The carriage moved slowly along the official road, passing through bustling streets and lively crowds. After exiting the gates of Zhenhuang, it headed southeast at a leisurely pace. The clamor gradually faded away, leaving snow-clad green mountains and swaying withered grass under a gloomy gray sky. Occasionally, a lone wild goose flew overhead, letting out mournful cries as it quietly passed by.
Yong'er nestled in Yushu's arms, drowsy and half-asleep. The carriage was warm and cozy, with thick cotton curtains blocking out the cold from outside. Yushu held the child, gently patting his back while unconsciously humming childhood lullabies. Time seemed to crawl, yet the road ahead felt unusually long.
"Your Highness, there's a tea stall ahead. Would you like to stop and rest?"
Jiang Wu, leading the guards from the Xuan King's Mansion, rode alongside the carriage. Dressed in a modest gray sable coat, he rubbed his hands together as he leaned in to ask.
The curtain stirred slightly, letting in a gust of cold wind. Yushu frowned and looked up at the sky. "Let's keep going," she said. "It looks like snow is coming. We shouldn't risk getting stranded on the road."
"Understood," Jiang Wu replied, then added, "Hongchuan is such a cold place. Back in our Huai Song, the lotus flowers would still be in bloom at this time of year."
"Mother?"
Yong'er rubbed his eyes, his cheeks flushed red. The breeze had roused him slightly, and he wrinkled his small nose as he asked, "Are we there yet?"
Yushu glanced outside and nodded. "We'll be there soon."
In her entire life, Yushu had never traveled far. The first time she left home was when she journeyed from Huai Song to Zhenhuang—a trek of thousands of miles, following tens of thousands of Huai Song's royal nobles as they left their homeland for this cold, unfamiliar territory.
To put it nicely, it was Huai Song complying with the mandate of heaven, submitting to Great Yan and becoming a vassal state. Yet everyone knew that aside from the eldest princess, Nalan Hongye, the Nalan Clan of Huai Song only had the late emperor's few daughters and a dying young emperor left—their lineage was unsustainable. This so-called vassal state was merely a facade. Once the eldest princess passed away, Huai Song would inevitably be absorbed under the "Yan" name.
Still, perhaps this outcome was already the best possible. Among the three kingdoms, Huai Song had the smallest territory, not even one-tenth the size of Daxia. Though it was coastal and commercially prosperous, it lacked essential military resources like iron ore and warhorses, leaving its military strength the weakest of the three. It was only due to the balance of power between Biantang and Daxia that Huai Song managed to survive for a century in the cracks. Should either Biantang or Daxia's regime collapse, the victor would inevitably turn its blade toward Huai Song first.In that chaotic era, Huai Song's internal regime was unstable, Biantang's territory was split in two with its state institutions collapsing, Daxia was fragmented by endless civil wars, while Yanbei's iron cavalry marched beyond the passes and swept across the central plains. Huai Song lacked not only the capability to maintain the tripartite balance of power, but also the military strength to seize others' territories, and even a stable domestic government. Under such circumstances, there was virtually no alternative but to align with Yanbei. History has proven the princess-regent's strategy to be wise; although the state became a dependency, the people and officials of Great Song were largely spared the ravages of war, the royal family and court suffered no losses, and Song officials held prominent positions in the new dynasty, far from the fate of Daxia's remnants, who were relegated to the lowest rungs of the empire's social hierarchy.
Commoners cared little about who sat on the throne—as long as they had clothes to wear, food to eat, and land to farm, no one bothered whether their sovereign was surnamed Yan or Nalan. Yet, some still could not accept it. Yushu remembered the day they departed from Huai Song, when many scholars blocked the royal procession, and after being rebuked by soldiers, some even doused themselves in oil and set themselves ablaze, dying by self-immolation.
To this day, Yushu vividly recalls that scene: the roaring flames, the man screaming while crying out the name of Prince Xuan, others prostrating themselves and wailing, lamenting that if Prince Xuan were still alive, he would never have let the realm be surrendered by ignorant women and children.
In the blink of an eye, so many years have passed. Now, under Great Yan's governance, such voices have gradually faded, and the man once seen as Great Song's savior is mentioned less and less. Even on the anniversary of his death, only she and her orphaned child venture out early, traveling dozens of li beyond the city to pay their respects.
After half a day's journey, they finally reached Yanxi Mountain. The terrain was steep, and the carriage could go no further. Clad in a white fur cloak, Yushu alighted with Yong'er. Servants carried a sedan chair, and she boarded it, swaying as it ascended step by step up the stone staircase.
The thick snow slowed the servants' pace. Yong'er, now spirited, lifted the sedan curtain and peered out curiously, glancing outside repeatedly.
Midway up the mountain stood a temple, appearing dilapidated. Yushu had once rested here during a previous ascent. She knew it housed only a dozen or so elderly monks, and due to its remote location, few devotees visited, leaving it perpetually desolate. Snow piled up at the entrance, untouched by any sweeper.
