Are you still here at fifty-three?

The Canglan Illusion possesses its own consciousness, yet, being born from the storyteller’s will, it is inevitably influenced by the shifts in the storyteller’s mood. This is why, though the content was the same in both instances, Mingyue’s perception differed each time.

The first time, what she felt was Chuxue’s delight and admiration for the Emperor Que; the second, she sensed Chuxue’s pure and innocent beauty, and the calm within the Emperor Que’s heart.

Mingyue heard Emperor Que say, “I hear you have been looking for me.”

The same scene, the same conversation—Mingyue found herself much more composed upon experiencing it again. When Emperor Que destroyed Chuxue’s painting, Mingyue also felt a faint pang of pain. So it was true—Emperor Que did not lack compassion for Chuxue.

When Emperor Que returned to his temporary dwelling, the secret agent who had been out gathering information had already come back. The black-clad, cold-faced spy knelt before Emperor Que and reported, “This young woman is the most beloved princess of King Qi—Qi Chuxue.”

Emperor Que dismissed the agent with a wave, making no comment on the matter. Yet the one who had followed him all along spoke up, “Since this girl has grown fond of you, perhaps you might…”

Before he could finish, Emperor Que shook his head ever so slightly. That night, Chuxue’s presence was like a stone cast upon the water for Emperor Que and his companions—stirring ripples, but soon the surface returned to calm, leaving not a trace behind.

As the days passed and new reports arrived, the urgency for Emperor Que to return to his own kingdom only grew. Matters of the court required his approval to proceed, and in Shu, the situation neared a critical turning point that demanded his personal oversight.

Yet, Mingyue perceived his hesitation.

Emperor Que must have had plans for his stay in Qi, but clearly, now was not the time. Was it because of Chuxue? Mingyue shook her head; as things stood, Emperor Que felt nothing for her beyond a fleeting acquaintance. From what she sensed that night, he regarded her more as a pure-hearted younger sister. If so, what could make this ambitious sovereign so hesitant?

Mingyue tilted her head out of habit and said, “Qinshi, what do you think?”

Only silence answered her, long and deep, and Mingyue lowered her head. She was still unaccustomed to walking through the Canglan Illusion alone. The first time she entered the illusion, it was because of him. The first danger she faced had been warded off by him before she was even aware of it. When she first struggled to adapt to the ever-shifting climate within the illusion, it was his embrace that offered her warmth. Every experience within the Canglan Illusion, every moment tied to the Thread of Longing, was marked by traces of Qinshi—how could she ever get used to his absence?

Mingyue sighed deeply, and when she lifted her head, the scene had already shifted.

Night had fallen. The loyal secret agent who always shadowed Emperor Que reported once more that Chuxue had fallen asleep at the very spot where she had met him before.

Emperor Que went to see and, indeed, found her there. He shook his head in helpless resignation, then stepped forward, picked her up, and carried her slowly back to his quarters.

“Master, this is improper!” predictably drew protests from his attendants.

But Emperor Que was resolute, settling Chuxue in his own room and giving orders: “At first light, send someone to inform King Qi to come retrieve her. Tighten our communications with Shu—Gu Yanyong likely has his own plans by now, so be sure to cooperate fully. I know what concerns you, but right now the last person King Qi wishes to see is me, and the last person he wants Chuxue to see is also me, so there’s little need to worry for the time being. Before she manages to escape the palace again in search of me, I should have already returned to oversee our preparations.”

The man bowed in resignation and withdrew. After settling Chuxue for the night, Emperor Que stood before the bed for a long while, gazing at her.

In the past, Mingyue would not have thought much of it, but now she suddenly understood.

His feelings for her were those of compassion—a desire to protect that lone glimmer of light in the darkness. For someone like Emperor Que, steeped in power from an early age, Chuxue’s innocence was something he had never possessed and never could. Moreover, none of those who had entered his life before had been anything like her. Ministers and subordinates were used to his scheming; concubines and children accustomed to his lofty status, so he truly became an isolated sovereign…

Mingyue shook her head. She ought to dislike Emperor Que, not empathize with his inner world.

Emperor Que did not linger long; he soon left the room. The next morning unfolded just as Mingyue had previously witnessed in Chuxue’s illusion. After Chuxue was taken away, Emperor Que hastened his preparations to return home.

