Chasing Dreams

After the Sweet Rain Rite in the late spring of the thirty-third year of Lintai, Tilan kept having the same inexplicable dream.

It was a woman from the Eastern Continent. Two steel-tipped arrows pierced messily through her heart as she leaped decisively from a towering city wall. Her brilliant silk robes trailed behind her like a flame that refused to be extinguished, all the way until she hit the ground.

Tilan would always jolt awake abruptly in the night, repeatedly recalling that face—its features vivid and distinct, yet one she had never seen before.

Those chaotic dreams carved fissures across the dark curtain of time, allowing her a glimpse into a corner of the future. Yet, who she saw or what circumstances unfolded were not hers to choose.

Days flew by. The rebel army of the usurper king had lost their last stronghold in Ranzhou and were forced to risk a desperate march across the Eastern Continent. Their forces suffered heavy losses as they fled to the northwest of Zhongzhou, putting up a stubborn last stand. The world under Chu Zhongxu was almost settled. In the first month of the thirty-fourth year of Lintai, the remnants of the usurper Chu Fengyi’s army crossed the sea northward. His half-sister, Princess Hongyao, who had married into the Huku tribe of the northern deserts years earlier, led her troops south, breaking through the Huangquan Pass to rendezvous with him. Just as Chu Fengyi was about to escape into the barbarian territories, Prince Xu, Chu Zhongxu, and the Duke of Qinghai, Fang Jianming, led the royal army in a full pursuit.

For eight long years, the land of the Eastern Continent had swallowed the bones, blood, and decaying flesh of hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians. No matter how greedy and bloodthirsty it was, it must have been nearly sated by now. In contrast, the nations of the Western Continent enjoyed peace and prosperity, profiting handsomely from the sale of weapons, armor, and provisions—especially Zhuni, which controlled the majority of the sea routes. The palace records for the second month only noted the lengthy preparations for the eighth birthday of Crown Prince Suolan in the third month. The liveliest event was Princess Tilan’s pair of Eastern Continent brocade-patterned raccoon dogs giving birth to a litter of pups.

One afternoon, with nothing to do, Tilan had Gongye escort her to Prince Chang’s residence for a casual chat. To her surprise, Ji Chang had been summoned earlier by someone from Great Lord Yingjia’s side, and Tang Qianzi had naturally accompanied him. After a moment’s thought, Tilan said, “I wonder how those raccoon dogs are doing. Since we’re already out, let’s take a stroll to the villa.” The servants outside the villa, seeing Tilan arrive, immediately knelt in a row on the ground. Tilan’s status was inherently noble, and as the beloved niece of Great Lord Yingjia and the only full sister of the Crown Prince, the palace staff treated her with extra deference.

“Oh? They’ve been moved outside today. Your Highness, be careful—they’re all right at your feet,” Gongye said.

Tilan smiled and bent down to stroke them. A felt mat had been spread on the grass, where the mother lay curled up, napping. Her fluffy tail encircled the downy pups, revealing only five or six tiny pink noses. The brocade-patterned raccoon dogs were tame and accustomed to her touch, lazily enjoying the attention.

Suddenly, Tilan asked doubtfully, “Huh? Why are two of the pups missing?” A palace servant replied, “The two weakest ones are afraid of the sunlight, so they’ve been kept inside.” Tilan said, “How pitiful. Gongye, help me inside to take a look.” Gongye assented, but the lead servant panicked, kowtowing and saying, “We dare not hide it from Your Highness—those two are not doing well. They look rather frightening and might startle you.” Tilan raised an eyebrow. “I said I’d take a look, but I can’t see anyway. Whatever you say they look like, that’s what they are.” The servants, knowing her temper had flared, dared not say more and could only kowtow repeatedly.Tilan stepped forward immediately, and Gongye hurried to support her hand. The person had already entered, but a light, drifting remark was left outside: "I absolutely detest being deceived with lies." The leading palace attendant remained prostrate on the ground, not daring to rise, sweat beading all over their head.

As soon as they entered the room, they heard the pitiful cries of a young creature and the splashing of water. Gongye seemed startled and sharply uttered something in the Eastern Land tongue. Another splash of water followed, and the young creature's shrill, feeble cries gradually subsided.

Unaware of the situation, Tilan still wore a smile as she asked, "What's going on?" Gongye said indignantly, "This Eastern Land woman was trying to drown the little civet in a bucket! Thanks to Your Highness's timely arrival, we were just in time to save it." "Why would she be so cruel for no reason?" Tilan exclaimed angrily.

Civets are delicate creatures, and the palace had assigned eight experienced attendants to care for them. Before the birth, two Eastern Land women had even been specially hired to tend to them. Since they didn't speak the language, whenever Tilan visited, Gongye would always interpret for her.

The woman, sensing the trouble she had caused, didn't wait for Gongye to question her. She kowtowed loudly on the ground, repeatedly shouting something in the Eastern Land tongue, as if pleading for mercy.