Gazing out the window, she saw lush, verdant pines, and a faint sorrow stirred within her.
Another year had passed.
"Your Highness, we've arrived. The path ahead is too narrow for the sedan."
Yushu nodded, descended with Yong'er, and instructed the guards to wait there. Taking only Jiang Wu, who carried paper offerings and incense, she led Yong'er upward.
The higher they climbed, the stronger the mountain wind grew, stinging their faces. Shielding Yong'er behind her, she pressed on step by step. Suddenly, a swift gust swept by, and a dark figure darted like lightning from the nearby woods. Jiang Wu instantly drew his sword, positioning himself before Yushu, but before his blade fully left its scabbard, two swords were already pressed against his throat.
"Who goes there?"The other party shouted in a low voice, and Yushu’s face turned pale as she hurriedly covered Yong’er’s eyes. Unexpectedly, Yong’er was quite bold and pulled his mother’s hand away, declaring confidently, "I am the Crown Prince of Xuan King’s Mansion, and this is my mother. We have come to pay respects to my father. Who are you? Are you bandits? Aren’t you afraid of being executed?"
The child’s voice was as crisp as pearls falling on a jade plate, echoing through the forest amidst the howling wind. Yushu, terrified, pulled Yong’er back and held him tightly in her arms.
To her surprise, the bandits exchanged glances, then sheathed their swords. The leader stepped forward, bowing his head politely, and said, "So it is the Princess of Xuan and the Crown Prince. My apologies. Please wait here for a moment, Your Highness."
With that, he swiftly disappeared into the distance.
After a short while, the man returned and said, "Your Highness, please."
Yushu eyed them suspiciously, but Jiang Wu seemed to have understood something. Not daring to say more, he merely nodded at Yushu, signaling her not to be afraid.
The white marble floor was impeccably smooth, stretching into the distance like a vast, polished mirror. The sky seemed so close, as if one could reach out and touch the clouds. The wind blew from all directions, lifting the hems of their robes from below. Snow swirled everywhere, howling and spinning, creating a dense, milky fog as far as the eye could see.
Squinting, Yushu looked ahead and saw a figure standing in the wind and snow, clad in a black cloak with the hood raised, obscuring his face. The mountain wind whistled past, and the heavy snow swirled around him, isolating him from the rest of the world. He stood alone, like a towering ancient pine, so erect it seemed to hold up the heavens.
Even without seeing his face clearly, Yushu immediately knelt, pulling Yong’er down beside her. In her soft voice, she called out, "Your Majesty."
Yan Xun turned around, his icy gaze softening slightly upon seeing her. He gave a faint smile, though it seemed stiff—whether from the cold or because he had long forgotten how to smile. He nodded quietly and said, "You’ve come."
Yan Xun did not tell her to rise, and Yushu dared not move, her heart pounding nervously as she replied, "Yes."
"Rise. In front of Xuan Mo, don’t let him think I’m bullying his wife."
His words were casual, but they made Yushu’s legs go weak. She nodded hesitantly and stood up, leading Yong’er forward to stand ten steps behind Yan Xun. Before Xuan Mo’s spirit tablet, tall banners and candles burned brightly, incense smoke curled upward, and black funeral paper money danced wildly in the wind like a swarm of dark butterflies.
Yan Xun said nothing, merely stepping aside casually to make room in front of the tomb. Yushu, trembling with fear, approached with the child, lighting incense, raising banners, and burning paper offerings. The white paper was gradually consumed by the flames, turning into black ashes. Her pale cheeks flushed crimson in the firelight, and her stiff fingers slowly warmed but remained rigid as she carefully fed all the paper money into the roaring flames.
"Father, Yong’er has come to see you."Yong'er obediently knelt on the ground, kowtowed three times properly, then said with a serious expression: "My studies have been excellent this year. Teacher Lu has praised me three times already. I've learned many new characters and even learned to ride horses. Uncle Jiang gave me a little black foal with a white patch on its nose - it's really beautiful."
The child chattered on, his words carrying the unique innocence of childhood. His voice was soft, yet he deliberately maintained an adult-like seriousness, wrinkling his little eyebrows in a most adorable manner.
"Father, the weather has turned cold. You must remember to wear more clothes. Don't forget to wear the cotton clothes Mother and I burned for you. Since you're here alone, you need to learn to take care of yourself and not get sick. I'll take good care of Mother for you, so don't worry."
The mountain wind suddenly grew stronger. Yushu turned her head away, her eyes slightly moist.
"Mother? What's wrong?"
Yushu forced a smile and said: "It's nothing, just some dust in my eyes from the wind."
As she spoke, she suddenly noticed the wind had diminished considerably. Puzzled, Yushu looked up and saw a tall figure standing upwind, perfectly shielding them from the wind. Before them was a steep cliff, where this person stood facing the wind, his clothes fluttering in the breeze. Pure white snowflakes swirled around him, and though he stood so close, he seemed as distant as if separated by a thousand miles, forever beyond anyone's reach.
