The crescent moon rose to the ninth heaven, casting a cold white shadow over the mortal world... In the desolate desert, sand danced like silk; no matter how much love one held, here, it was but a fleeting blossom in the wind. On the yellow earth, no footprints of obsession could be carved; as years passed, all would be erased, leaving only endless dunes of desolation, an eternal ocean of dry waves. Though such words were sorrowful, they spoke of an unyielding truth... Yet, what sets humans apart from other beings? Beyond instinct, it is the capacity to dream.

Kneeling before Qingyun were Lian Huan, Yepei, and eleven others with whom he had crossed paths on several occasions. He merely sat on his throne, his head lowered, gazing at them. The Ice Thorn Palace was silent, the vassals and nobles all lost in thought. After a moment, Lian Huan raised his head, reiterating each word, "Regardless of life or death, we implore Your Majesty to allow us to see Nashou once."

These thirteen individuals appeared worn and weary, having traveled for days without proper rest or care. "She is dead," Qingyun replied coldly, though inwardly he mused: So they resorted to this strategy. Lian Huan's dark lips tightened before he spoke again, "In that case, Your Majesty, please return the Queen's remains to us! Without her body, we shall never give up!" With that, all thirteen bowed low, expressing their unwavering determination.

Qingyun pondered briefly, then turned to give a signal to Miaojing, who stood beside him. Miaojing nodded and went to carry out his order.

"The thirty-day ceasefire is nearly over, and yet your esteemed King Zhan still finds time to seek out the departed," Qingyun said with a sardonic smile, his tone mocking. "Does such a great nation have no other pressing matters?" At that moment, Lian Huan and his comrades had already tuned out their surroundings, their ears straining to catch the sound of footsteps outside the hall. Not long after, their answer arrived—a coffin of dark walnut wood, carried in by four men, placed solemnly in the center of the silent hall. Miaojing stood by, nodded at Lian Huan, and said, "Take it away."

Lian Huan and Yepei exchanged glances, their hands trembling as they reached out to the edge of the coffin. Perhaps fear still gripped their hearts, for they hesitated for a long while before finally lifting a corner to look inside...

"Empty!" Yepei exclaimed, equal parts shock and joy. "Where is Nashou?" The outburst was somewhat impolite.

Qingyun regarded them coldly. "You may return and report now, with this coffin!" His tone brooked no argument, as if he wished for these thirteen figures to vanish immediately. After all, they had risked their lives to bargain with Ruo Wen, and who could say what trouble their presence might bring?

To his surprise, Lian Huan nodded unexpectedly. The thirteen of them expressed their gratitude in unison, then obediently carried the coffin away without further struggle or questioning, their figures gradually receding into the distance. The great hall fell silent once more, an eerie stillness descending.

That night, deep within the Ice Thorn Palace, the crescent moon was still visible beyond the clouds. The King of Jing sat at a table, a chessboard before him, and opposite him sat a beautiful woman. Her delicate brows were furrowed, her clear eyes brimming with evident frustration. Qingyun smiled, teasing her, "For someone who claims to be clever, your chess skills are terrible! I've let you have seven pieces, and still, you've managed to end up like this!" His tone carried a hint of affection, as he moved aside two more pieces to clear her path.

Huang Beishuang sighed, smiling, "I may not be skilled, but I'm certainly not a novice. Yet I never imagined I'd lose every game against a king! You mustn't laugh at me again!"

Qingyun raised an eyebrow, "Did you lose to Zhan, too?"

Huang Beishuang nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Qingyun burst into laughter. "What's the big deal? Zhan's chess is too restrained; winning countless times brings no real satisfaction!"

Huang Beishuang glanced at him, then turned her gaze back to the chessboard. "I heard... he once overturned the board in anger?"

Qingyun chuckled, picking up a pastry from the table. "Indeed. He worries too much, a sore loser by nature. I was young then and nearly fought him over it."

"Ha!" Huang Beishuang smiled softly, her starlit eyes and icy complexion captivatingly beautiful. Ever since she had become intimate with him, she had transformed like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, often enchanting him with just a glance. Qingyun pursed his lips, stepped behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. His cool lips brushed against her ear, and he whispered hoarsely, "Why not just admit defeat quickly..."

