When I returned to the great hall, both my shadow guard leader and Military Colonel Wang knelt down, begging me to quickly escape Ze Prefecture city before the Liang forces reached the walls and deliver the battle report to the capital.

I said: “I’ve already sent two fast riders back to the capital. The court will certainly take action within three days, so there’s no need for me to make such a trip personally.”

A’Shang suddenly stood up: “Princess, if we delay another step, it may be too late…”

Colonel Wang also stood up, speaking urgently without choosing words: “Scouts report nearly four hundred thousand Liang troops, but Ze Prefecture city has only five thousand defending soldiers. Princess, Ze Prefecture… probably cannot be held. Why must you stay here to await death…”

I remained silent for a moment, looking at them: “If I leave, can the five hundred thousand civilians in Ze Prefecture city leave too?”

Colonel Wang said: “Princess, you are precious beyond measure—how can you come to harm? Even if we die…”

I interrupted: “I am the military supervisor His Majesty sent to Ze Prefecture. With the great army deployed in full, leaving no generals in the military, I am the general. Defending Ze Prefecture city is my duty. Have you ever seen a commanding general abandon the army and flee?”

“Princess—”

I said: “A’Shang, order all Bright Mirror Bureau shadow guards to don military uniforms and prepare to defend the city!”

Bright Mirror Bureau shadow guards always obeyed orders. Seeing my mind was made up, A’Shang stopped trying to persuade me and immediately turned to leave.

Colonel Wang still wanted to say something. I asked: “Wang Ping, with Liang forces attacking, are you afraid to die?”

“This subordinate… is not afraid.”

I said: “If even you’re not afraid, how could I, a princess, be inferior to a mere colonel?”

This questioning was naturally sophistry.

Who in this world wouldn’t fear death, except those tired of living?

But Wang Ping couldn’t answer my words. Even he couldn’t give me a convincing enough reason to leave.

Liang Kingdom’s sudden border assault was definitely not a spur-of-the-moment decision. Their attack during Daqing’s internal turmoil meant they must already know our military situation thoroughly.

Ze Prefecture city would ultimately be breached, just as Lu Lingjun’s force of fewer than a hundred thousand would inevitably be overwhelmed by Nie Ran’s elite troops. But he had to fight until the last moment, and Ze Prefecture must also be defended until the last moment.

Allowing five thousand scattered soldiers to defend the city in panic without order would yield completely different results from having someone lead them in a sworn fight to the death. I knew that even if I didn’t need to do anything, just my willingness to stay and share their fate would allow the city to hold for at least half a day longer.

Perhaps half a day wouldn’t be enough for reinforcements from various regions to arrive, nor for Song Langsheng to rush back and turn the tide, but at least it could buy them more time to defend, reinforce, and make better preparations.

When I stepped onto the city wall again and looked at the gradually approaching Liang forces from the battlements, I remembered my final conversation with father emperor, when he suddenly said: “In my heart, you have always… always been my daughter… always will be.”

I hadn’t said anything then, but now I wanted to answer him.

I might not be able to remain a princess for life, but I am father emperor’s daughter. Father emperor’s daughter would never be a deserter.

This siege defense lasted a full day and night.

The moat had long been filled with corpses from both armies. Boiling oil, rolling stones, and arrow formations never ceased, yet couldn’t make the Liang troops scaling the walls retreat even slightly.

Looking out, Liang corpses covered the ground below the city, but they seemed inexhaustible, attacking in wave after wave. Human lives were like ants, the slaughter never ending.

Liang battering rams and siege engines were once again pushed toward the city gate. Each impact seemed to make heaven and earth tremble.

The city gate was about to be breached, but our remaining forces were few. That we could fight to this point was already miraculous.

The Liang commander watched me from far below the city wall. I had met him once during the days when our two nations were allied. He knew my position in Qing Kingdom and would certainly try to capture me alive. If Daqing’s princess truly fell into their hands, I would only become a hostage to be manipulated. If I couldn’t be used by them, the torture and humiliation I would suffer was self-evident.

How could I give them the chance to capture a living Princess Xiangyi?

At this moment, A’Shang and several other surviving shadow guards stood by my side, saying resolutely: “Princess, we swear to protect you until the final moment.”

I picked up a sword and said to A’Shang: “I don’t know how to use a sword, but putting on an act shouldn’t matter.”

Being able to kill myself with one sword strike would be enough.

A’Shang was stunned: “Princess, you intend to…”

“When Liang forces breach the city, escort me through the encirclement to the Liang commander.” I sheathed the sword, gripping the handle, and smiled lightly: “A’Shang, thank you for accompanying me through this final journey.”

