Yu Changxuan lay slumped over the command post desk, draped in a heavy cloak, his figure seeming to merge with the cold night. His eyes were closed, and his sharply defined face revealed a wistful expression. All around was utter silence, broken only by the icy wind rustling through the pearwood trees, their branches swaying and casting shadows. Fallen pear blossoms covered the ground like a thin layer of snow.
In his hazy dream, a little girl with twin round buns turned her head and smiled at him. Her fair, delicate face seemed to blend into the frosty moonlight, her smiling countenance resembling a petal of snow-white pear blossom—ethereal yet carrying a faint, chilly fragrance.
He had had too many such dreams, so even in the dream, he knew it was just a dream.
A single light bulb hung from the tent ceiling, swaying and creaking in the wind. Its dim glow enveloped his rigid body, as if illuminating a soulless shell.
He lay there quietly, furrowing his brow and murmuring drowsily, "So cold..."
Orioles on branches, tears heard,
New tear stains mingling with the old.
No word from the spring fish and wild geese,
Dreams weary over a thousand miles of mountain passes.
Dodder and tall trees, rock and cattail,
How can they compare to your ten thousand miles of rivers and mountains painting,
Unifying the country for eternity.
Half a month later, Beixin City fell, and the Xiao Clan Warlords were annihilated. Yu Changxuan led his troops swiftly northward. The already depleted Fusang army abandoned the city and retreated to Xinping Island. The Yu Army finally seized the vast, fertile lands north of the river.
A month later, Jiang Xueting took a special plane back to Yuzhou overnight and sent a telegram to the Jinling Government, resigning from his positions as Executive Yuan President and concurrently held Foreign Minister.
Epilogue
Your family's rivers and mountains, unified for eternity,
Beauty follows the waves, tears on jade mat cold.
One year later.
She woke feeling unusually warm.
It was as if she were a bird that had hibernated all winter, finally greeted by a sliver of reviving sunlight slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the balcony. Lying in bed, she gazed up at the peach-pink tassels hanging from one side of the bed canopy, swaying like sheer gauze before her eyes. She reached out to play with the tassels, slowly winding the silk threads around her fingertips. She was very thin now, her mind unclear and her memory gone. She had fallen gravely ill in the winter and never fully recovered. Though she had improved slightly, her mind had grown even more muddled.
Suddenly, chaos erupted outside the door. Tao Ziyi was forcing her way in, while several guards tried to block her—though none dared lay a hand on her. Ruixiang pleaded along the way, "Madam, you cannot enter. The director has given strict orders—this room is absolutely off-limits to you."
Tao Ziyi wore a standing-collar cotton satin cheongsam, its hem embroidered with vibrant peonies in gold thread, and draped over it was a black wool cape. Her head held high, her face adorned with a light layer of powder, she exuded an elegant and imposing authority. "You worthless scum! If any of you dares to touch me, I’ll make sure you die without a grave to bury you in!"None of the guards, including Ruixiang, dared to stop her. They all retreated meekly, allowing Tao Ziyi to barge straight through the door. Inside, a faint figure lay hidden behind the bed curtains. Tao Ziyi strode forward, the hem of her cheongsam swaying incessantly. She yanked open the bed curtains, but the moment she laid eyes on Ye Pingjun, she was stunned. Disbelief flashed in her eyes. "How did you end up like this?!"
Pingjun seemed disturbed by the commotion. She slowly turned her head to look at Tao Ziyi, her eyes blank and vacant. Without wasting time on pleasantries, Tao Ziyi got straight to the point. "Miss Ye, do you know that Jin and Yu have gone to war?"
Pingjun appeared not to hear her words. She continued to clutch the tassels hanging from the bed curtains, slowly twisting them between her fingers, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Suppressing her rising anger, Tao Ziyi said through tears, "Miss Ye, I don't have time for games. I won't hold it against you for stealing my husband. I've endured him spending all his time fooling around with you here. Now I'm humbling myself to beg you—please persuade him to come with me to Fusang." Pingjun lay there without making a sound. Ruixiang, standing nearby, whispered, "Madam, please don't trouble Miss Ye anymore. She has no idea what you're saying."
Startled, Tao Ziyi frowned. "What has Jiang Xueting done to her?"
Before Ruixiang could reply, Pingjun suddenly smiled at Tao Ziyi. "Did you see my letter? Did you? Why didn't you come find me... Why didn't you come...?"
Tao Ziyi took a step back, horrified by what she saw, feeling the hairs on her back stand on end. Still unwilling to give up, she made one last effort. "Miss Ye, do you know? The Yu Army is about to attack. Almost all of the Northwest Army under Jiang Xueting's command has defected to Yu Changxuan. Yu Changxuan wants Xueting's life. I thought... I thought... even if he won't listen to me, he might listen to you. At least you could persuade him to leave with me..."
Pingjun only smiled at her, innocent and childlike. Tao Ziyi turned her head away, tears streaming down her cheeks, then turned and hurried out of the room. Ruixiang quickly helped Pingjun lie down. Pingjun grabbed Ruixiang's hand and suddenly said cheerfully, "Your shirt is torn. Let me mend it for you."
Ruixiang was taken aback. "Miss Ye..."
Still smiling, Pingjun continued, "When it's mended, I'll embroider a pear blossom on it. You'll wear it, and the pear blossom will rest over your heart. You must remember—it was me who embroidered that pear blossom for you... Don't forget me... Please, don't forget me..." Flustered by her rambling, Ruixiang could only placate her vaguely. "Alright, alright, I won't forget you. Don't you want a pear blossom? I'll go pick one for you."
