The Winds and Clouds of the Desert

The desert is a place that evokes solitude. No matter how majestic and beautiful it appears at first glance, it remains forever indifferent—silent, unloving, with no affection for anyone or anything. It is blistering, freezing, desolate, hopeless. No one would ever love it, yet many people live within its heart, live in its veins, tied inexorably to the scattered oases that are part of it. Only when even the oases wither away will life and death entwine, and only then will people find true acceptance.

The army of Tiandu had been away from home for a long time, but unexpectedly returned at this moment. It was neither a triumphant return nor a retreat—merely a pause, as if to rest, to drink the waters of their homeland, to look once more at the sky of their native land. For soldiers, any reason to stop fighting is a blessing, especially when the conflict that was abruptly halted might have destroyed half the desert. Now disarmed, the soldiers eagerly hurried home to reassure their families, paying no further heed to the woman whom the Northern King Jing had spared no effort to bring back.

"Physician! How is she?" Qinyun sat by the bedside, his face worn and haggard. The woman lying there was the one who, even when grievously injured, refused to say a word, seemingly wishing to die in his arms. His gaze was tinged with unspoken fury as he watched the imperial physicians who had toiled all night. His voice was cold: "The military doctors stopped the bleeding several times along the way—she shouldn’t be at death’s door."

The imperial physician bowed with a furrowed brow before responding, "Your Majesty, this young lady's body is frail, and her wounds were not properly treated. She has suffered too much, and... I fear a full recovery will be difficult."

Qinyun's hands clenched tightly. "What do you mean?"

Sensing the tension, the physicians immediately knelt. "Your Majesty, the wounds are deep, and she has lost too much blood. Scarring is inevitable."

Only then did Qinyun loosen his grip, his expression unreadable. "Is her life in danger?"

The physicians shook their heads hastily. "Rest assured, Your Majesty, she has passed the critical phase and needs only careful recuperation. In time, she will recover. However, her health may never be as strong as before; anemia will likely plague her for life."

Qinyun turned his head, looking at Huang Beishuang, who lay peacefully asleep on the bed. He reached over and gently stroked her forehead. Even her eyelashes were dotted with sweat, and a surge of tenderness rose within him—an emotion he could not suppress. Almost forgetting the physicians present, he leaned in slowly, placing a soft kiss upon her cheek, savoring the faint breath against his lips as though bewitched.

The physicians, still kneeling, exchanged awkward glances, unsure whether to speak or quietly withdraw, their faces filled with uncertainty.

"Miao Jing!" Qinyun finally stood, calling the commander of the palace guard as he sat by the table. "Arrange for Mangliu's people to care for her! From now on, I want every examination by the imperial physicians conducted in my presence."

Miao Jing nodded. Qinyun smiled and then strode out of the room.

As soon as the Northern King left, the physicians exhaled in relief, rising wearily to their feet. From the moment they returned to the palace, His Majesty had not rested for an entire day and night, watching over them while they treated the young woman.

"Lord Miao!" one of the older physicians asked hesitantly, "Who is this girl? How should we address her in the future?"

Miao Jing looked back at Huang Beishuang, who lay on the bed, and thought for a moment before answering, "Uh... call her 'Your Ladyship.' As for anything else, mind your own business."

How should she be addressed? No one knew who she was to him.

How should she be addressed? There was too much emotion to be explained in mere words.

How should she be addressed? Perhaps she should not be called anything at all.

Silence was best. Only in silence, someday, would they learn how he truly felt about her.

Fentian.

Ruo Wen had pursued her for an entire day, only to return empty-handed. Now, he sat in the room where the beauty had been kept, his face dark and brooding. His rage was unappeasable, and none dared to console him. He seized the blanket that Huang Beishuang had used—it no longer carried the slightest warmth. It was as though her lively charm from that night had been nothing but a fleeting spring dream. How could it be? Just a mere woman, not an elusive wisp of smoke, yet so difficult to grasp. Even when seemingly within his grasp, she had managed to slip away.

Manhu and the others stood outside, not daring to enter. Before long, Ge Xinwei and Ruo Lanfeng arrived with wine, knocking three times on the door. A cold voice called from inside, "Who?"

"Chief, it's us. You asked for wine, and we've brought it," Ruo Lan replied.

