On the rainy night of Qingming, ten thousand people summoned the soul.

Ni Su always felt she was dreaming, dreaming a dream about him—from Que County to Yun Jing, then from Yun Jing to Yongzhou, and finally from Yongzhou back to Yun Jing.

Just two short years.

Compared to the length of her life, these were merely insignificant two years. Yet her two years were the opportunity a solitary soul had endured a hundred years of torment in the netherworld waiting for.

She had anticipated this day for him, but when she truly found herself in this day, she discovered it wasn’t the imagined clearing after clouds and rain—the sky was still raining, and standing beneath the eaves corridor looking up, she couldn’t even see a single star.

“Xu Hexue!”

“Soul, return!”

The rain pattered, flowing along the roof tiles. Atop the high roof, Meng Yunxian’s voice was almost drowned out by the commoners’ shouts.

In the dim light and shadow, completely soaked, he continuously waved that cloak with both hands. Rain soaked his graying hair, veins bulged in his neck as he exerted all his strength: “Xu Hexue! From the four corners of heaven and earth, depart from that which is inauspicious, return to your former dwelling, return to your former dwelling…”

Crying gradually rose. There were commoners holding lanterns, willing to let themselves be drenched rather than let rainwater extinguish their candle flames; there were academy students and candidates in the capital waiting for the autumn examinations.

Jiang Xianming looked up, his eye sockets stinging, but heard He Tong beside him suddenly cry out. Originally he could still suppress it, but the more He Tong heard Meng Yunxian’s repeated calls, the more severe the dull pain in his heart became.

He crouched down and wept bitterly.

Sixteen years late—

A full sixteen years—how could there possibly still be a soul to summon back?

“He must hate us so much…”

He Tong’s voice carried a sob. “We’re too late, truly too late… What face do we have to ask him to return?”

Jiang Xianming’s throat was terribly dry. He wiped the rainwater from his face, not knowing how to tell He Tong that person had actually returned.

“He doesn’t hate.”

Jiang Xianming tightly clenched his knuckles. “He wouldn’t even hate me… how could he hate you?”

His voice drowned in the rain. He Tong cried without composure. His wife stood beside him holding an umbrella, coming over to comfort him with a few words, but unexpectedly her gentle soft words made He Tong’s tears even more unstoppable.

When had Pei Zhiyuan ever seen him in such a state, unable to control his tears and snot? Though his heart also felt unbearably pained, he still bent down to help him up. “At least you’re an official—do you want to save face or not, Scholar He?”

“What face? What face do I have left!”

He Tong messily wiped his face with his wife’s handkerchief, his eyelids red from being struck by rainwater. “As his senior fellow student, I’ve wronged him my entire life.”

The rain fell all night. The commoners outside Princess Wenduan’s mansion gate were reluctant to leave. Meng Yunxian changed his clothes and sat with Ni Su on the spirit hall’s threshold, holding hot soup his wife Jiang Shao had personally made.

“Your injuries—are they better?”

As the rain gradually lessened, Meng Yunxian spoke, his voice severely hoarse.

“Much better.”

Hot mist drifted gently. Ni Su gazed at raindrops dripping from the roof tiles. “Thank you for your concern.”

“In the past, he loved eating at my home with me very much.” Meng Yunxian looked at her pale profile, taking the initiative to speak of the past with her. “He was very proper before Chongzhi, but young people always have some unruly exuberance. I wasn’t as strict as his teacher, so before me he was much more relaxed. I wasn’t his teacher, but he was someone Chongzhi and I watched together, from age seven growing to that age.”

“He loved the food A’Shao made very much. A’Shao said you also love it very much. Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Ni Su nodded. “My cooking is never as delicious. During the time Madam has stayed at my house, Qingqiong and I have both been very fortunate in our meals.”

Meng Yunxian took a sip of hot soup. His throat felt somewhat better. “If you like it, that’s good. From now on, why don’t you stay at my manor? A’Shao likes you. She even told me she wants to take you as her goddaughter. This way, we’ll all live together as one family.”

These three words “one family” stirred Ni Su’s heart. She turned her face. “I know you and Madam treat me well. To become family with you—I’m very willing in my heart. But I’m afraid I cannot remain in Yun Jing.”

Meng Yunxian quickly asked, “Where do you want to go?”

“I want to first cure Commoner Li’s illness.”

