The vast and silent Qingyuan Hall stood amidst a ten-mile lotus pond, built with premium nanmu wood into a waterside pavilion open to the breeze. On all sides, the lake water was clear and blue, with the sky and water merging into a single azure expanse. Bamboo blinds woven with Xiangfei bamboo patterns hung half-open and half-drawn, elegant and pristine as orchids. Though lotus flowers had faded in this season, the palace’s skillful maids crafted artificial leaves and blossoms from white and jade-green silk, letting them float upon the water. From afar, as the wind stirred, the silk leaves swayed gently, their jade-green hue so vivid they seemed real. The scenery of the Huai Song imperial palace was exquisite, rivaling even the grandeur of Biantang’s Jinwu Palace.
With the Qinyuan Hall currently under renovation and reconstruction, Nalan Hongye had moved the court to Qingyuan Hall. After the morning court session, she lifted the bamboo blind and stepped out slowly, only to find Nalan Hongyu leaning back in the dazzling golden dragon throne, a long trail of drool on his chin, snoring softly—clearly having been asleep for quite some time.
Recalling the looks in the court officials’ eyes as they departed, the elder princess couldn’t help but frown slightly. A young eunuch, noticing this, quickly and carefully nudged Nalan Hongyu’s shoulder and called out softly, "Your Majesty? Your Majesty?"
The young emperor woke groggily, frowning as if about to lose his temper, but upon seeing his elder sister standing before him, he grew frightened at once. He rose awkwardly, rubbed his eyes, and murmured, "Elder Sister."
By then, everyone else had left the hall, leaving only the Nalan siblings and a personal eunuch. Nalan frowned lightly, her tone calm yet carrying an inexplicable authority as she said slowly, "Have I not told you that you must not sleep during court sessions?"
The emperor hung his head like a child caught misbehaving and mumbled, "You... you have."
"Then why did you do it again?"
The young emperor lowered his head in admission of his fault. "Elder Sister, I was wrong."
Nalan raised an eyebrow. "Have I not taught you how to refer to yourself?"
"Huh?" Nalan Hongyu stared blankly, seemingly unable to grasp her meaning. The eunuch hastily leaned in and whispered a reminder. The emperor promptly nodded and said, "Elder Sister, I—no, zhen was wrong. Zhen knows it was wrong."
"Since you know you were wrong, go copy the Records of Morality ten times. No meals until you finish."
"Ah?" The emperor’s face fell instantly. Without even a glance, Nalan turned and walked out. The hall stood empty, while outside, the sunlight was bright and the wind blew from all directions, rustling the Xiangfei bamboo blinds and brushing against the golden bells beneath them, producing a soft, tinkling sound. Nalan’s deep blue court robes swept gracefully across the heavy floor, embroidered with a pattern of a hundred birds in shimmering gold thread, the stitches fine and dense—every detail exuding the dignity and authority of the royal family.
"Your Highness," Aunt Yun, who had been waiting outside, hurried over and draped a soft cloak over her shoulders. It was already November, and though Huai Song’s climate was mild, the morning and evening winds had grown chilly.
"Your Highness, shall we return to the palace?"
Nalan shook her head. That day, King Changling and Prince Jinjiang had been evasive and ambiguous, downplaying the severity of the East Sea pirate troubles—a matter that demanded vigilance. In a grave tone, she said, "Summon Xuan Mo to the palace. I have urgent matters to discuss with him."
"Yes," Aunt Yun replied promptly, then asked, "Your Highness, shall you receive Lord Xuan here in Qingyuan Hall? But... His Majesty is still inside..."Aunt Yun hesitated to speak, and Nalan, following her gaze, turned to look back. The vast palace was enveloped in silence and desolation, with dark wooden floors stretching across the hall, accentuating its stern and cold atmosphere. The young emperor sat alone on the steps, his head drooping, the bright beads of his crown dangling on either side, shimmering and translucent. Sunlight pierced through the beaded curtain, casting a dazzling glow upon them, and along those rays, one could even see dust motes dancing in the air. The bright yellow dragon robe only highlighted the sorrow in his expression, making him seem like a neglected child.
