"Could it be that I'm growing old? These past ten years seem to have passed even faster than the previous twenty." The lean, sinewy right hand picked up a bronze pick to trim the lamp wick. The flame crackled softly, releasing the rich, intoxicating fragrance of ambergris.
The person across made no reply, merely pondering as they held a black Go stone. The room was utterly silent. After a long while, a crisp sound broke the stillness—the black stone had finally been placed on the board, intruding into white's territory to become an isolated stone. The one who had made the move wore a white robe patterned with arabesques, appearing no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, with sun-kissed golden skin and long eyebrows that swept toward the temples. They seemed an exceptionally handsome youth, yet also bore the striking aura of a valiant maiden—truly enigmatic.
"That move was too hasty. Go must follow principles; one cannot force without reason. When entering enemy territory, one should proceed gradually," remarked the lamp-trimmer as he set down the bronze pick.
The youth in white pursed their lips into a smile, a delicate beauty shimmering within their heroic demeanor. "Rather abandon several stones than lose the initiative—isn't that what you've always taught me, Father? Now that you cannot confidently capture my stones nor tolerate my advancing freely, what will you do?" The man across the board had sharp, refined features and a calm, mature presence, yet the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled revealed the passage of years.
After a moment's contemplation, the man made a blocking move.
Without hesitation, the youth placed another stone.
The man lightly tapped the board with his right index finger.
Seeing the indicated position, the youth's expression shifted slightly, yet they stubbornly argued, "The game isn't over yet. If we're counting by half-points, I might not necessarily lose." Hearing this, the man lifted his gaze, the half-inch scar by the right corner of his mouth quirking upward, sketching a ambiguous smile on his dignified and gentle face. "That's precisely why, Haishi, I fear you are still too impetuous. If you find the position of Huangquan Battalion's lieutenant commander uncomfortable, it might be better to return to the capital, and I can arrange another path for you." Haishi twisted a Go stone between their fingers, remaining silent.
A respectful knock sounded at the door, and Zhuoying's voice came from outside, "Haishi, the robes you ordered have arrived. The Weaving Workshop awaits your response." Haishi set down the stone and declared, "Father, if I cannot marry the one I wish to, then I would rather remain beyond the pass, living freely for a lifetime, and never return to Tianqi." A vertical furrow briefly appeared between the man's brows before vanishing. He kept his eyes lowered, his right hand lightly tapping a stone against the board, unwilling to make a move.
Haishi pushed back their chair, stood up, and opened the door to leave the study, where Zhuoying was waiting outside. The man watched as the two walked side by side into the night, finally releasing a silent, long sigh. He opened his right hand—a bizarre new wound had inexplicably appeared in his palm.
A trail of blood abruptly traced across the intricate lines of his palm, dripping onto his blue robe with a soft patter, staining it with an ominous reddish-brown.
As Haishi and Zhuoying walked side by side toward the front courtyard of Jifeng Hall,
palace attendants from other areas, coming to deliver gifts to Jifeng Hall, caught sight of the pair from a distance and invariably stepped aside, bowing with their sleeves respectfully gathered. Whispers, carried by the wind, reached the ears of the two martial-trained individuals: "Are those Chief Eunuch Fang's two adopted children? Hehe, indeed the elder is imposing and the younger is exquisitely handsome. If they were eunuchs, perhaps they could form a 'paired meal'..." A "paired meal" referred to palace attendants and eunuchs living together as husband and wife, merely to alleviate loneliness."Well now, you've got no ambition at all! Fang Zhuoying's serving in the Imperial Guard these days. If only they'd release us from palace service to marry someday." Haishi teased Zhuoying, watching as his fair complexion flushed slightly pink. He strode forward with unusually large steps, as if trying to leave those idle remarks behind. Yet they still faintly heard—"What a pity that young Fang Haishi just received his appointment—he's being sent to the northern frontier. We won't get to see him much after this. Ah, better to form a pair and share meals." This time, a faint blush showed through Haishi's wheat-colored skin. Forgetting his own earlier embarrassment, Zhuoying smiled silently.
Extremely flustered, Haishi grumbled resentfully, "When I first entered the palace, I asked everyone what 'paired dining' meant. Someone actually told me it was just a man and woman eating meals together—and now they're all acting so worldly-wise." Zhuoying laughed heartily, and the two quickened their pace toward the front hall.
The head of the Weaving Workshop, Shi Lin, saw them coming and hastily set down his teacup, rising to bow without further ceremony. He pulled a garment from silk paper wrapping and shook it out, his doughy face beaming with pride.