I can no longer remember what that final journey of flashing blades and bloody carnage looked like. Only when we pressed closer to the commander’s banner, approaching the Liang commander ever nearer, did the sun finally rise at the distant horizon.

The jade pendant at my chest slipped out from my collar as the horse swayed. I looked down at it—this was what Song Langsheng had personally carved for me before departing for war. Thinking carefully, this jade fan was the first gift he gave me, and probably the last.

He had promised me he would never let himself die on the battlefield, that he would definitely survive to reunite with me.

He had kept his word.

But my promise to him—to wait obediently for his return so we could travel the world together—could not be fulfilled.

I thought I would die gloriously like this, becoming a tale told in later generations, my name spreading far and wide, mentioned endlessly through history’s long river.

But when I approached the Liang commander, intending to calmly slit my throat before their encircling arrow formation, I suddenly heard a whoosh as an arrow struck precisely into the Liang commander’s chest.

This sudden turn of events shocked me so much I forgot the correct posture for suicide. Had a Liang soldier’s hand slipped? Or was there such a divine archer hidden in Ze Prefecture city whom I knew nothing about?

Everyone around froze. The Liang commander swayed unsteadily, clutching his chest and immediately ordering my capture. Though I knew I should seize this opportunity for proper self-immolation, I couldn’t help but look back curiously toward where the arrow came from. With this glance, I saw a figure in silver armor with a long spear, spurring his horse toward us at lightning speed.

The ground beneath trembled faintly. Behind him came the thunderous sound of galloping hooves, surging forward in layers.

I stared at that fluttering banner in bewilderment. The rider was already close, his long spear horizontal—

The spear blade pierced armor with an ear-splitting sound. With a clang, the sword the Liang commander was swinging toward me fell to the ground. The rider twisted his wrist and withdrew the spear shaft. Blood splattered as the Liang commander fell from his horse, and the rider swept me up onto his horse with one arm, holding me within his embrace.

Then he said to me: “Hold on tight.”

I thought I was seeing wrong, hearing wrong. Wasn’t his elite force supposed to be attacking the capital? How could he suddenly appear in Ze Prefecture?

Nie Ran—how could Nie Ran possibly be here?

The Liang forces finally reacted, soldiers from all sides surging forward. Nie family troops surrounded us tightly in the center. The fallen Liang commander shouted loudly at Nie Ran: “You are Qing Kingdom rebels who should join us against Qing forces! Why do you oppose us instead!”

Nie Ran sneered coldly: “What we do is our business! How dare foreign invaders invade our territory and kill our people!”

The Liang commander angrily pointed: “You—do you know this was arranged by your commander Nie Guang…”

Before he could finish speaking, Nie Ran swept his spear across, cutting the Liang commander’s words short in a spray of blood.

Simultaneously, he spurred his horse forward, breaking through a blood-stained path in the Liang encirclement!

Along this path, countless blades thrust forward, countless people’s blood splattered on us, but all the sweeping attacks were blocked by his long spear from reaching us.

Liang forces far outnumbered Nie family troops. In this bitter battle, every step forward was bought with soldiers’ flesh and blood.

After Nie Ran cut down another person, I saw dark-armored soldiers approaching from afar, their banner bearing the large character “Qing”—these were the elite troops led by Lu Lingjun. My whole body shook as I murmured: “Why…”

Why would Nie family troops join with Qing forces to repel Liang forces?

Why?

Nie Ran had no time to answer me. The elite cavalry protecting us grew fewer and fewer. His every bit of attention was on fighting enemies, yet even as his hands and feet were wounded, even as Liang attacks continued unabated, he never let a single arrow harm me.

I had never imagined that the person who would bring me out of this chaotic slaughter would be Nie Ran.

I didn’t understand—I couldn’t comprehend no matter how I tried. This Nie family force was their final elite army, their last hope for restoring their kingdom. Yet Nie Ran led troops to battle Liang Kingdom. Did he know what kind of war he had chosen by fighting this battle?

We moved farther from the battle circle. The Nie family guards who had stayed close to us fell behind to cut off pursuit routes and let Nie Ran escape first, never catching up again.

The horse plunged headfirst into the forest and ran for a very long time, until we could no longer hear the distant sounds of slaughter and screaming. Heaven and earth stretched endlessly, the wilderness path was rugged—this road seemed to have no end. I didn’t know where Nie Ran intended to take me.

However, the next moment, Nie Ran pulled the reins and helped me down from the horse.