Huang Beishuang tilted her head back, giggling, "Your Majesty has many duties to attend to; affairs of the bed should not be overindulged."

Qingyun released her, pulling off her outer garment, turning her to face him. He was in no mood for conversation, longing only for the kiss and embrace he had craved these past twenty days, as each night they shared a bed.

"Qingyun, did you know... I'm quite skilled at taming Paradise Birds?" Huang Beishuang whispered in his ear, "And my Paradise Bird is quite special—it can fly far, unlike any other in the desert."

Qingyun held her, seated on the table, his hands roaming her body, but his gaze grew cold as he looked at her.

Huang Beishuang wrapped her arms around his neck, her clothing disheveled as she sat on his lap. She murmured, "Only thirteen people—what could they possibly do before you? Let me meet them."

Hearing this, Qingyun seemed angered. He pulled her clothes off with such force that she was instantly bare, curled up in his arms like a newborn. His heated lips sealed hers with rare brutality. It wasn't until he heard her soft whimper that he suddenly released her.

"Perhaps..." He said into the air, his voice tinged with displeasure, "I should lock you away."

Huang Beishuang smiled, her skin like snow seeking warmth, pressed close to his body. She asked softly, "Would that be alright?"

Qingyun was silent for a while before lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. As the green curtains fell, he finally spoke, "Only for tomorrow. I'll have Suoza follow you."

The light curtain swayed, soon to come to rest. Behind the drapery, only the warmth of spring remained...

The Paradise Bird, a member of the finch family, is an exquisite desert bird, brilliant in color, with a slender tail and a melodious call. It is a rare species, known for its solitary nature, unwilling to gather in flocks, yet taking the lead during migrations. A King Paradise Bird mates only once, and if its partner dies, it fasts and perishes without a backward glance at the mortal world.

From a young age, Huang Beishuang had loved taming these birds. Generally, birds of such delicate build seldom traveled far, but the King Paradise Bird she raised, named Hong, was extraordinary—not only could it fly for three days without landing, but it could also cry like an infant upon seeing its master. Nowhere else in the desert was there another bird like it.

Thus, when she saw Hong in the Ice Thorn Palace, she knew that Yepei had come for her. And since they had come, she would meet them.

The next day, Lian Huan, Yepei, and the other eleven—who had kept vigil outside the Ice Thorn Palace—were once again allowed entry under the watchful eyes of a hundred guards. They passed through long corridors and the intricate palace halls until they finally reached the deepest chamber, where they found the mistress of the twenty-one Jiemashu trees. She sat on a wooden chair in the pavilion, dressed in a robe of soft peach silk, draped in a snow fox fur cloak, still graceful and alluring. A faint drunkenness lingered in the air, and with a gentle laugh, the wind stirred the copper chimes, and the sound of flowing water echoed like a stream.

They stared at her in a daze, momentarily afraid to speak, fearing it was all but a fleeting dream. Huang Beishuang nodded at them, her voice gentle, "I knew you would come looking for me. Come, sit."

"Nashou!" Yepei and the other two, being women at heart, could no longer hold back their sorrow and rushed to embrace her tightly.

"Alright, alright!" Huang Beishuang patted their backs, smiling, "I'm fine, aren't I? Why the tears? Sit down and let's talk."

The thirteen of them sat down, their eyes fixed on her, their spirits instantly lifted, as if bathed in spring sunlight. Huang Beishuang looked at each of them, her gaze tightening, and she smiled, "Jiang Lei and Yun Zai have also come!"

The two of them bowed.

"So... Zhanbie managed to leave the pass?" she asked with a hint of surprise.

Jiang Lei shook his head. "He couldn't get past me, so he had to enlist in the army. He has now joined the Yunpei National Guard."

Huang Beishuang always worried about this man, the black-stringed bow he carried forever unsettling her. After some thought, she asked, "Did His Majesty ask you to come find me?"

The thirteen nodded. Lian Huan replied, "Lord Qing said you were no longer of this world, but His Majesty didn't believe it. He insisted that we see you alive or see your corpse dead. He has even built a mausoleum for the Queen Consort."

