That night, Chu Qiao had a dream, dreaming once more of that snowy evening. The Eternal Lane of the Holy Gold Palace was so long, so silent, while songs from the front hall were carried by the wind—lively and gentle, the melody brisk, with the extravagant chimes of bronze bells resonating throughout the palace.
In the dream, someone held her hand, warm and firm, as if they would never let go.
Fresh red blood flowed from his severed finger, yet he smiled and said to her: "It's fine, it doesn't hurt at all."
That smile was like mist, enveloping her heart, making her feel for many years that it was so warm there, even if outside there were endless snowy mountains or pouring rain.
When she woke, tears had soaked most of her pillow, the shallow watermarks dampening the rose-colored soft pillow, crimson like blood-stained rouge.
Chu Qiao sat there in panic, for so long, so long, until she suddenly felt she could wait no longer.
Even though the palace servants had been busy holding umbrellas for half the night, they still couldn't prevent the lotus leaves from withering. Each autumn rain brought more chill, and by morning, the entire pond of green lotuses had withered, their black stems tangled together, bumping against each other, as if even the pond water had turned murky.
And the chrysanthemums had bloomed too early. Unfazed by the continuous rain, the cold weather, and the swift wind, the ground was covered with yellow flowers, withered—yet one couldn't tell which palace or hall's beauty they resembled.
During breakfast, she heard that the newly appointed palace maid, arrogant from favor, had offended Li Ce's taboos and had been confined to the cold chamber. Although Li Ce hadn't ordered punishment, the woman had been quite domineering during her few days of favor, and now that she had fallen from grace, several consorts from different palaces had joined forces to meddle a little. With the autumn chill and the cold chamber being remote and without fire or candles, after such torment, grief and worry would likely make it hard for her to survive.
The palace maids only discussed the matter briefly, not paying much attention—clearly, such things were commonplace here and not particularly surprising.
Yet Chu Qiao felt a slight pang of sorrow. She didn't know Li Ce well, and what she had seen was mostly his playful, smiling demeanor. Though she knew this person was not simple, she couldn't help but let her guard down.
After all, he was the Crown Prince of Biantang, the future ruler of a nation.
After breakfast, she wanted to send someone to request an audience with Li Ce. But before Qiusui could leave, Chan'er came running back in a fluster, panting as she cried out, "The Daxia princess has entered the city!"
Chu Qiao was startled, and Qiusui quickly asked, "Which Daxia princess? Wasn't she just driven away? How could she return so soon?"
"Not that princess," Chan'er hastily waved her hand, saying, "It's the Eighth Princess of Daxia. She came alone on horseback and has already arrived at Qin'an Hall. The Emperor and the Crown Prince have rushed there. It's said she's here for a marriage alliance!"
Upon hearing this, Chu Qiao's mind sharpened instantly, as if something inside her snapped, causing an uncontrollable tremor.
That delicate and fragile golden branch and jade leaf of the past—had she already become so brave today?
Suffering truly is the best catalyst for all growth in this world.Many years later, when future historians opened the heavy annals, they would still furrow their brows and sigh at this sudden turn of events. Anyone with even slight knowledge of that period would never forget this name—Zhao Chun, the Eighth Princess of Daxia. This woman, who had shown no exceptional talent or brilliance in previous records, rose to power at a speed that would make any man sigh in awe, while her ruthless and merciless methods ultimately plunged the entire society into a cataclysmic storm of blood and fire. Her life was like a dazzling meteor—suddenly illuminating heaven and earth, then abruptly vanishing into nothingness.
People often wonder: if King Xiuli had not risen to power years later, would the world's situation have taken a different path because of this woman?
Yet history remains history, unchangeable by anyone. Regardless of how future generations judge right and wrong, no one can obscure the fact that Zhao Chun'er was the only female power holder on the Ximeng Continent who could rival King Xiuli. Of course, this excludes Nalan Hongye, the Princess of Huai Song who ultimately retreated from public life. In any case, the bloody tapestry of Ximeng Continent was too vast—filled with gathered stars of generals, dazzling brilliance, and countless tales of love and hatred, flesh and bone—and Zhao Chun'er undoubtedly shone brightly among them.
Let us collectively remember this day: the first day of September, Biantang's Chongming Festival. The people climbed high to gaze into the distance, mourning departed loved ones and remembering distant homelands. The long streets were filled with the fragrance of wine and lined with goods, while blue and white robes spread throughout the city, creating a solemn, ancient atmosphere. On this very day, the city gates swung open with a roar. Zhao Chun'er, the Eighth Princess of Daxia, who had traveled day and night on horseback alone, entered the ancient city walls four days after her sister was expelled from the imperial city. Holding the golden command token of Emperor Xia, she declared clearly: "I am Zhao Chun of Daxia, requesting an audience with the ruler of Biantang!"
