Everyone assumed that Xie Chongyu would have used every means to leave the capital that day—but only Gu Jiao knew that he hadn’t actually left.
As the sound of fabric slicing through the long night air suddenly reached her ears, she stood alone in the courtyard, staring dumbly at the ashes left behind after the wedding garments were burned.
Startled, she looked up—and saw another figure before her.
She had no time to think. The first thing she did was turn her back.
After several quick breaths, she stepped toward the house.
But her sleeve was already grabbed.
He didn’t hold on tightly; she could have pulled away easily. Yet, for some reason, she could not move her feet.
After a long moment, she spoke softly: “Leave now, and I’ll pretend I saw nothing.”
Behind her, his voice was hoarse and strained: “You don’t want to see me?”
Before she could reply, he forced a bitter smile and said, “No… it’s I who should be ashamed. But, Jiao Jiao, if I didn’t come this time, I would hate myself for the rest of my life.”
Closing her eyes, Gu Jiao slowly turned around—and there, standing before her, was the familiar figure that had been inseparable from her for so many years.
“Xie Chongyu,” she said slowly, “did you come to ask me to help you leave the capital?”
Xie Chongyu froze for a moment. Then a mist gathered in his eyes.
“You… you think of me this way?”
He seemed to hear something unbelievable, struggling to speak.
“What else would you have me think?”
Gu Jiao spoke with no resentment, only seriousness. “The Yulin Guard is stationed at every city gate. Now that you’re here, isn’t it to use the Left Prime Minister’s influence?”
Hearing this, he slowly loosened his grip on her sleeve and staggered back a step.
She saw him clearly then—his eyelashes and hair dusted with fine snow, his face pale and blending into the winter landscape, the gray fur-lined coat heavy with melted snow on his shoulders.
In this freezing weather, hadn’t Xie Changling’s men thought to change his clothes?
Yet she stood there calmly, her gaze steady, even a little cold.
“At the Gu residence temple, it seems there’s no room for Master Xie’s grand statue,” she said with a smile—but the warmth never reached her eyes. “Should I be happy for you?”
After her words, all color drained from Xie Chongyu’s face. He raised a hand to cover his eyes, body trembling slightly, letting out a short, bitter laugh.
“Jiao Jiao, I know you resent me. No matter what, as long as you’re not angry with me…”
He looked helpless, stretching a hand toward hers.
The wind and snow intensified, his voice breaking as if it might be scattered away in her ears.
Gu Jiao stepped back, avoiding his touch.
“Xie Chongyu, I don’t resent you,” she said, glancing at the pile of ashes not far off. “Because there’s no need to anymore.”
Following her gaze, Xie Chongyu saw a corner of gilded red paper.
He knew what it was.
A wedding contract.
He swayed, uncontrollably moving toward it.
Gu Jiao watched his retreating figure for a long moment before turning without hesitation and entering the house.
Xie Chongyu picked up the corner of the wedding contract. After hearing the door close, he froze, looking back only to see the door firmly shut.
…
That night, Xie Chongyu stayed outside her door, speaking through the hours.
She leaned on the other side, listening the entire night.
His words were scattered, broken, but he never stopped.
He coughed more and more, but his tone remained gentle.
As dawn approached, shadows flickered. Figures knelt beside him, whispering softly.
Xie Chongyu remained silent for a long while. She heard him speak with them, then rise, steadying himself on the doorframe.
Through the crack in the door, she saw him staggering, nearly falling, yet supported tightly by those around him.
“Jiao Jiao,” his voice now hoarse, “there are still many things I want to say to you. I know… whatever I say, you probably won’t want to hear it.”
“I only ask one thing,” he continued, “I beg you—don’t hate me. But also, do not doubt my intentions.”
“Xie Chongyu is a scoundrel, but toward you… he has never once been insincere.”
Gu Jiao closed her eyes, forcing down the emotions she could barely contain.
“Jiao Jiao, I should go now.” He pressed his head against the door, voice low and pleading.
“If… I can’t leave the capital today… will you hate me just a little?”
Finally, Gu Jiao opened the door, letting him turn away.
She watched from a distance as he disappeared into the white snow, his footprints quickly covered by new snow. She felt suddenly exhausted.
