May the gods and buddhas of all heavens offer their protection.

The events in Lanzhou had long since faded into the past. Not wishing to trouble Xu Zhuning further, Xu Guiyi spoke slowly, "Since you have brought this up today, I won't hide it from you. What happened back then... I was indeed angry for a long time." Xu Zhuning's heart tightened, and she hurriedly lowered her head.

"But what angered me was not that Zhuhua seized the Ren family's marriage proposal. What pained me was that, for the sake of a man, she abandoned the bond between sisters. We are family, bound by blood—shouldn't the ties between siblings matter more than some stranger?" Xu Guiyi, her voice heated with emotion, still felt a lingering sadness in her heart.

Xu Zhuning seemed surprised by Xu Guiyi's words; she looked up at once, her eyes burning, shimmering faintly with tears. Xu Guiyi drew her cousin close, her voice gentle, "Zhuning, it's all in the past now. Let us both learn to let go."

Xu Zhuning was a deeply sensitive soul. Hearing Xu Guiyi's words, she felt all the more ashamed and remorseful, her voice choking as she said, "Had Fourth Sister not acted so selfishly all those years ago, Third Sister wouldn't be far from her family now, trapped in the Eastern Palace, struggling with every step she takes."

Xu Guiyi gave a helpless smile and replied, "What woman truly finds comfort after marrying into another family? Do you really think everyone is as kind and generous as Uncle and Aunt, treating Sister-in-law Shen as their own daughter?"

"My life in the Eastern Palace is hardly easy, but do you think Zhuhua fares any better in the Ren household? In truth, wherever we are, it's all the same. The world is harsh to women, so we must be strong and resilient ourselves, and only then will we see the moon after the clouds part."

Seeing Xu Guiyi so open-minded, so gracious and wise, Xu Zhuning felt even more ashamed, and a few more tears fell from her eyes. "I will remember your advice, Third Sister. If I ever get the chance to see Fourth Sister, I will be sure to tell her of your feelings. She has suffered and learned her lesson in the Ren family, and she is much more sensible than before. She will understand your sincerity."

Xu Guiyi adjusted the handkerchief in her hand, a smile in her eyes, momentarily at a loss for words. Xu Zhuning then changed the subject. "Third Sister, there is another matter I must tell you." Xu Guiyi looked up. "Go on, I'm listening." It was best to air everything—perhaps then, old grievances could be put to rest.

Xu Zhuning wiped her tears. "Years ago, when the palace sent artists to Lanzhou to search for beauties and found none, it was my father and mother who secretly gave your portrait to the artist..." This was how Xu Guiyi came to the Empress's attention and was summoned to the palace as a candidate for Crown Princess.

"How did you find out?" Xu Guiyi asked, astonished. "I overheard it. After you were made Crown Princess, I once heard Father and Mother speaking in hushed tones in their room. I was dozing behind the screen—they thought I was asleep..."

Xu Guiyi reached for Xu Zhuning's hand and patted it. "Such is life. If not for this chance, another would surely have come along. I am not someone who dwells in resentment—I choose to look ahead, and so should you. From now on, let us both live well." Xu Zhuning stared for a long while before nodding, half understanding.

By the time Xu Guiyi finished speaking, she had reached the threshold of the room, when Xu Zhuning suddenly called out, "Third Sister, when my child is born, will you name him for me?"

With one foot already out the door, Xu Guiyi suddenly felt her eyes grow hot. She turned back to see Xu Zhuning sitting on the bed, bathed in the interplay of light and shadow, smiling radiantly. "Of course! I'll go home and study the classics carefully."

Hearing this, Xu Zhuning finally smiled with relief, watching Xu Guiyi's figure recede into the distance.

As Xu Guiyi walked briskly through the courtyard, her heart ached with guilt. Xu Zhuning had been married to Guangling for over a year—if she, as an elder sister, had cared more about her daily life, perhaps Xu Zhuning would not have suffered so much in the Yuan household.

It was Xu Zhuhua who erred back then, yet Xu Guiyi had vented her anger on Xu Zhuning. In truth, guilt weighed heavy on her heart.

Wuxing Mountain, Panlong Monastery.

The Empress had held the position of chief consort for twenty years, her decisiveness no lesser than any man's—countless lives had been lost, both openly and in secret, by her command. Yet when burning incense and praying, her piety was unmatched.

The Empress would say that she knew her hands were stained with too much blood; she did not ask the gods or Buddha to bless her, only that they treat her son kindly.

Empress Song, eldest legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Changping, was married at sixteen to the then-Emperor. She climbed from princess consort to Crown Princess, and finally to Empress.

It was said that at first, the imperial couple were deeply in love. But after the Emperor ascended the throne, surviving the turmoil of rebellious princes, he took more and more concubines to balance the factions within the court. The number of obstacles between them only increased.

When imperial power was finally secure, their beloved eldest son died of a mild fever—a time of unbearable grief for the Empress. During those years, Consort Nangong bore the third, fourth, and sixth princes.

Later, Fu Lancheng was born, giving the Empress a legitimate son once more, allowing her to suppress Consort Nangong's rising influence. But as Fu Lancheng grew, the Emperor and Empress sharply disagreed on how to raise him, widening the gulf between them.

Song Mei'an spent her entire life treading on thin ice: for the honor of the Song family, for her son Fu Lancheng, for her status as Empress of the dynasty—never a day of ease.