Time had scattered, and the young girl with hanging hair had long grown into an elegant woman. Her sharp and noble countenance now resembled mist and clouds in a painting, her dazzling eyes enough to make observers dizzy.
Yet who still remembered that long ago, she had been pure and kind-hearted, with a clear, bright smile? Dressed in a lotus-root-colored long dress and holding a rabbit's tail, she had giggled charmingly: "Brother Xun, thank you, Chun'er is so happy..."
Time passes so swiftly, past events scatter like smoke and clouds. Some things will eventually become the past, some feelings will ultimately be buried by white bones, some blood will forever flow between heaven and earth, and some loves and hatreds will achieve eternity through death.
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The continuous cold rain fell on the broad, thick paulownia leaves, creating a sound like flowing water. Yan Xun sat on horseback wearing a raincoat, his clear eyes carrying a cold loneliness. A Jing followed one horse length behind, softly reporting newly arrived information.
The sunlight was hazy and gray. Yan Xun's face bore an almost transparent pallor, yet his back remained straight as a spear. His gaze stretched into the distance, fixed on the city faintly visible through the thick fog.
The ancient city lay hidden among layers of mountains and water mist, like a colossal beast quietly lying in wait for the footsteps of those bold enough to challenge its dignity."Master, Li Ce has expelled Zhao Yan from Biantang's borders, causing an uproar within the Daxia military. Several border prefects near Biantang have already prepared for battle, yet Emperor Xia has issued no declarations of war and continues preparing for the capital relocation."
"Hmm," Yan Xun responded softly without further comment.
"The Eighth Princess of Daxia received a carrier pigeon message three days ago and departed overnight. It seems she didn't obtain Emperor Xia's approval and is about to enter the city now."
Yan Xun remained silent. A Jing grew anxious and asked, "Since she lacks imperial authorization or documentation, should we exploit this situation?"
Yan Xun's eyebrows lifted slightly as he slowly turned. His gaze resembled frozen Mirror Lake, fixed steadily on A Jing yet revealing no discernible emotion.
A Jing felt somewhat unsettled, though more nervous than anything. Having followed Yan Xun for years, he'd noticed how the man's aura and eyes had grown increasingly sharp since leaving Zhenhuang. This person was like a sharp sword—once kept in a box, but now, freed from its concealing case, his brilliance had become too dazzling to behold directly.
"Emperor Xia will approve. Daxia won't go to war with Biantang. The document approving Zhao Chun'er's marriage alliance will arrive soon."
Yan Xun's tone remained light, as if discussing trivial matters, yet carried unshakable conviction. He gazed again toward Biantang's misty rains, frowning slightly as he murmured, "The Crown Prince of Tang expelled a Daxia princess for the sake of a woman. What deeper meaning lies behind this?"
A Jing added, "I heard she's a woman greatly favored by the Crown Prince of Tang."
"Do you think Li Ce is a fool?" Yan Xun snorted coldly. "There must be some underlying reason I haven't yet discerned. How could Li Ce be someone who starts wars over a beauty?"
What Yan Xun didn't know was that he was overthinking this time. Every person has multiple facets and moments of irrationality—himself included.
"Additionally, according to scout reports, the Fourth Young Master of the Zhuge family has been fighting over a dozen rounds in the Pinggui Wasteland, making life miserable for the horse gangs there. Rumor has it a friend of his suffered a covert loss at the hands of those bandits days ago, so he's seeking retribution. He should be returning soon, though we haven't spotted the young lady. That brat from the Ouyang family has appeared several times, staying close to Zhuge Yue."
"Continue surveillance. Where that child is, A Chu will likely be nearby. She's always been stubbornly loyal. Once we reach Tang Capital, we'll have opportunities to meet her."
Yan Xun sighed softly before continuing, "Knowing her whereabouts puts my mind at ease."
"Also, Zhuge Yue's extreme anger suggests he suffered significant losses in the Pinggui Wasteland. Chief Escort Yu mentioned A Chu had been injured earlier—could it have been those people's doing?"
A Jing hesitated, "This... I'm not certain, subordinate."
Yan Xun frowned slightly, a faint ruthlessness gleaming in his eyes. He massaged his temples with slender fingers and said quietly, "Investigate this. If true, eradicate all horse gangs in that area to tidy up Zhuge Yue's mess. Consider it our wedding gift to Li Ce."
