Throughout her years of wandering with the army, Xiao Nanhui had beheld many a magnificent sight.
The Subei Camp was mostly stationed along the northern frontier—a desolate land of rolling snow-capped mountains and silent, sapphire lakes. It possessed every manner of grand, sweeping vista imaginable, and she had seen them thousands, if not tens of thousands, of times. Aside from the great ocean, which she had yet to encounter, she believed there was no scenery left that could truly leave her in awe.
That was until a few months ago when, by the grace of Governor Sun, she had visited the legendary Biemeng Grotto.
That night, her attention had been fixed on Governor Sun, Pan Mei’er, and the bride-to-be, Tian Wei’er, who was about to be wed to a wolf. She hadn't spared many glances for the surrounding scenery, yet the impression it left was profound. She remembered the ethereal reds and purples upon the rock walls, swirling together in layers that meandered across the ceiling and floor. Those were no marks of human craft or pigment, but the result of eons of accumulated wind and sand.
From the primordial age to the present day, such immortal beauty was wrought by Heaven alone.
The ancients revered scenery that was *hunran tiancheng*—naturally formed—believing only such things were eternal. She shared that sentiment. Yet, if within such a heavenly landscape there lay the handiwork of a transcendent mortal, who would dare say it could not rival the majesty of the natural world?
Legend told of a mad painter born with eyes that could perceive the most exquisite things in existence. The men and women in his paintings seemed ready to step off the silk, their passions and sorrows so vivid that a single backward glance from a subject could steal one's soul. His landscapes were so natural that viewing them felt like boarding a boat or carriage to enter the scene itself. Yet he was not satisfied with the beauties and vistas of the mortal realm; his lifelong yearning was to behold the countenance of the gods.
He petitioned the divine, vowing that if he could but glimpse the jade palaces above the nine heavens and hear the tales of gods and demons that no mortal could pen, he would willingly sacrifice half a lifetime of light.
At last, his prayer was heard by a passing deity. The god granted his wish, taking him to the divine realm for three days and three nights. Then, as agreed, the god took the eyes that had held the greatest beauties of the mortal world.
Upon returning to the realm of men, the painter was overcome with excitement. He told everyone he met of what he had seen and heard in the heavens, but no one believed his wild tales. They all thought he had simply gone mad from his blindness.
Gradually, the painter fell silent. He converted his life's fortune into gold and gemstones and vanished with his wealth into the uninhabited Great Desert. Some said he died of thirst and hunger amidst the yellow sands; others said he was set upon by bandits as soon as he entered the wastes, losing both his life and his riches. Still others claimed he had reached the promised land of his dreams, where he used imperishable gold to paint all he had witnessed in the heavens.
Xiao Nanhui had stumbled upon this story in a pile of miscellaneous items in Yao Yi’s small storage room, read from the pages of an old book.
Such legends were mostly ethereal and vague, lacking even a proper name or place to facilitate investigation. She didn't particularly care for these tales of spirits and ghosts; she read them merely for amusement. Yet now, she often found herself plagued by various doubts, and she frequently felt that the answers to those doubts might lie within those very legends—it was only that the world refused to believe, choosing instead to treat them as mere diversions.
Take the present moment, for instance: because of that legend, she had realized something.
The geography of the Colored Hills was highly peculiar—so peculiar that she had only seen similar rock walls in one other place: Governor Sun’s Biemeng Grotto.
Calling it "Governor Sun’s Biemeng Grotto" was actually somewhat inappropriate. After all, he was merely a squatter in a stolen nest. The grotto likely didn't even bear that name; he had simply found some pedantic poetry and forced the association.
But who would have thought that the Biemeng Grotto was located right here in this ancient place called the Colored Hills?
Xiao Nanhui led the Emperor carefully through the small hills. It had been dark when she attended the banquet that night, and she only vaguely remembered a large patch of sheepgrass near the cave entrance—she wondered if Governor Sun had ordered it planted there.