Sometimes, when Xu Guiyi thought of this, she felt both pity and resentment. Since ancient times, a woman's fate always seemed to depend on her clan, her husband, her children. Perhaps because Fu Lancheng had witnessed his mother’s hardships from a young age, he cared little for his status as the legitimate imperial son. Even when named Crown Prince, he never hid his disdain for the Emperor and Consort Nangong.

During Xu Guiyi’s stay with the Empress at Wuxing Mountain, she often dreamed at night of her youth.

In those days, she had been proud and reckless—the most notorious scion of a noble house in Guangling. After the House of Marquis Wujing was destroyed, she fell from the clouds to the abyss, left the capital incognito, and survived in a humble Daoist temple. She lived—but it was worse than death, for she lost all her kin and every shred of honor.

...Xu Yan arranged for her to join the Xu family. She tried to get along, to mold herself into a proper young lady, to meet the sons of great clans, to dream of marriage, children, a life like any other.

Yet whenever she looked into the mirror, the vision of her mother appeared. She had been frightened, panicked, lost. She could not sleep, nor could she tell anyone—she feared Xu Yan’s concern, feared the Xu family would see her as a monster.

She had tried countless times to steal a horse and ride back to Guangling. The furthest she got was beneath Guangling’s city walls, but she dared not enter. She feared the empty House of Marquis Wujing, feared the ancestral tablets of the Pei family stacked high as a wall, feared... that her own spirit tablet would be among them.

Her illness grew worse, so the old Madam Xu began to take her to pray at temples. Together, they visited all four hundred and eighty-four temples and Daoist shrines in Jiangdong.

Her grandmother would say she wanted to beseech every deity in the heavens to protect her granddaughter.

It turned out, the hearts of elders toward their descendants are always the same.

In the Western Garrison, this time the Emperor sent Commander-in-Chief Zhang Qi of the Kirin Army to accompany Fu Lancheng, hoping to give him plenty of experience.

There were twelve generals stationed in the west, each guarding a vast territory. Fu Lancheng inspected each post, each district in turn, surveying the land and the people—a process that took a month or more. Then he inspected the horse farms, military pay, and camps, another month or two gone.

Yet to Fu Lancheng’s delight, he encountered Cao You’an in the west—the distinguished second brother of Cao Ziyin.

They had not seen each other in nearly two years. After catching up, Fu Lancheng sighed, “Time passes so quickly! I nearly forgot you’ve been serving in the western army for years already.”

“It does fly by,” Cao You’an agreed. He recalled how, in their youth, in the study hall of the Cao family, Grand Tutor Cao once asked each of them what they aspired to.

The young prince, elegant and proud, twirled his white jade fan and answered carelessly, “To live free and unrestrained, like drifting clouds and wild cranes.” The words were hardly out before Grand Tutor Cao rebuked him sternly. “Absurd! As the legitimate son of the Emperor, how can you be so frivolous?”

Eight-year-old Fu Lancheng, unafraid, argued, “We were asked our dreams, not for reality. What harm is there in a few words?” Grand Tutor Cao, infuriated, glared at him, then declared that such talk was reckless—a legitimate heir has no business dreaming of a carefree life.

Cao You’an, at that time, had said, “To lay down the pen and take up arms, to guard a peaceful frontier.” The tutor paused then, for the Cao family was a house of scholars, every generation producing men of letters. Cao You’an, exceptionally gifted, was their great hope.

Years flowed by, the mountains and rivers far away now. That conversation in the Cao family’s study had happened so long ago. The legitimate son had become Crown Prince as expected, and Cao You’an had cast aside his brush to become a border general.

Cao You’an looked at the young Crown Prince before him—elegant in bearing, refined and cultured, yet rebellious and untamable at heart. His appearance had changed little, but he was no longer that child prince of memory.

Cao You’an withdrew his gaze, a faint smile on his lips. “The world says the Crown Prince is unruly, holding none in regard. I’ve heard it so often, I almost believed it myself. Never did I imagine I’d see you here, in the western barracks.”

Fu Lancheng had nothing to say to that. Smiling, he waved his hand, then looked up at the moon, the wind cool across his face. Under the vast western sky, the breeze and moonlight filled his heart.

The Empress spent over half a month at Wuxing Mountain before finally deciding to return to the capital. The Imperial Guards always ensured her safety. Xu Guiyi was resting with eyes closed in her carriage, on the verge of sleep, when a sudden commotion jolted her awake—terrified cries and shrill screams from the palace servants and eunuchs...

“Assassins! Assassins! Protect Her Majesty! Help!” Xu Guiyi leapt from the carriage and rushed toward the Empress. Seeing the assassins multiplying and the crowd descending into chaos, her heart burned with anxiety. “Mother!”

The Empress, already in poor health, was clearly badly shaken by the sudden attack. When she saw Xu Guiyi, tears sprang to her eyes. “Child, why did you come out?”

Their carriages, shielded by the Imperial Guards, tried to break through the siege. The clashing of blades and twang of arrows filled the air, the cries of battle rising and falling. The Empress gasped, “Why are we retreating? Are eight hundred Imperial Guards not a match for mere assassins?” It was clear the situation was deteriorating—the assassins were growing in number, the guards losing control.

Xu Guiyi was terrified but dared not say so. As the carriage sped forward, a gust of wind lifted the curtain—she caught a glimpse outside: a dark mass of assassins, fighting ever more fiercely, men with nothing to lose.