"Come in," Ruo Wen said.

The three women entered, the door creaking shut behind them.

"Do you think the Chief will kill them?" Manhu asked blankly, feeling the atmosphere suggested those three women wouldn't make it out.

"Times like this, I'm just glad I'm not a woman," Langtou said with a sly grin, brushing the dust off his pants as he stood. "Come on. Once the Chief calms down, there'll definitely be some big moves. Who cares about them—they're just bed warmers."

"Oh, so Huang Beishuang isn't just a bed warmer?" Manhu muttered discontentedly.

Langtou looked at his disgruntled, pudgy face and laughed. "Let's wait until the Chief actually has her in bed, then we'll see. Every time she's mentioned, I get irritated—like she's here to ruin our fun."

Manhu nodded, the two of them glancing back at the tightly closed door before turning to leave.

Tiandu, Ice Thorn Palace.

Huang Beishuang awoke, her eyes not yet fully open, and her delicate brows already furrowing from the lingering pain of her wound. Instinctively, she glanced around, spotting Qinyun sitting beside her, engrossed in a book. The night was late, the hour unknown. He sat by the bed, the room brightly lit, seemingly lost in his reading, unaware she had awoken.

Huang Beishuang watched him quietly—he was truly handsome. His long black hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his disheveled fringe moved slightly with the breeze. Though his features were finely chiseled, there was an undeniable wildness that lay beneath the surface, hidden yet present. His tightly pressed lips seemed capable of issuing commands that could shake the world. In just a few days, this man had caused her to lose all feelings for Na Zhan.

"Have you seen enough?" Qinyun asked, his eyes still on the book, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Sensing her gaze, he was genuinely pleased to see her awake. "Do you have anything to say?"

Huang Beishuang sat up. "I'm hungry."

Qinyun put down the book and clapped his hands. Immediately, a maid entered with a prepared meal, as if they had been awaiting this moment.

Huang Beishuang gazed at the delicious dishes before her, swallowing hard, grabbing the chopsticks to dig in, only to be stopped by Qinyun. He tasted each dish, one by one, before setting down his chopsticks. "Go ahead."

It was clearly to test for poison. She hadn't expected Qinyun to be so cautious, even in his own palace.

"Eat. Aren't you hungry?" Qinyun smiled knowingly at her expression.

"Will it always be like this?" Huang Beishuang asked while eating.

"..." Qinyun's gaze grew cold. "It will always be like this." He then stood up, walked over to the bed, drew the curtains, and lay down. "I've watched over you for a day and a night—I need some rest. This is my room, and from now on, you'll live here too."

Huang Beishuang looked at the thick, dark green curtains and whispered, "There's only one bed."

"Then share it with me," came Qinyun's firm reply.

Huang Beishuang blushed at his words, her heartbeat quickening, and she quickly bowed her head to focus on her meal. After she finished eating, she spent a while wandering idly around the room, gazing at the moon, then at the patterns on the carpet, until she finally managed to calm herself. Taking a deep breath, she slipped through the bed curtains. The moment she climbed onto the bed, Qinyun opened his eyes, startling her into hesitation, not daring to slide under the covers.

Qinyun smiled, lifting the blanket to draw her into his arms. They both closed their eyes, their soft yet fiery breaths intertwining.

"Thinking about it, we seem to have very few memories together," Huang Beishuang murmured against his chest.

"What kind of memories do you want? How long do you want them to last? A day? Two days? A month? A year? Or perhaps, a lifetime?" Qinyun chuckled. "From now on, we can create as many as you wish."

Huang Beishuang smiled too. "You never beat around the bush—every word is sincere."

At her heartfelt words, Qinyun opened his eyes, lowering his gaze to the woman who still had her eyes closed, smiling like an innocent child. Her lips were so close—full and tempting. He leaned in slowly, and by the time she opened her eyes, his lips had already brushed against the sweetness he had long dreamt of.

With him, Huang Beishuang never resisted. Her view was simple: if the one touching her was her beloved, then all hesitation and rejection would be nothing but hypocrisy. Time is ruthless, fleeting, and irretrievable; therefore, she chose not to indulge in such coy games. Even if passion fades as quickly as it arises, it remains an undeniable truth.

"Sleep," Qinyun whispered, releasing her after a long moment. "Tomorrow, Miao Jing will take you on a tour of Ice Thorn Palace."

