At that moment, Gao Yuexing’s mind went blank and sluggish. She was acutely aware of where she was and what she was about to face. In the limited time she had, she did something even she found incredible—she reached out and gently returned the stranded fish to the water.
The koi fish, with golden-red scales and a white belly, swam back into the depths. In the blur, it seemed to glance back at her.
The next moment, Gao Yuexing’s feet left the ground as someone grabbed her by the collar, hoisted her up, and shoved her head into the water.
Amid her struggles, Gao Yuexing turned her head to look at the two individuals.
Disappointingly, their attire—palace uniforms for rough labor—made it clear they were not dignified palace maids or attendants serving someone of importance.
“We can’t let her die! She’s the daughter of Gao Jing, the Minister of Justice!”
“We can’t let her live! She’s already overheard our conversation!”
Water poured in relentlessly through her nose, ears, and mouth. Gao Yuexing exhaled a string of bubbles, held her breath, and gradually overcame her instincts, ceasing her struggles as her limbs grew limp and she floated on the water’s surface.
“Dead?”
“That fast?”
“What do we do now?”
The hand gripping the back of her neck loosened tentatively.
Gao Yuexing silently counted the seconds. When they relaxed their vigilance and fell into panicked confusion, she suddenly flipped over, took a deep breath, and dove back into the water.
In the chaos, she seemed to catch a glimpse of the two servants’ panicked and terrified expressions.
Knowing how to swim indeed could save a life at critical moments.
Although Gao Yuexing wasn’t yet at ease in the water, it was enough to escape danger. She distanced herself from the reeds, floated on her back, and let herself drift. Before long, patrolling guards on the riverbank spotted her drifting figure—just a child—and immediately pulled her ashore without delay.
Gao Yuexing had swallowed a lot of water. Her head felt as if it were wrapped in paste, heavy and muddled. She could hear someone calling her name but couldn’t open her eyes. After an indeterminate amount of time, someone came to hold her hand and touch her face.
This time, Gao Yuexing responded. She moved her fingers, feeling around until she found a small hand, similar in size to hers. Summoning her strength, she opened her eyes.
At night, the Qianqing Palace was brightly lit. In her daze, she felt as if she had returned to the administrative palace ten years later, the same physical and emotional torment lingering over her.
The difference was that this time, Li Fuxiang was by her side.
Her state of mind had also broadened significantly.
Li Fuxiang wrapped both arms around her neck, curling up entirely and clinging to her.
Yaonu stationed by the bedside noticed she had woken up and immediately brought over the warm medicinal soup.
Gao Yuexing shook her head, refusing the medicine.
Yaonu, thinking she feared the bitterness, coaxed her, “You have to take the medicine to get better.”
Li Fuxiang, distressed, hugged her tightly. “Take the medicine.”
Gao Yuexing opened her mouth and rasped, “Someone in the palace wants to kill me.”
She refused to touch anything that could be consumed.
Yaonu was shocked.
Gao Yuexing’s brief moment of consciousness quickly faded, and she closed her eyes again. The medicine couldn’t be fed to her—her jaw was clenched tight, impossible to pry open. Her body temperature remained feverishly high.
Gao Yuexing had a premonition deep within her soul. As expected, she dreamt of the Prince Xiang’s palace over ten years later.
At the moment of her death, her soul separated from her body. Gao Yuexing looked down at her own hands and realized she had returned to her adult form.
Mountain-blowing crabapples, like flames, blazed across the mountains and fields, even more stunning than she remembered.
She slowly walked beneath the trees, raising her hand to catch a gently spinning petal descending through the air. Yet, the delicate petal passed through her palm without stopping for even a moment.
Oh.
It was still a dream.
The crabapple blossoms were breathtaking. Gao Yuexing wandered among them for a long time, feeling as though she would never reach the end. Finally, she saw a figure.
Small, clad in a magenta skirt embroidered with gold and draped in a fluffy fur cape.