"Ha!" Huang Beishuang laughed. "So typical of him!"

Yepei and the others exchanged glances before asking, "Nashou, have you and Lord Qing...?"

Huang Beishuang nodded, offering no further explanation. She then asked, "Did His Majesty send any word through Brother Eshe?"

Lian Huan shook his head. "No, Eshe knows nothing of your affairs. However..." He gestured to Yepei, who took out a small embroidered pouch, warm from being held close throughout the journey, and handed it over.

Huang Beishuang took it and held it in her hands for a long while, her gaze distant as she murmured, "The soil of my homeland..." Her expression was dazed, her thoughts inscrutable.

The thirteen remained silent, waiting for her response, none daring to utter a word of persuasion.

After a while, Huang Beishuang gave a wry smile, "Why are none of you saying anything? Won't you urge me to return?"

All thirteen knelt down and replied, "It is entirely Nashou's decision."

Huang Beishuang sighed, rose slowly, and extended a jade-like finger. Suddenly, a seven-colored bird flew to her hand, spreading its long, resplendent tail feathers, chirping incessantly. This must be her King Paradise Bird!

"Hong... you've missed me, haven't you? I'm sorry for leaving you in the Guanghan Palace," she said to it with a smile. "Back in the northern desert, do you feel much happier...?"

The thirteen remained kneeling, silently watching her as she played with the bird.

After some time, Huang Beishuang seemed to feel a sense of ease. She turned to Lian Huan and the others and said, "Let's go. We'll take a stroll."

In the northern desert, the largest sovereign nation was Tiandu. Having been closed off for ten years, its barriers were many, and it was not easily accessible to outsiders. Understanding it was difficult. For the past decade, the weaker nomadic tribes and enslaved peoples living around Tiandu had sought alliances and protection from other sovereign nations. Among Huhe, Masui, Mizan, and Yunpei, Yunpei was the preferred choice. The reason was simple—though distant, Yunpei was vast and fertile, wealthy and powerful, and politically stable. Gaining its support meant divine favor, perhaps even the chance for fertile lands, just as the Ernaci now had.

Since the migration of the seven thousand Ernaci, another nomadic tribe had settled on the ancient oasis of Gulhaqi in the northern desert, where the struggle for survival continued, with frequent skirmishes over water and food.

Huang Beishuang stood on a small sand dune, her face illuminated by the setting sun, a faint smile playing on her lips. She stood before the thirteen, opened the small embroidered pouch, and gently poured out its contents—fine sand scattered in the wind.

"This is no longer the soil of my homeland; let it return whence it came."

She gazed at the sky, crimson with the evening glow, her silhouette bathed in red as if she were about to merge with the sea of sand. The ten guards and three maids watched her until she finally turned back, a gentle smile on her lips. Her expression was serene, and after walking a few paces—about two or three yards away—she said calmly, "A piece that has already been played cannot be used again. I owe His Majesty nothing more, and so I shall not return to Yunpei."

Hearing this, Lian Huan nodded, and asked solemnly, "In that case, Nashou, do you wish for us to return with the empty coffin to report?"

Huang Beishuang turned, facing them directly, and shook her head. "You will not return either."

The thirteen were stunned, confusion in their eyes.

"Returning would be to directly tell him that I am alive and in Tiandu. So you won't be going back. This way, even if he knows I am alive, without any news of me, I am nothing but a dead piece to him." She paused, pondering briefly before continuing, "The suppressed chaos is on the brink of eruption—how could a single woman stop it? Moreover, His Majesty seems to forget that the Ernaci have taken root in Yunpei and are now its citizens. They are subject to his rule and thus deserve his protection. How can he use his own people to threaten me? He cannot..."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Lian Huan and the others exchanged glances, finally understanding, and nodded before asking, "So we stay?"

Huang Beishuang, hearing this, let out a faint, bitter laugh. "Unless Zhan severs this line completely, he will not rest, and he will make use of every advantage available. So... I cannot stay in Tiandu either."