"Mother? Mother? What's wrong?"
Seeing her dazed expression, Yong'er called out anxiously. Realizing she had lost her composure, Yushu quickly turned back and said: "It's nothing, Yong'er. Quickly kowtow to your father."
The child widened his eyes: "I already did."
Yushu nodded, threw in the last string of paper money, bowed three times herself, then stood up.
"Finished?"
A deep voice came from ahead. Yushu lowered her eyes and quickly nodded. Yan Xun said: "Then let's go together."
How could Yushu dare to object? She simply nodded obediently in agreement.
Yan Xun walked over, took Yong'er's hand, and asked with a smile: "You've learned to ride horses?"
More than ten guards rushed forward - some clearing away the sacrificial vessels behind them, others forming protective lines on both sides.
Having frequently visited the palace and being accustomed to Yan Xun's usual kindness toward him, Yong'er wasn't intimidated. Holding the hand of the most powerful man in the world, he looked up with a bright smile and said: "Yes, Uncle Jiang taught me. But I'm still too young to ride big horses - I can only ride little foals."
Yan Xun smiled and said: "Your father couldn't ride horses when he was your age. You're better than him."
"Ah? Really?"
Yong'er stared blankly, his eyes wide with surprise: "Father was that clumsy?"
Yan Xun laughed heartily at this: "Your father was good at everything else - proficient in poetry, well-read in classics - but he just couldn't ride horses. He actually learned horsemanship from me."
"Wow, so Your Majesty was my father's teacher? Can you teach me too? I want to ride big horses now, not little foals. The little foal Uncle Jiang gave me is too lazy - it doesn't even know how to run, it only walks slowly."
"You're still too young for me to teach you riding, but I could teach you something else."
"What else can Your Majesty do? Can you fight crickets?"
Yan Xun smiled calmly: "I know many things."
"Your Majesty must be boasting. My Red-headed General has defeated every opponent in the palace - even Second Prince's Mighty Green-headed King lost a leg to him."On the narrow stone steps, two figures—one tall, one short—walked at the forefront, chatting happily as they went, their rapport undisturbed by the wind and snow swirling around them.
Yushu followed behind, gazing absently at their backs, lost in a daze. If the prince were still here, she thought vaguely, perhaps it would be like this. Maybe he would take Yong'er out for a spring outing in his leisure time, share amusing childhood anecdotes about other friends, and then boast shamelessly about how clever and heroic he was in his youth. Yes, perhaps it would be just like this.
Suddenly, she felt a pang of sorrow. Though she was a simple woman, devoted to caring for her husband and raising her children, she wasn’t entirely ignorant of the world beyond her home.
Over the years, especially in the last two, imperial princes had been born one after another in the palace, yet she had never heard of the Emperor showing particular favor to any of his sons. Deep down, Yushu understood: Great Yan was newly established, with political powers still unstable. There were still minor conflicts in the north, and even before the Empress married into Yan, there had been a promise that the Emperor of Great Yan must be a son born of the Empress. So, even though the Empress had no children yet, the Emperor couldn’t become too close to his other sons, lest it raise suspicions in the court. After all, the old ministers of Huai Song still held considerable influence in the government.
The Emperor speaking with such a gentle expression—probably not even his own sons had ever seen him like this.
To have his own son right before him yet be unable to draw close—the Emperor’s heart must ache as well.
Yushu sighed foolishly. A flock of birds flew over the forest, their wings rustling noisily. She lifted her head, and the wind blew against her face, cold and icy.
A burst of laughter came from ahead, so joyful and light.
Far away in the depths of the palace, Nalan tossed a piece of white silk into the fire, watching as the flames slowly consumed it, turning it to black ash. Faintly, it seemed she could hear the wind blowing from the southeast, carrying unfamiliar sounds that lingered in her ears.
The deep palace was cold and silent. Dressed in lavish palace attire, layer upon layer of embroidered silk enveloped her entirely, encasing even her joys and sorrows into stiff symbols within the resplendent silks and satins. Her back was straight, her face adorned with exquisite makeup. All the maids and eunuchs stood at a distance, none daring to look up at her. She remained that noble woman—the de facto queen of Huai Song, the legitimate Empress of Great Yan, the last princess of the Nalan Clan. Yet, her shoulders seemed slightly weary.
Sunlight fell upon her, and in the beams, tiny dust motes danced up and down.
Everything was changing, yet her shadow remained the same—solitary through the years, stretched long and lonely by the passage of time.
"Another year has passed."
Silently, she smiled, but the smile was like mist, gently dissipating in the cold snow of late autumn.
————Break————
There are about three more chapters left in the "Yan Hong" volume. The next continuation volume will be "Defending Ximeng."
As for the side stories of Li Ce and Zhao Chun'er, they will be posted as individual chapters in the side story volume after the continuation volume concludes. Zhao Che’s side story will also be included in the "Defending Ximeng" continuation volume.
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