Logline: After dying alongside her newborn child when her husband, the Emperor of the enemy nation Ning, destroys her homeland Qi, Princess Qin Yan is given a chance to rewrite her fate. Reborn on her coming-of-age day, she vows to avoid her tragic destiny and reunite with the enigmatic scholar who once stole her heart. But the threads of fate are tangled, secrets abound, and the Emperor she fears seems strangely familiar.

Chapter 1: The Leap

I carried the child of the enemy prince within me.
On the day I gave birth, Chu Suizhi arrived with his legions and personally destroyed my homeland.
Standing before Chu Suizhi, I clutched our child and leaped from the city walls.
Yet, I awoke again. I had returned to the day of my hair-pinning ceremony, my maid Tangli cheerfully addressing me as “Legitimate Princess.”
This time, I vowed never to become Chu Suizhi’s Empress of Ning, and never to be parted from Wen Ziye again.

Prologue

My eyes opened upon a vast river, a ferryboat faintly visible upon its misty surface. Beneath my feet bloomed endless white flowers.
I recalled Wen Ziye once telling me that after death, one arrives at the mist-shrouded, white Datura-covered banks of the Wangchuan River, the River of Oblivion. If burdened by unresolved attachments from a past life, one could choose not to cross the river’s boundary. Instead, turning and walking in the opposite direction offered a chance to return to where those attachments began.
Back then, I had asked him, “Wouldn’t everyone want to go back?”
Wen Ziye closed the storybook, gently smoothing a strand of my hair with his fingertip, his voice cool and clear like mint leaves. “No,” he said, his gaze distant. “Not everyone can bear the truth behind their attachments. And not everyone has the courage to turn back.”
“And you?” I had challenged, looking up at him. “Would you dare?”
Wen Ziye glanced at me, an expression of mock disdain crossing his features. “What attachments could I, Wen Ziye, possibly have? At most, others might be attached to me. What concern is that of mine?” He spoke with that infuriatingly smug air, somehow perfectly blending sarcasm and gentleness.
The memory faded abruptly. A shiver ran through me; the place was bitterly cold, like an ice cave. So, I was truly dead? I couldn’t recall my name, nor how I died. But I remembered Wen Ziye’s face, his voice, the curve of his lips when he smiled.
Suddenly, I longed to see him just once more. Resolutely, I turned my back on the Wangchuan River and walked away.
Instantly, a blinding light enveloped me. Countless images flashed before my eyes: the face of my beloved Wen Ziye, the stern visage of my father the Emperor, the sweet, childish face of my maid Tangli… and Chu Suizhi, Crown Prince of Ning, later Emperor of Ning, my husband – his face.
I remembered.
I was Qin Yan, Legitimate Princess of Qi. On the day I bore Chu Suizhi’s child, he led his armies and destroyed Great Qi, my homeland.
A tear rolled down my cheek. Then, darkness.

Chapter 1: Reawakening

A familiar yet strange voice chirped in my ear, “My Princess, Princess! The green grape pastries with warmed wine will be ruined if they get cold!”
The fog and darkness dissipated. My vision cleared, revealing a youthful, smiling face framed by twin buns, dressed in a simple yet lively green dress.
“…Tangli?” I managed.
“Right here!” Tangli beamed. “It’s your hair-pinning ceremony today! Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
I gasped. “Hair-pinning ceremony?”
Tangli reached out to feel my forehead. “Hmm? Is my Princess still half-asleep? Just last night you insisted on having green grape pastries the moment you woke! Look, I’ve prepared them!” She gestured towards the plate.
Staring at the pastries, I froze for a few seconds before the realization struck.
It was the thirty-ninth year of Emperor Qiren’s reign! Today was my fifteenth birthday, the hair-pinning ceremony for Qin Yan, Legitimate Princess of Qi! The mountains and rivers of Great Qi still stood. It was one year before I would become Chu Suizhi’s Empress of Ning. And today… today I would meet Wen Ziye!
I had truly been reborn!

Part I: Meeting Joy

I finished the green grape pastries and drank half a cup of fine wine. Tangli helped me out of the Princess’s residence. The day was bright and clear, the streets bustling with people, workshops humming with peaceful activity. My father, Emperor Qiren, had declared a general amnesty to celebrate his legitimate daughter’s coming of age.
According to Qi tradition, palace guards escorted a princess on her fifteenth birthday to the Yue Shen Temple outside the palace to pray for Qi’s prosperity and good fortune in the coming year, and also for her own auspicious marriage.
In my past life, I chattered with Tangli the entire journey in the palanquin. This time, I sat quietly, eyes closed, meditating. Tangli fidgeted nervously, glancing everywhere as if sitting on pins.
Seeing her, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop moving! Let me rest!”
Tangli sighed with relief. “This servant thought the Princess was unhappy.”
I lifted the palanquin curtain slightly, a smile touching my lips. “Nonsense. I couldn’t be happier.”
At Yue Shen Temple, the crowd was dense. Tangli had barely helped me step down when I couldn’t resist looking around. Less than half an hour remained before I would encounter Wen Ziye.
Moving with the throng, I walked with measured steps, my eyes scanning for that familiar figure.
Then, a flash of moonlight-white robes passed before me. There he was again, the boy I had yearned for day and night. I knew he would be here, yet seeing him in the flesh felt unreal.
As before, Wen Ziye wore a white bamboo hat, its veil obscuring his face. He walked with his head down against the crowd, seemingly trying to avoid notice. His silhouette beneath the gauze was faint yet still dazzling. What had those romance novels Tangli and I secretly read described? ‘Tall and graceful, clear and upright’ – it perfectly captured the figure before me.
Suddenly, Wen Ziye lifted his gaze. Our eyes met for a fleeting instant. I held my breath, nearly crying out his name. But he merely lowered his eyes impassively and continued pushing through the crowd, leaving only an unfamiliar back.
I inwardly laughed at myself. Qin Yan, Qin Yan, how could you almost forget? He doesn’t know you yet.
Tangli’s voice pulled me back. “Princess, Abbot Xunyin awaits inside.”
I walked alone into the temple depths. The pebble path was flanked by dense bamboo groves, birds occasionally chirping. Pushing open the ancient wooden door, I saw Abbot Xunyin lighting incense. Hearing me enter, he smiled faintly but didn’t pause.
“Welcome back, Princess Pingyang.”
I was startled but remembered my manners, performing a respectful bow. “Qin Yan greets Abbot Xunyin. May I ask what the Abbot meant by ‘welcome back’? Have we met before?”
In my past life, I knew Abbot Xunyin well. But this time, it should be our first meeting. Why had his greeting changed?
Abbot Xunyin fingered his prayer beads, speaking slowly. “The Buddha teaches: Matters of self-crossing, past causes and effects, the rise and fall of fate… are without fixed pattern and cannot be spoken of.”
I was even more confused but followed the abbot dutifully through the prayers. Kneeling on the cushion, I silently prayed: Bless the people of Qi, grant Great Qi lasting peace. Shield us from strife, power struggles, and bloodshed. Protect Qi, grant favorable weather and prosperity. After repeating it thrice, I kowtowed and took my leave.
Exiting the temple courtyard, I immediately took a shortcut through the bamboo grove towards the remembered location. My first meeting with Wen Ziye had been accidental. Lost in the bamboo forest, I’d stumbled into a dead end where masked men in black surrounded an extraordinarily beautiful youth. That youth, wearing a hat and robes of moonlight white, his hair half-tied with strands brushing his ears, looked like a painting. My arrival distracted the men, and he seized the chance to break free. Before I knew it, he had grabbed my hand, pulling me into a frantic run. We hid beneath a bridge until my father’s secret guards found us late that night.
Knowing the path, repeating it seemed both simple and complex. Seeing the dark figures in the dead end, my relief outweighed my fear. The men turned, spotting me just as before. But…
Where was Wen Ziye?
Behind the black-clad figures, the space was empty. No Wen Ziye. No one at all!
I stared blankly. No time to ponder! A princess’s life couldn’t end on the first step of her rebirth! I turned and ran, my mind screaming only one word: Run!
Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun!
The bewildered assassins exchanged glances, then immediately gave chase. Though I wasn’t their target, they couldn’t leave a witness alive. As I ran, I puzzled over what had gone wrong. Distracted, my foot caught on a protruding bamboo shoot. I stumbled and fell, my fine silk robes tearing on sharp stones. Thankfully unhurt, but the pursuers were nearly upon me.
I couldn’t escape. I closed my eyes, tears rolling down. So unfair! I hadn’t done anything yet, hadn’t even spoken to Wen Ziye again, and I was to die here?
Thud! A pained grunt sounded behind me, followed by a heavy fall. My eyes snapped open. Standing before me, impossibly close, was a figure in white.
Wen Ziye held a slender iron sword, its sharp blade gleaming silver, stained with fresh blood. Drops fell to the ground, coloring the scattered bamboo leaves.
“Not getting up? Kneeling here waiting to be chopped?” A voice laced with impatience, the disdain undisguised, came from above me. Yet, I was overjoyed to the point of tears.
I looked up into Wen Ziye’s refined face. His inner robe was stained, yet he appeared clean and pure, like an immortal. Without a thought for propriety, I grabbed the hand not holding his sword, using his strength to stand.
“Th-thank you, Young Master.”
Wen Ziye glanced at me but didn’t shake me off. “Can you run?”
“Yes,” I bit my lip, nodding.
Hearing the footsteps of the other assassins approaching, he wasted no time. Gripping my hand firmly, he pulled me onto a smaller path. “Follow me! Run! If you want to live, don’t look back!”

