shaking of scenes was none other than Minister Zhu’s own granddaughter.

Zhu Bowen let his eyelids droop halfway, as though he neither saw nor heard anything at all. He had never intended to manage this particular granddaughter — even if she came running here in a bridal gown and demanded to exchange vows on the spot, he would have been willing to help set up the canopy.

Fortunately, those two were never ordinary people.

Hua Zhi drew back from his arms and picked up the bundle she had dropped on the ground, pressing it into his hands. “Fu Dong made this for you to eat on the road. Set out now — go quickly and come back quickly.”

Yet Gu Yanxi could not bring himself to let her go. The Ah-Zhi who had abandoned all composure, the Ah-Zhi who had spoken words that moved heaven and earth, the Ah-Zhi who had cast aside every feminine propriety — all of it was for him. How could he bear to leave?

“Ah-Zhi…”

“I only want to hear that your heart is drawn to me. Nothing else.”

“My heart is drawn to you.” Gu Yanxi did not hesitate for even a moment. He took her hand and pressed it to his chest, saying it again and again: “My heart is drawn to you. Only to you. Everything in here belongs to you.”

Hua Zhi raised her chin slightly. “At least you have good taste.”

“No one in the world has better taste than I do.”

Hua Zhi covered her eyes with her hand and bowed her head. “Go now.”

Gu Yanxi looked down at the water stains on the ground — one after another, marking where she had stood — and felt his heart shudder with each one. He wanted to tell her not to cry, but something seemed to be blocking his throat and not a single word would come. He could only pull her close once more, press his lips to her ear, and make her his promise: “I will come back alive. Wait for me.”