On the twenty-fourth day of the third month in the sixteenth year of the Tiancheng Lingwei era, as late spring waned and early summer had yet to bloom, the Emperor led a procession of over a thousand officials and lords to Yu’an for the Spring Hunt.
The hunt, known as the *Sou*, served a dual purpose. It was both a display of imperial leisure—celebrating the joys of riding and archery—and a formal inspection of the military, a time to sharpen spears and review the ranks.
In years past, the Spring Hunt was essentially a reward bestowed by the Emperor upon his civil and military officials, allowing them to bring their families along. However, ever since the tragedy that befell the Xiao family years ago, many had grown wary. Nowadays, few were willing to bring their households to the event.
Those who remained were those who had no choice but to go.
Aside from Xiao Nanhui, Xiao Zhun’s name was naturally on the roster for the journey.
She wondered what he felt, knowing he had to return to that place of nightmares. Did he ever think of completely uncovering the blood-soaked truth of the past? Or had he, after years of agonizing torment, seen through it all and chosen only to lick his wounds in solitude for the rest of his life?
Xiao Nanhui would never know the answer to any of this.
It had been a long time since she had seen Xiao Zhun return to the manor for dinner. He often stayed at the Subei Great Camp or remained out on night patrols. Yet now that the wars had largely subsided, night patrols were hardly the duty of a Great General.
The Marquis’s Manor had always been sparsely populated, yet it once possessed its own warmth. Now, it truly felt as though it were falling into ruin.
Every evening, when she went to add oil to the everlasting lamp in the corridor, Xiao Nanhui would fall into a daze, feeling as though this lonely, empty courtyard was also burning through its final wick. Something had been hollowed out from within, leaving the last bits of light and heat to dissipate into the wind.
She thought she could guess what that "something" was.
Bai Yun was still imprisoned in the deepest part of Jingbo Tower. And perhaps Xiao Zhun’s heart had been locked away in that darkness alongside her.
It was a heart she had never been able to draw close to, nor one she had ever truly understood.
In the past, she could use her Subei waist token to enter the camp and see him. But even then, she mostly stood at a distance, watching from a place where he could be seen, hesitating for a long time as she searched for a reason to step forward and say a word.
Now, she was no longer a member of the Subei Camp; she no longer had a standing to offer those high-sounding excuses.
Would there come a day in the future when she would lose even the standing to light an everlasting lamp for him at night?
Xiao Nanhui felt the answer was a certain "yes."
The cruelty and irresistibility of passing time lay precisely in this.
Mountains may be leveled, and seas may turn to dust.
The warmth and coldness of human relationships were but fleeting moments. Like the waters of a hundred rivers racing away, they could never be held back.
In the past, she never would have pondered such things, always feeling that many questions simply had no answers. But over the last few months, the answers she had never chased had popped up one after another.
Facing the people and things she had once cared about, she finally felt a sense of release and equanimity.
Regardless, she had to go to the Spring Hunt, and since Yu’an was the site of the original incident, this trip might provide a legitimate way to investigate. It might even aid her current inquiries, so why not go gladly?
Once she had made up her mind, Xiao Nanhui immediately went to ask Dujuan. Since there were many vacancies in the carriages following the hunt, she asked if Dujuan would like to come along to clear her head.
Dujuan was born and raised in Quecheng. The thresholds she had crossed most in her life were the west side gate of the Marquis’s Manor and the tea shops and fabric stores of Xinglong Street. The farthest she had ever been was Dacheng Temple outside the west city gate, and even that was several years ago.
It wasn't that Dujuan hadn't thought about seeing the world; her personality was naturally lively. Xiao Nanhui used to mention it often: one day, she would take Dujuan to Jizhou to see the sands of her birthplace. Every time, Dujuan would laugh and scold her for having no ambition—why take her to see sand instead of beautiful mountains and rivers? Yet even as she voiced her disdain, she couldn't help but ask: was there really that much sand, and were there really many camels in the midst of it?
Xiao Nanhui felt that Dujuan did want to see the outside world.
Even though Yu’an wasn't very far from Quecheng, it possessed vast woodlands and grasslands that weren't found here.
Dujuan was tempted. Having never traveled far, she didn't know what to pack, so she pulled out every jacket and coat from the bottom of her chests. She spent three days and nights trying them on with an irrepressible smile, only to suddenly change her mind on the third day: she wasn't going.
Xiao Nanhui was puzzled, but after seeing Dujuan visit Aunt Dai’s courtyard much more frequently than usual, she gradually understood.
In previous years, when the weather turned warm, Aunt Dai could sunbathe in the courtyard or sit on the swing by herself. But for some reason this year, she still couldn't get out of bed even after the Grain Rain had passed. Even two doses of Crimson Throat Pearls had lost their efficacy.
Regarding this, Dujuan maintained her sharp and capable demeanor, cursing that profiteer Yao Yi for perhaps sending fake medicine while keeping everything in perfect order.
But occasionally, a shadow of worry would flicker in Dujuan’s eyes. Aunt Dai’s health was declining day by day. She might last through this spring and summer, but it was uncertain if she would see another autumn or winter.
If Aunt Dai’s illness worsened, she would need someone by her side constantly. Uncle Chen was a man, after all, which made things inconvenient, and they were wary of bringing in an outsider.
Dujuan couldn't leave Aunt Dai, so she ultimately decided to stay home.
On the day of departure, Dujuan stuffed a massive bundle into Xiao Nanhui’s hands. As usual, it contained clothes, food, and daily necessities—there was even enough wound medicine and tonics to last her half a year. Xiao Nanhui felt the bundle likely contained enough for two people.