After searching high and low, she actually managed to find a cave entrance. Thinking she had found the right spot, she rushed inside only to discover it wasn't the Biemeng Grotto she had visited that night, but merely a smaller cave that looked somewhat similar.
Still, it was better than having nowhere to hide. She led the Emperor into the depths of the cavern.
Without the glow of candlelight, the interior was dim and murky. Only a few shafts of light filtered through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating mere patches of ground. Before long, the sunlight would fail to reach inside, and the place would be plunged into darkness.
Aside from needing to make torches for light, the most urgent priority remained food and water.
The scene of Governor Sun’s banquet for hundreds felt like it was only yesterday. If she just lifted her head, she could almost see the fat gentleman who had sat before her and the few stray hairs atop his head. Thinking of the tables laden with fine delicacies and wine, and the aroma of food that had filled the air, she felt she had to try her luck no matter what. Although three months had passed since that banquet, she knew Governor Sun’s nature—he was a turtle guarding a mountain of gold. There were bound to be supplies left in this territory.
She could feel a faint draft, which perhaps proved that these caves, large and small, were naturally interconnected. The one she had entered wasn't the Biemeng Grotto, but it might not be far off. The familiar-looking murals on the walls were the best evidence.
Feeling encouraged, she urged the Emperor not to wander off, then gripped her spear, Pingxian, and ventured further into the cave system.
The caverns gathered sound; sometimes even a slight noise would create significant ripples that echoed for a long time. She walked trepidatiously, frequently stopping to listen for a good while before daring to move forward.
As the sun dipped westward, the light inside the cave grew dimmer. She couldn't bring herself to use her last scrap of cloth to make a torch, so she had to feel her way forward in the dark. Finally, she reached a wide, open chamber. The rock walls bore obvious signs of human excavation—grooves that seemed intended for torches, left unfinished.
Fortunately, there were plenty of torches here. She lit one and looked around, finding several broken wooden crates half-buried in the sand in a corner. Without much hope, Xiao Nanhui used her spearhead to pry open a few boards. When she looked inside, her eyes widened.
A whole crate, filled with solid gold and silver.
She swallowed hard, her first thought being of Yao Yi. If he were here, he might laugh so hard the cave would collapse. Gold and silver were truly fine things in this world, but right now, they could be neither eaten nor drunk; they were likely less useful than a single crisp head of cabbage.
Unwilling to give up, she marked the spot and moved on to another connected chamber.
In every cave she reached, she opened a crate to check. The contents were all similar: if not gold and silver jewelry, then rare curios and antiques. Cave after cave was stuffed with his hoarded treasures, as if to fill Governor Sun’s insatiable stomach. Those items glittered amidst the yellow sand, a silent indictment of their master’s years of villainy.
After traversing about a dozen caves, she was quite exhausted. It was only in a small hall at the very end that she discovered some shattered ceramic jars. This might have been a temporary food storage area; it was small in scale and held very few items.
With great anticipation, she opened a few that were still relatively intact. Inside were only some stale millet and huskbuns. She popped a few grains into her mouth to taste them but felt there was a risk of poisoning. She reached for the huskbuns, but they turned to ash the moment she touched them.
This was the fault of Suyan’s climate. In the dry, cold winter, any food left in the air for a month would become a "mummified corpse."
Clinging to a final shred of hope, she found some dried fruits in the last jar. They looked edible enough, so she didn't dither, dumping them all into her cloth bag. She also gathered some wooden sticks originally intended for tools to use as firewood. Before leaving, she grabbed a jar of fruit wine from the corner, finally departing with lingering reluctance.
The surroundings were now pitch black. She held her torch high, retracing her steps, and found the man sitting in the darkness. He was almost exactly as she had left him, having not moved an inch.
"You're back."
He stood up and stepped aside. Only then did Xiao Nanhui see that the scattered stones on the ground had been neatly arranged. He had imitated her previous actions, building a fire pit.