He was covered in blood from head to toe—impossible to tell his own from others’. He calmly handed me a bronze token: “Cross this forest and you’ll reach Song River. There are several farming households by the river. Show them this token and they’ll take you in. When the turmoil settles, it won’t be too late to leave.”

I didn’t take it. He pried open my fingers and pressed the bronze token into my palm. Seeing he was about to turn away, I said: “You’re badly wounded…”

“It’s nothing.”

Having said this, he mounted his horse again and headed back toward the forest’s edge. My heart was completely confused as I watched his retreating figure, then saw him collapse onto the horse’s back.

The horse was also wounded and couldn’t run fast. I rushed forward urgently and grabbed the reins, finally stopping the horse.

Nie Ran had already fainted. His face was pale as paper, blood dripping from the saddle to the ground drop by drop. Even at his last extremity, he still wanted to rush to the battlefield to fight alongside his subordinates.

I touched the horse’s mane and led it step by step toward Song River. The sunset’s afterglow shone on the treetops—the road was long, dusk boundless.

Night mist drifted lightly with the wind like gauze, not daring to lift it, not daring to face what lay beneath.

The candle in the room had burned halfway down when the village doctor finished bandaging Nie Ran’s wounds and slowly stepped outside, telling me: “The young master lost too much blood, but fortunately no vital organs were injured. He needs quiet rest and recuperation. I’ve written a prescription and left it on the table—five doses of medicine to be taken over ten days, and he’ll recover soon.”

I nodded.

As I had expected, this small village had countless connections to the Nie family. Upon seeing Nie Ran, the villagers immediately sought a doctor for him with utmost care. They didn’t know my identity, only thinking I was traveling with Nie Ran. They provided us with two village houses to rest in but didn’t dare ask too many questions.

I slowly entered the room. We had both changed into clean cotton and hemp clothing. Recalling the day’s heart-stopping events, I felt somewhat dazed.

I picked up the jade flute from the table and soaked it in a bronze basin to wash away the bloodstains. This jade flute was what I had given to Xu Fang years ago, but I hadn’t expected that even on the battlefield, Nie Ran still carried it with him.

I moved a wooden chair beside the bed and sat down.

Nie Ran’s eyes were tightly closed, his brow slightly furrowed, seemingly unable to sleep peacefully due to pain from his wounds. I reached out to feel his forehead and found it burning hot. Turning to fetch cool water for him, I was suddenly caught by the wrist. I froze, seeing his eyelashes flutter slightly, then slowly open his eyes. His hoarse voice drifted in the night wind: “He Feng…”

My whole body stiffened. What did he call me?

Seeing me stunned and at a loss, he looked around somewhat confused, gazing at me with gentle warmth in his eyes: “Where are we?”

I stared at him in shock, replying blankly: “We… this is… by the river…”

“River?” He blinked somewhat confusedly: “Weren’t we going to Suiyang?”

Outside came waves of cricket chirping. In that instant, I suddenly realized the Nie Ran before me was delirious with fever, placing himself in the journey to Suiyang from over a year ago. He still thought I was He Feng, thought he was the Xu Fang who wanted to take He Feng far away.

A gust of wind extinguished the candle in the room, instantly plunging everything into darkness.

I hastily withdrew my hand: “I’ll go light a candle.”

The flint seemed to have lost its power—no matter how many times I struck it, no sparks would ignite. My hands trembling, I tried to calm my rapid breathing. When I finally relit the candle and turned around, I discovered he had fallen asleep again.

I walked step by step slowly to the bedside and gently pushed him: “…Xu… Fang?”

He didn’t respond.

I touched my heavy heart and stared at him blankly for a very long time, so long I didn’t even notice my own tears falling.

I kept watch by his bedside, leaning against the chair back lost in wild thoughts, unknowingly falling asleep.

I don’t know how long I slept.

I only know that when I suddenly woke, I found a man’s outer robe draped over me, while the person who had been on the bed was gone.

Voices could be heard faintly outside the door. I put the robe back on the bed and slowly walked to the door, peering through the crack to see several armored soldiers kneeling before Nie Ran. The lead veteran said in a trembling voice: “Young Master… the Liang forces have been defeated and fled to the western border… but our great army…”

Another old general choked up: “General Nie and the others are all… Young Master, now only we remain, only we are left…”

Nie Ran had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his expression. His silhouette was like a statue, motionless. The veteran wiped away tears: “Young Master, don’t be discouraged. This subordinate has prepared a boat by the river—we can cross the river and escape Qing forces… Young Master, we still have military seals, we can still rally the former dynasty’s remnants in the northern border. We can definitely rise again. Young Master, as long as you remain, you are the Great Zhou’s hope…”

After a long silence, Nie Ran’s voice revealed no emotion: “General Chen speaks truly. You go first—when daylight comes, I’ll naturally join you.”

