The afternoon sunlight streamed through the wide-open doorway, dazzlingly bright, making everyone’s vision blur. The surroundings were in chaos—some gasped in shock, some screamed, others rushed out in panic to summon the imperial physician. Guards surged forward, their gleaming blades flashing with silver light, casting stark white reflections on the ground.
She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes seemingly unable to bear such brilliant light, feeling hot and itchy. The sun felt as if it were made of solid ice, its rays piercingly cold against her skin, as though she had been plunged into icy water. A chill crept from her fingertips, thread by thread, spreading to her limbs, waist, and gradually enveloping her chest. Her heart pounded violently, thumping as if it might leap out of her chest. Her throat felt both sour and tight, making it hard to breathe.
The Empress Dowager’s robes were already stained crimson with blood, her pale face marked by two streaks of morbid madness. Her eyes were bright yet ferocious; even after being restrained, she did not struggle, only coldly spat out words filled with hatred: "You are all beasts, all deserve to die. I killed him, and now I will kill you. I will avenge my husband and my son."
At that moment, Chu Qiao saw his eyes.
For the first time in her life, she felt she had glimpsed his heart through his eyes—not the usual frivolity, not the usual depth, not the usual inscrutable calm. In that instant, she clearly saw through those deep pools the emotions swirling within—the suppressed, turbulent undercurrents, the desolate vastness akin to the snow-covered plains beyond the frontier.
He lay there, blood from his wound flowing like a gushing spring, staining his pale blue robes crimson. He gazed quietly at his mother, his eyes devoid of shock or hatred, only an overwhelming weariness that washed over his handsome features, drowning them completely.
Outside the window, the wind howled, rustling the thin paper panes. Blood snaked across the floor as a dense crowd rushed forward to stanch his wound and tend to him. Beyond the hall, the panicked voices of palace servants rose once more. Everything felt like a silent pantomime—Chu Qiao could see nothing, hear nothing, only stare blankly into his eyes. A cold sensation crawled inch by inch across her skin, seeping deep into her heart.
Suddenly, she recalled a hunt on the Yanbei plateau many years ago. The mountains were buried in snow, and a starving mother wolf, having finally caught an elk, was devouring it ravenously. Her cub, crouching nearby, crept over and took a bite of the elk’s flesh. Enraged, the mother wolf swiped at the cub, injuring it. The wounded cub retreated under a tree root, shrinking back and whimpering, too afraid to approach again. Its eyes were filled with sorrow, like a child who had been abandoned.
Someone tried to pull her away, but she stubbornly refused to move, her feet as if rooted to the ground, unwilling to take a single step.
A sudden, intense fear gripped her—her blood ran cold, her fingers trembling uncontrollably. She did not want to leave. The sight of the blood stung her eyes, and she feared that once she stepped out, she would never be able to return.
More and more people gathered around. Someone shouted something in her ear, and the delicate silk of her sleeve tore with a sharp rip under the forceful tug. Suddenly, she let out a loud cry, shoved everyone aside, and dashed toward the inner hall.
"Seize her!"Guards were shouting, and more palace servants came running toward her. She retreated nervously, every inch of her skin trembling with cold.
"Let her go—"
A low, hoarse voice suddenly rang out, like turbid wind blowing through a broken bellows. Li Ce half-propped himself up, his chest drenched in fresh blood, his fingers pale and blue as he pointed weakly toward her.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, you mustn't move!A series of exclamations followed as he slumped forward onto the bed, large mouthfuls of fresh blood spraying from his mouth like a dazzling brocade being torn apart. She felt as if she had fallen into an icy abyss, a deep chill crawling up her spine. The door was tightly shut, sunlight blocked outside, and light filtered through the window paper into mottled shadows. Standing outside the crowd, she couldn't see his face, only a pale, bloodless hand hanging limply from the blankets.
The sun gradually rose to its zenith, then slowly set in the west. A cold crescent moon climbed the treetops, casting a pale glow outside Yixin Hall. The sand in the hourglass trickled away grain by grain, as if life were slowly being drained from that body.
A choked sob suddenly escaped from an elderly physician with graying hair. Behind the ethereal curtains, a woman's figure, like a wisp of smoke, collapsed abruptly. Through the thick drapes, her eyes were blurred, only vaguely making out the flickering red candle.
