It had snowed all night, enveloping the entire Zhenhuang City in a vast expanse of white. Pushing open the door in the early morning, the snow was over a foot deep, reaching up to the knees. The flat ground was blanketed in drifting snow, swept by a biting wind that made it hard to keep one's eyes open. The city guards, yawning, opened the heavy gates before the sun had risen. In the dim light, a faint shadow seemed to loom, but before they could squint for a clearer look, the crowd waiting at the city gates surged forward.
A simple blue-canopied carriage, with ebony door frames, rolled along with the creaking of its wheels, churning up the pristine snow on the ground and leaving deep ruts in the long street. The carriage appeared unadorned and uncomplaining as it followed the queue of commoners waiting to enter. The city guards naturally assumed it carried no nobility from Zhenhuang and, just as naturally, accepted a generous toll fee, barking orders and flaunting their authority with a few blustering shouts.
After waiting for over two hours, the carriage finally exited Zhenhuang City. The sun rose lazily, casting a pale glow through the morning mist. The migratory birds had long since flown south, leaving only the hardy eagles behind. Their piercing cries echoed across the sky as they soared past the horizon, their wings stark white against the backdrop. Occasionally, they vanished into the clouds, their clear, sharp calls reverberating across the snowy plains.
As the carriage reached Xima Ridge outside the city, a young woman stood quietly on Yangguan Bridge. She was dressed in a pure white fur coat and dark blue riding boots, her features as delicate as a painting. Having stood too long in the cold wind, her cheeks were flushed red, softening her usual sharpness and sternness with a rare touch of gentleness. Spotting the carriage, she stepped forward with a smile, her horse obediently trailing behind, its hooves crunching softly in the snow.
The carriage driver was also a young man, no older than sixteen or seventeen. Seeing her, he seemed startled and turned to speak to someone inside the carriage. A slender hand reached out, lifting the curtain slightly to reveal a man's handsome eyes and tightly furrowed brows.
"What are you doing here?"
Zhao Song's voice no longer held the clarity and brightness of his youth; it had grown deeper and more subdued over the years, like a stagnant pond, undisturbed by even the slightest ripple.
But that was of little consequence. After all, when she first met him, he had already been like this—calm, gentle, and indifferent to everything. Gradually, he had withdrawn from the political stage of Daxia, transforming from a dazzling imperial prince into the pitiable, lonely figure he was today, exiled without a single soul to bid him farewell.
Perhaps, aside from her, no one in the entire imperial city would remember him anymore.
Xiao Ba smiled quietly, a habitual trace of mockery lingering at the corners of her lips. She stepped forward and naturally handed the reins to the young man on the carriage, saying, "A Jiang, go hitch the horse."
Zhao Song frowned slightly, his voice low and stern. "What are you doing?"
Xiao Ba raised her eyebrows at him, her gaze clear and unflinching, and replied matter-of-factly, "I'm naturally going with you."
Zhao Song's frown deepened, his expression darkening with a rare hint of impatience. "Wuxin, don't be foolish."
Xiao Ba was now called Wuxin—"No Heart." No heart, indeed, meant having no heart at all.Throughout her life, she had borne countless different names. She could no longer recall her childhood days in the Jing family. The only relatives she remembered were Zhi Xiang and Lin Xi. Being young and not the child of the Jing family's legitimate wife, even her young siblings had forgotten her name. After narrowly escaping death, she was ranked by age like the other children, referred to as Little Seven, Little Eight, or Little Nine—mere cold numbers, no different from livestock, not even comparable to a purebred warhorse.
Later, she was saved by Zhuge Yue and lived with him under the tutelage of Mr. Wolong for nearly seven years. During those years, she had another name, one given by Zhuge Yue to conceal her identity from those around them, all to protect the sister residing in the Holy Gold Palace.
When she heard the news of Zhuge Yue's death, she actually wept—an act she could never forgive herself for over all these years.
She actually wept for a man who had caused the deaths of her siblings and imprisoned her for over a decade.