As the hour drew nearer, Mingyue grew anxious. If, when the moment arrived, she could not find Qinshi, where should she search for him?

Emperor Que had packed for the return journey. Both Que and Shu had all arrangements in place, awaiting only his command.

At last, that day arrived.

In the courtyard, Emperor Que and a few attendants finalized their baggage. One of them quietly reported, “Master, Princess Chuxue has come again.”

Emperor Que frowned, and Mingyue followed his gaze.

In the next instant, tears streamed down her face.

Chuxue ran toward Emperor Que. Mingyue, too, rushed toward Qinshi, who stood quietly nearby, crying out, “Thank goodness, you’re still here… you really are still here…”

A flash of astonishment crossed Qinshi’s eyes but was quickly replaced by a broad smile. He drew Mingyue fully into his embrace, the oppression of countless days and nights finally eased. In the end, his gamble had paid off; she had not truly abandoned him. Since she had come to find him, even if she still lacked that one feeling as before, he would not leave.

Yet in the next moment, Qinshi felt a coldness at his heart. Unconsciously, his smile grew deeper. Since she would shed tears for him, did it not mean that his wait over the past two years had yielded some reward?

“Who told you to make your own decisions and push me away? Did I ever authorize you to do that? You certainly have some nerve, acting without my instructions…” Mingyue sobbed.

Qinshi replied with a gentle smile, “Yes, it was my fault. But if we don’t hurry now, Emperor Que will soon be far ahead of us.”

“It’s all right. We’ll catch up with him sooner or later.” Mingyue nestled her head against Qinshi’s chest, only releasing him when she confirmed the warmth that calmed her heart. Raising her eyes, she met his smiling gaze and, flushing, pinched his arm. “We’ll settle this when we get back. Come on.”

Glancing around and finding no trace of Chuxue, Mingyue sent Qinshi to buy two horses. They rode fast to catch up with Emperor Que’s party. By the time they returned to Que, it was night, but even so, Mingyue could sense Emperor Que’s authority among his ministers. He quickly changed in his bedchamber before hurrying to the Deyang Hall, where he normally conducted state affairs.

Mingyue was stunned by the sight she encountered.

The hall was packed—nearly a hundred officials knelt as one, offering their greetings: “Long live the Emperor! Long live! May you live ten thousand years!”

Emperor Que raised his hand for them to rise, then tersely issued his orders. That very night, two generals rode out to the borderlands of Que and Shu to prepare for the coming campaign. When affairs at Deyang Hall were settled, Emperor Que retreated to his study, dealing with the backlog of memorials accumulated during his absence.

Mingyue had to admit, as an emperor, Que far exceeded the standard of competence.

In a sudden shift, Mingyue and Qinshi found themselves standing in a military tent, outside which the drills roared like thunder. Judging by what she had previously learned in Jun Xiao’s illusion, the war between Que and Shu had already been raging for some time. Emperor Que was soon to set out in secret for the Shu royal palace to retrieve the Imperial Seal.

They had not stood long before Emperor Que entered, lifting the tent flap, followed by a general Mingyue recalled seeing in Deyang Hall. The general asked, “Your Majesty, since Gu Yanyong has already agreed to surrender the Imperial Seal, why must you go in person?”

This was exactly Mingyue’s question.

“A mere seal is hardly my true aim. What I covet are the tens of thousands of secret treasures hidden by the King of Shu. Though our wars have greatly expanded Que’s territory, they have also depleted our resources. The administration of new lands must keep pace, or unrest will fester. You know well how little Zhao and Chu yielded after their conquest. Though Shu is smaller, its king is greedy by nature. I must see the situation for myself.”

The general’s face showed regret. “It was my failure to discipline the troops that led those fools to destroy the treasures of the Zhao and Chu palaces.”

“General Zhao, speak no more of it. The soldiers have risked their lives to win new lands for Que—how could I blame them further? Keep this matter quiet and proceed as planned: break camp and lay siege. Once I have resolved things, the men will not go unrewarded.”

“As you command. Will Your Majesty be taking an escort this time?”

Emperor Que shook his head. “There is no need to worry, General Zhao. I have secret protectors of my own.”

“Your Majesty, a young woman seeks an audience outside the tent!” came a report from without.

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