Yet, his sadness and distress were likely only because he had to copy the Classic of the Way and Virtue ten times—not due to the floods in Qiubei, the pirates in the East Sea, the lawsuits in the Judicial Office, or the disputes in the court. Once he finished copying the text, he would set his mind at ease, eat and sleep well, and enjoy cricket fights, carefree and happy, even though he bore the weight of an entire nation on his shoulders.
Nalan couldn’t tell whether her heart felt joy or sorrow; it was as if a vast snowfall drifted within her chest. Standing alone, she gazed at the endless expanse of blue waves, where silk flowers floated like mist, ethereal and delicate. The wind stirred the clear ripples across the pond, and in the far distance, the music of pipes and strings from the Hall of Joy and Pleasure drifted over. Beneath the facade of revelry and prosperity lay a faint pallor, thinly veiled by opulence.
"Let’s go to the Qingzhi Palace."
By evening, Xuan Mo had left the palace. Aunt Yun brought in the maidservants carrying the long-prepared meal, but Nalan had little appetite and only ate a few bites lightly. Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the door—someone seemed to be running, panting and shouting, "Your Highness! Your Highness, something terrible has happened!"
"What’s the matter?" Nalan raised an eyebrow, and Aunt Yun hurried out to inquire. But before she could ask, the eunuch rushed in directly, tears streaming down his face, and threw himself to the ground with a thud, wailing loudly:
"Your Highness, it’s awful! The Emperor just climbed onto the roof of the Hall of Joy and Pleasure to play and accidentally fell off!"
The fading glow of the setting sun dyed the palace in a bloody hue. Within the imperial grounds, guards were strictly stationed, with patrols and checkpoints everywhere. All palace gates were sealed, forbidding any entry or exit. Most of the important court officials had already arrived, their dark blue court robes kneeling in a dense mass across the floor. As she entered, their bowed heads gradually lifted, their varied gazes mingling with the cold twilight outside the hall—a mix of awe, fear, suspicion, disdain, anger, and restraint. All these emotions leaked out in that fleeting glance before settling back into calm, their heads bowing once more.
Nalan wore a deep purple satin robe embroidered with gold and silver cloud patterns, with large, intricate roses adorning her elegant stand-up collar, accentuating her long, snow-white neck and dignified face. Step by step, she walked through Moji Hall, surrounded by an atmosphere of cold solemnity. Prince Jinjiang stood at the forefront of the officials and hurried forward upon seeing her, but a young man in a deep blue python-patterned robe shoved him, nearly causing him to fall.
Xuan Mo, his eyes filled with anxiety, rushed forward a few steps, ignoring the furious glare from Prince Jinjiang behind him. He moved closer but hesitated, words caught in his throat.
"How is the Emperor?"Nalan spoke in a low voice, her expression calm, showing no signs of collapse or emotional turmoil. The probing gazes from all around instantly revealed a hint of disappointment. Xuan Mo shook his head and said gravely, "The imperial physicians say it's beyond remedy, Princess. Please go in and see him."
In that instant, the heart she had kept suspended all along plummeted—yet not to a distant place. Every pair of eyes turned toward her, sharp as thorns. Nalan suddenly recalled the night many years ago when her father passed away—still in the Moji Palace, still these court robes and scrutinizing gazes, still this same drizzling rain, the surroundings icy cold, breathing still labored. Yet she slowly drew breath, then swallowed it, swallowing it all down, burying every emotion within a rationality already aching to the point of death.
She slowly stepped forward, passing through the crowd. Palace maids on either side lifted the curtains, and she entered the resplendent bedchamber alone.
The golden light stung her eyes. Pressing her lips tightly together, she passed through layers of drapes. The chamber was so hot it felt suffocating. Her younger brother lay on the wide dragon bed, his face deathly pale, yet his eyes startlingly bright. He lay flat, his eye sockets sunken, cheeks dark and bruised, lips chapped, with crimson blood on his head.
Her eyes suddenly burned with heat, yet she forcibly held back. From all directions came unfathomable stares. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out, unsure where to touch, and could only softly call, "Yu'er?"
Hearing the voice, the emperor slowly turned his head. At the sight of her, his first reaction was one of fear and apprehension. His voice was hoarse as he attempted to explain, "Elder Sister, I... I haven't finished writing yet..."