Tilan's heart tightened abruptly. She gripped Gongye's hand tightly, her voice trembling as she urgently pressed, "What did she say? What did she say?" Gongye replied, "This woman says that these two cubs are clearly not going to survive and will spread disease to the others. They truly cannot be kept. She begs Your Highness to understand." Tilan hissed, "The first eight words! Only the first eight words! Explain them to me, one by one!" Enduring the piercing pain in her hand, Gongye hurriedly said, "The first eight words she said were... 'Your Highness, their lives cannot be spared.'" The grip on Gongye's hand, which had felt as though it would squeeze the life out of her, slowly loosened. All the blood rushed to Tilan's temples, her vision darkened, and her heart suddenly felt as hollow as a snow cave.

She didn't understand this Eastern Land phrase, but she had remembered it for nearly ten years—the rise and fall of its tones, the cadence, all vividly etched in her mind.

On the night the city burned, six-year-old her had fled through the royal city with Suolan in her arms, with nowhere to hide. Behind thirty-two mica-inlaid, gold-rimmed screens studded with garnets, she was on one side, the young man on the other, each running desperately for their own fate. At the end of the screens, he suddenly grabbed her hand, and two unrelated threads of fate were tied into an inextricable knot. It was the first time she heard the voice of that young general, and he had spoken these words.

Later, when the pursuers were all eliminated, the little boy trembling in her arms finally loosened his grip. The surroundings were so quiet, the blood-stained soldiers encircling them, shutting out the chaotic sounds of slaughter, making her feel an unprecedented sense of safety. And he had spoken these words again.

That clear, resolute, and courageous voice, she imagined, could command ten thousand troops. Even she, a foreign girl who didn't understand the language, felt a flicker of courage each time she heard his words, gritting her teeth to suppress the urge to scream in terror again and again.

Everyone said he had saved her back then, and she had always believed it.

But it turned out what he had said was: Your Highness, her life cannot be spared.The Eastern Lu woman lay prostrate on the ground for a long while, hearing no movement. Gathering her courage, she stole a glance and saw the princess in white standing rigidly in place, her expression obscured by the silk ribbon tied over her eyes. The slave girl supporting her dared not make a sound. After what felt like a quarter of an hour, the princess finally spoke: "Then we have no choice but to kill." With that, she turned and swept away like the wind, her white skirt billowing like a fresh, full sail.

Few were permitted to approach Lord Ingacha, and Ji Chang was one of them.

The kingdom of Zhuoni had two rulers: the nominal one, who exuded a rotting stench of death year-round from behind opulent curtains; and the actual one, whose shriveled body was clad in a small brocade robe, buried deep within layers of quilts like a terrifying, monstrous infant. Every time Ji Chang saw Lord Ingacha, he couldn't help but entertain the malicious thought: It would only take one hand to strangle this man who holds sway over an entire kingdom.

After Ji Chang paid his respects, the palace attendants brought several feather cushions and helped him settle on the low couch before the bed.

"It has been two months, Your Highness, and you have grown taller," Lord Ingacha remarked, slanting his eyes toward him with a smile.

