“Your Highness and I shall never meet again in this lifetime.”
In her two lifetimes thereafter, Song Zhiluan never again witnessed snowfall as heavy as that in the eighth year of Shunhe.
The roaring blizzard clung to her lashes, chilling her pupils, while the white fox fur lining her cheeks retained warmth along her temples—as if prolonging the fleeting heat that surged before tears could form.
The civil and military officials accompanying the Imperial Carriage had arrived in Qidong, the eastern capital, the previous day. The Imperial Garden, after the capital’s relocation, was left only with sweeping maids and eunuchs. Thousands of palace gates remained locked as they hurried through the howling cold, their robes laden with snow.
Perhaps there were no truly free birds in this world.
Even Song Zhiluan, the noblest in their eyes, who had once been granted a branch to perch upon, had ultimately been broken.
When she boarded the Yan Di Carriage to leave the Xie residence, the boots brought by her maid still carried the warmth of the incense brazier. Yet, upon alighting and taking but a few steps, Song Zhiluan felt as though she were treading on ice.
So cold.
To send her away in such weather—he truly wished for her old illness to relapse, for her to perish then and there.
“—General Xie has arrived.”
When one had been intimately familiar with a person, their demeanor could be effortlessly conjured in the mind.
Even as he approached from afar, his footsteps partly muffled by the thick snow, Song Zhiluan could still vividly envision Xie Yujin standing before the palace gates.
She had once loved perching atop high walls to gaze down at him. The crimson palace walls soared into the azure clouds, where officials strained their expressions treading the Path to Power, their disgraceful antics unfolding within the Triple Hall. Yet Xie Yujin stood among them, exuding an air of aloofness, his lifted gaze concealing deeply buried ambitions for power.
He was the most contradictory person she had ever met.
Such a detached, ascetic demeanor ought to belong to an immortal untouched by worldly desires.
She had seen it clearly—and yet she had walked toward him without hesitation.
Looking back now, perhaps from the very beginning, at that dilapidated bridge, her gaze should never have lingered on him.
Then there would have been no karmic consequences.
“I implore Your Highness to relinquish this obsession—”
Xie Yujin’s voice cut through, its already frigid tone rolling through the wind and snow like icy water, dousing Song Zhiluan’s distant reverie.
Chilling her to the core.
“After today’s parting, Your Highness and I shall never meet again in this lifetime.”
The cold wind rushed into her throat. Song Zhiluan drew a deeper breath, her gaze fixed ahead yet registering nothing.
The agony of a wrenched heart was a sensation she had tasted too often—by now, it had grown numb.
Turning her back to Xie Yujin, she took a step forward.
The jade pendants at her waist chimed softly.
Fortunately, she had long been prepared. Her voice emerged calmer than she had anticipated.
“What fine words—‘never to meet again in this lifetime.’”
She lifted her head once more, blinking rapidly as tears stung her eyes. “Xie Yujin, consider it my misjudgment of character in this life.”
Zhinu held an umbrella over Song Zhiluan. Through the thickly falling snow, the young man’s expression remained indistinct amid the endless white.
The surrounding palace attendants stood in terrified silence. The Golden Guard commander stepped forward: “General, by Imperial Edict, you are to depart for the eastern capital at once. Tomorrow is your joyous occasion—there is no time to delay.”
Joyous occasion.
Song Zhiluan turned her head away, feeling an acute sense of irony. She had watched Xie Yujin ascend to his current position with both hope and trepidation, yet never imagined that when this day arrived, his first act would be to sever ties with her.
A youthful marriage, ten years of companionship, all exchanged for the words “never to meet again in this lifetime.”
Her tongue felt steeped in bitterness as she silently mouthed those words, gradually tasting a sense of liberation.
So be it.
So be it.
“Then we shall never meet again,” Song Zhiluan whispered softly: “Xie Yujin, in life or death, we shall never cross paths again.”
Qiwu Palace was where Song Zhiluan resided before establishing her own residence.
Silver charcoal burned in the four corners of the bedchamber.
Zhinu brought in a small snowman and was about to speak when the princess leaning on the Brocade Soft Couch smiled at her: “Zhinu, I’ve heard there’s a type of frozen pear in Liangzhou that tastes wonderfully refreshing. Could you find some for me tomorrow?”
Zhinu froze, tears immediately welling up: “Is Your Highness sending Zhinu away?”
“How could that be…” Before Song Zhiluan could finish, Zhinu quickly interrupted, wiping her tears away with both hands as she smiled: “Your Highness, look at this snowman. Doesn’t it resemble you?”
