Before Reading (Must read)
- The dynasty is fictional, the official system is mixed, but place names and palace names are verifiable.
- Mpreg: It can be considered an ABO world without heat cycles or pheromones. The Gong is an Alpha and cannot bear children; the Shou is an Omega and can. Everyone assumes he can, so it won’t be explicitly addressed in the main text.
- There will be many scenes with children, and they will call the Gong and Shou “Father” and “Mother” because using “Father” and “Daddy” is a huge turn-off for me, it makes me cringe just seeing it and writing it myself has the same effect.
- This is not a serious political drama; I’m not skilled at that. Its core is about love, family, and friendship, and its scope is modest rather than grand.
- Regarding “Reunion After Separation”: this term originally has two meanings. One refers to a couple separated for a long time finally coming back together, and the other to a couple whose relationship has broken down but later reconciles. The classical usage is the first, and this novel follows that meaning as well.
- The structure of this text follows a dual timeline of “reality” and “memories” running in parallel. Each switch in the timeline is indicated in the chapter title. Reading in chronological order isn’t necessary: you can first complete the main chapter to grasp the overall background, then move through the memories chapters, and finally return to the reality chapters.
From the depths of the gathering clouds, one gazes toward the Three Passes; beyond them lie heartbreak upon heartbreak, mountain after mountain.
As far as the eye could see were ridges like hidden dragons and crouching tigers, their towering peaks blotting out most of the already distant borderland sky.
The rising and falling lines of ten thousand ravines were grounded into the vast drifting dust with heaven and earth blending into one, leaving only the few strokes of a lone wild goose breaking through the slender sky.
From where the eyesight cannot reach, a sharp, piercing bugle call rings out, instantly cutting through the boundless mass of dust, startling the wild geese to cry out in strange harmony, mournfully and ceaselessly, circling for a long time.
Just at the end of the yellow sands, a lone rider on a magnificent white steed came thundering in with a long spear in hand, cutting a path of clarity straight through the boundless drifting dust.
As the dust cleared, at the meeting point of heaven and earth stretched, like a long coiling serpent, the Great Qi’s Tiger Division—infamous for having washed three thousand miles of wilderness in blood and sending shivers through the people of the Northen Desert at the mere mention of their name.”
Thousands of battle flags flap in the wind, their crimson flame patterns licking the bold, unrestrained character “Lu” at the center like tongues of fire.
The enemy general was struck with terror, his eyes wide, and his face drained of color.
They have long been nomadic in Northen Desert and are intimately familiar with the mountains and terrain of this area; thus, they dared to confidently march during the day under the cover of the wind and sand. How could they have anticipated these unexpected guests, seeming to descend from the heavens, to suddenly appear in the middle of their path?
The iron-hooved horses thundered as if on level ground, while the elite cavalry behind him swiftly dealt with the riffraff blocking the way. Therefore, though the ground along his path was instantly stained red, the silver spear stayed brilliantly clean, and, like applying a small force to move a great weight, it shattered the formation and drove straight through.
As weapons collided, the horse reared, its front hooves rising, while the spear’s tip aimed straight at the enemy general’s face.
The enemy general lifted his saber to counter, but the blade’s rapid flashes unnerved him, making it difficult to parry directly, and after several exchanges he still couldn’t strike a vital spot.
In contrast, that person appeared somewhat careless in his hooking, sweeping, swinging, and stabbing, as if intentionally toying with the opponent.
As he raised his spear and drew it back, his lifted left arm shifted his armor, exposing a jade disc fastened at his waist, which swung in a wide arc with the turn of his torso.
However, the enemy general’s blind saber tip passed through the air and, by chance, cut the knot, causing the jade disc to instantly fall off and drop weakly into the dust and sand beneath their feet.
That person’s expression instantly changed; his eyes, originally difficult to discern whether they held sorrow or joy, were instantly filled with seventy percent killing intent and thirty percent brutality. The movements in his hand abruptly became fierce; the spear’s tip brought cold light everywhere it went, and the blade wind caused the grass and trees to rustle.
In a mere snap of the fingers, he ruthlessly took the enemy leader’s head.
The Tiger Division’s single-line serpent formation had connected end-to-end, locking down the retreat path of the remaining bandits, and they now stood sternly with their sabers drawn, awaiting orders.
He gripped the long spear reversed over his shoulder, standing directly before the corpse of the enemy general. He coldly scanned the remaining enemy soldiers, who dared not advance due to the killing intent, but did not say a single word.
After a long pause, His Highness Prince Zhao of Great Qi, Lu Lingcong, dismounted and, under the watchful eyes of three thousand elite Tiger Division and the few remaining enemy soldiers, sank to one knee. He lifted the jade disc from the mud with both hands, carefully wiping off the bloodstains bit by bit, then solemnly and carefully placed it into his bosom, close to his heart.