She still vividly remembered that morning when the tragic news reached the Zhuge residence. Moon Thirteen, covered in dust, rushed through the gates of Green Mountain Courtyard, followed closely by servants from the main estate. Before they could react, the entire Green Mountain Courtyard was searched. Then came the bailiffs from the Shanglü Court, the constables from the Dasifu yamen, and the supervisory officials from the Elder Council. Various charges were successively leveled against that once brilliant and proud man: dereliction of duty, collusion with the enemy, delaying military intelligence, undermining military discipline, causing major military failures, and even treason.
The once supremely prestigious Green Mountain Courtyard, which had stood above the entire Zhuge Clan, instantly fell into ruin, cast into an abyss. The Moon Guards rushed about, pleading with Zhuge Yue's former allies, friends, and siblings to clear his name, to send troops to Yanbei, to continue searching for their young master—even if only for his corpse. Yet, faced with the defeat in war and the nationwide condemnation and opposition, no one was willing to extend a helping hand except for the Seventh Prince Zhao Che, who had also lost power due to the same campaign. Even Wei Shu Ye, the young master of the Wei Clan, hung up a "no visitors" sign, refusing to see these former subordinates loyal to Zhuge Yue.
Eventually, even Zhao Che was exiled to the northern border. Zhuge Yue's corpse was returned by Yanbei, and although a hefty ransom was paid, the Zhuge Clan expelled him from the family. Zhuge Mu Qing personally carried out the Elder Council's judgment at the city gates, whipping his son's corpse to demonstrate his resolve to sever ties. After death, Zhuge Yue could not even enter the ancestral temple; his body was discarded in a mass grave, scorned by countless people, and his name was erased from military records. As for the former female slaves of Green Mountain Courtyard, they were driven out of the estate, sold and resold multiple times, and ultimately fell into prostitution.Even after so much time had passed, she could still recall those early days of forced smiles every night. Because of her stubborn refusal, the brothel owner sent two strong men to deflower her. In that dilapidated woodshed, they sneered as they tore at her trousers. They were so close she could see their yellowed teeth and smell the liquor on their breath. Their strength was immense, their palms covered in dark calluses. The moment they entered the room, they impatiently loosened their trousers, letting them hang at their ankles, exposing their repulsive flesh.
All struggle and cries for help were futile. Though she had once learned horseback riding and martial arts from Zhuge Yue, those hastily acquired skills—learned in resentment—were useless under the influence of the drug. She could only stare blankly as they shredded her clothes, watching their faces draw nearer. Next door was Lan'er from Green Mountain Courtyard, and beyond her was Zhixiao, the daughter of Zhuge Yue's wet nurse. All around her echoed screams and cruel laughter. She thought she had grown numb and resilient through so many hardships, believed she had mustered enough courage and dignity not to beg these shameless scum. But the moment her body was violated, as pain seared through her and tears of shame welled in her eyes, she broke like all the other servants of Green Mountain Courtyard, sobbing and crying out that man's name.
She wept and screamed, "Zhuge Yue, save me!" She cursed the two men wildly, shouting that the young master would avenge her, that they would all die horribly.
Yet they only laughed dismissively, cruelly informing her that Zhuge Yue had long been dead, perished in Yanbei, his corpse now devoured by hunting dogs.
In that moment, she truly despaired and wept. Suddenly, memories flooded back: him teaching her to read, to ride horses, to analyze military strategies, to practice self-defense. Sometimes he would simply have her sit beside him, doing nothing. No matter how she sneered or mocked him, he paid no mind, quietly drinking, occasionally shooting her an impatient glare.
He had killed Lin Xi, caused Xiao Qi's death, imprisoned her for ten years, struck and berated her. They shared an irreconcilable enmity. Yet he had never humiliated her like this. Time and again, he had rescued her from the brink of death, given her a place to belong. Though her status was awkward, though she knew all this should have belonged to another, he had indeed protected her. In her most vulnerable years, during those treacherous times, when she was still a child with nothing, he had shielded her—for so many, many years.
In the face of the most humiliating moment of her life, she instinctively called his name, hopelessly wishing he would come to save her.
But he could no longer. He was dead, having died for her sister, perishing in the frozen wastes of Yanbei, trampled beneath the iron hooves of the Yanbei army.