Gao Yuexing gazed at the familiar face—it was her childhood self.
Her younger self stopped in her tracks at that moment, her gaze seemingly tangible as it locked onto her.
Meeting her own eyes, Gao Yuexing felt an inexplicable sense of guilt rising within her.
Why should I feel guilty?
She immediately realized something was wrong.
Before she could think further, the young Gao Yuexing spoke: “Have you seen the final outcome for yourself?”
Gao Yuexing felt a chill run down her spine.
Was she conversing with herself across time?
The young Gao Yuexing’s gaze was filled with a gloomy aura—hollow and cold—yet shrouded in a child’s innocent façade. Staring at her for too long sent a shiver through her.
Gao Yuexing asked a laughable question: “Who are you?”
The young Gao Yuexing sneered as expected. “You buried your head, shrank your neck, and returned to the shelter of your family’s wings. Did you think that would keep you from dying? Did you believe your family and husband could protect you for a lifetime? You woke up too early. Let me show you the ending of the dream you left unfinished.”
As soon as she finished speaking, all the fallen petals on the ground swirled into the air.
Through the chaotic flurry of crimson blossoms, Gao Yuexing’s aching eyes caught sight of a blood-soaked scene.
Xiang City.
A place she had never visited in her life, yet one deeply tied to Li Fuxiang in countless ways.
Blood was everywhere. Corpses.
Mountains of corpses. Seas of blood.
The somber and murderous aura of the battlefield was all-encompassing.
Gao Yuexing saw her own corpse hanging from the city wall.
Below the wall, the young general Li Fuxiang stood there alone, pierced by countless arrows, his dying gaze fixed on the towering wall above.
The massacre at the Prince Xiang’s palace was indeed not a simple assassination attempt.
At the moment Gao Yuexing was stabbed, a coup broke out in the imperial city.
Two days and two nights of bloodshed.
Outside the palace gates, rivers of blood flowed.
Fortunately, the rebellion instigated by the traitors ultimately failed.
Unfortunately, the devastating news of Li Fuxiang’s death reached the palace, and the emperor lost the son he had always cherished and protected like a treasure.
The Great Xu dynasty lost a city.
Not to foreign invaders, but to internal traitors.
The emperor finally became belligerent.
Within a mere three to five years, he reclaimed the lost territory and executed the rebels. However, the people suffered terribly, left destitute and struggling for survival.
He truly became a solemn and ruthless monarch, his reverse scale untouchable by anyone. The benevolence of a kind ruler was no longer to be found.
How did it come to this?
Gao Yuexing watched as the petals scattered once more, sinking into the muddy earth.
The young Gao Yuexing said, “I was once so very close to the truth, so close. I clearly had the chance to warn them, yet I chose to close my eyes and my mouth.”
Gao Yuexing noticed that her younger self had changed her mode of address from “you” to “I.”
In her gaze was boundless sorrow.
Gao Yuexing finally understood: “You are me from that year. I chose to forget all those terrifying events, while you were trapped here for eternity, unable to find release.”
At last, she understood…
Gao Yuexing smiled bitterly. “So—what right do I, who chose to run away, have to seek happiness?”
The young Gao Yuexing replied, “In a chaotic world where wolves reign supreme, even for self-preservation, you should not have chosen to be a lamb awaiting slaughter.”
Gao Yuexing clutched her chest.
In the end, Li Fuxiang also died.
If the version of her in that dream had been braver, perhaps the outcome wouldn’t have been so tragic.
Lost in her turbulent emotions, Gao Yuexing failed to notice that the younger version of herself was gradually becoming transparent, fading into an ephemeral shadow on the verge of disappearing.
The younger Gao Yuexing said to her, “I’m leaving now.”
Gao Yuexing rushed forward to grab her. “Where are you going?”
That figure dissolved into the mountain breeze, leaving behind only the sound of the wind’s howling. No one answered her.
