19.

“Xiao Buhuan, I keep feeling like the weather’s about to change?”

That day was a rare clear winter day, and the New Year was drawing closer. The imperial city was gradually being enveloped in that atmosphere.

Xiao Buhuan brought Yang Qinyu to the city wall. Despite the presence of many soldiers, he unabashedly draped his cloak over Yang Qinyu in front of everyone, gently embracing him from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder.

In the distance, they could see an endless expanse of inky darkness at the horizon. The world was still, the years peaceful—it was the future he had imagined.

“Time slips by unnoticed, yet I’ve come to know your heart.”

“You always say such obscure things to me, Xiao Buhuan. I prefer when you speak plainly,” Yang Qinyu turned around, tilting his head slightly to look into his eyes.

When Yang Qinyu was young, the Prime Minister always told him to take his studies seriously. But his mother would always interrupt, and so Yang Qinyu spent a relatively carefree childhood.

Later, after his mother passed away, his father began to hope that he would live a carefree life, but then he was sent to the palace to accompany the Emperor.

Fortunately, there was Xiao Buhuan, who could accommodate Yang Qinyu’s little whims to some extent.

“Qinyu, you…”

“Xiao Buhuan,” Yang Qinyu took his hand and pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling it gently, “I’ve grown up now.”

As evening approached that day, the long-absent sunset gradually descended from beyond the mountains. The remnants of fading golden light scattered across the clouds and fell upon his face. At that moment, Yang Qinyu seemed to understand the meaning in Xiao Buhuan’s gaze.

So he raised his hand and gently covered Xiao Buhuan’s eyes. While he couldn’t see, Yang Qinyu smiled happily.

Yang Qinyu said to him. “Xiao Buhuan, stop staring at me.”

 

20.

“Your Majesty, the Prince Regent has volunteered to quell the unrest at the border. I believe you should let him go.”

Yang Qinyu dipped his brush in ink, squinting at the plum blossom reaching through the window. He quickly put brush to paper, and a deep red bloomed from the tip.

The young Emperor looked at him with admiration and complexity in his eyes. After a long moment, he spoke hesitantly, “Brother Qinyu, Imperial Uncle is important to both you and me. How can I let him… go to such a…” such an uncertain place?

Yang Qinyu glanced at the ink-stained paper where his brush had lingered too long and sighed softly, setting the brush aside. “Your Majesty has grown up and knows how important the Prince Regent is to us both.”

Turning to draw the young Emperor to his side, he smoothed a stray lock of hair at his temple. “And because of this, he’s even more important to the country and its people. Your Majesty, personal feelings cannot interfere with state affairs. Do you understand?”

“But…”

“The situation at the border is critical. He can safeguard the empire for you.”

Yang Qinyu saw tears welling up in the young Emperor’s eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks as his fists clenched tighter at his sides.

To the Emperor, Xiao Buhuan wasn’t just an uncle, but a godlike figure.

Fortunately, the Emperor was a wise ruler who understood that the greater good of the world outweighed personal feelings.

Xiao Buhuan didn’t even stay in the capital to finish celebrating the New Year.

“Xiao Buhuan, you owe me a New Year’s celebration.”

On the day he left, it was finally Yang Qinyu’s turn to fasten the ties of his cloak.

After mounting his horse, Xiao Buhuan’s tall figure seemed even more imposing. With the light behind him, Yang Qinyu couldn’t clearly see his expression. In a moment, Xiao Buhuan snatched an umbrella from a nearby attendant, shielding Yang Qinyu as he leaned down.

Using the umbrella as cover, Xiao Buhuan tilted Yang Qinyu’s chin up with one hand and left a soft, memorable kiss on his lips.

Yang Qinyu still remembers Xiao Buhuan’s parting words, as tender as a whisper, blooming like a flower in his heart.

“I love you.”

“Xiao Buhuan, how can you be like this…”

“Wait for me to return.”

So, he would wait for his return. If one day Xiao Buhuan truly gave his life in service to the country, Yang Qinyu thought he’d have to shout all his curses from the city walls, letting the world see how this upright and honest Prince Regent had broken his promise.