That night, she wept in utter despair, like a young beast that had lost its mother wolf, crouched on the filthy ground, her voice broken like a bellows, chilling to the bone.However, it was only that one night. After that night—unlike the resolute suicide of Zhixiao, unlike the melancholy demise of Lan'er—she seemed to have suddenly gained insight. She began studying music, chess, calligraphy, and painting; learning how to seduce men; mastering all the knowledge and skills required in this place. Since she could no longer rely on others, she had to depend on herself. Since she was destined to live here for the rest of her life, she would find a way to make her life better. And if she was going to do it, she would become the most sought-after courtesan.
Thus, two months later, she personally schemed to frame the two laborers who had once violated her. She watched them die before her eyes, feeling an indescribable thrill and madness in her heart.
She thought her life would continue like this forever, like a stagnant pool of foul water, growing ever more filthy and putrid. But then she met him.
The day she encountered Zhao Song, she was accompanying a wealthy merchant on a lake excursion. The obese, fifty-something man was a natural exhibitionist. On the flower boat, in full view of everyone, he tore open her clothes. In her panic, she accidentally scratched his face. Enraged, he threw her into the lake on the spot.
In Zhenhuang, May was still cold. The lake had just thawed, and the water was freezing. Wearing heavy clothing, her hands and feet numb with cold, and unable to swim, she flailed about for a few moments before allowing herself to sink slowly. The sunlight gradually faded from her sight, and the world turned dim and desolate. She could no longer see the sky or the clouds. Icy water rushed in from all directions, and her breathing grew slower and slower. At the brink of death, she suddenly wondered if this was how Zhuge Yue had felt when he died—everything around her so cold, with only a faint warmth in her heart, but now even that warmth was fading away.
Yet, just as she was about to die, someone wrapped their arms around her waist. She was pulled upward, upward, until after what felt like an eternity, she broke through the surface. The sun shone brightly upon her, and she coughed violently, overwhelmed with the joy of being brought back to life, wanting to cry. Zhao Song stood beside her, speaking to his drenched young page. When he noticed her gaze, he turned to her, his eyes calm yet slightly surprised. He frowned slightly, then smiled in astonishment and said, "What a coincidence. You look very much like an old acquaintance of mine."
Though he spoke with a smile, she could clearly sense the loneliness and sorrow in his tone. Like a wild goose unable to migrate south in winter due to illness, his eyes were tranquil yet seemed overgrown with vast stretches of desolate weeds, chilling and heartbreaking.
Just like that, he took her away. Though he was a fallen prince, he was still a member of the imperial family. She was given a clean identity and the freedom she had yearned for over a decade. Yet, in the end, she willingly entered the household registry as a servant of the prince's estate. When he found out, he did not stop her but merely glanced at her calmly and respected her choice.
In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed.She might not be able to articulate her feelings for Zhuge Yue—that twisted and shattered emotion, accumulated over years and worn down by the friction between hatred and attachment, was far too complex. She couldn’t understand it, nor did she want to. Yet she knew with absolute clarity her feelings for Zhao Song. It wasn’t about repaying kindness or gratitude; she simply wanted to be with him, hoping his eyes would see her and his heart would remember her. But even this small wish remained unfulfilled.
In her life, she had loved two men, yet both of them loved another woman—a woman who was her greatly indebted elder sister.
Fate truly was absurd.
That was why, over the long years, she harbored such complicated emotions toward that shadow in her memory—always strong, always brave, always wearing a resolute expression—so much so that when she saw her, she could barely control her reason.
But none of that mattered anymore. Everything was in the past. She was about to follow him, and all else had vanished like smoke.
What did it matter if their statuses were worlds apart? What did it matter if she was like a withered flower? What did it matter if his heart belonged to another? She was determined to follow him. Anyone or anything could stand in her way, but nothing could extinguish her resolve to strive for it.
She lifted her head. For the first time in four years, she stood before him in women’s attire, facing this noble yet fallen prince with carefully applied makeup. Her eyes were bright, her features delicate and beautiful. She grinned, radiant in the sunlight, and said, "I’m not making a scene. I just want to follow you."
Zhao Song coldly refused, "Why are you following me? Go back."
Xiao Ba didn’t even glance at him. She shoved a knife into his hand and said, "Just kill me with this."
Zhao Song frowned and said to the page, "A Jiang, drive her off the carriage."