Ice Thorn Palace, the administrative palace of Tiandu, was an ancient and complex structure. Though it lacked the ornate splendor of Cloudy Moon Palace in Yunpei, its majestic solemnity was no less impressive. It comprised two hundred and forty-seven halls, with over four thousand serving maids, the court hall positioned at the front, the concubine halls in the middle, and the royal sleeping chambers at the rear. The courtyards and pagodas stood symmetrically on either side, and from the mountaintop, the entire palace resembled an ice spike—hence its name, Ice Thorn.

In the year 322 AD, Ice Thorn Palace was completed, and two women ascended to the peak, bringing unity to the world. In 324 AD, one of them passed away, while the other was deposed. Since then, the Northern King had taken no concubine or wife, leaving the harem desolate to this day.

"Her Ladyship's condition is stable. A tour of Ice Thorn Palace should be fine," said the imperial physician early the next morning, after checking Huang Beishuang's pulse for a long while, finally giving Qinyun a satisfactory answer. He insisted on wrapping her in a thick fur cloak before summoning Miao Jing.

"And you?" Huang Beishuang asked, looking at the man still lying in bed.

"Sleeping. Didn't get a good night's rest." Qinyun turned his head away, avoiding her gaze. With her scent lingering all night, if he could have slept well, he wouldn't be a man.

Miao Jing, standing nearby, stifled a laugh and quickly covered his mouth. Bowing to Huang Beishuang, he said, "My Lady, please, this way." He then led her out, closing the door behind them to let the self-sabotaging king have a proper rest.

"This is His Majesty's chamber—the deepest part of Ice Thorn Palace," Miao Jing said, leading Huang Beishuang outside. They turned to look back for a moment.

Huang Beishuang smiled. "So, no matter who comes to His Majesty's chambers, it's all quite clear, isn't it?"

Miao Jing nodded. "You are very perceptive, My Lady," he said as he led her eastward. "Ice Thorn Palace is an unfeeling place. It holds no affection for any king. Even for His Majesty, living here is a hardship."

"I can imagine—caution even with meals." Huang Beishuang observed the simple yet elegant bridges around her as she followed Miao Jing. This was where Qinyun lived.

"When did His Majesty start drinking poison wine?" she asked as they walked.

Miao Jing sighed. "At ten years old. His Majesty's mother held a high status, being the daughter of the prime minister, so... life was far more perilous for him compared to other princes and princesses. I don’t mind telling you, My Lady, the most common thing in Ice Thorn Palace is poisoning—something known across the realm. The royal dignity was once shattered by it."

Huang Beishuang's gaze darkened. "So young. How could he endure the poison wine?"

Leading her south, Miao Jing finally replied, "The first time His Majesty drank it, he vomited blood until he fainted. The consort forbade him from drinking more, but he insisted, drinking every day—from a cup to a jar, from vomiting and fainting to now drinking it like water. You can't imagine the hardship he endured."

Huang Beishuang nodded slowly. "He was born with the spirit of a king."

Miao Jing smiled as he began to lead her north again. After about half an hour, a magnificent palace came into view. In contrast to the rest of Ice Thorn Palace, this place stood out. The red and white pillars were vibrant, and the walls depicted lifelike celestial beings of the heavenly court. At the entrance grew a beautiful patch of pale yellow water trees, their blossoms delicate and fragrant, favored by the nobility for their elegance. Due to their rarity, their market price was exorbitant.

"Someone lives here... a woman?" Huang Beishuang paused at the door. "The royal consort? Or... a queen?"

Miao Jing bowed slightly and sighed. "You are indeed observant, My Lady. This palace used to house the consort. After her passing, the Northern Queen resided here."

"The Northern Queen?" Huang Beishuang froze, turning to leave. "Why did you bring me to see her?" Her expression revealed unmistakable irritation.

Miao Jing hurried forward, explaining, "My Lady, the woman living here now is a deposed queen. Did you not know? His Majesty has no official wife at present."

Startled by his flustered explanation, Huang Beishuang realized her own loss of composure. She nodded awkwardly and followed Miao Jing inside. The palace was indeed beautiful—artificial cliffs, meticulously groomed flowers and trees, not a stone out of place, with maids stationed along the path at regular intervals, creating an atmosphere of tranquility that seemed almost unreal. It was hard to believe that such luxury was afforded to a deposed queen.

