The Winds and Clouds of the Desert

In the year 331 AD, in the city of Ningdu, within the Kingdom of Yunpei:

It was the winter solstice, marking the Festival of Jiuyou.

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the Palace of Guanghan, which stood like a phoenix bathed in flames. Perched majestically on Mount Chang'e, the palace exuded an ethereal, almost dreamlike quality. The gray stone steps, intricately carved, seemed to press upon each visitor's heart with every step, amplifying their feelings of awe. Standing beside the grand columns of the palace, one could not help but feel overwhelmed by the unspeakable grandeur and solemnity. Since the division of the five kingdoms, Yunpei alone had reached the pinnacle of cultural and artistic achievement. Whether in sculpture, painting, or dance, the kingdom showcased a flourishing prosperity. Under Nazhan's direct rule, this cultural renaissance continued to grow. For the past fourteen years, Nazhan had come to be regarded as a near-legendary figure, akin to an emperor by the people of the southern desert.

Zhanbie stood anxiously before the Hall of Guanghan, his broad and imposing figure attracting curious glances from the two men standing alongside him, both also awaiting an audience. Time seemed to stretch endlessly until, at last, a maid hurried out, bowing respectfully to each of the three.

The three of them immediately bowed and asked in unison, "Where is His Majesty?"

The maid trembled, her expression flustered. After a moment of stammering, she finally replied, "To the three lords, His Majesty is currently in Huayu Palace, admiring the setting sun with Lady Jia."

According to Yunpei tradition, any consort granted a palace title would be recorded in the official histories. This indicated that Zhenqu Youjia's status had risen significantly.

However, this did not deter the three from their determination to meet with the king, especially one among them—an older man with a graying beard but a strong, steady build, clearly a seasoned martial artist. He roared in frustration, "What kind of woman needs His Majesty's company every single day to watch the sunset? Go back again; I will not leave until I see His Majesty today!"

The other two nodded in agreement.

Seeing this, the maid quickly retreated.

It wasn't long before she returned, but this time her face bore a hint of disdain. She stood before the three and said, "General Hua, Lady Jia has a message for you: You are no longer young, you have retired for many years, and should be enjoying peace. Do not rely on your seniority to disturb others, lest you tarnish the reputation you fought so hard to build."

General Hua's face darkened upon hearing this, his white brows furrowing, clearly struggling to maintain his composure in the face of this unabashed insult.

Before the other two could react, the maid turned to Prince Chang. "Prince Chang, Lady Jia says that as a member of the royal family, frequent visits to the inner palace are unwise. Rumors could displease His Majesty and affect your future. Please exercise caution."

The handsome Prince Chang took a step back, his face turning pale.

Zhanbie then anxiously looked at the maid. "What about me? Did His Majesty read my letter?"

The maid glanced at him, bowed slightly, and replied, "Lady Jia says His Majesty will read your letter. The envoy has traveled far and should rest well. After His Majesty has finished admiring the sunset, there will be time for your audience, so please be patient."

Listening to these dismissive words, Zhanbie felt as if he had been struck by lightning. His expression mirrored the embarrassment and helplessness of the two men beside him. His spirit seemed to leave his body as the maid led him away to rest, his mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

From that day forward, Lady Jia of Huayu Palace became a topic of fervent gossip among the people. The "Three Rebukes of Huayu Palace" were frequently discussed in the teahouses and taverns near Ningdu's royal city.

Not long afterward, Huayu Palace became a bustling center of activity, and news of King Nazhan's exclusive favor for Lady Jia spread like wildfire. The rise of one woman soon brought immense benefits to her family. With the support of Yunpei, the southern Zhenqu tribe drove away the Zhiken tribe and claimed a small oasis they had long desired. To Nazhan, however, that oasis held little more value than a bit of dirt beneath his fingernail.

Nazhan favored Lady Jia because she had devoted herself to him entirely. Her purity, arrogance, and unique charm complemented his indulgent nature. Thus, every night he summoned her, and they shared endless passion. It would appear that she was the unrivaled favorite of Guanghan Palace, feared by all. Yet that was far from the truth, for in her heart was a thorn—Huang Beishuang.

The wind blew ceaselessly, but it could not disperse the haunting sound of the flute drifting over Mount Chang'e—so clear, so serene, that even the flowers and grasses seemed to sway in response.