Ni Su thought for a moment and said, “Then return to Que County. I want to bring my elder brother’s ashes back to be buried. I also have a maid called Xing Zhu—I want to go see her.”

“After that, I don’t know where I’ll go either. I’ll just be a traveling physician, treating hidden ailments for women in the world, letting them not suffer from this, not feel shame from this.”

Raindrops dripped steadily from between the roof tiles. Meng Yunxian fell silent for a long while, then said, “For a young lady like you, no wonder Ziling’s heart was concerned. If only he were still here.”

“He’s always been here.”

Ni Su raised her head. The roof ornament had been washed clean as new by a night of rain. The sky was misty, showing an ashen blue color. “Every clear night with stars, when you raise your head, you can not only see him but also see his teacher, your good friend.”

Meng Yunxian couldn’t help but raise his head following her words.

Misty colors filled the courtyard. The sound of footsteps approached. Meng Yunxian focused his eyes—it was actually Rong Sheng and others in regular clothing, surrounding the Crown Prince.

Zhao Yi saw that cloak draped over the corridor railing—the black beast fur collar, the silver-threaded crane embroidery. His steps became heavy and slow.

Ni Su held her bowl and stood up with one hand supporting the door frame.

“Commoner woman Ni Su pays respects to the Crown Prince.”

Ni Su bowed with lowered head.

Zhao Yi suddenly turned around. “You… how do you have this cloak?”

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

Zhao Yi stared at her intently.

“That night—the night I was attacked, right?”

Zhao Yi walked toward her step by step. “A white horse, a man and woman. The woman was you, then he…”

He repeatedly dreamed of that night—drifting snow, thick ice, clusters of reed flowers dancing. That white-robed person wearing a veiled hat, sword in hand, advising him to take care.

“Two years ago, at Que County’s Great Bell Temple, I once saw a memorial text. Beneath the memorial text was a winter garment.”

Ni Su didn’t answer him but said, “I burned that winter garment.”

Zhao Yi quickly ascended the steps and spread open that soaked cloak. The two characters “Ziling” at the sleeve cuff came into view, stinging his eyes painfully. “Since you burned it, then what is this…”

He recognized his beloved wife Xizhen’s calligraphy.

“That night—it was him, wasn’t it?”

What an absurd thought, yet Zhao Yi couldn’t help thinking it.

“Yes.”

Ni Su nodded.

Hearing this confirmation, Zhao Yi staggered back two steps. Rong Sheng reached out to support him, but he blocked his hand. He realized that the night he killed Pan Youfang, the figure he saw dissipating like mist was not a hallucination at all.

“Ziling!”

Zhao Yi looked around. “Ziling! I’m Yonggeng! Come out and see me…”

He rushed into the spirit hall. Inside the coffin was only a rust-stained broken spear. The oil lamp flames flickered. His eyelids reddened. “Xu Ziling, I’m Zhao Yonggeng…”

“Your Highness!”

Meng Yunxian couldn’t help but call to him. “Ziling has… already departed.”

Zhao Yi froze abruptly. He turned around. Moist morning wind came face-on. He murmured, “Departed?”

Three people sat on the threshold. Prolonged silence.

Zhao Yi suddenly spoke. “Why was he unwilling to acknowledge me?”

“He didn’t want Your Highness to grieve and suffer for him again.”

Ni Su said softly.

Zhao Yi’s throat tightened. “But, but…”

“I must thank Your Highness.”

Ni Su handed him a bowl of hot soup. “If Your Highness and Lord Ge and the others hadn’t risked your lives, willing to execute Pan Youfang and Wu Dai for him, he would have truly disappeared.”

“Even as a ghost, though he can no longer meet with us living people, we all know he’s still well.”

Zhao Yi’s voice choked. “Then, can he see everything happening now?”

“Of course he can see it.”

Ni Su said with certainty. “He always told me he didn’t care about his posthumous reputation. But I always wanted to seek it for him. Now, Your Highness and all of you are seeking it for him. Sixteen years—originally there weren’t many people left under heaven who remembered him, cared about him. Without you, going forward, who would care whether beneath his sullied name there was injustice or not?”

“Today ten thousand people summoned his soul because Your Highness became Heir Apparent, because Minister Meng and the others risked your very lives to reopen his case, and also because of Censor Jiang’s ‘Snow of Green Cliff’ and Scholar He’s ‘Rhapsody for Summoning Souls.’ He once died because of public sentiment, and now because of public sentiment his grievances are vindicated.”