"My Lady!" a sudden, clear voice called out. Huang Beishuang turned her head—it wasn't directed at her. Not far away, a maid ran to the palace's true mistress, catching her breath before saying urgently, "My Lady, His Majesty is angry. He said if you don't rest properly, he won't come to see you anymore." The words were spoken loudly and clearly. To Huang Beishuang's ears, they were obviously a lie. The woman sitting in the pavilion, her face smeared with ink, looked up, her eyes vacant. "Why won't His Majesty come to see me? Why won't he come?" she muttered.

The maid quickly wiped her face and coaxed her like a child. "His Majesty said you're ill and might infect him. When you're better, he'll come see you." She patted the woman's back, urging her—the Northern Queen, who looked about the same age as Qinyun—back inside. The woman stared blankly at some unseen vision, repeating, "Why won't His Majesty come to see me?" over and over as the maids escorted her away, passing Miao Jing and Huang Beishuang.

Once the woman was gone and her voice faded, Huang Beishuang shivered slightly, walking slowly to the lonely pavilion to sit down. On the table lay the woman's writings—meaningless, indecipherable characters.

After a long silence, Miao Jing finally spoke, "His Majesty once had two queens—he was fifteen at the time. To balance the warring factions of generals and ministers, he chose a candidate from each side. The now-insane Northern Queen was the third daughter of the prime minister. Her name was Shuilan. The other queen, from the General’s House, was Liao Ye, the Southern Queen."

"Liao Ye?" Huang Beishuang frowned. "Is she related to General Liao Zhen?"

Miao Jing nodded. "The General’s cousin."

Huang Beishuang smiled faintly at Miao Jing. "Sit down. It seems you have quite a story to tell."

Miao Jing stared at the woman before him, as gentle as spring rain yet as aloof as winter snow, stunned for a long while before sitting down dazedly.

The complex Ice Thorn Palace, the perilous Ice Thorn Palace—where should he begin?

...

At fifteen, Qinyun was young and brash, already capable of things beyond the abilities of others. Beyond his unmatched talent in both strategy and combat, his extraordinary looks alone had caused many noble ladies to secretly admire him. Yet not a single noble family in Huairou dared propose marriage. The reason was simple—regardless of whose daughter she was, even if she married into Ice Thorn Palace and became queen, she would soon end up a widow. The fate of the Northern King Jing's mother served as a warning.

The young Northern King Jing had only been in power for a year and lacked the means to crush the malevolent factions. To keep the balance, he chose one girl from each side as his queen, forcing them to keep each other in check. Thus, two girls of his own age entered the palace, to live beside him day and night.

People—no matter the circumstances of their birth—cannot remain indifferent in the face of loneliness, especially at such a tender age. As time passed, they spent their days together, sharing the same bed. Gradually, the young king began to favor the Southern Queen, Liao Ye, from a family of generals. The reason was simple: Shuilan loved to speak in riddles, every word laden with hidden meaning—a woman full of schemes. Liao Ye, in contrast, was straightforward and spirited, often sparring with him, which made her seem much simpler. At that time, Qinyun’s choice of a woman had nothing to do with love or affection. Neither of these two girls were his willing choice as queens, but at least he had the right to prefer one over the other. Unsurprisingly, Liao Ye became pregnant before Shuilan.

The three of them, their combined age not even forty, faced threats and intrigue on all sides. The two girls, backed by rival factions, were constantly at odds. Within four months, the pregnant Liao Ye was poisoned, her unborn child lost. The culprit was none other than Shuilan. Such plots were commonplace in Ice Thorn Palace, with the true orchestrators being those scheming nobles and ministers seeking to secure their positions.

To quell the fury of the generals, the Northern King Jing deposed the Northern Queen, and used the opportunity to strip the prime minister of power, consolidating authority with General Liao Zhen. At fifteen, he felt no remorse for the two young girls who had once shared his bed.

Although they were both powerless to control their fates...

Huang Beishuang sat in the pavilion, listening to Miao Jing speak until this point, then she looked up at the sky and sighed sorrowfully. Miao Jing paused, sensing her mood. "My Lady?"