His silver armor gleamed like snow, and his red robe blazed brighter than fire. Once the wind and sand had settled, he stood and gazed toward the city before giving his command.
“Sound the gong!”
The Xiongnu tribes of Northern Desert had been harassing the Great Qi border for several years. Every year, after the grass withered in winter, they would inevitably move south to raid the lands, blocking the trade routes in Yongzhou City, disrupting the border markets, and leaving the common people with no peace.
This was the twentieth winter under He Gao, Prefect of Yongzhou. Every year at this season had been the hardest to endure. With war blocking the way, the people could not trade outside the city, leaving them short of food and clothing, starving and freezing. Life was truly harsh.
Fortunately, Lord He is skilled in training troops; Yongzhou City’s defense is as solid as a fortress, and the soldiers can always hold out until spring, when the pastures turn green, and the northern tribes retreat to graze. When hardship became unbearable, the official granaries would distribute grain and porridge, ensuring the city never descended into streets filled with cries of suffering.
Even so, casualties from fighting, hunger, and cold were inevitable, yet a local official like Lord He still found it unbearable.
However, the situation this year seems somewhat different.
Lord He recently recruited an advisor from the populace who frequently offered brilliant strategies. From the first battle of winter until now, they had lost hardly any defending soldiers and had instead captured and stored a considerable number of enemy troops, horses, grain, and fodder.
Furthermore, His Highness Prince Zhao, leading his renowned Tiger Division, has also swept away the bandits in Longxi, turned his horses north, and comes by imperial decree to relieve Yongzhou’s siege.
He Gao was actually quite apprehensive—he heard that this “imperial decree” was requested by His Highness Prince Zhao from the Emperor himself.
Yongzhou has always been a place contested by strategists, but because his governance record has always been good and the city has never suffered any devastating blows, although the court allocates a good sum of funds every year, it has never paid excessive attention to it.
Lord He did not know what virtue or ability he possessed to have attracted the presence of Prince Zhao this time.
The scout just sent back words that Prince Zhao, who was twenty li from the city in the Gobi Desert, effortlessly dealt with an enemy force attempting a surprise attack and is now marching his troops towards Yongzhou, expected to arrive within an hour.
He Gao hurriedly gave orders for people to prepare properly and set up a banquet at the Prefect’s Mansion to welcome him. His Highness’s generosity was extravagant; before his troops even arrived, he presented a great victory as a welcome gift, which truly humbled him.
“If things continue like this, the elders of Yongzhou will finally be able to live in peace and have a good new year.” He Gao remarked to his newly recruited advisor, who was standing on the city wall with his hands behind his back.
The young man named “Wu Zhi” replied with a faint smile, “With My Lord’s benevolence, the heavens will surely respond.”
“I truly cannot comprehend the reason why Prince Zhao must come,” He Gao pondered for a moment, then shook his head and self-mocked, “Enjoying the protection of the imperial family while still making wild guesses here is indeed this old man’s fault.”
“His Highness cares for the nation, which is naturally a blessing for the people of Yongzhou.” The young man concurred in an official tone.
He Gao nodded and sighed, “In just three years, he has forged the Tiger Division into a formidable, almost divine force—defeating Liaodong, striking Longxi, sweeping through Jingnan, and pacifying Huaibei. He truly lives up to being the late Emperor’s most treasured eldest son.”
The young man whispered, “My Lord, those words—”
He Gao waved his hand. “I know it’s inappropriate, but I just had to get it off my chest.”
He smiled wryly at Wu Zhi and said, “Having been away from the capital for so many years, who still cares what this old man says—you worry too much. When will you change this prematurely mature temper of yours?”
Wu Zhi also smiled. “Has My Lord not changed your habit of having to get things off your chest either?”
He Gao burst into laughter at that, then looked at the sky and said, “It’s getting late. We should also return to the mansion and prepare.”
Wu Zhi, however, bowed and paid his respect, saying, “My Lord, please allow this humble one to say that I fear I will be absent from today’s banquet.”
He Gao was confused. “Why? I intended to introduce you to His Highness Prince Zhao at the banquet. If he values you, when he returns to the court to report your achievements, you’ll be able to return to the capital as an official and won’t have to be stuck in this bitterly cold land any longer.”
Wu Zhi gently declined, saying, “My Lord’s immense kindness is something this humble one will never forget, but I have already promised my young daughter that I would take her for a walk in the streets tonight.”