Part II: Life and Death Line

Amidst rustling bamboo and babbling streams, the sound of our running footsteps intertwined. Our first meeting, life hanging by a thread, the shared experience of being hunted – finally began to align with my past memory. Dusk was falling as Wen Ziye pulled me out of the forest, miles from where Tangli and the guards waited.
Gasping for breath, I finally saw the remembered river and the dilapidated bridge. “Can you swim?” Wen Ziye asked.
“Not well, but I can manage,” I panted, exhausted. “Are we jumping in to escape?”
“No need. There’s a hole beneath the ruined bridge. It’s a blind spot; you can’t see it from above. Jumping is a last resort.” He hesitated briefly. “Apologies for the impropriety.” Before I could react, he scooped me up. Instinctively, my arms circled his neck.
His eyebrow arched slightly. “You’re quite adept at taking liberties, Princess, with no regard for propriety.”
“It’s an emergency—!” I protested, but he ignored me, leaping lightly onto a platform beneath the broken bridge, just before the cave entrance. I scrambled in first. Wen Ziye followed, using loose stones to partially block the opening. Footsteps pounded overhead. I heard muffled shouts – “Jumped?” – and angry curses. Then, silence.
My gaze wandered and finally settled on Wen Ziye. For some reason, I giggled. In my past life, consumed by being Chu Suizhi’s gentle, dignified Empress, I’d lost my true self. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like this. Seeing Wen Ziye again, the mischievous princess cherished by her parents seemed to reawaken.
Wen Ziye, about to adjust something, froze at my laughter, looking at me with disbelief and exasperation. “Just escaped death, witnessed bloodshed, hiding here not knowing if we’ll see tomorrow’s sun… and you can laugh? The Princess truly has refined tastes.”
“I dare not claim that,” I said, realizing my impropriety. After all, this Wen Ziye didn’t know me. “We met by chance. Young Master saved me, a great kindness. Yan’er thanks you deeply. I shall repay you handsomely.”
Wen Ziye merely raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“…And might I ask the Young Master’s name?” I pressed.
He looked at me. “Young Master is too grand. Wen Ziye.”
“Qin Yan.”
Wen Ziye tilted his head. “The Pingyang Princess of Qin?” He’d asked this last time. “Indeed, it is this Princess,” I replied, playing my part. “Since I’ve inconvenienced you today, Wen Ziye, please tell me where you reside. Once we’re safe, I shall send my gratitude.”
“So certain we’ll get out?” He chuckled softly. “Those men might return. Truly, a princess raised in luxury, so naive.” How could someone with such a gentle face have such a sharp, annoying tongue!
“Of course I’m certain! My father will have already sent his secret guards.” I spoke confidently only because I’d lived it before. Wen Ziye was silent for a moment. “I am newly arrived. I have no fixed abode here. I’ve… offended the wrong people. Those men were after me. Saving you wasn’t out of kindness; I merely didn’t want an innocent dragged in. In truth, I dragged you into danger.”
I cleared my throat. “No talk of dragging down. Since fate brought us together today, I shared your danger, you saved me. We’re even.”
Wen Ziye looked up slightly. “Hmm?” The setting sun bathed the horizon in brilliant orange, a huge disk sinking behind him, gilding the edges of his plain white robes. The river shimmered. His hat lay aside. Gazing at his gentle features and profile, just like before, my eyes uncontrollably misted. What had I missed in my past life?
Softly, I spoke: “Then… if we do get out… Wen Ziye, will you come back to the palace with me?”
Tears welled in my eyes as the sound of hoofbeats echoed overhead. Tangli had arrived with the guards and my father’s secret forces.