Huaiyue Pavilion, located at the summit of Mount Chang'e, was merely a small four-cornered gazebo. With no walls to block the wind, it was surrounded by swaying grass, and when the sky darkened, the moon offered beauty while the starlight provided solace. During the cold season, with a single cup of ice wine and a song, one could weep away all sorrows.

"Move aside!" The voice carried a cold warning, the speaker's anger barely contained.

Yet the eight guards kneeling on the ground, led by Lianhuan, remained resolute. Three maids hurried over at the sound, fearing that the commotion might disturb their mistress. Yepei greeted them politely, saying, "Greetings, Lady Jia!" The three knelt before her without hesitation, indifferent to the sharp stones that tore through their thin silk garments.

Zhenqu Youjia frowned slightly, visibly annoyed. The noblewomen accompanying her seized the opportunity to flatter her by scolding, "Lady Jia wishes to entertain guests at Huaiyue Pavilion tonight—how dare you servants bar her way!"

However, Yepei remained kneeling, responding calmly, "Please forgive us, Lady Jia. Consort Shuang is currently playing her flute in Huaiyue Pavilion. We ask that you understand her longing for home and consider enjoying the moonlight elsewhere."

Upon hearing this, the noblewomen behind Youjia burst into laughter, and one of them kicked Yepei. Fortunately, Lianhuan acted swiftly, grabbing her to keep her from falling into the roadside grass. Yepei wiped away a trace of blood from her lips and knelt again, her expression indifferent. "Please turn back, Lady Jia," she repeated.

Youjia looked silently at the eleven guards and maids kneeling before her, neither resisting nor speaking further. Throughout the Three Palaces and Six Courtyards, no consort's servants displayed such humility and yet such quiet defiance.

"What nerve! Are you truly determined to block the way? Such insolence! Who is Consort Shuang, anyway? She doesn't even have a palace title, and yet she dares oppose Lady Jia!" one of the noblewomen sneered, emboldened by Youjia's favor. She stepped forward to kick Yepei again, but Lianhuan quickly pulled Yepei away, causing the noblewoman to miss.

"How dare you dodge! You lack discipline!" the woman shouted.

"Who lacks discipline?" A cool voice interrupted, instantly silencing everyone. Huang Beishuang adjusted her robe, as if chilled by the breeze, her slender figure approaching in graceful steps. Just as she was about to speak, she couldn't help but sneeze. Maid Zai Ping quickly took her jade flute, while Dao Qiu draped a fox fur cloak over her shoulders.

"Greetings, Sister Jia." Huang Beishuang smiled faintly, like the moon rising above the treetops, her gentle aura washing away the gaudy splendor of the other women. It took a while before anyone recovered enough to speak, but just as someone was about to lash out, they saw a figure slowly emerge behind Huang Beishuang. Recognizing him, everyone dropped to their knees, Zhenqu Youjia included.

"Long live Your Majesty!" The voices echoed through the mountain valley.

Nazhan looked at Huang Beishuang and said, "Take your rest. We will speak another day."

Huang Beishuang nodded and left without another word, followed by the eleven servants.

That night, silence enveloped the scene. No one spoke until Huang Beishuang had gone far away. Then Nazhan turned to help Youjia up, smiling as he said, "The moon is waiting for you, my beloved." With that, he took her hand, and they ascended the four-cornered pavilion where the flute had played only moments before. Soon, the sound of laughter filled the air.

Beauty often carries a divine grace.

When the moon rose high above, I saw you with the flute, alone, as if about to take flight. Only then did I realize— Amid the vast sea of people, there is no place called paradise. Loneliness had long since become supreme.

The moon seen above Yunpei's oasis was gentle, while the moon seen over the desert plains was veiled by chilly clouds.

Twenty days ago, this place was a desolate wasteland. In merely twenty days, Mangliu's swift actions established a sprawling, low-lying fortress spanning nearly two miles, nestled discreetly between the dunes. It was rarely discovered, and by night, it took on an even more eerie and foreboding presence.

"Your Majesty, our scouts report that the envoy from Guhe arrived in Yunpei three days ago, but Nazhan has yet to officially receive him," a black-clad lieutenant knelt respectfully before the map-covered table, addressing Qingyun.

"Hmph! There's a strong chance that Nazhan will not deploy troops," Qingyun replied, his tone dismissive.

