In the spring of Qingtan's eighteenth year, envoys from the North Di Kingdom arrived in Li.

As the sun reached its zenith, He Dong escorted Ye Rong, the daughter of the Regent King and sole heir of the Ye family, out of the city in a discreetly shaded carriage.

“Elder He, where are we going? And why must we keep this hidden from my father?” she asked, her voice poised yet curious.

He Dong, slender and withered as an ancient branch, had always held an air of quiet authority that stirred both respect and apprehension in her. “Princess, do you remember what I told you when you were ten?” he asked.

“Yes, you said that the King of Bei Di is my true father.” Ye Rong lowered her gaze, and the strings of jade and pearls at her collar swept gracefully down to brush her cheek, enhancing her serene beauty.

Father—a term that felt foreign to her. Even though He Dong had told her the truth long ago, the word felt distant, like a title belonging to some faceless figure of rank. Her heart had always reserved the place of family solely for Xie Liulan.

He Dong’s eyes softened. “And what else?”

“You said I could use his paternal affection to hold him, but never let myself feel true fatherly love for him.”

“Good. Remember, princess, unless absolutely necessary, never seek him out. He is a dangerous and ruthless man.”

Though indifferent in her heart, she nodded and replied with a faint smile. “Understood, Elder He. But you still haven’t told me where we are headed.”

“The King of Bei Di wishes to meet you.”

At these words, a chill of surprise surged through her, but it was too late to resist. Avoiding He Dong’s sharp gaze, she resigned herself to await their destination in silence.

Hours later, the carriage halted, and she descended to find herself before the tranquil Luo Lake at the base of Li Mountain, where a magnificent painted boat lay in wait. Standing on its deck was a man of stern elegance, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

As Ye Rong ascended the boat with He Dong, she was struck by the man’s beauty, even as age had begun to etch lines upon his face. The boat began to drift, dividing the water’s surface into rippling paths of golden sunlight.

“Finally, you’ve come,” the man’s deep voice, heavy with expectation, resonated. “Do you know who I am?”

The King of Bei Di, Fei Rong, gazed upon her with piercing black eyes, surveying her intently. She met his gaze fearlessly, offering a warm smile.

“Yes, Elder He has told me. You are my father.”

“You look nothing like her, yet your brow bears a striking resemblance to mine,” Fei Rong remarked, his voice laden with a near sorrow, as if searching her face for some fragment of the past.

He Dong intervened gently. “The princess’s beauty mirrors that of the former Lady Ye.”

Fei Rong’s reverie broke, and he motioned her to follow him inside the boat’s resplendent cabin. Golden candlesticks, amber incense burners, and pearlescent screens filled the room with an opulence that spoke of effortless power.

“You must be fifteen now,” he murmured, looking upon her with a softness that betrayed a hint of regret. “It’s time you were married. Would you consider joining us in Bei Di? I could find you a husband of noble character.”

“Certainly not,” she responded without hesitation.

He sipped his tea slowly, his dark hair spilling from his golden crown, and asked in a calm tone, “Why not?”

“I already have someone in my heart!” she blurted out, her voice echoing through the vast cabin.

“Ah, so it’s like that… Xie Liulan has cared for you too well.” Fei Rong’s expression darkened, studying her with a calculating gaze. In a few brief exchanges, he understood this child before him—pure and unversed in courtly schemes, as unmarked as fresh parchment.

“Indeed, the Regent treats the princess as his own,” He Dong respectfully replied.

“Such protection may not be a blessing. Does Xie Liulan plan to live forever, guarding her at his side?” Fei Rong’s lips twisted into a bitter smile.

Hearing his mocking tone, Ye Rong felt a surge of anger. Her face flushed, but her voice remained cold. “I ask that you not speak ill of my father.”

“I am your father, not Xie Liulan, nor that madman in Qianshan Palace. It is I, and the blood of Bei Di flows through your veins.”

She clenched her fists within her sleeves, her voice unwavering as she met his now blood-tinted gaze. “I carry the blood of the Ye family.”

A slow, mocking smile crept across his face. “Indeed. You are truly her daughter.”

Then he laughed, a harsh sound that weighed the air, seeming to still even the light within the room. When his laughter faded, he spoke again, his voice cutting as a blade, “Do you know what kind of woman your mother was? Do you know her story?”

The sunlight gleamed on the lake outside, while inside, Fei Rong’s shadow loomed over her as he spoke of the past, weaving a tale of intrigue and betrayal.

Under the unyielding scrutiny of those eyes, she felt herself transform into prey.

Though her reflection appeared in his gaze, she sensed no trace of paternal affection, only an engulfing fear. No one had ever spoken of her mother, not even a whisper, and so, suppressing her terror, she forced herself to ask, trembling:

“I... I don’t know. No one has ever told me.”

“Then allow me,” he said, with a chilling finality.

“You can’t...” He Dong interjected, his voice strained and hoarse with urgency.

Fei Rong turned slowly, his gaze cold as he addressed He Dong in a measured tone, “This does not concern you. My daughter will not remain an ignorant fool.”

