The yellow sand stretched endlessly, with winds whipping the banners high. The journey was fraught with hardships, and even the sun, moon, and stars seemed mere decorations.
The escorting guards were scattered and disorganized, showing little respect to the person inside the carriage.
A maid-like girl walked up from the rear of the convoy, hopped onto the carriage, and handed a bowl of porridge to the person inside, saying, "Your Highness, the porridge is a bit cold, but it’s still edible. Since we’re in the middle of nowhere, you should have a bite."
The woman in the carriage was still young, though her expression was weary. Her clothes were not particularly fine—upon closer inspection, they were styles from years past, and even ill-fitting due to her thin frame. She lifted the carriage curtain and asked, "Where are we now?"
"Just a bit further, and we’ll reach the main road before nightfall," Bailu replied with a smile. "I’ve asked the others—we’ll surely return to Fixed Capital within five days."
Shuangjiang also smiled. "Once we’re back in the palace, Your Highness will finally see better days."
"Better days..." Shen Miao gave a bitter laugh. "But those we’ve lost will never return."
She was referring to Jing Zhe and Gu Yu. At her words, Bailu and Shuangjiang’s eyes dimmed with sorrow, and they fell silent.
Jing Zhe had willingly become a concubine to win over a powerful minister, only to be beaten to death by the minister’s wife on some pretext during Shen Miao’s first year in Qin State. As for Gu Yu... Shen Miao clenched her fists—he had died protecting her at the hands of Huangfu Hao.
Five years—a full five years. Her time in Qin State had stripped away the last traces of her pride. She had gritted her teeth and endured humiliation, all for the hope of one day returning to her homeland and reuniting with her children. Yet the price she had paid—the unspeakable hardships—could never be fully conveyed.
How difficult had this journey been? Even the escorting guards were few and far between. Looking at this meager convoy, who would believe it was the entourage of an Empress? The retinue she had brought to Qin State had long since scattered or perished over those five years. Much like this journey home, had it not been for Mo Qing’s protection, she would never have survived.
Shen Miao sighed. At least none of the suffering had been in vain. Five years—she had finally endured them.
Just as she was lost in thought, it should have been time for the convoy to move on. But instead of setting off, a clamor arose from the front.
Frowning slightly, she lifted the carriage curtain and called out, "What’s going on?"
Mo Qing approached from the front and said, "We’ve encountered a strange man asking for water." Before he could finish, a shabbily dressed old man appeared behind him, grinning at Shen Miao. "Madam, I’m dying of thirst. Could you spare some water?"
The old man was oddly dressed and reeked of filth, his piercing gaze unsettling. It wasn’t that they refused to give him water, but given Shen Miao’s delicate position, any ill-intentioned person could spell disaster. Mo Qing ordered the guards to restrain the old man, preventing him from getting closer. Yet Shen Miao smiled and said, "There’s a drought along the way, and the heavens show no mercy. A bowl of water could save a life. Give it to him. I... I won’t miss a single bowl."Since Shen Miao had spoken, Mo Qing didn't hesitate either. He ordered someone to fetch a bowl of clear water for the old man. The old man gulped it down in one go, patted his belly, pushed aside the guards' hands, and stood up. He gave Shen Miao a proper bow and said, "Madam, your kindness has saved this poor Daoist's life. This bowl of water is a debt I must repay."
"A Daoist?" Shen Miao was taken aback, then smiled. "Are you a Daoist priest?"
"My Daoist name is Chiyan," the strange old man looked at Shen Miao and shook his head. "Madam, your countenance is extremely noble, but your fate is too shallow to bear such noble fortune."
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Bailu frowned and turned to Shen Miao. "Madam, he's probably just some wandering charlatan. Don't listen to his rubbish."
Mo Qing also made a move to shoo the strange old man away.
"Wait," Shen Miao said. "The journey has been rather dull. Let's hear what he has to say."
The old man put on another theatrical bow and said, "Madam, there is dark energy between your brows—a bad omen. The end of this road holds misfortune. If you turn your carriage around now, you may avoid this calamity. Madam, this poor Daoist advises you: this path leads to the Yellow Springs. Do not take it, for once you do, there will be no turning back."