Her eyes welled up, nearly shedding tears. Nalan sat by the bedside, placing a hand on his shoulder, and said gently, "You don't need to write anymore. From now on, Elder Sister will never punish you again."
"Really?" The young emperor's eyes suddenly blazed with intense light. He asked eagerly, like someone in perfect health, "Really, Elder Sister?"
In a daze, she recalled the moment her father had passed away years ago. A vast, icy coldness spread through Nalan's heart. Pressing her lips together, she nodded. "Yes, Elder Sister keeps her word."
"That's wonderful!"
The emperor lay back again, his eyes fixed blankly on the bed's canopy drapes—layer upon layer embroidered with golden Coiled Dragons, their claws ferocious like monsters thirsting for blood.
"That's wonderful, then I can... I can..."
He never managed to say what he could do. The emperor's gaze was peculiar, as if he had never shown such blazing intensity in his entire life. He stiffly raised his neck, his face flushed with excitement, gripping Nalan's hand tightly. He tried to speak, but it was as if a fishbone were stuck in his throat—only fragmented breaths emerged, words failing him entirely.
The imperial physicians rushed forward at once, a dark mass of figures swirling before their eyes. The young eunuch who had attended the emperor since childhood knelt weeping on the floor, crying out, "Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
"What was His Majesty trying to say?" Nalan turned abruptly, her eyes slightly reddened, and demanded of the young eunuch, "Do you know?""Your Highness..." The young eunuch knelt on the ground, seemingly terrified out of his wits, weeping incoherently: "His Majesty climbed onto the roof of Yile Hall, saying he wanted to see what lies beyond the palace walls. He said he had never been outside, Your Majesty... Your Majesty..."
Sorrow rose from her chest like icy snow, spreading throughout her entire body. The imperial physicians were in chaos, while Nalan Hongyu's face remained flushed as he continued to hoarsely repeat: "Can... can..."
Nalan grabbed the emperor's hand: "Yu'er, once you recover, your elder sister will take you out of the palace!"
A flicker of joy instantly brightened the emperor's eyes. He closed his mouth, simply gazing brightly at his sister with clear, innocent eyes like a child who hadn't yet grown up.
Suddenly, the hand clutching Nalan's sleeve went limp, his breathing ceased abruptly, and his head fell heavily with a dull thud.
"Your Majesty!"
"Your Majesty!"
Tremendous wails immediately erupted both inside and outside the hall. The continuous funeral bells resounded throughout the entire palace. The setting sun vanished its last ray of light as the earth descended into darkness. Pale white lanterns were hung everywhere, accompanied by people's cries and mourning. Yet, how much of this was genuine and how much was feigned, no one could discern anymore.
"The Emperor has passed away—"
The eunuch's sharp, drawn-out announcement echoed through the halls. Nalan Hongye stood apart from the crowd, watching the numerous weeping old ministers. They clustered in distinct factions, loudly lamenting together. Though there were so many people, she still felt the hall was empty. As the sun set and the pale moon rose, its cold light streamed through the drawn windows onto her slender back, like freezing snow—so cold, so piercing.
The Song Emperor's grand funeral brought nationwide mourning. For one month, marriages were forbidden, and everyone wore plain white garments to mourn this rare benevolent ruler. The cold wind swept through wormwood grass. Just as northwest military conflicts were about to erupt, Huai Song was struck by national mourning. The military exercises originally assembled at the border to help Yanbei contain Daxia's forces were forced to cease. Huai Song was shrouded in gloom and despair.
After Emperor Mingren's passing, Nalan Hongye announced the imperial decree, establishing the late emperor's eldest son Nalan Heqing as successor, with the new reign title Mingde.
However, on the very night the emperor died, Nalan fell gravely ill. Years of exhaustion erupted like a sudden blaze, devastating her entire spirit. The moment she stepped out of Moji Hall, a metallic taste of blood surged to her throat, nearly causing her to vomit. Staggering slightly, Aunt Yun hurried forward to support her arm. Surrounded by suspicious court officials, she knew she couldn't spit out this blood. So she forced it down, nauseated yet maintaining composure as she gently pushed away Aunt Yun's arm.