Huang Beishuang's gaze was distant, almost like the vacant eyes of the now-mad Shuilan. "Why is His Majesty so kind to a woman who has committed such a grave mistake?"

Miao Jing was stunned, unable to answer for a long while.

Huang Beishuang smiled bitterly. "Before power, there is no justice. His Majesty knew well that Shuilan, manipulated by the ministers, deliberately harmed Liao Ye, yet he chose to feign ignorance. And when he finally had the chance to bring down those treacherous ministers, Shuilan was left even more isolated and vulnerable. She must have loved His Majesty—loved this extraordinary man she married, without realizing that all he saw in her was her father who had corrupted the court."

Miao Jing was horrified by her words, hurriedly kneeling beside her. "My Lady! You and His Majesty are of the same kind—when it comes to power, both of you have your own hearts. Neither good, nor evil."

Huang Beishuang leaned forward, looking down at the kneeling Miao Jing. "And now, lost in her yearning, her youthful years wasted in madness—only now does His Majesty pity her, because they once shared the bond of husband and wife?"

Miao Jing raised his head, finding Huang Beishuang's face inches away, her expression beguiling yet as cold as winter's snow. Her lips, a shade of orange-red, bore a mysterious smirk—part mockery, part acceptance. Startled, he quickly lowered his head again. "My Lady, His Majesty brought you here because he wanted you to know all this."

Huang Beishuang smiled, rising to adjust the fur cloak wrapped around her. "I understand. That's enough for today. Let us return."

Miao Jing finally stood, following closely behind her as they made their way back. As they walked, he marveled at how similar she was to His Majesty. Despite the complex and labyrinthine terrain of Ice Thorn Palace, with its crisscrossing paths, she needed only one guided walk to find her way back perfectly on her own.

Huang Beishuang walked ahead for a long time, unaware of Miao Jing's tumultuous thoughts behind her. He remained silent throughout, deep in thought. As they neared Qinyun's chamber, she suddenly turned and smiled at him. "Do you know why Shuilan and Liao Ye met such tragic ends? It was because they lost their direction. Between His Majesty and their own factions, they could only choose one. Choosing both, or neither—that's what was truly fatal. Thank you for telling me all this today. Whatever choice I make in the future, I won't regret it."

Miao Jing stood dumbfounded at the door, watching her enter the palace. For a long while, he couldn't find any words.

Choosing something and losing something—these have always been equal. If it doesn't feel fair, it's because you're too greedy.

In life, a person must have at least one thing they remain committed to, unwavering. Only then will they be worthy of admiration and respect. For Huo Qinyun, it was the dignity of being a king. And for her? Was it the seven thousand Ernaci people who had taken root in Yunpei? Or the war of King Zhan, where every move was crucial? Or perhaps it was this love that had come upon her as swiftly and fiercely as a storm? Regardless of how difficult her choices were, she would never avoid them.

Pushing the door open, she saw that Qinyun was already awake, still sitting at the desk reading. When he saw her return, he gave only a faint smile. Huang Beishuang stood at the door for a long time, her eyes locked on him.

"Standing so far away—can you see clearly?" Qinyun put down his book, looking back at her with an expressionless face. "Or are you beginning to fear what you might see?"

His voice was cold, and laced with tension.

Huang Beishuang removed her cloak at the door and walked towards him, step by step, her face devoid of emotion. "And you? Have you seen me clearly?"

Qinyun looked at her—her ethereal coldness seemed out of place in the opulence of the palace. Her gray eyes held a trace of arrogance, always capable of mesmerizing him, yet never allowing him to truly see through her. He stood, their proximity making her seem even smaller, her sweet fragrance carrying a teasing allure.

"I don’t know. Perhaps, as you said, the memories between us are far too few." Qinyun touched her face, smooth as jade—indeed, the time they had spent together was so brief that he could count their encounters on his fingers. He remembered the second time he saw her; knowing well she was King Zhan’s woman, yet unable to control his racing heart until he saw her again.

"Even I am surprised—why do I feel so much for you? I abandoned a battle halfway through. Am I a foolish king? Or merely a fool—a fool willing to be played by you?" He pulled her to him, his powerful arm lifting her off the ground, setting her on the desk. His eyes were fixed on her face.