Part III: Chu Suizhi

Back at the Pingyang residence, seeing Wen Ziye still present, I sighed in relief. He was grinding ink when I entered. Sensing my presence, he didn’t look up immediately but offered a faint smile. That smile truly made the sun and moon shine brighter. Such a radiant, jade-like young gentleman.
“Do you often write in the palace?” he asked.
I puffed out my cheeks. “My handwriting is ugly.” In the past, I only knew a little of the ‘Slender Gold’ style. But my good handwriting now was entirely thanks to Wen Ziye’s teachings in my past life. If I said I couldn’t write now, wouldn’t I miss a perfect chance to get closer? My father had taught me the strict, upright ‘Slender Gold’ style, believing smaller script styles were inelegant. Yet, under Wen Ziye’s brush, the flowing smaller characters on the paper possessed a unique charm.
I expected him to offer instruction. Instead, he placed his brush on the inkstone. “Ah, then I won’t write either.”
“…?” Confused but unwilling to push, I found this deviation from the past script unsettling. I recalled Chu Suizhi’s excellent seal script after our marriage, which made my own writing seem clumsy. He would comfort me, “The Empress’s smaller script is the most beautiful. Did Emperor Qiren teach you?” I had almost forgotten – Chu Suizhi was extremely gentle. Had he not destroyed my homeland, I might have learned to love him. But there were no ‘ifs’.
The maple leaves outside Pingyang County blazed brilliantly red, vast green mountains gradually cloaked in yellow and brown. When I stepped out, Wen Ziye stood holding a horse – a magnificent chestnut steed with a glossy mane. It snorted as I approached. Wen Ziye stroked its head, smiling warmly at me. “Would the Princess care for a ride beyond the city?”
I couldn’t suppress my excited grin. “I want to go to the highest peak and see the reddest maples!”
Tangli jumped up behind me. “Princess! Remember to come back early!” Yes, I needed to be back early. Since this hadn’t happened before, I didn’t know what might occur. In my past life, Wen Ziye and I had stayed in Pingyang, exploring, playing, carefree. This time, the person was the same, but many details had changed. Yet, I knew Wen Ziye was Wen Ziye. That was enough.
Wind rustled through the mountain forest, hooves clattering on the stony paths. The chestnut horse galloped across the crimson-tinged horizon. Wen Ziye, still in white robes, usually resembled a benevolent celestial official; now, he looked dashing and heroic. When he lifted his gaze, a thought struck me. In terms of sheer looks, Chu Suizhi surpassed Wen Ziye. In my memory, Chu Suizhi always wore robes of black embroidered with gold thread, his hair tied back, a pale green jade thumb ring on his finger. I forcibly cut off the recollection. Why think of him?
Darkness fell faster than expected. The first arrow grazing the horse’s belly shattered the illusion of peace. In my past life, I never learned where Wen Ziye went or who he had angered before his death. I had died… too soon, far too soon. Did the Wen Ziye of that life ever know I married Chu Suizhi and witnessed my country’s fall? This rebirth seemed determined to unveil the truths I died without knowing.
The chestnut horse ran fast, but the seven or eight dark mounts behind us kept pace, less than a hundred yards away. Arrows flew intermittently. Wen Ziye, an expert horseman, guided the horse so the arrows only grazed its belly without spooking it.
“Capture them alive! Half-dead will do!” a hoarse, arrogant voice yelled from behind. “And that little beauty we saw last time! Pretty face and figure! Catch her for us to play with!” I felt Wen Ziye’s grip on me tighten sharply.
In my past life, I would have cried in terror. This time, though terrified, I bit my lip and stayed silent, refusing to burden Wen Ziye. But a moment’s distraction was enough. A pained whinny came from behind, followed by a heavy thud. “Aaaaah!” An agonized scream ripped through the air. Despite expecting it, the sound jolted me.
Wen Ziye’s voice whispered near my ear, “Don’t be afraid, Yan’er. Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I won’t let Yan’er be hurt.” I pressed closer into his embrace, holding back tears. His words, meant to comfort, nearly made me cry. Yan’er – that was what he called me in the past life. After five long years, I heard it again.
Though the horse was swift, the assassins flanked us, forcing us towards a dead end: a sheer cliff face, thousands of feet high. No escape.
“Yan’er,” Wen Ziye said, “close your eyes.” I obeyed instantly. Despite the mortal danger, my heart felt strangely calm. With eyes closed, the wind and horse’s breathing were clearer. Wen Ziye’s scent was comforting, reassuring. Then came the sounds: bodies hitting the ground, blades piercing flesh, bones cracking, blood splattering on fabric… each distinct. The scene felt surreal, like my coronation day when assassins struck and Chu Suizhi shielded me, blood soaking the three thousand stone steps. Doubtless, when Chu Suizhi destroyed my homeland, when Tangli broke and followed me in death, the land of Qi had been drenched in just as much blood. The thought twisted my heart.
Silence followed, broken only by the horse’s hooves. I opened my eyes. “Wen Ziye?”
“Hmm.” He stroked my head as he guided the horse downhill. “Yan’er, we’re safe. We’re going back. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you out today.” I tried to speak, but no sound came, the delayed shock and fear overwhelming me.
The horse stopped at the Pingyang residence gate. Tangli rushed out to greet us and immediately gasped. “Princess! Why is there so much blood?” At that moment, Wen Ziye slumped forward and fell straight off the horse.

Part IV: River of Oblivion

Inside the residence, I held Wen Ziye as his body grew colder, a chilling reminder I might lose him again. No! Impossible! Absolutely not!
“Wen Ziye! Hold on! Don’t you dare die! Do you hear me?” I sobbed uncontrollably. Wen Ziye lifted a hand, wiping the tears from my cheek, chuckling weakly.
“Just tired. Not dying. Why cry? Princess Pingyang… could it be you fancy me? I shed a little blood, want to sleep, and you cry with worry?” For a moment, I was stunned, skipping over his question, focused only on relief. “Wen Ziye, you… you’re really alright?”
The imperial physician entered then. I asked no more, yielding my place by the bed, going to the kitchen to tell Tangli to prepare food. If his mouth was that sharp, he was probably fine.

Late that night, the moonlight bright, I was preparing for bed when a shadow flickered past my window. Alert, I moved to call Tangli at the door, but Wen Ziye climbed in through the window instead.
I jumped. “Your wounds are barely healed! What are you doing?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d find someone interesting to amuse me,” he smiled. “Got any wine?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t give it to you! Who do you think you are? I, a Princess, amuse you?” My temper flared, and I tried to push him out.
Tangli’s voice sounded at the door. “Princess? Did you call? This servant heard a noise but couldn’t make it out.” Instinctively, I covered. “It’s nothing. You may go.”
Wen Ziye looked at me, amused. “Princess was just pushing me away. Now that someone asks, you don’t want me gone?” Ignoring his flippancy, I sat at a small table and poured a cup of Li Ren Zui wine. “I’ve been meaning to ask… who exactly did you anger? Where are you from? What will you do now? Wen Ziye… today, after getting off the horse, I realized something: I know nothing about you.”
Wen Ziye closed his eyes briefly and sat beside me. He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked up at the moon. “Back then… why did you agree to come with me? We barely knew each other.” This third question was what I truly wanted to ask. Was it because I was pretty? Impossible.
Wen Ziye laughed. “Because Yan’er is beautiful.”
I bristled. “You rogue! Pretending to be refined, writing beautifully, skilled in martial arts!” Wen Ziye’s smile faded this time. “Yan’er… the red maples in Ning… are even more vibrant than in Qi.”
“Hmm?” I caught the implication. “Wen Ziye… so you are from Ning?”
He didn’t answer, changing the subject abruptly yet smoothly. “Yan’er, do you know of the Wangchuan River?”
“What?” My heart skipped a beat. I turned sharply to look at him, but he seemed perfectly relaxed.
“The Wangchuan River. It appears after death, but only rarely. My aunt said it’s covered in white flowers. If you don’t board the ferry, but turn and walk back, you get a chance to live your life again.” A chill ran down my spine.
Again! Again! These words existed, but their timing never matched my memories!
“It’s probably just a tale for children,” he continued, his eyes soft. “But seeing this moon, I think of my late mother. If it were you… would you turn back?”
I was silent, then gave a different answer from my past life. “Probably not. Dead is dead. Why go back? What’s the point? There are no regrets in life. Birth, aging, sickness, death – it’s the natural way. What meaning is there in a do-over? If it were me, I’d board that ferry peacefully, drink Granny Meng’s soup at the King of Hell’s court, then stride boldly into reincarnation… to meet the people I’m meant to meet. Isn’t that right? What’s the point in defying heaven’s laws?”
I spoke passionately, realizing my throat was dry. I picked up a cup and drank. Setting it down, I saw Wen Ziye gazing at me, his eyes filled with infinite tenderness, as if looking through me into my soul.
“I think so too,” Wen Ziye said, pouring himself a cup and downing it. “Nothing worth going back for. The past is the past.” Wen Ziye seemed to have a low tolerance for alcohol. After only three or four cups of Li Ren Zui and Gan Ge Grape Wine, his eyes grew unfocused. His tone softened; when chatting, he no longer deliberately needled me with sarcasm. We talked from Qi to the borderlands, to our first meeting, that life-or-death encounter.
Wen Ziye said something that day I remember still. “Yan’er… that day under the bridge, after the black-clad men left, you looked at me and giggled. That laugh… it nearly killed me. I’d rather be chased by assassins again than see you laugh like that.”
“Why?” I asked, curious.
“Because it drains all my strength. Makes me forget how to speak.” He smiled again. With a smile like that, if he ever rode through Pingyang, maidens would surely shower him with favors from every balcony.
I feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”
Wen Ziye smiled. “Let me give the Princess something, alright?”
I was taken aback. The path had diverged again. In my past life, Wen Ziye had never given me anything. He drew a jade bracelet from his sleeve. It was exquisite, the color of amber, incredibly clear and undoubtedly priceless.
“This bracelet is one of a pair. My mother left one to me and one to my elder sister. I give you mine.”
Unprepared for this in my past script, I was confused. “What meaning does it hold?”
“Not much. It’s pretty. For the Princess to wear.” His eyes were clear. “I used to think, after my mother passed, that my sister wearing it must be the most beautiful sight. Turns out I was young, ignorant, inexperienced. Good thing I left home to see the world.”
“What do you mean?” I tilted my head up. He was much taller than me; I felt quite small. He curved his eyes at me, avoiding the question.
“Though the journey was perilous… it was worth it.” Wen Ziye closed his eyes, speaking slower. “This bracelet… it’s only passed to the women of the Wen family. Do you understand, Princess?”