When she awoke, everything was deathly silent. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming, but upon seeing Mei Xiang's delighted face, her heart ached sharply. Without even putting on shoes, she threw off the covers and jumped out of bed.
"Where is Miss Chu?"
A man's urgent voice sounded from outside. She ran out with disheveled hair and bare feet, her face as pale as a ghost.
Sun Di looked at her, his expression suddenly turning sorrowful. He bowed his head quietly and said softly, "His Majesty wants to see you."
Yixin Hall had grown still and silent for a long time. She walked in, passing through layers of curtains until she reached his dragon bed, faintly feeling as if he were merging with the empty hall.
She knelt beside the bed, her fingers icy cold as she slowly reached out. Her fingertips touched his arm but withdrew slightly, feeling that his body was even colder than hers, like the perpetual snow and ancient glaciers of the Yanbei plateau.
Her breath was so light, her voice like butterfly wings that might flutter away at any moment, whispering quietly in the hall:
"Li Ce, I've come to see you."
His eyelashes fluttered slightly, then he opened his eyes, his gaze gathering softly as he looked at her calmly, as if containing so much unspoken meaning. With difficulty, he reached out his hand, beckoning her, and smiled faintly, saying softly, "Qiaoqiao..."
Tears welled up in Chu Qiao's eyes as she slowly grasped his hand. In just a few days, he had grown so thin, his fingers bony and gaunt. A sharp ache choked her throat, rendering her speechless as tears streamed down her face.
His brow furrowed slightly as he reached out to gently wipe her cold cheek, smiling and saying, "Don't cry—"
"It's all my fault."
Tears fell in streams as her fingertips carried a cold desolation: "I promised I would always stay with you. I shouldn't have left."Li Ce suddenly smiled. Lying flat on the bed, he gazed at the intricate patterns on the canopy, embroidered with golden small seal scripts of "Eternal Life," densely crawling all over the dragon bed. His voice was calm and steady, without a trace of resentment, as he quietly said, "How can I blame you? That was my mother, who..."
He suddenly began to gasp violently, his voice fragile and weak. Chu Qiao, startled, was about to call for the imperial physician when he firmly grasped her wrist. The strength in his grip was so immense it was almost unimaginable for someone so severely injured.
"Who... who could have thought of it?"
Yes, who could have thought of it?
The night wind swept through the eaves, passing through the hollowed ears of the guardian beasts at the corners, emitting a mournful howl. From far away, the muffled sobs of the palace women drifted over, faint and delicate.
"I originally wanted to personally see you off to your wedding, but now... I'm afraid I can't."
"You will." Chu Qiao suddenly insisted, her voice so loud it echoed in the empty hall, like leaves fluttering in circles. She gripped his hand tightly, as if struggling against some unseen force. "You'll be fine!"
Li Ce looked at her and suddenly gave a weak smile. That smile pierced Chu Qiao's heart like an awl. She was so panicked that tears streamed down her cheeks and into her mouth, bitter and unbearable.
"Li Ce, don't go, please don't go?"
She gently shook his arm like a lonely child. "If you're gone, what will I do? If something happens to me, who will help me? If I have nowhere to live, who will let me freeload?"
A strange flicker of amusement passed through Li Ce's eyes. He pretended to be angry and muttered, "So... I... am just a sucker."
How many years had passed? The bygone days flowed like a clear spring, trickling through the cold, lonely air. She looked at him helplessly, her heart aching as if carved by a knife. His voice, calm as lake water, quietly said, "I've already sent someone to inform Zhuge Si. Someone... will take you to see him. You... should go with him properly."
Chu Qiao bit her lower lip as he continued haltingly, "In the future, don't be so stubborn, don't act like a child anymore."
The night was as cold as the water of Taiqing Pond. His brows were tightly furrowed, like flames disturbed by the wind, and his eyes held an unfathomable gleam, fixed intently on her. Suddenly, he said, "Qiaoqiao, help me up."
Chu Qiao was startled and quickly shook her head, but before she could speak, she saw the stubborn determination in his eyes.
Her heart ached as she carefully helped him up and seated him in the rattan chair by the window. He put on his outer robe, a vibrant red embroidered with dragon patterns in horizontal warps and vertical wefts, flamboyant yet tinged with a desolate melancholy, much like their first meeting.