"Why do you say that, Your Majesty?" the lieutenant inquired.

Qingyun smirked. "Nazhan has no true intention of attacking Guhe."

The lieutenant's brow furrowed, his voice heavy with concern. "If not Guhe, then will he strike Yunpei? That would be a bold move—Yunpei is no Masui, and Nazhan's Red Cavalry is certainly no mere band of straw soldiers."

Qingyun set down the beast-hide map and stood. "General Jihua, tonight, you are to lead our forces into Guhe under the guise of reinforcements from Tiandu. If you can achieve a bloodless victory, that would be ideal."

Jihua straightened upon hearing this command and replied, "Rest assured, Your Majesty!" He then turned to leave.

"Wait!" Qingyun called, stopping him in his tracks. Jihua turned back and knelt once more.

"Has there been any activity in Guanghan Palace recently?" Qingyun asked while feigning interest in the map before him, a gesture that seemed almost childlike.

Jihua paused momentarily before replying, "No significant developments, only rumors that Nazhan has been showing exclusive favor to a certain woman, leading to the 'Three Rebukes of Huayu Palace.'"

Qingyun raised an eyebrow. "Which tribe is she from?"

Jihua wondered why the king was interested in Nazhan's personal affairs. Though perplexed, he answered honestly, "It is said she was sent by the Zhenqu tribe."

"Exclusive favor?" Qingyun repeated, an enigmatic smile forming on his lips.

"Yes, that is what they say," Jihua answered, surprised by the king's continued questioning.

Qingyun waved his hand dismissively. "That will be all. You may go."

Jihua withdrew, leaving Qingyun alone, deep in thought. The flickering lamplight reflected in his dark eyes as he pondered.

After a moment, Qingyun's gaze shifted to the map on the table. Upon closer inspection, it was a detailed blueprint of Guanghan Palace, filled with densely written annotations. This was likely one of the first secrets about Nazhan that Ronghuo revealed after his surrender.

Nazhan the man.

In the year 318 AD, the thirty-fourth King of Yunpei, Nanjing, passed away suddenly. His father, the Retired King Na Qida, lay on his deathbed, gazing at his seventeen kneeling grandsons. He chose Nazhan as his successor, secretly bestowing upon him the royal scroll and entrusting him with great responsibility. At the age of nineteen, Nazhan ascended the throne and brought unity to the kingdom. The wise elder of Ningdu conferred upon him the title of King Zhan, along with a couplet: "Blood cannot block fate, nor can rebellion prevent the people's demise."

For thirteen years under King Zhan's direct rule, Yunpei flourished. The solitary king promised to name a queen, capturing the attention of the entire kingdom and encouraging numerous diplomatic marriage proposals.

Huang Beishuang, after returning to the palace that night, did indeed catch a cold. However, she stubbornly refused to rest, instead spending her days digging and planting trees in the courtyard, further weakening herself. Her three maids were extremely worried, but knowing their mistress's temperament, they had no choice but to help her with these tiring tasks.

Huang Beishuang planted twenty-one Xiemashu trees behind her residence, arranging them in the shape of a five-petal flower. Yepei and the others had once asked her what Xiemashu was, to which she merely smiled and said, "When the flowers bloom, you will understand."

That day, she leaned against her bed, reluctantly drinking a bowl of bitter medicine that Zai Ping had handed her, smiling as she shook her head. "What a way to torture your mistress!"

Yepei, her heart aching as she gazed at her mistress's pale face, replied, "Once your health improves, Mistress, you may punish us however you see fit!" She continued to wipe her mistress's sweat with a cloth.

Comfortably leaning against the pillow, Huang Beishuang closed her eyes and asked, "Yepei, do you have something you wish to ask?"

Yepei, knowing her mistress's attentiveness and how she never regarded them as mere servants, spoke frankly. "What is the current relationship between Consort Shuang and His Majesty? After that first night, His Majesty has not summoned you again." On that occasion, Huang Beishuang had declined the king's request, citing her monthly ailment as the reason. She had only intended to buy herself some time, yet Nazhan had not sought her company since.

Huang Beishuang opened her eyes leisurely, gazing at the bed canopy above. "His Majesty is a proud man; I doubt he will make any advances until I willingly embrace him. Compared to romantic escapades with beautiful women, he probably longs for a confidant with whom to share his thoughts."