Gao Yuexing felt an unstoppable, immense force pulling her out of the illusory realm.
Someone called out, “Ah Xing!”
Gao Yuexing abruptly opened her eyes and saw her father.
She had returned home.
Gao Yuexing stared blankly at her father. He seemed even more haggard than before.
Gao Jing hurriedly called out toward the door, “Quickly, quickly call for Yaonu!”
Was Yaonu now at the Gao residence?
When Yaonu arrived, Gao Jing anxiously said, “After Ah Xing woke up, she looked at me but didn’t speak, as if she didn’t recognize me… Earlier, you mentioned that her persistent high fever might cause some memory confusion?”
Yaonu approached the bedside without saying a word, took Gao Yuexing’s pulse, and then pulled out silver needles, inserting them into acupuncture points such as her Yintang, Baihui, and Sishencong.
Gao Yuexing indeed felt her mind clearing somewhat; at the very least, she could move her eyes.
Gao Jing gently touched her shoulder, his heart aching. “Ah Xing, how do you feel? Do you still recognize your father?”
An indescribable mix of emotions surged in her heart. Gao Yuexing moved her lips but shook her head.
She saw Gao Jing’s devastated expression and felt a pang of pain in her chest.
But her resolve had already been made—she could no longer be the pampered flower of the inner chambers in this life.
Praying to Buddha was futile; relying on oneself was the only way forward.
A quarter of an hour later.
Gao Jing stepped out, leaving only Yaonu in the inner room to remove the needles.
Gao Yuexing listened as the door opened and closed, and the sound of Gao Jing’s footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.
Staring at the silk-embroidered depiction of blooming crabapples on the bed curtain, she softly said, “Yaonu, please take me away.”
Yaonu frowned. “You remember everything?”
Gao Yuexing’s eyes were hollow and empty, as if she wanted to cry but had no tears, leaving only a bitter ache. She replied, “Yes, I remember everything.”
Yaonu truly granted her request. She went to discuss with Gao Jing, expressing her wish to take Gao Yuexing to the Medicine Valley for recuperation.
Gao Jing didn’t immediately agree but didn’t outright refuse either.
He needed time to consider.
Gao Yuexing’s distant and unfamiliar attitude toward him broke his heart, leaving him deeply hesitant.
In the midst of this hesitation, Gao Yuexing’s health gradually improved.
Madam Gao gave birth to a young son. Having just completed her postpartum recovery, her health remained frail, so Gao Jing kept Gao Yuexing’s illness a tightly guarded secret.
Ah, such was the sorrow of life within deep inner courtyards.
Women could only live their lives dependent on men, like parasitic dodder vines—draped in wealth, yet devoid of autonomy, vision, and thought.
What they could know, what they couldn’t.
What they could do, what they couldn’t.
All of it was out of their hands.
During her convalescence, Gao Yuexing finally saw Xi Heng, who had been missing for a long time.
When she opened her eyes from a midday nap, she was almost scared out of her wits by the sudden sight of a figure standing at her bedside.
The hilt of a Xiuchun Dao parted the gauze curtain, and Gao Yuexing saw a face that had weathered the trials of time. The once-fair and youthful features now bore traces of green stubble.
He looked like someone who had traveled a long way. Gao Yuexing surmised he had just returned to the capital.
Xi Heng lowered his gaze to look at her. “Do you still remember the promise between us?”
Gao Yuexing blinked.
Xi Heng sighed. “Your father said you’ve lost your memory… Forget it, it seems fate is not on our side…”
Suddenly, Gao Yuexing lifted a hand and grasped the sleeve of his robe.
Xi Heng, to his very last breath, was loyal to the emperor.
Gao Yuexing knew he was trustworthy.
Startled by her sudden action, Xi Heng froze, not daring to move. “What are you doing? Don’t do anything rash. I’m not a bad person. We knew each other before. I really just came to see you.”