"Oh, Uncle Shi, you're so biased!" Zhuoying blurted out.
It was a smoke-gray satin short robe with archer's sleeves, clearly tailored to Haishi's measurements. Across its back, various blue and purple threads embroidered a fierce goshawk—every feather, claw, and beak rendered with vivid realism, its eyes dotted with emerald green that sparkled with life. Since the Chief Eunuch Fang Zhu had gained influence, his two adopted sons rose accordingly: the elder entered the Imperial Guard eight years ago, receiving the rank of sixth-grade Qianqi Cavalry Commander before turning twenty-four; the younger placed third in this year's military examinations and was appointed Adjutant of the Yellow Springs Battalion at the northern frontier. The Weaving Workshop had always curried favor diligently, ensuring all their clothing and bedding featured the finest tailoring and needlework.
Haishi grew embarrassed. "This robe is quite handsome, but Uncle Shi has dressed me like an opera performer. When I get to Yellow Springs Pass, people will laugh at me—how will I command troops then?" Shi Lin urged Haishi to try it on right away. Accepting the garment, Haishi retreated to a side room to change.
Zhuoying's outfit was the formal sixth-grade court robe of the Qianqi Cavalry Commander: black background embroidered with a scarlet-purple Feilian divine beast, its lower hem edged with blue, green, and white wave patterns. Since Zhuoying already wore close-fitting archer-sleeved robes, he simply donned the court robe over them in the main hall. It fit perfectly, accentuating his tall, slender frame. Without his military crown, he fastened only the five-colored silk cords, which complemented his fair skin, high nose, and deep-set eyes—altogether magnificent.
As they admired him, Haishi emerged from the side room. The short robe cinched neatly at the youth's slim waist, highlighting his elegant build. His complexion, darker than Zhuoying's, glowed handsomely, while the embroidered goshawk on his back seemed to come alive, its sharp eyes fixed piercingly ahead.
"A while back, Prince Chang wandered into my workshop and saw Zheliu's embroidery draft. He insisted Zheliu had modeled it after his own goshawk and that this robe should go to him. Hah! Never mind that ancestral rules forbid bringing hawks and hounds into the palace—even if they allowed it, how could Zheliu have seen the bird? I coaxed and wheedled, explaining this piece used fine copper threads tribute from the Kingdom of Zhunian in southwestern Leizhou. Though shiny and beautiful, they're quite heavy and rough against the skin. Fine for a military officer, but utterly unbefitting Prince Chang's noble bearing. Better to wait for new silk to be spun and have Zheliu embroider something soft, dense, and lifelike for him. After all that flattery, he finally felt pleased. That prince..." Shi Lin chattered on while refolding the garment.Haishi could not respond to his words and could only manage a faint smile. Emperor Xu still had no heirs, and his only younger brother, Prince Chang, was frivolous and extravagant, unfit for any great responsibility. The vast empire had been unified for only fourteen years since the chaos and division. If anything were to happen to Emperor Xu, there would be no one worthy of succession.
Zhuoying said nothing, merely reaching out to stroke the goshawk embroidered on Haishi's back. The fierce bird seemed as though it might tear through the silk and emerge, its spirit radiant.
Shi Lin smiled and said, "I dare not neglect the young master. The Feilian on your robe was also crafted by Zheliu. That girl has put her heart and soul into the garments for you two young masters, working tirelessly alone in a dimly lit room, embroidering day and night." "That won't do! What if she falls ill from exhaustion?" Zhuoying blurted out.
Haishi turned around and fixed her gaze on Zhuoying, smiling without a word until his fair cheeks flushed crimson.
"Young master, you will accompany the troops to the defense of Huangquan Pass tomorrow. Outsiders are not permitted to see you off, so I offer my blessings here in advance. Please also convey my regards to Eunuch Fang on behalf of both of you. I shall take my leave now." After his rambling speech, Shi Lin cupped his hands, turned his stout and stocky frame, and retreated through the door.
Thick, emerald-green water flowed between her fingers and through her hair, while countless shimmering, silver-like bubbles drifted upward in a murmuring stream.
Yet she was sinking, trapped in the viscous, soundless, and lightless seawater, as if pulled by an invisible hand, slowly descending into the unfathomable, pitch-dark depths, never reaching the seabed.
Haishi looked up blankly. The murky green surface of the sea resembled a sky of a different hue, growing higher and higher, gradually beyond reach. A massive, steel-blue figure glided silently past her and vanished into the deep darkness. A thread of crimson spread like silk, swaying with the water's motion and brushing against her cheeks, leaving a cold, slimy sensation.