Yepei nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Wasn't it you who suggested the 'Three Rebukes of Huayu Palace'? Over the past few days, the old general has finally accepted his age and stopped causing a stir among the troops, while Prince Chang has ceased trying to curry favor in the palace. But one thing I still do not understand, Mistress, is why you had the envoy from Yunpei placed under house arrest."

Huang Beishuang sighed. "Had he not been detained, he would have faced a dead end upon his return, having achieved nothing—not even securing an audience with His Majesty."

"Why does His Majesty refuse to send troops?" Yepei asked.

Huang Beishuang pondered for a while before responding softly, "I do not know either. It seems His Majesty is hiding something from me. Information within the palace is scarce, but I suspect some changes are occurring among the five kingdoms. Regardless, our Ennaqi tribe is far to the north and should not be involved."

The following evening, in the palace of Yunpei, a cold wind lingered outside the golden stone gate, whistling through the night.

Nazhan did not summon any consorts, instead inviting Grand General Wu Jihai to his chambers. Together, they toasted with fine wine and played a game of chess.

"Your Majesty, you are a step behind today! I am about to claim victory!" Wu Jihai declared, pointing at the board. Honest as ever, Wu Jihai never fawned over or yielded to the king while playing chess. In truth, such opportunities to win were rare, and today he had seized the advantage. He looked up at Nazhan and asked, "What troubles Your Majesty?"

Nazhan appeared distracted, taking a slow sip of wine before sighing and smiling faintly. "Indeed, I am one step too late. What, then, will be the outcome of this game?"

Hearing the double meaning in his words, Wu Jihai, commander of the 170,000-strong National Guard, fell silent.

Outside, the view consisted of towering mountains, the highest peak revealing the tip of a pavilion. A gust of wind made the air feel even colder as Wu Jihai stood to close the window.

Within Liangyue Pavilion, the jade flute grew cold to the touch, and her figure seemed fragile.

Huang Beishuang sat alone, her eight guards and three maids stationed hundreds of paces away, leaving her in solitude. Her face had regained some color as her health improved. Gazing at the bright moon, she recalled that day—her red wedding robes fluttering like butterflies, and those pitch-black eyes that had shaken her heart so deeply. Whenever she thought of it, her emotions swelled, a throbbing she could hardly suppress. She stopped playing her flute, murmuring unconsciously, "Qingyun..."

"Did you call for me?"

Unexpectedly, Qingyun's deep voice sounded right by her ear, making it impossible to tell if it was real. Huang Beishuang's heart tightened, and just as she was about to turn to see who it was, she was embraced tightly and kissed deeply. Warm lips and tongues intertwined, and as she finally caught sight of the face she had dreamed of countless times, she fell even further into longing. Only after a long while did he release her.

Startled, Huang Beishuang thought she was dreaming, but as she looked around, everything confirmed she was indeed in Guanghan Palace. The wind still blew, and the moon was still bright. She touched her swollen lips. "Heavens, how are you here?"

Qingyun smiled faintly, picking up a piece of pastry from the stone table and taking a bite. "Mmm, not bad."

Huang Beishuang anxiously scanned the surroundings. "You are not from Guanghan Palace! How did you get up here?"

"Oh?" Qingyun murmured, his hand still wrapped around her waist, his other hand gently brushing her cheek, his gaze full of affection. "How do you know I am not of Guanghan Palace?" His voice was hoarse, filled with desire.

"Nazhan is no fool. If you were part of Guanghan Palace, you would be someone highly revered."

"Ha!" He pulled her into his arms. "Are you so sure?"

Her face grew warm, and it felt as though all the yearning and restraint of the past days were a spring tide, unsettling her peace.

"You always make my mind go blank," Huang Beishuang whispered, leaning against his chest, breathing in the unique scent of wine on him. "In front of you, I am not myself."

Qingyun chuckled softly, holding her even tighter. He kissed her passionately once more. She retreated, but he advanced; she fled, and he pursued. No matter how Huang Beishuang tried to evade him, she could not escape his embrace, eventually surrendering until she nearly fainted from the fervor. She closed her eyes, seeing the moon appear even more blurred.

"Then let it be blank forever—let me lead you through life," Qingyun's voice whispered, coming and going in the midst of their entwinement.