The sky was tinged with pale light. Gu Jiao left the Gu residence alone.
Before the Lantern Festival, the sacred tree that was said to be protected by the tree spirit stood empty.
She stood by it, patiently and stubbornly searching through the hanging “marriage plaques.”
Xie Chongyu had intentionally hung the wooden plaque high and tight—but with effort, it was not difficult to retrieve.
So she finally took it.
And buried it at the roots of the tree.
She did not believe in spirits. No matter how high Xie Chongyu had hung it, he still left.
…
Opening her eyes, Gu Jiao’s gaze fell again on the robe. She exhaled softly.
Her actions that day had indeed been a little impulsive. And… although she hadn’t planned to retrieve it again, she had underestimated Ning Fei.
He must have guessed she would regret it, which was why, after she left, he dug it up.
She could almost imagine the agonized, solemn expression on his face at that moment.
Having a friend like that… made it impossible to play dumb.
…
In the Northern Garden, after Gu Qingxing finished speaking, the two of them fell silent for a long while.
After some time, Jun Heng finally spoke. “Is the Left Prime Minister upset with me?”
That time, he had deliberately sent Gu Qingxing away.
Since then, even when Gu Qingxing had visited the palace, he had never mentioned this incident—until today, when he dismissed everyone and spoke of Gu Jiao for the first time.
Gu Qingxing shook his head slightly. “I am not interfering with Jiao Jiao’s choice. There is only one thing I hope for from Your Majesty—a sense of peace of mind.”
“You kept her here… was it truly for the greater good?”
After speaking, Jun Heng lowered his eyelids, but he did not seem surprised by Gu Qingxing’s question.
“No,” he replied.
Gu Qingxing exhaled softly. “Do you remember long ago, I once advised you?”
“Some things cannot be forced,” Jun Heng scoffed, “but Left Prime Minister, I have waited for her for years.”
“You said that a lifelong obsession is only a fleeting desire. Do you still believe that?” He gave a wry, self-deprecating smile.
Gu Qingxing was silent.
“I have only one daughter—Jiao Jiao,” he said softly. “In the eyes of others, she is gentle and humble, avoids conflicts. But she has her own mind. Once she makes up her mind, it is hard to change.”
“That is why… knowing it’s wrong, I still allowed her marriage to proceed silently.”
“And now…”
“I will not force her, ever,” Jun Heng interrupted firmly.
Gu Qingxing understood her. He, too, felt the same.
“If that is the case… why must you insist on keeping her?” After a long moment, Gu Qingxing could not help speaking.
Even though he had agreed to let her make her own choices, he still could not bear to see Gu Jiao wronged.
Jun Heng closed his eyes, intending to use the words he would normally say when facing her to answer Gu Qingxing—but the words stuck at the tip of his tongue, unable to leave.
When he finally opened his eyes, his voice was hoarse: “Since Xie Chongyu has already given up on her, why can’t I?”
Hearing the meaning behind his question, Gu Qingxing’s eyes showed a flicker of surprise.
“I just want to try one more time—whether right or wrong, it’s better than the present.”
Jun Heng lowered his gaze, weary. What else could he do? He had never truly possessed anything; even if their final meeting ended in enmity, he could accept it.
It was laughable—his deepest thoughts, except for Gu Qingxing, no one else could ever know.
Gu Qingxing paused, a trace of sorrow in his eyes as he looked at Jun Heng.
“I only hope Jiao Jiao can live long without worry. Even if she cannot, she need not be drawn into conflicts that do not concern her.”
…
“Very well.”
…
Gu Jiao turned and closed the door behind her, smoothing the slightly messy strands of her hair. She exhaled slowly and stepped outside.
The sunlight fell on her, and her heart suddenly calmed.
The snow in the capital had already stopped, and shortly after, spring would arrive.
Everything would get better.
After walking some distance, she suddenly noticed a figure slowly approaching.
He saw her too but did not stop, instead steadily walking in her direction.
Perhaps he was tired; Gu Jiao did not smile as she usually would. He quietly stood in place.
“Gu Jiao.” He stopped before her, his voice hoarse.
She looked up at him.
“Sorry,” he whispered, almost like a dream.
Gu Jiao was momentarily taken aback.
Without asking the reason, she exhaled softly: “Shall we walk together?”
