Eyelids felt as if covered by a soft, warm cloth.
Drowsiness set in.
Song Zhiluan’s fingers twitched. Through the square wooden window, the first thing she saw was a vast maple forest.
Tree after tree glistened with frost and snow. The morning light was faint, the darkness of the mountains not yet fully dispersed.
Even an imperial residence built with immeasurable gold and silver could not compare to the scene before her—beautiful, as if not of this mortal realm.
When she realized she was still alive, her heart sank halfway.
There was no one else in the room.
But the next moment, the door was pushed open, and Zhinu entered carrying a charcoal brazier, her face beaming with joy.
“Your Highness, you’re awake.”
Song Zhiluan stared blankly as she approached, “Zhi…nu?”
Zhinu set the brazier down, wiped her hands with a damp cloth, and hung it on the windowsill to dry, smiling. “It’s me, Your Highness. We both survived.”
Song Zhiluan threw herself at Zhinu with such force that she nearly knocked her over.
Her hands still trembled. “That’s wonderful.”
Zhinu let Song Zhiluan hold her for a while, her eyes growing warm. “Your Highness, don’t walk barefoot. The floor is cold.”
Song Zhiluan gripped her hand, looking around. “Where is Yunu? Where is she?”
“Yunu was taken to the Eastern Capital for questioning. After the assassination attempt on you, the court was shaken. When the Emperor learned of it, he ordered the rebels to be escorted to the Eastern Capital for sentencing.”
“Was it… my imperial brother who sent someone to rescue us?” Her tone held a hint of surprise.
Zhinu replied, “It was Lord Xu who requested General Yuan to enter the palace and save you. The Emperor’s men were still on their way.”
Song Zhiluan’s expression turned complex. “He really is…”
Risking his life.
Entering the palace with troops without an imperial decree—if the Emperor intended to target Xu Xiang, a single accusation of collusion would be enough to condemn Xu Yaochen to death a hundred times over.
Zhinu waited for Song Zhiluan to finish, but she stopped mid-sentence and instead said, “It’s alright. You should go rest now. I can handle the rest myself.”
Zhinu said, “Your Highness, this is Lord Xu’s private residence. Qiwu Palace is still heavy with the scent of blood and uninhabitable, so he brought you here. There are General Yuan’s troops patrolling the area, along with your personal guards. It’s very safe. Please rest and recover. I’ve already sent someone to fetch medicine.”
Song Zhiluan coughed a few times and said, “Alright.”
…
The one who wanted the princess dead was not just Xie Yujin.
Yunu rode her horse, galloping through the streets, the taverns and dance halls on either side flying past.
Her heart had never beaten so fast. Fear was like an endless abyss, slowly gnawing at her chest.
Half an hour earlier, Gao Gonggong had stroked his horsetail whisk and smiled at her. “You are the lady-in-waiting to Linghuai Princess. You should know where these people’s weapons came from. Everyone else present is already dead. When you speak before the officials later, you know what to say, right?”
“The princess is very fond of you and your sister. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
When Qiwu Palace was surrounded, two factions had confronted each other.
Both sides came prepared, their weapons bearing no markings.
One aimed to take their lives, the other to save them.
Hearing these veiled threats, Yunu did not respond. Perhaps because she had been cooperative all along, they never expected her to seek death by suddenly fleeing.
[The Prince of Dingnan is Emperor Wuyang’s only full brother. I am the Prince of Dingnan’s heir, his only heir. If the Crown Prince dies of illness and both my father and I perish, Linghuai would be the only adult imperial descendant.]
【Her situation is so similar to mine.】
Since Song Huaizhang had taken action, he would never stop.
Without her by his side, Her Highness was in grave danger.
Recalling Song Zhen’s dying words, Yunu tightened her grip on the horsewhip.
“Your Highness, look, I’ve finished painting the kite we left unfinished last time.”
Song Zhiluan turned around.
Zhinu suddenly threw herself against her.
Stabilizing herself with effort, Song Zhiluan smiled and said, “Good. We’ll attach the frame in a while, and after lunch, we’ll go fly the kite.”
As she spoke, she felt an unusual heaviness on her shoulder—a lifeless, limp weight.
Song Zhiluan’s heart stopped beating for an instant. Disbelieving, she blinked and lifted the hand resting on Zhinu’s back.
Warm blood.
Zhinu’s blood.