The Nalan line had no one left. Now, aside from her ailing mother and infant nephew, only she remained. The majestic Nalan Clan genealogy and vast territories once again rested solely on her shoulders. Therefore, she couldn't collapse, couldn't show weakness, couldn't even weep. If she fell, the Nalan Clan's thousand-year foundation would crumble.
She straightened her back with determination, announced the decree with measured dignity, arranged funeral matters, stabilized the people, then returned to her chambers. Sitting silently through the night by lamplight, candle wax dripping silently, her eyes gradually grew hollow and cold—yet no tears fell.The emperor's funeral arrangements were entirely entrusted to Prince An Ling and Xuan Mo to oversee. The next day, local garrison officials sent representatives to the capital to pay their respects. Nalan presided over the central palace, coordinating all matters. Although the emperor had passed away, the Crown Prince had long been established, and the pillar of the state, Princess Nalan, remained. Thus, no major upheavals occurred.
The following day, Nalan led her entourage to the chambers of Empress Cui, intending to escort the new emperor to the ancestral temple. However, before she could step into the main hall, a sharp blade came flying toward her face. With a swift motion, Xuan Mo drew his sword, deflected the weapon, and positioned himself protectively in front of Nalan. The surrounding guards were greatly alarmed, and someone shouted, "Assassin!" Just as they were about to charge into the hall, Empress Cui's voice rang out shrilly: "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Cui Wanru rushed out, her hair disheveled, clutching her child in one arm and a pair of scissors in the other. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice was hoarse as she screamed, "You vile woman! You murdered the emperor, and now you've come to harm my child! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Nalan's face turned pale, but her lips remained tightly pressed together. Aunt Yun quickly intervened, "Your Majesty, what nonsense are you speaking?"
"I'm not speaking nonsense! I know everything!"
Cui Wanru let out a rasping, cold laugh. "You ambitious woman! You want to be emperor, so you killed the emperor, and now you're here to kill my child! I won't let you succeed!"
Nalan suddenly felt exhausted. The sunlight was glaring, and the air was thick with furious curses. She turned away coldly and issued a calm order: "The Empress is unwell and can no longer properly care for the Emperor. Take the Emperor away."
Xuan Mo replied respectfully, "Understood. And what of the Empress?"
The emperor had just died, and the court was unstable. Cui Wanru's father was the Grand Commandant of the court. If she were to serve as Empress Dowager and assist in governance, the power of her maternal clan would instantly rise. Moreover, the Grand Commandant Cui was also the teacher of Prince Jinjiang...
"The Empress is deeply principled and has vowed to follow the late emperor. Grant her poisoned wine and a white silk ribbon. Escort her on her final journey."
The sunlight was harsh, but dark clouds gathered in the northwest. The curses behind her grew louder. Nalan lifted her head, thinking to herself, "It's going to rain."
———
Summoning her strength, Nalan handled the affairs of the former court. By the time she returned from the front hall, it was already late at night. Xuan Mo walked at the rear, several times seeming on the verge of speaking but ultimately sighing in resignation. Before departing, he advised, "The dead cannot return to life. Please ease your heart, Princess, and do not let grief harm your health."
Nalan nodded and replied in a formal tone, "Prince Xuan has worked hard."
"Ah!" Xuan Mo did not respond but instead let out a long sigh. Nalan was slightly taken aback and looked up to see his honest face now tinged with desolation and loneliness. He finally sighed softly and said, "Take care of yourself, Princess. Leave everything to me. Even if I must sacrifice my life, I will not fail in my duty."
With that, he turned and left, his solitary figure appearing somewhat detached and lonely under the moonlight.
When she returned to her chambers, she could hear a child crying loudly from afar. The wet nurse was trying to soothe Qing'er, but the child continued to wail, his little face flushed red. In just two days, he had lost both his parents, and his mother had been sent to her death by his own aunt. If this child were to learn of all this when he grew up, she wondered if he would hate her.
Leaning against the long window, lost in thought, she gazed at the bright, jade-like full moon. Its clear light spilled across the ground, illuminating everything.Aunt Yun carefully carried Qing'er over and said with a gentle smile, "Your Highness, His Majesty is smiling."
