Lu Zhuo walked towards the Hall of Pine and Moon.
Having lived with Wei Rao in Ganzhou for three years and delayed by three years at the border, walking this path again after six years felt entirely familiar to him.
A Gui, Zhao Song, and Zhao Bai followed behind him. Though they had once believed their master dead, they had remained at the Hall of Pine and Moon. Upon learning of his return today, the three had rushed over immediately, their eyes red-rimmed as they silently watched their master’s back ahead.
Lu Zhuo’s heart felt hollow.
Of course, he missed his family and his daughter, but the one he longed to see most was nowhere in sight. That mix of anticipation and disappointment reminded him of the time in Jincheng when he had spent a month away on military recruitment duties, hurrying back as soon as he finished, eager to see her. Back then, Lu Zhuo hadn’t even fully understood his own feelings, yet he had felt the sting of not finding her upon his return. Now…
“Has the princess moved back to the princess’s residence?” Lu Zhuo suddenly asked, recalling his daughter’s words—that her mother had gone to visit the elderly lady and had brought her over. She had brought her over, not left her at home.
When Lu Zhuo and his father arrived at the border, they had stayed for a day at the garrison commander’s residence. There, they learned from the commander about the events that had unfolded after the battle at Iron Scorpion Ridge. Thus, Lu Zhuo came to know that Wei Rao had rushed to the battlefield for him, led a search party to Iron Scorpion Ridge to recover his body, rescued his second brother, exposed Han Liao and his father, and been granted the title of princess.
As for the finer details, the garrison commander had no way of knowing and did not elaborate, but Lu Zhuo could imagine how deeply Wei Rao must have suffered upon first hearing the tragic news.
A Gui and the Zhao brothers exchanged glances, unsure how to respond, and murmured an uneasy affirmation.
The princess had indeed moved back to the princess’s residence, but not for a temporary stay—she had reclaimed her freedom.
Lu Zhuo interpreted the complexity in their expressions as their fear that he would be displeased to discover Wei Rao had moved out.
How could Lu Zhuo be upset over such a thing?
He understood Wei Rao—her nature was free-spirited and unrestrained. Even when he was in the capital, she would move to her own residence during the summers to enjoy herself and escape the heat. In the three years of his absence, staying in the empty Hall of Pine and Moon would only have deepened her sorrow. Moving to the princess’s residence would have brought her some solace.
Lu Zhuo understood.
After bathing, Lu Zhuo prepared to enter the palace. He instructed Zhao Song, “Go to the Secluded Manor and inform the princess.”
He did not know how long his audience at the palace would take, and Lu Zhuo could not wait. He wanted to see Wei Rao the moment he returned.
While Lu Zhuo hurried to join his father, Zhao Song galloped out of the city gate without delay. As one of his master’s close attendants, he knew the depth of his master’s feelings for the princess. For three years, everyone had believed the master dead, and the princess, having endured loneliness for too long, had considered remarrying. Now that the master had returned, the princess would surely be overjoyed and would return to his side.
Lu Zhuo and Lu Mu entered the palace with the Duke of Yingguo.
Meanwhile, Zhao Song encountered the princess and Li Wei walking side by side on the outskirts of the city.
Seeing Zhao Song’s hurried appearance, Wei Rao’s first thought was of her daughter. Frowning, she asked, “Has something happened to the princess?”
Zhao Song shook his head, dismounted, and knelt on one knee before her, his face beaming with joy. “Your Highness, the Young Lord and the elder master have returned! During the battle at Iron Scorpion Ridge, the Young Lord fell from a cliff, gravely injured. He exchanged clothes with a Wuda soldier and feigned death to escape. Due to his leg injury, he lived in seclusion for three years. Once his leg healed, he hurried back and happened to meet the elder master, who had been imprisoned in Beihai for over twenty years and finally found a chance to escape…”This was the story Lu Zhuo and his father had agreed upon—mostly true, except they changed it to being trapped in separate locations to prevent the news from reaching Wuda and arousing suspicion toward Longbu’s family.
Zhao Song knew the princess would ask, so he spoke at length without pause.
But Wei Rao only registered one thing: Lu Zhuo had returned. He was alive.
The wind had picked up at some point, blowing directly into Wei Rao’s face. Memories of the past drifted through her mind like fleeting clouds. Just as she tightened her grip on the reins, ready to gallop back to the city to see him, a white horse beside her shifted its front hooves in her peripheral vision.
Wei Rao turned her head and saw Li Wei’s conflicted expression.
It was like being in a dream, only to be abruptly awakened and brought back to reality.
