Liu Wenji arrived at the northern forbidden army camp in Chang'an in the capacity of an army inspector.
With Prince Qin being punished to reflect on his mistakes behind closed doors and the Crown Prince taking control of part of the forbidden army, the Emperor dispatched eunuchs as army inspectors to monitor the troops' situation.
Liu Wenji obtained this assignment entirely through the influence of his mentor, Cheng An. He had also spent nearly all the wealth he had accumulated over the past six months in the palace to secure this opportunity to leave the court and inspect the army. Before his departure, Cheng An reminded Liu Wenji that the Emperor likely intended to reorganize the forbidden army while Prince Qin was confined. If Liu Wenji wished to distinguish himself, he should not miss this chance.
Having served at the imperial court for several months, Liu Wenji had roughly discerned that the old Emperor was one who preferred to use others' strengths to achieve his own ends.
The reorganization of the forbidden army, in the eyes of the world, was likely seen as a victory for the Crown Prince over Prince Qin; few considered that perhaps the Emperor had intended this all along.
The sky was overcast, with dark clouds blotting out the sun. At the northern camp in the suburbs, several officers greeted Liu Wenji and the eunuchs under his lead, but their reception was perfunctory and lacked respect.
Liu Wenji was accustomed to others' scorn and had long known, from his time at the Hanlin Academy, how the world despised inner court eunuchs. His heart had been tempered into numbness, so he paid no mind to the officers' coldness. He only pondered how to swiftly complete this task and return to report.
However, the eunuchs accompanying Liu Wenji, being looked down upon, were seething with anger, their faces contorted. They had always served their masters within the palace—how dare these coarse men show them such disrespect?
They tried to stir up trouble in front of Liu Wenji, and when he paid no heed, they devised a plan. Several eunuchs deliberately provoked some captains, plying them with wine during the midday meal. Then they led Liu Wenji over to hear what the drunken military men said about them—
"They're just eunuchs! What, would His Majesty behead us over a few eunuchs?"
"His Majesty actually sent eunuchs to inspect the army! Outrageous! What do eunuchs know of military affairs? Do they even understand what we do? Especially that Liu Wenji... he's nothing but a dog raised by the chief eunuch. How dare he put on a stern face with us? Who does he think he is?"
"When I was killing people, these eunuchs would have pissed themselves in fear! Oh wait, can they even piss? Hahaha..."
Liu Wenji stood outside the tent, listening to the crude insults within. The eunuch who had brought him watched his expression and saw Liu Wenji suddenly glance at them, a shadow of gloom and suppressed rage flashing in his eyes, carrying a cold, murderous intent. Liu Wenji flicked his sleeve and walked away, ignoring the even more vulgar insults that followed.
It was nothing more than being looked down upon.
Nothing more than humiliation.
The injustice of fate pressed down upon him, thick as the overcast clouds in the sky. The path was steep and treacherous, and going against the current was arduous. Liu Wenji walked faster and faster, his expression shifting from initial gloom to increasing calm. He buried the murderous intent within his heart, no longer revealing it—
Under the gloomy sky, tree shadows dappled the ground, and the small blossoms on the trees, at the cusp of spring and summer, bloomed extravagantly like a thin mist.
In the Wei residence, Zhao Lingfei had climbed over the wall, intending to take a side path, but unexpectedly encountered Wei Shu standing beneath a tree, gazing up at the leaves in a daze.
The leaves and light fell upon him, overlapping like algae, bright as snow.
Zhao Lingfei met Wei Shu's dark eyes, blushing for a moment, then feeling awkward. After all, she had sneaked in by climbing the wall and had been caught by the master of the house—it was indeed improper.However, Wei Shu remained silent, so Zhao Lingfei shamelessly pretended not to know about the matter. She jumped down from the wall, clapped her hands, and deliberately acted natural as she explained her actions: "I went home for a while and saw that my father had actually started exchanging betrothal cards—he really intends to marry me off to that old man. In a fit of anger, I argued with my father and ran away again."