They held each other as if neither could bear to let go, even if it meant exhaustion.

After a long time, he finally said with a smile, "Anywhere in the world, I can move as if in an empty space—Guanghan Palace is no exception, nor is your heart." He spoke with absolute certainty, his tone overbearing.

These words touched Huang Beishuang deeply. Could it be that loving someone so ardently could indeed strip away her lifelong pride and dignity? In front of him, her heart truly felt like that of a devoted pilgrim.

That night, she and Qingyun sat together, playing the flute, chatting about the world's affairs until the break of dawn. Only when the first rays of the sun appeared did Huang Beishuang return to her chambers.

She still had not asked how he came to be there. It was as if, in her mind, he was naturally an elusive figure, impossible to trace.

"I will come see you again in three days."

Recalling his words, Huang Beishuang couldn't help but smile.

Seeing her smile to herself again, Yepei and the others quickly reminded her, "Consort Shuang, if you keep smiling like that, His Majesty will notice!"

The previous night, they had waited along the roadside, growing alarmed when Huang Beishuang had not left the pavilion for a long time. They had hurried over, only to witness a scene that made their hearts pound. Qingyun's arrival seemed almost expected, and after exchanging a knowing glance, the three quietly retreated.

There are always certain kinds of waiting that one cannot control.

It can cause your reason and emotion to pull in different directions. It can blur the line between your wisdom and folly. In the end, during that wait, you forget everything...

One thousand mortals have one thousand ways to live. If they each make a thousand mistakes, they have a thousand ways to atone for them. In that sense, they are fortunate, for even if they do not always succeed, at least their mistakes are not condemned by the world, like a nail driven into the white wall of history—whether driven in or pulled out, it leaves a scar like a fly, never to fade.

In this regard, the already-vanquished Masui serves as an example. King Gerjin, who fancied himself far superior, underestimated foreign invaders and ultimately ceded millions of acres and millions of people. His foolishness was a nail. Likewise, the anxious Guhe, with its weak and ineffective ruler, King Gucharu, unguardedly invited fifty thousand Tiandu elite cavalry to strengthen national defense, only to have those troops seize the capital overnight, taking control of every strategic point. His narrow-mindedness was also a nail.

Originally, these two men—one terrified of death, easily surrendering, and the other afraid of losing, desperately seeking help—both exhibited normal reactions for ordinary people. Yet fate had bestowed upon them the mantle of kingship. As they reveled in power and luxury, they simultaneously destroyed their own legacies. Even in regret, there was no turning back. History would record them with disdain, and they would be mocked for eternity, cursed across lifetimes, for a king cannot hide his shame.

That night, Guhe awaited in vain for the hero Zhanbie to return, and also in vain for the renowned Red Cavalry of Yunpei. Instead, quietly, silently, atop the palace roof, the Tiandu banner was raised.

A play was enacted—a king bowing before another king.

In Yunpei, the cold deepened.

Huang Beishuang sat by her bedside, holding a yellow-green jade ring, turning it in the candlelight as she admired it again and again. "There's cloud silk inside—it's truly beautiful!" she murmured, pressing it to her lips. "It's so cold, like frost and snow." She spoke softly to herself, smiling, which amused Zai Ping and Dao Qiu, who were washing her feet.

"It's rare to see you smile like this, Consort Shuang," Zai Ping said with a grin.

"Is Master Qing really coming to the chambers tonight? Isn't it too bold?" Unlike Zai Ping's lightheartedness, Dao Qiu wore a worried expression. Nashou had always been strict and composed, yet tonight she was doing something as clandestine as meeting a lover in secret. Though nothing untoward had happened yet, Nazhan was still her husband. If word got out that Consort Shuang had met her lover in her own chambers, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Huang Beishuang understood Zai Ping's thoughts. In truth, her own heart was filled with anxiety. She knew it was wrong, yet once she thought of that person, she could no longer control herself. Lowering her eyes, she pressed the jade ring even more firmly to her lips for a long, long time.

The moon hung high in the sky, and Zai Ping and Dao Qiu quietly carried the basin out of the room, gently closing the door behind them.

Guarding the door, Lian Huan saw them emerge and stepped forward quickly, asking in a hushed voice, "Has he arrived?"

Dao Qiu smiled, sensing his nervousness. "Not yet. Consort Shuang is waiting, so make sure you don't go in and ruin things."