Nalan took the child and indeed saw him staring at her with wide, bright eyes, his mouth curling into a joyful grin. The heavy sorrow in her heart gradually dissipated as she held the child, gazing at his familiar features, which suddenly reminded her of her younger brother.
When he was alive, she had occasionally felt resentment, cursing the heavens for giving him a male body but a feeble mind—unable to understand hardship or discern affairs, needlessly squandering Huai Song's century-old legacy. As for herself, despite her remarkable talents, she was confined by her womanhood. Years of painstaking planning had still earned her the infamous reputation of a power-hungry usurper. Yet, only after his passing did she suddenly realize they were one entity—when one suffered, both suffered; when one prospered, both prospered. Only with Hong Yu still present could she stabilize the Great Song's throne and uphold the Nalan Clan's honor.
Fortunately, fortunately, there was still Qing'er.
She lowered her head, looking at the tiny infant in the swaddling clothes, and felt a sharp ache in her eyes. Thankfully, there was him—now, the Nalan Clan consisted only of the two of them, aunt and nephew.
"Your Highness, look how adorable the little emperor is!"
Aunt Yun smiled and gently touched the emperor's small cheek. Qing'er seemed delighted, waving his plump little hands and giggling, his dark eyes fixed on Nalan as if he understood her thoughts.
Just then, a sharp "clatter" rang out. Both Nalan and Aunt Yun were startled and turned to see a palace maid who had knocked over a teacup.
Aunt Yun angrily scolded, "Useless fool! You've frightened His Majesty and Her Highness—watch your life!"
Nalan also frowned slightly, softly patting Qing'er's swaddling clothes, afraid he might be frightened. Yet, he remained cheerful and giggling, seemingly unafraid.
Aunt Yun smiled and said, "Your Highness, see how brave the little emperor is! He will surely grow into a wise and mighty emperor."
Nalan smiled faintly, but before the smile could reach her eyes, she suddenly froze, her face turning deathly pale.
Aunt Yun, puzzled, asked, "Your Highness, what's wrong?"
Nalan's hands and feet turned icy cold. Though she repeatedly reassured herself in her heart, she quickly handed the child to Aunt Yun and stepped aside, sharply clapping her hands.
"Smack!"
A sharp sound echoed right by the child's ear, yet he remained completely unaware, stretching his chubby hand to grab the button on Aunt Yun's robe, giggling happily.
Growing frantic, Nalan continued clapping, her eyes reddening, calling out as she clapped, "Qing'er! Qing'er! Look over here, Auntie is here!"
But the child never turned his head. He drowsily let out a small yawn, then nestled his head against Aunt Yun's chest and closed his eyes to sleep.
"Qing'er, don't sleep! Qing'er, Auntie is here!"
"Your Highness!"
Aunt Yun was already in tears, falling to her knees with a thud and weeping, "Please, stop calling, stop calling."
Nalan, agitated, grabbed Aunt Yun's shoulders and demanded angrily, "What's going on? What in the world is happening?"Aunt Yun, her face streaked with tears, sobbed, "I knew it the moment the child was brought back. I summoned the imperial physician from the Empress's palace, and under severe torture, he confessed. It turns out the Empress had known all along but kept it hidden. She feared that if it were revealed, the child could never become the Crown Prince. For the past year, she has been seeking treatment, but this illness was congenital—utterly incurable..."
Nalan felt the world spin around her. Qing'er was deaf! Qing'er was deaf! This truth shattered her completely, like a drowning person losing their last piece of driftwood. The restraint and grief she had endured for days surged forth like a torrential flood. A sweet taste rose in her throat, and a gush of warm blood suddenly sprayed from her mouth, staining the front of her robes entirely.
"Your Highness! Your Highness!"
Aunt Yun was greatly alarmed. She set down the emperor and rushed to support her. Qing'er, suddenly placed on the ground, opened her eyes and looked around in confusion before bursting into loud, distressed cries. Maidservants hurried into the room in unison, and chaos filled the chamber. Aunt Yun shouted, "Summon the imperial physician! Summon the imperial physician!"
Nalan drifted in and out of consciousness, only one phrase echoing repeatedly in her mind: Heaven's justice is clear—retribution is inevitable.