Wei Shu said nothing.
Zhao Lingfei lowered her head and kicked at the flowers and grass by her feet: "Hey, but why are you at the residence? Shouldn't you be working at the government office?"
Wei Shu replied: "I've been warned by the Censorate. Starting today, I am resting at home. When I return to work will depend on further notice."
Zhao Lingfei widened her eyes, indignant on his behalf: "Why?! What mistake did you make for the court to treat you like this?"
The young man's face was as clear and cold as snow, quiet and indifferent. Zhao Lingfei stared at him for a long moment before suddenly having an epiphany: "Is it because... you refused to get engaged to Princess Danyang, and the Wei Family said something to your superior? Are they threatening you?"
Wei Shu lowered his eyes.
The Li Family and Wei Family wanted to collaborate, and he and Mu Wan Yao were the key to it all. The worldly decrees descended upon him, forcing him to yield, over and over again.
He was merely a concubine-born son of the Wei Family, merely a tool in the hands of the Wei and Li Families. He was supposed to do whatever they required of him, and if anything went wrong, he would be discarded.
But was this really his fate? He had left the Wei Family at fourteen, entered court service at fifteen, and now he was already sixteen... Was he still unable to escape this fate?—
In Prince Jin's residence, Chunhua turned to look at Yan Shang beyond the screen.
Yan Shang's voice trembled, and she couldn't ignore it. This was the first time Yan Shang had ever asked her for help, so humble and powerless... Chunhua watched him, remaining silent for a long time before whispering softly: "Her Highness would not want me to tell you. She especially doesn't want you to know, nor for you to pity her."
Yan Shang said sorrowfully: "I know, so I never ask. But knowing these things isn't to humiliate her. Too many problems stand between us; only by understanding the past can I know what I should do. It's for the sake of respect, not pity."
"I might help someone out of sympathy, but I would never love someone out of pity. I know what I'm doing."
Time was of the essence—any delay might mean Prince Jin would return soon.
After a long silence, Chunhua finally murmured: "Then you must promise me that you will find an opportunity to tell Her Highness later—do not deceive her. If I get the chance to see Her Highness in the future, I won't hide today's events either. I'm telling you this because I trust Yan Erlang's character. If knowing this leads you to part ways with Her Highness, I have nothing more to say. But Her Highness has done nothing wrong—you cannot blame her for her mistakes!"
Yan Shang said quietly: "I would never blame her."
Chunhua remained silent for a long time.
From behind the screen, Yan Shang heard her voice, low and calm, as if devoid of emotion: "Her Highness celebrated her fifteenth birthday and coming-of-age ceremony on our way to the Peace Marriage. At that time, we only thought the Black Barbarians were desolate and savage, but Her Highness was full of confidence, wanting to educate a group of barbarians."
"Back then, the most capable personal maid by Her Highness's side wasn't me, but an older sister named Nong Hua. Nong Hua was a bit older than all of us and protected Her Highness like an elder sister. I was even a little jealous of Nong Hua back then, wondering when I could be like Sister Nong Hua...""There is only one Nong Hua. We were all named after the four seasons, only Nong Hua was different from us. But Nong Hua died forever among the Black Barbarians. She was the first among us to die..."
Dark clouds loomed overhead, following them even far from Chang'an.
Mu Wan Yao sat in the carriage, her cheek resting on her hand, eyes closed. As the carriage jolted, the ornate hairpin in her locks gently tapped against her forehead, its red gemstone casting a brilliant glow that enhanced her exquisite brows and snow-white complexion.
Fang Tong knocked on the carriage wall from outside: "Your Highness, it seems rain is approaching. Should we stop early and seek shelter at the courier station today?"
The lady inside the carriage gave no response.
Accustomed to the princess's occasional peculiar moods, Fang Tong didn't press further. Instead, he instructed the guards: "Make haste and cover more distance. Since Her Highness doesn't wish to rest here, we should try to reach the next station before nightfall."