Part V: Sigh of Parting

I slept poorly that night, feeling something was amiss. In my past life, Wen Ziye and I had been together for months before pledging ourselves. Why give me his family heirloom so soon this time? I knew he was Wen Ziye – his looks, personality, words were unchanged. Only the timing was wrong.
Coincidentally, my father held a banquet at the palace. I returned to the capital early the next morning and didn’t come back for half a month. I told my father I had found someone I loved. Wen Ziye’s origins were unclear. Though my father was furious, he couldn’t refuse me. He demanded I bring Wen Ziye to the palace for an audience.
On the way back to Pingyang, Tangli mentioned that the residence guards had shot down a messenger pigeon the night before, though they couldn’t find the body or the message. I paid little heed; pigeons flew over Qi skies constantly. The residence guards, for security, often mistakenly shot down birds belonging to commoners.
I crossed the threshold excitedly, brushing aside the servants’ help. “Wen Ziye! Wen Ziye!” I pushed open the door. The room was empty. The wind rustled the bead curtain. For a moment, I thought he’d appear behind me, looking disdainful and sarcastic: “Shouting what? I’m right here!” But he didn’t.
Once more, despite my reluctance to dwell on it, the time discrepancy proved real. Wen Ziye had vanished from the world again, before the time he left me in my past life. Tangli swore he was there the night before. How a living person could disappear so silently was a mystery.
I finally left Pingyang and returned to the palace, drifting through the days in a daze. I remembered my father calling me to his side. “Yan’er… do you still think of that Wen Ziye?”
I knelt. “Your Majesty… this unfilial daughter begs forgiveness.” My father sighed, a long, deep sigh. “Go.”
Lately, I kept dreaming. Sometimes Chu Suizhi was on horseback, screaming my name in anguish. Other times, Wen Ziye smiled, wearing white robes and a bamboo hat, gentle as jade. But the constant figure was Abbot Xunyin. Fingering his prayer beads, he spoke deliberately: “A love tribulation of fate, unavoidable; thoughts and causes of karma, unspeakable.”
Another half-month passed before I understood my father’s profound sigh. Tangli told me this morning: Princess Anding of Ning was soon arriving in Great Qi. I sat on the couch, stunned for a long time.
Princess Anding of Ning had a beautiful name: Chu Suiling. Chu Suiling was Chu Suizhi’s elder sister, Ning’s Eldest Princess. Her fame spread far and wide, not for beauty or birth, but because she was a woman who had fought in battles. Her title ‘Anding’ (Peaceful) was earned on the battlefield. In my past life in Ning, we got along well. Honestly, Chu Suiling was forthright and heroic; I liked her.
But her arrival in Qi meant Ning had come to seek a marriage alliance. The timing was earlier than I remembered, but I was used to the shifts now. Thinking about it was useless. Abbot Xunyin’s words from my dream echoed… Could I still avoid it this time?