Song Zhiluan preferred cold over heat. When the window was opened moments later, the chill swept in, actually making her ailing body feel somewhat lighter.
Feeling slightly more spirited, she propped her chin and examined it carefully.
The snowman had a piece of vibrant green jade fragment tied with silk on its head, serving as a mask.
As Zhinu looked at the clearly defined dark pupils and the weariness that couldn’t be concealed in the woman before her, she inexplicably remembered Song Zhiluan during her newlywed days when the princess’s eyes briefly brightened.
In her youth, the princess had loved Nuo Opera most. Whenever Nuo Dances were performed to entertain deities and pray for blessings, or during the New Year’s Eve Nuo Exorcism, she would always wear a mask and blend into the crowd to join the excitement.
This continued even after her marriage.
That year, dressed in crimson robes for a nighttime procession, they lit wax torches and burned precious sandalwood, the brilliance illuminating the night like daylight.
The young woman wore a mask and a Wide-sleeved Ru Skirt, standing on tiptoe and stretching her arms among the crowd on Vermillion Bird Street. The young man noticed the person beside him had fallen behind, stopped and turned back to see the young woman beginning to dance. With a slight raise of his brow, he found a quiet spot to watch.
When she looked up to search for him, their eyes met.
“You still remember this silk fabric my imperial brother gave me.” Song Zhiluan gazed at the green leaf on the snowman’s head and spoke slowly, “He always enjoyed dressing me up like a flower.”
Beautiful indeed, yet utterly useless.
Zhinu understood the implied meaning and comforted her: “Your Highness, don’t be sad. The princess’s residence has been unoccupied for so long that renovations will take some time. I’m sure we’ll be able to return in a couple of days.”
They could never go back.
Song Zhiluan looked at her, covered her mouth as she coughed several times, then picked up a handkerchief – shockingly, it was stained with bright, glaring blood.
She stared in disbelief.
Was her end approaching?
She was still so young.
Song Zhiluan’s expression remained exceptionally calm amid Zhinu’s distressed cries.
For no apparent reason, she thought of the third year of Xingyang.
It was the beginning of the new dynasty, the third year of her father’s reign.
It was also the year she married Xie Yujin.
If she had made different choices back then, relying on herself rather than others, would the outcome have been different?
…
On New Year’s Eve, the tavern echoed with clinking glasses as pots of fine wine were transferred from the waiter’s tray to tables, colorful banners fluttering on both sides of the street.
“Hey, have you heard? Princess Linghuai recently dismissed all the entertainers from her residence!”
“Really? Weren’t those entertainers actually her male consorts, each as handsome as Pan An? How could she bear to disband such delightful company?”
Several men roared with drunken laughter, toasting each other with unsteady gestures.
“Romantic fortune? Whose romantic fortune? The Second Princess’s beauty is renowned throughout the capital. If you ask me, those men are getting the better deal! If she were willing, I’d gladly offer myself too!”
“Pah! Princess Linghuai is His Majesty’s most favored daughter! The Crown Prince’s own sister – how dare a nobody like you entertain such thoughts!”
The laughter at the banquet table grew louder as the conversation heated up, everyone shouting at the top of their lungs.
Song Zhen, also drunk, squinted at the young man sitting cross-legged opposite him: “You heard that? I think Linghuai might actually be ready to settle down this time.”
Xie Yujin was leisurely pouring wine into his cup. Moonlight gathered and intertwined on his deep purple official robe, creating faint hues that should have evoked softness, yet he gave off the impression of thorns growing wild under the moonlight – a dangerous feeling that seeped into one’s soul.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Come now,” Song Zhen leaned in with a laugh, “you know perfectly well where my little cousin’s heart lies. Why play dumb?”
Xie Yujin glanced sideways at him, his tone indifferent: “Princess Linghuai grew up with Academician Xu, and His Majesty intends to arrange their marriage. Where her heart lies – does it matter?”
Song Zhen made a disapproving sound. “Must you be so heartless? While it’s true His Majesty and the Xu family previously considered marriage, that was before the empire was established. Who knows what they think now? As for childhood friends, didn’t you and Linghuai also know each other since youth…”
Song Zhen’s figure gradually blurred before his eyes.
It felt as if a stone had shattered the lake’s surface in his mind, the ripples carrying the scent of wine as they slowly obscured the scene before him.
The noisy voices were swallowed by the swirling light of the wine vessel, growing fainter and fainter.
…
Xie Yujin raised his hand, trying to block the glaring light from the vessel.