Looking at Li Wei’s handsome yet troubled face, Wei Rao suddenly laughed—a laugh at the whims of fate.
She had thought of Lu Zhuo for three years. Today, she had wanted to test whether another man could stir her heart. Yet, even on this journey, thoughts of Lu Zhuo had intruded. And now, of all times—after she had met a group of noble sons, and on the very day she had flaunted her outing with Li Wei outside the city—Lu Zhuo had returned.
Wei Rao did not regret the meetings of the past few months, nor did she regret today’s excursion with Li Wei. After all, Lu Zhuo had been dead for three years. Out of sheer boredom, those meetings had provided her and her daughter with amusement. And yesterday, meeting Li Wei had brightened her spirits.
By now, everyone in the capital believed she had long moved on from the grief of widowhood, that she had forgotten Lu Zhuo and was happily preparing to remarry. Lu Zhuo had just returned; he didn’t know yet. But by tonight, at the latest, he would learn everything. When that happened, would he still want to see his “fickle” former wife?
Probably not.
Whose fault was it?
Lu Zhuo’s, for feigning death for three years? But he hadn’t wanted to either.
Wei Rao’s, for not remaining devoted to him?
But it was Lu Zhuo who had abandoned her and their daughter first! He had his brotherhood and national duty to uphold, but Wei Rao had done nothing wrong by him! Perhaps he had thought of her day and night during those three years of feigned death, but what Wei Rao endured was not just overwhelming longing—it was the agony of separation by life and death. She had watched other couples share affection, watched her daughter envy other children who had both parents, while only the two of them—one without a man, the other without a father!
Wei Rao felt no regret at all.
If Lu Zhuo wanted to blame her, so be it.
“Understood. Then let the young mistress stay at the Duke’s Manor for a few more days. Whenever she wishes to return, you may escort her back to the Princess Manor,” Wei Rao said with a light smile. Having spoken, she walked past Zhao Song and continued leisurely toward the capital as if nothing had happened.
Zhao Song was stunned.
Li Wei also watched Wei Rao’s retreating figure in surprise.
Upon hearing that Lu Zhuo had returned alive, Li Wei had assumed he stood no chance. But Wei Rao’s attitude—why did it seem as though she cared nothing for Lu Zhuo?
Li Wei caught up to her. “Princess, now that Lu Zhuo has returned to the capital, will you rekindle your relationship with him?”
At this point, Li Wei spoke his mind freely.
Wei Rao smiled and asked him, “If you were in his place, what would you think right now?”
Li Wei was taken aback, then quickly understood.Yes, he knew the princess currently had no feelings for him, but those who had seen him accompanying the princess didn't. Once the gossip reached Lu Zhuo's ears, would he possess such magnanimity? Especially with the contrast of Lu Zhuo's mother—one who remained devoted for over twenty years after her husband's "death," while the other moved to the princess' residence less than a year after her husband's "death" and formally returned home after three years, beginning an endless parade of suitors...
If Li Wei were Lu Zhuo, he would never forgive such a wife.
But Li Wei wasn't Lu Zhuo. Wei Rao's indifference toward Lu Zhuo and Lu Zhuo's resentment toward Wei Rao created the perfect opportunity for him.
"Does Your Highness still honor our Lantern Festival viewing appointment?" Li Wei asked.
Wei Rao glanced at the sky and replied lightly, "That evening, the princess and I will be viewing the lanterns. Whether the third young master joins us is entirely up to you."
Wei Rao returned directly to the princess' residence.
At the palace, Lu Zhuo and his father Lu Mu met with Emperor Yuanjia and revealed the true circumstances of their escape. They had gained freedom in September, but their journey to the border required passing through General Xiuji's territory. At that time, Lu Zhuo didn't know the Han family had fallen, but he firmly believed his second brother's ambush was connected to them. Capturing Xiuji might expose Han Liao and his father.
So father and son secretly infiltrated Xiuji's ranks, captured him during a hunt, and brought him back to the capital.
"Your Majesty, thanks to Longbu's daring rescue, we were reunited and able to return to the capital. The cover story we've spread is to avoid implicating his family. We beg Your Majesty's understanding."
Lu Zhuo and his father kowtowed.
Emperor Yuanjia understood that the return of Lu Zhuo and Lu Mu was a blessing for Great Qi. Their safe return was all that mattered; the details were insignificant.
The emperor held mere appreciation for Lu Zhuo as a junior official. He and Lu Mu were of the same generation—it was the young Emperor Yuanjia who had seen Lu Mu off at the city gates when he departed with his troops.