"Qiaoqiao, my hair is messy."
Chu Qiao hummed in acknowledgment, picked up the white jade comb, and loosened his hair. The comb's teeth glided gently through his locks, her pale fingers brushing past his temples, strand by strand, as if retracing the many years of their acquaintance. Her hands gradually trembled, but he seemed unaware, never turning to look.
After combing his hair, he turned his face to her and asked with a smile, "Do I look spirited?"His gaze was deep and silent. Moonlight filtered through the gauze-curtained window, scattering fragmented rays across his face with a dim, hazy glow. He remained as handsome as ever—slender eyes, a tall nose, jade-like cheeks, faintly exuding the dignified aura of a royal heir. Yet a shadow of death lingered between his brows, gradually spreading, his face pale like dust-covered white jade.
Chu Qiao forced a smile and nodded. "Handsome as ever."
Li Ce frowned and asked, "Are you complimenting me?"
Only when Chu Qiao nodded did he break into a joyful smile, just like in the old days.
"Li Ce," Chu Qiao suppressed the sorrow in her heart and asked softly, "Do you have any last wishes?"
"Last wishes?"
Li Ce frowned thoughtfully, then after a long while, he chuckled lightly. "No."
His breathing suddenly grew hurried. He reached out to her from a distance and whispered, "Qiaoqiao, let me hold you."
The wind outside the window suddenly picked up, blowing the slightly ajar window wide open. The moonlight spilled across the empty hall, casting a pale, snowy brightness in all directions. The wind blew from the distant Taiqing Pond, carrying the fragrance of lotus. Chu Qiao’s throat tightened as if bitten, a sharp, agonizing pain. She knelt on the ground, half-leaning into his embrace, tears silently streaming down, soaking his robes.
The breath above her head gradually faded, like a gentle breeze carrying away delicate cherry blossoms, until there was not a sound left. The moonlight slanted across them, and in that hazy moment, it seemed as if they had returned to the wild, reckless days of their youth—a charming man in red robes with dark hair, descending from above, whispering playfully into her ear, "Aren’t you going to stop?"
Time was like a grand dream; once the splendor faded, all that remained was a heavy, overwhelming pallor.
Chu Qiao’s eyes were like cold, extinguished embers, utterly lifeless. Her gaze hollow, she slowly rose to her feet. Turning to look back, he remained seated quietly, his head tilted as if lost in a pleasant dream.
Fragments of memory scattered and crumbled. The man once adorned with opulence and grandeur had shed layer after layer of his disguise. The vibrant willows and lavish luxuries of the past had ultimately dissolved into the murkiness and solitude of the present, finally merging with the twilight’s afterglow into this funeral night.
Abruptly, she pushed open the palace doors. The cold, stark moonlight poured over her unobstructed. In the distance, darkness loomed, and before the hall knelt rows upon rows of palace consorts and high-ranking officials.
Sun Di looked at her, his eyes trembling with inquiry.
She stared back at him, her soul seemingly lost, her body numb. In the end, she slowly, very slowly, gave a slight nod.
"The Emperor has passed away—"
A wave of immense grief surged through the heavens. Throughout the palace, sorrowful cries echoed everywhere, and the long, mournful toll of the funeral bell pierced the night’s mist.
Chu Qiao lifted her face. The strong wind whipped her thin robes. In the vast, empty sky, she seemed to see a clear face—a tall nose, thin lips, eyes slightly upturned at the corners, like a cunning, smiling fox...
A palace attendant hurried down the deep, winding corridor of the palace, approaching Sun Di to deliver a hushed report. They were too far away, and the wind tore their words into broken fragments, yet a few phrases still reached her ears.
"As the funeral bell tolled... she dashed her head against the corner of a table... blood covered the floor, and she was already gone... after all, she was the Empress Dowager..."The moonlight was cold as frost, her blood nearly frozen. A clear tear silently traced its path once more, soaking into the mist-shrouded depths of this palace that had long been stained with the blood of countless souls.
**
The scenic streets of Tang Capital remained as beautiful as ever. A cool breeze drifted across the lake, carrying the fresh fragrance of lotus blossoms. Willow trees lining the roads swayed in the wind, their slender branches dancing like the soft waists of court dancers.