 

21.

“He still hasn’t written to you?” The Empress Dowager sat with Yang Qinyu in a small pavilion as spring began, holding an embroidery needle. Her furrowed brow made it look less like she was holding a needle and more like she was puzzling over a difficult memorial.

Yang Qinyu sighed, propping his chin on his hand, then, in the next moment, covered his face with a book. “It’s been three months. No news has reached the capital from him. The flowers I’ve been waiting with are almost wilted.”

The Empress Dowager, unable to bear the torment of the embroidery needle any longer, tossed her work aside and dusted off her hands. “Prime Minister Yang told me he hoped I could introduce you to some young ladies.”

Yang Qinyu sucked in a sharp breath, hastily waving his hands. “There’s no need, no need. I appreciate Your Majesty’s kindness.”

For three whole months, his father, the Prime Minister, had used the Empress Dowager to find him no less than ten potential matches. When the Empress Dowager was in high spirits, she even planned to arrange a matchmaking banquet for him, but Yang Qinyu had fallen to his knees, his determined expression and tearful eyes putting a stop to it.

Even the young Emperor, who could now almost rule independently, had joked about when he would find a wife for his teacher.

A wife might be out of the question, but there was a ready-made Imperial Uncle here. He wondered if Xiao Buhuan would want that.

“Qinyu, forgive my prying, but what would you do if the Prince Regent died on the battlefield for the country?”

To be honest, Yang Qinyu had thought about this question many, many times.

For half a month after Xiao Buhuan left, he couldn’t sleep at all.

The battlefield was always unpredictable, and he was just a scholar, never as proficient in military strategy as Xiao Buhuan.

Yang Qinyu thought, how could he not want Xiao Buhuan to stay?

But Xiao Buhuan was the Prince Regent. He had his own responsibilities and principles.

Usually, Yang Qinyu could act capricious and willful in front of Xiao Buhuan, but when it truly mattered, he could also manage well on his own.

“Your Majesty jests. Though everyone knows the Prince Regent fights for the people, they don’t know Xiao Buhuan left behind a Yang Qinyu. But I have no regrets.” He stood up, saw goldfish poking their heads out of the pond, and crumbled some snacks from the table to toss to them.

The leisurely way the goldfish competed for food made it seem as if they knew someone would always feed them.

“Whether in the imperial court or out in the world, when he returns, I’ll follow him and be as free as a bird.”

 

22.

In May, the dozen or so letters Yang Qinyu had written all sank like stones in the sea, and he had an ominous feeling in his heart.

The recent continuous rain seemed to ignite his old illness.

“It’s been half a year, and we’ve received news of victories at the border. Why hasn’t he replied to me yet?”

Yang Qinyu complained to the young Emperor as he lay beside him.

He noticed the Emperor’s slight pause in writing. The Emperor’s eyes darted about nervously, and Yang Qinyu’s unease peaked at that moment.

“Your Majesty… are you hiding something from me?”

The Emperor remained silent, but Yang Qinyu could guess the unspoken news from his expression.

So, he smiled resignedly.

“Your Majesty, I’m not… so unable to accept it.”

The Emperor turned to look at Yang Qinyu again, his eyes slightly red, his lips trembling. After a long moment, he said in a tearful voice, “Brother Qinyu, Imperial Uncle… Imperial Uncle has gone missing in battle… his whereabouts are unknown… I and the Prime Minister were afraid of upsetting you…”

Upon hearing the news, Yang Qinyu became calm.

In the end, he even patted the young Emperor’s head to comfort him.

Two days later, Yang Qinyu returned to the Prime Minister’s residence. He met with his father, kowtowed to him, and then, with minimal provisions and luggage, set out for the border amidst his father’s silent tears and waving handkerchief.

Before leaving, Yang Qinyu stood on the city wall in the continuous rain. The damp, cool wind ruffled his hair, and in his hand, he clutched something like a small book.

Reality often differs from our expectations.

For instance, in the end, Yang Qinyu didn’t curse Xiao Buhuan, nor did he throw anything away.