Gao Yuexing said, “Commander—hear me out. There are people in the palace plotting treason, intending to install a puppet to take control of the court!”
Xi Heng was visibly shocked. “What did you say?!”
Gao Yuexing calmly replied, “The trouble comes from within. The Li Clan’s rebellion may be imminent.”
Xi Heng clenched his hands, and the Xiuchun Dao in its scabbard emitted a faint hum. Slowly, he turned to look behind him.
The view that had been blocked from Gao Yuexing’s sight suddenly cleared.
Her gaze passed Xi Heng and landed on her father, Gao Jing, standing behind him.
“Ah Xing…”
Gao Jing leaned forward, looking at her in disbelief.
Gao Yuexing avoided his gaze, refusing to look at her father.
Xi Heng spoke slowly, “By imperial decree, I have been secretly investigating in Xu Prefecture for over a year. I finally uncovered traces of evidence and successfully eradicated a private militia raised under the guise of a heir by Prince Wen. Prince Wen is far away in Xu Prefecture; his reach shouldn’t extend this far. If he harbors rebellious intentions, there must be collaborators within the palace… Miss Gao, who harmed you?”
Gao Yuexing shook her head. “Just some rough laborers from one of the palace departments. They had no clear master.”
Without another word, Xi Heng turned and left. As he passed by Gao Jing, he said curtly, “Lord Gao, excuse me.”
Gao Jing responded perfunctorily with a cupped fist. “Take care.”
Gao Yuexing propped herself up and saw her father walking toward her. He sat down beside her.
“Ah Xing, is it your own decision to leave the Gao residence?”
Her father’s voice was still gentle.
Gao Yuexing answered honestly, “Yes.”
Gao Jing asked, “Did Tutor Liu ever teach you that, while your parents are alive, you must not travel far?”
Gao Yuexing shifted her gaze to the window. It was late spring, and the ground was covered in fallen petals, their once-brilliant beauty now withered and decadent. She said softly, “The shelter of noble families and the wealth and glory they bring are not owed to anyone by default. Born in a prosperous era, fortunate to witness the grace of the vast mountains and rivers, I don’t wish to waste this lifetime.”
Gao Jing stomped his foot and let out a long sigh. “Ah Xing, you were born into the wrong body, in the wrong life. You shouldn’t have been born a daughter.”
That very evening, Gao Yuexing learned that her father had agreed to let Yaonu take her to the Medicine Valley for recuperation.
As for her mother, this decision was still being kept a secret for now.
Yaonu began packing up for the journey. Coincidentally, Li Fuxiang’s asthma had stabilized, and it was time for him to return to the valley as well.
Li Fuxiang was brought by Zheng Qianye.
The emperor, knowing he had wronged Gao Jing, avoided coming to the Gao residence to cause more displeasure.
Had he shown a bit more care for Gao Yuexing and secretly assigned someone to protect her, such a tragedy would not have occurred.
It was worth noting that Li Fuxiang was guarded by eight highly skilled warriors at all times.
Yaonu stopped Li Fuxiang at the door, saying, “The second Miss Gao doesn’t remember you.”
Before seeing Gao Yuexing, Li Fuxiang didn’t believe what “doesn’t remember” truly meant.
As usual, he unhesitatingly approached her, finding her still lying in bed, her complexion pale and unwell. Gently, he reached out to hold her hand.
But Gao Yuexing withdrew her hand.
Her movement was light, and her expression was indifferent.
She exerted no force, nor did she show any sign of disdain.
Li Fuxiang looked down at his now-empty hand, suddenly bewildered and at a loss.
Gao Yuexing focused on the book in her hand, though not a single word on the page entered her mind.
Li Fuxiang tried once more to touch her hand.
This time, Gao Yuexing flicked her sleeve, hiding her hand away, refusing to let him touch her.
Li Fuxiang’s tentative hand froze mid-air before he stiffly withdrew it.