Under the twilight glow of sunset, weary birds returned to the woods. The crimson river reflected red shadows, spreading across the land like bloodstains.
Biantang was in national mourning. Everyone wore plain, unadorned garments, even the lanterns were draped with white cloth. Walking through the streets, one could sense desolation and chill everywhere.
As the sky gradually darkened, a full moon rose from behind the treetops, hanging bright and clear in the distant sky.
Today was the White Moon Festival. One month had already passed since Li Ce's death.
Zhuge Yue had repeatedly sent subordinates to bring her away, yet she stubbornly remained. A single thought sustained her, preventing her from leaving freely. In midnight dreams, cold sweat drenched her temples. With Li Ce gone, all music and dance had vanished from Jinwu Palace. The vast palace had fallen into prolonged silence. Walking through the endless palace corridors, she could even hear her own heartbeat, constantly reminding her that someone was gone, yet someone else remained alive. There were still things she had not accomplished.
This was the same path she and Li Ce had once walked together. That night, she had awoken from unconsciousness. Like an overgrown child, he had taken her hand and run wildly through the palace, passing through nine layers of palace halls, through splendid flower gardens, through artificial hills and rock forests, until they emerged from the palace gates. They shared a single horse, with him sitting in front of her, laughing heartily as he pointed the way, occasionally turning back to mock the frantic guards.
In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. The familiar had become strange, all that once was had vanished without a trace.
The current streets were no longer what they had been, now bleak and desolate. The few remaining shops stood empty and neglected. During the national mourning, all festivals had been canceled. Common folk no longer ventured out, and with no customers, street vendors had disappeared. The once crowded streets now stood empty, withered leaves scattering everywhere, occasionally brushing against pristine white garments.
After walking for a long time, she arrived once more at the noodle stall they had visited before. Surprisingly, they were still there, though without any customers. The husband sat drowsily in his chair. Seeing her approach, he started, suddenly jumping up. After studying her carefully for a moment, he hurriedly wiped a stool clean and gestured for her to sit with enthusiastic but wordless sounds.
It was still the same proprietress. The passing years seemed to have left no mark on her face—she retained that fair, clean, and delicate appearance. Approaching Chu Qiao, her gaze unfocused, she smiled warmly and said, "It's been a long time since you last visited, miss."
Chu Qiao was slightly taken aback. "You remember me?"
"It was him who recognized you. He rushed over to tell me."
The woman giggled girlishly, pointing at her husband standing behind her. The man blushed, smiling shyly to reveal a row of white teeth.
"And the young master? It's been quite a while since we've seen him."
The woman suddenly asked this, her eyes curved like two crescent moons. A gust of wind swept down the long street, abruptly lifting the stall's banner. The man quickly stepped forward to shield his wife from the wind and dust, his movements completely natural.Chu Qiao was momentarily dazed when she heard the woman press further, "Miss? Miss?"
Snapping back to reality, Chu Qiao forced a faint smile and said, "He's gone on a long journey."
"Oh.The boss lady nodded. "When will he be back?"
Fallen leaves piled up, the autumn wind swept the ground, and Chu Qiao's heart grew colder by the minute. Her face turned increasingly pale, and a lump formed in her throat. After a moment's thought, she replied softly, "He's moved away. Perhaps he won't be coming back."Unable to see Chu Qiao's expression, the boss's wife was about to ask more when her husband tugged at her sleeve." The perceptive woman immediately understood and turned to leave. Soon after, steaming noodles were brought over, along with a plate of beef and half a dish of shrimp dumplings. From afar, the tangy scent of vinegar wafted through the air.
Picking up her chopsticks, she pulled a handkerchief from her waist and gently wiped them before starting to eat, one bite at a time.
The noodles were piping hot, drizzled with scallion oil and sprinkled with chopped scallions—fragrant and inviting. Chu Qiao ate slowly. It had been a long time since she'd had a proper meal, and her stomach churned with acid, as if she might vomit at any moment.
"The shrimp dumplings will get cold soon."
A clear, crisp voice suddenly sounded beside her. Chu Qiao turned to see a girl in her teens, whose features looked familiar. Glancing at the boss lady in the distance, she suddenly remembered the child and tentatively asked, "Qian'er?""
The child frowned seriously and asked, "Do you know me?"