The people of Zhuoni typically had sharp features, dark skin, and large, striking eyes, but Lord Ingacha, having long been deprived of sunlight, possessed a pallid, gloomy complexion that made his blazing eyes all the more startling. Ji Chang had always detested that gaze, though he naturally revealed nothing on his face and responded with a smile, "Growing in height but not in wit—what use is that?" The lord continued to smile, then pushed himself up from the bed with a sudden effort, collapsing onto the mountain of soft pillows so that he faced Ji Chang directly. Gasping for breath, he said, "That is still good." Since falling from a horse at seventeen and breaking his spine, this was all the strength and agility he had left.Ji Chang smiled faintly, "If I could possess even one percent of Your Majesty's wisdom, that would truly be a blessing." Yingjia gazed at him thoughtfully and said, "You are such a clever child. That young general of yours is also intelligent, but in a rather foolish way." "Although Zhenchu is refined and wise, he possesses the straightforward and principled nature of a military man—nothing like my own cunning." "Wisdom and integrity? Both are rare qualities, but when placed in one person, they inevitably restrain each other. Your Highness holds him in such high regard." Ji Chang's expression turned solemn. "Zhenchu is like an elder brother and a friend to me. Without Your Majesty and him, I would have lost my life ten years ago." Yingjia glanced at him and chuckled lightly. "If anything were to happen to Your Highness in our kingdom, he would face death as well. With his duty and life intertwined, it is only natural that he serves with utmost loyalty. Once you return to the Eastern Continent, where the skies are high and the seas vast, talented individuals will flock to you like birds to the forest, all eager to serve under Your Highness. Even if the young general is not by your side for a time, there will be no shortage of people to command." For a moment, Ji Chang's breath hitched, but he quickly laughed again. "That is still far off." "Far, yet not so far," the Great Lord Yingjia nodded. "By the way, I invited Your Highness here today to discuss a serious matter. What do you think of the child Tilán?" Ji Chang's mind buzzed, but he suppressed the turmoil within and replied, "Her Highness Princess Tilán is dignified, virtuous, and possesses unparalleled beauty." "So, Your Highness does not look down upon Tilán? That puts my mind at ease." "Your Majesty, what is this...?" "Emperor Junliang had a younger sister, Princess Zizan. When you came to our Western Continent, she went to your Eastern Continent, intending to be betrothed to a prince. Later, she married your second brother, Prince Xu, as his principal consort—you are aware of this. This month, Prince Xu pursued Chu Fengyi to the Yellow Springs Pass, while Zizan remained in the royal residence at the auxiliary capital, Frost-Return City, to rest during her pregnancy. I have just received news... alas, such a radiant and delicate person has been poisoned and lost her life." The Great Lord, who had been keeping his eyes closed, now lifted his eyelids slightly to look at Ji Chang and said slowly, "I thought of sending another princess there. Since you brothers may have similar tastes, if you like her, Prince Xu would likely favor her as well." In an instant, the storm in Ji Chang's heart turned into a raging inferno, yet he smiled brightly and said, "Her Highness Tilán is of such noble status. Who but my second brother, with his imperial bearing, could be worthy of her?" "Speaking of which, the ways of the world are ever-changing. In the summer of the year before last, I heard that Prince Xu was severely wounded at the Battle of Tongping City and nearly lost his life. At that time, I thought to myself that if Prince Xu had indeed died for the kingdom, I would have no choice but to make preparations to send Your Highness, Prince Chang, back to the Eastern Continent to turn the tide. Tilán has always been closest to Your Highness, so an engagement and her accompanying you to serve would have been fitting. Who could have foreseen that Prince Xu, blessed by heaven, would survive and now stand on the verge of achieving his grand ambitions? It was Zizan who proved unfortunate. If there is any princess Your Highness favors, you need only ask me for her." "When I was six or seven, my mother arranged a marriage for me. Since she was only the daughter of a court official, it was not announced to other nations, so I suppose Your Majesty is unaware. It is rather embarrassing to admit, but amid the chaos and upheaval in the country, she has been lost to me, and I have no heart to marry another." Ji Chang continued to smile.Yingjia knew he was lying but did not press the matter, smiling as he said, "Loyal to promises and true to your word—Your Highness is truly a man of deep affection. In that case, when Your Highness returns in glory to the Eastern Continent, you might as well escort Tilan to her wedding. My envoys are all incompetents; they can handle delivering documents and gifts, but entrusting them with my precious niece would be too worrisome." Jichang bowed his head and replied, "I will not fail this duty. I will ensure the princess arrives safely in Tianqi." "Then I am at ease. Opportunities to sit and talk intimately with Your Highness like this will be no more. After King Xu ascends the throne, he will issue an edict summoning you back to the homeland—likely within a month or two. I offer my congratulations and wish you well in advance." The twenty-year-old prince lifted his gaze, peering deep into the other's eyes. It was this frail, ailing man who had once taught him that to seize fate by the throat, there were paths beyond swords and spears. In that moment, another door opened within his heart, and from it surged the blazing fire of ambition.At this moment, Ji Chang could not discern the slightest hint of his thoughts. He had no choice but to stand up and offer a solemn bow. Lord Yingjia accepted it with a smile, saying, "I am but a cripple, unable to rise and bid farewell to Your Highness. Please forgive my discourtesy." Ji Chang took two steps toward the exit but suddenly turned back, bowing deeply as he said, "There is one matter that has weighed on my mind for a long time. I have often wished to seek your counsel, yet feared overstepping my bounds."

"Pray do not hesitate. If I can offer any clarity to Your Highness, I shall hold nothing back."

"The Panxiao Rebellion has been over for nearly a decade, yet rumors in the streets have never ceased. Though veiled, they insinuate that you, my lord, usurped the throne by deceit." Ji Chang, seeing Yingjia's expression remain unchanged, gathered his courage and continued, "Why have you never refuted these rumors and spread the truth, instead bearing this stain on your reputation in vain?"

Yingjia chuckled. "You speak of the truth?" Ji Chang nodded gravely. "The truth."