Part VI: Half-Life Mistake

Ning sent envoys to strengthen diplomatic ties. Qi hosted a grand banquet. Amidst the toasts and performances, I observed Chu Suiling through the dancers. She was as beautiful as I remembered.
Tangli whispered beside me, “Princess, they say the Ning royal family possesses a secret art. Do you know what it is?”
“I don’t,” I nibbled a green grape pastry. “Tangli, hush. It’s our first time meeting Princess Anding. Don’t let others think us ill-mannered.” “Yes, Princess.”
I was curious too. The Ning royal secret was well-known, though its nature remained mysterious. Even after a year of marriage in my past life, I never learned what it was. Chu Suizhi never told me, and I never asked.
Thinking of Chu Suizhi, I drifted off. Looking up, I met Chu Suiling’s gaze. She smiled. “Somehow, I feel an instant kinship with Princess Pingyang. As if we’ve met before.” I stood and bowed. “Yan’er greets Princess Anding.”
“No need for such formality,” Chu Suiling gestured for me to sit, then addressed my father. “May I ask, Your Majesty, how old is Princess Pingyang this year?” The question hung like an alarm bell. Everyone turned to me, except my father. He simply said, “My daughter has just reached her fifteenth year.”
Chu Suiling bowed slightly again. “Seeing Princess Pingyang’s stunning beauty and graceful spirit, I feel compelled to make a request. My journey to Qi serves another purpose.”
“Speak, Princess,” my father nodded. My fingers dug into my palms beneath my sleeves.
“As all here know, Ning recently mourned its Emperor. Our Crown Prince, having barely returned from his required travels, ascended the throne amidst instability. With the neighboring state of Chu eyeing us greedily, our new Emperor led his forces and extinguished Chu within half a month.”
My father nodded. “A testament to the Ning Emperor’s extraordinary talent.” I knew this, though it was unexpected. In my past life, Chu still existed when I died and had been friendly with Qi. Now, Chu Suizhi had destroyed it immediately upon taking power.
Chu Suiling paused. “Extraordinary talent is high praise. The Emperor is still young; to me, he’s just my younger brother, and I worry for him constantly. Ning enjoys peace and prosperity now, but the court lacks an Empress. He is nineteen.” My father remained silent, signaling her to continue. She spoke clearly, “Therefore, as Ning’s representative envoy, I formally request the hand of Qi’s Legitimate Princess, Qin Yan, to become Empress of Ning. Might Princess Pingyang be willing?”
Silence. I wanted to leap up and shout No! But my father spoke first. He coughed lightly. “Let us pause here today, Princess Anding. I have many sons, but only one daughter. Her husband must be of her own choosing. To decide such a lifelong matter in one sentence is too hasty. The Ning Emperor is undoubtedly distinguished, but such a decision requires my Yan’er’s careful consideration.”
“It was presumptuous of me,” Chu Suiling conceded. “Then let us await Princess Pingyang’s decision.” After Chu Suiling retired, my father looked at me deeply. “Yan’er… you do not wish this?”
Before I could answer, the Left Chancellor stepped forward. “Princess! This old minister dares to speak bluntly: this alliance marriage is unavoidable!” The Right Chancellor followed. “This minister concurs! Ning has destroyed Chu, who was once our ally! Moreover, Princess Anding is a battle-hardened general. Why would Ning send her for diplomacy? Their intent is clear!” “This minister concurs!” “This minister also concurs!” “Princess, think of Great Qi!” The chorus swelled like a tidal wave. I suddenly understood my father’s deep look, his long sighs these past days. They were apologies. Farewells. He was afraid! Everyone was afraid! They feared Ning! They feared Chu Suizhi! For in all history, no new emperor had ever dared to destroy a neighboring state immediately upon ascending, let alone succeeded! But Chu Suizhi had dared! And succeeded! How could they not fear?
For fifteen years, I had lived as a precious blossom, coddled in silk and jade. The title ‘Legitimate Princess’ had never weighed so heavily. I always thought it just a name, with or without it making little difference. Now I knew differently. I was a Princess. I had come of age. I must repay fifteen years of comfort with its corresponding price.
I sighed. “Very well. I will marry.” As soon as I agreed, hundreds of ministers knelt, praising the Princess’s wisdom and righteousness. I only saw the tear in my father’s eye. Tangli cried too, kneeling, clutching the hem of my skirt, calling my name over and over.
Father… your unfilial daughter must leave you again so soon. But rest assured – this time, I will not let Ning destroy Qi. This is the last thing your daughter can do for her homeland. Whatever it takes, I will try.
I looked into the distance. Wen Ziye… it seems this half of my life, I must walk alone again. Where did you go?
The journey from Qi to Ning took a full six months. I left Qi at fifteen and arrived at sixteen. In my past life, Tangli fell seriously ill before my wedding and couldn’t accompany me. At the Wangchuan River, I saw her death – tearing a white silk strip to hang herself, following her mistress into death. This time, with everything happening earlier, Tangli was healthy. She could finally journey with me to a foreign land. At least this time, I had a companion. It did ease my heart somewhat. Ning’s city gates opened and closed behind me. This life, I likely would never leave.

Part VII: Reunion

That night, I saw Chu Suizhi again. Tangli waited outside. I had just bathed and was sitting on the couch pondering things when I drifted off. The bead curtain at the doorway chimed softly as someone approached. His steps were light, but his voice, laughing and impossible to ignore, filled the room: “I haven’t even arrived, and my Empress is already asleep?”
I jolted awake, my gaze meeting his. Few in this world, save myself, could dream of a lover with such features. Chu Suizhi’s looks were less gentle than Wen Ziye’s, his brow more dashing and heroic. He wore robes of black embroidered with gold thread, tall and straight, towering over me as I remembered. A pale green jade thumb ring adorned his finger. I opened my mouth but no sound came.
Chu Suizhi ruffled my hair. “If you’re tired, sleep first.”
“?” I looked at him, puzzled. I wasn’t sleepy anymore, and my stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.
I flushed. Chu Suizhi laughed again. His laugh was genuinely handsome, nothing like the fearsome, decisive ruler Tangli described. It was clear and bright, without a trace of mockery. “My mistake. There are green grape pastries on the table. Would you like some?” I nodded, almost against my will. Ning has green grape pastries now? In my past life, I never ate them after marrying. The timing was off too. I married at seventeen last time; now I was barely sixteen, half a year early. Chu Suizhi was truly relentless.
I probably ate like a squirrel. Chu Suizhi smiled the whole time, complimenting my looks. He asked what I liked, disliked, how many brothers I had, if my father doted on me… countless small things, seeming far more talkative than the Chu Suizhi I knew.
That night, he held me as I slept. He did nothing else. “Empress… may I call you A-Yan?” His voice was incredibly soft. He held my shoulder tightly, as if afraid I’d vanish, his head pressed against my neck. “Tomorrow is your sixteenth birthday and your coronation, A-Yan. What gift do you desire? Tell me. If it’s within my power, I’ll give you the stars, not just the moon. Alright?” Lulled by the night, I heard his questions faintly but lacked the strength to answer. I was exhausted. Tomorrow’s coronation, like the last, would likely have assassins. But I couldn’t say, and no one would believe me. Chu Suizhi would probably unleash his fury tomorrow. He seemed energetic enough now. One step at a time. First, survive the coronation. As for Chu Suizhi… let him be.
The next morning, I awoke to magpies singing. Chu Suizhi was already dressed. His back was to me as he handed a blood-stained white handkerchief to someone. The scene mirrored my memory – Chu Suizhi silhouetted against the doorway light, reminiscent of Wen Ziye at fifteen. If only he turned and smiled now…
At that moment, he turned. His eyes met mine. “Awake? Tangli is outside. I’ll have her come in.” Tangli entered, speaking cautiously. I giggled, telling her I’d slept very well. Tangli’s eyes widened like coins. “Truly? But the storybooks all say…” I tapped her forehead lightly. “What are you thinking? Hurry and dress me. Today will be lively!” At that, Tangli perked up, chattering as she prepared me. “My Princess! Truly, the Ning Emperor is a good man! He even knew you love green grape pastries!” I know. Chu Suizhi was gentle, yet ruthless. My life, Tangli’s life, anyone’s life could be important to him. But first and foremost, he was Emperor of Ning. He sat on that throne, having killed many, destroyed Chu. Nation first. Only then was he my nominal husband. No matter his gentleness, hadn’t he destroyed my country? How could I forget such hatred? I couldn’t.