Yes, she had killed Cui Wanru, but this Empress had also left her with an immense catastrophe.
If she had known earlier, she would not have hesitated due to Hong Yu's reluctance. She would have filled his harem with more consorts to bear heirs, and they would not have faced such desolation today. But now, it was all too late. Everything was beyond remedy.
Her tears finally poured forth uncontrollably. With crimson lips trembling in sorrow, she cried out, "Imperial Father, Imperial Father, your daughter deserves ten thousand deaths!"
Each time she awoke, she found herself surrounded by people, yet Nalan kept her eyes shut. For the first time in five years, she was indulging in such willfulness, wishing only to sleep and ignore all matters. Gradually, however, the surroundings grew quiet. A figure stood before her, lingering for a long while without leaving.
She opened her eyes. Moonlight streamed through the carved lattice windows, spilling over the desk. The solemn chants from the ancestral temple, carried by the cold wind, pierced through the tall, thick palace walls to reach her ears—a stark reminder of the present time and place.
"I have kept the emperor's deafness concealed. Apart from those within this palace, no one else will know," Xuan Mo said softly from beside her bed. His voice was pleasant, like a gentle breeze rustling through reeds, deep and soothing. The candlelight cast shadows on his sharply defined face, revealing a subtle resilience edged with quiet intensity.
"Before the emperor comes of age to rule, we have at least a decade or more to strategize. Though he is deaf, once he reaches fifteen, marries, and produces an heir, Huai Song will still have hope. Your Highness is the pillar of Great Song, the sole hope of the Nalan Clan. If you fall, the emperor will surely be deposed. The imperial house will wither, outsiders will seize power, Huai Song will fracture, war will erupt, and the people will suffer. The foundation laid by our ancestors will crumble in an instant. Your Highness, with your grand aspirations, would never stand by and watch Huai Song fall and our legacy vanish."
Nalan lifted her head and gazed at this man who had grown up alongside her. A wave of sorrow suddenly welled in her heart.
Indeed, she had already considered everything he said. But what an arduous path lay ahead!
"Xuan Mo, thank you."
It had been a long time since she last called him by his name. Xuan Mo was momentarily taken aback, a flicker of emotion crossing his eyes, yet he replied with respectful courtesy, "It is merely my duty."
Nalan sat up, coughing lightly twice. Her face was as pale as paper. She smiled faintly and said, "You have matured greatly, already bearing the demeanor of your uncle."
Prince An Ling was Xuan Mo's father, once a general under Nalan Lie. For saving Nalan Lie's life during the southern campaign, he was granted the surname Nalan and entered into the imperial lineage.
Xuan Mo bowed and replied, "Thank you for your praise, Your Highness."
"I heard Yushu is with child. Is it true?"
Xuan Mo's expression stiffened instantly, his brows furrowing tightly. After a long pause, he finally answered in a low voice, "Yes."Nalan smiled and said, "Yushu is virtuous and talented. You must treat her well."
Xuan Mo replied in a rather stiff tone, devoid of joy or sorrow, "I must also thank Your Highness for the grace of arranging this marriage."
The great hall was vast, with Buddhist chants growing louder amidst the mourning cries of the court officials. They looked at each other but suddenly found themselves at a loss for words. Xuan Mo took a letter from his bosom—the envelope intact and unopened—and handed it to Nalan, saying, "A letter from Yanbei has arrived."
A glimmer of light instantly flashed in Nalan's ashen eyes. She almost impatiently snatched it from him. Xuan Mo's gaze slightly hardened, his brow furrowing as if veiled by an impenetrable layer of ice and snow. He quietly stepped back and said softly, "This humble subject takes his leave."
"Mm," Nalan replied. Though she smiled, her voice already carried a trace of distraction.
The long lamp cast a lonely glow, illuminating only a slender, solitary shadow.
By the time Aunt Yun entered, Nalan had already returned to her usual composure. After the imperial physician checked her pulse and she took her medicine, the palace maids gradually withdrew. Seated before the desk, she repeatedly caressed the small letter, a wave of sorrow rising in her heart—so much so that she seemed afraid to open it. The candle crackled, and the world was enveloped in silence. The room was filled with the fragrance of Mihé incense, its smoke curling upward like a wisp of dark cloud.