The crippled ruler slowly let his smile fade and began to speak softly, "I am a broken man, unable to ride a horse or draw a bow, nor can I sail the seas or engage in trade. Of course, with my lineage, I could have lain quietly in bed awaiting death and lived out decades in peace. But I refused. Without power in my hands, I feel unsettled. Yet the power in this world is finite—if I advance a step, someone must retreat. Junliang naturally grew suspicious of me, but I could not let go. Power is an intoxicating thing. Even lying here, I can stir up storms, for I hold in my grasp what others desire. They willingly become my hounds to seize more for me, and this influence grows like a rolling snowball. I, this cripple, am a treasure trove. These thieves can never divide the spoils evenly—if one seeks to kill me, there will always be others to defend me. You see, they use what they plunder to sustain me, all while begging for my favor!" As he spoke these words, he broke into uncontrollable laughter, coughing violently. After catching his breath, he added, "If Junliang does not kill me, I will kill him someday. So this reputation is not entirely unearned. What ruler can escape death? As long as I live, I cannot be without power, but once my eyes close forever, all will come to an end. I am such a man, with no thought of legacy or heirs. In the end, everything will return to Suolan. Let those rumors linger in the streets—it will be better for Suolan in the future."

A chill ran down Ji Chang's spine, and he shook his head. "My lord's foresight is profound, but I fear I do not fully comprehend it."

Yingjia laughed, as if genuinely amused. "Does Your Highness recall the day you stormed into this very chamber at fourteen and delivered that eloquent speech on gaining the world's trust and the interdependence of lips and teeth? Every word struck true, yet your tone was deft and subtle. That very day, I wrote the decree ordering the promised provisions and armor to be delivered to you for transport to the northern capital, Shuanghuan City of Dazheng. It was not because your words intimidated me.

That day, I had just returned from Fengnan—even the princes within the palace might not have known. The palace maids, guards, court officials—I do not know which among them you bribed. Such cunning maneuvers are not the work of a day or two, nor can they be bought for a mere hundred silver coins. That was when I realized Your Highness possessed foresight and ambition long before."Logically speaking, when most people are accused of treachery to their face, they would fly into a rage. Strangely, after your words, not only did I not lose face, but I also felt that you, child, are truly considerate and sensible. You skillfully avoided all those unspeakable thoughts in my heart. It is difficult for a good person to guess the mind of a villain—only a villain understands another villain so clearly. Now I know, Your Highness has schemes, and they are wicked ones.

At that time, the rebel forces and loyalist troops around Prince Xu were growing day by day, and their provisions and supplies would soon be insufficient. Even with the support of merchant groups, it was limited and far from matching the resources of the entire kingdom of Zhuni. Driven to desperation, you took this step, which shows Your Highness’s understanding of the times and courage.

Your Highness was young then, and your considerations might not have been thorough. I suspect half of the ideas came from that young general of yours. To be a ruler, one does not need to excel in everything; as long as one knows whose advice to heed in which matters, that already makes one half a wise ruler. I do not know what kind of person Prince Xu of Shuanghuan City is, but seeing Your Highness so accomplished in every way, I cannot help but wonder—is the emperor of this generation in the Eastern Continent standing right before me?" Ji Chang listened to his words unfolding slowly, unsure whether they boded well or ill. When he heard this last sentence, he shuddered violently and quickly laughed it off, saying, "Great Lord, do not mock Ji Chang." Yet his eyes sharpened, revealing a flicker of murderous intent.

Yingjia waved his hand with a smile. "I have rambled on so much only to make Your Highness understand that, though we each have our own difficulties, our minds are alike." Ji Chang’s heart calmed slightly, and a lazy smile remained on his face. "I am young, playful, and ignorant. Since the Great Lord has married Tilan to my second brother, why do you allow me to cause trouble around him?" At this, Yingjia laughed heartily, his voice sharp and shrill like a night owl.

"Your Highness is not coveting the meager things in my hands, so why should I meddle? However, if one day Your Highness achieves your ambitions, do not forget Zhuni." Ji Chang took his leave and had just reached the downstairs flower hall when Tang Qianzi approached him and said, "Your Highness, there is news from the port—Princess Zizan has passed away." Rubbing his temples wearily, Ji Chang replied, "I know."

Tilan returned to her bedchamber, where the palace attendants reported that Prince Chang had been waiting for some time. As she ascended to the small warm pavilion on the second floor’s southern side, she heard the rustling of robes and the clinking of armor, knowing that Ji Chang and Tang Qianzi had risen from their seats.

Seeing that only Gongye had followed her in, Ji Chang said, "What about your eight-treasure tea? I’ve been thinking about it, but you’re always so stingy, never serving it to guests." Gongye glanced at Tilan’s expression and smiled. "I’ll prepare it right away, but it takes time. Please sit a while longer, Your Highness." With that, she withdrew.

Tang Qianzi waited until Gongye’s footsteps faded into the distance before stepping forward to take Tilan’s hand. "Tilan, we have something to tell you." Though Tilan smiled, a faint shadow of sorrow lingered between her clear brows. "I also have something to tell you." Ji Chang gritted his teeth. "Great Lord Yingjia intends to send you to the Eastern Continent to marry my second brother in a political alliance. He wants you to return with me." Tilan slowly raised her face, her lips and teeth pale. Clutching Tang Qianzi’s hand, her nails dug deep into his wrist. Her blind eyes, hidden beneath a satin band, revealed no expression, yet an eerie, bone-chilling coldness emanated from her.Tang Qianzi felt as though he were holding a piece of ice in his hand—one that was slowly, inexorably melting away.