“But I know—not one person among you feels satisfied. Neither do I.”

“Because he’s already dead.”

The soup in Ni Su’s hand had already gone cold. “Your Highness is now Heir Apparent. I still want to say some words to you.”

“What?”

Zhao Yi wiped his face.

“Your Highness should now also clearly see what public sentiment is. When held in the hands of those in power, whether it kills an innocent person or kills one full of evil—neither is their fault.”

Ni Su paused. “Now it’s held in Your Highness’s hands. Please use my husband as a mirror—do not let the blade kill wronged souls again.”

“Ziling and you…”

Shock floated in Zhao Yi’s tear-filled eyes.

A clear breeze came. Ni Su tucked the stray hair at her cheek behind her ear and smiled. “I apologize to Your Highness that we couldn’t invite you to drink a cup of wedding wine then.”

A eunuch came running hurriedly and whispered a few words in Rong Sheng’s ear. Rong Sheng’s expression changed. He immediately came over and said carefully, “Your Highness, the Emperor is likely not well… You should quickly return to the palace?”

As an Eastern Palace Chief Minister, hearing these words, Meng Yunxian knew he should also return to his manor to change into official robes and enter the palace.

Zhao Yi and Meng Yunxian walked down the steps. After only a few steps, he suddenly stopped and turned his head. “I bestow Princess Wenduan’s mansion to you.”

Ni Su froze, about to refuse, but her gaze stopped on the wall of roses not far away—dew crystalline and translucent among the brilliant flower stamens, fallen petals covering the ground.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

In the end, she bowed.

But Zhao Yi shook his head. “It’s I who should thank you. Without you, Xizhen’s illness would have been beyond help.”

The Princess’s mansion hadn’t yet cleaned out a habitable bedroom. Jiang Shao had just returned from delivering hot soup to those commoners when she and Qingqiong together brought Ni Su back to the clinic on South Locust Street.

Having not slept all night, after Jiang Shao helped Ni Su change clothes, she had her lie down to rest.

Outside there was no rain sound. Beyond the half-open lattice window, willow branches danced in the wind like silk ribbons. Ni Su stared at them for only a short while before drowsiness overtook her.

In the quiet room, the offering fruit on the incense table suddenly rolled down.

The beast pearl emitted light, shook off the incense ash on its body, and soundlessly descended to her pillow’s edge.

Thick fog, reed flowers, the vast Water of Resentment.

Dark clouds massed at the horizon, lightning and thunder crashing. A pagoda appeared and disappeared among the clouds, soul fires flickering within, flashing bright light.

Beside the Water of Resentment, that figure wore the clothes she had made, but they weren’t clean at all—the garment hems were stained with blood, shockingly red.

He gazed toward the sea of clouds. The cold light of lightning occasionally fell upon him.

The pagoda’s mournful wails were shrill. Thick turbid black energy surged out, sweeping toward the riverbank like a hurricane. The reed flower clusters rustled, scattered soul fires being torn apart, gathered together.

No matter how the soul fires struggled, they couldn’t escape the grip of resentful energy.

Atop the pagoda, golden bells rang.

He stood quietly by the shore watching—

Until countless soul fires swept out from the pagoda’s peak. They condensed into indistinct figures one after another—unfamiliar faces bearing injuries and blood, wearing damaged armor, holding weapons, military discipline strict.

The golden bells continued ringing.

He and they gazed at each other across the water.

“General!”

“General!”

“General!”

The shouts of thirty thousand people shook this entire realm. Every one of them stood with straight backs, standing tall between heaven and earth.

“Where are my sons of Jing’an!”

When the young general spoke, his voice was severe.

“The Jing’an Army is here!”

Thirty thousand voices shook the heavens in unison.

The young general looked at each one of them. “We once lived and died together, killing countless enemies. You are my Xu Hexue’s finest soldiers! I am honored to have you as my troops. While living, I couldn’t protect you, causing you to bear infamy and die with me. After death, you were trapped in the pagoda because your resentment couldn’t dissipate. Fortunately now, the resentment is removed. You all should enter the cycle of reincarnation.”

With a wave of his hand, thirty thousand heroic souls transformed into droplets of soul fire, floating across the Water of Resentment toward him.