The next moment, he realized it was moonlight.
As the hazy scene ended, he understood what had happened and lowered his hand.
He was no longer in the tavern – his memory had cut off at nightfall, and now the moon hung full like a silver plate.
Several hours had passed, and he was in a woman’s bedchamber.
In the entire Jiang Dynasty, only she would do something like this.
Xie Yujin pushed the door open.
Before him stretched a bluestone path leading to a garden clear as springwater, flanked on both sides by several precious Jade Dew pear trees.
Moonlight glimmered on the branches where dark golden boots swung gently. Above them were water-green skirts and a fair neck – a young girl sat on the first pear tree to the left, wearing a ferocious mask with bared fangs.
Behind her stretched endless Pearl Palace Shell Towers, magnificently colorful beyond measure.
Hearing the noise, she leaned forward and tilted her head, the jewels around her neck tinkling as she laughed brightly, though with a hint of confusion.
“Purple Python Robe, Gold Fish Pouch… which of my father’s ministers are you?”
The girl “panicked” and covered herself. “How dare you emerge from this princess’s bedchamber!”
Xie Yujin closed the door behind him, leaning his waist against the doorframe. His dark eyes fixed on her as he asked in a slightly cold voice:
“Has Your Highness had enough fun?”
Song Zhiluan laughed behind her mask, abandoning her act as she prepared to jump down while holding onto the tree trunk.
The tree wasn’t tall, but having spent several days playing at the Imperial Music Bureau, her strength was depleted, and she nearly stumbled upon landing.
“I say, General Xie – aren’t you supposed to be the most skilled martial artist? You wouldn’t even catch me when you saw me falling?”
“Since Your Highness knew you couldn’t get down, why did you climb up in the first place?”
Song Zhiluan had already staggered to his side, her mask fearsome. “What did you call this princess?”
“Your Highness.”
“You call me Your Highness, so I can do whatever I want in front of you,” the girl removed her mask, revealing a dazzling face with a dimple at the corner of her mouth that seemed to quiver with indignation. “I thought you would enter the palace. His Majesty granted you leave, yet you went drinking with my cousin instead, leaving your princess waiting for you all day! Tell me, what punishment do you deserve?”
Xie Yujin lowered his gaze, letting it linger on her face for only a moment before turning away, his voice distant and cold: “This subject never asked Your Highness to wait.”
Upon hearing this, Song Zhiluan tossed her mask aside. “Oh, very well. Then you shall taste what it’s like to wait for someone too. This princess is leaving.”
“What exactly do you want?” Her wrist was seized, and her nose bumped against the man’s arm, stinging slightly.
Yet, miraculously, Song Zhiluan’s anger dissipated.
She stared at the young man’s straight nose and slightly pressed lips, replying with a smile: “Finally dropping the ‘princess’? Alright, you’ll find out what I want to do soon enough. Wait for me—I’ll come tonight.”
After taking a few steps, Song Zhiluan turned back with her hands behind her, grinning: “Don’t even think about running. You know perfectly well the several hundred personal guards in my residence were all handpicked by you. If news spread that General Xie injured them in a nighttime assault on the princess’s manor, it wouldn’t look good, would it?”
Xie Yujin frowned.
The lingering warmth from the girl’s touch remained on his fingertips; he ruthlessly scattered it into the night breeze.
After Song Zhiluan left, a figure approached carrying tea: “General, some tea. Her Highness has matters to attend to. Please rest in her chamber for now.”
Song Zhiluan had two capable female officials by her side. One had a bluish birthmark near her eye.
The other had trained in the same military camp as Song Zhen and was actually a Shadow Guard.
“When will she return?”
Xie Yujin stood at the doorway, showing no intention of touching the tea.
Zhinu collected the tray. Under the moonlight, the birthmark emitted a faint, peculiar glow, yet it didn’t seem out of place on her youthful face—rather, it resembled paint from a child’s playful doodle.
“General, this humble subject does not know. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the day after. With all officials on break now, there would be no harm in the General staying at our princess’s residence for a few days.”
“And Song Zhen?”
“The heir is next door. He woke earlier than you. Yunu has already escorted him back to his residence.”
A page boy came running: “Sister Zhinu, Academician Xu is here, requesting an audience with the princess.”
“At this late hour? Why would Academician Xu come?” Zhinu looked puzzled, then said to Xie Yujin: “General, this humble subject will take her leave. If you need anything, just let me know. Her Highness said you should treat this place as your own home.”
Footsteps approached from not far away. Zhinu withdrew and happened to meet Xu Yaochen, guiding him toward the rear courtyard.
