A long while later, Huang Bei Shuang finally thought to ask him, “You still haven’t told me how you got up here, or why you came. What are you doing here?” In her heart, she wondered if perhaps he had come for her, but her instincts told her that this man was far from simple.
Qing Yun pulled her to sit beside him on the railing, smiling as he said, “There’s no place in this world that I can’t enter as if it were empty—whether it’s Ruo Wen’s camp, Guang Han Palace, or even your heart.” He spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, domineering and unreasonable.
Yet, to Huang Bei Shuang, his words stirred something deeper within her. Could loving someone truly take away all her pride and dignity? In front of him, her heart felt like a devout pilgrim’s, wholly surrendered in reverence.
That night, Huang Bei Shuang and Qing Yun sat together, playing the flute and talking about the world and its turbulence. Though the night grew cold, he held her in his arms, wrapping her in his outer robe so she never felt a chill. Even the jade flute seemed to warm in their hands. It wasn’t until dawn began to break that Qing Yun quietly left, and Huang Bei Shuang returned to her chambers.
She never did ask why he came here. In her mind, he was always someone who appeared and disappeared like a ghost, impossible to track. As she leaned against her bed, gazing out the window, her thoughts drifted far away…
“Three days from now, I will come see you again.”
Suddenly, she remembered what he had said when he left, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself.
Three days would pass quickly. In three days, he would come to see her again.
Night Pei and the two other maids were tidying up her bed. When they looked up and saw her smiling secretly, they couldn’t resist teasing her. “Consort Frost, if you want to smile, go ahead and smile. But sneaking a smile like that—if the king sees you and asks questions, what will you say?”
Huang Bei Shuang stopped smiling and buried her face under the blankets, her muffled voice scolding, “You girls are getting more and more out of hand! I’m exhausted—I haven’t slept all night. Now leave me alone, and don’t let anyone disturb me!”
The three maids stifled their giggles and quietly left the room.
They stood guard outside the door, filled with amazement. Last night, they had been waiting by the path for Huang Bei Shuang, worried because she had been gone so long. But when they went to check, they were met with a scene that left their hearts pounding—a sight they had never expected. Their usually composed and reserved mistress had been leaning happily in the arms of a man, drinking wine under the moon, playing the flute and discussing swordplay. It was a sight that utterly shocked them.
Yet, when Qing Yun appeared, it was as though they had been expecting it all along. With just one glance between them, they had tactfully stepped back.
There are some things in this world that one waits for, without realizing it.
It can make your reason and emotion stand on opposite sides.
It can make your intelligence and confusion entangle, until, in the waiting,
You forget everything…
A thousand ordinary people have a thousand ways to live. If they make a thousand mistakes, they have a thousand ways to make amends. In this sense, they are lucky, even if they don’t always succeed. At least they don’t err under the scrutiny of the entire world, nor do their mistakes leave a mark like a nail hammered into a wall of history, impossible to remove without leaving a scar, like a fly’s stain, that cannot be erased for a lifetime.
In this regard, Masui was one such example. King Gejin, overconfident and dismissive of foreign invaders, eventually lost a million acres of land and countless subjects. His arrogance was a nail in history. Then there was the trembling Huohe, where King Gucha, weak and indecisive, invited Tiandu’s 50,000 elite cavalry into his kingdom, only to see them seize all the strongholds of his capital in a single night. His narrow-mindedness was another nail. These two kings—one fearing death and surrendering easily, the other fearing defeat and seeking aid from all quarters—both reacted as ordinary people would. Yet fate had destined them to be kings, and after they had enjoyed all the glory and wealth, they ruined their own kingdoms. Even if they regretted it, they could never undo what was done. History would remember them harshly, and they would be scorned for generations. For kings cannot hide from their own shame.
That night, Huohe did not see the return of the heroic Zhan Bie, nor did Yunpei’s famed Red Cavalry arrive. Instead, in silence, under the palace roofs, Tiandu’s banner was raised.
A king knelt before another king.
In Yunpei, the nights grew colder.
Three days later, at nightfall, Huang Bei Shuang sat at the edge of her bed, holding a yellow-green jade ring in her hand. From time to time, she held it up to the candlelight, examining it closely, murmuring, “Zai Ping, look at the clouds inside—it’s so beautiful!” She brought it to her lips and added, “It’s cold, like frost and snow!” She spoke to herself, smiling, as Zai Ping and Dao Qiu washed her feet.
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