"Who would dare take you for a fool..." Huang Beishuang smiled softly. "Neither Ruo Wen nor Na Zhan has ever gained the upper hand against you. Such words do not befit you."

Qinyun laughed aloud, his grip on her waist tightening, making her gasp in surprise. In an instant, his forehead pressed against hers. "I will understand you—everything about you."

Huang Beishuang’s heart ached at his words. She was an easy person to understand, but feared that once he truly knew her, he would be furious—furious for a long, long time, so angry that he might never think of her again.

After a moment, she closed her eyes and whispered, "I have something I want to give you. It's yours."

"What is it?" Qinyun kissed her forehead, his tone teasing. "Another jade ring?"

Huang Beishuang chuckled, her voice melodious and enchanting. "I wish to give you a lotus flower."

Qinyun paused. "A lotus?"

Huang Beishuang smiled seductively, like a lotus in full summer bloom. She gazed at the puzzled Qinyun, leaning in slowly, her crimson tongue tracing his eyelids until he couldn't open his eyes. Teased by her for a long while, Qinyun finally grabbed her, his voice hoarse. "You're still injured..." But before he could finish, Huang Beishuang stood before him, her clothes discarded, dressed only in her undergarments. Despite the two deep scars on her chest, they couldn't mar the alluring beauty radiating from her—the ivory skin, the prominent collarbone, the perfect, faintly visible curves, and... on her right arm, a three-petaled lotus in quiet bloom.

Like a man possessed, Qinyun's gaze was fixed on that lotus flower, his hand moving of its own accord to gently touch it. The moment he made contact, she trembled slightly, as if overwhelmed. Qinyun suddenly lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed, his large hand drawing the thick, dark green curtain, shrouding the room in shadow.

"Have you thought it through?" he whispered breathlessly, leaning over her.

"Unless you haven't." Huang Beishuang smiled, her arms wrapping tightly around him.

"I love you!" she murmured, her words almost a dream. "The whole world may say this isn’t love, but I will not. The whole world may think this is nothing more than a fleeting night, but I won’t. They say men love many women in a lifetime, and women can fall for countless men. But I, Huang Beishuang, disdain such things. In this life, the only one I love is Qinyun."

Her words were slow and simple, yet like his own, they were heartfelt, each one striking Qinyun's heart, urging his wildly beating chest. His hands, braced on either side of her, were trembling, his breath uneven and heavy, as if it were saying, I love you too...

Qinyun swallowed hard, his slightly parted lips damp with nervous sweat, inching closer to her. The thin distance between them drove him mad with thirst. Seeing him pause so rigidly, Huang Beishuang smiled. In truth, she was nervous too. Who would have thought that being intimate with someone you love would be such a nerve-wracking thing...

Yet, feeling the droplets of his sweat fall on her chest, she suddenly found him endearing—like a child, like that lonely fifteen-year-old Qinyun.

"I am yours... forever."

At her words, Qinyun gasped deeply, and all his hesitation vanished. He kissed her fiercely, his hands hastily untying her skirt, his fervent kisses spreading like the web of a mayfly. His touch was urgent, the intensity of their entwined bodies pushing Huang Beishuang to the edge, a soft moan escaping her throat, brief and light. It drove Qinyun to the brink, claiming her completely. "You..." In that instant, he froze. "How can this be!"

Huang Beishuang furrowed her brow, enduring the pain, unable to speak for a long moment.

Such a beautiful virgin queen—there was unlikely to be another like her in this world. Given the determination of Na Zhan and Ruo Wen, he had never imagined Huang Beishuang would still be untouched. He had hurt her—hurt her with desire, with her silent consent.

"Fool! Why didn't you say something earlier!" Qinyun held her tightly, not moving an inch. "Does it hurt?" His question was direct and simple. Huang Beishuang froze, her face flushed, her head resting against his chest. "No... it doesn't hurt."

Qinyun laughed softly, his hand once again caressing the woman in his arms. Beneath the thick, dark green curtain, he truly, completely, plucked that one-of-a-kind lotus.

Memories—like a legend in the wind, twisting and turning...

Love—a timeless riddle, passed down through generations...

Does anyone know that embracing a lover is another form of eternity? Even when passion fades, the indescribable happiness and sweetness of that moment will remain in the heart, unwavering until death.

Only in that moment does loneliness become insignificant.

