Bei Zhou
Bei Zhou sometimes wondered: if the first person in the Yi household to catch him secretly styling his hair into a woman’s bun had been anyone other than Yi Nan, he would likely have been driven out of the estate on the spot—whether he’d even survive would be uncertain.
But Yi Nan wasn’t just anyone.
The young mistress stared at the trembling little guard for only a moment before breaking into a grin. "Brother Bei looks very pretty like this too."
At that playful, mischievous age, she treated him like a new doll, eagerly pulling him to sit before the mirror. She stole her mother’s rouge and powder, smearing them onto his face.
Bei Zhou lowered his head, suppressing the urge to bolt.
Even he couldn’t explain the obscure, uncontrollable feelings stirring in his chest back then. He only vaguely sensed that he was different from others, but that realization plunged him into a terror of imminent doom—so much so that he couldn’t even bear to look at his own reflection.
Once Yi Nan finished with a giggle, her next words shattered his daze: "From now on, you won’t be Brother Bei—you’ll be Sister Bei!"
Ah, it’s over.
Children can’t keep secrets. By tonight, the master would hear of it, and tomorrow would be his last day.
Bei Zhou waited in dread—one day, two days, three days…
Months later, dragged before the mirror again to serve as her professional doll, he finally couldn’t hold back. "Miss, have you ever told anyone about this?"
Yi Nan blinked in confusion. "Of course not! When my mother noticed the missing rouge, she just thought I was being vain!"
The secret remained tightly kept for a long time. As the young mistress grew older year by year, she gradually abandoned her childhood makeup games.
Now worldly-wise, Bei Zhou sank into a new, prolonged wait—for the day she’d realize her guard was a freak and cast him far away.
He waited one year, two years, three years…
Then he stopped waiting.
On an ordinary afternoon, the young mistress sat by the window reading a frivolous book while Bei Zhou stood silently behind her. Perhaps she’d stumbled upon some tale of star-crossed lovers, because she suddenly sighed, "I wonder who my future husband will be."
Bei Zhou thought for a moment. "Miss will surely find a fine man, grow old together, and bear a pair of clever, lovely children."
Yi Nan turned and smiled at him, a faint melancholy in her eyes.
"Enough about me. What about you, Bei?"
"Me?" Bei Zhou shook his head immediately. "I’ve little fortune in my fate—I doubt I’ll ever meet someone meant for me. In the future, Nan’s children will be my children. I’ll just remain a guard, protecting you all for life."
Yi Nan laughed. "Yet I hope one day, you’ll find children of your own."
Xiao Tiancai
As a once-in-a-century medical prodigy, Xiao Tiancai had quietly surpassed all his superiors within just three years of joining the Imperial Hospital. The rest of his energy was spent playing the fool and slacking off—after all, being a royal physician was a high-risk profession; climbing too high only made the fall deadlier.
If his mentor assigned a three-day task, he’d finish it in half a day and treat the remaining two and a half as vacation.
Xiao Tiancai had a favorite hiding spot near the Imperial Hospital, lush with greenery—lying beneath the shade, he could evade all prying eyes.
But one day, before he even reached it, the distant sound of music reached his ears.Xiao Tiancai had cultivated many refined hobbies in his leisure time—he could play the qin and even the pipa. But the music that reached his ears was unlike anything he had ever heard before. It wasn’t exactly pleasant or unpleasant, just bizarre.
Unable to resist his curiosity, Xiao Tiancai quietly crept closer, hiding behind a tree to investigate. And that was when he saw Xie Yong’er.
Xie Yong’er was practicing Romance d'Amour on a homemade guitar. Perhaps because she hadn’t memorized the sheet music properly, her playing was halting, and she fumbled eight times in the same spot.
Xiao Tiancai winced at the sound, only letting out a long sigh of relief when she finally left. He silently hoped she had at least some self-awareness—or at least a survival instinct—and would never dare perform in front of the Emperor.
But the next day, she returned.
Xie Yong’er occupied that spot for an entire month, leaving Xiao Tiancai with nowhere else to go but to eavesdrop for that same month.
After a month, Xie Yong’er finally managed to play a complete piece. She immediately jumped up, punched the tree trunk, and roared, “How freaking awesome is that?!”
Xiao Tiancai, standing on the other side of the tree: “……”
Later, many things happened.
They gradually became acquainted, yet Xiao Tiancai could only watch as the two undying flames in Consort Xie’s eyes dimmed day by day.