She nodded calmly and said, "I went to see the wildcat earlier, and on my way back, the Great Lord sent someone to summon me. It was about this very matter... I agreed." At her words, the two young men were taken aback.

"Tilan, what about you and Zhenchu..." Ji Chang began urgently but couldn't finish.

Tang Qianzi gripped her hand, unconsciously using immense force. No words came out—only a churning, searing magma of emotions that he couldn't express.

Tilan let him hold her hand, and it was a long while before she lifted her head and said, "Zhenchu, I'm sorry." The two of them were accustomed to her usual arrogance and willfulness, and they had never seen her so gentle and compliant. They knew then that she had truly made up her mind.

"Did you two have a fight? Don’t act out of anger," Ji Chang said.

Tilan’s expression remained flat and unreadable, her voice soft and weak, as if she were gravely injured. "We didn’t," she replied. As Tang Qianzi gradually loosened his grip, she gently and silently withdrew her hand. "Everyone addresses me as 'Your Highness,' saying I am the future king’s sister. My marriage was always meant to be a substitute for Suolan’s. On ordinary days, slaves and inner court officials let me order them around as I please. A single trinket from my person could cover half a year’s expenses for an ordinary family—do you think that comes without a price? It was always meant for such a purpose. Besides, who could defy something Uncle Yingjia has decided?" At the mention of Yingjia’s name, the faces of Tang Qianzi and Ji Chang turned pale.

The room fell into a prolonged silence before Ji Chang finally spoke with difficulty, "Don’t rush. There is a way, though it’s extremely risky—I don’t know if it will succeed." Ti Lan showed no trace of joy and nodded silently, saying, "I fear it won’t succeed." Ji Chang was immediately left speechless by her response.

Just then, Gong Ye entered with a cup of eight-treasure tea and said, "Your Highness, the fabric samples for tribute silk are waiting outside for you to choose from for your new gown." "Later," Ti Lan waved dismissively, turning to walk toward the window. Gong Ye bowed and withdrew.

The February sunlight was pale and cold, filtering through the gold window lattice carved with the epic tales of twelve generations of former kings, casting slender, intricate shadows on Ti Lan’s face, as if veiled in a layer of gloom. No one touched the teacup on the table, and in moments, its rich, sweet warmth dissipated, leaving it cold.

"Ti Lan." Facing the window, she responded absently, "Hmm?" Ji Chang continued, "Currently, pirates are rampant on the western seas of Wanzhou, making navigation impossible. We should cross the Chuliao Sea and head to Quanming Port. Once in Quanming, palace maids and carriages will be there to welcome you. When your people of Zhuzhi send off the bride, she must wear eighteen layers of black veils, not to be removed until she stands before the groom. Why not..." "Why not?" she still did not turn around.

"If Gong Ye could take your place entering the palace, you could stay in Quanming for a while, and Zhen Chu would return to fetch you later." Ti Lan pondered briefly, "And then?" Without waiting for Ji Chang’s reply, she continued on her own, "Then you, a prince second only to the emperor, would remain secure. Zhen Chu, your most trusted follower, would naturally serve as a court official or a frontier general. I would live in seclusion, simply known as General Tang’s wife from the Western Continent. If I received any prophetic dreams at night, I would naturally inform you both. With you and your subordinate united in purpose—one reaching the pinnacle of power, the other ever-victorious—everyone would live in peace and harmony. That wouldn’t be so bad." Ji Chang detected the sarcasm in her words and mulled them over repeatedly, yet something remained elusive, beyond his grasp.

"Ti Lan, I promised that one day I would take you away. Now, we can delay no longer." Tang Qianzi gazed at her slender back, his heart burning with anguish, the hand gripping his sword tensing until veins bulged.

Ti Lan nodded, "So you’ve remembered all along." After a pause, she added, "It’s getting late. They’re still waiting outside with the silk samples for me to choose. You might as well call them in." Ji Chang wanted to say more, but seeing Ti Lan’s clear intent to dismiss him, he had to hold back.

Tang Qianzi cast a deep glance at Ti Lan, feeling as though something were stuck in his throat, yet his voice remained clear and resolute, "Your servant takes his leave." With that, he turned decisively and strode away, the hem of his military robe swirling in a small gust, as if he could not bear to stay a moment longer.

Gong Ye led a procession of palace attendants carrying dozens of pattern books into the room, only to find Ti Lan gripping the gold window lattice, her delicate shoulders slumped as if bearing immense pain. Her raven-black hair had come completely undone, cascading like midnight waves to the floor, with two stark white ribbons intertwined within, glaringly vivid.

"Your Highness!" Gong Ye rushed forward in a panic, flustered.