Part VIII: Fleeting Spring

The coronation day saw Ning in jubilant celebration, exceeding even Qi’s grandest events. Chu Suizhi, hair bound high, crowned, in golden-embroidered robes, stood at the foot of the steps and extended his hand. “A-Yan, come.” Three thousand crimson steps stretched before us. Mountains bloomed in the distance, birds soared towards the wind. Ministers knelt and bowed, shouting “Long live the Emperor!” Only when the ceremony ended did the tension ease from my heart: no assassins attacked as I’d feared.
Standing with Chu Suizhi at the palace entrance, a general reported, “Your Majesty, all assassins have been apprehended.” My heart lurched. I stepped back; Tangli steadied me. “Empress, be careful.” Chu Suizhi’s expression hardened. “The Empress is present. However important your report, mind your timing!” The guard knelt. “This humble servant disturbed the Empress! Begging the Empress’s forgiveness!” I waved him away. “Assassins today? That startled me,” I feigned ignorance, looking questioningly at Chu Suizhi.
Chu Suizhi’s gaze was deep. “Indeed. But all are contained. Empress need not worry.” He offered his hand. “Return to the inner palace with me.” Just then, the guard shouted, “Your Majesty, beware! Protect His Majesty!” An arrow sliced through the air – not aimed at Chu Suizhi, but directly at me! Without hesitation, Chu Suizhi pivoted, pulling me against his chest, shielding me with his body. The sound of the arrow piercing flesh preceded the smell of blood. It wasn’t loud, yet utterly suffocating.
Chu Suizhi collapsed into my arms. It was the first time I saw him wounded. His skin was so pale; the blood flowing over it was horrifying. The assassin was immediately overwhelmed by guards and bit down, dying instantly. The reporting guard looked ready to fall on his sword in remorse. Frowning, I ordered his dagger confiscated, speaking sharply, “Facing trouble, you think of useless gestures instead of redeeming yourself? Is this the caliber of guard Chu Suizhi cultivates?” Before he could react, I commanded, “What are you waiting for? Summon the imperial physicians! Tangli! Go assist where needed!”
Chu Suiling arrived swiftly. A general indeed; she quickly organized the chaotic servants and guards. I waited outside Yong’an Hall for what felt like ages before an elderly physician emerged. “Greetings, Empress.” “How is he?” “His Majesty is robust. The arrow carried no poison; he should recover. However… His Majesty has an old ailment. It is uncertain when he will wake.” “Understood. You may go.” After learning this, I dismissed most people. Chu Suiling stayed briefly before leaving. Only Tangli remained outside. Sitting by the bed, I stared at Chu Suizhi’s closed eyes. Beautiful people seemed serene even in unconsciousness. Realistically, counting yesterday, I’d known Chu Suizhi for barely two days. Chu Suizhi… for someone you’ve known two days, just because she’s nominally your Empress, you take an arrow for her? Was it an act? Unlikely, the assassin was real; instinctive reactions don’t lie. This is hardly befitting an Emperor. You should be cold and ruthless.
Late in the night, red bed curtains drawn, I felt myself being lifted and placed on the bed. Someone nuzzled my ear, his body burning hot. “A-Yan… A-Yan… My A-Yan, are you crying? Would you grieve if I died? More than… if he had died…?” I woke groggily, meeting eyes brimming with desire. Chu Suizhi’s eyes, usually clear and restrained, were now filled with raw longing. The night was too soft. My heart softened too. I was prepared; I was his Empress. What must come, would come. Only… “Aren’t you injured?” I managed, breathless, before he moved further. “Your Majesty… please consider… your health.”
A moment of silence. A soft laugh came from above. “A-Yan… are you worried for me?” His robe hung loose. By the moonlight, I could see… it was hard to tell if the moon or his skin was paler. Truly… ‘seductive’ barely described it. “I am the Empress. All must center on Your Majesty.” Chu Suizhi leaned down. His hand touched my jade bracelet. A wave of intense shame washed over me, like a mask ripped away, a feeling of being caught in infidelity. “This bracelet has fine color. A gift from the Qi Emperor?” “Yes,” I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. Resigned, I kissed him instead.
The sheer red curtains fell at the perfect moment. Chu Suizhi’s heat was dizzying. As he moved, he kissed me. “A-Yan… don’t call me ‘Your Majesty’. Call me A-Sui, alright? Don’t say you’re my Empress… it’s too distant… it pains my heart. You are mine. My A-Yan. My precious A-Yan… I am yours too.” I cried out.
Chu Suizhi… why must you always be gentle? When you destroyed my homeland, did that gentleness mean anything? If you truly loved me, why make me lose my home and country, branded a traitor to Qi? Your child died, you grieved… but that was my child too! Chu Suizhi… you are not innocent.

Part IX: Hard to Hate

I became pregnant with Chu Suizhi’s child. Lately, I often received letters from my father, dated half a year prior due to the distance. I replied to each one, the Qi royal seal on the paper carrying the scent of home. One day, while writing a reply, a wave of nausea overcame me. I fainted, scattering green grape pastries and terrifying Tangli.
I awoke in Yong’an Palace. Chu Suizhi sat beside me, holding my hand. Physicians knelt below, chanting, “Congratulations, Your Majesty! Congratulations, Empress!” Chu Suizhi’s eyes shone. “A-Yan, we have a child! We have a child! Do you hear?” I heard. Part of me was happy; another part was deeply sad. But I couldn’t show the sorrow. I smiled with him.
Once alone, Chu Suizhi’s hand still trembled slightly. His first time as a father, naturally excited. I squeezed his hand back. “A-Sui.” He froze, then replied, “I’m here.” I rarely called him that during the day. “The day I give birth… can you stay in the palace? Don’t leave?” Tears welled up. “A-Sui, I’m scared. I fear the pain. I fear… dying.”
Chu Suizhi embraced me. “Alright, alright. I promise I’ll be with A-Yan then. I won’t leave… Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.” Something inside me snapped. All my pent-up sorrow flooded out. “My mother… she didn’t survive my birth… Promise me, A-Sui. You must be there. If you’re not… I won’t make it. I know I won’t…” Chu Suizhi looked genuinely alarmed. “Don’t say that! It won’t happen! A-Yan, believe me! Alright?” I could see he was truly panicked. He seemed… to genuinely care for me.
After that, the palace moved with extra care. Chu Suizhi assigned more guards and maids to my quarters. One day, Tangli mentioned Chu Suizhi had cut the morning court session short, angry with his ministers. I understood. With Chu Suizhi’s harem empty, I, as Empress, had little to manage. As the nation prospered, ministers would inevitably push for selecting consorts; they just needed a catalyst. It was easily found. Last month, I heard the Western Regions were sending tribute, including their Princess. I’d seen her in my past life – truly stunning, a skilled dancer. Compared to her, I had few talents to boast of. Unless… the smaller script style Wen Ziye had taught me…
Tangli gossiped, unable to resist adding, “Empress, truly, the Ning Emperor treats you well. After the Qi Emperor, he’s the best to you.” I knew what she meant. It was a veiled barb. Wen Ziye, who wore a bamboo hat, saved me twice, stole my heart, then vanished from Qin Yan’s world without a trace.
Did I truly not love Chu Suizhi? I did. But now, a chasm of homeland and betrayal lay between us. I was the only one in the world who knew this truth. How tragic.
That evening, Chu Suizhi came to my chambers. Clearly in a foul mood – a rare show of low spirits in my presence. Tangli, perceptive, placed a jug of Qing Lu wine (a Ning specialty) and discreetly withdrew. I helped Chu Suizhi sit, gently massaging his shoulders. “I hear the Emperor declined the Western beauty?” He seemed surprised by my bluntness, sighing. “You don’t seem jealous at all.” “Since Your Majesty already refused, why should this consort be jealous?” I smiled, seeing his mood lift slightly. “How many times must I say? In private, no need for such formal titles.” I poured him wine. “This Qing Lu aids sleep. A-Sui, rest early tonight.” He always softened when I used that name.
He drank. His long fingers traced my abdomen. “Should be three months now? Yet my A-Yan hasn’t gained an ounce.” Chu Suizhi had a surprisingly low tolerance for alcohol, unusual for royalty. That night, slightly tipsy yet coherent, he carried me to bed again. “A-Yan…” His lazy voice made my head throb. “Over three months… it should be… alright now…”