"My dear brother Xuan Mo, the war in Yanbei has concluded. Your elder brother is safe and sound, so do not worry. This time, I am deeply indebted to you for your efforts in mediating, securing provisions and military supplies, and using the forces of that country to contain the eastern army of Daxia. However, the outcome of the war between Xia and Yan remains uncertain, and I have no absolute assurance of victory. Therefore, you must not overly favor Yanbei, lest someone at court use it as a pretext to attack you. The officialdom is treacherous; you must be exceedingly cautious. If my foolish actions were to implicate you, I could never atone for the regret in my heart, even with ten thousand deaths.
On the day Daxia's troops withdraw, it will be the day of your elder brother's wedding. If you can attend, I will surely welcome you with the utmost haste. It has been ten years since we last met, and I miss you dearly."
Tears, in the end, fell drop by drop onto the pure white paper, all her grief and bitterness dissolving into these clear teardrops. She had endured for too long, suppressed for too long, and persevered for too long. Heaped upon her heart was a weariness and desolation that bled sorrow. Affairs of state and family—and now, added to them were those words she had long understood: "On the day Daxia's troops withdraw, it will be the day of your elder brother's wedding." Her vision gradually blurred. Outside the window, the wind and rain were bleak, mirroring the desolation in her heart—a vast, blank whiteness. Dipping the brush fully into the thick ink, she listened to the rain pattering against the plantain leaves and, with a bitter smile, began to write:
"What night is tonight, that I row my boat in the midstream?
What day is today, that I share a boat with the prince?
I bear shame yet am treated well, disregarding slander and disgrace.
My heart is troubled and unceasing, for I have come to know the prince—
The mountains have trees and the trees have branches;
I adore you, but do you know it or not?"*
By the time she reached the final strokes, her handwriting had become disordered. She slumped over the desk, her eyes blurred with tears, and thus fell into a deep sleep.
When Aunt Yun entered, she nearly shed tears herself. The princess, who had governed for many years, had never been so discomposed before. After helping her onto the bed to rest, Aunt Yun returned to the desk and saw that the reply had already been written—again addressed to the Prince of Yanbei. She felt somewhat displeased but did not read the contents of the letter lying on the desk. Folding it, she placed it in an envelope, sealed it with wax, and handed it to a palace maid, saying, "Deliver this to the Xuan King's Mansion. Tell him to send it out as usual."
"Your servant obeys."The sky was overcast with rain, the night pitch black. A black eagle soared from the Xuan King's Mansion, swiftly heading northwest.
Yan Xun received Nalan's letter on the eve of his departure. Feng Zhi stood nearby and watched as Yan Xun frowned over the letter for a long while before suddenly chuckling. "Who knows which young lady's boudoir lament he copied? He actually sent this to me in a muddled state?"
Feng Zhi took the letter and read it, then laughed. "Your Highness, the Xuan King's handwriting is messy—it looks like he was drunk."
Yan Xun shook his head with a smile. He still held deep affection for this sworn younger brother. Ten years of friendship was no ordinary bond. He said cheerfully, "His spirits are quite high."
Then, a sudden childish whim struck him: if he wrote back, would this fellow fly into a rage? He picked up his brush and boldly wrote on the letter: "After ten years of friendship, I never knew of such feelings. Your elder brother has been foolish. On the day Daxia withdraws its troops, I shall personally go to Song to propose marriage. Dare you accept?"
Feng Zhi burst out laughing. "Your Highness, the Xuan King will be furious when he sees this."
"Just waiting to see him lose his mind."
Yan Xun carefully stored the letter, placing it neatly under a paperweight. He laughed heartily, in excellent spirits, and went out with Feng Zhi and A Jing.
Chu Qiao had fallen seriously ill the previous day and was still confined to her bed today. It wasn't that she lacked reproach or sorrow.
Reproach—for his coldness and indifference. Sorrow—for his deception and concealment. Yet, what could she do? As that servant had said, aside from her, he regarded no one else's life as precious. Though these words were cruel and unreasonable, there was still warmth in them—at least, aside from her.
He cared for her.