Ti Lan abruptly turned around, her lower lip bitten to a deep crimson, yet she was stifling a laugh. Her expression was strikingly cold and severe, utterly incongruous with her youth, yet unmistakably, it was a smile.Gong Ye was so frightened she nearly burst into tears, but her mind remained clear. She hastily dismissed the palace attendants. After the rustling of robes faded away, only Tilán and she remained in the room. Gong Ye went to close the door, and when she turned back, Tilán was already slumped at the table, her head propped wearily on her hand. Gong Ye quietly fetched a warming stove and placed it at her feet, then brewed a fresh cup of hot tea and handed it to her. But Tilán seized her hand, her slender, icy fingers gripping Gong Ye’s wrist tightly.

"Gong Ye, I have a favor to ask of you," she said. "Can you promise me?" Seeing the desolation on Tilán’s face, Gong Ye hurriedly knelt beside her knees. "My life belongs entirely to Your Highness." Tilán shook her head. "This matter requires your promise. I beg you." Tears streamed uncontrollably down Gong Ye’s cheeks. "Your Highness, among the pirate villages, raids and massacres are nothing unusual. Countless girls from those villages have been captured and sold on the shores. Those who couldn’t be sold were sacrificed to the Dragon-Tailed God by the pirates. If not for Your Highness, I would have died at the age of seven. How could I have lived in luxury until today? Even if Your Highness were to ask for my life..." Tilán’s eyes also brimmed with sorrow as she bent down and embraced her slave. Tears fell onto Gong Ye’s delicate silk garments, leaving coin-sized marks. Yet Tilán forced a smile and said, "That day, my cousins took me to pick a slave. All the beautiful, talented ones who could sing and dance were chosen by them. Only you were left in the corner. Everyone said you were too dark and thin to be pretty. I didn’t want to buy you at first, but you clung to the hem of my robe and said you could tell stories. That’s why I bought you. I bought you for a lifetime, and it only cost half a gold coin. Truly, it was a bargain." Gong Ye wept even harder. "No, Your Highness heard that unsold slaves would be sacrificed to the gods and didn’t even ask the price before deciding to buy me. I will remember that for the rest of my life." Tilán stroked her hair, tears falling as she whispered, "Gong Ye, I truly cannot bear to part with you. But as for that matter, no matter how slim the hope, I must try. You know I’ve waited for so many years." Gong Ye suddenly lifted her head, her face streaked with tears of panic.

On the twelfth day of the third month, news arrived from the Eastern Continent: in the four-day-and-five-night Battle of the Red Medicine Plains north of Huangquan Pass, the royal army achieved a decisive victory, annihilating over fifty thousand enemy troops and wiping out the remnants of the rebel forces. The Huku army suffered heavy losses, and Gu Dacheng, one of the Six-Winged Generals, beheaded the usurper Chu Fengyi. Princess Red Medicine was trampled to death in the chaos of battle, and only three of her dismembered limbs were recovered.

On the seventeenth day of the fourth month, Chu Zhongxu ascended the throne in the Eastern Capital, Tianqi, proclaiming himself Emperor Xu and establishing the era name Tianxiang. He then led his army back to the capital.

On the ninth day of the fifth month, envoys from the Great Zheng arrived at Bipoluo, presenting official documents to announce the new emperor’s ascension, the posthumous elevation of the late Consort Zizan as empress, and other related matters. They also delivered an edict summoning Prince Chang back to the capital.

The departure date for Prince Chang and Princess Tilán’s party was set for the twentieth day of the fifth month.

Leaving Bipoluo Harbor, they sailed into the Chuliao Sea on the midsummer southwestern winds. After fifteen days of traveling day and night, Mount Minzhong came into view from afar. From half a day’s sailing distance, a faint gray haze could be seen on the horizon. As they drew closer, the rugged silhouette of the mountain gradually emerged from the gray mist.The sailors leaped and swung nimbly among the rigging. Several starboard sails caught the wind at precise angles, guiding the magnolia-wood ship gracefully into a smooth arc to port as people exclaimed and surged toward the starboard rail. This was the largest island in the Middle Sea, a mountain floating upon the waves. To the south lay Chiran Bay, where a sheer cliff face soared hundreds of feet high like a crimson waterfall cascading from the sky—precipitous and stark, with birds crying and circling at its summit. It was said to be the remnant of a massive landslide centuries past, the fallen rocks piling at the cliff’s base into a jagged, blood-red stone shore. Waves hissed as they rushed in, then drained back through countless crevices, the wind and surf howling through the gaps in a mournful, chilling lament.

The ship completed its wide turn, its bow now facing the open sea as it tilted gently westward toward the shore. Along this desolate, lonely stretch of stone beach stood a row of several docks, each with twenty berths. Only Chola ships came and went, most anchoring at midday to stay the night. Shipowners and merchants would disembark, ascending a winding path to the Dragon Tail Temple atop the cliff to offer prayers and seek dreams by night, then weigh anchor at dawn. Despite being a rare natural harbor with deep waters and wide passages, it had no market towns—not even pirates would camp here, leaving it a veritable deserted isle.