Langhuan reached out to her, her exquisitely beautiful face etched with anxiety.
Haishi strained to reach for Langhuan as well, but her hands only grasped empty water, and she continued to sink slowly and irreversibly. Despairingly, she stared at her own hands—small and soft, as if she had returned to her childhood. In the dimness, a faint white light glowed in her palms, stroke by stroke, on the verge of completing two elegantly written characters.
Haishi abruptly opened her eyes, her hands and feet icy cold, as a chilly breeze brushed her face like water. Ten years had passed, yet this nightmare still haunted her.
She shifted slightly on her pillow and saw the bedroom window wide open. In the vast night, countless lights flowed like rivers, tracing the outlines of the two imperial avenues, Yong'an and Yongle.
"It's time to get up," Fang Zhu said, turning from the window. He was dressed in his formal court attire, adorned with patterns of pale green vines and grass.
Haishi remained silent for a moment before murmuring, "I had the dream again." "Aren't you too old to be afraid of nightmares?" the man replied with a slight smile.
Haishi lowered her head and glanced at her palms, which showed no unusual signs. Finally, she draped her clothes over her shoulders, rose, and walked over to stand beside him. The regular five-year rotation for the Huangquan, Chengcheng, and Wuwei garrisons was approaching. With the border tensions this year, an additional thirty thousand troops had been deployed to each garrison, totaling one hundred eighty thousand soldiers. They were to be reviewed outside the Zhuque Gate early the next morning. The capital, Tianqi, already a city that never slept, grew even more clamorous.In the final years of the Duan Dynasty, the Right Jin tribe of the Northern Plains once again breached Tianqi. Following this, the Western Duan Army, the Imperial Loyalist Army, and various rebel forces and roving bandits engaged in repeated battles for control. By the thirteenth year of the Weiping era, the once majestic and solemn ancient capital of a thousand years had been ravaged beyond recognition. On the day the last hidden emperor of the Duan Dynasty, Mu Yun Sheng, finally withdrew from Tianqi, the autumn sky was high and the winds fierce. In the afternoon, a fire broke out from an unknown source, and by dawn the next day, the flames in the city illuminated the land for a hundred miles. Gazing north from the Shangyang Pass, the entire imperial basin was shrouded in dust and ash, with only Tianqi City glowing like a leaping crimson—a massive, venomous, and dazzling man-eating flower blooming explosively amidst the desolate haze. The Yinglin Palace, which Mu Yun Sheng had painstakingly supervised and built, was not spared either. The mica, cool wave silver, and gold-inlaid jade and other precious decorations that paved its halls—despite being plundered by tens of thousands of rebel soldiers and refugees throughout the night—only one or two out of ten were salvaged from the flames.
The capital of the Zheng Dynasty was also established in Tianqi, but this Tianqi was a new city rising from scorched earth. The old Tianqi, along with the legendary paper-adding, incense-burning painting demons deep within the Yinglin Palace, and the entire Duan Dynasty itself, had all turned into rubble and charred remains, buried deep beneath the new Tianqi City. The extraordinarily magnificent and ingeniously crafted Yinglin Palace, which had consumed the lives of countless artisans, stood in Tianqi for only a few short years. Yet, its mirage-like beauty and the rivers of blood beneath its foundations were enough to leave an indelible memory.
She sighed softly. On that night when the city was engulfed in flames, the sky must have looked much like this, she thought. The palace was restless too. The Forbidden City was densely planted with maple and sumac trees, and when autumn reached its peak, clusters of crimson and vermilion burned like fiery clouds against the deep azure sky, reflecting off the black and white palace halls and pavilions. In the solemn silence, an intense beauty emerged. Now, in the night, glass lanterns weaved through the palace like a tapestry, their light casting swaying shadows and illuminating the vibrant, translucent red leaves. Only the Golden City Palace, where Emperor Xu resided, stood in solitude. Although the court officials had already risen and prepared, they mostly knew that Emperor Xu would, as usual, not attend the military review the next day. Yet, it was hard to say if he might change his mind and decide to make an appearance at the Zhuque Gate. Thus, throughout the vast Tianqi, troops and horses were mobilized all night, and cleaning and preparations continued, lest any oversight occur.
"All this commotion for the emperor's uncertain whim—and yet, it is truly beautiful," Haishi sighed.