And hadn't she, in some matters, also kept things hidden? Such as her true origins, or her entanglement with Zhuge Yue during the trip to Biantang.
Zhuge Yue, Zhuge Yue—whenever these three characters crossed her mind, her heart ached faintly. It wasn't that she was numb and cold-blooded enough to have forgotten everything, nor was she foolish and ignorant enough not to see his feelings for her. Yet, what could she do? In this world, there were ultimately things beyond human power, things that could never be compensated or repaid. Just as Li Ce had said, if she couldn't respond, it was better to forget.
Eight years together—she was the only one in Yan Xun's heart. Yet, without him noticing, her own heart had once rippled for another. When it came down to it, who owed whom? Who had truly wronged whom? Perhaps she shouldn't be so narrow-minded and calculating.
She got out of bed, dressed, and took the freshly shelled chestnuts to Yan Xun's study. Lü Liu was taking an afternoon nap and hadn't heard her get up. The little maid had been exhausted from tending to her all night and was surely worn out.
Pushing open Yan Xun's door, she found it empty. She placed the chestnuts on his desk and noticed the clutter of official documents. The candle in the holder had burned down to the size of a fingernail—evidence that he had stayed up all night again. A pang of heartache stirred within her. Just as she was about to instruct the kitchen to prepare some dishes for him, her sleeve brushed against a letter on the desk.The envelope was exquisitely crafted, imbued with a subtle fragrance. The letter had fallen from the table onto the floor, its flap mostly open to reveal white stationery inside. Two lines of handwriting abruptly caught Chu Qiao's eye, making her pause momentarily. Without thinking, she crouched down and pulled out the letter.
Upon suddenly reading the phrase "The mountains have trees and the trees have branches, I adore you but you do not know," her heart instantly ached. It wasn't her handwriting, nor was she ever skilled at composing poetry. Her fingers gradually turned cold as she hurriedly checked the envelope's sender - Huai Song's Xuan King's Mansion. Suddenly, certain things connected in her mind, gradually becoming clear. She took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, hoping to expel those feelings of resentment, only to find her heart growing heavier.
Reading further, she encountered Yan Xun's handwritten reply. A dull roar echoed in her mind, nearly causing her to lose balance. Her brows furrowed tightly like delicate threads. Thousands of thoughts emerged, only to be refuted by thousands of reasons, yet ultimately they couldn't overcome the stark black ink on white paper before her.
Threads of coldness crept over her skin, as if countless icy tentacles were wrapping around her like layers of vines climbing from her heart, completely enveloping her frail body. Dusk seemed to fall without daylight, her heart gradually darkening, leaving only a vast white emptiness that bleakly illuminated her stagnant, lifeless eyes.
A thought gradually rose from the depths of her heart, forming into words: So this is what so-called lifelong companionship ultimately amounts to.
"No!" Chu Qiao suddenly stood up, her eyes revealing sharp determination. She refused to believe this - unless she heard it from his own lips! She, Chu Qiao, would never allow herself to be deceived so foolishly!
The illness that had lingered for days suddenly vanished. She ran back to her room in several strides, threw on her heavy fur cloak, and went out the door. Lü Liu followed in panic, crying out anxiously: "Miss! You haven't recovered yet! Where are you going?"
Ignoring her, Chu Qiao mounted her horse and galloped toward the First Army barracks.
However, upon reaching the military camp, she was denied entry. The soldiers of the First Army didn't recognize her and didn't believe her claims, resolutely blocking her at the gate. Just then, a call sounded in her ears. Chu Qiao turned to see a very familiar face - it was actually Yin Liangyu, deputy general of the Second Army.
The man clad in armor was overjoyed to see her. He rushed forward several steps and exclaimed loudly: "My lord, I've finally found you! I've been lingering outside His Highness's mansion for three days, but they wouldn't let me in. Now that you're here, everything will be alright!"
Chu Qiao was slightly taken aback and asked: "Do you need something from me?"
Yin Liangyu was also surprised, then countered: "My lord, don't you know?"
"Know what?"
Yin Liangyu's face immediately changed dramatically as he cried out: "My lord, something major has happened!"
————Division————
①Quoted from "Song of the Yue Boatman."
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