Yepei and the others darkened, and she softly asked, "What is Nashou's plan? Tiandu is heavily guarded, and leaving requires Lord Qing's permission. Judging from his attitude yesterday, I fear..."

Upon hearing this, Huang Beishuang lifted her head to look at the blood-red sky, and the image of those eagle-like sharp eyes flashed in her mind. After a long silence, she pulled her fur cloak tightly around her for warmth.

Qingyun...

Too many people spend their lives searching for a place of stability, a simple life of working at sunrise and resting at sunset. Yet, such simplicity always proves elusive. Whether it is the restlessness of the human heart or the absence of such a place in this world, there is no perpetual peace or enduring tranquility...

The year 332 AD, Spring Equinox.

The grand military parade in Tiandu commenced—armor gleamed, and hooves stirred the dust into a fog. Generals from all directions gathered in Huairou, assembling an army of two hundred thousand. With high spirits, the Northern King of Jing addressed the troops, his call echoing like a tidal wave. He promised them—victory would mean unifying the world, defeat would mean a warrior's grave upon the battlefield. The soul diviner Hunran performed divination three times, setting an auspicious date for the battle against Yunpei, with no delay allowed. Those who disobeyed would face military justice!

Huang Beishuang stood at the highest point of the parade ground, accompanied by the thirteen, gazing down at the impassioned soldiers. She felt both admiration and pity for them.

She was once a woman content with simplicity—marrying Zhan without caring for his favor, as long as it benefited her people and fulfilled her mission; loving Qingyun without caring for any title, as long as they had true love and cherished moments together. Perhaps this only proved her to be a mere drop in the ocean, drifting along the currents of fate.

But now, things were different. Fate had given her an opportunity—an opportunity to become the observer of the chessboard. And she should seize it. As these thoughts crossed her mind, her eyes narrowed, and her resolve was made.

"What are you doing?"

As soon as the political meeting ended, Qingyun returned to the palace. His men reported that she had been wandering with her ten guards and three maids all day, visiting the Ernaci's old settlement, and had even scattered the soil that Zhan had sent. This made him happy.

Huang Beishuang was distilling wine—its taste entirely unlike Ba Wine, carrying both an astringent sourness and a delicate fragrance. She smiled as she sat at the table, waving her hand, "You're back, come and try it!"

Qingyun took a seat, accepting the cup she handed him without a moment's hesitation, and drained it in one gulp.

"Sour! The aftertaste is not bad, but there's too little," he said lightly after finishing.

Such a scene might seem normal in an ordinary household, but within the Ice Thorn Palace, Miao Jing found it nerve-wracking. For eleven years, His Majesty had not tasted anything other than Ba Wine. This very habit, feared and revered, rendered poisoning useless. And now, this habit of eleven years was utterly broken before the Queen Consort of Guanying.

"Your Majesty!" Miao Jing could not help but caution, but Qingyun waved him off, "Leave us!"

Huang Beishuang looked up, smiling, "Lord Miao, there's no need to worry. Leave us be, I wish to speak with His Majesty alone."

With that, Miao Jing bowed and slowly retreated.

Once he was gone, Qingyun picked up the golden purple clay pot before him, inspecting it, and asked, "What is this wine?"

Huang Beishuang smiled faintly, taking the pot to pour another cup, again filling only half. "Do you like it?"

Qingyun accepted it, sipping it in one gulp, "Can't you pour more? It's tiring to drink this way." He paused, turning to her, "To be honest, it doesn't taste very good."

Huang Beishuang burst into laughter. "This is called 'Shared Fate Wine,' a tradition of the Ernaci."

"Shared Fate?" Qingyun raised an eyebrow, "As in 'perish together'?"

"Nonsense!" Huang Beishuang pinched his cheek. "'Destined through three lifetimes, converging despite divergent paths'—that's the meaning."

"Oh!" Qingyun seemed quite satisfied with this explanation, grasping her hand and brushing it against his lips, whispering, "Is it like that Marriage Song?"