The carriage accelerated its pace, anxious to avoid being stranded by the impending storm.
Inside, Mu Wan Yao slept with closed eyes, unaware of Fang Tong's inquiry. She was lost in an absurd dream, one so captivating she couldn't bear to wake...
In Prince Jin's residence, Chunhua was telling Yan Shang a lengthy story.
In romantic tales, peace marriage princesses always experienced passionate and beautiful cross-cultural romances.
These fictional princesses were invariably gentle, kind, resilient and courageous, while the barbarian kings were always young, handsome, wise and intelligent. Different cultures would collide, beautiful souls would attract. In these stories, after enduring countless hardships and suffering numerous grievances, the peace marriage princess would always have her sincerity recognized by the barbarian king, and would finally be understood.
But reality was not like that.
Mu Wan Yao wasn't strong enough - when wronged, she could only weep in confusion; the Uman King wasn't young or handsome either - he was a middle-aged man who, reportedly to welcome his new queen, had abandoned his previous wife. Because of this, he disliked Mu Wan Yao from the start.
He blamed Mu Wan Yao for her fragility, for not being robust enough, for failing to cast off restraints like the women of Uman.
Women among the Black Barbarians were shared commodities, but Mu Wan Yao, coming through peace marriage, refused this; Uman women only needed to please men, while Mu Wan Yao, arriving as a peace bride, held herself aloft, looking down upon Uman men.
The old Uman King wasn't wise - the wisest decision of his life was probably agreeing to the peace marriage with Great Wei. And his motivation for this decision was merely coveting Great Wei's jewels, glassware, and fine silks. He was crude and barbaric, wild by nature, knowing no rules.
Mu Wan Yao suffered deeply because of him.
Chunhua whispered: "It was the current Uman King, Meng Zaishi, who rescued Her Highness from that fate. Meng Zaishi saved Her Highness multiple times, taking her away whenever she was on the verge of collapse. Her Highness seemed to truly become the kind of woman she wanted to be.
"But I don't know - when sitting on the grasslands of Uman, around the bonfire, while everyone was singing and laughing joyfully, when Her Highness looked at Meng Zaishi, was there genuine love in her tender, smiling gaze?
"And I don't know - when Her Highness grew strong, when she schemed to kill the old Uman King, sitting by his bedside listening to his deathbed confession, when she sighed softly, did she truly pity the dying old king?"
Chunhua's voice trembled: "When passing between different men, when those around her died one by one, what was she thinking?""When she told me she was pregnant, but couldn't keep the child, when she wanted to abort the fetus—what was going through her mind?"
"Erlang, do you realize that Your Highness was cutting off her own path to survival... When that child wouldn't miscarry, she tried every method possible... By the time she was barely clinging to life, having lost so much blood, it was the Uman King who climbed the snowy mountains to seek divine herbs to save Your Highness... But when the Uman King knelt by Your Highness's bedside, looking at that bloody stillborn fetus, what was the princess thinking?"
"Meng Zaishi held the princess and wept that night. Yet the princess didn't shed a single tear. She never even glanced at the stillborn child—we buried it secretly... I don't know what Your Highness has been thinking all these years. She doesn't confide in us, yet she smiles charmingly and beautifully for men. She's become reckless and willful, flying into rages over the slightest thing, often scolding us for our clumsiness... But what does that matter?"
Chunhua bowed her head, tears welling in her eyes.
Her hands braced against the wooden table, shoulders trembling slightly. Tears fell drip by drip, splashing against the floor tiles like withered flowers blooming. As if in a daze, she murmured to herself:
"It's just losing her temper, just being unhappy. What does it matter? I've witnessed her suffering, seen how she endured through it all... I'd rather she lose her temper every single day."
"To vent it all out, to forget everything."
"Erlang, do you blame Your Highness for being unable to bear children? Even if you blame her, please don't leave her because of this. Find any other reason you want..."