 

23.

The fortune teller once said that Yang Qinyu’s middle years would be largely missing. Thinking about it now, those words seem truly prescient.

The scenery along the journey was beautiful.

Yang Qinyu traveled at a leisurely pace, stopping to admire the views and resting against trees when tired, his horse tethered nearby.

One day, startled by spirits in the forest, he tremblingly set out a blank ancestral tablet, paper money, and incense he had prepared. Crouching respectfully, he said, “If you desire anything here, please take it!”

A gust of cold wind blew, and a deep sigh came from the pitch-black darkness.

Yang Qinyu: “…” Why had he come here again? He froze, cold sweat beading on his back, not daring to move.

The thing in the darkness didn’t move either.

Realizing this, Yang Qinyu slowly stood up, brushed the dirt from his knees, turned, and ran!

Seconds later, he sensed something following him.

Yang Qinyu, not daring to look back, shouted, “Why are you following me?! My old, withered flesh isn’t tasty!!!”

“Who wants to eat you?! Is that Lord Yang Qinyu?!”

“Why do even ghosts know my name?!”

The thing behind him yelled, “Lord Yang, I’m the deputy commander who went on the expedition with the Prince Regent! I got my leg caught while searching for something here and have been lying here for ages! Please run a bit slower, I have to hop quite a distance!”

Yang Qinyu froze, instantly stopping and turning around. Sure enough, a man with a grimacing face was hopping towards him.

Silently stepping back a bit, Yang Qinyu wondered why he felt an even stronger urge to run.

After calming down, the two sat companionably by a fire.

“How did you know I was Yang Qinyu?”

The deputy commander chuckled, pulling out a stack of letters from his chest. “Ah, don’t misunderstand. The Prince entrusted these to me before the… ambush. He said they were from his wife at home—”

Yang Qinyu grabbed his collar, his eyes blazing.

“Where is Xiao Buhuan?!”

The deputy commander fell silent, blinking as he offered the letters to Yang Qinyu, who didn’t take them.

“We’ve already sent word to the capital. The Prince… he’s gone.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than his face received two slaps. He watched, holding his cheek, as Yang Qinyu dusted off his hands, stood up, and went to untie his horse.

“What are you doing, Lord Yang?” the deputy commander asked, puzzled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to the border! Dead or alive, I must see him. You’re not trying to stop me, are you?”

“Not at all,” the deputy commander calmly shook his head, still holding his cheek. Then he added, “But Lord Yang, you’re going in the wrong direction.”

Yang Qinyu: “…” He turned his horse around without a trace of embarrassment.

The deputy commander sighed inwardly, cursing silently. Who in their right mind sets traps in the forest! He had almost failed to complete the task the Prince Regent had given him!

 

24.

“Young Master, there’s a lantern festival in town today, styled after those in the Central Plains. Would you like to take a look?

When the innkeeper told Yang Qinyu this news, he had finally reached the border in September, having left the capital in May.

People say the greatest sorrow is a dead heart, but Yang Qinyu felt his heart was just seething with anger. Any worse, and he might start breathing fire.

Especially when he saw the deputy commander’s foolish grin behind him.

Not wanting to refuse the innkeeper’s kindness, he casually agreed.

That night, the fireworks seemed especially beautiful against the starry sky of the border region.

There was a story from the battlefield about a war god who single-handedly turned the tide of battle, then vanished into the world like a true immortal.

Yang Qinyu wandered around wearing a mask and local clothes.

Embarrassingly, while many people were in groups, he was alone, with no particular destination in mind.

“Excuse me, sir, wait a moment.”

As fireworks exploded overhead, that familiar voice called out. Turning around, he saw a masked man with white hair, bending to pick up a small sachet from the ground.

The man approached Yang Qinyu, stopping in front of him. He took Yang Qinyu’s hand and gently placed the sachet in his palm.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You big liar, you said I’d be the one waiting for you to return!”

“It was my mistake.”

“…Xiao Buhuan, I’ve missed you so much.”

• End –

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