In Yongzhou City, outside the Tiger Division’s encampment, a small speck appeared on the horizon, gradually growing larger and clearer amid the boundless white. The sentry atop the watchtower, blessed with sharp eyesight, recognized the approaching figure almost at once and called out in shock, “The Princess Consort! The Princess Consort has arrived!”
Li Qi, who was on duty, immediately commanded, “Open the city gates!” With that, he led a group of deputy generals and hurried down the tower to meet him.
Xie Jing’s face was covered in the dust of travel, and his hair was in disarray, yet he could not spare a single word for pleasantries. No sooner had he dismounted and steadied his footing than he asked, “Where is Lu Zifeng? Has he been found?”
Li Qi’s expression was grave as he shook his head. “The Great Wall and the interior of Yongzhou cannot be left undefended, so we can only dispatch a small squad of horses to search in rotation every day. However, the riverbank line is too long, and there was a violent blizzard the day before yesterday; even the Yongzhou garrison is finding it difficult to discern directions.”
Xie Jing was silent for a moment before saying calmly, “You only need to lead the generals in guarding the Yongzhou defensive line. If there are no spare hands, it is fine for me to go search alone.”
The generals looked at one another before Li Qi led them in a kneeling salute, saying, “Before His Majesty departed, he left something for the Princess Consort. With this present, we shall all follow Princess Consort’s deployment.”
Xu Jia stepped forward soundlessly and offered an object before Xie Jing’s eyes. It was a thick, scarlet cloak. Xie Jing gazed at it dully, realizing that it had originally belonged to him—at this time last year, while they were both rushing toward their respective duties, they had gathered for one brief night outside Xiapu. Upon parting, Xie Jing had been loath to leave for a long time, and finally untied this cloak, letting Lu Lingcong take it with him to the north to ward off the cold.
Li Qi said, “His Majesty instructed us: ‘Upon seeing this object, it is as if Zhen present in person.’”
Xie Jing reached out as his fingertips sank into the soft, smooth fur. He felt a phantom chill envelop his skin; Lu Lingcong’s warmth no longer lingered upon it. He spoke silently in his heart: What did you mean by leaving this for me? Did you know all along that I would eventually come?
Seeing him lost in thought, Li Qi made a gesture for the surrounding attendants to retreat a few paces. He said in a low voice, “The situation in the capital is not yet entirely stable, and the Crown Prince and Princess are still young. Regarding the next step… the Princess Consort must, by all means, avoid acting on impulse.”
Xie Jing forced a faint smile and offered a slight nod. Suddenly, a commotion erupted behind him. He turned back and saw a white horse burst out from the city gates like a streak of light, ignoring Xu Yi’s urgent shouts from behind as it galloped straight toward him.
“Yi Yun!” Xie Jing gasped. He stepped forward and tightly embraced Yi Yun’s neck. “Why are you here?”
Xu Yi, who was panting, explained, “On the day His Majesty set out for the campaign, Yi Yun ran out from the Eastern Palace early in the morning and stood guard at the city gates. No matter what, she insisted on joining the journey. Neither His Majesty nor the Crown Prince could persuade her otherwise, so they eventually allowed her to follow by instructing us to take good care of her. We never imagined that after trekking with the army, she would prove herself not a bit inferior to the strongest of warhorses. Ever since His Majesty went missing, Yi Yun has refused to return to her stall; she only just heard the Princess Consort’s voice and came charging out again.”
Yi Yun nudged Xie Jing’s shoulder restlessly with her muzzle while leaning in to sniff the scarlet cloak before returning to press against Xie Jing’s palm. She repeated this several times as if urging him on.
A realization stirred in Xie Jing’s heart. He lifted his gaze toward the distance, only to find that although he had reached the city walls moments ago, his footprints from the journey were already being buried beneath the falling snow.
“…The snow will not cease, and it will conceal all traces of coming and going, but the lingering scent of blood endures far longer and is not easily erased.” He turned abruptly toward Yi Yun, crying out, “You remember his scent; you can smell his trail, right!?”
Yi Yun let out a few short whinnies in response. Xie Jing’s heart burned with anxiety; he could not afford to delay for another moment. He shouldered his pack and vaulted onto the horse’s back. For the first time in years, he took hold of Yi Yun’s reins once more, stroking her mane and whispering, “We will go find him together.”