By the time he finished his tale, the sun had dipped beyond the horizon. Inside the boat, candles glowed softly, casting a warm, flowing light. The amber incense filled the air with wisps of rich, lingering fragrance, swirling like an ethereal dream.

His deep voice wove a tapestry of courtly intrigue, magnificent yet sinister, and as the words wrapped around her, she felt as though she had heard nothing at all—and everything. She wanted to cry, to scream, but in the end, she could only stare blankly at the man before her, this man she now had to call “father,” her face drained of emotion.

Turning, she met He Dong’s gaze—aged, compassionate, unflinchingly steady. This man, who had witnessed her mother’s life from the shadows of the palace, now looked at her with profound sorrow. Suddenly, she felt the absurdity of it all, as if none of this held any relevance to her. Yet at last, she spoke, her voice cracked and hoarse.

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“It’s... horrifying...”

“Yes, she was indeed a terrifying woman,” Fei Rong replied, lost to the drifting scent of incense, his memories pulling him into their depths. Finally, he turned back to her, his eyes shaded with a faint, blood-tinged smile, almost invisible.

“This is a world where only the strong survive. Understand this: devour, or be devoured. Do you understand?”

“No...” Her heart seemed to freeze under his glacial expression, her body trembling uncontrollably.

In the flickering candlelight, he rose and walked slowly toward her, his plain violet robe embroidered with flames that glowed like ghostly embers with each step. Bending low, he studied her, the golden ribbons of his crown falling to his chest.

“You have no choice, child. You must seize control of the Ye clan, for only then will others fear you, and only then will you be safe.”

“...Power...like Mother?”

Looking into his eyes, so close, she summoned a courage she did not know she possessed, her words emerging hesitantly.

“Yes, like her. She excelled beyond all others, and you bear both her strength and mine. I cannot allow Xie Liulan to ruin you! Have you remembered what I said?”

With his long fingers, he gripped her shoulders, their touch hot like a searing flame, painfully pressing through her delicate garments. Unlike Xie Liulan’s calming warmth or Roga’s sunlight-like gentleness, his was a burning force, a fire that reached her skin and left a trail of pain.

His voice, gentle as a summer breeze, nevertheless carried an icy edge that chilled her to the core.

“Power. You must wield it.”

Fei Rong’s gaze, dark under his golden crown, remained fixed on her, watching the faint flicker of doubt pass through her pure, lotus-like eyes. His grip tightened, and his cold smile broadened.

“Good. Remember, my child, that Bei Di is your strength. Xie Liulan, Jin’ou, even Prince Roga—any who stand in your way are your enemies. But you have me and the entirety of Bei Di! Remember, Bei Di is your true family—do you understand?”

“Bei Di... family...” she murmured, her lips forming a faint, almost invisible smile as his grip made her tremble. But as she gazed upon him, she was unsure if her heart held sorrow or hatred. She saw, clearly, the ambition in his eyes; there was no trace of her within them.

In that moment, she understood fully—she was but a pawn in the vast chessboard of power, just as He Dong had warned her.

Falling into the carriage, she felt its curtains drop, veiling the light and casting her into dimness. As it rocked forward, the rhythmic sound of hooves struck her heart like a relentless, somber beat.

The faint scent of sandalwood filled the air, calming her as she regained her composure. Slowly, she turned to look at He Dong across the carriage’s expanse, her gaze steady and silent.

“Princess, no matter what Fei Rong has told you, remember—he is a wolf. ‘Even a tiger does not eat its cubs,’ and though he will not harm you, he will devour everything else. So, please, be wary in the future.”

He Dong’s eyes avoided hers as he held a porcelain cup, fatigue etched in every line of his face. She nodded wordlessly, her head slowly lowering as her pearl hairpins cascaded down her frail shoulders, tracing the length of her curled form.

Silence filled the carriage, heavy and oppressive, until, just as it felt stifling enough to suffocate, she spoke again.

“Elder He, so my mother gave birth to me only as part of a transaction. She never loved me, did she?”

He Dong stiffened, his eyes snapping open, meeting her gaze. A few short hours ago, she had been carefree; now, she sat curled up defensively, shrouded in her own thoughts.

“In my life of serving three generations of Ye women... not once have I seen one born from love.”

She lifted her gaze to He Dong, finding only a curious stiffness etched across his deeply lined face. His eyes held a quiet solitude, an unfathomable depth, seeming to stretch beyond her reach.

Then, she smiled.

She had always thought herself as free as a bird in the sky, unbound by anything. Yet, here she was, a pitiable creature unknowingly caged.

Her world collapsed before her eyes.

Spring’s warmth had begun to return, spilling over those who had endured the harsh winter.

Ye Rong walked into the courtyard of Liufu Palace, passing under a flower-laden gate, where she found Roga practicing his swordplay beneath a tree just budding with new growth. His movements were fierce and bold, his strikes swift and resolute. The golden robe billowed around his tall, slender form, gliding through the air like a dragon’s scales dancing through clouds.