"This is getting out of hand!" Shuangjiang's face turned livid with anger. "Who are you cursing?"
Shen Miao, however, remained good-natured. Having stayed in Qin State for so long, she felt a fondness for anyone from Ming Qi as if they were fellow countrymen. Even if the old man was spouting nonsense, she wasn't angry. She merely smiled and said, "Thank you for the warning, Daoist, but this is a path I must take. My children are on this road—I must go home."
The strange Daoist sighed deeply. "As I expected." He looked at Shen Miao. "Our fleeting encounter grants you a karmic bond." With that, he pulled a red string from his sleeve and moved to give it to Shen Miao, but Mo Qing blocked him. The Daoist had no choice but to hand the string to Mo Qing, who inspected it carefully before passing it to Shen Miao.
"This red string is my token of gratitude to you, Madam. Tie it around your wrist, and it will help fulfill a karmic bond for you." He spoke with grave solemnity. "Madam, remember this: the ways of Heaven are inscrutable, but human effort can shape destiny. This poor Daoist can read fate but cannot alter it. The one who can change your fate is not me. Heaven favors life—there are calamities, but there are also bonds. This red string is a question. One day, Madam, you will find your own answer."
With that, he burst into loud laughter, turned, and strode away.
The Daoist's mystical ramblings and ominous prophecies left Bailu and Shuangjiang displeased. Bailu said, "Madam, please don't take that strange man's words to heart. He's probably not right in the head."
"And don't wear that thing either," Shuangjiang added. "It's too inauspicious."
But Shen Miao turned the red string over in her hands, inexplicably drawn to its charm. Instead of discarding it, she tied it around her wrist and smiled. "Since it's a karmic bond, even a fleeting encounter is fate. Let's keep it. If it's fake, no harm done. If it's real and has spiritual power, isn't that even better?"
With her words so firm, Bailu and Shuangjiang could say no more. Mo Qing signaled the carriage train to move on, and the journey resumed.
The distant wind and sand nearly obscured all traces of human presence. Ahead on the road, the strange old man was nowhere to be seen.
…Returning to Ming Qi again was not the "bitterness ends and sweetness begins" that Shuangjiang had spoken of.
The world changes every moment—circumstances shift, and so do people's hearts.
As the Empress, there was nothing particularly special about her position beyond its title. Sometimes, when she thought about it, it didn’t seem much better than the days in Qin State when she had suffered humiliation. In Qin, the harm had been overt and direct, but in Ming Qi, it was hidden in the shadows—like swallowing a bitter pill in silence, unable to speak of it, only to invite ridicule for no reason.
Shen Miao sat in the Kunning Palace, gazing listlessly at the slightly withered Red Sleeve Herb on the table.
The herb had been brought to her by Mo Qing, who claimed it was a rare and spiritual plant. It was indeed beautiful, resembling the fluttering sleeves of a woman in the wind, hence its name. But for some reason, it had begun to wither recently, and Shen Miao had no heart to tend to it.
Several years had passed since her return to Ming Qi, and none of them had been particularly kind to her.
The imperial harem now had an additional figure—Mei Furen. She was enchanting, clever, and exuded a gentle charm, like an enigma that drew gazes and refused to let them go.
At first, Shen Miao had not been spared the heartbreak. The man she had once adored now looked at another woman with such doting affection. She had thought he treated everyone with the same indifference, only to realize later that it wasn’t the case—it was simply that she wasn’t the one.
After enduring heartbreak too many times, she gradually grew numb. The pain and despondency slowly transformed into resentment and bitterness—all because of Fu Sheng.
Fu Sheng always monopolized Fu Xiuyi’s favor, while her own son, Fu Ming, despite being the Crown Prince, despite his virtue, talent, and diligence, ended up like a neglected prince. Fu Xiuyi could personally teach Fu Sheng calligraphy and statecraft, yet he begrudged even a single glance of concern toward Fu Ming.
