At the end of the winter of the eighteenth year of Yongping, Yu Bao’er was officially entered into the imperial genealogy. Her mother gave her the name Yu.

In the spring of that same year, the seven-and-a-half-year-old Qi Yu ascended the throne and changed the reign title to Yongxing. Marquis Wu’an, Xie Zheng, was appointed Prince Regent to assist in governing the empire.

For their meritorious service in suppressing the rebellion, General Yunhui Fan Changyu, General Pingxi Tang Peiyi, and the others were all promoted another rank. General Yunhui Fan Changyu was elevated to Grand General Huaihua and additionally bestowed the title of First-Rank Lady Protector of the Nation. Tang Peiyi was granted the title of Earl Xuanguo, He Xiuyun was appointed Military Governor of Jiannan, and Zheng Wenchang was promoted to Supreme Fuchong Commandant.

The Li and Wei factions that had staged the palace coup on New Year’s Eve were also formally brought to justice.

However, Grand Tutor Li had been one of the empire’s greatest scholars, enjoying immense prestige with disciples spread throughout both the court and the provinces. After learning that he had died on the night of the coup, many scholars were filled with righteous indignation, convinced that the Li family must have suffered a grave injustice. They openly composed poems and essays satirizing Xie Zheng, claiming that supporting the young emperor was merely his excuse to become another Wei Yan. They lamented that the Li family, who had supposedly devoted themselves to the nation and its people, had met such a tragic end, and even cried that the future of Great Yin was hopeless.

When these criticisms reached Xie Zheng’s ears, he remained completely unmoved. He merely ordered the Ministry of Revenue to publicly announce, during the morning court session, the full inventory of the Li family’s confiscated assets, an inventory that had taken more than two months to complete after the estates of both the Li and Wei families were seized.

The supposedly incorruptible Li family alone had amassed over one million taels of silver. In addition, officials confiscated more than four thousand gold artifacts, over a thousand jade treasures, more than two thousand antiques and paintings, over ten thousand bolts of fine silk, more than a thousand shops and estates, and over a million mu of privately owned farmland—wealth that actually exceeded what had been seized from the Wei family.

The figures stunned the entire court.

Grand Tutor Li’s disciples no longer dared utter another word. During court, they blushed with shame, wishing the ground would open beneath them so they could disappear.

Some voices of doubt still lingered among the common people, but the silver had genuinely been deposited into the imperial treasury. After the campaigns to reclaim Jinzhou, recover the eleven prefectures of Liaodong, and suppress the Chongzhou Rebellion, the treasury had been nearly depleted. This enormous sum finally gave the court room to breathe again.

Upon ascending the throne, the new emperor proclaimed a general amnesty, reduced taxes for the common people, and, following the recommendation of Grand General Huaihua Fan Changyu, ordered a revision of the Great Yin Code. The new laws included provisions allowing both sons and daughters to inherit family property and permitting orphaned daughters to establish households independently, along with many other reforms.

During Wei Yan’s trial, another crime of historic proportions came to light.

The fall of Jinzhou had never been General Meng Shuyuan’s fault for failing to deliver supplies. Instead, the Sixteenth Prince had become trapped in Luo City, and the muddleheaded late emperor had ordered Meng Shuyuan to rescue him, while entrusting the vital grain transport to Prince Changxin of Chongzhou. Prince Changxin never dispatched his troops, watching helplessly as Jinzhou fell. Later, when the foreign tribes invaded southward, Prince Changxin finally intercepted them. Since the court dared not punish him at such a critical moment, it placed the entire blame for Jinzhou’s loss upon Meng Shuyuan to satisfy public outrage.

This truth was eighty percent complete, with twenty percent deliberately concealed.

Wei Yan was not implicated because, in the Jinzhou affair, he himself had also been someone the late emperor intended to sacrifice. If he had been dragged into the case, the reason for his sudden return to the capital would inevitably have led back to Consort Shu. For the sake of that innocent woman, who had merely been swept along by the tides of history, Wei Yan remained unwilling, even in death, to let her name bear any stain in the official records. Fan Changyu and Xie Zheng likewise chose not to leave any trace of her in this chapter of history. After all, the true culprits behind the Jinzhou disaster had always been the late emperor and Prince Changxin.

Nevertheless, the countless crimes Wei Yan had committed over the years to consolidate his power were undeniable. He was sentenced to execution after the autumn assizes.

After enduring eighteen years of wrongful disgrace, the old general was finally vindicated.

The young emperor, honoring his loyalty and mourning the injustice he had suffered, posthumously conferred upon him the title Duke Zhongguo and granted him the honor of being enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

People throughout the empire sighed with emotion and felt deep remorse for having cursed General Meng for more than a decade. It was said that on the day the proclamation was announced across the land, countless people openly wept for him, voluntarily burning incense and offering sacrifices in his memory.

Only then did the people also learn that Grand General Huaihua Fan Changyu was actually General Meng’s granddaughter.