Yan Shang remained silent.
Overwhelmed, he staggered back two steps and leaned against the table behind him. His fists clenched tightly within his sleeves, his face taut—so tense it trembled slightly. Utterly ashamed, disoriented, and disheveled, he stammered: "I've troubled you... I... I must take my leave now."
The atmosphere was too oppressive; he could no longer stay in Prince Jin's residence. Yan Shang hastily bowed and turned to leave.
As he exited the main hall, he heard the rumble of thunder from the sky. He closed his eyes briefly, and though he hadn't witnessed it himself, he could almost hear her weeping by his ear.
After leaving Prince Jin's residence, Yan Shang mounted his horse. As he rode, memories besieged him, entangling him. His empathy had always been strong, and this time it involved Mu Wan Yao. With every stride of his horse, the young man gripping the reins seemed to hear her cries.
Whether his eyes were open or closed, he could see her standing in the darkness.
She held a sword, her clothes stained red with blood, her face as pale as paper. In the mournful wind and bitter rain, amidst desolation everywhere, her dark eyes fixed on him as she reached out her hand, whispering:
"Second Brother Yan, save me."
Yan Shang bent over on his horse, his heart aching as if struck by heavy blows.
In his hallucination, he saw her lying on the bed, blood flowing freely, life ebbing away with it; he saw her chasing after that old man, begging him not to take her maid away; he saw her and Meng Zaishi riding through stone cliffs, laughing brightly and carefree... Then she turned her face toward him, and the laughter in her eyes became hollow and false.
She reached out her hand to him, whispering:
"Brother, save me."
"Save me."
"Save me!"
Yan Shang fought back tears, yet moisture clung to his lashes. Hunched over, he pressed a hand to his heart, the pain tearing him apart as his whole body trembled. Overwhelming sorrow enveloped him, making him want to weep and cry out loud.Her heart ached to the point of tears, yet sorrow left her speechless.
"Boom—"
Thunder exploded across the sky, torrential rain poured down like a deluge from the heavens—
The sudden storm hindered Danyang Princess's procession midway. Under Fang Tong's command, those outside hurried to seek shelter from the rain. Inside the carriage, Mu Wan Yao's cloud-like hair was disheveled, her long lashes fluttering. Lost in a dream, she remained unconscious.
She dreamed she had become a fifteen-year-old young princess.
In the dream, she escaped the fate of a Peace Marriage.
She grew up happily in Chang'an, eagerly awaiting her grand coming-of-age ceremony at fifteen. Afterwards, she encountered a youth in Chang'an—a young man of divine grace and elegance, as exquisite as a jade celestial.
Smitten beyond measure, she pleaded everywhere, mustering the courage for the first time to willfully assert her princess temper, insisting on marrying that youth. The Emperor and Empress had no choice but to grant him the title of Tanhua (Third Place in Imperial Examinations), ultimately fulfilling their young daughter's wish by marrying her off on her coming-of-age day.
Thus, in the dream, Mu Wan Yao always trailed behind that youth:
"Second Brother Yan, won't you stay in Chang'an? Won't you come and marry this princess?"
"Second Brother Yan, won't you play with me? Won't you hold me?"
"Second Brother Yan, won't we marry? Won't we become husband and wife? Won't I bear you many children?"
"Second Brother Yan, won't you always love me? Won't we be together... forever and ever?"—
Under the muffled thunder, rain fell heavily like beans.
The afternoon Chang'an city was washed clean by the rain, the storm sweeping through like a gale as commoners took shelter across the marketplace.
Only one young gentleman did not seek cover—he rode on horseback, drifting absently through the streets. Those sheltering under shop eaves watched the youth in the misty rain, with bold, lovesick girls calling out loudly:
"Young master, such heavy rain! Come take shelter here!"
Yan Shang sat on his horse, his body and robes drenched. Wet hair clung to his face as he turned somewhat bewildered, noticing the crowd sheltering under the shops.