Merchant ships from the distant Eastern Sea brought rumors: for centuries, there had been tales of sea-speakers who commanded sharks, and whispers that in certain hidden waters of the Huan and Wei Seas, one could lower goods in a basket, sound a conch, and mermaids would surface to trade. If pleased with the offerings, they would exchange them for mermaid silk as radiant and soft as sunset clouds. Yet the Chola people paid these tales no mind, maintaining a cautious, respectful distance from the legendary divine race. They knew to listen to the songs of the sea, guiding their ships laden with worldly fortunes safely back to harbor.

Tilan stood alone at the prow, her usual simple white robes exchanged for a thin, gold-sprinkled crimson silk gown, its train sweeping three feet behind her like the tail feathers of a rare bird, fluttering as if ready to take flight. The white silk band over her eyes was gone, and against the sea winds, she wore a pale blue embroidered shawl adorned with peonies. Apart from the golden Dragon Tail pendant at her throat and a palm-sized golden xieluo flower pinned in her hair, none of her old belongings remained.

"Tilan." Hearing her name, she turned and smiled at the caller behind her. A faint smile, amplified by the bright rouge on her lips, appeared almost full. Those close to her always called her name to avoid startling her—a habit formed over time. The two boys who had once played and frolicked with her were now imposing young men, yet their old custom endured.

Ji Chang stepped forward, standing beside her as they faced the salty sea breeze. Though she could not see, she knew Tang Qianzi would be two steps behind, attending quietly.

"It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I almost didn’t recognize you," Ji Chang said with a laugh.Tilan smiled as well. "It was just a change of clothes. Before departure, there's always so much to do—selecting fabrics, tailoring garments, learning all those intricate rules of your Eastern Court—I couldn't break away to visit you." After a moment of silence, Tilan asked, "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?" Jichang's tone was always cheerful and languid, like that of an ordinary carefree youth.

Her blind eyes gazed toward the distant horizon where sea met sky. "The day you shattered the idol, I had a nightmare. I dreamed you died at sea. Do you remember?" Jichang chuckled dismissively. "How could I forget? You were crying and begging me not to return to the Eastern Continent." Tilan shook her head gently. "What if it were true?" The young prince replied playfully, "Then I'd trouble Your Highness to dream again, this time of my narrow escape." Tilan frowned. "I don't possess such abilities." Jichang's smile gradually faded. "Life is but a grand gamble. It's not that I'm unafraid of death, but before the day of destruction arrives, no matter the cost, I must accomplish what I set out to do. Otherwise... I would have lost completely." After a brief silence, as if realizing he had spoken too freely, he abruptly changed the subject. "I remember you've wanted to come here since childhood." Tilan shook her head again, the golden xieluo petals at her temples swaying gently. "That was when I was little." A smile touched her lips. "Back then, Gongye would sleep beside me every night, telling me those absurd yet wonderful stories of pirate ships. She said deep in Minzhong Island lies a lake, its shores covered with xieluo trees blooming like fire, and beneath its silver-bright waters rests a sunken palace. Its walls are made of crystal, its steps of solid agate. Gold, coral, marrow jade, and ambergris—the Dragon-Tailed God gathered their endless wealth, along with treasures from all the shipwrecks over millennia, piling them there. Even if ten of the tallest glacier giants stood one upon another, they would still be buried in the riches." A cold sneer twisted Jichang's lips; he had always scorned the beliefs of the Zhunian people. But Tilan's voice held a hypnotic charm, and he remained silent, letting her finish the millennia-old tale.

"The deities sit in their frozen palace, recalling the ancient days when they could still gallop freely across the land, and they weep. The tears of the Dragon-Tailed God are pearls like morning stars, each one falling to the ground, echoing sighs through the palace. The echoes ripple outward, from the lakebed to the seabed, growing from ripples to waves, waves rising like mountains and crashing down like mountains, stirring storms in the sky—this is the White Tide. Every pirate on the Chuliao Sea knows how alluring that treasure is, just as they know how terrifying the White Tide can be. Countless people, filled with ambition and dreams, set out to find that palace, but none have succeeded. The forests and lakes of Minzhong devour people; many have lost their lives merely picking xieluo flowers by the shore." Just then, Gongye came to report that the horses were ready and they could depart for the mountain temple to pay respects. Tilan smiled. "We were just discussing your story with Prince Chang." With that, she bowed her head slightly in farewell and turned to leave gracefully. Gongye hurried after to support her, her eyes inexplicably red.The narrow cliffside path to the temple allowed only single-file passage, with courtiers and guards marching in columns on foot. Only two domesticated, nimble cliff-gazelle horses were provided for Tilan and Ji Chang to ride. At first, the roar of the ocean waves was audible, but halfway up, the wind howled like the beating wings of giant birds, swift and forceful as slaps against the body. When orders were relayed, they had to be shouted along the way. Though Ji Chang had traversed this path once before on his initial journey to Zhuzhen, gazing down at the sheer cliffs below still made him dizzy and fearful. The waves that had once seemed half a person high now appeared as a mere fringe of white foam, and the jagged rocky shore was entirely invisible. Beneath his feet, seabirds cried and soared. Tang Qianzi held the reins of his horse steadily, while Gongye led Tilan’s mount. The entire procession moved with caution, prioritizing safety over speed. It took over two hours to reach the cliff top, arriving in the late afternoon at the fourth mark of the Lei hour.

