The winter candlelight flickered without the dance of moths or insects, burning with a singular quietude.
The remaining half-bowl of medicinal soup gradually congealed and darkened at the bottom of the coarse ceramic vessel. The resisting woman finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep. Xiao Nanhui stared at the half-bowl of medicine in silence for an hour, sitting motionless until Xiao Zhun’s personal guards came to relieve her. Only then did she walk out of the tent, her mind a dazed blur.
The sky was overcast, with floating clouds veiling the moon.
She suddenly recalled the stories Du Juan used to tell her when she was a child. Back then, Du Juan was just a young girl herself; sometimes, after sneaking a few sips of peach wine diluted with water, she would talk incessantly through the night.
In the few instances Du Juan mentioned the old affairs of the Prince’s manor, this was how she described it:
The year she entered the Prince Shuo’s manor, she was only seven or eight years old. Originally the most inconspicuous of fire-tending maids, she was later moved to the inner courtyard’s small kitchen because she worked efficiently and neatly. It was there she slowly began to hear of the happenings within those high walls and grand courtyards.
Prince Shuo, Xiao Qing, had entered officialdom in his youth but did not begin his life on the battlefield until he was nearly thirty. Yet, within a few short years, he had accumulated countless military achievements and earned the title of Prince. Such a legendary figure was, in private, a somewhat melancholy and silent man. His eldest son, Xiao Heng, resembled his father most—steady, easy-going, and possessed of a compassionate heart. The third son, Xiao Jin, was clever and precocious, showing remarkable poise at a young age. Only the second son, Xiao Zhun, was unlike his father or brothers. He possessed a fierce, unyielding temperament and acted without leaving any room for compromise. His spirit took after his birth mother, who came from a background of reclusive martial artists, carrying a sharp edge that no one could blunt.
Such a person as Xiao Zhun was not popular among the children of the nobility in Quecheng. Coupled with the fact that his mother did not hail from a prominent clan, Xiao Zhun grew up amidst exclusion and malice, becoming more solitary and stubborn than others. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, even a person like Xiao Zhun eventually found a friend. He grew close to the equally eccentric "Young Master" of the Bai family. The two became inseparable, their bond as best friends far exceeding ordinary companionship.
But Du Juan only found out later that there was no "Young Master" in the Bai family at that time. Aside from the eldest and second sons who were nearing their capping ceremonies, Bai Heliu had only a daughter the same age as Xiao Zhun. It was never a good thing for the daughter of a civil official to dress in men’s clothing and associate with the son of a military lineage—especially since the position of Censor-in-Chief was sensitive and prone to trouble. Eventually, that connection vanished like mist, and no one spoke of it again.
The following spring, an unceasing southern wind blew through Chizhou. The air was always thick with a moist, metallic scent, like the smell of the seaside.
Seventeen-year-old Xiao Zhun followed his father, Xiao Qing, and the male relatives of the clan, accompanying the Emperor of that time, Su Yin, to the city of Yuan’an for the spring hunt. On the eve of their departure, Du Juan’s younger brother, who had been bedridden for years, passed away from a lung ailment contracted during the winter. With an elderly mother and no one else at home, Du Juan had to request leave to handle the funeral arrangements. Consequently, her name was struck from the list of attendants for the Xiao family’s spring hunt.
At the time, she did not realize that of that long, seemingly endless caravan, only two people would return half a month later. The clever stable boys, the beautiful head maids of the Lady’s chambers, the gossiping old women in the kitchens—none of them came back. They became mere specks of crimson in the Xiao family’s debt of blood, slowly fading with the passage of time.
Whenever she spoke of the past, Du Juan would often sigh: it was that brother, who had exhausted her earnings and burdened half her life, who ultimately saved her life with his own death.
After sobering up, Du Juan would always warn her with a thousand exhortations: never mention the past regarding the Bai family in front of Xiao Zhun. Xiao Nanhui had agreed to every word, believing that Xiao Zhun must hate them to the core, so she naturally could not bring it up. Later, as Du Juan grew older, she spoke less and less of the Bai family’s "Young Master" and the events at Yuan’an.
But Xiao Nanhui had always remembered. The Bai clan had committed treason and slaughtered the loyal household of Prince Shuo; this was a blood feud that no friendship could blur. Thus, she had never paid any mind to the legendary legitimate daughter of the Bai family, considering her nothing more than an old debt that would eventually be settled.
But now, seeing Xiao Zhun’s attitude toward that woman named Bai, she suddenly felt uncertain.
Could it be that the blood feud Du Juan spoke of was false? Then what had she been struggling for all these years—protecting the country, hoping to one day reclaim lost territory and wash away the shame?
Xiao Nanhui felt she should go to Xiao Zhun and ask him clearly.
But that was Xiao Zhun’s scar. How could she bear to tear it open herself?