She was quite surprised and intrigued. Stepping closer to look, she praised him sincerely, "Your Majesty’s handiwork isn't bad at all."
He turned away composedly, his expression very calm. "It is passable."
She didn't look at him further, quickly starting the fire. Then, she pulled the items out of her cloth bag one by one, a touch of pride on her face as if she were counting her family treasures.
"This string of grapes was brought from Tong City. I tasted them that day; the flavor was excellent. Though they're raisins now, they should still taste fine. And this honey melon—the outer flesh is inedible, but the seeds inside can be roasted and eaten; they're similar to chestnuts. And this..."
She reported her spoils incessantly, and the man watched her quietly by the firelight, without the slightest hint of impatience.
Taking out the last item, she said by way of summary, "That old wretch Governor Sun is a *pixiu* who only takes in and never lets out. He hoarded so much gold and silver, yet wouldn't even leave us a single whole bun. It's truly infuriating. Still, though there isn't much of substance, we can last a day or two on this. These are all sweet; eating them will give you strength."
"Officer Xiao is most capable."
She was in the middle of her lament and was caught off guard by this sudden praise. Remembering that she had also praised him earlier, she felt the atmosphere between them grow even more awkward. Her face flushed, and she quickly changed the subject. "The water vats were all dry. I only found this."
She placed the wine jar from her waist on the ground and spread out the sheep's wool felt she had scavenged.
The man glanced at the jar and asked tonelessly, "Is it wine?"
Xiao Nanhui nodded. She poured two silver cups she had pilfered and pushed one toward him.
The man looked at the clear, purplish-red liquid in the silver cup but did not move. "I do not drink."
She paused, somewhat puzzled. "Is it that Your Majesty dislikes wine, or that you cannot drink? Right now, there is nothing else to quench our thirst."
He didn't answer immediately, appearing to think carefully about this simple question. Finally, he replied, "I cannot. At least, not now."
*Fine, it’s not like you haven’t been strange for a day or two.*
Under normal circumstances, she might have probed for the reason, but right now she truly lacked the energy to speak. Xiao Nanhui sighed, poured his cup into hers, and drained it in one gulp.
The fruit wine, having been evaporated by Suyan’s dry air for months, was sour and astringent with a strange fragrance. It wasn't refreshing; instead, it had an oily quality that coated the mouth.
"Is it unpleasant?"
She shook her head. "It’s not good."
Compared to the Yunye Xian at Yao Yi’s place, it was far inferior. Thinking of Yao Yi and the Yunye Xian, she couldn't help but think of Que City, the Marquis’s Manor, and Xiao Zhun.
With a sigh, she poured herself another cup.
However, wine could not be judged by its "appearance." The taste of this fruit wine was mediocre, but its potency was quite heady. After a few cups, she began to feel a slight buzz. She sat cross-legged, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at the mottled, peeling murals on the rock walls. The flickering, broken figures seemed to come alive under the glow of the campfire.
"What does Your Majesty think of the paintings on these walls?"
Suan Wei glanced at her, then cast his gaze around.
"As if they cannot be grasped, yet as if they might be heard. The brushwork is refined, the technique natural."
She nodded randomly, not quite understanding but knowing it was praise. She tilted her head and studied them closely. Back at the Biemeng Grotto, she had only caught a fleeting glimpse of the paintings. At the time, she thought the figures were strangely dressed—some nearly naked—and assumed they were erotic scenes for entertainment. Looking closely now, the style was indeed different from the vulgar, common methods; there was some rather puzzling content within.
For instance, the man on the left side of the mural was riding the clouds with his hair loose and his eyes tightly shut, looking half-blind.
"What kind of figures are depicted in these murals? Why do they look so strange?"