Her story of taking up a butcher’s knife, joining the army, and rising step by step to become one of the empire’s greatest female generals in order to clear her grandfather’s name spread from the military camps into every corner of the country, becoming a legendary tale passed down among the people.

In teahouses and taverns throughout the land, no matter when one walked in, the storyteller could always be heard striking his wooden clapper with a sharp crack before raising his voice dramatically.

“Now then, let us speak of the young woman of the Fan family from Lin’an! Her parents met untimely deaths, her little sister was abducted, and her husband was conscripted into the army. Bitter! Tragic! Yet with nothing more than a butcher’s knife in hand, she swept away bandits, slew a marquis, and cut down enemy generals…”

The storyteller smacked the clapper again and again, his emotions running high. The audience below listened with rapt attention, their faces tense as though they had been transported to the battlefield themselves.

Before this wave of excitement had even died down, another major event shook the capital.

The Prince Regent, Xie Zheng—the only son of the Xie family, ennobled through military achievements and now the most powerful man in court—petitioned the young emperor for an imperial decree of marriage. He wished to marry Grand General Huaihua, Fan Changyu.

Had the Prince Regent chosen another woman who had previously been married, the people would certainly have had plenty to gossip about. But the woman he wished to marry was none other than Grand General Huaihua.

Instead of criticizing the match, the people unanimously praised it as a union made in heaven.

Even the noble young ladies of the capital wiped away tears with their handkerchiefs as they sighed that only if the woman marrying the Prince Regent was Grand General Huaihua could they truly accept it.

A hero deserved another hero.

Though, in truth, they were both beauties as well.

Of course, someone somewhere inevitably spread another story.

They claimed that when the Prince Regent had returned victorious after suppressing the rebellion and was being honored in a grand procession through the capital, countless silk handkerchiefs had been thrown toward him by admiring women.

Yet among those thousands of fluttering scarves, he had somehow caught Grand General Huaihua’s ribbon with perfect accuracy, calmly tucked it into his robe, and continued on his way without changing his expression.

Clearly, they said, requesting an imperial marriage decree had been part of his plan all along.

Yet everyone in court knew that Grand General Huaihua had once been married.

Back when Qi Sheng still sat upon the throne, she had openly admitted before the Golden Throne that she had only joined the army by chance while searching for her missing husband.

Veterans who had retired from Yan Prefecture, Ji Prefecture, and Chongzhou even swore the story was true. They insisted that when they had been trapped in First-Line Gorge, Grand General Huaihua had charged up the mountain together with the reinforcements from Ji Prefecture in search of her husband.

For a time, from the imperial court to the common streets, discussions about the marriage between Xie Zheng and Fan Changyu reached an unprecedented peak.

Everyone said that Grand General Huaihua had loved her late husband with unwavering devotion.

Compared to that man, the Prince Regent, who had come later, surely could never measure up.

Others argued that since men had always been allowed multiple wives and concubines, why shouldn’t a woman as extraordinary as Grand General Huaihua remarry after her humble husband had died?

To marry someone as exceptional as the Prince Regent was only natural.

There were naturally some men who sighed over Fan Changyu’s “early-deceased” “poor husband,” saying that if he had still been alive, he would now be enjoying endless wealth and glory.

Since he had died so young, it simply meant he lacked the fortune to enjoy such blessings.

Yet despite all these opinions, people somehow reached the same conclusion.

In Grand General Huaihua’s heart, that humble husband still occupied a place more important than the Prince Regent.

After all, they had been a couple who had endured hardship together.

If that husband were still alive, how could Grand General Huaihua possibly have agreed to marry the Prince Regent?

Xie Zheng had remained unmoved even when scholars throughout the empire composed poems mocking him for supposedly wronging the Li family.

But upon hearing these rumors circulating among the people, his face darkened so much it seemed water could drip from it.

After receiving a few subtle hints from Xie Five and Xie Seven, Xie Eleven finally displayed some much-needed tact.

He immediately began spreading the news throughout the capital that their prince was, in fact, Grand General Huaihua’s very own “humble husband.”

The moment that story spread, it caused an even greater uproar.

Before long, however, people discovered that the guards of the Xie residence had been visiting alleyways every day, handing silver to beggars and paying them to spread the tale.

Everyone’s expressions instantly became rather complicated.

In the end, the entire city arrived at the same conclusion.

The Prince Regent truly loved Grand General Huaihua beyond reason.

He was even willing to eagerly claim the title of her “poor, humble husband.”

It was also said that a talented scholar who longed to enter official service but lacked any connections suddenly came up with a brilliant idea.

He wrote an opera titled The Woman General, based on the love story between Grand General Huaihua and the Prince Regent, hoping to curry favor with the Prince Regent.

As soon as the play premiered in the capital’s opera houses, it became an enormous success.

The audience packed every performance, cheering thunderously.

On stage, the actress portraying the female general wore bold sword-like eyebrows, pheasant feathers upon her helmet, and command flags upon her back. Brandishing a long saber, she sang in a ringing voice:

“To save my husband, I left my home behind. Who could have foreseen that I would join the army and rise to become a great general…”

When Fan Changyu learned of it, she could neither laugh nor cry.

