——“Who would forget me? Would you forget me?”
Li Fuxiang’s reaction was oddly perplexing. He had never considered this question before.
Gao Yuexing emphasized, “I mean, what if?”
He should feel afraid, Gao Yuexing thought, because she had already read something resembling fear in Li Fuxiang’s eyes, though it wasn’t entirely that.
A voice in Gao Yuexing’s heart calmly said: It’s not a “what if.”
It was something that had already happened.
There was no moment in Gao Yuexing’s life sadder than this one. It felt as though she had once again broken free from the constraints of time, standing high above and looking down upon the surging torrents spanning past and present.
She had once let everything go and moved forward.
But Li Fuxiang had clung to the memories of this single place, trapping himself there.
How could she not care?
He still kept that crabapple-patterned handkerchief from his childhood—how much unspoken bitterness and unwillingness had he buried in his heart?
Gao Yuexing finally voiced the question that had been buried in her heart for years: “Do you hate me?”
She was desperate and anxious to hear the answer.
Li Fuxiang pressed his lips tightly together. It was clearly a displeased expression, yet he gently stroked Gao Yuexing’s hair and said, “Don’t be afraid. It’s okay if you forget. I’ll take you home.”
He was still comforting her.
Thinking of their past life, he was the one abandoned first, and the one who took the initiative to seek her out again.
But he had always kept silent.
In that world, he had essentially already lost her.
Even so, he still told her not to be afraid.
Gao Yuexing touched his face and said to him, “You don’t need to be afraid either. In this life, I will only stay by your side. I won’t go anywhere else.”
They had been this close, countless times.
Gao Yuexing had felt the impulse, many times, to kiss him without hesitation.
But each time, she suppressed it. Once the chasm of desire was opened, it would become a bottomless pit that could never be filled. They were still far from that point.
Gao Yuexing searched for her reflection in Li Fuxiang’s eyes, only to find that his eyes held more than just her. Behind her were the boundless clear skies, the early autumn air, and the endlessly cloudless expanse above, high and far. There were also the maple leaves by the training grounds and the red clay underfoot that almost merged seamlessly with her presence. It was as if these were the last bursts of vivid color before winter’s arrival.
Gao Yuexing stared unblinkingly, then reluctantly let go of his hand.
The bow fell to the ground.
Li Fuxiang hurriedly looked away to pick it up. When he straightened again, he found that he could no longer hold Gao Yuexing in his arms.
Gao Yuexing had quietly withdrawn from his embrace.
The warmth in his palm dissipated, leaving his heart feeling hollow. He pursed his lips, and the waves of emotions surging within him gradually subsided.
Their original plan was to stay out until nightfall before returning.
But in the afternoon, just after having some refreshments at the training grounds, an imperial guard from the palace arrived in haste, delivering the emperor’s summons for Li Fuxiang to return to the palace.
Li Fuxiang asked in confusion, “Didn’t he throw me out just this morning? Why is he so eager to call me back now?”
The guard replied, “Your Highness, someone from the Medicine Valley has arrived.”
Before Li Fuxiang could react, Gao Yuexing jumped forward excitedly. “Medicine Valley! Is it Elder Sister Yaonu!?”
The guard smiled and answered, “Yes, it’s the head of Medicine Valley.”
Gao Yuexing grabbed Li Fuxiang’s arm. “Let’s go back quickly!”
Li Fuxiang let himself be slowly dragged along.
However, Gao Yuexing’s strength was no match for a man taller than her. Halfway through, she felt her arms go numb from the effort and turned around, panting, glaring at Li Fuxiang. Assuming he wasn’t done playing and didn’t want to return to the palace, she tried to coax him with patience, “Let’s go back for now. We can go out and have fun another day, okay?”
The two locked eyes, staring at each other for a while.
Gao Yuexing tried pulling him again, and this time, it wasn’t as difficult.
Li Fuxiang followed her easily.
On their way back to the palace, Gao Yuexing didn’t notice anything unusual about Li Fuxiang. Her heart was filled with joy at the thought of seeing someone from Medicine Valley again—so much so that she wished she could fly back immediately.
During the four years she stayed at Medicine Valley, far from her homeland and loved ones, it was thanks to Elder Sister Yaonu’s care that she got through it all.
Li Fuxiang followed behind her, staring at the blazing afternoon sun as they returned to the palace. Walking down Huayang Street, he glanced back at the nearly completed Prince Xiang’s Mansion.
A person might endure sadness and pretend to be calm, but happiness and joy are hard to conceal, often revealing themselves in subtle expressions. It’s something one might unintentionally give away.
No matter how much Gao Yuexing denied it with her words, the joy and comfort she experienced during those four years in Medicine Valley were treasures she held dearly in her heart.
When the two arrived at the palace, they learned that the visitor from Medicine Valley had already been welcomed into the emperor’s Qianqing Palace.
When Yaonu first accompanied her master to the palace, she had been around sixteen or seventeen years old. Now, about seven years had passed, and Gao Yuexing was surprised that Yaonu was still alone, without any romantic entanglements.
When they finally met, Yaonu was still dressed in the familiar and simple white hemp robes. She stood there gracefully, like a woman from a painting.