He Gao knew this young man was talented, and he also knew he had a strange temperament—no matter how urgent the matter was, it paled in comparison to his daughter. He no longer insisted and allowed Wu Zhi to do as he pleased.
The reason He Gao hired this advisor appeared to be quite accidental.
The trivial matters within the Prefect’s Mansion were all overseen by Madam He, but a few months ago, when Madam He happened to be ill, the steward presented the account books to He Gao’s desk instead.
He was usually impatient with reading these things. Who would have thought that a casual flip-through would lead him to discover a treasure—the handwriting used for the account books was actually the “Quoxia style” created by Xie Jing, the foremost scholar of Jiangbiao, known as Xie Zhiwu.
That year, Xie Jing climbed the Jade Terrace alone, gazed upon the Yangtze River, and was inspired to compose [Ode to the West River], which he later transcribed in the Quoxia style. The brushwork that appeared soft yet was genuinely strong, showing no sharp edges or hidden depths at all. Resembling a flawless, uncut jade, it was then given such a name. At that time, everyone in the capital rushed to circulate and copy it, driving up the price of paper in Luoyang, and it became a widely circulated anecdote.
Although He Gao was stationed in the frontier, he had seen many copies sold by merchants traveling north and south. Upon seeing this, he was immediately astonished and hastily summoned the steward, only to learn it was from the Prefect’s Mansion’s own accountant.
That accountant was Wu Zhi. He claimed to be from Jiangbei. He had failed to achieve official recognition in the capital years ago, and with no relatives and only a young daughter, he originally intended to return home to be a teacher. However, he encountered the Huaisi Rebellion and was forced to flee all the way here.
Regarding the Quoxia style, he said he had practiced it to make copies for others to earn a living while in the capital.
He Gao looked at the almost genuine handwriting and sighed, “Ai, if it weren’t for the events of that year, why would that person have—”
The words ultimately died on his lips.
He Gao chatted with Wu Zhi for a few more moments and discovered that his conversation was exceptional, with sharp insight into current affairs—especially the Yongzhou conflict, so he began to feel the urge to recruit talent.
When asked, the young man agreed quite readily but refused to accept an official salary while continuing his work as an accountant. The only request he made was for He Gao to permit him free access to the Prefect’s Mansion’s library.
He Gao naturally agreed. The young man certainly did not disappoint, and adhering to the principle of trusting the person you use, He Gao did not question him further.
Dusk sank in, and as night descended, the cold grew steadily sharper.
When Xie Jing stepped into the side room of the Prefect’s Mansion’s back courtyard, a charcoal fire was already burning inside. Lu Shuning was sitting under the lamp, staring blankly at a leftover game board on the table. Hearing the movement, she looked up and smiled sweetly, clearly waiting for her mother’s praise.
“Your movements were quite swift today.” Xie Jing turned and closed the door.
It was the Winter Solstice, at the end of another year. His ten fingers, which had never previously touched harsh work, were now thinly callused, and Lu Shuning, who was a mere young girl back then, could now skillfully start a fire and add charcoal.
Three years in Yongzhou were truly a complete transformation.
Xie Jing himself was fine, but he always felt he had wronged Lu Shuning—at her age, she should have been pampered in Prince Zhao’s Mansion, dressed and fed with every need attended to. Now she was reduced to life on this northern frontier, all thanks to her mother’s so-called “blessing.”
However, Lu Shuning’s temperament was probably inherited from that person; very little ever weighed her mind. Seeing that she couldn’t figure out the leftover game, she wasn’t annoyed either. She simply calmly tucked her hands into her sleeves and lamented, “This game is so tricky. Which chess manual did Mother find it in?”
Xie Jing heated up the boiling tea and casually said, “I watched your father and elder brother play when I was standing beside them and note it out of sheer boredom.”
Lu Shuning paused upon hearing that, but her expression remained normal as she said, “Then judging by the positions of attack and defense, I guess Gege must be holding the white pieces.”
“Be more confident, there’s no need to guess. Have I ever told you that your father’s common nickname is ‘Lu Rangbai[mfn]Lu yields white.[/mfn]’?”
Lu Shuning laughed out loud, but the curve of her lips immediately faded a little. “I’ve never even played a game of chess with Father.”
She bent her head again to meticulously examine the black and white pieces spread across the board and murmured, “Gege can actually play chess against Father to this extent. I wonder how many moves I could win against him?”
Xie Jing also looked at the endgame, which he had analyzed a thousand times and knew by heart. “I’m afraid it won’t be easy.”
“Mother doesn’t believe in me either?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe in you. It’s just that you were taught by me,” Xie Jing handed her a heated hot-water bottle and said lightly, “and Qing’er was taught by your father.”