Suddenly, he snapped to attention, for the first time forgetting propriety and neglecting to acknowledge the kind-hearted girl who had called to him. Gripping the reins tightly, Yan Shang turned direction and headed for the Princess Residence.
Most of the Princess Residence's staff had already left Chang'an, though some remained to maintain the illusion, to prevent Yan Shang from discovering the princess was gone. Dismounting in the alley, Yan Shang knocked on the residence's gate. The servants opened it, offering their usual apologies, but this time Yan Shang was determined to enter, determined to see her...
Amidst the struggle and commotion, the residence's staff, unable to handle Yan Shang, finally shouted: "Our Highness is no longer in Chang'an! Erlang, even if you beg us and enter, it's useless!"
"Boom—"
Thunder roared again at the horizon.
Lightning illuminated Yan Shang's ice-cold, rain-drenched eyes.
Without a word, he turned and left, remounting his horse, galloping straight toward the city gates!—
At Chang'an's northern barracks, just after the midday meal as the storm began, an uprising erupted.
Some soldiers clashed with the eunuchs, and a captain came to mediate, yet his words showed insufficient respect toward the eunuchs.
Liu Wenji, brought by the eunuchs, heard the captain joking: "What's the matter with you all, quarreling with those rootless men. They're sent by His Majesty, we can't disregard the Emperor's face... Ah!"The captain let out a wretched scream as all the surrounding soldiers rose to their feet, glaring furiously. "Sir! What are you doing!"
The first exclamation was directed at the dead captain, while the second was aimed at Liu Wenji, who was calmly withdrawing his sword from the captain’s back and wiping the blood from the blade.
Liu Wenji used a cloth to coldly clean the blood off his sword. The soldiers encircled them, eyes wide with rage and indignation. As they stirred restlessly, Liu Wenji lifted his gaze, his sinister eyes fixed on them. "Let’s see who dares to move!
"Do you intend to defy the imperial decree?
"Take one more step, and I will drench this entire camp in blood! Let’s see whose side His Majesty takes!"
Pale-faced and with a menacing glare, Liu Wenji momentarily paralyzed the soldiers with fear.
In the tense silence, a bold soldier spoke up: "Of course His Majesty would side with us…"
Liu Wenji replied coldly, "Are you certain?
"If I kill you, what can you do about it?"
Sword in hand, Liu Wenji advanced step by step, his gaze icy, while the soldiers retreated one step at a time. He scanned the crowd and declared loudly, "Do you all wish to be rebels?!"
The soldiers around him breathed heavily, their eyes filled with hatred and contempt. Yet, how cowardly they were—armed with weapons, not one dared to charge forward and strike Liu Wenji down.
Amid the sound of rain splattering outside, Liu Wenji faced a tent full of soldiers seething with suppressed anger. The calmer he remained, the more immobilized they became. When one finally dared to act, Liu Wenji pointed his sword, and the bold soldier was swiftly restrained by the clever eunuchs.
His back drenched in sweat, the terror of killing for the first time was overwhelming. Yet in that moment, he felt both bitterness and exhilaration. He suddenly wanted to burst into wild laughter—
How laughable! How pitiful!
This is fate!—
In the Wei residence, as the heavy rain poured, Wei Shu and Zhao Lingfei sat in the main hall.
Wei Shu sat before a chessboard, facing Zhao Lingfei, who wore a troubled expression.
Zhao Lingfei murmured in confusion, "Must I really marry an old man…"
Wei Shu replied, "No."
Hearing him speak, Zhao Lingfei looked at him in surprise. She watched as Wei Shu placed a white piece on the board, the young man lowering his eyes, his lashes thick.
As if persuading both himself and Zhao Lingfei, he spoke in a calm yet resolute tone: "Even a mayfly can shake a tree; even an ant strives for spring. Why should we yield to fate?"
Zhao Lingfei stared at him, stunned.