Huang Beishuang nodded. "Shared Fate Wine—its initial taste is sour, the aftertaste is sweet. On the wedding night, a newlywed couple drinks it in a cross-cup toast. It embodies the wisdom of our ancestors, symbolizing that life may be filled with trials—birth, old age, sickness, death, reunions, and farewells—but as time flows, those who hold true to their promises will eventually savor life's sweetness. No matter how opposed they may be, they will end up together."

"So it's called Shared Fate Wine!" Qingyun smiled, beginning to appreciate its flavor.

"But why only half a cup at a time?"

"That's to remind you—life is only halfway done!" With that, Huang Beishuang poured two more cups, intertwining her hand with Qingyun's as she held her cup. "Cheers!" she softly exclaimed.

Qingyun smiled, and they drank the toast together.

The night grew late, though they had no sense of time, drinking cup after cup until the deep clouds veiled the moon.

And as usual, behind those emerald green curtains, they embraced tightly.

Yet, in that very moment, Qingyun, as he leaned over her, revealed an unusual coldness. He laughed bitterly, his voice soft as he asked, "Still not saying anything? What is it you intend to do to me this time?"

Huang Beishuang froze, surprised by the clarity still in his eyes.

"Thirteen years of Ba Wine—I have vomited blood more times than you could imagine. My tongue no longer tastes the spice." Qingyun tightened his grip on her, his voice tinged with pain. "Even if there were poison in the food and drink, it would have no effect on me. And as for these few paltry cups—what harm could they do to me? Huang Beishuang, you disappoint me. Did you think I would never get angry?"

With that, his hand seized her chin with force, rage surging within him instantly. "Speak! What do you plan to do to me?"

Huang Beishuang had laced the wine, though it wasn't poison—merely a sedative that would cause him to sleep for several hours. She had taken a gamble, a gamble that he would drink what she offered. And she had won, her heart aching as she watched him swallow each cup. But before she could calm her conflicted emotions, she realized she had lost, utterly and completely.

"You know, I hate poisoned wine more than anything!" Qingyun pressed down on her with fierce intensity, his thin lips trembling in fury. "Huang Beishuang, remember this—between us, you won, not because you were clever or because you schemed well, but because I like you, I love you, and anything you wish to do, I am willing to accept. But..." His grip on her chin tightened, fingers digging into her flesh. "But I was wrong. Letting you do as you pleased meant hurting myself. Perhaps I should learn from Ruo Wen—disregard your intentions and take what I want by force!"

His eyes bloodshot with rage, he tore her clothes, unable to suppress the unexplainable hatred and unease in his heart...

Love you so much that it confounds me, want you endlessly, think of you with undivided devotion, hate you till my soul is lost!

Why is it always you, forever you?

...

In Fentian.

The same time, the same world, the same face, but different stories.

For instance, under Ruo Wen's tacit permission, Ge Xinwei, who had rebuilt the Yu Tribe's regime in Fentian, was akin to Huang Beishuang, who was far away in Tiandu's Ice Thorn Palace. Though they resembled each other, their life trajectories were utterly distinct.

Now, Ge Xinwei was no longer the lowly Ninth Princess, but rather, the rightful Queen of Fentian, a queen... who slept alone in her empty boudoir. Her room held no dressing table, no screens, no tea tables or chairs, no paintings or decorations—only a bed. A bed that held the only memories she had with Ruo Wen.

She lay on that bed, gazing at the moon outside the window, her mind suddenly conjuring up the face of Ruo Wen when he was lost in passion. She smiled at herself, self-mocking. Now, she couldn't even compare to Ruolan Feiwen. She had lowered herself to this extent and still failed to keep him.

With a bitter laugh, she looked down at the letter in her hand, one devoid of any warmth, and tears began to flow.

"How boring!"

These two words, bold and unfeeling, were written on a sheet of paper.

Seven days ago, she had discovered she was pregnant, and there was no doubt that Ruo Wen was the father. She was overjoyed beyond words, celebrating that night with fireworks and feasts, hosting guests until dawn, then sent someone to inform Ruo Wen at Ruoshui. Seven days later, the messenger returned, bringing back nothing but this piece of paper with two cold, heartless words.