Immediately, he turned to the Tiger Division waiting in battle formation beneath the city walls and spoke in a clear, loud voice, “To those brothers who served with me at Mufu Mountain, I must trouble you to ride with me once again this time. The rest of you shall remain at your posts; none are to leave without authorization. When His Majesty returns, if there are any charges or reprimands to be faced, I shall take them all upon myself!”
Amidst the swirling snow, Xie Jing donned the scarlet cloak wrapped in Lu Lingcong’s scent. It felt as if his old friend were still there, still holding him in his arms while speaking of mountain-strong vows to grow old together.
Thirty thousand elite Tiger Division cavalry knelt as one with their shout shaking the earth like a clap of thunder: “We await your command!”
White snow easily blurs one’s sense of time, and Xie Jing felt a lingering trace of trance-like daze, but Yi Yun’s pace was one of unwavering certainty. Within the Great Wall, perhaps because the traces left by Lu Lingcong were too faint, Yi Yun was slightly slower in choosing a direction. However, with the Tiger Division soldiers following behind, they could confirm that the likelihood of Lu Lingcong remaining within the pass was minimal, and thus they passed through without delay.
Once beyond the Great Wall, the closer they drew to the Wuding River, the more anxious and restless Yi Yun became while searching and sniffing all along the riverbank.
Xie Jing noticed her attention fixed on the river, and it occurred to him that when He Gao had reported the tragic news of Lu Lingzhen’s death, he had mentioned the battle took place on the banks of the Wuding River. Later, when they searched for the Eldest Princess’s remains, it was also along those banks.
He suddenly realized that Lu Lingcong’s relentless pursuit of Ding Jian, to the point of risking his own life, was likely not just for revenge, but to find the whereabouts of Lu Lingzhen’s body.
The Wuding River flowed from the southwest to the northeast in this segment. If a body fell into the water and drifted downstream, it would likely end up much further north. Xie Jing instructed the Tiger Division: “Continue north; set up camp at the lower reaches of the river.”
They traveled without distinction between day and night, carefully discerning the direction of the riverbed, which had frozen over and been buried under layers of snow. Eventually, focusing their search on a flat sandbar in the lower reaches of the Wuding River, the troops split into several teams and fanned out to scour the area.
Yi Yun was exceptionally keen, frequently noticing the scent of fresh blood, though most belonged to animals that had been scavenged by predators and left in the wilderness. It was not until around noon on the third day, when Xie Jing and Yi Yun reached a slightly sloping hill to the northwest, that Yi Yun nudged aside the fresh snow that had fallen that morning. She sniffed at a crevice between some rocks and suddenly froze, moving no further.
“What do you smell?” Xie Jing asked. “Is it human blood? Is it him?”
After a moment of silence, Yi Yun suddenly began to gallop like mad. She dived down along the riverbank while carrying Xie Jing; in an instant, the mountains and the wilderness were thrown behind them, leaving only an endless expanse of white before his eyes.
The momentum was so fierce that the gale whipped snow directly into his face, forcing Xie Jing to temporarily raise his sleeve to shield his eyes. Once the gust passed, he looked up and strained his vision to gaze into the distance. There, amidst the chaotic haze that seemed removed from the mortal realm, an ink-black speck truly appeared within Xie Jing’s sight.
In that flash, the wind seemed to freeze, pinning the fluttering hems of clothes, strands of hair, and snowflakes in mid-air. Yi Yun and he simultaneously captured that single speck of color amidst the vast world; the horse completely ignored the slick ice, snow, and jagged mountain rocks, charging toward Lu Lingcong with reckless abandon.
Xie Jing cried out at the top of his lungs, “Lu Zifeng—!”
Yi Yun was truly too fast. Even Xie Jing could barely maintain his grip on the reins; he had to lower his body, half-crouching behind her neck, and in an instant, they were upon him.
Lu Lingcong’s horse was long gone. His battle robes were in tatters, and dried, darkened blood clung to his silver armor as he trudged through the snow, his steps uneven and heavy.