Lian Huan's hand remained tightly on the hilt of his sword, his brow furrowed in concern. "Who exactly is Master Qing? That night, all of us were stationed on the only path to Huaiyue Pavilion, and no one saw even a shadow of him—how did he get up there? And now, this is the heavily guarded palace of Yunpei. How can he come and go so freely? Doesn't Consort Shuang find it strange?"

It was clear that Dao Qiu shared Lian Huan's concerns. She gave a resigned smile. "Nothing in this world is stranger than love. Never forget, no matter how intelligent Consort Shuang may be, she is still a woman."

Lian Huan only half understood. Though he was a brilliant martial general, he was still a simple man who did not understand matters of the heart. Seeing his bewildered expression, Dao Qiu shook her head and walked away. "Keep watch here, and don't let His Majesty break in. We will wait at the palace gates."

Lian Huan straightened up, responding in unison with the other guards, "We swear to protect Lady Nashou!"

Dao Qiu couldn't help but burst into laughter, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Men are indeed peculiar creatures, she thought.

In Huayu Palace, Youjia leaned against Nazhan's chest. "Your Majesty, you haven't visited me for two days," she murmured softly. Her gentle voice brought the king of Yunpei out of his reverie. Stroking her hair, he said tenderly, "You are with child. Coming here too often might harm you." Touched, Youjia buried her head in his chest. "Don't worry, my dear. I know my own limits. Please, do not worry." Smiling, Nazhan gently pressed her back onto the bed. In the midst of their intimacy, Nazhan's raspy voice whispered faintly, "There is no flute music tonight, either."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Clear footsteps echoed through the dim, lengthy corridor, reverberating between the ornate pillars. Lian Huan's throat tightened, and he immediately grew alert, looking toward the end of the corridor. A shadowy figure slowly emerged, step by step, finally breaking through the gloom like a deity. His eyes were pitch black, unfathomable, long hair draped wildly over his shoulders. His disheveled bangs framed a face marked by rugged sensuality, and with a low chuckle, he made the night feel even more dusky.

"Master Qing!" Lian Huan had only glimpsed him briefly before, but now he could see his face clearly. His grip on his sword trembled as he realized how flustered he had become.

Qingyun glanced at him, but said nothing. Without hesitation, he pushed open the palace door and strode inside. Only when he heard the hollow sound of the door closing did Lian Huan snap back to his senses.

This was Nashou's beloved.

Huang Beishuang lay on her bed, half asleep, still holding the jade ring. Qingyun looked at her in amusement. This woman... she had no sense of vigilance. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips and took the jade ring from her hand. Slowly, she opened her eyes, seeing Qingyun sitting beside her.

"Is this for me?" he asked, toying with the jade ring.

Huang Beishuang leaned gently against his back. "Mm."

Qingyun smiled, lifting her hand to plant light kisses upon it. Huang Beishuang pressed her forehead against his, her bright eyes staring deeply into his. "I'm here," he whispered, pulling at her clothes. The sound of fabric tearing broke the silence. He did not remove his boots; he simply climbed onto the bed, leaving a trail of crimson kisses upon her chest. Huang Beishuang offered no resistance, her delicate hands wandering over his shoulders. His long hair spilled over her body, like a spider's web—so light, and so ticklish.

Supporting himself with one arm, Qingyun held the jade ring with the other, sliding it across her chest. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?" he asked hoarsely.

Huang Beishuang couldn't help but moan, then smiled. "I thought you'd come in through the window, so I kept the cold wind blowing all night."

Unexpectedly, Qingyun's face darkened at her words. He sat up, his expression tinged with anger. "I almost forgot—you are Consort Shuang. In that case, this is nothing more than stealing affection."

Huang Beishuang hadn't expected him to be angry. She adjusted her clothes, sitting up to face him, but couldn't find the words to say.

Qingyun sat silently, his heaving chest betraying his unspoken fury. After a long while, her faint fragrance in the air seemed to soothe him. He finally turned back, lifting her face and leaning in for a kiss.

But at that moment, a loud voice called from outside. "Your Majesty! Consort Shuang is already asleep!"

Rapid footsteps approached, more than one set. Dao Qiu hurried after Nazhan, who was striding forward. Seeing them less than ten paces away, Lian Huan called out in warning.