At this thought, Ge Xinwei's throat tightened. The once-strong woman, who hadn't shed a tear even as bodies were burned in the grave pyres, now lay on this bed, crying like a torrential storm, her sapphire eyes gazing desolately out the window...

Oh God, why must even dreams be taken away?

She wept in agony, unable to understand how Ruo Wen could be so cold-blooded. Even if he did not love her, how could he not care for his own flesh and blood? Not even look at her? How could he be so heartless?

Born of nobility, how could she understand the ethos among the brigands:

"If I have a daughter, she is my disgrace, for she will one day be defiled; if I have a son, he is my enemy, for one day he will compete with me. Therefore, I would rather have none. And even if I do, I will not acknowledge them. This way, when the time comes, enemies are enemies, women are women, and I remain who I am."

Thus, what ordinary people perceive as happiness is, to these mad brigands, merely a trouble, even a trap—something they would not waste their thoughts on. They did not seek long lives, nor care for peace and prosperity, and they never spoke of karma. If they seemed simple, it was because they willingly exchanged their complexity for it.

Personal happiness is personal gain, personal suffering is personal sorrow.

Such determination was something Ge Xinwei might never understand. Dreams fall as the sun rises, and tides surge at dawn...

Qingyun's bedchamber was unusually disordered—tattered clothing scattered on the floor, the scent of wine filling the air. After the passion subsided, his anger eased slightly. He bent down, placing a few kisses on Huang Beishuang's sweat-drenched back, his voice hoarse as he spoke, "What do you really want?" Huang Beishuang's entire body ached as she lay by the bedside, breathing deeply to regain her calm.

"Trust me this once, will you? If I leave Tiandu, I will never return to Yunpei!" she answered, her eyes closed. "Qingyun, no matter where I go, I will always come back to you."

"Tomorrow, Tiandu's forces will march out, and I want you with me!" Qingyun's gaze turned cold, his hands gripping her tightly.

"I'll only hinder you!" She opened her eyes, looking at him. "Listen to me this one time, please?"

Hearing her words, Qingyun sat up, his hand still resting on her back. The exposed skin had already begun to chill, and he pulled up the blanket, his expression complicated.

Huang Beishuang bit her lip, enduring her fatigue as she rose. She looked at him carefully, seeing him sit there, fists clenched, frustration on his face. Even in his rage, he had not truly harmed her, which only made her regret her actions all the more.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave you like this, but if I asked you directly, you would never agree!" She spoke while walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. His head rested against her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. "Qingyun, if I stay by your side, Zhan will never relent. Once the news leaks, your balanced position in the war will be disrupted—that's the first point. Secondly, Ruo Wen... he's not to be underestimated. Qingyun, Qingyun, no one in this world wishes to stay by your side more than I do. But now, no one is more of a liability to you than I am!" Her hands gently stroked his face, her fingers tracing his features.

After a long silence, Qingyun closed his eyes, finally replying, "If we win this battle, come find me. If we lose, go back to Zhan."

Huang Beishuang smiled at his words, her finger touching his lips. "You promise?"

Qingyun turned to look into her eyes, slowly, reluctantly nodding. "Staying alone in Tiandu is dangerous; bringing you to the battlefield would only give Zhan more excuses... You can leave, but stay away from the conflict. On the day I am victorious, I will come for you."

With that, Huang Beishuang turned to the window, pushing open the shutters and called out, "Hong!"

The seven-colored Paradise Bird answered, perching on her finger.

"This is Hong, my King Paradise Bird!" She held it out to Qingyun. "Look, its tail feathers have three colors..."

Qingyun watched in silence, waiting for her to continue.

With a flick of her wrist, Hong flew off again. She turned back with a smile, "Qingyun, I sang the Marriage Song for you and shared the Shared Fate Wine with you. No matter what I do, I will never harm your interests. No matter where I go, whether you win or lose, whether you come for me or not, I will return. And then, I will never leave again. I swear it."

Qingyun's lips involuntarily curved upward at her words, his heart elated, though he tried not to show it. To Huang Beishuang, this expression was all the more endearing. She embraced him tightly, "In my dreams, I never left your side. When dawn breaks, waking me from my sweet dream, I always feel such relief to find you still by my side..." She pressed her face against his, her soft voice revealing the happiness she felt deep within her heart.

