At that, Lian Huan seemed to remember something and added, “Na Shou, I’ve always thought that if the oases in the desert weren’t so scattered, if some of them didn’t even move around from time to time, we might not have so many different tribes, and there wouldn’t be so much conflict.”
Huang Bei Shuang smiled at their words. “You two may not be worldly, but you’ve seen your share of life and death, and it seems you’ve been paying attention to some important things after all. I’ve underestimated you. But, Lian Huan, Qing Yi, remember this: as long as I’m living in this palace, as long as I’m still Na Zhan’s woman, you must stop calling me ‘Na Shou.’ From now on, you will address me as Consort Shuang. If someone hears you and spreads rumors, it could create unnecessary trouble.”
Only then did Lian Huan realize his earlier mistake and hurriedly agreed.
Huang Bei Shuang adjusted her clothing and lay back on the soft pillows. Her eyes lingered on the intricate wooden carvings of the bedframe and the sparkling jeweled decorations. For some reason, it all felt like an illusion, filling her with an inexplicable urge. She wanted nothing more than to lie there and never rise again.
Closing her eyes, another question came to mind.
“What do you think of Na Zhan?” Her voice was soft.
Ye Pei gently lowered the silk canopy around Huang Bei Shuang’s bed before speaking. “Your servant thinks that the king is a man of immense ambition. He’s domineering and wields absolute power. The people outside say he wants to unify the entire desert. It seems that’s not just a rumor. What does Consort Shuang think?”
Huang Bei Shuang turned her head slightly, gazing at the shadow of Ye Pei bustling outside the canopy. She sighed softly and said, “How naive we are… I always thought that reaching Yunpei would mean facing an unprecedented disaster. But I never expected this place to be the most peaceful.”
Ye Pei glanced at Huang Bei Shuang, who appeared to be falling asleep. “Is Consort Shuang already asleep?” she asked softly.
Huang Bei Shuang smiled faintly, her lips barely moving. “Looking at someone through a silk veil is like viewing flowers through mist. Beauty isn’t what you imagine, and ugliness isn’t quite what you think either.”
Ye Pei bowed her head slightly toward the bed. “Whenever Consort Shuang says things we can’t quite understand, it’s a sign that something’s coming. But for your servant, as long as I’m with you, nothing else matters. Please rest well, Consort Shuang. Whatever happens, you need a chance to catch your breath. I’ll take my leave for now. Zai Ping and Dao Qiu will take turns watching over you tonight.”
With those words, Huang Bei Shuang truly fell into sleep, her exhaustion finally catching up to her. She had been on edge for so long, carefully treading her path every step of the way. Now, within the palace’s relative calm, she felt more at ease than she had in a long time. As she drifted off, she murmured softly, almost too quietly to be heard: “Let’s just be confidants…”
Huang Bei Shuang slept through the night, only waking in the middle of it, her stomach growling with hunger. She was about to rise and find something to eat when Na Zhan suddenly entered the room effortlessly. Zai Ping and Dao Qiu were kneeling at his side and hadn’t noticed that she was awake.
“Awake?” Na Zhan asked gently as he sat by the bed.
“Yes, just now,” Huang Bei Shuang replied, feeling somewhat uneasy. She knew in her heart that, despite everything, she still couldn’t forget Qing Yun. It wasn’t so much that she needed to forget him, but she felt she shouldn’t let herself be so deeply affected by him. It made it hard for her to let any other man get close to her, and if this continued, even Na Zhan’s patience might wear thin.
“Are you hungry? Zai Ping, go fetch some food for Consort Shuang. She must be starving after sleeping all day,” Na Zhan said, his sudden attentiveness catching Huang Bei Shuang off guard.
Na Zhan noticed the weight on her mind and asked, “Did you look at the book I had Wu Jihai bring to you yesterday?”
Huang Bei Shuang nodded and then asked, “What does Your Majesty want me to do?”
“First, tell me what the ‘Heavenly Secret of a Single Word’ is,” he said.
“Isn’t it obvious? The word is ‘dominate,’” Huang Bei Shuang replied. “The following two lines explain it: Though someone may dominate a region of this vast desert, no one can unify it. One can be a king, but never an emperor.”
Na Zhan smiled in satisfaction. “Do you think I can’t become an emperor?”
“I wouldn’t dare make such assumptions. But since Your Majesty showed me the Heavenly Secret, I assume you agree with its meaning,” Huang Bei Shuang said carefully.
Na Zhan gazed at her, and it seemed as though they were on the verge of reaching a critical understanding.
Within the palace, no snowflake had ever fallen. The deep courtyards were always hurried by visitors, and though past events might be as fleeting as the wind, the memories lingered, gnawing at one’s bones like ants. I’ve always known, I’ve always known: a single word can reveal heaven’s decree. But what I don’t know, what I can’t know: whether following heaven’s will and opposing my own is a road to emptiness and coldness.
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