After those veteran officers left, Nie Ran sat silently by the door, lost in thought.

I slowly pushed open the door. Nie Ran looked up at me upon hearing the sound: “Did I wake you?”

“…No, I saw you weren’t there… so…” My heart was in complete chaos. Remembering how he had called me “He Feng” in his delirium, so different from his current cold distance, I stammered: “Just now…”

“Mm?”

“When you were dreaming… you seemed confused and… asked me…”

“Asked you?”

“Asked me… where we were…” I looked at him tentatively: “You don’t remember?”

Nie Ran frowned thoughtfully and shook his head: “Perhaps because I was wounded, my mind wasn’t clear. Don’t take it to heart.”

I looked at him—his expression didn’t seem false. I nodded and sat beside him: “Your wound… is it better?”

He said: “Yes.”

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, my mind blank, he said to me: “Ze Prefecture city is safe, and Lu Lingjun is still alive. You can rest assured.” After a pause, he turned to look at me. Seeing I showed no joy: “What’s wrong?”

I lowered my head and found my hands were actually trembling slightly: “With Liang forces invading and court armies unable to respond in time, the capital barely able to protect itself, shouldn’t you have seized this excellent opportunity to strike directly at the heart? Why? Why did you come to Ze Prefecture?”

He said slowly: “At this point, what meaning does this question have for you?”

I said: “It does. I want to know the answer… I want to know if it was because you worried Liang forces would ultimately reap the fisherman’s profit? Or was this also one of Nie Guang’s strategies? Or perhaps…”

“Because you were there.” He answered without warning.

Everything before my eyes instantly became blurred and hazy, then gradually cleared. Moonlight revealed Nie Ran’s deep ocean-like eyes: “Because you were in Ze Prefecture, I had to save you.”

I stared at him blankly, hearing my own trembling voice: “Nie Ran, I’m not worth such treatment from you…”

“You are worth it.”

These words were so familiar.

The year I first met Xu Fang, I had angrily scolded him in the village, telling him my heart wasn’t with him. He had said the same words to me then.

But these warm words now cut my heart like a knife. I met his gaze: “You…”

He suddenly curved his lips and laughed: “I was lying.”

I didn’t understand: “What?”

“Princess.” He said: “Today you also heard Liang commander Feng Zhixi say that their attack on Ze Prefecture was done in collaboration with my father. This Ze Prefecture battle was originally caused by Nie family forces—how can we claim we saved you?”

Tonight’s moon hung in the ink-black sky, so desolately cold. He gazed calmly at the night sky: “As for me, even if… I chose to walk this path of kingdom restoration, I still despise their use of foreign enemy forces, trading millions of civilians’ lives for territory… This is my answer.”

Moonlight cast our shadows on the ground. His hands were crossed and placed on his knees, gripping tightly.

He didn’t know that in the past at Chen Family Village, whenever Xu Fang felt guilty about lying to me, his hands would clasp together this same way.

I turned my head away, suddenly feeling something blocking my chest completely. Nie Ran suddenly said: “I’ve always had one doubt…”

I turned back nonchalantly: “Mm?”

He took out the jade flute from behind him and waved it before me: “This flute—where did you buy it for him? I remember Chen Family Village was a fishing village—there couldn’t possibly be anywhere selling jade flutes.”

I was drawn into memories and couldn’t help smiling: “To buy this jade flute, I walked for half a day and only found it in the neighboring town… Don’t look at this flute’s crude jade quality—to buy it, I washed clothes for a very long time…”

His gaze softened: “It seems the princess truly suffered quite a bit then…”

I said without thinking: “Being with someone you love, what does a little suffering matter…”

Nie Ran’s flute-turning motion stopped. Only then did I realize what I’d said, saying softly: “What I meant was… the past…”

He remained noncommittal, a self-mocking smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. He looked toward the peach tree in the courtyard. At Chen Family Village, in front of the home I shared with Xu Fang, there had been a very similar tree. Xu Fang loved playing the flute under that tree for me. Nie Ran stared for a while, then slowly raised the flute to his lips and began playing that familiar melody.

Gentle Wind and Moon.

But when he reached halfway through, he stopped. Turning to me, he asked: “That day in the forest, you only hummed the first half of this tune with me. I never could figure out the second half’s melody. Now, would you sing it for me?”