"Understood!"The air was fresh after the rain. Yan Xun gazed at the towering city walls veiled in mist and clouds, a faint smile gracing his lips as he murmured softly, "Long time no see."
His smile was subtle, yet there was no trace of warmth in his eyes. His words were equally ambiguous—"long time no see"—but who was he referring to? The ancient city of Tang Capital? Or perhaps the people within its walls?
In the misty rains of September, nestled among the layered mountains, the millennia-old capital once again radiated youthful vitality. Under the guise of the wealthy merchant Liu Xi from Xianyang, Yan Xun led a grand procession of carriages and horses, adorned with riches and silks, approaching this ancient city.
Unbeknownst to him, the soft sigh he had inadvertently let slip that day had already revealed his identity. The young woman, after parting ways, had changed her route and followed him all the way. Now, she waited quietly within those city walls, anticipating his arrival.
Such is the wonder of fate—like a giant hand, it forcibly gathers all things together, awaiting the mix of joy and awkwardness upon reunion. Every emotion seemed to be waiting for an outlet, seeking to erupt with the greatest intensity.
The wheels rumbled on, and in the blink of an eye, Tang Capital was right before them.
Meanwhile, on an ancient road less than a hundred li behind Yan Xun, a cavalry of over two hundred riders galloped at full speed.
At the forefront was a man in purple robes, with sharp brows and starry eyes, crimson lips, and a gaze as piercing as an eagle's, leading the charge on horseback.
The cavalry halted at the foot of a mountain. Zhu Cheng stepped forward and reported in a low voice, "Fourth Young Master, we should arrive by evening."
Zhuge Yue nodded and said, "Go and make preparations."
As soon as Zhu Cheng withdrew, a small head popped out from the arms of one of Zhuge Yue's subordinates, shouting, "Uncle, are we almost there?"
Zhuge Yue turned to see Mo'er, her hair tousled by the wind, cheeks flushed, but her eyes no longer held the innocence and simplicity of before.
He nodded. "Soon."
The child turned to gaze at the muddy road ahead, suddenly raising a finger and exclaiming loudly, "Uncle, there's a rainbow!"
Zhuge Yue focused his gaze and saw a rainbow arching across the horizon, breaking through the clouds, its radiance shimmering like a woman's dazzling smile.
His hand brushed against the Moon Breaker sword at his waist as he delivered a sharp whip to his horse's flank, coldly commanding, "Hyah!"
Hooves thundered, dust billowed, and in an instant, they were already a hundred paces away.
Meanwhile, on the streets of Tang Capital, a man dressed in scholarly blue robes, carrying a book bag on his back and sweating profusely, was being frantically pursued by a group of soldiers.
Panting heavily and running clumsily—clearly a bookworm unaccustomed to physical exertion—he shouted and yelled as he fled, dropping scrolls left and right in a pitiful state.
A passerby tugged at a street vendor's sleeve and asked curiously, "Shopkeeper, what crime did that man commit to be chased by the soldiers like that?"
"Oh, him!"
The vendor's eyes lit up, suddenly energized, and he launched into an animated explanation, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby pedestrians.
"That bookworm is an outsider. Seems he got separated from his wife and has been posting paintings and writings all over the streets to find her. With the Crown Prince's wedding approaching, the authorities won't allow such postings. But he just won't learn—he's already been thrown in jail twice. He was just released today, and now he's back to his old tricks."Upon hearing this, the surrounding crowd immediately broke into animated discussions. Some called the scholar pedantic and foolish, others praised him for valuing loyalty and righteousness, while some criticized the officials for being overly rigid and lacking compassion.
Though the scholar's movements were somewhat clumsy, his mind was quite sharp. Having been captured frequently lately, he had likely gleaned some experience from these encounters. After chasing for a while, the soldiers realized their target had vanished, and they returned grumbling and cursing in frustration.
Just then, the street vendor suddenly felt someone tugging at his back. Turning around, he discovered a man crouching inside his vegetable basket, looking furtive yet attempting to communicate. Covering his mouth with his hand, the man whispered, "Sir, you are mistaken. The person in the portrait is my friend, not a married woman. Spreading such rumors could damage her reputation. She is unmarried, and her honor is extremely precious. You must not speak carelessly."
"Ah!" The vendor's face instantly changed, as if bitten by a dog, and he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, "He's here! Officers, the man is here!"
In an instant, the long street erupted into chaos once more...
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Dear readers, wishing you a joyful Mid-Autumn Festival and a happy family reunion!
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