Part X: Land of Tenderness

I woke the next morning, my back aching too much to rise. Chu Suizhi had gone to court. Tangli entered, helping me wash. I could tell she was stifling a laugh. I tapped her forehead. Then I remembered something. “Tangli, you’re my age, right?” Tangli paused. “Yes.” “If you fancy someone, you must tell me. Don’t hide it.” I said it casually. To my surprise, Tangli dropped the basin, falling to her knees, stammering. “This servant didn’t mean to hide it! Empress, don’t be angry! This servant knows she’s wrong!” Startled, I helped her up, both annoyed and amused. “What are you doing? So dramatic! I just asked! Didn’t expect to uncover a secret!” Tangli stammered, “…I…” “Silly girl! All these years, have I ever truly blamed you for anything?” I called maids to clean the water and close the door. “Tell me. Where did you meet? Inside or outside the palace?” Tangli mumbled a name. Interesting. It was Chu Suizhi’s personal guard, the one who led the assassin capture. Tangli hugged my knees, crying. “Empress, please keep it secret! I know you’re kind, wanting this servant to find happiness, but Tangli won’t leave you until the little prince in your belly is born! I swear!” I laughed. “Alright, alright, get up. Stop crying; it gives me a headache.” A voice interrupted as the door opened. “Who’s making such a racket? I could hear it from afar.” Tangli stuck out her tongue; I signaled her to leave.
Chu Suizhi looked at me questioningly. I shook my head. “Just girl talk between Tangli and me. Can’t I keep some secrets from A-Sui?” Hearing me call him that, he brightened, waving a letter. “A letter from the Qi Emperor, A-Yan. Come.” My desk still held ink, brushes, and paper. Last night’s letter-writing plans had been disrupted by an uninvited guest; the paper remained blank. Chu Suizhi walked to the desk and began grinding ink. The scent of ink and paper filled the chamber. “A-Yan, write something for me. Please?” I dipped the brush and wrote two of my favorite poems:

The carved dice inlaid with red beans,
Deep in my bones, my longing grows.
I dipped the brush again and wrote another:
Ten years parted, one living, one dead;
Not thinking, yet never forgetting…
A thousand miles away, her lonely grave,
No place to speak my desolation…
Even if we met, would she know me?
Dust on my face, hair like frost…
Last night, in a dream, I suddenly returned home;
By the window, she was combing her hair…
My smaller script, taught by Wen Ziye in my past life, held its own against Chu Suizhi’s elegant strokes. This poem, too, was one Wen Ziye had written when teaching me. Chu Suizhi stared at my writing for a long time. His thin lips, pressed tight, parted. “The Empress’s smaller script is beautiful. Did the Qi Emperor teach you?” I nodded. “Yes.” Chu Suizhi took my brush and wrote a line himself. His hand was beautiful, tendons visible beneath the skin as he wrote. His script wasn’t smaller characters, but the ‘Slender Gold’ style my father taught me – sharp, yet restrained:
Only if your heart is like mine,
Will I surely not betray your longing.
Outside the curtain, rain began to patter, bringing the scent of damp earth into the room.

Part XI: Secret Confidences

Chu Suiling visited me today. During our conversation, I learned the green grape pastries I ate weekly were specially commissioned by Chu Suizhi just for me. Even Princess Anding hadn’t tasted them! I flushed with embarrassment, quickly sending Tangli to fetch two portions.
Chu Suiling was talkative today, sharing confidences. She was a good elder sister, her conversation revolving constantly around the child in my belly and Chu Suizhi. “My younger brother, ever since he was small, loved sarcasm. But he’s steady and reliable. You can trust him completely.” I thought for a moment. “He doesn’t seem sarcastic with me.” “Probably because he cherishes you,” Chu Suiling smiled. “Spend more time with him, get closer, and you’ll see his sharp tongue.” “And about the harem,” she added firmly, “I’ve threatened him! No consorts! Or I’ll take away his troops!” I laughed. “But… expanding the imperial harem is the Emperor’s duty, to ensure the royal line…” “His duty is to be faithful to his Empress!” Chu Suiling finished my sentence, brooking no argument. I was speechless.
“I’m not boasting,” Chu Suiling continued, reminiscing. “But my brother Chu Suizhi is truly a rare talent. The late Emperor wasn’t benevolent; he governed poorly and clung to power. He wasn’t Suizhi’s and my birth father, but our uncle. Shortly after Suizhi returned, he passed, and Suizhi ascended hastily. Yet, he swiftly issued new decrees, purged corrupt ministers, mobilized the army… and went to destroy Chu, a state Ning had never conflicted with! To this day, I regret it. I still don’t understand his reasoning. He never explained.” I listened intently. Chu Suizhi, whatever else, was a peerless genius in governance. Though… a secret thought: today, Chu Suiling looked slightly fuller than before, not exactly plump…
Chu Suiling, happily eating, noticed my gaze. She paused, then understood. “Sister, do you think I look… different from before?” I silently admired her tactful phrasing for “gained weight,” resolving to learn such diplomacy. Before I could answer, she continued, “Naturally. Last week, I traveled alone to a neighboring country. My appearance hasn’t fully recovered yet.” I was baffled. “Wh-what?” Now it was Chu Suiling’s turn to be confused. “What ‘what’? Traveling alone to other lands, to remain unnoticed, requires a slight change in appearance.” I froze.
“Surely… my brother told you? The Ning royal family all know some basic transformation arts? Perhaps… he thought it unimportant. It’s quite common.” Chu Suiling frowned. “But the Ning royal secret art is common knowledge. You’ve been married to Chu Suizhi this long and never asked what it is?” My mind raced. “Our princes and princesses, upon turning eighteen, must journey for experience. They face hardships, deadly enemies… it’s normal. Not all return. Each month, we use messenger pigeons to report our safety.” Chu Suiling looked perplexed. “He… never told you any of this?” I felt overwhelmed. “Princess Anding, your sleeve has some pastry on it.” “Has it?” She lifted her hand, her wrist exposed.
What I saw then was the most chilling, blood-curdling sight of my life. On Chu Suiling’s wrist was an identical jade bracelet to mine. “What is that?” I nearly shrieked, startling her. “This?” She pointed. “Our mother passed it down. Suizhi and I each have one. I was afraid to wear it traveling; just put it back on yesterday.” She looked at me, realization dawning. “My good sister… his bracelet… isn’t it on your wrist?”