Gao Yuexing’s impulse to throw herself into Yaonu’s arms froze in place.
After a long separation, the first glance at someone you haven’t seen in years always carries a faint sense of unfamiliarity.
This was exactly how Gao Yuexing felt toward Yaonu.
As the head of Medicine Valley and its future leader, Yaonu exuded an even more commanding presence, one that carried authority without the need for anger.
Gao Yuexing stopped in front of her and had to lift her head slightly to meet her gaze.
Yaonu gently patted Gao Yuexing’s shoulder, her movements soft, and said, “You’ve grown… half an inch.”
Gao Yuexing froze for a moment.
Yaonu chuckled and said, “Why is it that with all the good food and drink you’re given every day, you still don’t seem to grow taller? Could it be that you’re weighed down by too many worries?”
It was meant as a playful remark, but Li Fuxiang, who had been silent all this time, took it seriously. He turned his head and gave Gao Yuexing a thoughtful glance.
Gao Yuexing knew perfectly well that Yaonu was just speaking nonsense.
What did being short have to do with having too many worries? In her previous life, she had grown up leisurely in a secluded boudoir and had been just as petite.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Gao Yuexing noticed a man standing quietly behind Yaonu.
She stared at him for a moment, then smiled and said, “Brother Langdu.”
It wasn’t her fault for not recognizing him at first glance—Langdu had changed a lot. The most noticeable difference was that he had gotten darker.
The once fair and delicate scholar-like appearance had suddenly become much rougher.
Langdu nodded and smiled back at her. “Junior Sister.”
Yaonu always came around this time of year to deliver medicine for Li Fuxiang.
The emperor wasn’t in the Qianqing Palace.
Perhaps he knew that young people had their own antics and didn’t want to restrict them with his presence, so he had long since retreated to the Mifei Palace.
After a simple welcoming exchange, Yaonu began taking Li Fuxiang’s pulse.
In front of her senior brothers and sisters from Medicine Valley, Gao Yuexing never dared boast about her medical skills.
The true divine doctors were all hidden away in the valley—she had only picked up some superficial knowledge through osmosis.
The palace maids let down the bed curtains.
Yaonu sat on a small embroidered stool, Li Fuxiang reclined against a pillow, and Gao Yuexing quietly stood to the side, waiting.
Gao Yuexing had a general understanding of the chronic ailments that had built up in Li Fuxiang’s body over the years.
Yaonu lowered her gaze, her face expressionless and silent.
After what felt like the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Yaonu finally released his wrist.
Gao Yuexing crouched down, her hands resting on Yaonu’s knees as she looked up at her eagerly. “Elder Sister Yaonu, how is he?”
Usually, when Gao Yuexing acted soft and sweet like this, Yaonu couldn’t bear to respond with a stern face. But this time was an exception. Yaonu didn’t poke her nose or pat her head as she used to. Instead, she glanced at her briefly, then turned to look at Li Fuxiang and said, “This spring, I received a letter from Ah Xing, saying that you took some highly harmful forbidden medicines. Do you even know what you were doing?”
It seemed that all doctors had a natural authority when they put on a serious face.
Li Fuxiang, under this reprimand, didn’t even dare let his eyes wander.
Feeling a bit disheartened, Gao Yuexing tugged at Yaonu’s sleeve.
Yaonu turned to her and said, “You know that his heart and lungs are already weaker than most people’s.”
Gao Yuexing replied softly, “I know.”
It was precisely because she knew that she had held onto a sliver of hope.
The medicine he had taken in the Western Territory had long since begun to eat away at his body, inch by inch.
Gao Yuexing frowned, murmuring, “But what should I do?”
Yaonu didn’t respond.
Gao Yuexing understood Yaonu; she always spoke the truth.
Yaonu took out a pack of silver needles from her medicine box and said, “I can’t make any guarantees about the future. For now, let’s focus on proper care.”
Judging by the setup, Yaonu was preparing to perform acupuncture on Li Fuxiang. She instructed him to lie face-down on the pillow, exposing his back.
Gao Yuexing helped him remove his robes layer by layer.
When Yaonu saw his back, although it was thin, it didn’t look sickly, which seemed to ease her expression slightly.
Gao Yuexing held a flame.
Yaonu gently warmed the needle tips over the fire and said to Gao Yuexing, “Winter is approaching. With his constitution, it’s likely he’ll fall ill again. This season is just about the right time to begin conditioning.”
Gao Yuexing nodded quickly in agreement.
At this moment, Yaonu’s words were as weighty as the heavens; whatever she said was absolute.
Once the needles were warmed, Yaonu began inserting them deftly, starting from the Mingmen points on either side of his lower back and moving upwards. Her movements were precise and swift, without hesitation.
Li Fuxiang’s face rested against the pillow.
The moment the needle pierced his skin, it didn’t hurt, but a peculiar sensation—an aching numbness—crawled up his spine. The discomfort was hard to ignore.
While inserting the needles, Yaonu maintained a steady tone and said, “I brought the usual medicine for his asthma, but considering his current condition, I’ll need to adjust the formula and make new preparations.”