Looking out in all directions, the southern sea glittered with golden specks, and the dock of the royal fleet in Chiran Bay was reduced to a faint white line in the distance. To the north, behind the temple, slender pine trees grew bent in the direction of the sea breeze, sparse at first but becoming dense and upright in the sheltered lowlands. Clusters of dark, oily green foliage piled up, impenetrable to the wind, with gaps between them forming the paths.

Centuries ago, a landslide had split the mountain in two, leaving only half of the temple standing. Unlike the intricate and elaborate architecture of the Zhuzhen people, some claimed it was built by an ancient, long-vanished tribe, while others believed it was the work of the Dragon-Tail God themselves. The structure was remarkably simple yet towering, constructed from pure white marble without any inlaid decorations. The marble pillars, carved with dragon-scale patterns, stood tall or lay collapsed on the ground, some half-buried in red sandy soil like the bones of prehistoric giants. The remaining half of the temple stood desolate, its hollow and solemn interior exposed to the fierce winds.

Twelve ritual officers began chanting hymns, expressing reverence and submission to the divine power. The melodies were hauntingly strange, sung in an unfamiliar tongue, said to have been passed down by sailors who survived storms. No matter how clear and calm the noon weather, if these ethereal songs drifted from afar, darkness would swiftly descend upon the world, with turbulent clouds gathering in the sky and eerie ghost fires igniting on the masts. These were the songs of the Dragon-Tail God, summoning storms.

Ji Chang took Tilan’s hand and led her under the shelter of the temple’s broken dome, flanked by Tang Qianzi and Gongye, with the courtiers following in single file. The hexagonal marble tiles that once paved the floor were mostly shattered or lost, revealing the mottled foundation beneath. Scattered sunlight cast patches of light here and there. At the far end of the temple hall, from the pale gray foundation stones, rose dazzling white marble waves, sculpted to twice a person’s height.

They were carved with such exquisite realism—curling, boiling, and roaring—as if chasing every ship daring to venture into the deep sea like ferocious beasts pursuing helpless prey.At the heart of the immense, motionless vortex, crowned with thorns, sat the master of the ocean. The dragon-tailed deity revered across the Western Lands was but a scaled-down imitation of this very figure—a breathtakingly beautiful maiden, her head raised in song, human from the waist up and serpentine below, her ears delicately pointed, her deep blue curls cascading as if swaying in unseen currents. Yet no replica could rival her. She was towering, magnificent, and lifelike, as if recalling the echoes of endless storms in the eternal silence.

Before the ten-meter-tall statue of the dragon-tailed deity lay heaps of flower garlands and fruits, some withered, others fresh. Among these offerings were small clay urns, their ashes—the remains of human sacrifices made by pirates to the deity—stirred into dust by the passing wind. Within the temple of the dragon-tailed deity, the children of the sea refrained from conflict, allowing pirates and merchants to worship side by side in uneasy peace. Yet how the deity would judge their contradictory prayers, no one knew.

Attendants flowed forward like water, presenting fruits, fresh flowers, and new wine. Hymns rose in melodious strains, like wisps of blue smoke ascending to the heavens, unending.

Hundreds knelt in unison before the statue, murmuring prayers for the prosperity of their nations, the tranquility of the seas, and everlasting peace without the scourge of war. Ji Chang stood at the forefront, his gaze lifting to the deity. A decade had passed since his first visit—then a timid, malleable child of eleven, but no longer. He bared his teeth in a silent, rebellious, and mocking smile. What did it matter? All followed behind him, none could see his expression, and the woman beside him was blind. The stone idol before him was the god of these fools, not his. No one could control him now.

The hymn’s cadence faltered, abruptly ceasing as if dissipated like smoke. The chief ritualist straightened his robes, knelt before Ti Lan and Ji Chang, and announced the completion of the ceremony.

Ji Chang nodded and rose, extending a hand to assist Ti Lan. As he leaned down, he heard her whisper, "O deity, grant me forgiveness and aid." The slave girl Gong Ye bent to support Ti Lan as well. In the dim backlight, Ji Chang saw a single, silent tear fall from the beautiful eyes of the slave.

Tang Qian stood behind them, like a faint shadow.