His expression was grave, his gaze icy, as though his focus left no room for anything beyond the three-foot blade in his hands.

She stood, wanting to speak, but no words would come, and she could only watch the young man moving through his steps, graceful yet unreachable.

In the flashing swordlight, his dark eyes grew even more intense.

Finishing, he steadied himself and finally noticed Ye Rong standing not far off.

Clad in a simple azure gown, she stood there like a celestial maiden descended to earth. Seeing his gaze upon her, she offered a soft smile, gentle and radiant as the first blossoms of spring.

At that smile, he was overcome with a profound sense of happiness.

Yes, this was his Ye Rong, the woman he loved.

The sharpness in his eyes softened, a gentleness akin to flowing water.

“When did you arrive? Why didn’t you call for me?”

With a laugh, she moved closer, winding her arms around his neck, then pressing her lips softly to his.

Roga smiled, wrapping his long arms around her, returning her kiss gently.

After a lingering kiss, Ye Rong drew back slightly, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, her long lashes casting a shadow over her captivating gaze, pulling Roga deeper into her spell.

“Roga, I’m afraid.”

“What’s wrong?”

He gazed at her, surprised, as though he could peer into the very depths of her soul.

“I often wonder, if you were forced to choose between me and the throne, what would you choose?”

Now, she, who could quiet all his worries with a single kiss, seemed shrouded in a veil of unease. Though her anxiety was subtle, he sensed her struggling to hide it from him.

He knew, but he felt powerless to help her.

“You have changed. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but your eyes have grown colder, more ruthless. Watching you wield your sword just now, I was truly... afraid.”

Her dark eyes drifted, both on him and yet beyond him, lost in thoughts he could not follow, fragile and distant, as if she might vanish at any moment.

“Ye Rong, what’s troubling you?”

“Someday, you’ll ascend the throne. This world will be yours, and I know you possess the talents to rule. But I also know how wary you are of the Ye family. And as emperor, you’ll be expected to have many concubines—I could never bear to share you. Your mother, too—she may smile at me, but her gaze feels as cold as if she’s staring at a ghost… I often wish you would never take the throne, that you could belong solely to me forever… so that I would never lose you…”

Though her words, tinged with quiet desperation, didn’t fully reach him, she remained gazing at him, her rose-tinted lips caught between her teeth, her dark eyes veiled under her long lashes, as if clouds were covering the still waters of Taiye Lake. The spring sunlight bathed her hair, creating a rich, almost unreal luster.

“I long to leave this shadowed palace with you, to journey far away, to a place where no one knows us. A small cottage, where you till the fields and I weave, surrounded by children at our feet.”

She saw their shadows entwined upon the ground, yet a step’s distance still lay between them.

What one sees and what truly is—there is always a distance.

He, too, grew lost, drawn into the dream she had spun. The palace’s chill and shadow vanished within her voice, cool and gentle as morning mist.

In a small bamboo house, he would cradle their child as she sat nearby, mending clothes under the lamp, watching him with a tender smile.

An overwhelming sense of weariness washed over him, years of pent-up fatigue rising unbidden. He felt a deep exhaustion he had never known.

Gazing at the beautiful girl before him, he seemed to want to say something but, after opening and closing his lips, fell silent once more.

She simply watched him, then smiled, a gentle warmth radiating from her.

“We love each other, and love should bring us boundless happiness. Yet why does it feel like this happiness slips further and further away, beyond our grasp? Roga, without you, Li will still have its king. But without you, I cannot live.”

He stood there, silent, words failing him.

To him, this ancient palace was his home. He had spent fifteen years here, but the joyful memories were so few they barely filled his mind, while those of sorrow and pain overflowed.

And all his precious memories were gifts from the girl before him.

Just having her by his side, seeing her gentle smile, watching her playful mischief, holding her each night—these filled him with a happiness that needed nothing more.

A happiness that made everything else feel unnecessary…

“Look at me; we barely see each other, and here I am, rambling on. I should go—Father must be waiting for me.”

After a long silence, Ye Rong straightened herself, offering him a graceful bow.

As she turned, the long pearl tassels hanging from her jeweled hairpin swayed through the air, tracing an elegant arc as they swept past him, leaving a radiant trail in the sunlight.

Without a second thought, he reached out and took hold of the glittering hairpin. Her hair, soft and silken, cascaded down, falling like a dark waterfall before his eyes.

The jeweled pin arced silver in the light, landing with a faint clink upon the grass, pearls scattering among the green.

Turning in surprise, she saw him holding her hair, a rare, almost childlike smile softening his handsome face.

“So, would you leave even your father behind?”

A fleeting shadow passed over her eyes, but then she smiled, her lips curving gently.

“I still have you, Roga. I still have you.”

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, grasped her hand, and smiled, “Then let’s go!”

At those words, the gloom vanished from their faces, their eyes shining with light. No matter what they had to abandon, it was all worth it for each other.

And perhaps, they would fly side by side forever, traversing the ends of the earth together.