Gao Yuexing’s brow remained furrowed. She asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”
Yaonu looked at her and replied, “Traveling to and from Medicine Valley takes too much time. I’ll need to stay in the capital for a while.”
Gao Yuexing understood what she meant and asked, “Would it be more convenient to stay inside or outside the palace?”
Yaonu replied, “I just need a temporary place to stay. I’ll also need to source some high-quality medicinal herbs.”
This wasn’t difficult and didn’t require Gao Yuexing’s involvement; the emperor could easily handle it with a word.
That evening, Yaonu had an audience with the emperor and carefully relayed the details of Li Fuxiang’s condition.
Meanwhile, Gao Yuexing pushed open the window and leaned against the frame.
From the warm pavilion, a hand emerged from behind the curtains, parting the layers of gauze to reveal a face.
Li Fuxiang said, “What are you doing standing there in the wind?”
Gao Yuexing refused to look back at him. After a long while, she suddenly replied, “What business is it of yours?”
Li Fuxiang paused, then said, “But I’m cold.”
Gao Yuexing turned her face slightly to glance at him and replied coolly, “The wind is hitting my face; it’s not reaching you. If you’re cold, drop the curtains and wrap yourself in the quilt.”
Li Fuxiang fell silent.
But he didn’t lower the curtains. Instead, he quietly continued to watch her.
Gao Yuexing could feel his gaze. She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to turn around to look at him. After a moment, she slowly said, “Your Highness, in your life until now, have you ever regretted something so deeply that you couldn’t bear it?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Gao Yuexing felt she might have said the wrong thing.
How long could Li Fuxiang’s life have been? He was only seventeen. No matter how far he reflected back, his life was so short that it could be seen in its entirety at a glance.
He wasn’t like Gao Yuexing, who had lived through two lifetimes, traversed the gates of life and death, and lost far more than she had gained. That was why, now, she clung tightly to the small warmth she held, refusing to let it slip away.
She asked Li Fuxiang if he had anything he deeply regretted.
After some thought, Li Fuxiang replied, “I know what you mean. From the time I can remember, I’ve lived cautiously until now. Looking back, every step I took may not have achieved the best results, but there’s nothing I can truly regret—I’ve already done my best.”
Gao Yuexing felt an ache in her heart, though she remained quiet. She leaned her head against the window and let the cold wind blow against her face as she said, “Just now, I suddenly had a thought. Tell me, that spring hunt—if your plan to escape on the way to the Xiaoshan hunting grounds had succeeded, everything would’ve turned out differently, wouldn’t it?”
Perhaps, she could even be more certain.
It definitely would’ve turned out differently.
If Li Fuxiang no longer bore the identity of a prince, he wouldn’t have to be swept helplessly forward by the undercurrents he couldn’t escape.
He would have had many retreats and countless choices.
He could even have chosen a life that he loved most.
Gao Yuexing’s thoughts drifted further and further.
Suddenly, Li Fuxiang’s gentle words, “Let’s not talk about ‘what ifs,’ alright?” pulled her back to the present.
Gao Yuexing closed her eyes and replied, “Alright.”
She looked out the window and suddenly saw Ding Wenfu’s figure appear. Before she could process it, she saw him gesture toward the south.
The emperor was here.
Gao Yuexing quickly closed the window and turned around, just as the emperor stepped out from behind a folding screen, his gaze calm and unreadable as he glanced over at her.
No one knew how long he had been standing there or how much he had overheard.
Gao Yuexing lowered her gaze and bowed in greeting.
The emperor emerged from behind the screen. He didn’t pay much attention to her but instead walked over to Li Fuxiang’s bedside, letting out a sigh. He said, “I vaguely remember, back at the Xiaoshan hunting grounds, someone once advised me, saying your identity was awkward. Rather than keeping you in the palace and risking further complications, it would’ve been better to let you live freely in the world outside. Perhaps you could’ve been happier.”
Gao Yuexing was stunned.
So there had been such a thing? Back then, the emperor had been furious when he heard Li Fuxiang had run away. Who had dared to go against the emperor’s will and make such a suggestion? Gao Yuexing was both curious and impressed.
She kept these thoughts to herself, neither speaking nor letting them show on her face.
But at that moment, the emperor seemed to remember her presence. He glanced at her, raised a finger, and pointed. “That person was your father, Gao Jing.”
Gao Yuexing was instantly dumbfounded. Upon reflection, however, something didn’t feel right.
“Your Majesty, but my father didn’t know about His Highness’s disappearance at the time.”
The emperor replied, “Of course. That was afterward.”
Gao Yuexing nodded in realization. She instinctively felt that her father wasn’t the kind of person to act recklessly. With the responsibility of a family on his shoulders, how could he not conduct himself with care and caution?
The emperor, reminiscing about the past, said, “Minister Gao… he had a pair of eyes that could see through the ages. At that time, he even dared to promise me that if Fuxiang left the palace and truly became an ordinary commoner, and if you were still willing, he would agree to betroth you to him.”
Gao Yuexing’s heart filled with regret. She had never known about this.
Gao Jing had never mentioned it to her either.