He likely did not even hear what Xie Jing was shouting; he simply reacted subconsciously to the voice he knew best in the world. Lu Lingcong halted his steps. He stared blankly forward through the messy, damp hair clinging to his forehead. As Xie Jing reached out an arm toward him from horseback, he instinctively moved to grasp Xie Jing’s hand.
For Lu Lingcong, lifting Xie Jing onto the horse with a single arm would have been effortless. But their positions were reversed at this moment—he was clad in armor weighing dozens of jin, while it was Xie Jing who reached out, extending his right arm, which had only recently been freed from its bandages and still bore the faint, threadlike scars left behind by Bone-stripping String.
Yet, in the moment one faces their greatest love, the latent potential that erupts is immeasurable. Xie Jing thought that perhaps back then, beneath the Gongche Gate, his grip on Lu Lingcong’s sword had not been tight enough, his courage not great enough, and his resolve not firm enough—and so Heaven had refused to make an exception to grant him a change of fate.
And so, in this moment, Xie Jing clamped his grip onto Lu Lingcong’s forearm with a death grip, allowing the other party, who was driven by the bone-deep instincts of a lifelong martial artist; to seize his hand, vault onto the horse’s back, and land behind him.
Yi Yun did not pause for a single step. She pivoted in mid-air before leaping across the riverbed and galloping back the way they had come across the frigid ice. Xie Jing blew the Tiger Division horn Li Qi had given him before his departure to signal the soldiers to assemble and lead the way toward Yongzhou.
Lu Lingcong’s arms encircled Xie Jing’s waist, his strength finally giving out as his body slumped against Xie Jing’s back. Only then did the scent of blood, delayed and overwhelming, rush into Xie Jing’s nostrils.
He stole a quick glance downward, and his breath hitched. Lu Lingcong’s hands were bruised a deep, ghastly blue from the cold; his ten fingers were a mangled ruin of flesh and blood, covered in wounds, with nearly half of both thumbnails worn away.
“Lu Zifeng, what on earth have you been doing!?”
Xie Jing’s voice broke with a sob. Holding the reins in his right hand, he freed his left and reached into the scarlet cloak. With frantic, unsteady movements, he pulled at the ties of his outer robe, middle layer, and inner shirt, loosening the fastenings of his upper garments. He grabbed Lu Lingcong’s hands and pulled them inside, pressing them directly against the bare skin of his abdomen.
After trekking through the freezing wasteland for so long, Xie Jing’s body temperature could hardly be called warm, but his belly; the most vulnerable part of him, shielded beneath layers of clothing, was still warm to Lu Lingcong’s hands, which had spent days clawing through snow and jagged stone.
Xie Jing cursed through gritted teeth, “Had I known you would commit such a reckless absurdity, I should have cut these hands off your body that night in Shenlong Hall before you ever set out!”
Lu Lingcong’s jaw rested against his shoulder, his consciousness already hazy. He murmured a few words, but Xie Jing was completely unable to distinguish them.
“What did you say? Lu Lingcong! Don’t you dare fall asleep!”
He cried out repeatedly, “Speak ah! When you’re scolding me, your voice is full of strength. Why have you gone silent now!?”
A sudden weight pressed against his head as Lu Lingcong’s forehead slumped forward. Xie Jing panicked at once, instinctively wanting to turn back and check his condition, but the other party was bearing nearly his full weight against his back; afraid they would both lose balance and fall from the horse, he had no choice but to abandon the thought.
Xie Jing’s teeth chattered. Getting no response, he suddenly exerted a sharp force, biting into the inner palm of his own hand and pressing the seeping blood against Lu Lingcong’s lips. “…Lu Zifeng… Zifeng! Zifeng Gege!”
Whether it was the blood or the address that worked, Lu Lingcong seemed to regain a flicker of reaction. His fingers curled slightly as they brushed against Xie Jing’s skin as he murmured to himself, “I found…”
Xie Jing immediately followed, “What did you find? Don’t sleep, tell me what you found!”
Lu Lingcong seemed to be forcing himself to maintain a shred of clarity. Though his words were blurred, Xie Jing could finally understand them, “Ding Jian said… Zhenzhen… was dragged all the way along the Wuding River… and finally…”
Xie Jing encouraged him, “The Wuding River, along the Wuding River; and then?”