"Those are not people; they are gods," the man’s cool voice rang out in the grotto, stirring a low echo. "Legend says that in ancient times, gods would descend to the mortal realm. Sometimes they would borrow a mortal shell, a process called 'God-Descent.' This painting depicts the descent of the Wind God."
Xiao Nanhui leaned in to look at the painting. Though the ancient pigments made of ground gold would not fade, they had begun to peel over years of wind and sand. Most of the inlaid pearls and gemstones had fallen out, yet one could still see the profound intent the artist had carved into the figures.
"But in this painting, there seem to be two identical gods. One has his eyes open, the other has them closed. One treads on clouds, the other on flames."
The man slowly closed his eyes. "Because in the legends, the Wind God eventually became a demon."
Became a demon?
But if he became a demon, why depict two separate images? It was as if the artist didn't know whether he was a god or a demon. Ancient murals mostly extolled kindness and righteousness while criticizing evil and depravity; such a balanced, neutral depiction of the conflict between good and evil was rare.
After a pause, she had another question.
"Where did Your Majesty hear these legends of gods and spirits?"
"From my mother." When he said this, a rare look of loneliness appeared on his face. It was as if distant memories were surging up, coloring his emotions. "She often said that history is not always the truth, and legends are not always falsehoods."
This was the second time he had mentioned his mother. In truth, that beautiful woman was like a figure living in legend; even the historical records only contained a few brief lines about her. This was because the world believed she was a mad, sinister, and ill-omened person.
She remembered what he had once said to her: *The one who is mad is not my mother, but me.*
Though she still didn't quite understand what he meant by that, she worried she had inadvertently touched upon a painful subject. She deliberately changed the topic.
"Your Majesty built this fire pit very well. I once taught a fat fellow from Lingxi how to do this, but after several days, he could still only manage a crooked bird's nest."
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Setting aside how absurd it was to praise an Emperor for his skill in building fire pits, she must have had sand in her brain to compare him to that fat Wu Xiaoliu.
Yet before she could take it back, the man picked up the thread of her conversation.
"There is one thing I have always done poorly."
She quickly followed the opening. "What is that?"
"Pinning hair."
The wound on his left hand was scabbing over, making his movements appear slow and deliberate. When his hand emerged from his robes, there was something in his palm.
A jade hairpin.
"I must ask Officer Xiao to pin my hair."
Xiao Nanhui took the jade hairpin, stunned.
It was her hairpin. The one she had accidentally dropped when she sneaked into his tent that day. And the half-piece of the archer's ring pendant she had swiped from his tent was currently tucked into the waistband of her inner tunic.
She felt she should ask something, but the words wouldn't come.
She rubbed the hairpin—which was utterly ordinary in both style and quality—with her fingers, while her other hand carefully reached through the long hair on his shoulders. She had no comb, so she used her fingers as teeth, carefully smoothing the strands, then gathering them into bunches to pin them high.
Despite the hardships of the past few days, his soft, dark hair showed no signs of damage; it was merely dusted with a bit of grime. Once she lightly brushed it away, it regained its former luster.
People often sang of the warmth and gentleness of jade, but forgot its hardness. It was so indestructible that ordinary sand and gravel could never hope to leave a scratch on its smooth surface. Just as some people were destined to never let anyone or anything leave a mark upon their hearts.
But she was not like that.
She was merely an insignificant grain of sand in this northwestern desert; no one would remember where she fell with the wind. Even if the fortune of three lifetimes allowed her to be carefully placed in a bottle and taken home, she would still worry day and night: when the wind rose one day, she would eventually have to leave.
And if she left forever, how many people would miss her?
Perhaps the half-jar of wine was acting up in her stomach, for Xiao Nanhui’s emotions surged for a moment. Her vision blurred, and she could only hurriedly secure the hairpin. The jade pin sat there quietly; though it was of the most common design, on his head, it looked like a phoenix perched upon a branch.
She withdrew her hand and reached for the remaining wine. A coarse stone jar and low-quality, pungent liquor were what truly suited her.
