Chu Qiao was awakened by an intoxicating fragrance.
The moon hung high in the sky, stars sparse and scattered. Moonlight spilled like liquid silver through the latticed window, softly falling upon the cool divan as if blanketing it with snow-white pear blossoms. Dressed in a pearl-colored sleeping gown, her raven hair cascaded across the couch. With a faint furrow of her delicate brows, she slowly opened her eyes to see shimmering reflections outside the window, bathed in the gentle moonlight, creating an ethereal and solitary silhouette.
Having slept excessively during the day, she found herself wide awake at night.
Chu Qiao sat up without disturbing the maids outside. She walked to the window and gently lifted a corner of the curtain.
Before her, a crabapple tree bloomed in full splendor, its branches stretching out like crimson clouds, resembling rouge-stained silk swaying gently in the chilly night breeze. The delicate fragrance enveloped her as she reached out, brushing a cluster of petals, causing crimson floss to drift down and settle on her wide sleeves.
On the distant clear pond, palace servants drifted in a boat, their melancholic flute melodies echoing like whispers from a secluded valley, lulling one into slumber.
In an instant, eight years of toil seemed to vanish. Standing by the window, Chu Qiao felt like a mischievous child stumbling into a celestial realm, losing all sense of time.
Unwilling to alert the maids, she gathered her skirt and stepped lightly onto a high branch in her pearl-embroidered soft-soled shoes. With agile movements, she descended along the newly constructed waterwheel from the second floor, landing gracefully on the ground.
The soil around the crabapple tree was freshly turned, clearly transplanted recently. Recalling Li Ce’s jest on the street about moving the flowering tree into the palace, she hadn’t expected him to remember.
For some inexplicable reason, her heart stirred faintly. She turned away, as if afraid to disturb the ripples within.
It was already late summer, the night air carrying a slight chill absent during the day. Holding her skirt, Chu Qiao walked slowly along the ebony bridge encircling the pond in her ill-fitting palace slippers. The breeze rustled her hem, while the vast sky above held sparse stars. Behind veils of clouds, a crescent moon drifted among the palace roofs, casting hazy, ice-clear light upon the ground.
The shore bloomed with intoxicating flowers—large blossoms of white, red, and pale pink intertwined under a serene silver glow.
Chu Qiao’s expression was tranquil; it had been so long since she’d felt such peace. The night breeze caressed her face, everything resembling a dreamlike illusion. As she walked, a koi suddenly leaped, shattering the pond’s stillness with a soft splash. The ripples deepened the silence.
With no one around, she sat on the wooden bridge, resting her hands on the ebony railing and gazing at the gentle waves. She leaned her head against the wood’s growth rings.
How long had it been since she’d known such quietude?
These days in Biantang seemed to wash away all her harshness and weariness. The serene landscapes, summer blossoms filling the garden, and elegant eaves and brackets all embodied the misty charm of the southern regions. She could finally exhale deeply and remind herself: this wasn’t Zhenhuang, nor Daxia—far from slaughter and pursuit. She was temporarily safe, allowing herself to breathe, just slightly, for a moment.
Eight years. Even if she never spoke of it, no matter how resilient she appeared, eventually, even she grew weary.I wonder if the wind in Yanbei is as warm as it is here?
At this thought, Chu Qiao suddenly chuckled softly.
How could it be? Yanbei is perpetually covered in snow, with biting cold winds. Only the Huihui Mountain area has lush green valleys where one can gallop freely on horseback. According to Yan Xun, there are celestial maidens on Huihui Mountain—goddesses who protect the people of Yanbei. One of them stands eternally on the coldest peak, gazing at the star charts of the earth, watching over the mortal world with fearless and compassionate eyes, contending with the heavens for sunlight and warmth, striving to secure hope for her people.
Yanbei, Yanbei—even the deities of Yanbei are maternal warriors. Every inch of Yanbei’s soil is soaked with the blood and tears of its people as they resist natural disasters, human calamities, and the ravages of war. It is a nation reborn from beneath piles of bones; beneath every flower’s roots lie the remains of soldiers who defended their homeland, and in every wisp of breeze lingers the spirit of those who gave their lives for freedom.
That is Yanbei—a land steeped in suffering, yet one that has never bowed its head in submission.
She had never seen that highland covered with tall grass with her own eyes; she had only heard others speak of it repeatedly. In those dark, unbearable, and wretched days, talking about Yanbei—its snow-capped mountains and grasslands—was the greatest joy she and Yan Xun shared. Huddled in dark corners, they would envision herds of wild horses and rushing rivers, as if glimpsing immense hope in the icy winter nights.
Those who have not experienced it cannot comprehend the bond they shared.