He raised his eyes to look at her, yet his gaze seemed to pierce through her, reaching toward a broader future. Zhao Lingfei turned with him to gaze out the window at the rain-drenched world, at the ancient tree standing firm in the storm, and the vines beneath the window battered by the rain yet refusing to fall from the wall.
The young man and woman watched the downpour together, murmuring in unison as if speaking to themselves, "...Yes, why should we yield to fate?"—
Fate is unjust! Fate is cruel! Fate toys with us!
Then let us spend our lives resisting, never yielding, never falling!—
As the rain drenched the world, a young eunuch stood with a sword, confronting an entire camp of soldiers and beginning to kill; a young courtier and a young lady sat together, their hearts set on a decision to break the deadlock.
A young princess awoke in a carriage miles from Chang’an, gazing out at the curtain of rain between heaven and earth; a young man presented his waist token, mounted a horse, and rode out of the city, leaving Chang’an behind—It had been dark for a long time, and the rain had lightened somewhat. Fang Tong and the others finally found a relay station more than ten li away from Chang'an, where they could stay for the night.
Xiarong assisted Mu Wan Yao as she alighted from the carriage. The resplendent train of her gown cascaded behind her, and after she stepped onto the ground, her maids held it up from behind to prevent the princess’s robes from being splashed with mud.
Mu Wan Yao stood composedly, steadying herself as she observed the lantern lights of the relay station. Just as she was about to proceed toward the station, she heard the sound of galloping hooves approaching from behind. Proud as she was, Mu Wan Yao felt no curiosity at the moment. The dream she had that afternoon had left her emotionally drained, and she had no energy to concern herself with who else might be staying at the station.
As Mu Wan Yao lifted her foot to ascend the steps, the hoofbeats ceased, replaced by hurried, unsteady footsteps drawing near.
Mu Wan Yao remained indifferent.
It wasn’t until she overheard a maid’s bewildered and anxious murmur—“Er… Erlang?”—that she froze.
Yet she quickly reasoned that there were countless men in the world ranked second among their siblings—it couldn’t possibly be him. At this hour, he should have just returned from the Department of State Affairs to his residence and, if fortunate, would have only just learned that she had left Chang’an.
As these thoughts crossed her mind, the person caught up to her from behind.
Her wrist was seized from behind.
She was pulled down the steps and turned around to face the one who had pursued her. Her wrist remained in his grasp, and her eyes widened gradually, staring in stunned disbelief at Yan Shang, drenched and disheveled like a drowned rat.
His collar and sleeves were spattered with mud, his hair ribbon clung damply to his shoulders, and his long hair hung in wet strands plastered against his cheeks. His face was pale, his lips strikingly red.
Though his disheveled state exuded a poignant, chaotic beauty, it was far from Yan Shang’s usual demeanor.
Mu Wan Yao felt dazed, wondering if this was still a dream.
Had the afternoon’s dream… stretched on for so long?
Under the dim lantern light, Yan Shang’s hand trembled slightly as he held hers, raindrops dripping from his lashes onto her clean, slender wrist. Mu Wan Yao glanced down at her captured wrist, then lifted her gaze to him, still bewildered and confused.
Amid the pattering rain, Xiarong stood nearby holding an umbrella, as lost as the other maids. The attendants watched as Yan Erlang stood before the princess, their eyes locked.
The rain had soaked him through, accentuating his slender, upright frame. Like jade or bamboo, he bore the marks of wind and frost.
Before the relay station, the faint light in Yan Shang’s eyes shone upon her, as tranquil and dark as the night, yet as clear and gentle as still water. The princess’s expression shifted, and she tried to pull away, but Yan Shang, uncharacteristically firm, did not retreat.
Encased in the rain, Fang Tong pushed open the station door, lantern in hand. They saw Yan Shang standing under the eaves, still holding the princess’s wrist, as he whispered softly, “Haven’t you always blamed me for lacking impulsiveness?
“Consider this my moment of impulsiveness for you… I left Chang’an without taking leave.”
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