But Dujuan didn't know that since the incident at Prince Xuanyuan’s manor, Bo Lao had not appeared in the manor again, nor had he met with Xiao Nanhui. She suspected it was because he was trying to avoid Zong Hao.
The Spring Hunt would only last half a month anyway; whether Bo Lao followed or not didn't seem to matter much.
Before leaving, she made a detour to Yanfu Street. On one hand, she wanted to "unload" the things Dujuan had given her at Wangchen Tower; on the other, she wanted to check on Yao Yi and Wu Xiaoliu.
This was a habit she had formed over the years: before going to war or on a long journey, she had to visit a few close friends. Whether there was much to say or not, they would chat for a bit, and finally, she would solemnly drink a cup of wine to say goodbye, just in case she never returned, leaving no regrets in her heart.
At first, everyone was genuinely emotional, often ending up in tears as if it truly were a final parting. As time went on and the routine had been repeated too many times, they had all become quite perfunctory about it.
The end of the third month was the height of spring. People’s hearts were restless with the season, and business at Wangchen Tower was booming. Yao Yi was buried in his abacus and ledgers, having no desire to pay Xiao Nanhui any mind. He simply called Wu Xiaoliu out to exchange a few words and, at the end, sent someone to give her a small, stuffed hemp sack.
Xiao Nanhui took it with a grin and hung it on the side of her saddle. Jixiang gave a cheerful snort and trotted toward Dingmen Gate at the east of the city. The horse recognized that little sack; it was filled entirely with dried mushrooms from Beizhi.
The army horses weren't fed poorly, but it was mostly dried wheat straw—nowhere near the quality of the "meals" at the Marquis’s Manor. Although Xiao Nanhui no longer held the title of General of the Right, she wasn't mistreated because of it. The Emperor had not revoked her Black Feather Camp token, and he had inexplicably appointed her to the position of Imperial Chariot Guard of the Right.
The *Che You*, as the name implied, was the warrior who guarded the right side of the Emperor’s chariot, opposite the *Che Zuo*. According to the rule that the left was the position of honor, her current status could only place her on the right.
Truly, after all the circling around, she still couldn't escape this word "Right."
After some thought, Xiao Nanhui felt this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, the chariot guards traveled with the Emperor, so the food and treatment would be much better. Moreover, being so close to the carriage, she could frequently see his figure.
She wondered if this was his intention in making the arrangement.
Perhaps because the events at Prince Xuanyuan’s manor had been so convoluted, she had been having strange dreams for two days straight. In her dreams, she was sometimes seated high in magnificent robes, bathed in golden light; at other times, she was dressed in rags, surrounded by gloomy clouds. The constant was that his face was always interwoven through it all—sometimes with a gentle smile and a flower in hand, the face of a monk or a Buddha; at other times, his brows were frosted with ice, walking the path of a demon or a ghost.
She had fallen for his tricks; even in her dreams, she was weaving stories of being with him.
And now, parting the sea of people, he walked toward her in reality.
When the Emperor traveled for non-military matters, he would always exit through Dingmen Gate in the east. The gate’s passageway was wide and straight; the commoners could watch from a street away, while the civil and military officials had to line up beneath the gate to see off the imperial carriage.
When the hour arrived, the Emperor stepped out from the palanquin, which was shaded by a magnificent canopy and screened by ceremonial fans. He walked across a ten-foot-long brocade carpet before entering the imperial chariot.
There were only ten short steps from the palanquin to the chariot, and as a guard, she happened to be in the place closest to him.
When she knew him as Zhongli Jing, she hadn't been in the mood to properly study his features; after learning he was the Emperor, she hadn't dared to stare so boldly at his face.
This time, hidden among countless upward-looking gazes, she finally had a legitimate reason to take a good look at that face.
As usual, he wore the imperial crown. The twelve tassels of five-colored jade hid their owner’s face behind them, yet in the moment they swayed and chimed together, they revealed a glimpse of his true countenance.
It was a silhouette as smooth and soft as the Buddha statues enshrined in temples. There wasn't a hint of tension or excess on his jade-like face. His brows were dark and elegant, possessing a slight curve that invited one to look deeper. His lips were always pale, yet they inexplicably gave off a sense of restrained brilliance.
Most exquisite of all were those narrow eyes. Usually, they were half-closed, carrying a hint of lethargy and intoxication. But in the moment they opened slightly to look at you, one could see a silent abyss opening within those pitch-black pupils.
In this moment of light, this moment of atmosphere, this very breath, the aura he possessed—like a distant mountain view or a mirror-like cold pool—was infinitely magnified, making one afraid to look directly yet yearning to do so.
He really is beautiful.
Xiao Nanhui thought dazedly, recalling the first time she had met him.
In Yueyuan Town by the Dafeng Ferry, on a night of wind and rain, he had followed behind Ding Weixiang, slowly stepping into that dilapidated inn. The wind brought in a fine drizzle behind him, wetting half of his smoke-colored robe. At that time, she only felt that he was too different from the men she knew, and she had even felt a bit of disdain for his complexion, which was several shades fairer than that of an ordinary woman.
Thinking back now, perhaps she had been biased from the start and had never truly looked at that face.
Most memories in life eventually become blurred; only a few moments can be remembered for a lifetime.
Like this very moment—though it was but a brief glance upward, it was already deeply etched into her heart. Many, many years later, she would still not forget it.
***