When questioned, he would say that Fu Ming was the Crown Prince and needed to be mature and steady—what kind of prince clung to his father every day?
But every time she saw the disappointment in Fu Ming’s eyes, Shen Miao felt as though her heart were being sliced apart.
The Shen family wasn’t faring well either. Luo Xueyan’s illness grew worse by the day, and Jing Chuchu’s ambiguous entanglement with Shen Qiu dragged on. The Shen family’s reputation continued to decline, and even Shen Xin had aged considerably.
It seemed Fu Xiuyi was suppressing the Shen family. Shen Miao vaguely sensed this, but how could someone in the inner palace clearly grasp the affairs of the court? The only person she could rely on for such information was Pei Lang—yet Pei Lang was loyal to Fu Xiuyi. Though he had a good relationship with her, his allegiance always came first.
Shen Miao’s once-devoted heart for Fu Xiuyi had long since turned to ice over the years, watching coldly as he indulged in intimacy with Mei Furen. But in her position, she had to fulfill her duties—she had to secure her place as Empress, for Fu Ming and Wan Yu’s sake.
News had recently arrived from the Xiongnu that Mei Furen seemed to be urging Fu Xiuyi to send Wan Yu there for a political marriage.
This was what Shen Miao could least tolerate.
Yet Mei Furen’s methods grew ever more refined. Fu Xiuyi’s favoritism toward Fu Sheng was plain for all to see, and the Shen family’s decline only worsened. Those who sided with Mei Furen were far too many—kicking someone when they were down had become a common pastime. Moreover, Mei Furen’s brother, Li Ke, had recently accomplished several major tasks for Fu Xiuyi, further elevating his status. With this rising tide, Mei Furen’s position in the harem climbed higher and higher.Shen Miao knew what the court officials were thinking—they were wondering when the Crown Prince would be replaced and when the Empress would be deposed.
But Fu Xiuyi still cared about appearances. She was his lawful wife, and for Mei Furen to surpass her was not so simple.
The endless scheming and back-and-forth had left her heart utterly exhausted. If not for her two children, there were times she felt it would be better to set the entire palace ablaze, inside and out, if only for the sake of peace in the world.
Bailu entered and said, "Your Majesty, the attire for the palace banquet has been prepared. You should begin dressing your hair soon."
Shen Miao acknowledged her.
Shuangjiang had died a year ago—Mei Furen’s methods were ruthless, sparing not even the maids by her side. In the end, only Bailu remained.
Tonight was the palace banquet of Ming Qi. With the New Year approaching, Fu Xiuyi would feast and reward his ministers, but most importantly, it was to bid farewell to the young Marquis of Lin'an, Xie Jingxing, before his departure. Xie Ding, the Marquis of Lin'an, had died on the Northern Frontier Battlefield, and now his son was setting off to war once more. The timing was far from ideal—some might even say the mission carried an air of tragedy—yet Xie Jingxing had accepted the Marshal warrant.
Shen Miao and Xie Jingxing had little interaction, only the faintest connection due to the delicate relationship between the Shen and Xie families. Since Xie Ding’s passing, the Marquis Lin'an Manor had been upheld by Xie Jingxing alone. It was a lamentable state—once, the saying went, "The Xies in the south, the Shens in the north," but now the Shen family declined day by day, and the Xie family too had fallen into ruin. Truly, it was a case of mourning the hare’s death when the fox too faced peril.
But Xie Jingxing had his own path to walk—was Shen Miao’s any less treacherous?
"Prepare my hair," she said.
The music was chaotic, unsettling the heart—this banquet was unusually lively.
Fu Xiuyi had not been in such high spirits for a long time. His usually stern expression softened, his smile more carefree than ever. Shen Miao watched coldly as Fu Sheng toasted him, the father and son sharing a heartwarming moment, yet her own heart chilled.
Fu Ming sat primly to the side, and Wan Yu was equally proper. The ministers often praised the Crown Prince and Princess for their maturity beyond their years, carrying themselves with the dignified bearing of adults—such grace was not something just anyone could cultivate. Though their words were mere pleasantries, they were not entirely wrong. But who would choose to be sensible if they could freely act spoiled and playful? Maturity was nothing more than a forced adaptation.