Later, she secretly rented a private room with Xie Zheng and went to watch the performance together.

Outside, the stage echoed with the thunder of drums and gongs, while the actors’ voices rang out loud and clear, carrying effortlessly through the theater.

As Fan Changyu listened to the lyrics, one memory after another slowly surfaced before her eyes.

Their first meeting in the snow… the curling smoke rising from the chimney of the Fan family home… how he had taught her to use the law to protect her family’s property… the annotations he had written for her in the Four Books… the wrist guards he had given her before leaving… and all the countless moments on the battlefield where they had faced life and death together…

Without realizing it, they had already traveled so very far from that little town of Lin’an.

A smile unconsciously curved her lips.

Turning to Xie Zheng, she teased, “Do you remember? Back in Qingping County, you said you wanted to marry a gentle, virtuous woman who could manage a household well.”

Outside, the play had reached its climax.

“Wearing a golden crown upon her brow, wielding a long blade that shakes the heavens…”

The drums grew increasingly urgent, and the actress playing the female general sang with a powerful, resonant voice that seemed capable of piercing the sky itself. She exchanged dazzling choreographed blows with several martial actresses, the sweeping motions of her long saber beautiful to behold, even if they were not practical battlefield techniques.

Since every performance had been completely sold out, this showing had been scheduled for the evening.

The private room they had rented was on the first floor. The theater itself was built in a circular shape, with every private room facing the central stage. A continuous ring of lanterns hung beneath the windows, and once they were all lit, they glowed brilliantly, making the entire theater resemble a forest of blazing lights.

As Fan Changyu turned back toward him, half of her smiling face was illuminated by the warm lantern light. Her eyes shone with gentle warmth and brightness.

Beyond the wide-open window, the actress portraying her stood upon the stage, command flags adorning her back as she wielded a long saber.

For that single moment, time itself seemed to stand still.

The scene struck Xie Zheng’s heart so deeply that he could do nothing but gaze at her.

Only after a long while did he finally answer.

“…I do.”

“But after meeting you, I realized that the only person I wanted to marry was Fan Changyu.”

Perhaps it was the glow of the lanterns outside.

Or perhaps it was something else.

A flush suddenly spread across Fan Changyu’s cheeks.

Only after the play ended did the audience gradually begin boarding their carriages and departing.

To avoid being recognized and attracting unnecessary attention, Fan Changyu and Xie Zheng waited until nearly everyone had left before quietly exiting the theater.

The moon had already risen high above the willow branches.

Neither of them rode horses nor took a sedan chair.

Instead, they simply walked side by side through the quiet streets.

The moonlight stretched their shadows into long silhouettes upon the ground.

Occasionally, the two shadows overlapped, merging into one.

Then Xie Zheng reached out and clasped Fan Changyu’s hand.

This time, he never let go.

“There is a temple in the city,” he said. “I’ve heard it’s very efficacious, and the incense offerings there are always plentiful. Would you like to go and have a look?”

It was only the beginning of the Xu hour. Returning home now would have been rather early, so Fan Changyu nodded in agreement.

When they arrived before the mountain temple, however, both of them fell silent.

The temple gates were tightly shut.

Beside them hung a notice that read:

No worshippers admitted after the You hour.

Fan Changyu turned toward Xie Zheng.

“The temple is already closed today. Why don’t we come back another time?”

Instead of answering, Xie Zheng lifted his gaze toward the temple wall, which stood more than ten feet high.

A short while later…

Two agile figures leapt over the wall and landed inside the temple grounds like panthers.

Even after both feet were firmly planted upon the blue stone pavement inside, Fan Changyu still looked rather bewildered.

After following Xie Zheng for a short distance, she finally remembered what had been bothering her.

Looking at him, she asked, “We climbed over the wall in the middle of the night… just to worship the Buddha?”

Xie Zheng paused, clearly caught off guard by the question.

For the first time, he deliberately avoided her eyes.

Turning his face away, he gave a light cough before saying, “The most famous thing about this temple is its Bodhi tree. They say all the nobles and high officials in the capital come here to make wishes and hang prayer plaques.”

His well-defined jaw was slightly tense beneath the cool moonlight, as though maintaining that expression could somehow conceal the wildly beating heart in his chest.

His palms had even begun to sweat ever so slightly, though he himself could not explain why.

Although it was called a Bodhi tree, nearly everyone in the capital knew it by another name—

The Tree of Marriage.

Almost everyone who came to make wishes there was a young man or woman praying for love.

Fan Changyu, however, seemed completely unaware.

After a brief look of surprise, she smiled brightly.

“That sounds wonderful. With our current positions, if we came openly to hang a wish plaque, who knows what rumors people would start? Better to sneak over tonight and quietly hang one instead.”

Perhaps her smile beneath the moonlight was simply too dazzling.

Xie Zheng turned to look at her in silence for several breaths before finally withdrawing his deep, unreadable gaze and leading her onward.