That shout stopped the kiss, just inches from fruition. Qingyun smiled, pulling the covers over her and stepping out of bed. As he wound the jade ring around his right wrist—the hand with which he wielded his sword—he whispered, "Whatever Nazhan can give you, I can give you too. Tomorrow night, come away with me." With that, he leaped through the window like a thief in the night, leaving Huang Beishuang wrapped in blankets, stunned.

Before she could even process his sudden words, she turned her head to see Nazhan standing at the door.

"Your Majesty!" She pulled the silk quilt higher, refusing to expose even an inch of herself.

"Did I wake you?" Nazhan didn't seem to suspect anything, walking leisurely to her bedside. "Are you feeling better?"

"Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. I am much better now," Huang Beishuang replied cautiously, watching him.

Nazhan glanced at the large open window, seeing the winter moon emerging from the clouds and the bare branches frozen in ice. He frowned. "Why did you leave the window open?"

Huang Beishuang smiled softly. "It is late, Your Majesty. What brings you here?"

Nazhan sat on the edge of the bed. "It's been two days since I last heard your flute. I couldn't get used to it."

Huang Beishuang looked at Nazhan in surprise, unable to read his thoughts. It was neither infatuation nor calculation—merely the loneliness of missing a song on a winter night.

Seeing her remain silent, Nazhan stood up. "Come to my study tomorrow morning. I have something to discuss with you." Then, just as suddenly as he had arrived, he left. The door opened and closed, footsteps fading into nothingness.

That night, it felt as though the depths of a pond under rain—dark, deep... Only ripples met ripples, forming a lotus-like wave.

The next day, as dawn broke, Huang Beishuang, sleepless all night, sat by the window. The golden sunlight gradually painted the frosty window ledge, casting shimmering shadows across the room through the barren wooden beams.

"Who's there?" A shadow flitted past, prompting Yepei to shout in alarm. She leaned out the window to look but saw only the swaying shadows of trees. On the windowsill lay a crumpled piece of paper. Yepei picked it up and handed it to Huang Beishuang.

Without hesitation, Huang Beishuang opened it. On it were hastily scrawled words: "Masui falls, Fentian rises—ask yourself, who shall be king?"

Seeing the words, Dao Qiu and Zai Ping behind her gasped in fear, their hands trembling as they combed her hair. Huang Beishuang sighed, knowing how terrified they were of Ruowen, who had once held them captive.

"Don't be afraid. We are in Yunpei," she reassured them, though unease gripped her own heart. She dared not recall those deep violet eyes of Ruowen.

Standing up, she smiled. "I'm going to see His Majesty. Go have your breakfast."

Nazhan had not slept all night. Since leaving Huang Beishuang's room, he had been sitting in his study, waiting for daybreak and for her to come see him. He looked tired. Hearing the announcement at the door, "Your Majesty, Consort Shuang requests an audience," he let out a sigh of relief. "Let her in," he said, his voice filled with joy.

Huang Beishuang walked in leisurely, seeing Nazhan seated at the table. "Your Majesty, what do you wish to discuss?"

Nazhan seemed surprised by her directness, but smiled before replying. "Come, sit."

The two sat on opposite sides of the long table, just as they had on that first night—both sleepless.

"There are two matters I wish to discuss. Initially, only one concerned you, while the other did not. But now, both are connected to you," Nazhan said, his tone growing colder.

Huang Beishuang thought for a moment before replying, "One of them is about Fentian, isn't it?"

Nazhan was slightly taken aback, then smiled. "You already know? It seems your people extend beyond those eight guards and three maids. I've kept all news of Fentian tightly controlled, forbidding any discussion within the palace."

"Does Your Majesty believe Fentian is connected to me?" Huang Beishuang asked.

"Ruowen has amassed an army of one hundred thousand, stationed in the southern part of Fentian, with a clear intent to invade Yunpei. What do you think Yunpei has that could compel him to march southward, advancing without retreat?" Nazhan paused. "But it doesn't matter—Yunpei is not Masui. If he intends to conquer all forty-two prefectures of Ningguang, he will find it an impossible feat."

Huang Beishuang exhaled quietly, then asked, "What is the second matter?"

Nazhan remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking coldly, "The North Jing King, Huo Qingyun."