In that suffocating, nauseating, and maddening imperial city, they were like two hairless wolf cubs, standing back-to-back, baring their insignificant claws. With no walls to lean on and no warmth to be found, they had no one to rely on but each other. Clinging tightly, they drew the courage to survive from each other’s gaze and body heat.
They were inseparable comrades, intimate allies, and family who could never abandon one another.
This complex emotion had long transcended mere romantic love, becoming as integral as bone and blood, a part of their very beings. Often, Chu Qiao had no time to dwell on trivial matters of a young woman’s heart. Her short life seemed to have been spent running, fighting, and scheming meticulously, burying many things deep within. But now, as she carefully reflected, she could not unravel her thoughts.
She was a rational person, always had been.
She knew what she wanted, what she should avoid, and what the future held. Thus, she walked diligently along this path, careful not to stray. Perhaps such a character was dull, tedious, and boring, but that was who she was—stubborn and unyielding, like a water buffalo.
Chu Qiao slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was coming; she could already smell the wind from afar. She knew it was him, missing her.
"How long are you going to sit there alone?"Chu Qiao started in surprise, whipping her head around to see Li Ce standing there. He wore a loose pine-green robe, tied loosely at the waist with the collar slightly open, revealing a well-built chest. His hair was tied back with a silk ribbon, strands drifting at his temples. His eyes, like willow tendrils in March, narrowed slightly under the moonlight like a drowsy fox, gazing at her with a smile before he stretched out a slender hand and gave a soft yawn.
Chu Qiao slowly furrowed her brow. "How long have you been standing here?"
"Just a moment." Li Ce swayed as he walked over and casually sat beside her, offering a silver flask. "Care for a drink?"
Chu Qiao shook her head. "I never drink."
Li Ce shrugged slightly. "You really don't know how to enjoy life."
"Did you come here in the middle of the night just to mock me?"
Li Ce took a sip of wine. His tolerance was clearly not great—after just a few sips, his cheeks flushed slightly. His gaze drifted over Chu Qiao before he pointed to a small island in the middle of the lake. "Do you know how long that tree has lived?"
Chu Qiao was taken aback, not expecting this sudden topic, and remained silent.
Li Ce answered his own question. "Over four hundred years. Hard to believe, isn't it? It's even older than the ancestors of Daxia."
Then he pointed to a small flower by the ebony bridge. "Do you know what this is?"
The flower was pale purple, with an extremely small blossom, swaying in the wind as if it might be swept away at any moment.
"This is called Youyan. It blooms at midnight and withers by dawn, flowering only once in its lifetime—just a few hours—yet it spends an entire year preparing for it."
The silver flask was engraved with delicate floral patterns that closely resembled the Youyan. Li Ce tilted his head back for another drink, then turned to her with a smile. "Qiaoqiao, life is short—like morning dew or a fleeting blossom, gone in the blink of an eye. When you can seize joy, seize it. Don't waste these precious moments."
Chu Qiao slowly shook her head, her voice low. "But if I had the choice, I'd rather be the Youyan, blooming brilliantly for a moment, than an ancient tree enduring a mundane existence."
"Heh," Li Ce laughed lightly. "Everything has its own way of living. The Youyan may laugh at the ancient tree for its lack of splendor, not realizing that enduring through time itself is a kind of magnificence. To stand firm through storms and years—that is true strength. The beauty of ages, how could a mayfly ever comprehend it?"
Chu Qiao turned to him, her gaze sharpening as she saw the brightness in his eyes and his carefree smile. She asked solemnly, "And you? Would you choose a moment of dazzling brilliance or the beauty of enduring through time?"
"Me?" Li Ce turned to her, his smile instantly radiant. "My ambitions are greater. I wish to stand tall like the ancient tree, enduring through the ages, yet bloom as brilliantly as the Youyan at every moment. Haha."
Chu Qiao gave a slight shake of her head and said softly, "Seize joy when life offers it; do not let the golden cup sit empty under the moon."
"Fine poetry!" Li Ce laughed, raising his flask for another drink. "I didn't know Qiaoqiao was such a talented poet."
Chu Qiao smiled faintly but did not refute him.
"Qiaoqiao, there's something I'd like to say, though I'm not sure if I should."
Chu Qiao replied with a light smile, "If you consider me a friend, speak freely."Tonight, Li Ce seemed like a completely different person from his usual self. Though his words still carried a playful tone and many unconventional remarks, sitting quietly under the moonlight surrounded by flowering trees, his voice and speech lost much of their usual absurdity, gaining instead a clarity as serene as the bright moon. A gentle breeze brushed past their sleeves, entwining the pearl-colored skirt and pine-green robe, diminishing any sense of strangeness and adding a touch of softness.