Chu Qiao smiled but didn't answer. The child sat down on a nearby chair and said, "Have you eaten at our place before?"
"Yes," Chu Qiao nodded.
The child said, "Can you tell me a story?"
Chu Qiao couldn't help but smile warmly, reaching out to ruffle the child's hair. "You still love listening to stories so much."
"Then I'll tell you one."
"I've heard your stories before."
"It's a new one," the child said, counting on her fingers. "I just learned it... a long, long time ago, last month."
Reluctantly, Chu Qiao nodded. "Go ahead, then."
The child pulled two small clay dolls from her pocket. Unlike before, these were exquisitely crafted, with visible features, vibrant colors, and lifelike details—comparable to the work of skilled court embroiderers. Holding one doll solemnly, the child declared, "He is the great emperor."
The same opening line, but now the great emperor had transformed. He wore a tiny robe of bright yellow silk, with a Golden Crown and jet-black hair, his features handsome and strikingly realistic.
The child picked up the other doll and said, "This is a little girl."
A female clay doll in a plain white cotton dress was held in her hand. The child spoke earnestly, "Once, the great emperor visited another country and met this little girl. She knew martial arts and beat him up badly. The great emperor was furious and wanted to retaliate, but later, something happened, and he fell in love with her."
After years apart, the child's storytelling had clearly improved. She looked up at Chu Qiao with a smile and asked, "Do you want to know what happened?"Chu Qiao's hand holding the chopsticks turned ice-cold as she nodded blankly. The child said triumphantly, "Once they encountered bad people, and the little girl was very kind, saving the Great Emperor several times. The Great Emperor thought, 'This little girl is truly righteous, I want to marry her and give her a good life.'"
"Unfortunately, the little girl didn't like the Great Emperor; she liked someone else. Later, she left with that person."
The child pulled out another clay figurine, still the same one she had used for storytelling back then. It was worn and tattered, even the ragged cloth around its waist was gone, standing there completely naked, holding a small wooden stick, looking utterly foolish.
"But that man was no good—domineering, ugly, poor, and always bullying others. In short, he was a terrible person. Later, the little girl came to her senses and left him."
Then, the child took out another clay figurine, still the same little figure riding a broomstick from before.
"The little girl then fell for this person, but he was no good either. Arrogant, self-righteous, bullying others with his power, and very, very ugly. Let me tell you a secret—he might even have a penchant for same-sex relationships. He was very close to a prince from his own country. In any case, he might have been a madman."
The little girl let out a long sigh and said with deep emotion, "In the end, the little girl grew into a young woman and finally realized her mistakes. So she resolutely left that person and returned to the great emperor. The great emperor was handsome, rich, elegant, kind, devoted, and persistent. The young woman was filled with regret, crying and begging to marry the great emperor. She camped outside his home every day, insisting on becoming his wife. In the end, the great emperor took pity on her and reluctantly agreed."
Putting the other two clay figurines into her pocket, only two exquisitely crafted ones remained on the table. The child said with a smile, "Later, they got married and lived happily together, having a whole bunch of children. The boys were as handsome as the great emperor, and the girls were as beautiful as the great emperor. They were very happy until their hair turned white and their teeth fell out. Finally, the gods in heaven learned of their story and made them immortals, decreeing that they would be together for all eternity, never to part."
Layers of sorrow surged in her heart, like winding countercurrents, silently flowing. Her eyes ached with a stinging pain, and her voice didn't sound like her own as she asked, "Who told you this story?"
"It was a young master who often comes to my house to eat noodles. So, did you like it?"
Suddenly, a wind picked up. Chu Qiao covered her face with her sleeve and turned her head slightly. The child asked eagerly, "Did something get in your eyes?"
Chu Qiao remained silent. Thinking she really had something in her eyes, the child quickly said, "Wait here, I'll go get some cooking oil for you."
With that, the child turned and ran off.
By the time she returned, the seat was empty. On the table lay a bag of gold coins, so heavy.
The road was desolate—no pedestrians, no street performers, no vendors, no singing girls. The lake was utterly tranquil, without a single painted boat in sight. On the empty street, only she remained, drifting like a wisp of a soul.
Passing by a candy shop, she paused for a moment before stepping inside. She bought many snacks—all the ones Li Ce had once bought for her: honey squares, jujubes, osmanthus cakes, and chestnuts. She packed them into a bag and ate as she walked.