Miao Jing and the imperial physicians lingered by the door for a long time. Before long, a maid came out and nodded at Miao Jing. "His Majesty said that Imperial Physician Shi should go in alone."

Miao Jing took a cautious glance inside before smiling. "Uh... Ping'er, make sure to serve the meals well—don’t let His Majesty go hungry." He then turned to the other physicians. "Imperial Physician Shi, go in. Keep your eyes to yourself, and leave immediately after the examination."

Imperial Physician Shi nodded quickly and shuffled inside.

This was the third day, and it had been like this every day.

Miao Jing stood guard at the door, thinking to himself that His Majesty was indeed acting rather out of character this time. Yet, strangely, he felt a sense of relief—indescribable, as if he should thank the heavens for finally showing favor to this lone king who had always gone against the current, standing apart from the world. His Majesty had never trusted anyone, let alone lavished such affection on a woman as he did now. This turn of events meant that Tiandu and Yunpei would likely never reconcile, for at the very least, His Majesty would not forget that Huang Beishuang was still Na Zhan's queen.

Once the thirty-day ceasefire ended, who knew what would happen? But even if it was only thirty days, it would allow this fated pair to indulge in each other. In that sense, Miao Jing truly felt a weight lifted.

The majestic Guanghan Palace had been without its mistress for an entire month, leaving Na Zhan as its sole occupant. On the table before him sat a jug of clear wine and a chessboard—a game he always lost to the same opponent.

Reports had confirmed that the Northern King Jing had indeed taken Huang Beishuang from Ruo Wen without losing a single soldier. Now, surely, he held her in his arms—a delight that must be unparalleled. At this thought, Na Zhan took a sip of cold wine, his gaze lingering on his wife, his chess, the woman he had never touched. At this moment, was she entwined with that handsome man, lost in the throes of passion? Without the slightest resistance, and without a hint of coldness—so different from her time in Guanghan Palace.

Na Zhan rose and walked to the pavilion column, gazing down at Guanying Palace. In the courtyard, the snow-white "Jie Ma" trees were still in bloom, standing out vividly. He remembered the shaman telling him the story of those trees...

Long ago, there was a mute girl who fell in love with a general. But the general, always on horseback, never noticed the young girl who stood by the roadside, watching him day after day. Unable to express her love, she cried herself to sleep every night. One day, her tears fell to the earth, and tender sprouts began to grow. These lovely saplings comforted the lonely girl, and she began caring for them diligently, undeterred by wind or rain. Over time, the trees grew, reaching just shy of the height of an average man, and then they stopped growing.

One day, the general passed by that road again. Suddenly, the grayish-yellow buds of the trees burst into bloom, their white petals dazzlingly beautiful. Seeing the flowers, the general realized that these trees were too low to pass on horseback without being obstructed by their blossoms. However, he couldn't bear to cut down something so lovely, so he dismounted and walked along the path. At its end, he saw a girl as beautiful as the flowers. Though she was silent, her eyes were filled with deep love. The general approached her, holding her tightly beneath the white blossoms, and they spent a night of passion together.

The general later went to war and never returned. All the girl had was that one night of intimacy. Yet she was content, living happily with the trees that had brought her beloved to her. She named them "Jie Ma" trees—trees that made the general dismount.

Na Zhan looked at the white rings of the five-petaled blossoms below and took another sip of cold wine.

Of course, he couldn't believe in such an absurd notion—tears that could grow trees. What truly unsettled him was why Huang Beishuang had planted those trees. Who did she hope would dismount for her? She had never considered him at all.

Gazing at the still-bright moon above, Na Zhan smirked coldly. He had never chosen love, and this time, he would not back down either. If the Northern King Jing could retreat for a single chess piece, then in the next game, the one who lost would undoubtedly be him. For Na Zhan, all the devotion of his life was bound to Yunpei alone—unchangeable, everlasting.

Next time we meet, I will not lose to you—Northern King Jing, Huo Qinyun.

Snow chills, yet worldly affairs remain; frost passes, but the green pines endure.Unresolved hatred lies within these borders; one desires to ascend Guanghan to hear the wind's whisper.Chang'e may be weary of solitude, but heroes still yearn to lift their cups.Time and again, passion brings armies to the city; even in another life, there would be no regrets.