Reassured, Pingjun nodded slowly, closed her eyes, and soon fell into a quiet sleep.When Jiang Xueting arrived, she was already awake. As soon as he entered the bedroom, he saw her sitting on the carpet gazing at the moon outside the floor-to-ceiling window, her long hair cascading down to the floor. Beside the window stood a flower stand with a vase holding several stalks of foxtail grass. The bedroom was warmed by heated pipes, creating a cozy atmosphere. In her hand, she clutched a few sprigs of pear blossoms, slowly shaking them while murmuring something under her breath.
He walked over and called her name, "Pingjun."
She turned her head and immediately broke into a radiant smile, waving the pear blossoms in her hand toward him. "It's snowing, it's snowing..."
Her mind had never been clear, and she gazed at him with a foolish grin. The moonlight from outside fell upon her, her shoulders appearing as thin as paper, her silhouette cast on the carpet like pearls sunk in well water.
He bent down and held her in his arms, whispering softly, "It's cold here. You should lie down on the bed."
She shook her head vigorously. Seeing that she was only wearing a satin nightgown and was barefoot, and feeling her icy shoulders, he insisted on carrying her to the bed. Suddenly frightened, she struggled wildly, kicking and hitting, the pear blossoms in her hand falling to the carpet. The satin nightgown slipped like water through his palm as she cried, "Let me go, let me go! I don't want you!"
In the end, he released her but lowered his head, supporting his forehead with his hand, his lips trembling silently. Seeing him like this, she reached out to move his hand and asked softly, "What's wrong?"He wiped his hand down from his forehead, took a deep breath, lifted his head to gaze at her, and smiled faintly." "I'm fine."
She stared blankly at his face, grinning foolishly. "Don't cry."
Something warm streamed down his face, like a tiny insect crawling across his skin. His breathing grew rapid, his voice choked in his throat, filled with pain and sorrow. "Pingjun, how could I have brought you to this state?"
She paid him no mind, instead searching for the pear blossoms on the carpet. Eventually, she grew tired of them and tossed them aside. Beside the floor-to-ceiling window stood a Huanghuali cabinet, on top of which sat an enamel chiming clock enclosed in a transparent glass case. She removed the glass cover and reached out to fiddle with the clock's hands, giggling as she played. Her complexion was not good, resembling a piece of warm, pale jade in the moonlight. He stared at her, finally closing his eyes slowly, his face etched with anguish and despair.
From outside the door came Zhou Zhenghai's voice, "Dean Jiang, a military report from the front lines!"
He opened his eyes but smiled faintly. "We've reached this point—what use is a military report? Let Yu Changxuan just storm the city."
"Dean Jiang..."
"Get out!"
There was no further sound from outside the door.
Startled by his outburst, she turned to look at him in his fury and took several steps back. He lowered his eyes, avoiding her gaze, and took out a cigarette case from his trench coat. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he struggled to pull out a cigarette and place it between his lips. He searched his entire body but could not find a match. Just as he grew agitated, a sudden light appeared before him—she had struck a match and brought it to him.
With the cigarette in his mouth, he stared at her in a daze.Pingjun giggled, holding the lit Foreign Fire to his cigarette while murmuring incessantly, "For you, for you."
He silently lit his cigarette from the flame in her hand, then blew out the burning match. She placed the blackened matchstick on her palm, stared at it for a long while before tossing it away. Barefoot, she paced back and forth on the grape-purple carpet, its plush fibers clinging to her snow-white feet. Wherever her gaze landed, she would smile foolishly at it.
Jiang Xueting stubbed out his cigarette, rose, and approached her, covering her face with kisses. She always feared this, trembling so violently she could barely stand, but he caught her in his embrace. Shaking her head, she evaded his lips as distant cannon fire rumbled faintly yet incessantly, like ghosts demanding lives.
Suddenly hardening his heart, he exerted force, and they nearly tumbled onto the bed together. Impatiently kicking off his shoes, he entangled himself with her frantically, even resorting to rough handling that left marks—anything to brand her as his, proof she had once belonged to him, even if only through scars. Clutching the pillow's tassels tightly, she suddenly let out muffled, childlike sobs, as if her head were being smothered. He paid no heed, lost in the intoxicating satisfaction of her warmth, beyond caring about anything else.
This was the last time, he knew.
When she awoke, he was still exhausted in sleep.
Pingjun groped on the floor for her thin nightgown and slipped it on, then stood dazedly in the center of the room. Scattered across the purple carpet were a few pear blossoms, illuminated by the cold moonlight like frost clinging to grapes, casting a chill glow through the floor-to-ceiling window.
In a trance, she walked to the Rosewood Wardrobe, where the mirror reflected her image—thin as paper, like a pale, wandering soul with no home to return to.
The man on the bed breathed wearily. Pingjun slowly bent down, lying prone on the carpet and pressing her ear to its fibers. She heard the distant cannon fire, so loud it seemed intent on shattering the entire city. Reaching desperately under the wardrobe, she strained half her body into the space until her fingers found it.
Intense pain jolted Jiang Xueting from his heavy slumber.
He opened his eyes to see Ye Pingjun before him, her face as pale as snow, gripping a gleaming Short Sword. The dagger-sized blade was exquisitely crafted, its hilt engraved with delicate plum blossoms. She held the hilt firmly, driving the sharp point into his abdomen.
His lips twitched as he whispered almost inaudibly, "Pingjun..."
Her gaze distant, she actually responded, "Hmm."
His face ghastly white, eyes fixed intently on hers, tears rolled down like burning embers. Crimson blood gushed from his mouth as he stared at her obsessively. "Why can I never find you again..."
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