In this world, there is nothing more touching to a man than a heartfelt confession from the woman he loves. Qingyun pulled her forcefully into his embrace, and she, like a pearl, radiated an irresistible charm. He kissed her gently, his lips like a promise—tender, sweet, utterly entrancing.

"I love you, I will come for you!" he whispered, holding her close.

The Paradise Bird loves only once in its lifetime—a vow unto life and death.

Trust or doubt, it mattered no more...

The Jiemashu trees of the Guanghan Palace were finally shedding their blossoms, white petals covering the courtyard, merging gradually with the yellow earth. The once-vibrant Guanying Palace, now desolate, yet the young shaman was still as if in a dream. He diligently studied and trained each day, and this determination won the admiration of several young princes, who would visit the Guanying Palace every few days to stir up trouble.

But after the last petal fell from the Jiemashu tree, the master of the Guanghan Palace, Zhan, never returned.

The thirty-day truce was nearing its end. The Yellow Sky's Berserker Regiment stood at Weak Water, glaring menacingly, and Tiandu's hundreds of thousands of soldiers were about to press forward. At this point, no matter how unwilling he was, Zhan could not halt what was to come.

Five days remained before the decisive battle.

Seven days had passed since sending the ten guards and three maids to Tiandu, and still, there was no news. Spies were dispatched, but the answer came back—no trace of the lady was found in Tiandu, and all thirteen envoys had vanished without a trace.

So, Huang Beishuang had slipped from his grasp, just like that. Thinking of this, Zhan chuckled bitterly. To step onto the stage of history—none could be mere mortals.

By the blue riverbank, grasses swayed, and in a fleeting dream, the tides turned!

She was no longer a piece in his game.

She was still his wife in name.

Bloodshed was imminent, yet she had vanished without a trace.

She had truly forsaken the beautiful Jiemashu tree...

And beneath the tree, all was but riddles!

The seven-colored Paradise Bird streaked across the sky, its vibrant colors no less brilliant than the kaleidoscopic evening clouds.

Lian Huan and the other twelve followed Huang Beishuang on horseback until they reached the next hill, where they finally rested, gazing back at Tiandu, now a slender silhouette in the distance.

"Nashou, where do we go from here?" Yepei asked curiously.

Huang Beishuang looked at the distant city wall, now a thin shadow, and smiled. "I decided long ago—we go to Fentian!"

"Fentian?" Daoqiu nearly fell off his horse, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes!" Huang Beishuang nodded emphatically. "In this situation, aside from Qingyun, no one would expect me to go to Fentian. I will take down Ruo Wen there!"

The thirteen were shocked, uncertainty on their faces.

Huang Beishuang turned to look at them, smiling, "Will you still follow me?"

The thirteen exchanged glances and all burst into laughter.

Huang Beishuang smiled as well, and they began their ride to Fentian.

Whether Tiandu or Yunpei, neither would make another move against the Ernaci. Win or lose, it made no difference to them. The only threat was Ruo Wen, stationed at Weak Water. Should his blood riders cross the pass, the Ernaci would surely suffer.

Of course, this thought was somewhat selfish on Huang Beishuang's part. But in truth, if she succeeded, it would rid the desert of a great scourge. Whether she could achieve it or not, she knew she must at least try.

The year 332 AD, Spring Equinox, Yinguang.

The Northern King of Jing sent out his troops, advancing from north to south, marching through Huhe, his vassal state. They formed ranks over three days, drumming fervently each night. Meanwhile, the Southern King of Zhan did the same, dividing his forces into three and inspecting them daily in preparation. The only one whose movements remained unclear was Ruo Wen, a needle among the chaos, his intentions inscrutable. Tiandu feared him, and Yunpei watched warily.

At this point, the dry desert was on the verge of collapse.

Qingyun strides across the vast desert, Beishuang sings the morning song amidst wild sands, Ruo Wen's blood riders threaten the clouds, Zhan—never will this life be reconciled.

...

Upon this stage, between them, who will win and who will lose? Where will they go? Will the answer finally be revealed?