Xie Yujin’s gaze lingered on Xu Yaochen for a few seconds. Just as the latter turned his head, Xie slammed the door shut with a bang.
Song Zhiluan had a habit of drinking in moderation, never indulging excessively. Yet when Xu Yaochen arrived, he saw her gulping down strong liquor in large mouthfuls.
“You’re here!”
Xu Yaochen moved Song Zhiluan’s wine to the far end of the table, his brow furrowed tightly. “Your constitution is cold—alcohol harms your health. Have you forgotten what the imperial physician said?”
Song Zhiluan was nonchalant: “My foundation was already damaged. No amount of caution will grant me a long life, so why bother with so many rules?”
“As the ancients said: Mountains do not refuse soil, seas do not refuse water. With careful, gradual nurturing over time, living to a hundred is not an impossible feat.”
The moment Song Zhiluan saw his stern expression, she felt an urge to contradict him—perhaps a habit ingrained since childhood. With the alcohol clouding her judgment, she blurted out, “Well, the ancients also said: ‘Nourish yang in spring and summer, nourish yin in autumn and winter.’ Wine has a cold nature, so I’m simply aligning with the seasonal energy for a minor tonic.”
Before Xu Yaochen could launch into a lecture, she swiftly added, “Alright, little pedant, what brings you here today?”
“General Xie is at your place?”
“How did you know!”
Song Zhiluan gasped in surprise, “Has it been discovered already?”
“Song, the heir, informed me. Though few know now, this matter will inevitably reach others’ ears,” Xu Yaochen said. “Why on earth did you drug and kidnap him? How will you explain this to His Majesty?”
Hearing this, Song Zhiluan relaxed, slumping drowsily onto the table. “To cook the raw rice, of course. As long as it hasn’t spread, it’s fine—I haven’t mustered enough courage yet.”
Xu Yaochen’s refined brows furrowed deeply. “Your Highness, this is absurd. Do you realize who you’ve captured? Your usual mischief is one thing, but General Xie has followed His Majesty to achieve glorious military feats. The late Duke Xie served two dynasties and left only one son behind. He is not someone to be trifled with. Moreover, Your Highness, you are of priceless status—how could you…”
“Of course I know who I kidnapped! Besides, I haven’t done anything to him yet. Enough,” Song Zhiluan covered her ears. “At such a tense time, don’t add to my troubles. It’s my first time doing something like this.”
Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, she shifted topics abruptly. “You don’t want to marry me, do you?”
Xu Yaochen froze, staring at the blush on her cheeks.
“His Majesty has mentioned my marriage several times, always praising you indirectly—so obvious. Though our families discussed it when we were young, nothing was settled. It’s been years—how can he suddenly issue a marriage decree? Don’t you agree?”
Song Zhiluan mumbled drunkenly, “Now that Xie Yujin is here, in a few days, His Majesty will surely decree our marriage.”
“Xu Yaochen, if this succeeds, I’ll behave impeccably from now on. Just keep this secret for me once.”
“Or… if His Majesty finds out, could you plead for me? Don’t be fooled by my bold actions—I’m actually quite scared…”
Drunk, her cheeks flushed like rouged silk, she murmured, “If I don’t use some methods, I’ll never keep what I want.”
Xu Yaochen seemed to say much more afterward, even tucking a stray lock behind her ear. What exactly he said, Song Zhiluan couldn’t recall clearly, but she remembered him picking up her wine cup as he left, his gaze almost pitying.
How strange.
Why did he look at her that way?
Her head began to ache, and she distinctly heard him say:
“The one Princess Zhaoyang gave you—you still keep it.”
Song Zhiluan suddenly laughed, raising a finger as if seeking praise. “I’ve kept all of elder sister’s things carefully. Not a single one is damaged!”
“But… why hasn’t sister returned yet? Did she go to buy pastries for Ah Luan and brother again… The snow is so heavy, Xu Yaochen. Did you see my sister on your way? I’m so worried about her.”
Xu Yaochen’s gaze grew complicated. He sat hesitantly for a long while before finally rising. Before leaving, he carefully put away her wine cup.
When she opened her eyes again, Yunu was bringing her sobering soup.
“Your Highness, it’s time.”
This auspicious date was ingeniously calculated by Song Zhiluan through the Imperial Observatory.
It was deemed suitable for forming a blessed union.
With the help of her maids, Song Zhiluan freshened up and gathered her spirits.
After bathing, it was time to meet Xie Yujin.
Success or failure hinged on this very moment.