Part XII: Confessing True Feelings

I felt drenched in ice water, chilled from head to toe. Bang! The door burst open. Chu Suizhi stood there, drenched by wind and rain, his own eyes red-rimmed. He was breathing heavily, staring at me.
“Sister, return to the palace first. There’s a palanquin or swift horse outside. Choose one,” he spoke to Chu Suiling, but his eyes remained fixed on me. “The Empress and I have urgent matters to discuss.” “Alright, I’ll go,” Chu Suiling said, sensing the gravity. She patted my head comfortingly as she left. “Talk things through openly. Between husband and wife, nothing should be unspeakable. Understand?” I nodded.
Alone, I looked at Chu Suizhi, emotions tangled: anticipation, tension, and a deep-seated fear. He strode towards me, cupped my chin, and kissed me fiercely. Held tightly, my chin hurting, I couldn’t move. His kiss was heavy, brutal, offering no tenderness. I struggled for breath, finally biting his lip and tongue hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste filled my mouth; he stopped. I met his gaze. Chu Suizhi’s eyes were completely red. He slowly sank to his knees before me. Those beautiful hands trembled slightly at the fingertips.
“A-Yan… you knew me all along. You remember me… don’t you?” His words struck like lightning. My mind reeled. “What? Chu Suizhi! What do you mean?” I became almost hysterical, grabbing a teapot and smashing it on the floor. “Speak! Speak! Who are you? I’m scared!” Chu Suizhi pulled me into an embrace. “A-Yan, Yan’er, my heart… don’t be upset. Calm down… hit me if you’re angry, just don’t hurt yourself… remember the child…” “Yes! You remember the child too!” I lashed out, frantic. “You don’t want to lose your flesh and blood again, do you?” “Yes!” He held me tighter, enduring my kicks and punches. “So, please, calm down? We’ll talk slowly. Whatever you want to know, I’ll hide nothing. I’ll tell you everything. Please, A-Yan? Calm down. I beg you?” I sobbed violently for a long time, exhausting myself before finally quieting in his arms. Chu Suizhi kept patting my back; he knew it soothed me. I buried my face in the crook of his arm. Holding me thus, he spoke softly. “A-Yan… I thought I’d carry this secret to my grave. Given this rare chance to start over, I didn’t dwell on causes or consequences. I only wanted to protect you this life, shield you from harm, give you everything I failed to give last time.” He laughed softly, bitterly. “I never imagined… you remembered too.” “How did you know?” I asked, having composed myself slightly, pulling back a little. “First suspicion was back in Qi, when I mentioned the Wangchuan River. Your answer differed from the past life. But after that… I found no other clues.” “Until a few days ago. When you wrote for me. You wrote the poems I taught you in the past life.” “This life, meeting you as Wen Ziye, I never taught you calligraphy. You should have written the ‘Slender Gold’ style your father taught you. Yet you wrote smaller characters.” Chu Suizhi closed his eyes. “That was conclusive proof. You remembered.” “Why didn’t you tell me last life you were Wen Ziye?” “Last life, when I ascended, the previous Emperor wasn’t dead, just ill. He yielded the throne unwillingly. My power was constrained at every turn. I couldn’t show obvious affection or hatred towards anyone, or he’d use it against me.” Chu Suizhi sighed. “My sister told you. The previous Emperor wasn’t our father. He seized the throne by murdering our birth father.” “My sister is straightforward, a good general but not deep-thinking. She never suspected him.” He paused. “So… this time… I prepared. I avenged our father. I killed him myself. I owed him nothing. It was repayment.” I gripped his hand, crying. “Then… my homeland? Chu Suizhi! Why did you destroy my homeland? Do you know how much I hate you? I hated you day and night!” “A-Yan, I didn’t.” Chu Suizhi shook his head gently. “When I reached Qi, the city was already breached. It was Chu spies, exploiting our alliance, who infiltrated Qi and caused its downfall.” “So this life, my first act was to destroy Chu. A-Yan, your homeland is safe. Everything is safe. Believe me. Please?” Tears streamed down my face. “Wen… Chu Suizhi… is that true?” He nodded. “A-Yan. If you love Chu Suizhi, I am Chu Suizhi. But if you love Wen Ziye, then I can be Wen Ziye too. As you wish. I submit to your will.” “This life, I fought for this grand realm. But if you are not here… leaving only barren mountains and dead rivers… who will share it with me?”
Mountains beckon the breeze; forests hold up the sky.
Several times I wished to forget you in this world,
But always, at the end of the road, we meet again.
It seems… it was a secret longing, an unwillingness to part.

Part XIII: Comforting a Lifetime

All the previous mysteries finally unraveled. Chu Suizhi and I had died on the same day, in the same place. At the same moment, we both returned to where our deepest attachments began, each determined to live better, unaware the other also remembered. That’s why Chu Suizhi, knowing assassins awaited him in the bamboo forest, avoided them initially. Yet, I stumbled into them, unknowingly retracing the path to our meeting – though this time, he saved me. Thus, his actions diverged slightly, timing shifted – including asking me about the Wangchuan River earlier. The messenger pigeon shot down over the Princess’s residence that day carried news for him. When the old Emperor of Ning lay dying, he had to leave immediately or risk chaos, unable to bid farewell or explain. He spent half a year consolidating power, destroying Chu, then sought my hand. Knowing assassins struck during the coronation last time, he had them ambushed beforehand and took an arrow meant for me. He knew everything. So, he wanted to shield me from everything. He swept away the pain of my past life, preparing to love me wholeheartedly in this one. He never imagined I had returned with him.
So that was it. That was it.
Chu Suizhi touched my belly, his voice so tender it brought tears to my eyes. “A-Yan, I was childish before, wrestling with myself. I didn’t tell you I was Wen Ziye because I feared you loved the false me, the persona of Wen Ziye, and not the real Chu Suizhi.” “Autumn approaches. Remember? I said Ning’s red maples outshine Qi’s. Soon, I’ll ride the chestnut horse again, take you to the highest peak to see them. Alright?” “A-Yan, let’s bring this child safely into the world. I promise, this time, I won’t let him suffer the slightest harm. Alright?” I bit my lip and nodded fiercely. “Alright.”
In the past life: Tangli followed her mistress in death; Qin Yan jumped from the tower; Chu Suizhi held her corpse and broke his sword upon the city gate, taking his own life.
In this life: Tangli and I both found our heart’s desire; my homeland prospered in peace. The people I loved were all by my side, living well.
Only if your heart is like mine, Will I surely not betray your longing. Finally, we found comfort for a lifetime.

Epilogue

In the golden autumn of the tenth month, Ning’s Crown Prince was born safely. Chu Suizhi immediately named him Crown Prince Chu Suiliang. I gave him the courtesy name Zixi. Tangli and Chu Suizhi’s personal guard chose to remain in the palace. The following year, Tangli also became a mother. Another year later, I gave birth to a Princess. She was charming and adorable. Chu Suizhi said she resembled me and doted on her endlessly, naming her Chu Suiying, with the pet name Jiaojiao (Darling).
One day, under gentle winds, we returned to Qi. After paying respects to my father and old acquaintances, we visited Yue Shen Temple to burn incense and encountered Abbot Xunyin again. Clad in his kasaya, he bowed deeply. The prayer beads in his hand suddenly snapped, scattering to the ground. Chu Suizhi and I were alarmed. Abbot Xunyin merely smiled serenely. “Benefactors need not fear. Welcome back. It seems both of you have successfully resolved the attachments from your past lives.” I quickly clasped my hands together. “Abbot, please enlighten us.” He remained characteristically unhurried. “Heaven’s secrets cannot be spoken. However, one thing this humble monk can reveal.” Chu Suizhi bowed his head. “We await the Abbot’s guidance.”
“The Wangchuan River uses the彼岸花 (Bianhua – ‘Other Shore Flower’) as a guide, with attachment as the cause. To return once is exceedingly rare. In my hundred years, I have never encountered it.” “Most who die do not meet the Wangchuan, for they have no attachments in this life. Some meet the river but dare not turn back. Others turn back but cannot return to life.” “Therefore, only two souls bound by mutual fate, dying on the same day, at the same time, both choosing to turn back at the Wangchuan’s edge together, can be reborn, granted one chance to start anew.” Abbot Xunyin shook his head as he walked away. “True affinity! True affinity! Benefactors, you must cherish it! You must cherish it!” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and turned to Chu Suizhi. He was already looking at me.
How incredibly fortunate, to meet someone who, even given a second chance, would still choose me.