With just that small action, Gao Yuexing had already shattered all the defenses in his heart.
Li Fuxiang stepped back a few paces and sat in the shadow of the flowers by the window, quietly watching her.
The room was silent.
For over an hour, Li Fuxiang made no further movements, and Gao Yuexing didn’t turn a single page of her book.
Time seemed frozen.
It wasn’t until Zheng Qianye arrived to take him away that the stillness broke.
Gao Yuexing didn’t dare lift her head to look at him. She knew her heart was soft.
But she couldn’t stay by his side any longer. She had to harden her resolve.
Li Fuxiang’s silent figure stretched infinitely on the ground. The moment he stepped over the threshold, his gait faltered slightly, then he disappeared out the door.
He was gone, leaving no trace behind, only the evening glow casting a soft, golden light in his wake.
Gao Yuexing let go of the book.
The edges of the scroll bore deep indentations from her grip, now dampened by sweat, smudging into unsightly ink stains.
She finally mustered the courage to look at the place where he had sat.
On the desk, he had left something behind.
It was a white jade bracelet, adorned with a phoenix holding a ruyi scepter, clearly sized for a young girl.
In her previous life, she had owned an identical bracelet, worn close to her skin and nurtured by her warmth for many years.
Even after she grew older and it became too small, she still refused to take it off.
Dragging her numb legs, Gao Yuexing walked to the window, slipped the white jade bracelet onto her wrist, closed her eyes, and let the tears fall in heavy drops.
Two days later.
Yaonu received a reply from her master in the valley and prepared to depart with Gao Yuexing at dawn.
The sky was just beginning to brighten, still far from the bustling hour. The streets were sparsely populated. Near the city gates, Gao Yuexing’s sharp ears caught the sound of hoofbeats.
After inspecting their travel documents, the soldiers at the gate opened the checkpoint.
The cart hadn’t yet passed through when the soldiers murmured among themselves.
“Hey, isn’t that one of the Zheng family brothers?”
“One of them, yes, I recognize Zheng family’s young master… but who’s the other? Never seen him before.”
“Do we let them through?”
“Are you out of your mind? Letting someone you don’t recognize pass?”
Zheng Yan rode up and angrily reprimanded them, “Do you have a death wish? How dare you stop the Fifth Highness’s horse!”
Yaonu remarked, “He came to see you off.”
Gao Yuexing lowered her head and lightly touched the bracelet on her wrist.
Yaonu said, “You should say goodbye, at least.”
Gao Yuexing replied, “Forget it. Let it remain unresolved. With regret in my heart, there will always be another chance to meet.”
Yaonu said, “Our Medicine Valley may have a good reputation, but it’s nothing compared to the wealth and prestige of your noble family. Are you sure you can adapt?”
Gao Yuexing said firmly, “I am willing to follow Medicine Sister to practice medicine and save lives, unafraid of hardship.”
Yaonu gave a faint smile and said, “Good.”
Gao Yuexing closed her eyes to rest in the carriage.
The sound of hoofbeats outside followed for a full eighteen miles before gradually fading.
Seeing Li Fuxiang rein in his horse and gaze into the distance, Zheng Yan couldn’t help but exclaim, “How could the Second Miss Gao… How could she… At least childhood sweethearts should see each other one last time!”
Li Fuxiang’s hair was disheveled from the ride. He dismounted, led his horse to a patch of grass nearby, and let it rest and graze.
The carriage carrying Gao Yuexing gradually disappeared into the distance, becoming a tiny black dot before vanishing entirely from sight.
Inside the carriage, Gao Yuexing lifted the curtain and looked at the verdant grassland. Suddenly, she began humming an opera tune:
“Green lotus leaves by a clear water pond,
Mandarin ducks pair up, side by side…”
Li Fuxiang stroked his horse’s mane and turned to head back to the city. He said softly, “…Don’t blame her. It’s I who am unworthy of her trust.”