Wan Yu and Fu Ming had once tried to be close to Fu Xiuyi, but children’s hearts were the most direct and innocent—they could sense his indifference, and so, gradually, they too became reserved and polite.
Shen Miao sat beside Fu Xiuyi, yet she saw how his gaze frequently met Mei Furen’s. Mei Furen smiled and laughed, the affection between them palpable, and Fu Xiuyi returned her smiles faintly.
Shen Miao thought, those two must be truly happy.
But what of the guest of honor at this banquet?
Unconsciously, her gaze drifted to the man seated on the left side of the hall.
The young man was breathtakingly handsome, his posture languid yet spirited as he reclined slightly in his seat. His dark purple robe was loose, yet it could not conceal his radiant vigor. A faint smile played on his lips as he sipped his wine slowly, as if the clamor around him held no relevance—utterly out of place amidst the revelry.Shen Miao inwardly laughed, thinking that the young lord of Marquis Lin'an Manor bore some resemblance to herself. Amidst the lively and joyous gathering, her heart was not truly merry. Xie Jingxing was embarking on a perilous path of bloodshed with an uncertain fate, while her own life's end remained an unknown.
Surrounded by enemies on all sides, with danger lurking at every corner, both were teetering on the brink of life and death.
She also picked up a wine cup, pouring herself a drink, sipping it slowly and with great restraint.
After all, an Empress must maintain dignity and grace, unlike favored concubines who could drink with abandon, their charm intoxicating and alluring.
As the banquet concluded and the guests dispersed in twos and threes, she remained seated, listening as Mei Furen said, "Your Majesty, this concubine has prepared fine wine tonight. Would Your Majesty accompany me to watch the fireworks? Sheng'er also mentioned wanting to challenge Your Majesty to a game of chess."
Fu Xiuyi laughed heartily, tapping Mei Furen's nose playfully. "This competitive nature of yours is truly a mirror of your own."
Shen Miao swallowed the words she had intended to say: "After a whole year, Wan Yu and the Crown Prince also wish to spend time with Your Majesty."
Turning back, the dimmed light in the children's eyes pained her heart.
Yet she endured the pain, maintaining a composed and indifferent expression.
But on this New Year's night, sleep eluded her.
After coaxing the children to bed, she sensed their lack of enthusiasm for the coming year. The sound of fireworks echoed within the palace walls late into the night. From Mei Furen's quarters, the view of the fireworks must have been the best. No doubt, the three of them were sharing a moment of warmth.
Shen Miao draped a robe over herself and instructed Bailu to bring a jar of wine and a bowl, then headed to the garden.
From a corner of the garden, she could catch a glimpse of the fireworks—only a small portion, but even that was dazzling enough to light up the sky. One could imagine how magnificent the full display must be on the other side.
She took out a bowl, and Bailu looked on with concern. Shen Miao waved her hand, signaling her not to speak.
"The fireworks are so beautiful," Shen Miao murmured, her voice tinged with drunkenness. "When will I ever see them in their entirety?"
Suddenly, she laughed. "Perhaps never."
Just then, footsteps crunched softly on the snow behind her.
Bailu started in alarm. "Who—?"
Shen Miao turned to see someone parting the dense shadows of the trees and stepping forward.
A guard stood behind, while the figure in front was tall, clad in a purple robe and black boots. His peach-blossom eyes reflected the fireworks in the night, strikingly bright and captivating, his beauty undeniable.
"The Marquis of Lin'an... Lord Xie?" Shen Miao squinted at him.
The man seemed equally surprised. "Tsk," he remarked. "So Fu Xiuyi's Empress is a drunkard."
His guard spoke up. "Master, we should leave."