My eyes heated up. I quickly turned away, inconspicuously wiping away the tears that had quietly slipped down: “It’s been too long… I can’t remember clearly…”

After a long while, he quietly broke the silence: “You’re right—it’s been too long. It should be forgotten.”

I lowered my head, not daring to look into his eyes: “Nie Ran, when day breaks, will you leave?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you plan to go?”

“I don’t know. Probably… very far away…”

I nodded: “Being able to forget everything here and start anew would be good too…”

“Yes, that would be good too.”

Several clouds drifted, covering the moon. Light and shadow became mottled and dim.

I slowly stood up and walked toward the inner room: “I’m sleepy. I’ll sleep inside for a while. You should rest early too.”

Just as I stepped through the doorway, he suddenly called out: “Princess…”

I stopped, placing one hand on the door frame, then slowly turned back, forcing a slight smile: “What is it?”

He looked at me, his eyes showing a moment’s fluctuation, as if he wanted to say something to me. However, after gazing at me deeply for a moment, he ultimately said nothing, only smiling very lightly: “Nothing. Rest well.”

Two rooms, separated by one wall—exactly like the Chen Family Village house back then.

Only it was no longer possible to return to those days of forgetting day by day, to return to each morning when I’d open my eyes and see him sitting by my bed, then carefully asking: “Do you… remember me? I’m… I’m called Xu Fang.”

I was no longer He Feng, and he was no longer Xu Fang.

But on this night, could either of us sleep peacefully?

Night gradually thinned, dawn light seeping through the horizon.

I suddenly awakened, only then realizing it was already light.

I quietly put on my shoes and socks and went to the outer room. The room was empty, with neither flute nor sword on the table—he had indeed already left.

So last night’s final words had been farewell.

I slowly stepped out of the village house. Ahead was the sound of river water lapping against the shore. My robes fluttered in the wind as I unconsciously gathered them, walking alone along the riverbank.

The autumn river flowed like silk brocade, and where water met sky, thin mist formed.

I saw a small boat with a single figure in plain clothes sitting quietly, rowing slowly toward the river’s center.

Who else could it be but Nie Ran?

But why was he alone? Wasn’t he supposed to leave with his subordinates?

Feeling uneasy, I instinctively strode forward, then saw Nie Ran throw his long oar into the water and slowly stand up.

What was he doing?

The next instant, I clearly saw the torch in his hand as he gently placed it on the boat—

A point of scarlet light suddenly burst into roaring flames!

“No!” I cried out in disbelief: “You can’t!”

The small boat seemed filled with oil-soaked straw. The fire spread with the wind, and within moments, the entire small boat was engulfed in a sea of flames.

I stared ahead in horror. Thinking back to last night, how had I failed to see through all those signs?

His entire life had been lived for kingdom restoration, bearing too much, too much. But in the end, all the clansmen who followed him had died for him, yet not on the path of restoration.

How could he bear to live alone!

I felt that ball of flame burning chaotically in my heart, but I could stop nothing. I could only stumble into the river water, shouting with all my might, hoping he could hear, hoping he would change his mind and not walk this path of no return.

In the fire’s glow, that refined silhouette still stood quietly, as if the swirling heat didn’t affect him at all. He took up the jade flute and played with slightly bowed head.

The flute’s sound was clear and gentle, flowing quietly forth like the warm morning sun, like a clear breeze under the moon.

Once, the person who composed this melody told me: “Gentle and warm, Xu follows He—wherever the wind blows is my direction.”

Gentle Wind and Moon—this was Xu Fang and He Feng’s promise under moonlight.

With the next sliding note, my breathing almost stopped in that instant.

It was him.

The melody continued endlessly, expressing emotion through music—this was the second half of Gentle Wind and Moon.

The half I couldn’t continue singing in the forest, the half I lied to Nie Ran about no longer remembering.

It had always… been him.

“Xu Fang…”

“Xu Fang!!!”

My vision began to blur. I collapsed into the water, calling his name over and over, but except for the melody, I heard no response.

The music asked: Do you still remember those March peach blossoms, that clear moonlit night, leaning shoulder to shoulder, keeping each other company?

Just a few journeys, a few intoxications, a few farewells—ultimately unable to keep that dream of youth.

That brilliant crimson firelight stained the clouds at heaven’s edge red. That melody of Gentle Wind and Moon became the final soul-calming tune.

When the music ended, the river surface returned to tranquility. The eastern sunrise fully rose—another new day.

But in this world, there was no more Xu Fang.