Every drop of soul fire reluctantly tugged at his garment hems, floating around him. Cold mist swirled. Soul fires gathered into the figure of a person.

His body was full of holes left by arrows, his form tall and imposing.

“Little Scholar.”

This call nearly brought tears to Xu Hexue’s eyes. “Xue Huai.”

“When alive I never gave you peace of mind.”

Xue Huai’s face still bore mottled blood. “I didn’t expect that after death, I’d still make you grieve for us. We’ve wronged you, General.”

“It was I who couldn’t protect you.”

Xu Hexue took two steps forward.

“The General is the finest general in my heart.” Xue Huai’s eyes reddened, but he still showed him a stiff smile. “Though we got into a fight when we first met, those years following by your side—I fought battles joyfully. I admired you. Following by your side, I never regretted it.”

“You were also my finest vice general.”

Xu Hexue said.

“Having your words makes my heart very happy.”

Xue Huai’s figure grew increasingly faint. “If there’s a next life, I’d still be willing to be a son of the frontier. If I could meet you again, I’d still be your vice general. To hell with ruler and father—I fight only for the people and the land!”

The soul fires surrounding Xu Hexue gradually dispersed. The old friend’s voice and appearance were no more. He stood quietly alone among the reed flowers.

“General Jade Token, you too should return to where you ought to return.”

An aged, heavy voice descended, almost echoing through Ni Su’s entire dream. That figure dissipated. The pagoda and Water of Resentment were shattered by thunder.

She abruptly opened her eyes.

The room was dim.

This sleep—she had actually slept from daylight into night.

She panted violently. The blue gauze curtain in the room moved with the wind. She heard faint sounds. Moonlight spread along the half-open lattice window. She raised her eyelids and saw the paper kite on the writing desk lifted by this gust of strong wind.

She immediately got up without even bothering with shoes and socks, pushed aside the curtain to retrieve the kite.

She placed the kite back on the desk and turned around. Outside, the moonlight was perfect, the sky full of stars.

With a creak, she opened the door and stood barefoot beneath the eaves corridor. Lanterns were lit in the courtyard. All around was silent. She raised her head—the sky full of stars like a vast river.

She worked hard to distinguish among them, trying to find the brightest one.

Ni Su searched for a long time and saw two stars close together. They were almost equally bright and sparkling, while other stars around them were much dimmer.

Was it him?

Was it him and his teacher?

They must have met in heaven.

“Xu Ziling, I should probably grow to hate rain.”

Ni Su gazed at the night sky. “You’d better let me see you every day. From now on, we two—one in heaven, one on earth—we’ll both live well.”

Shuangge and Little Jujube breathed in the stable, hooves trampling back and forth on the ground.

Ni Su brought out a copper basin, used firewood to kindle a fire within it, then sat on the steps. In her arms was that garment she had first made for him to wear.

Snow-white satin with extremely beautiful pale gold hidden flower patterns.

And a vermillion inner robe.

He loved this one very much, yet always feared dirtying it.

The fire in the copper basin burned more and more vigorously. Ni Su dipped her brush in ink, stared at the clean paper for a long time, then put brush to paper:

“Your mortal wife Ni Su devoutly prepares winter clothing, offered to my husband Xu Hexue.”

She blew on the wet ink marks, placed it inside the robes. Sparks splattered with crackling sounds. The instant she released her hands, the garments fell into the fire basin. Flames devoured the fabric, burning up the memorial text.

The flames scorched Ni Su’s cheeks until they felt hot. She sat on the steps, her eyelids silently moistening.

Suddenly, the delicate sound of golden bells rang softly.

Ni Su seemed stung by this sound. Then the night wind suddenly turned fierce, blowing the fire tongues in the copper basin before her high.

Cold mist rose abruptly. Ni Su wanted to stand but nearly couldn’t remain steady. She supported herself against the corridor pillar to recover, but this sudden gust blew so she could barely open her eyes.

Icy coolness dripped bit by bit onto her collar. Ni Su forced her eyes open. The instant the courtyard lantern was blown out, she saw clearly the snow particles on the back of her hand.

Ni Su jerked her head up.

Moonlight like silk, falling snow like threads.

She opened her eyes wide. Snow covering her neck and shoulders stimulated her senses. Moonlight fell into the vast cold mist, condensing into a tall slender figure.

Snow-white garment hems, vermillion collar, deep black hair.

Such a pale, refined countenance.

“A’Xi.”