"Fine by me," Xiao Ba replied bluntly, turning her head and waving the travel pass in her hand. Her voice was clear and bright, "I already have a full set of clearance documents. I have legal travel permits. I’m no longer a restricted slave. I have money, horses, and supplies. You can drive me away, but you can’t stop me from following you. I’ll follow you all the way to Qianghu. If you don’t want me, I’ll settle somewhere nearby. Even though you’re a prince of Daxia, you can’t stop a law-abiding commoner from traveling, can you?"
She looked at him calmly, her expression relaxed, without a trace of awkwardness or unease, nor any panic or confusion. She just tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her eyes clear and sharp, her small chin slightly raised with a mix of stubbornness and defiance, like a sulking child or a willful gambler.
Zhao Song suddenly felt a pang of sorrow. Looking at her, it seemed that for the first time in all these years, the shadow of that other person faded, and he truly saw this equally stubborn and resolute girl. His voice was low, like the autumn wind sweeping through withered leaves, carrying a faint desolation and chill, as he said quietly, "Do you even realize that once we leave, I will no longer be the prince of Daxia I once was?"Xiao Ba's heart felt as if suddenly slashed by a knife, aching faintly. Looking at Zhao Song's desolate face, a fire seemed to blaze fiercely in her chest. Yet she showed none of it, instead letting out a careless snort and saying indifferently, "What does it matter to me who you are? If you don't want me to follow, fine. I'll leave right now—I can always trail behind on my own."
With that, she turned to leap off the carriage.
Just then, a slender hand suddenly grasped her delicate, fair wrist. The fingers were distinct, long, and strong, slightly pale, with calluses covering the palm. Though it was the left hand, it was remarkably nimble.
"Forget it."
A low voice spoke calmly. Zhao Song waved his hand helplessly. "A Jiang, let's go."
A Jiang was momentarily stunned, gaping for a long moment. Xiao Ba stepped forward and rapped him on the forehead, chiding lightly, "Aren't you going? Waiting for your master to change his mind and chase me away?"
A Jiang immediately grinned foolishly, raised his whip, and struck the horse. The carriage began to move slowly. The morning sun shone golden, like a massive disc hanging high in the sky.
Leaving Zhenhuang City, departing the land of Daxia—from this moment on, he was no longer the crown prince of Daxia, and she was no longer the once-celebrated courtesan of the capital. Dust returned to dust, earth to earth. Thank heaven, in the moment before the storm broke, it granted them a chance and a life to start anew.
Amid a dense forest of poplar trees, a woman in a dark blue cloak rode out on horseback. He Xiao stood not far behind her. Several merchant escort teams passed by, stirring up clouds of dust on the post road, but she seemed not to notice, still quietly watching the distant carriage, silent for a long time.
Farewell, her friend. Farewell, her sister. Farewell, the two people she had wronged the most in this life.
The sun gradually rose, and the northern wind still raged fiercely. Chu Qiao withdrew her gaze from the distance and silently lifted her head.
This was Daxia—the scent of Daxia, the wind of Daxia, the memories and old acquaintances of Daxia. Those who had left were gone, but those who remained had to face the life ahead. Whether in hardship or adversity, whether through obstacles or turmoil, each of them had responsibilities to bear and people to wait for and protect.
She turned around, facing the imposing, thick city walls in the distance. There stood countless pavilions, waterside terraces, golden palaces, and halls—endless power and ambition, as well as countless schemes and traps.
There was a time when she loathed everything here, but now she willingly stepped into this enormous cage. Just as her sister had chosen to become a slave, this was the path they had chosen for themselves. That was her battlefield, yet she was not alone, for at the heart of that cage, someone was waiting for her.
Even if the world turned upside down, life and death would never part.
"Hyah!"
Chu Qiao shouted coldly, urging her horse into a gallop. The biting wind whistled past her ears, fading into the mist of the past, vanishing without a trace.
————Divider————
I've been traveling out of town with friends these past few days and haven't been able to update. My sincerest apologies.I broke my face while skiing today—guess it's heaven's punishment for me. So embarrassing, so embarrassing. I'll be heading home the day after tomorrow, please forgive me, everyone.
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