Anxiety and suppression crushed her repeatedly. She walked between the marching tents, breathing heavily, trying to exhale the turbid air trapped in her lungs, but she could not.
A figure emerged from a tent ahead—it was Su Pingchuan.
He saw her walking toward him from a distance, yet she seemed to drift right past him as if he weren't there.
"Hey."
Xiao Nanhui stopped and turned around.
Su Pingchuan threw something he was holding at her. "Your thing."
She caught it—a cloth bundle. Opening it, she found the broken Pingxian.
From the moment Xiao Zhun had severed Pingxian, her thoughts and memories had been a chaotic mess. She hardly remembered how she had ended that battle or how she had followed the Northern Army back to camp.
Recalling it now, she couldn't help but feel a bit fortunate that he had collected Pingxian for her.
"Thank you."
This was the weapon Xiao Zhun had forged for her, the weapon she had used since she was fourteen.
The weapon she thought would accompany her for a lifetime.
Her fingers brushed against the break; it was sharp enough to cut skin. Xiao Zhun’s spear technique was as fierce as ever; once he struck, there was no room for retreat.
Su Pingchuan looked at her expression and spoke slowly. "I already took it to the master smiths in the armory. The mechanisms inside this spear shaft are too complex. Once it's broken, there's no point in keeping it. When we return to Quecheng, have someone forge a new one."
Xiao Nanhui acted as if she hadn't heard him, still stroking the broken shaft with lingering affection.
Her palm was so familiar with this temperature and texture. When she picked it up this morning, she never imagined it would be for the last time.
"Hey, did you hear what I said?"
Su Pingchuan prided himself on being aloof and was by no means a meddler. He had acted on a sudden whim of kindness, yet she had been acting like a simpleton since the start, giving him no reaction at all.
"Xiao Nanhui..."
"Yes, I understand," Xiao Nanhui said. Holding the broken spear, she lowered her head and walked away.
Su Pingchuan stood there, his face turning various shades of frustration, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss.
He watched her receding figure. Just as he was about to step forward and chase after her, a voice sounded unexpectedly behind him.
"Where is the General of the Left going?"
Su Pingchuan’s spine stiffened. The other person’s movement and breath control were so masterful that they had approached him without him noticing.
The speaker, however, did not seem to intend to frighten him. He stepped forward to stand beside him, and only then did Su Pingchuan see the newcomer’s face.
It was an ordinary face, the kind that was easily forgotten, but he seemed to be the sword-bearing guard who had been frequently seen around the Emperor lately.
The man seemed to guess his confusion and spoke first. "I am Lieutenant Ding Weixiang of the Yanchi Camp. I have been ordered to summon the General of the Left to the council tent to discuss tomorrow’s departure."
Yanchi Camp?
Strange. This opening line felt like something he had heard... somewhere, a long time ago.
Su Pingchuan stared fixedly at the man’s face again, then shifted his gaze to the tablet at the man’s waist, temporarily suppressing his doubts.
"Understood. I shall head there now."
The two walked one after the other toward the council tent. Ding Weixiang turned his head slightly to glance in the direction Xiao Nanhui had left, letting out a soft sigh.
****** ****** ******
Xiao Nanhui was not good at hiding her thoughts. In front of those close to her, her emotions often had nowhere to hide.
Therefore, since childhood, whenever she encountered something sad or painful, she would run away alone and hide in a corner where no one was around.
Only then would no one ask her about the situation with eyes full of pity.
Only then would she not have to exhaust herself pretending nothing was wrong while she was covered in wounds.
She was not a person without pride; it was just that most of the time, she buried her pride deep within herself.
Just like now, she was going to personally bury the long spear that once represented her dignity.
She asked a logistics soldier for a shovel, shouldered it, and walked far out of the camp. Finding a deserted spot, she began to dig a pit with grunts of effort. The pit was already waist-deep, more than enough to bury someone like Wu Xiaoliu, yet she kept digging.
Whenever she saw the broken Pingxian, she would remember the moment Xiao Zhun cut her spear shaft, the bite marks on his hand, the beautiful woman in the tent, and the words she had said.
She wanted to dig a hole and bury the spear so that out of sight would mean out of mind. But when it came down to it, she couldn't bear to let go, so she could only allow her emotions to torment her.
After digging for a while longer, she finally felt tired. She sat on the ground, staring blankly at the dark pit. Her eyes suddenly grew sore and her throat tightened, making it hard to breathe. Finally, as a form of release, she let out a loud cry.
She thought she would shed tears, but she found she couldn't cry no matter what. She merely rubbed her eyes in vain, hoping to squeeze out some moisture.
She couldn't quite distinguish what emotion was in her heart; she just felt wronged and a bit angry. A breath was stuck in her chest, and she couldn't let it out. She had never felt this way before, and thus she was somewhat at a loss.
Her outstretched hand retracted; her clenched fist loosened. After hesitating and struggling for a long time, she still used the cloth to wrap the broken spear back up.