"You should get ready too. At the stroke of midnight, you must enter the camp to deploy troops and line up at the Zhuque Gate. Though the old general will look after you, you must not slack off," came the reminder. Haishi's court attire, the uniform of a junior eighth-rank military official, along with five layers of inner robes in shades of blue from light to dark, were neatly laid out by the bedside. She shook out the innermost smoke-blue robe and draped it over herself, attempting to cross the silk ties of the inner lapel behind her back. Since the age of six, she had disguised herself as a boy and refused any close personal assistance. Yet, the court attire was layered and intricate, making it extremely difficult to don without help.
"Father..." Haishi called out hesitantly. The night breeze combed through her waist-length flowing hair, and her usually androgynous features now appeared exquisitely and unmistakably feminine.Fang Zhu turned his head aside and said, "I'll have Zhuoying come help you pack." Haishi smiled faintly. "You've always treated Haishi as a boy, not a girl."
"Even though you've spent ten years practicing martial arts, hunting, and roughhousing with Zhuoying, you're still a girl at heart. I blame myself for letting you grow up wild. When you return from the army, we must properly select a family for you and see you married off." Haishi held back tears welling in her eyes and said with a smile, "When Father serves at the palace, don't you often attend to the noble ladies' needs? Brother Zhuoying is, after all, a man—it would be improper by etiquette. Please help me instead, Father."
"After all, a man." To a eunuch's ears, there could be no sharper sarcasm.
But in Fang Zhu's eyes, it was as if a mirror lake had frozen over—utterly unreadable. He simply moved behind Haishi and tightened her robe sash for her.
It was the deepest hour of night, with the cool breeze of the Cold Dew solar term blowing. Somewhere in the palace, someone whiling away the long night plucked a pipa, the notes faint and sporadic. Haishi spread her arms like an exquisite doll, allowing him to layer her in gauze and brocade garments. His fingers, gently touching her cheeks, were steady and warm. Even when a burning, heavy teardrop shattered directly on his hand, it only made his hands pause briefly without trembling.
He meticulously bound up her ebony hair, covering it with a black satin military official's cap. The five-colored silk ties were fastened one by one beneath her chin. Finally, he hung the saber and the gold-inlaid Suanni waist token at her hip. The tassel of the waist token was strung with three soybean-sized pearls that glimmered faintly in the dim light. Haishi recognized them—they came from the peck of pearls given to her by mermaids in her childhood.
When she pressed her lips together and turned back around, she had clearly become the image of a brave and handsome young military officer, her gaze sharp as frost, without a trace of lingering softness.
After seeing Haishi off with Zhuoying, Fang Zhu headed to the Golden City Palace to prepare for Emperor Xu's rising.
At mid-morning, word came from the palace that the Emperor, weary from reviewing memorials the previous night, would not be inspecting the troops at the Vermilion Bird Gate today.
Before dawn, the world was like splattered ink. One hundred eighty thousand elite soldiers knelt and shouted "Long live the Emperor!" in a mountainous roar. For ten li, the clashing of battle-axes echoed, torches lined the city walls, and the rise and fall of armor resembled dark ocean waves surging. Led by banners, the army divisions departed Tianqi in order: the Wuwei Battalion heading west through Hexi to Jun Pass, the Chengcheng Battalion to Mohe Pass, and the Huangquan Battalion westward to Huangquan Pass, each rotating their garrison duties.
When they reached the Qiyue Pass, Haishi reined in her horse. North of Tianqi, the Mingluo Mountains curved like a strong bow, forming a natural barrier for the imperial capital's basin. Only this broad pass at the ridge's center allowed passage, directly facing Huangquan Pass across the sea. "Once we pass here, we won't see Tianqi anymore. When I first went to the Huangquan Battalion at fifteen, I was just a lowly foot soldier. I cried when I reached this spot," said Zhang Chengqian, riding alongside Haishi, his eyes gazing at the sky. Zhang Chengqian was about thirty-two or thirty-three, a staff officer sent from the Huangquan Battalion headquarters to handle rosters and provisions.
"What, were you scared back then, Brother Zhang?" Haishi responded casually.Zhang Chengqian grinned, revealing a row of white teeth. "Not at all. Finally, I don’t have to learn butchering from my father back in the village—I can go to war and earn merits. Just thinking about it makes me so happy I could cry." The grand capital remained in its deep slumber, and in the dawn light, the crimson maples outside the Chengji Gate shimmered like mist. Perhaps this would be the last time he’d see the red leaves of the imperial city. So be it. After saying such harsh words, what would it matter even if they met again? Haishi laughed mockingly at herself, turned her horse around, and urged it into a trot as she rounded the pass, leaving Tianqi behind the mountains.
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