At first, he didn’t know what was happening, nor did he understand why he felt inexplicably restless. After all, even if he had ten times the courage, he wouldn’t dare covet the Tyrant’s consort.
Until one day, Xie Yong’er secretly sought him out, begging him to prepare an abortifacient for her.
Xiao Tiancai was startled. After hesitating for a moment, he lowered his voice and asked, “Is it because of the Empress Dowager?”
Xie Yong’er bowed her head in silence.
Xiao Tiancai said, “...I can prepare medicine to stabilize the pregnancy and swear not to tell anyone. When the time comes, Your Highness can seek His Majesty’s protection—after all, it is his own flesh and blood…”
Xie Yong’er shook her head almost imperceptibly, tears welling as she continued to plead.
Still unaware of the truth, Xiao Tiancai patiently explained the dangers of the procedure.
Finally, Xie Yong’er gritted her teeth. “This child is not of the imperial bloodline.”
Tears fell—whether from sorrow over her circumstances or fear of losing him as her lifeline, it was unclear. To earn his trust, she confessed everything, from her first meeting with Prince Duan to their mutual affection and the resulting pregnancy.
Xiao Tiancai listened silently, a sudden realization dawning on him.
Had her heart not belonged to another, he might never have recognized his own delusion. But she was reckless, loving someone with wild abandon and despair—just not him.
So this feeling was jealousy.
Later, many more things happened.
By the time Xiao Tiancai saw Xie Yong’er again, the truth had already come to light.
She had lost the child, was placed under house arrest by the Emperor, abandoned by Prince Duan, and all her pride had been ground into the dirt.
Yet her expression was more relaxed than ever, as if she had shed some heavy shackles, or like someone recovering from a grave illness—frail but at peace.
She begged him to save the Emperor, then admitted bluntly that there was no such thing as true love in this world. Her only goal now was to survive, find a way to escape, and flee far away.
For a moment, Xiao Tiancai wanted to ask her, “Then what about me?”
I’m right here—have you ever noticed me?
He always felt she must have known his feelings, yet she seemed too heartbroken by Prince Duan to ever speak of romance again. It felt somewhat unfair.But in the end, he said nothing. Because he remembered—Xie Yong'er hadn't played the qin in this deep palace for a very, very long time.
Before Xie Yong'er left the palace, they met one last time.
That day, the sunlight was warm, and Xie Yong'er was in high spirits. She seemed to have let go of everything, sharing her grand plans with him like an old friend: building a commercial empire and even inviting the empress to invest. In the future, every bustling street in the nation would bear her mark.
Xiao Tiancai listened, half-understanding, but he noticed the fire reignited in her eyes—just like when she practiced the qin under the tree long ago, always resilient, always full of fighting spirit.
Xiao Tiancai slowly smiled. "When the time comes, don’t forget to take breaks now and then and play that strange qin of yours."
Xie Yong'er laughed. "Hahaha, sure."
Xie Yong'er: "..."
Xie Yong'er asked, "Where did you hear that?"
Xiao Tiancai had assumed there was no place for him in her grand dreams—until much later, when he received a letter passed to him by Yu Wanyin.
When all is settled, if word of your arrival reaches me, I shall retune the old strings and play sweet melodies once more.
Xiao Tiancai’s face flushed crimson. Afraid Yu Wanyin might notice his emotions, he hastily tucked the letter away and excused himself.
His heart brimmed with joy, his steps light as air.
He would carefully craft a reply.
Deaf-Mute Girl
The deaf-mute girl wasn’t actually named "Deaf-Mute Girl." But those who remembered her real name were all dead.
A minor official from the Qiang Kingdom knocked on the door of her shabby hut, frowned at the sallow, emaciated girl, and asked, "Is there anyone else in your family?"
The girl replied, "They’re all gone. Didn’t say when they’d return."
With a sigh, the official tossed her a cloth pouch. "Take this."
She opened it—a meager handful of copper coins.
She asked, "Why are you giving me money?"
"It’s what your parents left for you."
The girl thought for a moment. "Are they dead?"
"They became warriors. This is the reward."
She knew what "warriors" meant. Clutching the pouch, she asked, "They died for this?"
The official snapped impatiently, "Being a warrior is an honor many can only dream of. Don’t be ungrateful."
After he left, she turned the pouch upside down and shook it—out fell a tattered contract bearing her parents’ names.