In the northern frontier city, there would be a night market on the Winter Solstice. Coincidentally, the harvest was good this year, and unlike previous years, there were no war disturbances, making the night market particularly lively. However, the weather was truly cold. The small coat Xie Jing made for Lu Shuning in early winter came in handy now, but he didn’t have the spare funds to make another for himself, so he had to continue wearing his faded, old robe.
Lu Shuning had grown up in Yongzhou since childhood, used to frontier sunsets, bows and sabers, and northern horses. Even the small, lively bustle of the night market was enough to catch her interest. As for Jiangnan—her hometown, which was written in books, told in stories, and described by Xie Jing, where orioles sang in the fields, and the spring breeze blew for ten miles—it was something she dared not even imagine.
She held a bowl of steaming mutton soup dumplings, her small face hidden behind the drifting steam.
“Does Jinling City have a night market?”
“Yes. On the first, third, and fifth days of the month, it lasts all night long.”
“Does Jinling City have lanterns and lights?”
“Yes. During the Lantern Festival every year, the market is as bright as day.”
“Does Jinling City have mutton soup dumplings?”
Seated across from her, Xie Jing snapped back to attention and frowned while looking at Lu Shuning. The little girl looked baffled, eating as she stared up at him with wide eyes, waiting for his answer.
“Yes… I suppose?”
He felt it was necessary to consider letting His Highness take Lu Shuning back to the capital to broaden her horizons along the way.
There was some movement by the window facing the street; the Tiger Division must have arrived. The main encampment should be outside the city, with only the personal guards following Prince Zhao into the city. Even so, the not-too-wide main street of Yongzhou City was still bustling and crowded. The commander’s banner flew high, and the more than a thousand light cavalry stood as silent as one; not a hint of stray noise rose or fell from their moving hooves.
Even the onlookers along the street fell silent, afraid to disturb this ceremonial-like march, sighing inwardly with admiration. They were indeed the personal guards of Prince Zhao, who had swept across the world; to have the opportunity to witness them was truly an eye-opener.
The girls were probably the most excited. Before his reputation as a great general spread far and wide, the news about Prince Zhao that reached their ears from the capital was his “romantic fame.” When the late emperor was alive, he had a high, ornate building built west of Jinling City called “Jade Terrace”. A group of royal descendants, nobles, and handsome youths in the capital often banqueted and socialized there. The two with the most illustrious status and most outstanding demeanor among them were collectively known as the “Twin Jades of Jade Terrace.”
The “Twin Jades of Jade Terrace” was one civilian and one military. The “military” one was His Highness Prince Zhao, who had swept through fourteen prefectures with his spear. He was once the man countless capital maidens dreamed of all struggling like troops crowding a single-plank bridge for the chance to become “Princess Consort Zhao”.
Who would have thought that later… well, let’s not mention what happened later.
Though only one of the “Twin Jades” was visible today, overall, it still somewhat fulfilled their wishes.
By the window facing the street on the second floor of the teahouse, Xie Jing rested his face on his hand and glanced outside in boredom.
There were some familiar faces among the personal guards. Three years of unseen had clearly weathered them down. Even Li Qi, the most unpromising among their gang of troublemakers back then, had now reached the rank of deputy general. Although his face still looked a bit boyish, his expression was solemn as he walked at the front. It was said that he played a crucial role in maintaining the strict discipline of the Tiger Division, who were well-armored and sharp-witted.
His Highness Prince Zhao, with his white horse and silver spear, walked unhurriedly at the very front of the light cavalry. Looking down from the second floor, that guy didn’t seem to be in a very good mood; one couldn’t tell at all that he had just won a great victory.
He’s much thinner. Xie Jing thought to himself.
His features were sharper, his posture straighter; he truly carried the aura of a “God of War.”
Xie Jing almost subconsciously looked for a hint of jade color between the silver armor and red robe. His gaze lingered for a moment before he suddenly came to his senses, telling himself there was nothing there to see.
But Prince Zhao, who had already walked dozens of steps, suddenly halted his horse.
The thousand-plus personal guards behind him stopped almost simultaneously, motionless as mountains, while silently awaiting their commander’s order.
Lu Lingcong merely pulled the reins, slightly turned his body on the horse, and looked back, his gaze lingering with a hint of confusion for a moment on the second floor of the staggered shops marked by wine flags he had just passed.
He stroked the spot where the jade disc was hidden inside his left lapel with his hand. Without any cause, he was suddenly struck by a moment of palpitatiogn.
T/N: No one asked, but I keep seeing people on social media assume that those em-dashes were from ChatGPT. Just want to clarify that no, every single em-dash here comes from the original text xD the author used a lot of em-dashes and I just keep them as they are.