“I searched for five whole days… I searched from the foot of the Great Wall all the way here. I searched every place I could… I overturned every single stone…”
Lu Lingcong’s voice grew weaker and weaker as he spoke. “I only found… this.”
His fingertips twitched again. Xie Jing lowered his hand, reaching into the folds of his robes to search. After a long moment, his fingers brushed against something Lu Lingcong had hidden in his sleeve, waiting to give to him.
The texture made Xie Jing freeze.
He withdrew his hand and looked closely. Lying in his palm was the very bracelet he had braided for Lu Lingzhen all those years ago.
Most of the colored threads were snapped and worn beyond recognition, yet a faint trace of color still clung to them. Beside the faded hues were rust-like bloodstains—not fresh but likely to belong to its original owner.
The hair ties used to braid that bracelet had once been so bright and vibrant; in the end, he had never fulfilled Lu Lingcong’s request to braid one with even more colors…
A loud ring echoed in Xie Jing’s head, and tears instantly blurred his vision.
Lu Lingcong’s voice gradually faded, becoming like a mumble in a dream. “Zhiwu… I no longer have a sister.”
Xie Jing clumsily wiped his tears with his elbow, the wind cutting into his face with a sharp, stinging pain. He choked out through his sobs, “Lu Zifeng, you have lost a sister, and I have lost an elder brother. From this day forward, just treat me as your own flesh-and-blood brother. I will stay by your side for the rest of the journey in Zhenzhen’s place. Can you please not leave me again? I will call you ‘Gege’ in Zhenzhen’s place… is that alright? Gege?”
Lu Lingcong’s arms tightened around him from behind, and he seemed to let out a low, faint reply, “Alright.”
Xie Jing’s words came out in a disorganized tumble as if he weren’t sure whether he was speaking to Lu Lingcong or jolting his own soul into a state of stark clarity:
“Freedom and restraint, growing up or remaining stagnant; I might have my grievances, my moments of hesitation and indecision. But life and death are different. Life and death are momentous matters, yet they are also the simplest; they require no such deliberation.”
“Lu Zifeng, what would it matter even if I died for you?”
This time, Lu Lingcong gave no answer at all.
Yi Yun flew across the snowy plains as if immune to exhaustion, traversing mountains and ridges as though they were level ground, galloping through the night toward the city’s edge. The tents of the Tiger Division gradually came into view, their lights a muted, warm orange; a quiet, homely glow that kept vigil, casting illumination over the white barracks on one side and the snow-covered path on the other.
At the very least, it was a symbol of “life.”
Li Qi and the other generals, along with the newly appointed prefectural and county officials of Yongzhou and the military physicians, had already received words and were waiting in a dense crowd outside the camp gate. Without any unnecessary instructions from Xie Jing, they moved in unison before surging forward to take Lu Lingcong from his back and carry him into the main tent.
Xie Jing tried to follow them quickly, but his legs were trembling so violently he could not even stand. He tumbled from the horse and collapsed onto his knees, his body trembling uncontrollably and his heart pounding wildly. He tried several times to push himself up from the ground.
While he was struggling, a heavy, dull thud sounded behind him, followed immediately by the startled cries of the surrounding soldiers.
Xie Jing froze. A surge of dread flooded his limbs and bones. He shuddered and slowly, mechanically, turned his head—and there, within his sight, was a single cloud of white stained by the dust of the world.
Yi Yun lay collapsed on the ground, the brilliance of the thousand-mile divine steed withering away in an instant. The moment Lu Lingcong had been delivered into the hands of those who could save his life, she let out the breath she had held for days, paying back her overextended lifespan at a terrifying speed.
Xie Jing crawled on his knees, nearly throwing himself against Yi Yun’s neck while screaming her name, but the ringing in his ears rendered him deaf to his own voice. In that moment, he realized with haunting clarity that a light, romantic spirit within his own frame was truly, vividly dying.
Yi Yun let out one final high, piercing shriek, convulsed a few times, and died of utter exhaustion.
Xie Jing could hold on no longer. Overwhelmed by a desolate, agonizing grief, he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