Chu Qiao reached up to smooth the stray hairs at her temples. Li Ce watched her, his gaze suddenly turning serious.
"Though Daxia is in chaos now, with feudal lords stirring restlessly and rebels rising everywhere, its roots run deep. A century of foundation has made its ship sturdy; even if storms come, steadying the helm can easily turn the tide. In contrast, the Yanbei regime, while appearing sharp and forcing Daxia to relocate its capital and retreat, is internally unstable, plagued by power struggles. To the north, the Quanrong covet its lands; to the south, Daxia watches like a tiger. Moreover, it lacks recognition from other states. It’s like sailing against the current—a single misstep could lead to destruction."
After saying this, Li Ce suddenly smiled, plucking a Youyan flower with one hand and giving a bewitching grin. "Yanbei and Daxia are like the Youyan and an ancient tree. The night is only temporary; once daybreak comes, superiority and inferiority will be clear, victory and defeat decided in an instant."
A gust of wind carried the purple blossoms away, scattering them into the clear, jade-green pond, where they drifted with the ripples, echoing faintly.
Chu Qiao looked at Li Ce and suddenly felt as if a thick fog had risen before her eyes, blurring her vision and clouding her understanding.
Much later, she repeated Li Ce’s words to Yan Xun. The man was on horseback at the time, the harsh Yanbei winds sweeping past his brows, fine snowflakes dusting his hair. Unlike her initial slight shock, he remained silent for a long while before finally speaking in a low, measured voice, "If that’s the case, then let this long night never end."
At the time, she didn’t understand Yan Xun’s words. She quietly thought that Li Ce ultimately did not understand Yan Xun. Daxia was indeed like a millennia-old tree, deeply rooted and sprawling across the entire Hongchuan Plain. Yet, besides the strengths of an ancient tree, it had too many branches and leaves—each demanding nourishment, water, and sunlight, clinging like vampires to the tree’s roots, flourishing with their own dense foliage and numerous descendants, each a separate regime vying for power.
As for Yanbei, though fragile, it possessed the tenacious vitality of the Youyan. With just an inch of soil, it could grow, lying dormant through harsh winters or scorching summers, waiting for its moment. And how could Yan Xun simply await dawn, watching his own demise and turning to ashes?
But all that was much later. On that cold moonlit night, Chu Qiao gazed quietly at Li Ce and suddenly felt she had never truly seen through him. Beneath that facade of laughing at worldly conventions and defying norms lay too many hidden depths—so profound, like a bottomless abyss with shimmering, unfathomable waters. And just moments ago, this man’s heart had briefly opened, allowing a faint shadow of her to slip inside.
She asked softly, "Li Ce, are you my friend?"Li Ce chuckled like a fox, giving a seemingly irrelevant reply: "I am the Crown Prince of Biantang."
Chu Qiao remained completely unfazed and continued asking: "Will you help us attack Daxia?"
Li Ce shook his head and replied softly: "No."
"Then will you help Daxia attack us?"
Li Ce was momentarily stunned, then laughed: "When Pei Luo Zhenhuang seized the eighteen provinces of Hongchuan from Biantang back then, it sparked a century of conflict between our two nations. No matter how shameless or reckless I may be, I cannot sit back and become a disgrace to my family."
Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow: "So you mean?"
"In the war between Daxia and Yanbei, Biantang will remain neutral. Even if Zhao Zhengde offered me his daughter in marriage—or even his own mother—it would be useless, haha!"
As Li Ce spoke, he suddenly burst into laughter. Chu Qiao's lips curved slightly as she smiled slowly: "In that case, you are my friend."
The young woman slowly extended her hand, her eyes bright and a smile on her lips.
Li Ce was in the middle of his laughter when he saw her gesture and froze momentarily. But in an instant, the man chuckled softly and, imitating Chu Qiao, slowly reached out his hand to clasp hers firmly!
Then Chu Qiao gave a light laugh. Her bright eyes fixed on Li Ce, her smile suddenly dazzling. She tilted her head slightly upward, her chin delicate, as moonlight like fine silk draped over her face, creating a radiant, almost dizzying glow.
She said with a smile: "Li Ce, Yanbei is not Youyan, and we are not mayflies. Daxia is like a tree—large enough, but its roots have begun to rot. Relying solely on a few ambitious princes won't sustain it. Haven't you heard? Those who win the people's hearts win the world."
At that moment, Li Ce suddenly felt somewhat dazzled. He frowned slightly and murmured to himself: "Those who win the people's hearts win the world?"