Bailu grew tense, unsure why Xie Jingxing was still in the palace. An Empress and a minister standing together could invite disaster, especially since Shen Miao was already treading carefully in the palace. Any excuse would be seized to slander her. At such a time, it was best to stay as far away as possible from the Heir Apparent of Marquis Lin'an Manor.Bailu dared not disturb others, and since the garden was quite secluded, she whispered, "Heir Apparent, the Empress has had a bit too much to drink. This servant was just about to help her back. Please pretend you didn’t see anything."
Xie Jingxing glanced at Shen Miao, chuckled, and seemed to lose interest as he turned to leave.
"Wait," Shen Miao called out to him.
Bailu froze, nearly frantic with the urge to cover Shen Miao’s mouth. But Shen Miao kept her gaze fixed on Xie Jingxing. She was somewhat drunk now. Ever since leaving for Qin State until now, she had never indulged freely in alcohol. Yet the saying that "a cup of wine dispels a thousand sorrows" held true. When drunk, one becomes carefree, and in that carefree state, one does many things they normally wouldn’t.
She said, "This palace has heard you’re heading to the Northern Frontier?"
Xie Jingxing crossed his arms, smirking faintly. "Does the Empress have any instructions?"
Tie Yi and Bailu both stared at Shen Miao. She smiled, picked up the bowl she had been drinking from earlier, and poured a full measure of wine from the jar into it. Holding it up for Xie Jingxing to see, she declared, "A prodigious talent among youths, a peerless figure through the ages, brilliant and unparalleled in the world."
Xie Jingxing raised an eyebrow, while Bailu flushed with embarrassment, wishing she could drag Shen Miao away. Who would praise someone so lavishly to their face?
"The Northern Frontier is a terrible place," Shen Miao said, patting his shoulder. Petite as she was, she had to rise on her tiptoes to reach. She looked at Xie Jingxing, half-serious and half-drunk, and added, "I’ve heard from my father that the land is barren, the terrain treacherous, and teeming with venomous snakes and insects. It’s easy to fall into traps. Your journey there will be fraught with danger."
"This humble subject thanks Your Majesty for your concern," Xie Jingxing replied casually.
"Shamed by anonymity in the annals of history, a loyal heart devoted to the Son of Heaven," she mumbled, raising the bowl of wine to Xie Jingxing before downing it in one gulp.
Bailu and Tie Yi were both startled—the former because she hadn’t expected Shen Miao to drink so boldly, the latter because he was surprised the Empress could be so unrestrained.
Shen Miao wiped her mouth, let out a hiccup, and said, "This bowl is my toast to you. You must return victorious."
Xie Jingxing studied her. A glistening trace of wine still lingered at the corner of her lips, catching the moonlight. Stripped of the Empress’s rigid demeanor, she was actually a very delicate and beautiful woman.
He curled his lips into a roguish smile and drawled, "It seems His Majesty has been neglecting the Empress quite a bit."
Bailu’s eyes widened. Xie Jingxing’s words were far too audacious, but she didn’t dare drag Shen Miao away outright, lest any noise attract unwanted attention and make the situation impossible to explain.
After finishing her drink, Shen Miao swayed slightly as she picked up the wine jar again, pouring another full bowl. She handed it to Xie Jingxing and said, "Now you drink."
"Why should I?" Xie Jingxing asked, baffled.
"You... share the same sorrow as this palace," Shen Miao said.
"Who shares your sorrow?" Xie Jingxing laughed. But Shen Miao was already lifting the bowl to his lips, trying to make him drink.
Bailu was horrified—this was far too intimate! Tie Yi was equally stunned, but since Xie Jingxing didn’t speak, he wouldn’t intervene.Xie Jingxing was caught off guard as he was forced to drink a bowl of wine. When he pushed Shen Miao away, much of the wine had already spilled onto his clothes. Yet when he looked at Shen Miao, she finally smiled in satisfaction. She said, "With this bowl of wine between us, when you return victorious, come watch the fireworks with me."
Xie Jingxing felt that today was truly baffling. It turned out that women lose all reason when drunk—even the usually dignified and graceful Empress was completely unlike herself.
"Your Majesty should ask the Emperor to watch with you instead," he said as he straightened his robes.