…
When was the last time she had walked side by side with Jun Heng?
Glancing at the figure beside her from the corner of her eye, she thought silently.
“Thank you… for Ning Fei Zhi.”
After a long pause, she casually brought up a topic.
Since Ning Fei Zhi had suffered because of her, and Jun Heng had helped him out, it was only right for her to express gratitude.
Jun Heng stopped mid-step, then abruptly turned to look at her.
A trace of pain flickered in his eyes.
Gu Jiao: …Can’t even say that?
“You thank me… for him?” he asked slowly, each word heavy, as if the question itself was a struggle.
He closed his eyes, then opened them sharply, his words tinged with undeniable anger: “Last time you protected him. You have a deep connection with Ning Fei Zhi, and with me, it is so distant?”
Gu Jiao froze.
This… was the reckoning from autumn still not over?
Under his burning gaze, for some reason, she suddenly felt like smiling.
So she did. She really smiled.
Gu Jiao was not unaccustomed to arguing with people, but she always followed the principle of dealing with today’s matters today—rarely dragging long-past events into quarrels.
Jun Heng was the exact opposite. When angered, he either hid it completely or recounted, word for word, something said years ago, leaving her often needing a moment to fully understand his meaning.
She wondered if he was the same in court—exposing every detail of someone’s family while reprimanding them. Truly… that would be quite entertaining.
Jun Heng, who had been filled with annoyance, saw the smile on her lowered face and felt a strange disorientation.
It had been a long time since he had seen her smile like this.
This smile was not the distant, aloof one that made him feel like a stranger—it was the casual, natural smile he had always known, effortlessly lifted with a glance back at him.
“You said it wrong. Next time don’t do it again, okay?”
Her soft, gentle voice seemed to come from far away, the tone unmistakably familiar.
Jun Heng’s gaze trembled. He looked forward but gradually felt his emotions settle.
“Next time he causes trouble, I won’t interfere,” he muttered.
Gu Jiao nodded approvingly: “That’s natural. You aren’t close to him.”
Sorry, young master Ning—let’s hope you get into less trouble lately.
“I don’t want you to call me Your Majesty,” the low voice beside her added.
Gu Jiao: …
She was thinking of how to politely say she wanted a few more normal days of life, and Jun Heng continued: “Only when there’s no one else around…”
“You also rarely called me Seventh Prince before.”
“…Fine.” One title was enough.
“I’m also not used to being called ‘I’ in front of you.” His voice grew even lower.
“Mm… as you like.” She did not care what he said.
“Gu Jiao, I…” His last words were so soft they seemed ready to vanish.
At that moment, a gust of wind rustled the surroundings.
Gu Jiao did not hear him clearly and turned slightly in curiosity: “Hm?”
Jun Heng opened his mouth, then shook his head: “Nothing.”
After that, he fell silent.
In the brief stillness, Gu Jiao pondered saying something to ease the atmosphere when she suddenly exclaimed softly: “Ah!”
Jun Heng raised his head, following her gaze.
Not far off, two servants were carefully carrying a rather old-looking swing, swaying as they walked.
He looked closer and still saw nothing unusual. But Gu Jiao seemed deep in thought.
“Sister?”
The servants also noticed the two of them. They did not recognize Jun Heng but, seeing Gu Jiao, immediately set down the swing, straightened their clothes, and bowed.
Gu Jiao tilted her head to look at Jun Heng. Seeing he did not mind, she walked over.
“Where did this come from?” she asked the servants.
One of them replied: “The steward said the storage was too cluttered, so we were to organize it when we had free time.”
“This swing is covered in cobwebs. The wood is loose. It can only be used for firewood in the kitchen.”
“Why?” Jun Heng asked quietly as he walked behind her.
“I just felt it looked familiar. When I came closer, it really was an old item,” Gu Jiao said with a faint smile. “It also reminded me of some things.”
Old item?
What old item could make her smile so brightly?
Knowing he shouldn’t overthink it, Jun Heng nonetheless couldn’t help but imagine one possibility.
Though she showed no expression, he could still tell her mood today was somewhat low.
The reason was obvious.
Everywhere in the Gu residence, there were traces of Xie Chongyu.
And now, when she spoke like this… that “old item,” it could only belong to him.