A bitter taste rose from her organs, her stomach churning and cramping violently. Trembling, Song Zhiluan opened her mouth, but only a breathy sound escaped.
She supported Zhinu’s sinking body, unable even to call her name.
Zhinu.
Zhinu.
Zhinu, Zhinu, Zhinu.
Her heart screamed the name madly, but when her tears fell on Zhinu’s face, there was no response. In the past, Zhinu would have leaned in to wipe her tears.
The figure across from her lowered the bow.
He wore the uniform of the Princess Manor’s guards, his face covered with a cloth.
Song Zhiluan stared fixedly at him, her eyes red-rimmed.
The numbness in her heart made her ignore the pain.
“Guards, protect the Princess!”
“There’s an assassin!”
Song Zhiluan touched the arrow embedded in her chest. Excruciating pain spread, and she coughed up blood, staggering to her knees. Yet she did not collapse in disarray. Summoning strength from somewhere, she slowly lay down beside Zhinu, pulling her into her embrace. Her tears soaked into Zhinu’s collar.
I’m sorry, Zhinu.
When Yunu first met Song Zhiluan, the latter was rolling up her trousers, wading into the river to search for clams. Despite her disheveled appearance, she still seemed to Yunu like a celestial being who had strayed into the mortal world, the gold foil on her boots tinkling melodiously with each step.
Clutching Zhinu tightly, Yunu stared fearfully at the guards behind the girl, hesitating whether to jump into the river before them.
But the future little princess of the Jiang Dynasty cheerfully lifted her skirts and came ashore. Gazing at the mark under Zhinu’s eyes, she said, “What a beautiful birthmark—it looks like a fish scale. Little mermaid, they say your name is Zhinu, right?”
She saw Zhinu tremble, her clear black-and-white eyes dazed for a long moment before she softly replied.
“Yes.”
“Fairy sister, if Zhinu is a mermaid, then what is Yunu?”
“Yunu is a clam.” Song Zhiluan paused to think for a while before answering, sunlight spilling over her smiling eyes. The river clam in her hand had a hard exterior.
The young girl touched its soft foot.
“Why a clam?”
Yunu looked at Song Zhiluan, who was even younger than her.
After a brief hesitation, Song Zhiluan smiled and met her gaze. Then, raising the dripping clam high, she closed one eye and said to the sun, “Because Yunu is strong yet soft. Only such a Yunu could nurture you, Zhinu, into such a beautiful pearl.”
A hand stretched out toward them.
“Come with me. I will avenge you.”
They took Song Zhiluan’s hand.
A string of beads suddenly fell from the horse, shattering with a “clink” under its hooves.
Xie Yujin paused for two seconds, then slowly reined in his horse.
An attendant quickly dismounted, picked up the deep red coral beads, confirmed none were missing, wrapped them carefully, and presented them to Xie Yujin.
“General.”
The young man took the shattered bracelet, lowering his gaze toward the direction from which he had come.
The forest air was damp and chilly, clinging to the coral beads. At the foot of the mountain, the Imperial City revealed its massive silhouette.
A dark figure rapidly approached from nearby—a swift horse carrying a blood-soaked man caught up with them.
When Xie Yujin clearly saw the person on horseback, his face instantly turned paler than the mist. The hand that had held a sword could no longer steady a few beads, scattering them clattering across the ground.
An attendant reacted swiftly, "General! This is the man sent to protect the Linghuai Princess."
Yunu saw them.
Amid the icy wilderness, beneath the barren branches of a maple tree, a crimson bloom spread like the princess's favorite peach-red ruqun.
Her Highness was cradled in Xie Yujin's arms.
Zhinu lay alone to the side, still clutching a kite tightly in her hand.
Tears welled up in Yunu's eyes.
Xie Yujin gently brushed aside the hair at Song Zhiluan's temple. Her lips were utterly bloodless, her body light as a sheet of paper.
He raised a hand, as if intending to take Song Zhiluan away.
Yunu pressed her sword against his neck, each word gritted through clenched teeth: "You people, with your minds full of power and the throne—who are you performing for now? Put Her Highness down!"
Xie Yujin gazed at Song Zhiluan's profile, as though she were merely asleep, his tone eerily calm: "The throne?"
"If I truly wanted the throne, Song Huaizhang would never have had the chance to sit on it."
Yunu spat with hatred, "Ridiculous! Are the hundred thousand troops stationed near the Eastern Capital keeping vigil for you? Her Highness treated you so well, yet you still wanted to kill her! Has General Xie's conscience been eaten by dogs?"