She couldn't do it; she really couldn't bear to part with it.
Even if this spear was broken in two, she still couldn't bring herself to bury it like this.
If one day the bond between her and Xiao Zhun was also severed like Pingxian, would she be able to walk on alone...?
The sound of branches being pressed down came from behind her, followed by a voice.
"Do not look like this."
Xiao Nanhui turned and looked up. Under the moonlight, the young Emperor wore a black cloak, his entire being seemingly merging with the night, save for his eyes which shimmered with a faint light.
She habitually raised her hand to wipe her face, still saying nothing.
But her hands were stained with dirt, so her face only became dirtier the more she wiped. Su Wei frowned at the sight.
"Do not look like this. It is truly unsightly."
Xiao Nanhui’s inner self was roaring: *What do you care!*
But the roar reached her lips and turned into a mumble as quiet as a mosquito: "The night is deep and the dew is heavy. Your Majesty should rest early."
Having said that, she rose to leave. Halfway through, she remembered something, turned back, and picked up the cloth bundle from the ground.
Su Wei’s gaze fell upon the bundle containing the broken spear. His flat, emotionless voice rose behind her again.
"Did We grant you permission to withdraw?"
Her mood was terrible right now, but she couldn't show her temper in front of this man. She could only stop. "Does Your Majesty have further instructions?"
Su Wei looked at her and spoke, as if in a casual exchange between sovereign and subject.
"The Marquis of Qinghuai just pleaded with Us, asking for the pardon of the Bai daughter, Bai Yun. What does the General of the Right think of this matter?"
These words were like a poisoned blade carving into her heart.
Xiao Zhun really didn't want her to die. For this, he did not hesitate to trample upon his own position as a military commander, humbly pleading with this stone-hearted man.
Xiao Nanhui found that ever since she learned the true identity of the person before her, she felt he was increasingly inscrutable and treacherous. Not only had his voice changed, but the aura in his every gesture was entirely different.
To think she had once felt a sense of "Buddha-nature" in that so-called "Zhongli Jing." Now it seemed it was all a disguise. Even if he wore the face of a Buddha, this man’s heart was utterly black.
Taking a deep breath, she tried her best to appear calm.
"Your Majesty has your own judgment. This official does not dare to speak recklessly."
*Hmph, it’s just passing the buck. I’ve learned how to do that.*
"Oh? We thought you would plead for the Marquis of Qinghuai. After all, the Bai clan deserves execution—even the extermination of nine generations would not be excessive. As a general of Tiancheng, he actually dared to ask Us to spare someone. Is he certain that We will be pressured by the military power in his hands and follow his every word?"
Xiao Nanhui suddenly broke into a cold sweat.
She had made a mistake; having been alone with him for so long, she had actually treated the person before her as the previous Zhongli Jing.
Zhongli Jing always liked to say "it matters not," and over time, she had become lax.
"My foster father’s entire family was killed by the Bai rebels. Even washing Bizhou in blood would not suffice to appease this hatred. How could he harbor selfish motives? Even less would he dare to threaten Your Majesty. There must be another hidden reason for this. I pray Your Majesty judges clearly."
She knelt on one knee as she spoke, not daring to look up at the expression of the man before her.
Who can know the heart of an Emperor? Since she couldn't understand it, it was better not to look.
After a long time, just as she was wondering if the person standing before her had already left, he finally spoke.
"We originally came for the moonlight, but We were disturbed by your funeral-like wailing. Thus, We shall punish you by having you stand guard outside Our tent. Do not move a single step until dawn. Do you accept this punishment?"
Xiao Nanhui glanced sideways at the sky.
Tonight was overcast; not even a shadow cast by moonlight could be seen on the ground.
She tried her best to control her voice so it didn't sound like she was grinding her teeth. "This official accepts the punishment."
Su Wei nodded with satisfaction. Before leaving, he leisurely added another sentence.
"We set out tomorrow at the Hour of the Tiger. Do not be late."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
白允 | Bai Yun | Daughter of Bai Heliu.
白鹤留 | Bai Heliu | Former Censor-in-Chief who led the Yuan'an Rebellion.
肖青 | Xiao Qing | The late Prince Shuo, Xiao Zhun's father.
肖衡 | Xiao Heng | Xiao Zhun's eldest brother.
肖谨 | Xiao Jin | Xiao Zhun's third brother.
雨安之乱 | Yuan'an Rebellion | The historical rebellion led by the Bai family.
平弦 | Pingxian | Xiao Nanhui's spear (literally "Level Chord/String").
丁未翔 | Ding Weixiang | A Lieutenant in the Yanchi Camp; an imperial guard.
雁翅营 | Yanchi Camp | "Goose Wing Camp," an elite military unit.
寅时 | Hour of the Tiger | 3:00 AM – 5:00 AM.