She chewed mechanically, repeatedly recalling the story the child had just told. Tears streamed down her face, flowing into her mouth and mixing with the candies as she swallowed. The taste was bitter, not sweet at all.
Memories fluttered like scattered fragments, swirling one by one in her mind."Then you really should thank me properly. A life-saving grace is no ordinary matter. Why don't you stay in Biantang and offer yourself in marriage?"
Once upon a time, he had stood before her, saying these words with a radiant smile.
When she was surrounded by Zhao Yang's forces, he had rushed over at the critical moment, covered in the dust of his journey, his armor hard and unyielding. With a furrowed brow, he had held her tightly in his arms, repeating over and over: "It's alright now, it's alright now."
At her most despairing moment, he had come late at night with a basket of pomegranates, gently comforting her: "Qiaoqiao, why not give yourself a break?"
On a cold night in the deep palace, he had arrived drunk and, in his confused state, embraced her passionately. In the end, he still managed to joke: "Fur's figure is much better than yours."
...
She had never known, as if it were a forbidden zone in her heart that she never touched. She didn't know whether she was truly unaware, or if she was just deceiving herself by not wanting to know?
The cold moon in the sky cast its silvery light upon the ground. The crabapple blossoms by the roadside remained as gorgeous as ever, crimson like the finest rouge. When the wind blew, they fluttered down, scattering over Chu Qiao's clothes and hair.
"Li the Fox, have you ever liked someone?"
In the sun-drenched courtyard of Mihe Residence, they sat side by side under the crabapple tree that had been moved from the street to the palace. Frowning as she watched Li Ce diligently sorting through the portraits of that year's imperial consort candidates, she asked curiously.
"Of course!"
Li Ce raised his eyebrows, speaking very seriously: "I quite liked Yuer from Ranli Palace last night. Her skin was like silk, especially her long legs, comparable to..."
"Shut up, shut up!" Chu Qiao interrupted him with a frown: "I mean that kind of liking, like, like..."
Li Ce looked at her sideways and said disdainfully: "You want to say like how that bastard Zhuge Si likes you, right?"
Chu Qiao's pretty face flushed red as she said petulantly: "Yes! Exactly! So what?"
"What can I do to you?"
Li Ce snorted and lowered his head to continue selecting portraits. After a long while, he suddenly made a "hmm" sound.
Chu Qiao was taken aback and asked: "What are you humming about?"
Li Ce said impatiently: "Weren't you asking me if I've ever liked someone like Zhuge Si does? I'm answering you."
"Ah? You've liked someone? How come I didn't know?"
Li Ce laughed heartily, boasting arrogantly: "How could this emperor's thoughts be easily seen through by you? If they were easily seen through, wouldn't this emperor lose face?"
Chu Qiao continued asking gossipily: "Then what was the person you liked like?"
"Not much to speak of." Li Ce said flippantly: "Her figure was average, her temper wasn't good either, and she liked to stubbornly cling to ideas. Most importantly, she had someone else in her heart and didn't fancy me."
"Ah?" Chu Qiao was slightly stunned and instinctively asked: "Then why didn't you tell her?"
Li Ce smiled very casually: "Liking someone should be kept in the heart. What's the point of saying it out loud? Moreover..."
His tone shifted, pausing slightly. The wind blew from the surface of Taiqing Lake, stirring a strand of hair at his temple. He raised his head, looking at the distant lake surface, his gaze momentarily distant.
"Moreover, I might never have the chance to tell her in this lifetime."At that moment, Chu Qiao quietly watched him, as if seeing something far, far away through his eyes. The first person she thought of then was Princess Fu, who had hanged herself on the phoenix tree—Murong Fu'er, who died for the sake of Prince Luo on Li Ce's wedding day.
She couldn't help but think with pity: Perhaps, if not for that incident, this fellow might have turned out to be a decent person.
Warm, moist tears streamed down her cheeks once more. The wind blew, so bitterly cold, so chillingly cold. Crimson begonia petals drifted down, scattering across the sky like a shower of floral rain. The mournful wind swept through the city, and under the vast heavens, it lifted a ground full of blood-red fallen blossoms, as if weeping crimson tears.
————Separator————
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