Upon hearing those words, Huang Beishuang nearly collapsed. She looked at Nazhan in disbelief, instinctively shaking her head.

Nazhan chuckled. "Judging by your reaction, it seems you had no idea of his true identity! You, who lived in the Northern Desert, didn't even know—his isolationist policy was quite successful."

Huang Beishuang's eyes narrowed, her hand unconsciously moving to her chest, but she still could not calm herself. She could only sit down, taking deep breaths. Qingyun's identity was a shock, but Nazhan's words struck even harder. He had seen what happened last night.

Nazhan turned his head, gazing at the soft morning sunlight outside—a rainbow-like dream. After a while, he said, "Huang Beishuang, what I can offer you, he might not be able to. Look at the table."

Huang Beishuang turned her head to look at Nazhan, then shifted her gaze to the beast-hide map on the table. It was a map of Yunpei, with one area circled in red ink.

"Two million six hundred thousand acres, carved out of the fertile southern province of Yunpei, abundant in water resources and vegetation. I offer it to you, to sustain the 7,700 people of Ennaqi."

Ennaqi was one of the four major slave tribes, totaling 7,700 people. They lived in the ancient oasis of Gulhachi in the Northern Desert, known for their rich history and fame in song and dance. They had long endured harassment from the nomadic tribes of Nakhor, living in extreme poverty.

Naturally, what Nazhan was offering was nothing short of a divine blessing for Ennaqi. If they could truly move to that land, it would mean acquiring citizenship and the fertile soil they had always dreamed of. There would no longer be prayers sung by the women, no more lives lost to shifting sands and fierce winds. Huang Beishuang's mind went blank—she couldn't make any judgment.

"Your Majesty, why do you go to such lengths to keep me here?" she asked after a long silence.

Nazhan let out a self-deprecating laugh, knowing that the beautiful woman before him was starting to consider his offer. Pleased, he replied, "I am a man who believes in destiny. By custom, you should have formed a marriage alliance with Tiandu, the closest to your tribe, but Qingyun closed his borders, refusing all marriage requests. Thus, you came to Yunpei. Along the way, not even someone as formidable as Ruowen could stop you from reaching my side. Isn't that fate? And I need your help."

Huang Beishuang smiled faintly upon hearing this. The greater the country, the longer its history, the more its people seemed to believe in the will of heaven. But why? Turning her head back, she regained her usual composure, speaking calmly, "Your Majesty, even if I stay, it doesn't mean I can stop him from marching south. What's more, I may very well betray you. Isn't this wager too dangerous?"

Nazhan gave a bitter smile. "If I had the luxury of time, I wouldn't be making such a gamble."

Huang Beishuang frowned. "Your Majesty?"

Nazhan looked at her, his hand gently touching her face. She instinctively shuddered. "Do you love him?" he asked.

"Would my love affect your wager?"

Nazhan's lips turned cold, his voice raspy, "No."

Huang Beishuang withdrew slightly, letting his hand fall to the air. "Love."

Nazhan abruptly stood. "Then I shall never touch you." With that, he turned and left.

Behind him, Huang Beishuang's quiet voice echoed, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Winter had truly arrived—so cold, as if frost and snow had seeped into her bones. No matter how many clothes she wore, no matter how much wine she drank, the cold persisted—piercing and unrelenting. Huang Beishuang looked at the map in her hands. The blood-red circle seemed like a snare, trapping her inside, forcing her to remember why she had come to Yunpei, reminding her of that love that came so quickly, so unexpectedly.

That morning, as the rare winter sun bathed the land in light, the sorrowful sound of a flute rang out—awakening the drowsy beauty Youjia, stirring the twenty-one newly sprouted Qishu trees in the courtyard, but failing to rouse the heart of the person playing.

The melancholy tune of Guanghan's flute, How often has it sighed through wind and rain; But why hold onto such love, etched deep, When warmth and coldness can never stay in harmony?

The sound fades,

the dream awakens,

A shadow leans into the chilly night.

The wind of Guanghan rises with the flute,

And at every meeting,

there is parting;

A sorrowful song,

sung in sorrow,

Tears fall again—there's no forgetting.

The sky vast, the earth empty,

Only the flute's sound can ease the pain,

A kiss that falls into emptiness,

a love that cannot be fulfilled.

...—"Falling Flute"

Qingyun, will you be sad? Even if you are not, I will be.