We voluntarily pledge our ancestors’ glory to become the queen’s blade. We depart for Xia Kingdom, life or death irrelevant. The reward shall go to our family.
Winter approached. A neighbor, an old woman, heard the child had been orphaned and brought over a worn cotton coat.
The girl was at a loss. In the war-torn Qiang Kingdom, where survival was uncertain, even the smallest kindness was a luxury.
The old woman patted her head. "What’s your name? Does anyone else in your family look after you?"
After a long silence, the girl countered, "Were my parents willing when they became warriors?"
The old woman hesitated, pity flickering in her eyes, before answering firmly, "Yes. Becoming a warrior is noble. Everyone will remember them forever."
The girl tightened her grip on the contract.
Two weeks later, when the old woman knocked again, the hut stood empty.
Years later, Yu Wanyin gained a mute maidservant.Every time Yu Wanyin saw her, she couldn't help but think the girl looked so small and underdeveloped, as if she'd missed her chance to grow taller without proper nutrition. So she made sure to arrange a daily glass of milk for her and would often slip her snacks and pastries.
The deaf-mute girl never refused, always accepting them with a smile.
Later, after the deaf-mute girl passed away, the Shadow Guards thoroughly searched all her belongings and found a hidden compartment beneath her bed.
Inside were a contract, a worn-out cotton-padded jacket, and a few pieces of moldy pastry wrapped in a handkerchief.
These were the most treasured possessions of her lifetime.
Cen Jintian
Cen Jintian was the first in the entire court to realize Er Lan was a woman.
There was no special reason—Er Lan simply hadn't bothered to hide it well from him.
At first, Cen Jintian didn't understand what this meant. Actually, whenever anyone had a secret they were bursting to share, they would come to him first. After all, he would soon take it to the grave.
He knew Yang Duojie had long harbored dissatisfaction with the Emperor, worrying he hadn't encountered a wise ruler.
He also knew Li Yunxi's feelings toward Er Lan had gone through several changes, growing increasingly complicated.
So keeping one more of Er Lan's secrets wasn't a big deal.
But later, as his illness worsened, Er Lan busied herself tirelessly caring for him—this went beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship.
Moreover, Er Lan's whole heart was tied to him. If he showed the slightest improvement, her mood would be lifted all day. When his condition fluctuated and he fell into unconsciousness, she would sit by his bedside, stealing long glances at him.
Over time, he came to understand.
Cen Jintian knew in his heart he couldn't respond.
Sentenced to an early death since childhood, aware his life would be short, he had poured all his energy into research. Beyond that, he didn't even care who the Emperor was.
After leaving home in his youth, he kept minimal contact with his parents and siblings, not wanting to leave them with grief after his passing.
An ill-fated man wasn't worthy of forming bonds.
But that day, Er Lan had likely come straight to him after finishing official duties, dressed in a fitted dark green riding outfit that accentuated her slender waist and long legs, vibrant and spirited like a budding willow.
Cen Jintian restrained himself perfectly, lowering his eyes and not sparing her another glance.
Only when she turned her back did he allow himself to look.
Cen Jintian always believed he had concealed it flawlessly.
Their relationship remained one of noble friendship, as light as water—no overstepping of boundaries, not a single ambiguous word spoken.
This thread of fate was never tied. By the time she grew old and looked back, at most there would only be a faint trace of melancholy.
That would be enough.
Yet on the day of his death, Er Lan came to see him off wearing dark green.
Though his mind was already clouded, Cen Jintian felt a pang of panic.
She had done it on purpose, wearing the color that moved him most. Was it a revelation, revenge, or a demand for answers?
Surrounded by colleagues and friends at his bedside, Cen Jintian locked eyes only with Er Lan. Their gazes were clear, yet neither spoke a word.
What could he say? Ask when she had known? Both were exceptionally intelligent—if he had realized long ago, how could he expect Er Lan to remain in the dark?
At this point, should he apologize? Offer comfort? Confess his feelings? How could a few words bridge the vast chasm between life and death?
His breath grew weaker, his vision swallowed by darkness, yet he still didn't know what last words to leave.In the blurry vision, Er Lan turned her back to the crowd and mouthed a word at him: "Next life?"
There were no tears in her eyes, only brimming anticipation.
Cen Jintian smiled and nodded with difficulty.
He had no regrets left in this life.
OpenNovel