The blade pressed directly against his throat, yet Xie Yujin seemed not to feel it. He held Song Zhiluan's cold body tighter, resting his forehead lightly against her shoulder.
"Kill her?"
Xie Yujin recalled the day outside the palace gates, Song Zhiluan's retreating figure. His heart felt as if torn apart, flooded with icy, piercing snowmelt that chilled him to the bone. "If I were truly capable of killing her, she would have died countless times over."
The wind lifted Song Zhiluan's blood-stained strands of hair.
Xie Yujin stood firm, speaking softly to Song Zhiluan as if no one else were present, "Your imperial brother… is far more ruthless than I."
Yunu's tears froze on her face. She sheathed her sword, watching as Xie Yujin bent down to wipe the snow from Song Zhiluan's cheeks, and sneered, "Hypocrite."
She picked up Zhinu, glaring coldly at him.
The young man seemed not to hear her, staring blankly at the eyes of the one in his arms—those dark, cunning pupils, as if she might open them at any moment.
A sharp pain pierced his chest.
The taste of blood rose in his throat; his heartbeat slowed and heavy, pounding like a clear drumbeat.
Blood trickled from the corner of his lips. Xie Yujin tasted the metallic tang, his expression slightly surprised.
Slowly, he rose with Song Zhiluan in his arms, step by step, walking into the snow.
The soldiers who had followed surrounded Yunu. Protecting Zhinu's body, her eyes red, she watched him take Song Zhiluan away.
It was a clear night.
In the empty Guo Gong Fu, snow layered the crabapple tree, sliding from the branches to land on the damp ground.
Song Zhiluan's body was icy.
Xie Yujin laid her on a small table nearby, letting her rest face down.
She had never been so still before, her long eyelashes peacefully closed.
He naturally removed his cloak and draped it over her. Only after he had adjusted it did his expression shift with belated realization.
Song Zhiluan would no longer feel the cold.
Without warning, a tearing, sharp pain seized his heart.
At age ten, Song Zhiluan smiled as she tucked a crabapple blossom into his sword tassel, wishing he would feel less pain.
At age twelve, she knelt before a crowd to plead for him, enduring palm strikes yet sneaking out to tend his wounds.
At age seventeen, she married him in a red wedding gown, her eyes beneath the veil shining like stars.
…
The incense burning in the chamber remained her preferred blend, identical to countless nights when she was alive.
Xie Yujin had seen many corpses.
His father’s, his mother’s, his elder brother’s, his clansmen’s, his soldiers’.
Heads severed, limbs torn apart, bodies missing pieces.
He would merely watch, his gaze growing colder, unmoved by any ripple of emotion.
Song Zhiluan’s body was intact.
Yet his heart had never ached like this—as if a hand were tearing at it, gnawing with fine, persistent pain that spread through every limb and bone.
Xie Yujin lifted Song Zhiluan’s hand and pressed it to his chest. Lowering his head, he saw the stark blood staining his collar.
It seemed to be from him.
He wasn’t wounded—where had this blood come from?
Her hand was ice-cold.
Outside, torchlight dyed the sky crimson. The clatter of hooves, the clash of blades, and screams rose and fell.
Xie Yujin placed the blood-jade from his person into Song Zhiluan’s palm. As he stood, he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood.
His limbs went weak all at once.
As if unaware of what was happening, he half-collapsed before Song Zhiluan.
His blood splattered onto her skirt.
Xie Yujin’s gaze trembled violently. He reached out, wanting to touch the hem of her dress, to wipe away the stains, but the scent of blood grew heavier in his nostrils.
No matter how hard he strained, he could not reach her.
Staring at Song Zhiluan’s profile, a fear unlike any he had known seized him, nailing him in place, freezing him as if plunged into an icy abyss. He gasped for air, yet struggled to breathe.
Bloodshot eyes wide with agony, Xie Yujin mustered his last ounce of strength to gently clasp Song Zhiluan’s hand.
As his consciousness faded, a vision of her seemed to appear.
It was the day Yongzhou fell—when she celebrated his birthday. The night wind shifted, rustling the pagoda trees in full bloom behind her.
["I also wish for Xie Yujin at twenty-four to be invulnerable, safe and sound, and at a hundred years old, still able to wield his sword and dominate the battlefield!"]