Chu Qiao chuckled softly. For these regimes long dominated by slavery, such ideas might indeed seem too far-fetched. She nodded, gazing into the distance, and said slowly: "A ruler governs the people, and the power of the people is limitless. All armies, weapons, gold, silver, and grain come from those slaves and commoners whom the nobles despise and belittle. They are the most tolerant people—with just a mouthful of food or a piece of land, they willingly provide most of their harvest to support others. But what if they can no longer survive?"
Chu Qiao turned her head and looked steadily at Li Ce, saying gravely: "No one would willingly wait for death, Li Ce. If all the people under heaven rise against you, can your throne remain secure?"
Li Ce was taken aback and frowned: "How could that happen?"
Chu Qiao smiled: "Why couldn't it? Just because something hasn't happened before, does that mean it never will? Three hundred years ago, could you have imagined a foreign tribe beyond the borders rising to breach the Yin Mountains, seizing the eighteen provinces of Hongchuan to establish their own kingdom and rival Biantang as an equal? Could you have imagined the Nalan Clan, leaders of their family, rebelling against the empire to establish an independent Huai Song?"
Li Ce immediately fell silent, his brow tightly furrowed.
Chu Qiao smiled faintly. Perhaps these empires were like the Xia Dynasty in Chinese history—because their authority had never been questioned by the common people, they assumed it was divinely granted, and believed those lowly subjects would submit and endure for thousands of years just the same?"Li Ce, just wait and see. Everything has changed—clinging stubbornly to past glories will no longer work. Sooner or later, you will witness the immense power of an enraged populace. That power can move mountains and fill seas, command the wind and rain, turn the world upside down. Before such force, Daxia, Yanbei, Biantang, Huai Song, even the foreign Quanrong beyond the frontier—all will appear as feeble as ants. Those who adapt to the shifting tides will emerge as the final victors."
Li Ce's face lost all trace of amusement. Frowning, he stared fixedly at Chu Qiao without uttering a word.
Chu Qiao turned to face him, her smile gentle yet her tone grave. "Li Ce, you are my friend. That is why I hope when the great wave comes, you won't be the first to be swept away by it."
A cold wind blew between them, and the man's gaze grew icy before sharpening like the edge of a blade—piercing as a swift arrow. He stared unblinkingly at Chu Qiao, silent. The wind carried the chill of night, desolate and biting. After a long while, his expression softened. He let out a light laugh and said, "Qiaoqiao, I've never heard such words before, but I find them rather intriguing. I will ponder them carefully."
Chu Qiao knew that in that moment, Li Ce had felt the urge to kill.
Yet, in the end, he did not act.
Though they represented different powers, different stances, and different regimes.
As she had said, they were friends—or perhaps there was something more between them, something neither could clearly define.
Suddenly, Chu Qiao understood something that had perplexed her for years: why, among all the feudal lords, had Emperor Xia chosen to strike first at Yanbei? Why had he killed Yanshicheng, who had been most loyal to him? If the emperor intended to weaken the feudal lords, shouldn't he have started with others—like the Ling King, the Jing King, or those unruly iron-hat princes?
But now, she suddenly grasped the reason. It was simple: because the Great Alliance Society had taken root in Yanbei, because Yanshicheng had embraced new ideologies. On the cold plateaus of Yanbei, different flowers had bloomed, bearing different fruit. In terms of alignment, Yanbei had already diverged from the empire.
It was akin to a capitalist nation suddenly hearing a political party loudly advocate for the communal ownership of all property—unacceptable and impermissible.
It was blatant opposition, an unforgivable betrayal.
Even though, at the time, the King of Yanbei might not have foreseen this outcome, and to this day, he might not even realize what he had done wrong.
Chu Qiao sighed softly, her breath dissipating gently in the silent wind.
What she did not know was that on that night, those words would alter the fates of many. At times, she was like a seed, inadvertently sowing sprouts that lay dormant beneath the snow, quietly biding their time. When spring arrived and flowers bloomed, those roots would already have dug deep.
"Qiaoqiao," Li Ce suddenly turned to her, his brow slightly furrowed as if weighing his words for a long time. "Can you tell me? Why are you so confident? You're different from those brainwashed members of the Great Alliance Society I've met. What makes you so certain? Is it... because of Yan Xun?""No," Chu Qiao shook her head. She smiled faintly and said, "Because I've seen it with my own eyes."
Li Ce froze instantly. "What?"
"You wouldn't understand." Chu Qiao gazed at the serene emerald lake, her lips curling as she suddenly chuckled softly.
No one would understand. Yes, she had witnessed it herself—she knew how this world would evolve. The old systems were destined to perish, and new ones were bound to be reborn.
I firmly believe everything just needs a guide.
"Li Ce, do you understand? This is my faith, the meaning of my existence."
————Break————
Let Chu Qiao enjoy one more night of comfort in Biantang—this place is so pleasant I almost don’t want to continue writing.
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