Seeing Lu Mu again filled the emperor with emotion. Ruler and subject embraced, tears glistening in their eyes.
"I have failed Your Majesty's high expectations," Lu Mu said with deep shame. He had considered death but couldn't accept it—he wanted to live, to return to his homeland.
The emperor gripped his shoulders, eyes reddened. "The northern seas are bitterly cold, and Wuda's torment couldn't shake your loyalty. How could you speak of failure? Your return is like regaining a severed limb—the entire nation shall celebrate!"
As ruler and subject reminisced, officials who heard the news arrived to praise Lu Mu's steadfastness.
With night falling, Emperor Yuanjia decreed a palace banquet for the next day to celebrate the return of Lu Zhuo and his father.
Only then did the three generations of the Lu family leave the palace.
Emperor Yuanjia went to see Little Zhou, expecting her to rejoice in her son-in-law's return, but found she had clearly been crying.
"Are you afraid Shoucheng will blame Raorao?" the emperor guessed after a moment's thought.
Little Zhou remained silent, her sorrowful gaze fixed beyond the window.
She was happy for her daughter, yet pained for her. Everyone recognized Lu Zhuo's hardships, but who understood her daughter's suffering? When men remarried after losing their wives, no one accused them of heartlessness. But women? Unless they remained widowed forever, they were deemed restless and promiscuous.
Lu Zhuo returned to the Duke's Manor.
The entire Lu family gathered—except for Wei Rao.
His searching gaze for Wei Rao twisted the Duchess of Yingguo's heart.
She called Lu Zhuo into the study.
Lu Zhuo kept his eyes lowered. He could guess what was coming.
What woman raised by Shou An Jun would remain a young widow for anyone?During his time on the grasslands, when his legs were immobile, Lu Zhuo had indeed considered this possibility. However, he had believed Wei Rao was different toward him. He thought that after all they had been through together, even if he were to die, Wei Rao would, like his mother, keep only him in her heart for the rest of her life.
Especially when Lu Zhuo heard from the border garrison commander about all that Wei Rao had done for him, he became even more convinced that she must be waiting for him.
"Shoucheng, don’t blame Raorao. It was your father and I who didn’t want to hold her back. We were the ones who first urged her to remarry," the Duchess of Yingguo said, her eyes reddening as she watched her eldest grandson’s face grow colder. "Raorao has done so much for you—how could you not be in her heart? Shoucheng, listen to your grandmother. Go find Raorao, and she will surely come back."
Lu Zhuo felt like laughing.
Perhaps his grandmother and mother had spoken first, but if Wei Rao had truly wanted to remain faithful to him, she would not have agreed. In fact, his grandmother and mother might have urged her only because they had sensed that Wei Rao no longer wished to wait.
"Grandmother, it’s time for the banquet. Let’s go," Lu Zhuo said, lifting his head and resuming his usual gentle demeanor.
Yet the Duchess of Yingguo felt like crying.
Lu Zhuo gave his grandmother no further chance to persuade him.
He attended the banquet, with A Bao seated beside him. Having just been reunited with her father, A Bao was overjoyed that evening.
"Daddy, tomorrow I’ll take you to see Mother," A Bao said sleepily, rubbing her eyes sweetly before bed.
Lu Zhuo smiled, stroking his daughter’s soft hair. "Sleep now. We’ll talk about tomorrow when it comes."
Exhausted from playing all day, A Bao fell asleep quickly.
Lu Zhuo returned to the front courtyard and first summoned Zhao Song to ask about the situation when he had gone to find Wei Rao during the day.
Zhao Song was reluctant to speak, but the matter could not be hidden. If the young master inquired a little, he would find out.
Zhao Song knelt and recounted everything in detail.
Lu Zhuo dismissed him and called A Gui in.
He asked A Gui for all the news about the princess over the past three years.
A Gui was equally unwilling to speak. The princess enjoyed having fun and took pleasure in keeping the young mistress happy, but the young master might not be pleased to hear it.
Still, A Gui told him everything—things that could not be concealed, including the fact that over the past few months, the princess had been meeting with promising young talents in the capital.
"Leave."
A Gui did not dare to raise his head, bowing as he retreated.
The room was unlit. In the middle of the twelfth lunar month, the full moon hung in the sky, its cold, clear light falling upon the man’s even colder face.
Lu Zhuo sat by the window all night.
At the princess’s residence, Wei Rao lay wrapped in a cloak on the slightly slanted roof. The wind was chilly, but the cold could soothe her restless heart. Her eyes fixed on the moon in the sky, she gazed at it all night.
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