Shen Miao's expression dimmed. "I have never watched fireworks with him before."
Xie Jingxing stared at the woman before him. Her head was slightly lowered, her lips curved upward, yet her eyes held bitterness. For some reason, his heart softened. "Alright, alright," he relented. "This humble subject promises you."
Shen Miao's eyes brightened as she looked at him. "Then it's settled."
Xie Jingxing nodded.
After a moment of thought, Shen Miao shook her head. "Words alone are no proof. There must be a token of promise." She began searching through the hairpins in her hair.
Bailu was taken aback, her heart sinking. If the Empress's belongings were found on Xie Jingxing, it would be an accusation of illicit relations. Fearing that Shen Miao might hand over a handkerchief or hairpin, she suddenly noticed the red string on Shen Miao's wrist and had an idea. "Your Majesty, that red string of yours would be perfect," she suggested.
Shen Miao's gaze fell upon the red string, and with a sudden impulse, she quickly untied it. Taking Xie Jingxing's hand, she carefully fastened it around his wrist.
Xie Jingxing's eyes lingered on her slightly upturned lashes, damp as if lightly moistened by the winter chill, inexplicably stirring a faint itch in his heart.
Once Shen Miao finished tying it, she smiled at him. "This is my token to you. Let it be our pledge—await your triumphant return."
"Many thanks for the Empress's gift," Xie Jingxing replied with a nonchalant smile. "However, this humble subject has no token to offer in return. How about granting Your Majesty a wish instead?"
"A wish?" Shen Miao looked at him.
"Upon my victorious return, I shall grant Your Majesty one wish. Whatever you desire, if it is within my power, I shall spare no effort to fulfill it."
Shen Miao nodded. "It's a promise."
"It's a promise."
With a "boom," another burst of dazzling fireworks lit up the night sky. The two turned to watch, their movements eerily synchronized as if by unspoken agreement.
Bailu stood frozen in place.
Fireworks were fleeting, but some things would never fade—like this night.
When Shen Miao awoke again, her head throbbed painfully. Rubbing her temples, she rose and walked to the table, muttering, "I slept for so long."
Bailu brought her a bowl of hot soup. "Your Majesty drank quite a bit yesterday. This will help sober you up."
"Drank too much?" Shen Miao paused. "I didn't have much at the palace banquet."
Bailu hesitated. "Perhaps the wine at the banquet was stronger than usual."
Shen Miao sighed. "This habit of forgetting everything after drinking hasn't changed over the years. Though it has been a while since I last got drunk."
Bailu nodded silently as Shen Miao glanced at her bare wrist. "Where did the red string go?"
Bailu whispered, "Perhaps... it was lost."
Shen Miao sighed again. "Indeed, nothing lasts."
Under the blazing sun, the departing troops gathered at the city gates.
At the forefront was a young man astride his horse, exuding an air of lazy confidence, yet his piercing gaze made others wary of meeting his eyes.
"Master, everything is ready," Tie Yi reported.
Xie Jingxing glanced back. Once they passed these gates, his future would diverge drastically, severing all ties to his past.
In the end, he had to leave.
"There's nothing left here worth lingering for," the man in white beside him said, fanning himself. "And none of it concerns you anymore."
"Who knows? Maybe they're all hoping Third Brother never returns," the young master in pine-green robes chuckled, then looked ahead. "Regardless, we're finally going home."
"Not necessarily."
Both turned to the man in purple.
Xie Jingxing lowered his gaze to his wrist, where a red string was tied. The ends were neatly and meticulously knotted, as if nothing could ever loosen it.
"Isn't that a woman's accessory?" Ji Yushu asked. "Why are you wearing it?"
"I drank someone's farewell wine and owe them a wish," Xie Jingxing replied. "I'll repay it when I return."
With that, he raised his whip and commanded, "Move out!"
And so, they departed.
－－－－－－Author's Note－－－－－－
Dear readers, please don't rate the story with one-star reviews. Getting a dozen one-star votes from one person is just... orz... Might as well not vote at all :3ゝ∠
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