The light in her eyes gradually dimmed. She thought of Tian Wei’er and Young Master Jia, whom she had watched walk into the desert that day. Were they as distressed then as she was now? Were they, like her, facing the possibility of death at any moment?
But they had each other. Even if they both met with disaster the next instant, their lives would not be filled with as many regrets as hers.
"Your Majesty, I don't want to die here yet. I still have so many, many things left to do. I have ten jars of Yunye Xian stored at Xiaofu Inn that I haven't collected. I still have a thirty percent stake in Yao Yi’s shop. That bastard Hao Bai hasn't returned Hua Qiu to me yet. I promised Bo Lao I’d take her to Sea City to see the Boyu Sea, and I said I’d use my new salary to buy a new hairpin for Auntie Dai. Uncle Chen and Sister Du Juan are still waiting for me to return. I haven't seen my adoptive father yet. I haven't told him..."
*I haven't told him: I love you.*
She couldn't go on. Her mouth remained half-open, but no sound came out because of the stinging in her nose and throat.
If she were shot by an arrow on the battlefield or had her head taken off by a blade, she probably wouldn't have time to dwell on these painful "ifs." But this time spent waiting for death was being stretched out infinitely, causing many attachments to spring up out of nowhere.
Only twenty years of her life had passed. During those twenty years, she had spent every moment convincing herself to be content and grateful, so she never dared to hope for much. She knew some things never belonged to her, and pursuing what wasn't hers would only lead to unhappiness.
But at this very moment, as her brief life faced its end, she was still sad.
What if... what if she actually deserved better? What if the answers to certain questions weren't what she thought? Yet her own humility and cowardice had caused her to miss those answers. If she died today amidst these yellow sands, she would never know.
She would never know if she truly held a place in a certain person's heart.
"Are you finished?"
The man’s voice rang out suddenly, sounding even raspier than usual. Then, he slowly raised his left hand and touched the bun on his head, letting out something like a sigh.
"This skill in pinning hair is truly a bit meager."
He hadn't drunk water in a long time, but aside from the raspiness, she could hear no fatigue or pain in his voice.
Xiao Nanhui’s train of thought was snapped. She sniffled, not daring to speak. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would let out an ugly, sobbing sound, which would not only be embarrassing but also make her seem excessively sentimental.
"Those are not matters of great consequence. After returning to Que City, you may do them one by one."
Having said this, he turned around, using his body to block the wind blowing in from the cave entrance.
The small cluster of flames in the fire pit seemed to come alive again, struggling tenaciously to maintain the last bit of light and warmth.
The tears that had been welling in Xiao Nanhui’s eyes for so long finally fell. The tears hit the dry, cold stone with a *patter*, evaporating without a trace in a moment, as if she had never cried at all.
Her moment of fragility would never be known by anyone in this world, save for him.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
浑然天成 | Hunran tiancheng | Naturally formed; of one piece with nature; self-perfected.
别梦窟 | Biemeng Grotto | "Cave of Parting Dreams."
宿岩 | Suyan | A geographical location/region.
色丘 | Colored Hills | Also "Chromatic Hills."
貔貅 | Pixiu | A mythical creature that hoards wealth and has no anus (symbolizing wealth that comes in but never goes out).
云叶鲜 | Yunye Xian | A specific brand or type of fine wine.
小福居 | Xiaofu Inn | A place name (likely a tavern or lodging).
花虬 | Hua Qiu | Likely the name of a horse.
伯劳 | Bo Lao | A character name.
海城 | Sea City | A place name.
泊玉海 | Boyu Sea | A place name (literally "Anchored Jade Sea").
黛姨 | Auntie Dai | A character name.
陈叔 | Uncle Chen | A character name.
杜鹃姐 | Sister Du Juan | A character name.
簪发 | Pinning hair | The act of securing hair with a hairpin.
降神 | God-Descent | The act of a deity descending into a mortal vessel.
